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THE 

NATIONAL 
QUARTERLY REVIEW. 

EDITED BT / 



DECEMBER, 1866, and MARCH, 186 7 
VOL. XIV. 



<ruirlirun eit bene faoore reipabllce, eilam bene dfcere hand alMmrdom Mi'' 

NEW YORK: 
EDWABD I. SEARS, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. 

1867. 



"Ti-^t,: 



Bntered according to Act of Congress, in the jetr IM, hj 

EDWARD I. SBABS» 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Bonthem 

District of New York. 






THE 



NATIONAL 



QUARTERLY REVIEW. 



EDITED BT 



EIJ'WAKIJ I. SKARg, A. M., X.L. X> 



Vol. X¥1. No. XXVII. December, 1866. 



' Pulchrum est bcnn fj'cerf loifmhlica', otiam bone diccre hmnl .ibsurtlum est" 



NEW YORK: 
KDWARD I. SEARS, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. 

61 I|ROABWAY. 



GKNjEKAL agknts. 



' Nkw Yoek : A^rERICAN NEWS CO., 121 Nas^at: Strfet. Bo^^ton : A. WTLLTAMS & CO,. 
I liJO Was«iiington Stkekt. Piiii.MvFi 1 iiia: JAMES K. SIMON, South 

Slxth Strket. London: TJaiVMvF? & ( O., fK) Paternoster 
Row. Paris : YICTOK ALEXl, 19 Rue du Mail. 



18r;f5. 



'irf.rdiii- *o * ct of Ct rtTena, in thn yiuir IKCC. by Edward I. Sears, in thi- Clerk's Office oi tlit 



STEINWAY & SONS' 

GRAND, SQUARE, AND UPRIGHT 

Have takcu Thirty Fine First PRBMirMS at the principal fairs held in this coantry within 
the last ten years, and also were awarded a First Prize Modal at the Great International Exhi- 
bition in London, 1862, in competition with 289 pianos I'rom All parts of the world 

That the great BU|>eriority of these instruments is new universally conceded is proven by the 
f<u^ that Messrs. Stoin ways' »* scales, improvements, and peculiarities of construction " have 
been copied by the great majority of the manufacturers of hoih hemispheres (ab clopklt ap 
OOULD BE DOSK WTTHOUT i.vrKiXQiNG PATEYT-KiGnTs) . and that their Mistrumcnts are used by tbe 
most eminent pianists of Europe and America, who prefer them for their own public and private 
use whenever accessible. 

Every piano is constructed with their 

PATENT AOBAFFE ABBAKOEHEKT, 
Applied dlreetljr to the Fall Iron Frame. 

STEIKWAY & SONS direct special attention to their newly invented ** Upricfllt " 
pianos with their ^^ Patent Resonator" aud doi'sls iron frame, patented June 5, 
1868. This invention consists iu providing the instrumei.t (in addition to the iron frame \\\ 
FRONT of the soundboard) with an iron brace frame in the kkar of it, both frames being cast 
|n ONB PIECE, ther(>by imparting a solidity of consiruciionnd capacity o fstandhig in tuuc 
never before attaineJ in that class of instrument. 

The soundboard is supported between the two frames by an apparatus regulating its tension, 
so that the greatest possible degree of sound-producing capacity is obtained and regulated to the 
nicest desirable.point. 

The great volume and exquisite quality of tone, as well as clinity and promptness of action. 
of these new Upright Pianos have elicited 'the unqualifl.nl admiration of the musical prof.ssion 
aud all who have heard them. 

STEINWAY & SONS confidently offer these beautiful instruments to the public and invite 
every lover of mnsic to cill and examine them. 

Letter frcm the celebrated European Pianist, 

ALEXANDER DREYSCHOCK. 

Court Pianist to the Emperor of Russia. 

St. PKreBSBURQ, September 29, 1865 
Messrs. Stci.tway & Soxs — I cuinot refrain from expressing to you my undisguised admira- 
tion of your in ciwry reipert ma/cfcto» Grand Pianos (which I used at' my last concert in Brun*!- 
wiek) , and I desire nothing in the world so much as to be able to perform upon one of these 
masterpieces here. Send mo, therefore, (care of Jobann David Hoerle & Co. in St. Petersburg) , 
one of your Concert Grand Pianos — of course at most moderate artist's price — and Inform me, 
without delay, in which manner I can best remit the purchase money to you. 

Respcctfiilly yours, 

ALEXANDER DREYSCHOCK. 

Letter from Willie Pape. 

Court Pianist to the Royal Family of England. 

LosDON, England , February 4, 186fi 
Mkssrs. STEijrwAT & Sons — ^I am much pleased to see the rapid advances you are making 
and the numerous certificates you have so deservedly obtained. Should my humble opinion be 
of any weight, you may add that I give my fonr hnndrt^th piano-forte recital at Cheltenham 
on the 10th of this month, since my arrival here ; that during my four annual visits to Paris, I 
h-ive used the Grand Pianos <^f all th*^ first r.urov>ean mnnufacturers, but have found no In- 
strument eqnal to the one I porchsacd of you. In fact. I consider one or 
your finest Square I'ianoa equal to a »y ouo of tiio Grand Pi'inos mitiufactured hero. 

Truly yours, 

Wn.LIE B. PAPE, 
Pianist to H. R. H, tho Princess of Wales. 

STEINWAY k SONS' HANOS are the only Ameri(»n instruments exported to Europe in 
large numbers and actually used by the great pianists in European concerurooms. 

First Floor of Steinway Hall, 

71 and 73 JSast Foiirtecnlli afreet, 

Between Fourth avenue and Irving place, New Y> k. 



CONTENTS OP NO. XYVIL 



L PhTSIOLOOT AND THB LSflflOKS rr TSACHBfl 1 

1. ElemerUt of PhyMogy. By J. Mollbr, M. D., Profeeoor of 
Anatomy and Physiology in tlie Univenity of Berlin. 
Translated from the Qerman, with Ifotes, iy Wii<UAH 
Balt,M.D. New edition. 

gamquesdeiAnimaux. Par M. H. Milnb Edwabds, M. D., 
Archives g^n^rales de Medicine. 
8. Beehereku fMcroteopiquei wr la Structure Meme dei TisiUi 
arganiquei dsi Animaux, Par M. H. M. Bdwabds, M. D. 

4. Le^oTiM tFjinatomie eomparU, Par M. Cxjvisr. 

6. Butary of AnimaU. By Abistotlb. Bohn's edition. 

6. De Vorgankatian dee AmmauXf ou Prmeipee de rAnaiomi$ 

eompaHe, Par M. Db Blajsktoiul 

7. iln^/6mM»toivIVMtiMO»irtMna7iPAyA0^^,on(A0Pat£t^ 

the Prieie itSrnerUaire de Phyeiologie. Par F. Ma0BKDIB, 
Membre de rinstitnte de France, &c., &c. New edition. 
Translated, enlaised, and illustrated with diagrams. By 
John Rbtk&b, M. D. 

II. Cuba, rra Bbsoubgbs AND DxsTiKT 9S 

1. Bietairephyiique, pMique, a natureOe deFffide Ouba. Par 

M. Bamon db la Sa0&a. 
% Aj^rUeepMralametoriadelaieladeCfuba. Por D. J. IfABlA 

DB LA ToUBB. 

8. EeeaipoUiique mrVtU de Ouba. Par Albxandbb db Httk- 

BOLDT. Avec un Carte et Supplement, ftc. 
L To'flvba and Back. A Faeatian Voyage, ByBiOHABDHBBBT 
Daha, Jr. 

5. Zettere written in the Interior of Ottba between the Mauntaini 

ofAreana, to the Bast, and ofOueeo to the Weet, de. By 
the Bev. AxuBL Abbot, D. D. 

HL BOBBBT BOTLB^ HI8 IkVLUBNOB ON SCZBNCB AND LmBBAI* 

Idhab • W 

1. The Worki of the Banorable BobeH Boyle. In six Tols., 4to. 

To which is prefixed The Life of the Author. New 
Edition. 

2. BMary of the Boyal Society. By TA>B[Afl Bibch, M. A., F. 

B S 
Z. JPhin0f^'Sorm4m on the Death of BonorableBob&rt Boyle. By 

GiLLBBT BxTBNBT, Bishop of SsUsbuiy. 
4, mttoiredelaOhimie. Par M. Fbbd. Hobfbb. 



11. OONTBNTS. 



IV. Food aivd its Prbpakatiok 84 

1. Ihod and iU AdtiUertUions, eompoiing the Reports of the Ana- 
Iptk Sanitary Commisgion of the "Lancet '^ in the years 1851 
to 1854, inaunoe. By Arthur Hill Ha88al, M. D., 
Chief AnalyBt of the CominiBsion. 

3. Phynologie du Gout ; ou MSditatione de Gastronomie Tyrone- 

eendanU; Ouvrage Ohedrigue, Eiatrique et d Vordre du 
4our, Par M. BrQiLAT fcUTARizf, Membra de plusiears 
Society Savantee. 
8. Physiological Chemistry. By Professor G. G. Lshmanit. 

4. Des FfMficaJtions des Substances aUmentaires et des Jlioyens 

Chinuques de ks reconauMre. Par Julbs Garniee St Ch. 

v. HUNOART, HBR LlTBRATURB AJSD HBR PrOSPBCTB 108 

' 1. Gesehiehte der Magyaren (History of the Magyars). Von 

JOHAITK GRAVn MAILTH. 6 TOlf. 

8. Sandbuch der Ungar-Poetie (Handbook of Hangarlaii Poetry). 
Fbntbbzbt Toldt. % vols. 

5. IHssertatio de origins ffipMrf^^ruffi (Dissertation on the Origin 

of the Hungarians). FmiBR. 
4. Poetry of the Magyars, p/reoeded by a Commentary on the 
Language and lAieraiure of Hungary and Transylvania. 
By John Bowbino. 

6. Bssai Mstorigue sur Forigine desHon^rois, Par AuouBniDa 

Oerakdo. 
6. A'Magyar Literatnra esm&rete (Knowledge of the Magyar 

Liteiatnie). Irta Papat Saicubl. 
'7. AnaiyUcm IndituUones I^T^ua Huf^imuB, 

VL— Thb AoquDnnoir of EKowLEDas Impbdbd bt our Lbois- 

LAT0R8 184 

1. BibUotheea Americana : Catalogue of American PubHoations, 

indttding R^rints and Original Works from 1830 to 1852, 
tDith Si^pplemenl to 1855. Addenda to Maidi, 1868. 

2. Ma Bibliotheoue Frangaise. Par H. Basbakgb. 
B. La NoueeUeBibliothiquetFun Ebmme de Gout. 

4. IhuitS des plus bsUesmblioM^gmdeFBwrope. 

• 

Vn. Indbcbnt Pubucationb 150 

1. Laus Veneris and ot her Poems and BaUads. By Alobrnozt 
Charlbs Swibburiob. 

Vni. Educatiob in Gongrbss w. 159 

I, J^^eeehesifhO^fi^esscmda^^rJheuments^ 

IX. NoncBS AND Crzticibmb 169 

. Fiction ,.; 109 

BeUes-letties 170 

•. Science 190 

InsBiaRoe.... • ••*••••••• 200 



THE 

NATIONAL QUARTEELY REVIEW 

Xo. xxvir. 



DECEMBER, 1866. 



Art. I. — 1. Elements of Physiology, By J. Muller, M.D., Pro- 
fessor of Auatomy and Physiology in the University of Ber- 
lin. Translated from the German, with Notes, by William 
Balt, M.D. New edition. London: 1865. 

2. Memoire aur la Structure il&fnentaire des principaux Tissus 

organiques des Animaux. Par M. H. Milnb Edwards, M.D., 
Archives g^n^ rales de MMecine. Paris. 

3. Mecherches microscopiques sur la Structure interne des Tissus 

organiques des Animaux. Par M. H. M. Edwards, M.D, 
Paris. 

1, Lepons cP Anatomic comparie, ParM. Cuvibr. Paris. 

5. History of Animals. By Aristotle. Bohn's edition. London. 

6. De Porganization des Animaux, ou Principes de V Anatomic corn- 

paree. Par M. De Blainville. Paris. 

1. An Elementary Treatise on Human Physiology, on the Basis of 
the Precis ilementaire de Physiologic. Par F. Maoendie. 
Membre de riustitute de Prance, &c., &c. New editioii. 
Translated, enlarged, and illustrated with diagrams. By 
John Reverb, M.D. New York. 

Men in general pay so little attention to their own 
structure and organism that it is not strange they neglect 
those of the lower animals. It is not our intention, how- 
ever, to obtrude on our readers facts which may be found in 
any elementary treatise on human physiology, further than 
to make some observations, in passing, on the benefits we' 
should derive from, and the evils we should guard against by 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVII. 1 



2 PHTSIOLOOY AND THE LEi60N8 IV TEACHES. [December, 

devoting even a small portion of our study to ourselves. It 
is all the more remarkable that this is not done from the 
fact that no wonders are greater, no phenomena more in- 
teresting, than those of the human body ; even the science of 
the heavens as elucidated by Copernicus, Kepler, Newton, 
and Galileo^ is not better calculated to inspire us with 
admiration of the Divine wisdom. 

Diecarding all selfish motives and regarding the subject 
solely in a scientific point of view, what other study reveals 
BO many marvels, or affords such convincing proofs of omnis- 
cient design and benificence ? But it also appeals to our 
self-love; it teaches us to preserve our health and puts us 
on our guard against the most dangerous of imposters. The 
principal reason why quackeiy flourishes as it does in this 
country is, that we pay so little attention to physiology ; 
for Justin proportion as the latter is studied anywhere is the 
former shunned as worse than any of the innumerable mala- 
dies which it pretends to cure. 

There is but little hope of a better slate of things, how- 
ever, as long as physiology is neglected as it is in our 
schools ; it is by no means sufficient that it be taught to 
some extent at our leading colleges and high schools. It 
should form a prominent study at all schools worthy of the 
name. Instead of this being remembered, however, there 
are but few teachers who know anything about it ; and this 
is much more to be deplored than the most intelligent might 
suppose at first view, for it is a source of incalculable evil. 
Even those who are honestly proud of the progress of their 
pupils often err grievously, while they have no other inten- 
tion than to do good. If they only made . themselves 
acquainted with the delicate structure of the brain and its 
extreme susceptibility to injury, they would understand that 
in causing a child to learn as much as possible, they often do 
mischief rather than good. If the brain be too much excited 
in youth, it will be sure to be permanently injured in one 
way or other, if, indeed, it does not cause premature 
death. The experience of the world shows that the mind of 
the child whose faculties are thus precociously taxed, either 
becomes exhausted in a short time, and reduced to medi- 
ocrity, or the brain is attacked with inflammation or dropsy, 
which either destroys life or produces insanity. 

Thousands of parents are brought in sorrow to the grave by 
this means, though the real cause of it occurs only to a few of 
them ; were it otherwise, we should regard the brain of the 



1866.] PHTBIOLOGT AND THE LESSONS IT TEACHES. 3 

ftdtilt as capable of enduring more than that of the child, al- 
though no one is so strong and mature but he will suffer from 
the overtaxinuof his intellectual powers. Nor will any motive, 
howevergoocl,ju8tiryit. "Ifby gaining knowledge we destroy 
health," says Locke, ** we labor for a thing that will be use- 
less tn our hands ; and if, by harrassing our bodies (though 
with a design to render ourselves more useful) we deprive 
ourselves of the abilities and opportunities of doing that good we 
might have done with a meaner talent, which God thought 
sufficient for us by having denied us the strength to improve 
it to that pitch which men of stronger constitutions can 
attain to*, we rob God of so much service and our neighbor of 
all that help which in a state of health, with moderate 
knowledge, we might have been able to perform. He that 
sinks his vessel by ove7ioading ity though it be with gold and silver^ 
and precious stones^ will give its owner but an ill account of 
his voyage." Who that reasons for a moment will deny the 
truth of this? and can we expect weak children to bear with- 
out injury what renders strong men useless to themselves 
and others ? 

Fathers and mothers, as well as teachers, would prefer 
physiological knowledge to any other kind, if they could 
only realize its value ; it would save the former much more 
in doctors' bills than would requite them for the trouble of 
learning it, and no bills could contribute more to the intel- 
lectual and physical well-being of their children. The 
mother who understands the importance ot a free action of 
the chest to a proper performance of the functions of the heart 
and lungs will not be disposed to bind down the ribs of her 
daughters as if they were the hoops of an overloaded cask, 
which might burst if it were not properly taken care of; in 
other words, if she knew that such a course, if persevered in, 
would sooner or later render them consumptive, she would 
set fashion at defiance rather than encourage the evil. 

But without interfering with the dictates of fashion in 
this respect, which we fear would be hopeless, there is still 
sufficient to render physiology a valuable study. The adage 
** Prevention is better than cure" is justly regarded by all 
nations as a truism ; then, let us remember that prevention 
represents physiology and cure the healing art. Hence, if 
the adage is true, it follows that, good as the healing art is — 
and none value it more highly than we — physiology is 
better. 

At first view many would refuse to concur in this ; but 



4 PHYSIOLOGY AND THE LESSONS IT TEACH £8. [December, 

the most thoughtful and intelligent would do so on reflection* 
They would remember that the doctors themselves are good^ 
bad, or indifferent in proportion as they have combined the 
study of physiology with that of physic ; on a little further 
rpflection they would admit that the best doctors are those 
who give their patients least drugs ; that is, those who rely 
most on the universal medicines of nature — medicines which 
require neither druggist nor chemist to prepare them. 
Comparing the present with the past, it would occur to them 
that the Greeks and Romans spent centuries of their palmiest 
days without any other physicians than those who took charge 
of their baths and of their gymnasia ; and that it was only 
when they became degenerated that the apothecary*s shop 
and the patent specific were numbered among their institu- 
tions and commodities. When they finally had doctors, the 
best of them, including Hypocrates and Celsiua, held that the 
best medicines were water, pure air, and exercise. And is 
not the same true at the present day ? 

Before we condemn the ancients as ignorant and bar- 
barous because they had as much confidence in the efficacy 
of the bath as we have in the strongest drug, let us see 
whether there is anything in our nature or composition 
which bears them out in their views. On examination we 
shall find that there is a good deal. To prove this it would 
be almost sufficient to remark that water composes more 
than two-thirds of the animal body, more than three-fourths 
of the whole mass of our blood, more than seven-eighths 
of that of the brain, and more than nine-tenths of the various 
colorless fluids and secretions.^ 

From these undeniable facts it is easy to understand that 
if we were deprived of even one- third of the water of which 
we are composed we could not exist for a moment. Still 
less could we exist without air ; and there are none so igno- 
rant but they have some idt^a of the importance of exercise 
in a hygienic point of view. Is it, then, any serious imputa- 
tion on the intL*Iligence or civilization of the ancients that 
they relied so much on water and air, and so little on doctors 
and apothecaries? Nay, must we not admit the contrary? 
Do not the facts show that if they had no faith in drugs, 
whether, animal, vegetable, or mineral, they had a knowledge 
of their own nature and the laws by which it is governed 
which we cannot equal at the present day, however much 

♦ Mann's Physiology, p. 847. 



1866.] PHTSIOLOGT AND THE LC8S0NS IT TEACHES. 5 

we may boast of the .progress we have made ? For both 
Hippocrates and Celsius bear testimony that the leading 
principles by which they were guided in eschewing drugs 
and confining themselves to the universal medicines were 
no idle notions, but truths demonstrated by science and 
confirmed by experience. Accordingly, those illustrious 
physicians have recommended the same principles to their 
disciples. Hippocrates has declared, in his great work, which 
is still received as an authority by the most learned of the 
feculty in all parts of the world, that in cases of pneumonia 
'Hhe bath soothes the pain in the side, chest, and back, con- 
cocts the sputa, promotes expectoration, improves the respi- 
ration, and allays lassitude." Celsius recommends the use of 
the bath as the best cure for various diseases, including 
fevers, hysterical and hypocondriacal afrc3ctions, weak vision, 
indigestion, &c., prescribing the cold, tepid, or warm bath 
according to the nature of the malady and the character of 
the symptoms. Galen, an authority scarcely less illustrious, 
has left on record the following confirmation of the en- 
lightened intelligence of those who, unlike most people of 
the present day, had more faith in nature than in quack 
doctors : " Cold water," he says, ** quickens the actions of 
the bowels, provided there be no constrictions from spasms, 
when warm water is to be used. Cold drink stops hem- 
orrhages and sometimes brings back heat. Cold drinks 
are good in continued and ardent fevers. They discharge 
the pec3ant and redundant humors by stool, or by vomiting, 
or by sweat."* 

If we inquire which of the celebrated physicians of 
modern times were best acquainted with the jiuman frame 
and the chief functions of its organs, we shall find that it 
was they who had most respect for the ancient system. Thus, 
Boerhaave excelled as a physician, chemist, and physiologist. 
His whole life was devoted to the study of nature and of her 
• laws; and the emphatic testimony he has left on record is 
that •* No remedy can more effectually secure health and 
prevent disease than pure water." 

The Arabian physicians of greatest celebrity depended 
more on the bath than on all other remedies ; and when 
Mahomet enjoined on his followers daily ablutions, he was 
influenced much more by their known effects on the body 

*** Thirst is nature's indication/' says Mann, **tliat a fresh supply of 
water is needed in the blood/' — lb. 



& PHYSIOLOGY AND THs LESSONS IT TZACOEs. [December^ 

in preseryiDg it from disease than by any faith he had in their 
influence on the futufe conditiorv of the soul, a remark 
i^hich, but slightly modified, is equally applicable to the 
Christian adage, *' Cleanliness is next to godliness.'' 

If we regard water as merely a means of cleansing the 
body, even then we must admit that it is a preventive of 
disease, or otherwise be very inconsistent with ourselves^ 
since it is universally admitted by the medical faculty^ as well 
as by all other enlightened men, that the most effectual means 
' of protecting any city or town from epidemics is to keep it 
clean. If it is true that cleanliness protects five thousand 
men from disease, it follows that it would also protect one 
man under similar circumstances. 

But how has it been discovered that cleanliness is pro- 
ductive of so salutary an efiect on the public health? Is 
it by the study of drugs and their operation on the human 
system ? Is it not by the study of the human system itself 
and of its organs ? Thus, for example, before any physician 
in Europe or America had ever seen a case of Asiatic cholera, 
or had any idea of the manner in which it ought to be 
treated, it was well known that th^ surest protection against 
the spread of its ravages was cleanliness, and that nothing 
had a stronger attraction for it than filth. And this knowl- 
edge was physiological, not medical ; it was acquired from 
those who studied the functions of life more than the drugs 
which are supposed to produce such magic effects upon those 
functions. 1'hat it has greatly benefited the world in this 
respect as well as in others cannot be denied. It has saved 
thbusands and afforded an additional proof of the truth of 
the adage that "Prevention is better than cure;" for when 
the disease has once appeared, the individuals attacked by it 
have seldom been saved by medical skill. 

A slight knowledge of physiology would put the thou 
sands who die annually from consumption and kindred dis- 
eases on their guard against the predisposing causes of those 
maladies. It is incredible how many come to a premature 
death, according to the best authorities, merely because they 
pay little or no attention to the sudden changes of tempera- 
ture which take place to a greater or less extent at all sea- 
sons, but especially in spring and autumn. They forget that 
a temperature which is wholesome at one time may prove 
fatally uiiwhulesome at another ; and that, accordingly, they 
should adapt their clothing to the change. The common 
notion is, that we become nsed to heat or cold, as the case 



1866.] PHYSIOLOGY AND THE LESSOXS IT TEACHES. ^ 

may be, and that therefore it does not injure us. We have 
often heard respectable physicians make this remark ; but it 
18 not the less erroneous on this account. If we are more or 
is less influenced by heat or cold at one time than another, it 
not without a more rational cause than that we have become 
used to it. Nature does not perform her work so capriciously 
a& this would imply. Physiology teaches us that if we feel 
the cold or the heat at one time more than another it is be- 
cause in the interval we have undergone a physical change ; 
we learn from it that during summer the circulating fluids of 
the body are generally diffused throughout its capillary sys- 
tem, a large proportion of them remaining in the vessels at the 
$urffice; whereas in winter the external cold contracts the 
capillary vessels of the surface, and consequently causes the 
blood to accumulate in the inlemal organs ; so that in the 
warm season the circulation is essentially external, and in 
the winter it is essentially internal for the opposite reason. 
And it is evident that these phenomena are by no means 
accidental ; the great mass of the blood is sheltered from the 
cold of winter by being collected in the interior of the body; 
and it is obvious that whatever cold it is subjected to in this 
state, it cannot lose its heat as rapidly as it would did it pre- 
sent 80 large a mrface^ or approach the surface so much as it 
does in summer. When the blood has not time to recede 
gradually — that is, when there is a sudden change from heat 
to cold — it rapidly loses its heat, and in this altered state there 
is a sudden revulsion of it to the internal organs. The latter 
being unprepared fur the shock, diseases become prevalent at 
once, including inflammation, catarrhs, iievers, &c. 

These are no mere hypotheses, but facts established by 
experiments. It has also been abundantly demonstrated that 
children and persons ot adult age are very difierently aflected 
by heat and cold, especially by the latter. Thousands of chil- 
dren die annually because mothers, or their advisers, have 
not yet learned the fact that an infant is killed by a degree of 
cold which is only sufficient to invigorate an adult. As ex- 
periments endangering life cannot be tried on human sub- 
jects, except in the case of criminals, the lower animals have 
to be operated upon for that purpose, the law of which 
we are speaking being as applicable to the latter as it is to the 
former. Most people are aware that as long as a new-born 
animal is in contact witii its mother, its temperature is nearly, 
if not quite, the same as hers ; but no sooner is it exposed 
even to a summer atmosphere than its temperature falls 



8 PHTsioLOOY AND THB LESSONS IT TEACHBS. [December, 

rapidly, until it sinks even below that of the surrounding at« 
mosphere. 

Some experiments made by Professor Smith, of London 
University, afford interesting illustrations of this fact. A 
young bird, whose temperature was 97® P., was tiiken from its 
nest and exposed to the air at a temperature of 63®, under 
the direction of the professor. In one hour its temperature had 
fallen to 67*^, so that in that brief space it sank thirty degrees. 
Adult birds of the same species were next tried ; and in order 
to see whether they could be made to part with their heat so 
rapidly as their young, they were stripped of their feathers. 
They were then exposed to an atmosphere of the same tem- 
perature in which the young birds lost so much ; but after 
an hour's exposure it was found that they had not lost half a 
degree, although thirty-six degrees higher than the atmosphere 
around them. Of fifty experiments made by the same physi- 
ologist on birds, young and old, of different species, the results 
were pretty much the same. He next proceeded to ascertain 
the relative effects of temperature on young and adult birds at 
different seasons, his object being to test the truth of the al- 
leged fact that the adult of all animals, including man, 
differs from himself in different seasons as much as he does in 
all seasons from the young. 

In the month of July he placed four adult birds in air 
whose temperature was reduced to zero. In one hour they 
had lost upwards of six degrees, and at the end of three 
hours they had lost eleven degrees. The Professor found 
that, according as the weather became cooler, the birds were 
less affected by being exposed to cold. Thus, towards the 
close of August, the above experiment was repeated on six 
birds of the same speeies, but with very different results ; 
during the first hour they lost only four degrees, instead of 
six, and they had only lost two degrees more at the end of 
the fourth hour. The results obtained in winter were still 
more remarkable. In February, four adult birds were 
placed in air at the temperature of 32® ; at the end of an hour 
the mean loss of their heat was less than one degree : two of 
them experienced no diminution of temperature whatever, 
although they -belonged to the same species, and had been 
fed OB the same tbod, and brought up in the same climate 
as the others that had suffered such a great and rapid dimi- 
nution of heat. 

Because the effects of the cold bath and other cold appli- 
cations on the human body have been found, as we have 



1866.] PHYSIOLOGY AND THE LESSONS IT TEACHES. 9 

seen, to be decidedly beneficial, many carry their use to 
excess, and kill, instead of curing, themselves and others. It 
is forgotten that in this as well as other cases what is whole- 
some and good in moderation becomes positively deleterious 
in excess. Those acquainted with physiology understand 
this, and are, therefore, in no danger ; they understand, also, 
how it is that intelligent " cold-water doctors," as the hydro- 
pathists are called, do much good, while those of a different 
character do immense evil. The latter undoubtedly kill more 
than they cure. In order to comprehend this it will be neces- 
sary to remember certain sensations and other effects produced 
by cold under certain circumstances. We will therefore 
mention some facts which are not without interest in them- 
selves, altogether independently of their physiological value. 

While it is perfectly true, as we have said, that the ap- 
plication of cold cures many diseases, it is equally true that 
it produces many diseases. Because it has been recommended 
in certain cases by the most illustrious physicians, and because 
nearly all are conscious of -ha^virig profited more or less by it, in 
most countries ot the temperate zone it has become a^ popular 
opinion that cold winters are the most healthy, and that, 
upon the other hand, winters without frost are peculiarly un- 
healthy. In the British islands, especially, this belief is so 
deep-roofed in the public mind that several physiologists and 
physicians have taken the pains to investigate the whole 
subject fully. No one has done so more intelligently 
or more faithfully than Dr. Fothergill; and he has also 
tested the truth, or rather the error, of the kindred notion 
that a moist winter is so deleterious. It is proper to add, 
however, that the question is now regarded by the physiolo- 
gists of Europe as settled. No work on the subject has been 
written for a long time, but those to which we allude are 
quoted as standard authorities. " As far as the bills of mor- 
tality may be depended on," says Dr. Fothergill, " it is de- 
monstrated that an excess of wet with moderate warmth, is 
not so injurious to our constitutions as a severe cold season."* 
Elsewhere the same eminent physiologist remarks that ^' no 
weather is in common so little productive of acute and fatal 
diseases as the warm and moist ; nor any so dangerous in these 
respects as the opposite" 

Dr. Fothergill is an excellent authority ; but we are not 
obliged to rely either on his intelligence or veracity in this 

* ObsenratioziA on Weather and Diseases, Noyember, 1761. IJondon. 



10 PHTsiOLOOY AND THE LBssoKs IT TEACHES. [December, 

case ; his views are corroborated by several other physiolo- 

frists and physicians of distinction. Dr. Heberden has care- 
ully noted the health of the city of London for two successive 
winters (1794-95), one of which was the coldest and the 
other the warmest of which any regular record had been kept; 
and although he was never a believer in the popular theory, 
was astonished at the results. •* For five weeks," he says, 
" between the Slst of December, 1794, and the 3d of Feb- 
ruary, 1795, the whole number of burials amounted to 2,823 ; 
and in an equal period of five weeks, between the 30th of 
December, 179fS, and the 2d of February, 1796, it was 1,471 ; 
so that the excess of the mortality in the cold season above 
that of the mild season was not less than l,-352 persons; a 
number sufficient surely to awaken the attention of the most 
prejudiced admirer of a frosty winter."* 

In commenting on the efilicts of cold^on persons of dif- 
ferent ages, the same writer remarks that '* it is curious to 
observe among those who were said in the bills to die above 
sixty, how regularly the tide of mortality follows the influence 
of this prevailing cause; so that a person used to such inquiries 
may forna no contemptible judgment of the severity of any 
of our winter months merely by attending to this circum- 
stance. Thus, their number in January, 1796, was not much 
above one-fifth of that in 1795." The testimony of French 
physiologists to the same phenomena are, if possible, still 
more decisive.t 

Physiology teaches us that we ought to expect just such 
eflects, good and bad, from the application of cold as those 
we have mentioned. \Ve know from experience that its first 
action on the human borly is to diminish the action of the 
blood-vessels, especially of those near or at the surface ; the 
latter then become unable to transmit the blood in the 
usual quantity through the integuments ; and there are none 
who have lived for any time in a northern climate who are 
not more or less familiar at least with the effects of this 
obstructed circulation on the feet, hands, and other j^rarts 
that are farthest from the heart. But that organ suffers itself 
from the same cause ; it becomes weak together with the whole 
arterial system. It is this diminished action of the arterial 
system which causes that bluish, or livid color of the fingers, 
ears and other projecting points, which is observed in any that 

o Philoaophical Transactions for 1799. 

t **L'airfroid et humide," says Dr. MarkAndral, *'exeroe sur I'^nomie 
one influence encore plus facheose que Taire humlde et chaud," &c. 



1866.] PHYSIOLOGY A^D THE L'^SSONS TT TEACHES. 11 

remain too long in cold water. This, however, seldom does 
much harm; but if the cold application is long continued, 
the circulation is interrupted altogether and death ensues. 

The experience of early navigators and discoverers fur- 
nishes abundant evidence of the deleterious effer-ts of cold on 
the human system. The case of Captain Monck, a Dane, is 
doubtless familiar to many of our readers. In 16i9 he 
wintered in Hudson's Bay, latitude 63® 20', with the 
crews of two ships well provided twenty with necessaries ; 
the crews amounted to sixty-four persons, all of whom, 
except the Captain and two men, perished. Several of the 
Dutch navigators bear testimony to similar results. In 1633 
the Dutch government sent an expedition to the North 
tor the purpose of establishing watering-places at Spitzbergen 
and another point on the coast of Greenland. Seven col- 
onists were left at each place amply provided with all that 
seemed in any way necessary as a means of protecting 
them from .the intensity of the cold ; they were allowed 
not only flannels in abundance* but also furs, together with 
various kinds of liquors. But when the ships returned in 
the spring not one of the fourteen was alive; all were found 
dead Within their tents or near them ! 

We might easily multiply instances of this kind ; but it 
it not necessary. Without one at ail it would be sufficiently 
evident to any intelligent person that continued cold is dele- 
terious. It is too well known that as we approach nearer 
the north pole, not only animals, but also vegetables, become 
more and more stunted. The diminutive size of the Lap- 
landers and the barrenness of their soil are familiar to all ; 
and the same observation will apply to the Siberian tribes, 
the Kamtshadales, and the Samo.yedes. All are dwarfish in 
size ; and in the same regions the intellect is equally dwarfed. 

But we need not have gone to the polar regions in 
order to show that the action of cold has a stunting effect 
both on animals and vegetables. The fact is sufficiently 
proved by the Andes mountains, which have not a trace of 
vegetation nor a living animal above a certain elevation, in 
which the cold becomes intense, even within the tropics, 
from the rarity of the atmosphere. 

It is from physiology, aided by experience, that we have 
also learned what kinds of food and clothing are suitable for 
us in health and in sickness. On these subjects, too, the 
popular opinion and that of the quacks in whom they have 
most faith differ very widely from the teachings of science. 



12 PHYSIOLOGY AND THE LESSONS IT TEACHES. [December, 

We need not remind our readers that there are certain 
theorists who maintain that the simpler our food is and the 
more we confine ourselves to one article or two, the better 
shall be our health, both physically and mentally. It is 
true, indeed, that those who have been in the habit from 
their infancy of confining themselves to a few simple sub- 
stances often enjoy good health and long life; but even these 
are greatly improved by a more generous diet. Of all who 
have devoted attention to this subject none have investigated 
it more fully than the late Dr. Stark, of Vienna, who, in fact, 
sacrificed his life to it for the benefit of science. He pro- 
claimed on his death-bed, as the result of his long and pain- 
ful experience, that "simple substances when used as articles 
of food for a long space of time invariably bring the body 
into a state of extreme debility, and that there is not a sin- 
gle article of food, not even the most nutritious, that is capa- 
ble of sustaining the vigor of the body, or even of sustain- 
ing life itself, for any considerable period." 

The doctor had first been a vegetarian ; but without con- 
fining himself to any one, two, or three vegetables ; it ap- 
pears that as long as he pursued this course he did very. well. 
But having heard many statements of persons said to have 
enjoyed long life as well as good health by the simplest food 
taken in small quantities, he resolved to make the experi- 
ment on himself. First he tried bread and water; the re- 
sult, as might be supposed, was not very strongly in favor of 
that diet. He therefore added sugar, but did not find him- 
self improve much by it ; nor had he, a better report to make 
when he added, in turn, oil of olives and milk. Having now 
felt himself considerably debilitated, he resolved to try beef 
once more ; he had the lean stewed ; but took only gravy 
and water with it. He soon found that he was not likely to 
make any improvement under this diet ; but he was deter- 
mined never to yield until he discovered the right simple 
food, if it was possible. It occurred to him that flour was 
highly nutritious, and he resolved to try it with the addition 
of water and salt ; after the flour he tried the yolks of eggs ; 
and thus did he proceed from one experiment to another 
until finally he could eat nothing ! 

In commenting on this, in his excellent work on Animal 
Physiology, Dr. Smith mentions several interesting experi- 
ments made on the lower animals in order to test the justness 
of the conclusion arrived at by Dr. Stark. " A dog," he says, 
" fed exclusively upon white sugar and water appeared for 



1866.] PHTSiOLOoy and the lessons it teaches. 13 

seven or eight days to thrive well upon these substances ; 
he was lively, and he ate and drank with avidity. Towards 
the second week, however, he began to lose his flesh, though 
his appetite continued good. In the third week he lost his 
liveliness and appetite. An ulcer formed in the middle of 
each cornea, which perforated it, and the humor of the eye 
escaped : the animal became more and more feeble and died 
on the thirty -second day of the experiment. Results nearly 
similar ensued with dogs fed upon olive oil and distilled 
water; but no ulceration of the cornea took place, and anala- 
gous effects were observed in dogs fed upon gum and upon 
butter. A dog fed with white bread made from pure wheat 
with water died at the expiration of fifty days. Another 
fed exclusively on military biscuits suffered no alteration 
in his health. Rabbits and guinea-pigs fed upon one sub- 
stance only, as com, hay, barley, cabbage, carrots, and so on, 
die, with all the marks of inanition, generally in the first 
fortnight, and sometimes sooner. An ass fed upon boiled 
rice died in fifteen days, having latterly refused its nourish- 
ment. Dogs fed exclusively with cheese or with hard eggs 
are found to live a considerable period ; but become feeble, 
meagre, and lose their hair. When a certain degree of ema- 
ciation has been produced by feeding an animal for some 
time upon one substance, as, for instance, upon white bread 
during forty days, the animal will eat with avidity different 
kinds of food offered to it at that period ; but it does not re- 
gain its strength. It continues to waste, and dies about the 
same time at which its death would have happened had the 
exclusive diet been continued ; the digestive organs are irre- 
parably injured, and the due stimulus, though applied to 
them, cannot now restore them."* 

The physiologists of France and Germany have advanced 
some curious theories in order to account for these phenom- 
ena. M. Magendie has concluded from the above experi- 
ments, several of which he conducted himself, that the reason 
why animals cannot live for any length of time on pure 
sugar is because such substances are destitute of nitrogen. 
But a much more satisfactory reason is given by Dr. Smith 
in the work already quoted. •' The stomach," he says, 
" like other organs, can be excited to the due performance of 
its functions only by supplying it with an appropriate stim- 
ulQs. By a long and uninterrupted continuance of one and 

* Smith's Animal Phygiology, p. 48. 



14 PHT8I0L00Y AND THE LESSONS IT TEACHES. [December, 

the same alimentary substance, that substance probably loses 
its stimulating power; and thus, though it may abound 
with nutritive properties, the stomach is incapable of acting 
upon it."* 

We may remark, parenthetically, that these facts are of 
much greater importance than the casual observer would be 
likely to suppose ; for they concern all ranks and conditions 
of life, the young as well as the old, and they have attracted 
earnest attention accordingly ; it was they, in fact, which 
led Dickens to denounce the English boarding-school keep- 
ers, who kept the children intrusted to their charge so cold 
in winter and so hungry at all seasons thdt a large propor- 
tion of them permanently lost their health, many becoming 
insane ; and not a few died from no other cause than this bad 
treatment at the hands of those who pretended to represent 
their parents. And need we say that the same course is pur- 
sued to a considerable extent, at the present day, in our own 
country, by the same class of persons ; that is, persons who 
have no higher motive in undertaking the business of teach- 
ing than to make all the money they can ? 

This is one of the strongest reasons why we have long 
been of opinion that those who care for the education of 
their children and for their physical and intellectual well- 
being should select for them seminaries which are conducted 
by men or women known to be religious as well as learned, 
and who devote themselves to the training of youth partly 
because they love education for its own sake, and partly be- 
cause they think that, at least in their hands, it is favorable to 
religion. 

There is no danger that the pupils of persons of this 
class will suffer any privation that would injure them either 
physically or mentally; whereas students of the best intellects 
can seldom make much progress under the most learned in- 
structors if they are exposed to any considerable extent to 
the privations alluded to. We are not peculiar in believ- 
ing that many a promising youth is thus injured permanently 
by being intrusted to boarding-school speculators, even 
though those persons sometimes call their institutions 
seminaries, high schools, institutes, and even colleges ; 
the same* views are entertained by all thinking men who 
have devoted any attention to the subject. Thus, for ex- 
ample, Mr. Stuart Mills, the well-known writer on political 

o Animal Physiology, p. 51. 



1866.] FHT8I0L06T AND THE LKBSONS IT TEACHES. 15 

ecoDomy and education, has deemed it of sufficient import- 
ance to give its earnest discussion a prominent place in his 
excellent essay on education, contributed to the '* Encyclo- 
paedia Britannica '^ 

^^It is easy to see a great namber of ways in which deficient qnantity 
of food operates unfavorably upon the moral temper of the inind. As 
people are ready to saoritioe everything to the obtaining of a saflScient 
quantity of food, the want of it implies the most dreadfnl poverty ; that 
state in which there is scarcely any source of pletisure and in which 
almost every moment is subject to pain. It is found by a very general 
experience that a haman being, almost constantly in pain, hardly visited 
by a single pleasure, and almost shut out from hope, loses, by degrees, 
all sympathy with his fellow-creature?? ; contracts even a jealousy of their 
pleasures, and at last a hatred ; and would like to see all the rest of man- 
kind as wretched as himself. If he is habitually wretched and rarely 
permitted to taste a pleasure, he snatches it with an avidity and indulfres 
himself with an intemperance almost unknown to any other man. The 
evil of insufficient food acts with an influence not less malignant upon 
the intellectual than upon the moral part of the human mind. The physiol- 
ogists account for its influence in this manner: They say that the signs 
by which the living energy is manifested may be included generally 
under the term exciteabiliry, or the power of being put in action by 
stimulants. It is not necessary foir us to be very particular in explaining 
these terms ; a general conception will, for the present, suffice. A cer- 
tain degree of this exciteability seems necessary to the proper state, or 
rather the very existence, of the animal functions. A succession of 
stimulants of a certain degree of frequency and strength is necessary to 
preserve that exciteability. The most important by far of all tlie stimu- 
lants applied to the living organs U/ood. If this stimulant is applied in 
less than a sufficient degree, the exciteability is diminished in propoi*tion, 
and all those manifestations of the living energy which depend upon it,men- 
tal as well as corporal, are impaired ; the mind loses a corresponding part of 
its force. We must refer to the philosophical writers on medicine for illus- 
trations and facts, which we have not room to adduce, but which it will 
not be difficult to collect. Dr. Crichton places poor diet at the head of a 
listof causes which * weaken attention, and consequently debilitate the 
whole faculties of the mind,^ From this fact, about which there is no dis- 
pute, the most important consequences arise. It follows that when we 
deliberate about the means of introducing intellectual and moral excel- 
lence into the minds of the principal portion of the people, one of the 
first things which we are bound to provide for is a generous and animat- 
ing diet. The physical causes must go along with the moral; and Nature 
herself forbids that you shall make a wise and virtuous people out of a 
starving one. Men must be happy themselves before they can rejoice in 
the happiness of others ; they must have a certain vigor of mind before 
they can, in the midst of habitual suflfering, resist pleasures. Their own 
lives and means of well-being must be worth something before they can 
value, 80 as to respect, the life or well-being of any other person. This 
or that individual may be an extraordinary individual, and exhibit mental 
excellence in the miast of wretchedness, but a wretched and excellent 
people never yet has been seen on the face of the earth. Though far 
from fond of paradoxical expressions, we are tempted to say that a good 
diet is a necesaa/ry part of a good education, for in one very important sense 
it is emphatically true. In the great body of the people all education is 
impotent without it/' 



16 PHYSioLOGT AND THE LESSONS IT TSAOHBS. [December, 

These facts will account for certain phenomena exhibited 
at some of our colleges. Parents and guardians say, with 
apparently good logic, " Several of the professors are learned 
men ; they are at least sufficiently qualified for their posi- 
tions ; then it must be the fault of the boys themselves if 
they don't learn." It is not often, indeed, that this can be 
said of the class of institutions alluded to ; those who would 
cheat their students out of their food are not likely to pay 
liberal salaries to professors ; they take as much pains to get 
the latter cheap as they do to get cheap meat, cheap flour, 
cheap potatoes, &c., and a cheap professor will improve the 
mind very nearly as little as cheap meat or cheap potatoes 
will improve the body. 

Parents and guardians also say, *' Boys are liable to be 
sick and lose their health anywhere. Where could there 

be a more healthy place than College? They must have 

been consumptive before they went, although they seemed 
the very picture of health." In reasoning on the subject in 
this way it never occurs to them that the well-being of the 
mind as well as of the body requires a certain amount of 
wholesome food at all seasons, and in the winter a certain 
degree of warmth, besides that afforded by day or night 
clothing. Accordingly, the boys lose their health, and a 
large proportion of them die; but because they are generally 
from difierent parts of the country — always more or less 
distant from each other — their ill-health or death attracts 
no attention beyond the circle of their own friends ; and 
thus does the work of destruction go on from year to year. 

It is evident, then, that the parent or guardian should 
not merely inform himself as to the qualifications of the 
teachers or professors ; nor is it difficult to ascertain the 
other facts. Visiting some institutions, without the least 
idea of ill-treatment of the students, one is often puzzled to 
understand how so many can be fed and kept warm where 
so little materials for food or fuel are visible ; especially if he 
has visited any of those known to be amply provided in these 
respects; for those who have charge of the latter could 
hardly conceal, even if so disposed, the large stores which 
they lay in for the support and comfort of those committed 
to their charge. 

It may be seen from these remarks that in noting the 
effects ot cold and certain kinds of food on young and old 
our object was not merely to gratify curiosity, or to mention 
facts that are merely interesting. Although this, by itself, 



1866.] PHT8I0LCOT AND THE L1E8S0NS IT TEACHES. IT 

would have been a legitimate one, we had something more 
utilitarian in view ; and if we succeed in combining what is 
interesting with what is useful in seeking to call attention to 
the importance of physiology, we shall feel that we have the 
better reason to congratulate ourselves. In reference to the 
observations which we have just made many may say that 
while it is doubtless very true that in European countries 
students are cheated and permanently injured in the manner 
indicated, it is not likely, for various reasons, that any simi- 
lar course is pursued in this country to any serious extent. 
But there ij no sufficient reason for this incredulity ; whereas 
there are many reasons for the contrary, one or two of which 
we may mention briefly in passing. There are at least three 
times as many collegeo in this country, in proportion to the 
population, as there are in any of the principal countries of 
Europe. The European colleges generally get large grants 
from government ; yet scarcely any of them have a penny 
to spare. Our colleges have but seldom any such aid ; yet 
those who have charge of them often make money — that is, 
when their main object is to do so, and not to propagate their 
own views or convictions. 

It is evident that they could not do so if they treated 
their students fairly or honestly. In short, in ordt^r to do 
the latter without failing in the attempt they must regard 
pecuniary compensation as a secondary object, desiring 
nothing more for themselves than what is merely sufficient 
to support and clothe them as a judicious care for health 
requires. It would be all different, however, if it were true 
that any sort of food is good enough for students, and that 
the less they eat the better, or if it would do as well to lay 
out one hundred dollars for their use as five hundred dollars. 
But physiology teaches us, as we have seen, that students re- 
quire to be fed and kept warm as well as those who are not 
students, and that instead of the young being less liable to 
suffer from insufficient or inferior food, or from cold, than 
the adult, the reverse is the fact. It is true that the student 
does not require to eat so large a quantity as the boy of the 
same age and temperament who is engaged in manual labor ; 
hut the Ibod of the former should be at least as nutritive and 
wholesome as that of the latter. Indeed, what one could 
digest with comparative ease might prove fatal to the other, 
owing to the different effects of physical and mental labor 
on the digestive system. And still more strongly marked 
are the different effects produced by cold on the boy who 

VOL. XIV. — ^xo. xxvii. 2 



18 PEV8I0LO6T AND THB LESSONS tT TEACHES. [December, 

works with his bauds in the open air and him who w^rks 
with his mind in the class-room or dormitory ? It is well 
known that the temperature which would be invigorating 
to the former would scarcely be endurable to the latter, and 
that if he were long exposed to it his health would infallibly 
suffer. 

If it be admitted that knowledge is power, it must also be 
acknowledged that there is no power more valuable than 
that which we may learn to exercise over ourselves. Surely 
none can underrate what teaches us to take care of both 
mind and body, and preserve them from disease, and that 
physiology does so is the concurrent opinion of the greatest 
thinkers of ancient and modern times. 

At the same time, no other science or study is so well 
calculated to demonstrate the wisdom and beneficence of the 
Deity. With this view alone it has been treated by various 
writers of eminence in all enlightened countries. Dr. Roget 
tells us, in his excellent work on physiology,* that its object 
" is to enforce the great truths of natural theology, by adduc- 
ing those evidences of the power, wisdom, and goodness of 
God which are manifested in the living creation. The 
scientific knowledge, he adds, of the phenomena of life as 
they are exhibited under the infinitely varied forms of organi- 
zation constitutes what is termed Physiology, a science of 
vast and almost boundless extent, since it comprehends 
within its range all the animal and vegetable beings on the 
globe." It follows, then, that whether it be our object to 
acquire useful and important knowledge in regard to our- 
selves, or the innumerable beings that surround us, to 
realize more fully the gratitude which we owe the Creator, 
to refute the theories of the atheists and prove their absurd- 
ity, or simply to interest ourselves with what is wonderful, 
beautiful, or sublime, there is no other subject more worthy 
of our attention. 

The truth is, that those who devote even a small portion 
of their time to the study of animated nature find it ds 
attractive as an Eastern tale ; especially if they avail them- 
selves of the use of the microscope, which reveals to us an 
immense world of its own. But without any artificial aid 
there is much in animal life to excite our wonder; much, 
indeed, that is so wonderful as to seem utterly incredible to 
those who have not seen it for themselves. Thus, for ex- 

• Animal and Vegetable Physiology, &c., by Peter Mark Roget, M. D.> Sec- 
retary to the Boyal Sodety. 2 vols. 8vo. London. 



1866.] FHrsIOLOQT AND THB LBS80M8 IT TEACHES. 19 

ample, does ifc not soem difficult to believe that while the 
ventricle of the human heart does not contain more than an 
ounce of blood, it contracts at least seventy times in a mm- 
ute, so that more than three hundred (300) pounds of blood 
pass through this organ every hour we live. In illustration 
of the prodigious force with which the blood is drawn into 
the aorta. Dr. Roget mentions that " when we sit cross-legged 
the pulsation of the artery in the ham which is pressed upon 
the knee of the other leg is sufficiently strong to raise the 
whole leg and foot at each beat of the pulse/' 

We become so familiar with phenomena of this kind that 
we take no account of the causes wl^ich produce them ; and 
in proportion as animals of any kind are large and strong, 
this force of the blood is great in proportion. It is neces- 
sary not only to bear this in mind, but also to have some 
knowleda;e of physiology in order to believe statements like 
that of Palpy, namely, that " the aorta of a whale is larger 
in the bore than the main pipe of the water-works of London 
Bridge^ and the water roaring in its passage through that 
pipe is inferior in its impetus and velocity to the blood gushing 
through the whale's heart?^ It is, if possible, a still more 
remarkable fact that while such an immense quantity of 
water is constantly passing through this monster of the 
deep, animals one-twentieth part of its size have larger 
receptacles for the reception of water ; the reason obviously 
is, that the fluid is so constantly within its reach in the ele- 
ment in which it lives that the Creator, who never does any- 
thing in vain has simply omitted what was not needed. We have 
at least circumstantial proof of this in the large receptacles 
furnished other animals, such as are often placed in circum- 
stances in which they are likely to need them. As instances 
we need only mention the camel, the^elephant, and the horse. 
These animals are intended to perform journeys, or at least 
to perform a large amount of work, under circumstances in 
which it might not be always possible for them to get water 
that they could drink ; accordingly, each has been provided 
with a stomach which is used solely as a reservoir for water. 
In proportion as one was more likely to be used for long 
journeys, where water was scarce, than the others, his 
stomach is more capacious and better calculated to preserve 
the water in a fresh, wholesome state than those of the others. 
In commenting on these facts Dr. Roget describes the 
stomach of the camel and the aualagous cavity in the ele- 
phant : 



20 PHTsioLooT AND THE LESSONS IT TSACHSs. [December, 

" The remarkable provision above alladed to ia the eamel^ an animal 
which nature has evidently intended as the inhabitant of the sterile and 
arid regions of the East, is that of reservoirs of water, which, when once 
filled, retain their contents for a very long time, and may minister not 
only to the wants of the animal that possesses it, bat also to those of 
man. The second stomach of the camel has a separate compartment^ to 
which is attached a series of cellular appendages ; in those the water is 
retained by strong muscnlar bands, which close the orifices of the cells, 
while the other portions of the stomach are performing their nsnal func- 
tions. By the relaxation of these muscles the water is gradually allowed 
to mix with the contents of the stomach, and thus the camel is enabled - 
to support long marches across the desert without receiving any fresh 
supply. The Arabs who traverse these extensive plains, accompanied by 
these useful animals, are, it is said, sometimes obliged, when faint and in 
danger of perishing from thirst, to kill one of their camels for the sake 
of the water contained in these reservoirs, which they always find to be 
pure and wholesome. It is staled by those who have traveled in Egypt 
that camels, when accustomed to go journeys during which they are for a 
long time deprived of water, acquire the power of dilating the cells, so 
as to make them contain a more than ordinary quantity, as a supply for 
their journey. 

"When the elephant, while traveling in very hot weather, is tormented 
by insects, it has been observed to throw out from its proboscis, directly 
upon the part on which the files Qx. themselves, a quantity of water with 
such force as to dislodge them. The quantity of water thrown out is in 
proportion to the distance of the part attacked, and is commonly half a 

{>int at a time ; and this Mr. Pierard, who resided many years in India, 
las known the elephant to repeat eight or ten times within an hour. 
The quantity of water at the animars command for this purpose, observes 
Sir E. Home, cannot therefore be less than six quarts. This water is not 
only ejected immediately after drinking, but six or eight hours afterwards. 
Upon receiving this information Sir £. Home examined the structure of 
the stomach of that animal, and found in it a cavity like that •f the camel, 
perfectly well adapted to afford this occasional supply of water, which 
may at other times be employed in moistening dry food for the purposes 
of digestion/' 

These, it is true, are the largest animals dow Jknown to 
exist ; but the organs and general structure of the smallest 
are not less interesting than theirs; they are often much more 
80 ; they exhibit more wonderful strength in. proportion to 
their size, and more perfect mechanical skill. This is true 
even of animalculae, that never see the light»but come to life 
and die within the tissues of other animals, and which are so 
small that they can only be observed by means of a powerful 
microscope. 

Professor Ehrenberg has proved that there are nomads 
not larger than the twenty-four thousandth part of an 
inch, and that they are so thickly crowded in water — often 
in the blood — as to leave intervals not greater than their 
own diameter. From this that eminent physiologist calcu- 
lates that a single drop of water may contain five thousand 



1866.] PHTBIOlXlOT AND THE LESSONS IT TEAGHeS. 21 

millions of nomads; a namber equal to all the human beings 
on our globe. Tet he has satisfactorily proved that these 
minute animalcules possess internal cavities for the reception 
and digestion of their food. The species of infusoria known 
as the Roii/era are not much larger than the nomads; but by 
the aid of a powerful telescope Professor Ehrenberg has dis- 
covered in them traces of a muscular ^ a nervous^ and even a vas- 
cular system. He informs us that with a magnifying power 
of three hundred and eighty he has distinctly seen muscular 
bands running in pairs in this species between the two layers 
of transparent membrane which envelop the body. "When 
the animalcule," he says, *' throws itself into violent lateral 
contortions these firbous bands are observed to become broader 
and thicker, as well as shorter, ou the side towards which 
the contractions take place. There can, therefore, be no 
doubt that these are muscular organs, and that they are the 
real agents by which the motions witnessed are effected. 
These Rotifera or wheel animalcules, are so named from their 
being provided with an apparatus for creating a perpetual 
eddy or circular current in the surrounding fluid. The 
remarkable organs by which this effeet is produced are gen- 
erally two in number, and are situated on the head, but do 
not surround the opening of the mouth, as is the case with 
the teutaculae of polypes. They consist of circular discs,' 
the margins of which are fringed with rows of cilia, bearing 
a great resemblance to a crown wheel. This wheel appears 
to be incessantly revolving and generally in one constant 
direction, giving to the fluid a rotary impulse which carries 
it round in a constant vortex. The constancy of this motion 
would seem to indicate that it is related to some function of 
vital importance, such as respiration."* 

If we turn from the infusoria to the zoophytes, or ani- 
mated plants, as described by any competent physiologist 
or naturalist, we shall find a new source of interest, instruc- 
tion, and wonder. Professor Grant, of the London University, 
has paid more attention to this branch of natural history 
than perhaps any other naturalist of the present day. He 
shows us how they are found in the sheltered recesses of tlie 
deep, forming a covering to naked rocks, lining the walls of 
submarine caverns, and hanging in stalactites from their root. 
Most of the views of Protisssor Grant have been verified 
by Dr. Roget. The latter gives a very graphic and interest- 

• Animal and Vegetable PhyBiologj, &c. By Dr. Boget. Vol. ii, p. 118. 



22 PHT8I0L0GT AKD THE LESSOKS IT TEACHES. [Dccembcr, 

iug description of the manner in which the materials neces- 
sary for the subsistence of the sponge are all conveyed 
with the water into its interior. He informs us, also, that 
although adult sponges are permanently attached to rocks 
and other bodies, the young are provided with (he power of toco^ 
motion^ in order that tbey may seek a habitation at some dis- 
tance from their birthplace. " The parts of the sjfofigia 
paniceaf** he says, ** which are naturally transparent, contain 
at certain seasons a multitude of opaque yellow spots, visible 
to the naked eye, and which, when examined by means of a 
microscope, are found to consist of groups of ova, or more 
properly gemmules, since we cannot discover that they 
are covered with any envelope. In the courso of a few 
months these gemmules enlarge in size, each assuming an 
oval or pearl-like shape, and are then seen projecting from 
the sides of the internal canals of the parent to which 
they adhere by their narrow extremities. In process of 
time they become detached, one after the other, and are 
swept along by the currents of fluid which are rapidly 
passing out of the larger orifices. When thus set at liberty, 
they do not sink by their gravity to the bottom of the water, 
as would have happened had they been devoid of life ; but 
they continue to swin by their own spontaneous motions for 
two or three days after their separation from the parent. In 
their progression through the fluid they are always observed 
to carry their rounded, broad extremity forwards. On ex- 
amining this part with the microscope we find that it is 
covered with short filaments or ctVia, which are in constant 
and rapid vibration. Finally, when the body is attached by 
its tail or narrow end to some fixed object, the motion of the 
cilia on the fore part of the body determines a current of 
fluid to pass in a direction backwards, or towards the tail ; 
but when they are floating in the water the same motion 
propels them forward in an opposite direction, that is, with 
the broad, ciliated extremity foremost. About two or three 
days after these gemmules have quitted the body of the pa- 
rent they are observed to fix themselves on the sides or bot- 
tom of the vessel in which they are contained, and some of 
them are found spread out, like a thin circular membrane, 
on the surface of the water. In the former case they adhere 
firmly by their narrow extremity, \«rhich is seen gradually to 
expand itself laterally, so as to form a broad base of attach- 
ment. While this is going on the cilia are still kept in rapid 
motion on the upper part, scattering the opaque particles 



1866.] rBTSlOLOOY and the LESSON'S IT TEACHES. 23 

which may happen to be in the fluid to a certain distance 
around. But these motions soon become languid, and, in the 
course of a few hours, ce^e; and the cilia, being no longer 
wanted, disappear." • 

These are but a few of the characteristics of the sponge ; 
but they show how much is to be learned from an object appar- 
ently so simple. The lessons which it teaches us will be 
much enhanced in value and interest if we compare it to 
other animated beings. Thus, for example, while so many 
other beings have scarcely any motion at their birth, but 
acquire animation and vivacity in proportion to their age 
until they reach a certain period, the sponge has most ani- 
mation the first days of its existence, and when it attains 
what may be regarded as its adult age, it ceases to have any 
animation that is perceptible. There is no animal whose 
young is so helpless after birth, or so little capable of doing 
anything for itself as man, nor is there any animal on whose 
young time has a greater effect in the development of all its 
faculties. But we have illustrations enough of the same 
characteristics among the lower animals, quite sufficient even 
among the insect tribe* Thus, the insects known as the Tndwt 
and Scoloperdra have not the trace of a foot when they are 
hatched, but legs make their appearance in succession accord- 
ing to their age, as teeth make their appearance in children, 
until, finally, they have quite a number. Other species of the 
same insects have a few feet at birth, and they acquire 
many more as they advance in life. This is the case with 
the lndu3 terreslris^ which has six feet at its birth and eight 
segments, but finally acquires about tu?o hundred feet and 
fifty segments. The manner in which these and similar 
changes take place in the insect tribe are well described by 
Dr. Roget in the following passages : 

'* The progress of the me tamorphoses of insects is most strikinglj 
displayed in the history of the Lepidopierufy or butterfly and moth 
tribe. The egg which is deposited by the butterfly gives birth to a 
caterpillar, nn animal which, in outward shape, bears not the slightest 
resemblance to its parent, or to the form it is itself aftei'wards to assume. 
Il has, in fact, both the external appearance and the mechanical struc- 
ture of a worm. The same elongated cylindrical shape, the same annular 
structure of the denser parts of its integument, the same arrangements 
of longitudinal and oblique muscles connecting these rings, the same ap- 
paratus of short feet, with claws, or bristles, or tufts of hairs, for facil- 
itating progression ; in short, all the circumstances most characteristic 
of the yermiform type are equally exemplified in the different tribes ot 
caterpillars, as in the proper Annelida. 

« Animal and Vegetable Physiology, &c. By Dr. Boget. Vol. ii, p. 118. 



24 PHTBiOLOGT AND THs LESSONS IT TEXCHES, [December, 

'^Bat these Termiform iosecto have this pecnliaritj, that thej contain 
in their interior the mdiments of all the organs of the perfect insect. 
These organs, however, are concealed from view by a great number of 
membranons coverings, which successively invest one another like the 
coats of an onion, and are thrown off one after another, as the^ internal 

Earts are gradaidlj developed. These external investments, which 
ide the real form of the future animal, have been compared to a mask ; 
HO that the insect while wearing this disguise has been termed larva, 
which is the Latin name for a mask. 

'* This operose mode of development is rendered necessary in conse- 
quence of the greater compactcess^f the integuments of insecta as com- 
pared with those of the Annelida. In proportion as they acquire density 
they are less capable of being further stretched, and at length arrive at 
the limit of their possible growth. Then it is that they obstruct the 
dilatntion of the internal organs, and must be thrown off to make way 
for the further growth of the insect. In the meantime a new skin has 
been preparing underneath, molded on a larger model, and admitting of 
greater extension than the one which proceeded it. This new skin at first 
readily yields to the distending force from within, and a new impulse is 
given to the powers of development, until, becoming itself too rigid to be 
farther stretched, it must, in its turn, be cast off in order to give place to 
another skin. Such is the process which is repeated periodically, for a 
great number of times, before the larva has attained its full size. Tliese 
successive peelings of the skin are but so many steps in preparation for 
a more important change. A time comes when the whole of the cover- 
ings of the body are at once cast off^ and the insect assumes the form of 
' a j?i/j?a, or chrysalis, being wrapt as in a shroud, presenting no appear- 
ance of external members and retaining but feeble indications of life. In 
this condition it remains for a certain period, its internal system continu- 
ing in secret the farther consolidation of the organs until the period 
arrives when it is qualified to emerge into the world, by bursting asun- 
der the fetters which had confined it, and to commence a new career of 
existence. The worm which so lately crawled with a slow and tedioua pace 
along the surface of tlie ground now ranks among the sportive inhabit- 
ants of the air, and expanding its newly acquired wings, launches forwar<} 
into the element on which its powers can be freely exertedi, and which is 
to waft it to the objects of its gratification, and to new scenes of 
pleasure and delight." — Animal and Ve etdbU Physiology considered 
with reference to Natural Theology. 

If jGi^e turn our attention to the feathered tribe- we shall 
discover a new set of phenomena. In one specie^ of being 
it is the mechanism of the chief internal organs which 
interest us or excite our wonder ; in another it is the organs 
of locomotion; in another it is the metamorphoses; in 
another it is the external covering, &c. Although the organ- 
ism of birds has many peculiarities, yet it is in general so 
much like that of other animals that we pass it over in this 
article in order to leave room for something more interesting, 
since it would be idle to try to compress into one article 
details which fill many volumes. 

But very, few are aware of the admirable mechanisnrk 
of the feather; still fewer have any idea of the manuer 



1866.] PHTSIOLOOT AXD THE LES80XS IT TEACHES. 25 

in which the feathers of different kinds of birds are con- 
structed according to the use for which they are in- 
tended. It is well known that nothing ao perfectly com- 
bines lightness with strength as the hollow cylinder form- 
ing the horny portion of a quill ; but still more wonderful 
skill is displayed in the construction of the vane, or feathery 
part. Even in man himself there is no organ or structure 
that exhibits a stronger proof of design than this fcatheri 
which seems so simple to the ordinaiy observer. None who 
examine it with the microscope can think there is anything 
incredible in the expression that a sparrow cannot fall to the 
ground without the will of the Creator- 
One perfectly competent for the task who has thoroughly 
examined the vane of a feather tells us that '' it is com- 
posed of a number of flat threads, or filaments, so ar- 
ranged as to oppose a much greater resistance to a force 
striking perpendicularly against their surface, than to one 
which is directed laterally ; that is, in the plane of the 
stem. They derive this power of resistance from their 
flattened shape, which allows them to bend less easily in 
the direction of their flat surface than in any other; in 
the same way that a slip of card cannot easily be bent by 
a force acting in its own plane, though it easily yields to one 
at right angles to it. Now, it is exactly in the direction in which 
they do not bend that the filaments of the feather have to en- 
counter the resistance and impulse of the air. It is here that 
strength is wanted, and it is here that strength has been be- 
stowed. On examining the assemblage of these laminated 
filaments still more minutely, we find that they appear to adhere 
to one another. As we cannot perceive that they are united 
by any glutinous matter, it is evident that their connection 
must be effected by some mechanism invisible to the ^unas- 
sisted eye. By the aid of the microscope the mystery is 
unravelled, and we discover the presence of a number of 
minute fibrils arranged along the margin of the laminae, and 
fitted to catch upon and clasp one another whenever the 
laminae are brought within a certain distance. The fibrils of 
a feather from the wing of a goose are exceedingly numerous, 
above a thousand being contained in the space of an inch ; 
and they are of two kinds, each kind having a different form 
and curvature. Those which arise from the side next to the 
extremity of ti^e feather are branched or tufted, and bend 
downwards, while those proceeding from the other side of 
the lamina, or that nearest the root of the feather, are 



20 PHTSioLOGT AXD THE L"SjaNS IT TEACHES. [Djcem')er, 

shorter and firmer and do Dot divide into brances, but are 
booked at the extremities and are directed upwards. When 
the two laminae are brought close to one another the long, 
curved fibrils of the one being carried over the short and 
straight fibrils of the other^ both sets become entangled 
together, their crooked ends fastening into one another, just 
as the latch of . a door falls into tlie caVity of the catch 
which is fixed in the door-post to receive it. The way in 
which this takes place will be readily perceived by making a 
section of the vane of a feather across the laminae, and 
examining with a good microscope their cut edges while 
they are gently separated from one another. This mechan- 
ism is repeated over every part of the feather, and constitutes 
a closely reticulated surface of great extent, admirably cal- 
culated to prevent the passage of the air through it, and to 
create by its motion * that degree of resistance which it is 
intended the wing should encounter. In feathers not 
intended for flight, as in those of the ostrich, the fibrilstare 
altogether wanting ; in those of the peacock's tail the fibrils, 
although large, have not the construction which fits them 
for clasping those of the contiguous lamina, and in other 
instances they do so very imperfectly.* 

We might turn to the hair or the wool of animals and 
find in it equal proof of the adaption of a means to an end, 
and be forced to admit, if we have any candor or understand- 
ing, that no artificer has so perfectly altered his materials 
and forms in order to suit his work as a whole to the pur- 
pose for which it is designed ; for, as Cuvier has well remarked, 
** in all our researches we observe eo many kinds of experi- 
ments already prepared by nature, who adds or takes away 
different parts just as we might wish to do in our labora- 
torie3» and shows us, at the same time, the various results." 
But those who are disposed to find fault, or rather those who 
are ambitious to distinguish themselves by differing from the 
rest of mankind, will do so when they have an opportunity, 
no matter how conclusive are the evidences against their the- 
ories. In point of fact, there are very few, if any , real atheists ; 
those who write and speak as such are actuated by the vanity 
alluded to. If most of those who are regarded as atheists 
are learned men, this is no argument against the fact except 
it can be shown that learning entirely exempts us from the 
ordinary weaknessesofhumanity. There is no <joubt but it has 

^ Animal and Vegetable Physiology. 



1866.] PHYSlOLOpT AND THE LESSONS IT TSACHfiS. 27 

great influence in enabling us to control our passions, and to 
distinguish between right and wrong ; but we know from 
experience that it does not serve all alike. The man Who is 
naturally vicious cannot profit by it as much as the roan 
who is naturally virtuous ; accordingly, some use it as an 
instrument of evil instead of an instrument of good, and are 
fully aware at the same time of their moral guilt and of the 
pernicious influence of their conduct. 

It is much more likely that the chemist who prepares a 
liquid in his laboratory, in order that he may be able to 
destroy the life of his neighbor with impunity, is fully aware 
that he is doing a grievous wrong than that he believes that 
the eye was not made to see ; that the foot was not made to 
walk ; that the stomach was not made to digest ; that the 
tongue was not made to speak, &c. ; but that all were made 
by chance, and that, having been found suited for the pur- 
poses mentioned, they have been used for them. Now the 
question is whether any man who has had intellect enough 
to become learned in the proper sense of the term could 
really believe such as this. Some admit that they do so for no 
better reason than that the same views were professed by 
Empedocles, Epicurus, and Lucretius. The doctrine of these 
celebrities was, however,that all living beings came originally 
from the bosom of mother earth, after which each produced its 
like. They also admitted that some of the lower animals, 
especially insects, were derived from the decayed bodies of 
other animals. At least this is what we learn from the famous 
poem of Lucretius on the Nature of Things. We have no 
ancient prose works on the subject ; and experience teaches 
that in no age have the poets been very accurate in their ex- 
positions of doctrines. Those of the ancients who have left us 
serious works on the subject give very difierent ideas of the 
universe and its origin. This is true, for example, of Plato, 
Aristotle, Cicero, and Seneca ; and in modern times also it is 
the greatest minds and the most learned men that have 
evinced the strongest faith in the Creator of the universe. 
A certain class of naturalists stiU clung to the Epicurean 
doctrine, until Harvey devoted a considerable portion of his 
life about the middle of the seventeenth century to the proof 
of the doctrine ** omne vivum ex ovo" in which laudable effort 
he was followed by several other physiologists of eminence, 
including Spallanzani, Dumas, Rem, Ehrenberg, Doydre, and 
others. 

The researches and experiments of these investigators 



23 PHYSIOLOGY AND THE LESSONS H TisACHE's. [December, 

have produced very important effects on the public opinion 
of the world. It is certain that there are not so many now 
who are anxious to be known ais atheists as there were before 
their time, for the opinion generally entertained among 
physiologists and naturalists is that one of the characteristics 
of organized beings, whether animals or plants, by which 
they are distinguished from insect matter, is the fact that 
they owe their origin to other beings precisely similar to 
themselves, and of which they are the true offspring. But 
none can be convinced against their will. As already 
observed, those disposed to doubt and deny will always find 
some excuse t) do so. Because there are countless myriads 
of animalcules so minute that it is impossible to learn, even 
with the aid of the most powerful microscope, how they arc 
produced, the skeptics maintain the doctrine of sponta- 
neous generation ; that is, because they cannot tell how a 
particular thing originated, they say it originated itself. 
Firet, this theory was confined exclusively to insects, and 
it was held thut it could not be disputed, at least in their 
case, since all know that worms or maggots swarm on the 
dead carcasses of animals. But Redi, an eminent physiolo- 
gist, set to work carefully, in the interest of science and 
truth, and proved bj a long series of experiments, conducted 
in the most philosophical manner, that those maggots or 
worms are nothing more or less than the larvae, or immature 
young of the insects. 1 his, however, was but a part of the 
good work. He also demonstrated that i he larvae themselves 
were produced from eggs deposited by flies or other insects, 
and to all who were willing to be convinced and to devote 
the necessary attention to his experiments he exhibited the 
transitions of the insects through all their different stages, 
from the egg to the fully developed state. 

The spontaneous generation of the worms was now 
abandoned by nearly all ; but those disposed to deny their 
Creator soon found a new excuse to do so. The infusoria 
brought to notice by the microscope afforded them the 
opportunity they wanted ; it was found from the experiments 
of Spallanzaui, Needham, and others, that during the de- 
composition of various organic matters, animal tis well as 
vegetable, myriads of microscopic beings made their appear- 
ance. Of course no one could tell how these were produced ; 
ergo, it must follow that they had a spontaneous origin. 
This theory, too, was in due time refuted. Spallanzani ex- 
plained the production of these animals. by supposing ova to 



1866.] PHTBIOLOOY AND THS LK8S0N8 IT TEACHES. 29 

have been present in the fluid, and to be developed by the 
influence of warmth, water, air, and light ; and his explana* 
tion was proved to be correct by others. But the objectors 
had still one plausible pretext left for maintaining their 
theory ; it was found that a numerous race of beings, now 
known as Entozoa^ inhabit the interior of all animals. How, 
it is triumphantly asked, could these havQ been produced 
from ova? how could the ova have passed through their 
tissues ? It follows, then, that these at least, are the results of 
spontaneous generation. Of course no one could prove the 
contrary ; but if we cannot prove or show how a certain being 
has been produced, it does not follow that he produced him- 
self. This has been the reply of the greatest naturalists and 
physiologists. *' Although the impossibility of spontaneous 
generation cannot be absolutely demonstaated " says Cuvier, 
** yet all the efibrts of those physiologists who believe in the 
possibility of it have not succeeded in showing us a single in- 
stanceJ'^ 

Among the physiologists who have confirmed the views 
of Spallanzani and borne testimony to the general accuracy 
of his experiments are M. Doyere and Professor Muller. 
The former devoted so much attention to the subject that 
he induced the Academy of Sciences of Paris to appoint a 
Commissioner to investigate it. The main point to which he 
called the attention ot the Commission was that animal- 
cules are capable of being deseccated — deprived of all their 
moisture — that they may remain in this state for an indefi- 
nite time, and then be resuscitated by water. This was 
proved by experiments. The Commission announced in its 
j*eport that the deseccation was not efiected merely by the 
natural and spontaneous evaporation of the fluids exposed to 
the air, but was carried still farther by confining the animals 
dried on slips of glass, for the space of five days, in the 
vacuum of an air-pump, over a vessel containing sulphuric 
acid ; others were left thirty days in a Torricellian vacuum 
dried by chloride of lime ; and in every instance he obtained 
some resuscitations. The Commission reported that M. 
Doydre had also proved that although animalcules in general 
are known to perish when their temperature is raised above 
a certain limit, and that those on which he had experimented, 
namely, the Hotifers and Tardigrades, formed no exception to 

* '* Rapport Historique sur les Progr^ des Sciences NaturelleBdepuis, p. 194. 



30 PHYSIOLOGY AXD THE LESSONS IT TEACHES. [December, 

this law, but perished when the water in which they were 
was heated to 105=* Fahrenheit, the case was altogether dif- 
ferent when they had been previously dried. 

' In an experiment repeated in the presence of the Com- 
mission a certain quantity of moss containing Tardigrada 
was placed in a stove and around the bulbof a thermometer, 
the stem of which extended out of the apparatus. Heat was 
gradually applied until the thermometer thus placed rose to 
24S^ Fahrenheit. This temperature was maintained for sev- 
eral minutes, and yet some of the animalcules contained in the 
moss returned to life and appeared in their usual condition 
after having been placed twenty-four hours in water. The 
best physiologists of Eilrope, including French, German, 
English, and Italian, and several of those who had hitherto 
been in favor of the doctrine of spontaneous generation, re- 
garded the question as now settled. Among those who 
first seemed to waver was the celebrated Q-erman physiolo • 
gist, MuUer ; but no sooner did he become aware of the re- 
sults of the above experiments than he rejected the doctrine 
of spontaneous generation as absurd. In commenting on the 
facts elicited and on certain new attempts made by the advo- 
cates of spontaneous generation, he remarks that " the equiv- 
ocal generation of infusoria is not better proved by the 
experiments in which boiled organic substances and common 
water were used ; for the water may have contained the ova of 
infusoria, or animalcules themselves, which have afterwards 
multiplied very rapidly at the expense of the organic matter, 
in the infusion. The use of perfectly pure distilled water 
can scarcely be presupposed, for even water distilled five 
times may still contain organic particles. Those who have ex- 
perimented with fresh organic substances and distilled water, 
or even artificially prepared gases, cannot prove that the ova of 
animalcules, or animalcules themselves, were not in some way 
contained im the organic substance ; the microscopic animal- 
cules, which are known to exist in living tissues, are, indeed, 
few, and the common globules of the organic fluids, such as 
those of the blood, have certainly no individual life ; but 
mucus itself contains microscopic animals ; the internal mu- 
cus of the frog, as well as the semen, contains animalcules. 
Baer has seen microscopic particles moving spontaneously 
in different part of mussels. The grain of wheat and some 
varieties of agrostis often contain vitriones, which, even 
afier being dried^ recover their active life if moistened. Some 
Entozoa, also, but still more, some Epizoa, willcontinue to 



1866.] PHTfilOLOOT AXD THB LESSONS IT TBAGHBS. 81 

live when placed in water.' • These are the animacules hith- 
erto believed to be capable of exi«5ting only in the interior of 
animals ; and since it was proved that they could live in water 
exposed to the atmosphere, as observed by Professor Muller, 
the [)rincipal argument in support of their spontaneous pro- 
duction fell to the ground. 

As another reason why we should not be too ready 
t-o arrive at conclusions which are at variance alike with 
reason and analogy, the Professor remarks, further on, 
that Ehrenberg discovered the real germs of the fungi arfd 
algae or mould. "TAc propagation of these organic bodies 
was thus established ; it was shown that by reason of the 
germx^ or seeds of the mouldy new motdd can be produced.** f 
Yet, another fact is stated by Muller, which is very import- 
ant in its bearing on the subject under consideration. 
"With regard,*' he sajrs, "to the infusory animalcules, their 
complicated structure was first discovered by Ehrenberg ; ho 
found that the smallest nomad, -rtuiii of a line in diameter, 
has a complicated stomach and organs of motion^ in the form of 
cilia. In others he observed the ova and the propagation by 
ova. This excited the greatest doubt with regard to those 
earlier observations in which, the complicated structure of 
these animalcules being unknown^ they were said to have been seen 
to originate in particles of the organic substance of the infusion.^^X 

Thus it is that science, properly so called, sooner or later, 
dispels error; and no science has dispelled graver errors than 
physiology. But here we need only to allude to one ; be it 
remembered that the principal atheistical works of ancient 
and modern times are founded on the error above ei^posed. 
Baron D'Halbach as well as Lucretius has founded this 
absurd theory on the assumption that in certain circumstances 
animalcules, and even larger beings, are produced without 
germs. Ridiculous though it may appear to those unac- 
quainted with the facts, D'Halbach's System of Nature is 
based on a story that eels were produced spontaneously. 
Needham, tin English chemist, distinguised much more for 
his love for the marvelous than for his skill in chemis- 
try, pretended that, having put some rye-meal into well 
corked bottles, and some boiled mutton gravy into other 
bottles, each gave birth to eels which in turn produced other 
eels. Many even of those who called themselves scientific 

• Elements of Phyriology. By J. MaUer, M. D. Vol. i, p. 16. + lb. 

Jib. Vol. i, p. 19. 



82 PHTSiOLooT AND THB LESSONS IT TEACHES. [December, 

men believed the story ; and having believed that chemistry 
and nature could make eels, they had little trouble in com- 
ing to the conclusion that men were made by a similar pro<- 
cess, and consequently that there was no need for a universal 
Creator. 

We have already shown how Spallanzani proved by 
experiments the absurdity of all such stories as that of the 
eels, and how the most eminent physiologists and naturalists 
since his time have confirmed his views. But science is con- 
tinually affording new refutations of the atheistic doctrine. It 
is a sufficiently strong argument against the chance theory, 
that all things that have life have several attributes and char- 
acteristics in common ; this is true even of vegetables as com- 
pnred to animals. M. Magendie, one of the most worthy of the 
disciples of BufTon and Cuvier, tells us in his valuable work 
that the chief differences between animals and vegetables are the 
ojUowing : " Animals haveazote for the base of their composi- 
tion, while Vegetables have carbon ; Vegetables are com posed 
of four orfive elements; Animals are often composed of eight 
or ten ; Animals are compelled to act upon their aliment, in 
order to render it suitable to nourish them, while Vegetables 
obtain their aliment around them ready prepared"* In dis- 
cussing the same subject, another eminent physiologist re- 
marks that *' it is a great mistake to suppose that there is any- 
thing fundamentally difierent in the character of the vital opera- 
tions as performed in the animal and vegetable structures, or 
in the simpler and more complicated organisms of either 
kingdoms.'* t This does not remain a mere matter of asser- 
tion ; it is a fact amply proved. Macaire has as fully demon- 
strated the circulation oi the sap in vegetables as Harvey 
has that of the blood in animals, and the two circulations 
are precisely analogous in their nature and effects. Dr. 
Roget has also given us a fine essay on the/ood of plants, 
which he tells us consists of water, conveying along with it 
a certain portion of air and carbonic acid gas, and the earthy, 
saline and metallic ingredients which it holds In solution- 
He calls our attention to the (Sorption of this nutriment by 
the spongioles of the roots, and sometimes by every part of 
the Burlace of the plant ; also the ascent of this food or 

* Precis Elemmiaire de rhymtogie. Par F. Magendie, Membre dc I'Institute 
de Franoe, &c. p. 15. 

^Carpenter's Princifla vf Oeneral and Cdmparative Phytklogy, Second edition. 
London, p. 4. 



1H66.] PRTBIOLOOT AND THB LGSBONS If TBACHBS. 33 

sap in a crude state along the stem and into the leaves, tra- 
versing the ligneous substance of the stem chiefly, and in 
trees the alluvium or recently formed wood, and passing 
along the intercellular spaces* 

But this is not all. We^are shown the exhalation of the 
purely aqueous part of the sap, and the stomata or pores of 
tiie leaves ; the aeration of this sap by the action of solar light 
upon the leaves ; then the return of the sap highly charged 
with nutriment along the lobes or iimermost layers of bark 
and the alluvium or outermost layer of wood, depositing the 
difierent materials which are necessary for the growth and 
health of those parts ot the plant, the same as the blood 
makes its deposits in passing through the structures of 
animals. Macaire has also proved that the vegetable, 
as well as the animal, is capable of excreting from its circu- 
lation such particles as are superfluous or noxious. Nor has 
that eminent physiologist confined himself to proving that 
this excretion regularly takes place. He has also proved 
that when a plant has grown in any particular place so long 
that the noxious excretion has had time to accumulate, the 
soil becomes unsuitable for it ; and if it is not transplanted to 
another soil it will decay and die, although the same excre- 
tion may be beneficial to other plants. These facts have been 
fully established by M. Macaire, and they are commented 
upon as follows by an English physiologist scarcely less 
eminent : 

^^ The roots of the Ghondrilla muralis were carefallj cleaned, and 
immersed in filtered rain-water; the water was changed everj two days, 
and the plant continued to flourish aad put forth its blossoms ; at the 
end of eight days the water had acquired a yellow tinge, and Indicated, 
both by the smell and taste, the presence of a bitter narcotic substance, 
analogous to that of opium ; a result which was farther confirmed by 
the application of chemical tests, and by the reddish brown residuum 
obtained from the water by evaporation. M. Macaire ascertained that 
neither the roots nor the stems of the same plants, when completely de- 
tached and immersed in water, could produce this effect, which he there- 
fore concludes is the result of an exudation from the roots, oontinuolly 
going on while the plant is in a state of healthy vegetation. By com- 
parative experiments on the quantity of matter thus excreted by the 
roots of the French bean (Phauolua vulaaris) during the night and the 
day, he foand it to be much more considerable at night ; an effect which 
it is natural to ascribe to the interruption lu the action of the leaves 
when they are deprived of light, and when the corresponding absorption 
by the roots is also suspended. This was confirmed by the result of 
some experiments he made on the same plants, by placing them, during * 
daytime, in the dark, under which circumstances the excretion from the 
roots was found to be immediately much augmented ; but even when ex- 
posed to the light, there is always some exudation, though in small quan- 
tity, going on from the roots. 

WU XIV, — ^NO. XXVII. 3 



84 PHTBioLOor AND THK LBB8058 IF TKAGHB8. [December, 

"That plants are able to free themselves hy means of this ezcretorj 
process from nozions materials which they may happen to haye imbibed 
through the roots, was also proved by another set of experiments on the 
Mereurialii anntta^ the Seneeio vulfforif, aod jDrtmiea campeitrh^ or 
common cabbage. The roots of each specimen, after being thoroughly 
washed and cleaned, were separated into two bunches, one of which was 
put iuto a dilated ^solution of acetate of lead, and the other into pure 
water, contained in a separate vessel. After some days, daring which 
the plants continued to vegetate tolerably well, the water in the latter 
vessel being examined was found to contain a very perceptible quantity 
of the acetate of lead. The experiment was varied by first allowing the 
plant to remain with its roots immersed in a similar solation, and then 
removing it after careful washing* in order to free the roots from any 
portion of the salt that might have adhered to their snr£ace, into a ves- 
sel with rain water; after two days distinct traces of the acetate of 
lead were afforded by the water. Similar experiments were made with 
lime water, and with a solution of common salt instead of the acetate of 
lead, and were attended with the like results. Do Oandolle has ascer- 
tained that certain maritime plants, which yield soda and which flourish 
in situations very distant from the coast, provided they occasionally re* 
ceive breezes from the sea, communicate a saline impregnation to the 
soil in their immediate vicinity, derived from the salt which they doubt- 
less had imbibed by the leaves. 

* '' Although the materials which are thus excreted by the roots are 
noxious to the plant which rejects them, and would consequently be inju- 
rious to other individuals of the same species, it does not therefore follow 
that they are incapable of supplying salutary nourishment to other kinds 
of plants ; thus, it has been observed that the SaUoaria flourishes par- 
ticularly in the vicinity of the willow, and the Orohanehe^ or broomrape, 
in that of the hemp. This fact hai» also been established experimentally 
by M. Macaire, who found that the water in which certain plants had 
been kept was noxious to other specimens of the same species ; wliile, on 
the other hand, it produced a more luxnrfant vegetation in plants of a 
different kind."* 

But this paper has already grown too long ; if, notwith- 
standing its length, there are many important physiological 
facts to which we have not been able even to alludei our apolo- 
gy is that we could not be expected to compress in to one arti- 
cle details which have been found too nnmerous by several 
physiologists for many volumes. Impressed with this at the 
outset, our purpose has been nmply to select from the 
boundless mass of facts such as seemed best calculated to 
combine interest with utility, and thus attract the attention 
of as many as we could to the study of a science with whose 
fundamental principles, at least, all should be more or less 
femiliar. Trusting that our attempt has not been entirely 
in vain, it will afford us pleasure to recur to the subject on 
an early occasion, and consider in a separate article each of 
those branches which in the present paper have necessarily 
been only referred to in general terms. 

■ t ^ 

• Animal and Vegetable Physiology, &c. By Peter Mark Boget, M. D« 



}666.] CUBA, ITS BKSOUR0E8 AKD DESnNT. 85 



Art. II. — 1. Hlsioire physique^ politique, ,et natureUe de Vile de 
Cuba. Par M. Ramon de la Saora. Paris : 1864. 

2. Jpuntes para la Ristoria de la isla de Cuba, Por D. J. Maria 

DE LA Torre. Havana: 1857. 

3. Eistai politique surTilede Cuba. Par A lexandre de Humboldt. 

Avcc UQ Carte et Supplement, &c. Paris. 

4. To Cuba and Bach A VaccUion Voyage. By Richard Hbxrt 

Dana, Jr.. Boston. 

6, Letters Written in the Interior of Cuba between the Mountairu 
o/ Arcana, to the East, and of Cueeo to the West, do. By tiie 
Rev. Abiel Abbot, D. D. Boston. 

There is no charge more frequently preferred against 
the American Republic than that it is too ambitious, too 
fond of annexation ; at the same time no charge is less just. 
Both our people and our government have faults enough, 
but this is not one of them. Many of our European censors 
may smile at this, and wonder how we can* deliberately make 
such a statement; but it is not the leas true on this account. 
Nor shall we ask anyone to accept oar assertion in re/i^ard 
to it any further than we can prove that it 13 correct. First, 
let us ask, what neighboring states has the Republic attacked 
during the whole period of its existence for the purpose of 
annexing them ? The only one that can be pointed to under 
any pretext is Mexico ; but no candid person who has made 
himself acquainted with the history of our war with that 
Republic would pretend for a moment that the love of con- 
quest, or of annexation was our motive in engaging in it. If 
a portion of Mexican territory ^as annexed to this country 
at the close of the war, it has been duly paid for. We gave a 
large sum for it in hard cash — probably more tnan any other 
nation would have given at the time. This we would not 
have done had our disposition as a people been what it is 
represented ; we could have annexed much more Mexican 
territory than we did without paying a penny for it more 
than the cost of the war. 

Nor would we have been satisfied with this. Were we 
the grasping, ambitious, filibustering people which it is the 
fashion in Europe to regard us we could have attacked Can* 
ada long since ; and had we earnestly done so no statesman 
or general who has any approximate idea of our resources 
can doubt what would have been the result. The leading 



36 ciTBA, ITS BEsotJECBSAin) BBSTiMT. [December, 

men of England have admitted more than once that it would 
be impossible to protect Canada from us if we were really 
determined on seizing it ; it is the consciousness of this fact 
that has prompted the British government to tell the Cana- 
dians that if they felt disposed to dissever their connection 
with England the latter would make no effort to coerce 
them. Yet, instead of making any attack on Canada the 
American government sends national troops and national 
ships to protect it from naturalized American citizens whose 
object isy not to annex that countiy or to conquer its inhab 
itants, but to secure the liberty of their fellow-countrymen 
iu another part of the world. Now, need we say .that this 
is not the course which ambitious State pursues f 

But we have yet another argument to adduce against this 
charge of undue ambition and inordinatelove of annexation. 
Nor need we do more than mention the name of Ctdja to 
remind any thoughtful person that this argument alone 
would be sufficient to acquit us. That we could have seized 
it at almost any time within the last ten years few acquainted 
with the facts will deny ; and it will be admitted with equal 
unanimity that no more valuable prize could tempt the cu- 
pidity of a nation. Yet far from making any attempt to 
appropriate it the American government has frequently frus- 
trated the efforts of private individuals who have sought to 
get up expeditions. in this country for the purpose of wrest- 
ing the Island from the grasp of Spain. These facts are so 
notorious that we need only allude to them. 

Now, can anything similar be said of the general policy of 
those states that are known to be ambitious and fond of annexa- 
tion ? Is it usual with Russia, for example, to pay for a territory 
which she conquers and happens to like ? When did the Czar 
send troopsorvesselsof war to prevent hissubjects from making 
inroads on the territories of his neighbors? Has he not, on 
the contrary, seized on more or less of every country within 
his reach, whether a republic or a despotism ? In proof of 
this we need only refer to the fine provinces formerly belong- 
ing to Turkey Persia, China, and Poland, which now form an 
integral part ot the Russian empire. 

Similar results are revealed by the history of Austria. Napo- 
leon the First annexed nearly half of Europe to France. And 
has not England annexed all that she felt able to annex?* It is 
not our object in this article to reproach any nation, or people, 
any further than is necessary to showthat those states that really 
arc ambitious and fond of appropriating the territories of 



1866.] CTTBA, ITS RESTOUBCSS AND DEftTIXT. 87 

tbeir neighbors have left us suflScient proofs of their dispo- 
sition in that respect. England has certainly done so, espe- 
cially in India ; we have never pursued any such course as 
she has there, and it is to be hoped for our credit's sake that 
we never shall. 

Now, may we not think it very doubtful that if Cuba 
had been so near any of the nations mentioned that she 
would still have remained in the hands of Spain ? But 
this question can be better answered after we have devoted 
some attention to the real character of the Island, its re- 
sources and present political and social condition ; for, com- 
paratively near as it is to us, our people in general have but 
very vague ideas of its importance. They know much more 
about any country in Europe ; more about the empire of 
Brazil, as well as about Mexico, Peru, and Chile, although 
certain it is that there is no part of the New World of equal 
extent which is so interesting as the Island of Cuba, and no 
equal amount of territory beyond the bounds of the United 
States is so important. 

It will be admitted that a country of which this can be 
truly said ought to be better known than it is, and hence it 
is that we make Cuba the subject of the present article. We 
do not do so, however, with any filibustering motives. We 
hold, on the contrary, that it does not follow that because 
the American government could easily wrest so rich and 
important a possession from Spain it ought to do so. To 
counsel any such course would be to counsel robbery and 
piracy. That others have done so, and done much worse, 
is no reason why we should^ no matter what charges are 
made against us by the very parties who would have least 
scruples in seizing on the Island if they had any decent pre- 
text or opportunity to do so — the parties, in lact, who did 
seize upon it long since, and would not have parted with it 
had not circumstances occurred at the lime which rendered 
it advisable not to seem too greedy. Even then the island 
was restored only in exchange for Florida. 

But although we would not interfere with the present 
condition of affairs in Cuba^ or attempt, under any pretence 
to deprive Spain of a colony to which she may be said 
to be fairly entitled, at least as long as the colonists them- 
selves make no earnest effort to free themselves from her yoke, 
this is no reason why we should not look to the future. If 
we are now on friendly terms with Spain, we do not know 
how long we may be so ; we do not Know how long other 



88 CUBA, ITS BE80URCB8 AND DEBiiKT. [December* 

nations who would be glad of un opportunity to seize on the 
Island may be on friendly terms with her ; and if no such the* 
ory as the Monroe doctrine had ever been heard of, our gov- 
ernment would be sadly derelict in its duty if it looked on 
unconcernedly while it saw the Gem of the Antilles taken 

gossession of by another European power. The moment 
pain proves her inability to hold the Island any longer and 
that another power attempts to seize it, we have a perfect 
right to seize it for ourselves according to the law of nations, 
and still more according to the natural law which prompts 
nations as well as individuals to protect themselves and to 
oppose whatever has a tendency to injure them. 

There are many reasons why the United States could 
not regard with indifference any change which would place 
the Island of Cuba in the hands of any of the great maritime 
powers of Europe. A glance at the map of the New World 
would show this without any knowledge of the productions 
of the Island. Not only is it the largest and most fertile of 
all the West India islands, it is also the nearest of the Antilles 
to the United States^ being only about 130 miles from Florida* 
Its length is estimated at between 730 and 790 English 
miles, and a considerable portion of it varies in breadth from 
80 to 126 miles, the average breadth being about 55 miles. 
There ismAch discrepancy among writers as to its area, but 
probably the most approximate estimate is that which makes 
it 44,000 square miles, exclusive of the Isle of Pines which 
is 81 square miles. Humboldt estimates its extent as nearly 
equal to that of England exclusive of Wales ; > but its coast' 
line is much longer than that of England, or any other Euro* 
pean nation, being, over 2,000 miles. Its population exceeds 
that of any of the large States of South America, with the 
exeeptfon of Brazil ; in 1853 it was nearly a million and a 
half, according to the census taken under the direction of 
Don Jos^ de la Torre. But none of these figures give any 
adequate idea of the value or importance of Cuba ; these 
must be estimated, as the tree is, by its fruit.* 

It is nothing new for Cuba to be an interesting and 
attractive country. It was one of the first parts of the New 

o L'inmortanoe politique de Tile de Cuba n'est pas seulement foiid^ 
BUT r^tendae de sa Bxufauoe, qui est de la moiti^ plus icxande que oelle 
d'HaIti, BUT radmiiable fertmt^ de Bon sol, sar bob ^toblisBemens de marine 
militaiie et sor la nature d'une population oompOBfe, pour tiois cinqui- 
hmeB, dlLommeB libies: eUe a'agnuiait encore par le$ avantage$ de la po9^ 
Hon gicgrmMque de la Havane^-^Euai poiUique $ur Ctlede Cuba. Par Alex- 
andre de Humboldt. Vol. i, p. 1. 



186&] CHTBA, m BB8017BCB3 AND DBSnirT. 39 

Worid discovered by Columbus, and with its early records 
are also associated the names of Cortez, De la Cosa^ Velas* 
quez, Bernald Diez, Sebastian, OcampOi Ac, all of whom 
made it their headquarters in fitting up their expeditions 
against various continental states which they subjugated one 
iJter another. All admired it both for its beauty and fertility, 
describing it in their letters as a new garden of Eden ; but 
none spoke more enthusiastically of it than Columbus, who 
was prouder of it than any other country he had discovered. 
" Nothing is more beautiful " he writes, *^ than this island ; 
its shores present an infinity of excellent ports and of deep 
rivers ; the sea which surrounds it must be always calm, 
since the vegetation extends to the brink of the water.*' As 
he proceeds he compares it to Sicily. ** The fresh breezes," 
be says, *< embalm the air throughout the nighf In an- 
other of his letters he remarks, in the same enthusiastic spirit, 
that ** language is incapable of describing all the wonders of 
the country." In one of his letters to Ferdinand and Isa^ 
bella he makes use. of the following language in regard to 
Cuba:* *^I shall not speak to your highnesses of the tm*« 
mense advantages which will one duy be derived from it / euch a 
country must afford great resources"* There is something 
prophetic in this ; and in the same letter the great navigator 
calls Cuba the Alpha and Omega, so much did he think it 
superior to every other place he had discovered. 

Yet it was not until a comparatively recent period 
that the Spanish government gave that attention to 
the Island wnich its importance claimed. It was otherwise, 
however, with England, who sought various pretexts to get 
possession of it; she made offers to the King of Spain at dif* 
ferent times, telling him that while it was of little use to 
him, and was indeed not worth much by itself, its proximity 
to her North American colonies would render it of great ser- 
vice to her. It seems that the Spanish government regarded 
this as a pretty correct statement of the facts, and that it 
refused to cede the Island to England for whatever consider-' 
ation she offered for it, because it thought such a proceeding 
beneath its dignity. When England saw that the Island was 
not to be procured by fair means she openly attacked it in 
1762, as intimated above, while the Spanish authorities had 
no apprehensions of any danger. Havana, thus unprepared, 
was easily taken, and England retained possession or it for 
two years* 

" * Je ne parleral pas ft vos altesses dee immenaes avantages qn elles en 
retireroDt nn Jour ; one pareUle contr^e doit offirir blen des Tessoaioes." 



40^ CUBA, ITS BI80UBCI8 AND DESTDTr. [December, 

Although Spain lost much by this invasion and occupa* 
tion, it was the best occurrence that could have happened to 
her, for she was now convinced of the importance of Cuba. 
Accordingly she immediately commenced those fortifications 
which, even at the present day, when military art has made 
such progress, rank with the strongest in the world. In the 
course of five years she expended fifteen million dollars in 
fortifying the port of Havana alone. She has never since 
relaxed her attention to Cuba ; and every succeeding year 
has convinced her more and more that the Island has been of 
more value to her than all her other American colonies 
together, immense as the latter were in their extent. 

But it is not alone its situation and fertility that render 
Cuba a more desirable country than any of the other Spanish 
colonies, for be it remembered that scarcely any of the 
aboriginal inhabitants remained in Cuba after its conquest ; 
all writers on the subject, including the most reliable of the 
Spanish, agree that if they were not utterly exterminated by 
cruelty and oppression, very few of them were to be found on 
the Island twenty years after its subjugation. It seems that as 
many as were able to escape the condition of servitude in 
which they were held passea over to Yucatan, or Florida, in 
their canoes; large numbers committed suicide ; a consider- 
able proportion died from being forced to perform labor they 
were not used to ; while the smallpox and other diseases 
introduced amongst them by their conquerors killed off the 
remainder.* 

It would be foreign to our purpose now to take any par- 
ticular notice of the treatment which produced such melan- 
choly results ; all we have to do with is the simple fact 
that while in Mexico, Peru, Chile, and other South American 
States, the large majority of the population are the de- 
scendants of the aboriginal inhabitants, there are scarcely 
any such in Cuba, except very few who have come to the 
country from the adjacent islands, or from Yucatan, chiefly 
within the last quarter of a century. In short, there is so 
little of this element that it can hardly be said to exercise 
any appreciable influence on the social, moral, or political 
condition of the population as a whole ; the coolies exercise 
much more, and the negroes more than either. « 

• <• Quelque activity qa'on reuille suppoaer aux causes de dimeiition/' 
flsys Humboldt, *' & la tyrannie dmamquutadoirttf i la denuson des gouvemaus, 
aux travaux trop p^uibles dans la lavage d'or, & la petite v^role et il lu fre- 
quence des Buiddes, 11 seroit difficile de conoeyoir comment, en 80 ou 40 ans, je 
06 diroifl pas un million, mais seulement trois ou quatre cent mille Indiena au- 
loient padiflparoitre eaihhemeni.' '-■-Euttijfnlitigueturl'iledeOiba, tome 1, p. 164. 



1866.] CUBA, ITS BESOURCrS AND DE8.1NT. 41 

Thus all the inhabitants of Cuba, sa^e the Africans, may 
be said to belong to the Spanish race ; that this is superior 
to the mixed races of Mexico, Peru, and Chile, it would be 
idle to deny ; all the intelligent writers of the latter coun- 
tries admit the fact. Here, then, is a satisfactory, undisput-* 
able answer to the question often asked in this country, 
** How is it that the Cubans are so different from the Mexi- 
cans or the Peruvians ? " The question is, indeed, a very 
natural one to those unacquainted with the facts, for no 
populations could be more different. While the Mexicans 
or Peruvians are almost constantly engaged in civil war, the 
Cubans are uniformly peaceable and orderly ; while the for- 
mer are acting the part of brigands, the latter are attending 
to their business ; accordinlgy while on one side we see poverty, 
wretchedness, and barbarism, on the other we behold wealth, 
enlightenment* and comfort* Let those who would dispute this 
bear in mind that the Spaniards at home are, and always have 
been, an orderly race ; not a race prone to insurrections and 
anarchy, although as ready as any people to resent oppression 
and rebel against the oppressor. If the Spaniards are not re- 
garded as a great people at the present day, either politically 
or intellectually, we are bound to remember that they once 
excelled all Europe in both characteristics. If, then, in addi- 
tion to the fact that the Cubans are really a Spanish race, and 
not a mongrel race, such as we find in the other countries men- 
tioned, we bear in mind that nearly all in authority in Cuba, 
from the highest to the lowest, are natives of old Spain or the 
descendants of Spaniards who are still living, we shall no 
longer wonder that they are so different from the Mexicans 
and from the inhabitants of all* the other Spanish American 
States. 

We can only realize the diffo-rence, however, as we pro- 
ceed in our examination; but we cannot extend this compar- 
ison. As Mexico and the other continental states mentioned are 
better known in this country than Cuba — ^the same as fight- 
ing, turbulent men are better known than their peaceable, 
industrious neighbors — it will be sufficient for us to glance 
at the chief cities of the Island, the works carried on at 
them, their commerce ; then turn to the plantations with 
the same view« bearing in mind, as we pass, the literary 
and scientific institutions of the country, and not forgetting 
the immense taxes levied on all kinds of industry, or the 
jealous care taken by the Spanish Government, that the 
mother country shall profit as much as possible, in one form 



43 CUBA, ITS BS80UBCB8 ABB DtsHKr. [December, 

or other, from every enterprise involviDg an outlay of money 
which is undertaken in Cuba. In passing these varions 
topics in review, and availing ourselves of the latest statis* 
tics and of the testimony of men who have had no interest 
to subserve in giving their opinions but that of truth, we 
shall be able to form a pretty accurate idea of the present 
condition of the Island, and at the same time we shall be 
able to make a pretty fair estimate of the interest which we 
ourselves, as a republican people, should take in its destiny. 
We shall thus see that Cuba is interesting to us, first as a 
rich and fertile country, yielding spontaneously a large 
proportion of the necessaries of lite, cariying on an exten- 
sive commerce with all parts of the world, and connected 
in its associations with events as well as names that have 
now become classic in spite of the blemishes which tarnish 
many of them ; and, secondly, as a country which may be 
possessed at no distant day by a power very different from 
Spain, or which may be possessea by ourselves without any 
compromise of our national honor. 

In an investigation of this kind the capital of the country 
naturally attracts attention at the outset. Although no city 
of its age has been oftener described than Havana there is 
no better general description of it than that given by Hum- 
boldt nearly forty years ago : 

*' The appearaace of Havana at the entrance of tlie port is one of the 
most lively and most piotnresqae that can be enjoyed on the shores of 
eqainozial America' to the* north of the equator. This sitnation, cele* 
brated by travellers of all nations, has not the lazariant vegetation that 
adorns the banks of the river of Guayaquil, nor the savage grandenr of 
the rocky coasts of Rio Janeiro, two ports of the southern hemisphere ; 
but the grace which in our dimates embellishes the scenes of cultivated 
nature is here mingled with the mi^esty of vegetable forms, and the or- 
sanio vigor that characterizes the torrid zone. In the blending of such 
delightful impressions, the European forgets the danger which threatens 
him in the bosom of the populous cities of the Antilles. He seeks to 
seize at one view the different portions of a vast landscape, to contem- 
plate the strong fortifications that crown the rocks to the east of the 
port, the internal basin surrounded by villages and farms, the palms 
that rise to an immense height, the city half concealed by a forest of 
masts and the sails of vessels. On entering the harbor of Havana you 
pass between the fortifications of the Morro {Gattillo de ht Santat 
lUyei) and the smaller fort of San, Salvador de la Funta. The opening 
is only from 170 to 200 toises in width, and it preserves this breadth 
about 8-5 of a mile. Issuing from this, after leaving to the north the 
beautiful castle of San Cartoidela Odbana^ and theiCkua Blanco^ we 
reach a basin in the form of the ace of clubs, of which the larger axis 
irom S. S. W. to N. K. £., is 2 1-6 milea long. This basin communicates 
with three heights, those of Regla, Guanavacoa, and Atai^s, at the last 
of which there are some springs of fresh water. The city of HavanSi 



1866.] CUBA, ITS RKSOUR0E8 AND DBSTINT. 48 

sorroanded hy walla, forms a promontory, bounded to tho south hy the 
mraenal, to the north hy the fortress La Punia, Beyond some sanken 
ships and the shoal of La Luz the depth of water decreases from eight 
or ton fathoms to five or six. The castles of Santo Domingo of AltariB 
and of San Carlos del Principe defend the city to the west ; they are 
separate from the inner wall, the one 660 and the other 1,240 toises. 
The intermediate space is occupied by the suburbs {ArrabaUB or Barrio§ 
extra muros) of Horeon^ of Jau$ Maria^ Guadalupe^ and Sellor de la Saiud^ 
which from year to year encroach on the Champ de Mars (Campo de 
Mdrte). The great buildings of Havana — ^the cathedra^ the palace of 
government, the house of the commandant of tho marine, the arsenal, the 
post-office, the manufactory of tobacco— are less remarkable for their 
beauty than for the solidity of their construction." 

Morro Castle has been enlarged and otherwise improved 
in strength since Humboldt wrote ; and the same is true of 
the Punta. Among the recent improvements to the former isa 
fixed light 144 feet high. These are the oldest fortresses in Ha- 
vana; but by far the strongest is La Cabana, situated a little to 
the south-east of the Morro; there are three other strong- 
holds to protect the city and harbor, each well garrisoned and 
mounted with heavy cannon. The harbor is sufficiently deep 
and spacious to receive one thousand vessels of the largest bur- 
den* A great advantage which it has, in a military point of 
view, is, that the channel leading to it, which is half a mile in 
length, can only be entered by one vessel at a time; and this 
has to pass a continuous barrier of fortifications, all of which, 
as well as the various fortresses mentioned, have to be over* 
powered before the city can be taken. Tho latter has been 
deemed so safe, protected by these various works, that the 
wall alluded to by Humboldt has been removed as super- 
fluous. 

Havana is a much finer capital than those who have not 
visited it would be likely to suppose. Its charitable institu- 
tions are certainly equal to any on this continent; and far from 
being behind the age in the provision which it made for 
education^ there is not one of our cities — not even the modern 
Athens— which excells it in that respect.* Boston, NewYork, 
Philadelphia, and one or two other American cities, have, in- 
deed better public schools than Havana. They afibrd better 
facilities for the education ^f the poor. But the higher educa- 
tional institutions of Havana are on an extensive and liberal 
scale. We must admit, on due examination, that we have 
no institutions that are equal to their free schools of design 

^ The principal are the CuSa, or Foundling Hospital ; the San Lanro, a 
hoeiHtal for persons affected with Koeubea—A kind of leprosy peculiar to the 
West Indies, and believed to be incurable ; the Casa Beal de Beneficia, which 
combiDes the advantages of an hospital, a lunatic asylum, and an infirmary. 



44 CUBA, ITS RESOURCES AND DESTINY. [Dcccmber, 

and painting or their free school of mathematics- Let those 
who would deny this remember that the professors in each 
of these schools have been selected for their superior qualifi- 
cations in different countries of Europe, a large proportion 
of them being Q-ermans, French, and Italians. If it still seems 
incredible that Havana has some educational institutions 
which are superior to those of Boston or New York, we 
would ask is the fact more incredible that the same city has 
a fine botanical garden, in which botany is taught in all its 
branches by professors who have graduated at the famous 
Jardin des Plantes in Paris and other similar schools, while 
we have no botanical garden worthy of the name. The capi- 
tal of Cuba has also a first-class University, one which may 
be compared to that of the city of New York, and which has 
separate chairs for jurisprudence, medicine, chemistry, the- 
ology, comparative anatomy, and agricultural botany. 

We are well aware of the different impression generally 
entertained in this country as to the state of education in 
Havana, although none have spoken in higher terms of its 
colleges and schools than intelligent Americans. In giving 
an account of a visit which he paid to the Belen, Mr. Richara 
Henry Dana, Jr., tells us that " it was first a Franciscan 
monastery, then a barrack, and now has been given by the 
Government to the Jesuits. The company of the Jesuits 
here is composed of a rector and about forty clerical and 
twenty lay brethren. Tliese perform every office, from the 
highest scientific investigations and instruction down to the 
IcTwest menial offices in the care of the children ; some serv- 
ing in costly vestments at the high altar, and others in coarse 
black garb at the gates. It is only three years since they 
established themselves in Havana, but in that time they have 
formed a school of two hundred boarders and one hundred 
day scholars, built up dormitories for the boarders and a 
common hall, &c."* After some further remarks to the same 
effect Mr. Dana adds : " I do not take this account from the 
Jesuits themselves, but from the regular clergy of other or- 
ders, and from Protestants who are opposed to them and their 
influence. All agree that they are at work with zeal and 
success." t 

80 well pleased was Mr. Dana with the good work thus 
done in Havana by the Jesuits that he was prompted to give 
quite a comprehensive sketch of the order. First mention- 

* To Cuba <md Back, A Vacation Voj/age, BoBton :.TickQor& Fields, 1859. f A 



1866.] ^CTJBAy TTS KRS0URCC8 AND DB8TINT. 45 

ing its humble, but zealous and pious founders, he proceeds 
to say that '' from this small beginning, spreading upwards 
and outwards, it overshadows the earth. Now at the top of 
success, it is supposed to control half Christendom. Now, 
his (Loyola's) oraer proscribed by State and Church alike, and 
suppressed by the Pope himself, there is not a spot of earth 
in Catholic Christendom where the Jesuit can place the sole 
of his foot. In this hour of distress he finds refuge in Rus- 
sia and in Protestant Prussia. There restored and tolerated 
the order revives here and there in Europe, with a fitful life ; 
and at length blazes out into a glory of missionary triumphs 
and martyrdoms in China and in North America ; and now, 
in these latter days, we see it advancing everywhere, to a 
new epoch of labor and influence. Thorough in education^ 
perfect in discipline^ obsolute in obedience^ as yielding^ as inde^ 
structible, as all-pervading t as water or as air ! " Such is the 
enthusiasm awakened ia a Protestant American in favor of the 
Jesuits on account of what he had seen in one of the colleges 
of Havana — one which had been opened only three years 
previously. 

Mr. Dana mentions elsewhere that ** education is substan- 
tially in the hands of the Government. As an instance," he 
adds, *' of their strictness no man can take a degree at the 
university unless he makes oath that he does not belong to, 
has never belonged to, and will not belong to, any society 
not known to and permitted by the Government."* These 
remarks are doubtless honestly made by way of showing 
how gloomy are the prospects of education in Cuba ; but 
we have shown in our last numberf that in the most enlight- 
ened countries of Europe similar restrictions are placed by 
government on graduates of the university. It will be ad- 
mitted that no country can boast nobler institutions than 
France, but a glance at the article alluded to will show that 
those who expect to graduate, or prepare themselves for any 
important office, must show that they have no disposition to 
rebel against the existing government, let it be monarchical 
or republican. If it be urged that general education is in a 
backward state in France, the same charge will hardly be 
made against Prussia, Wurtemberg, and Saxony, each of 
which is celebrated for the excellence of its public scnools ; 
it is not the less true, however, that there is not one of the 



o To Cuba and Bade, A Vaeahon Voyagu Boston : Ticknor & Fields, 1859. 
t Article "Our Colleges, Ac." 



46 CUBA, ns BRsouRCEs AND DKSTXSY. [').»c^mWr, 

colleges of those states — nay, not even one of their public 
schools — ^which is not as ** substantially in the hands of th * 
government," as any college, seminary, or school in Havana. 
The capital of Cuba is more suggestive of historical assor 
ciations than any other city in the New World, although 
there are several cities whic!i contain more of the dSbris of 
the ancient civilizations of this continent Among the pub- 
lic edifices which possess a classic interest are the cathedral 
in which the remains of Christopher Columbus were depos- 
ited in 1796, having been translated from St. Domingo for 
that purpose ; and the beautiful, though comparatively small* 
pyramid which Don Francisco Cagigal had erected in 1754, 
in' the place formerly occupied by the enormous ceiba (eria^ 
dendrum aufractuosum)^ beneath which Diego Velasquez had 
caused the firsc mass to be said. Beside this pyramid is a 
handsome chapel, which the city has gratefully dedicated to 
its founder. In our cities we have no such mementos as 
these ; nor have we any square equal to the Plaza de Armas 
of Havana, with its finely paved walks, its statues, fountains, 
flowers, &Cm and which is so well lighted and regulated that 
it is as pleasant and safe to walk there at certain hours at 
night as by day. In the same vicinity are the palaces of the 
Governor and the Intendant, together with the scarcely less 
princely residences of the nobility* ; the tout ensemble recall- 
ing to the mind of the traveller the most beautiful localities 
of some of the leading European capitals. In short, that 
Havana is no vulgar city is the almost unanimous testimony 
of the most competent judges, French, English, and Ameri- 
cans, as well as Spaniards. M. R. de la Sagra is one of the 
most recent authors who have visited the Island, and that 
emiment savant informs his readers that one finds at Havana 
all the luxury and urbanity of the European cities of the first 
rank.t 

o Speaking on this subject Hr. Dftna remftrks : " Tliere are several noblemen 
yrho have their estates and titles in Cuba, but are recognized as nobles of 
Spain ; in all, I should say, about fifty or sixty. Some of these hare receiyed 
their titles for civil and military services ; but most of them have been raised to 
their rank on account of their wealth, or have purchased their titles outright. 
I believe there are but two grades, the Marquis and the Count. Among the 
titles best known ta strangers are Vilianneva, Fernandina, and O'Reilly. The 
number of Irish families who have taken rank in the Spanish service and 
become connected with Cuba is rather remarkable. Besides O'Reilly, there are 
O'Donnel, 0*FarreI, and O'LawIor, descend mts of Irlshm<in who entered Vm 
Spanish service after the battle of the Boyne.— 7b Cuba and Back, pp. 190-1. 

f On trouve i la Havane tout le luxe et rurbonitfi des villes europ^ennes 
du premier ordre ; les hibitudes et les aisuic^ de la vie y sont les mSmes qa'k 
Gadix.— fluf. p^itgue, polUique d nviwrdU de Vile de Cfuba, p. 125. 



1S66.] 



CCBAy ITS RKSOUBCSa AMD DEBTINT. 



4T 



The most casaal observer would infer from the appear- 
ance of Havana, without knowing anything of its history 
or resources, that it is a wealthy city ; yet it can hardly be 
said to represent the wealth, of Cuba ; it certainly gives no 
exaggerated idea of that wealth even in those localities 
which are adorned by the most elegant and sumptuous edi« 
fices, public and private.* A glance at the exports of Cuba 
will fully sustain us in this opinion, especially if it be borne 
in mind that at least half of these are shippea from Havana. 
It would lead us too far to give tabular statistics for a series 
of years of the commerce of the Island ; we must confine 
ourselves to recent statistics, calling the attention of the 
reader to the fact that every succeeding year exhibits a large 
increase in the exports of Cuba. It appears from official 
reports that the value of the exports from the Island in 1851 
amounted to Sd 1,341 ,6S3. There has been a steady in- 
crease every year since ; so that one of the leading jour- 
nals of Havana estimates the exports for t865 as exceeding 
$40,000,000. An official synopsis of the receipts of the 
Treasury for two years exhibits the following results ; 



SoVBCfU. 


1866. 


1857. 


Inorxabi. 


CnstomB 


$9,789,524 12 
4,022,066 71 
1.829,107 87 


$10,495,858 87 
6,186,289 72 
1.681,410 12 


$767,834 25 


"Hixefi . . 


1.164.288 01 


Jj9ttery\ 


862,802 76 






Totiil 


$16,090,688 20 


$17,868,668 21 


$2,278,870 00 





Those most familiar with Cuban affairs are of opinion 
that the actual receipts were much larger in the years men- 
tioned than the^ are represented in this table ; but would 
not even these justify the most sanguine predictions of Co- 
lumbus and others as to the value of Cuba. Do they not 

* The piindpal stores in Hayana compare favorably with the similar 
edifices of the leading cities of Earope. Hr. Dana refers to some he visited as 
foUows: 

** Three mercliants whom I called upon have palaces for their business. The 
entrances are wide, the staircases almost as stately as that of Stafford House, 
the floors of marble, the panels of poroelidn tiles, the ndls of iron, and the 
rooms over twenty feet high, with open rafters, the doors and windows colos- 
sal, thefamlture rich and heavy ; and there sits the merchant or banlcer, in 
white pantaloons and tliin shoes^ and loose, white coat and narrow neclctie, 
smolcing a succession of dgars, surrounded by tropical luxuries and tropical 
defences. In the lower story of one of these buildings is an exposition of 
siliKSi cotton, and linens, In a room so large that it lool&ed Uke a part of the 
gieat exhibition in Hyde Vaxk."^Jb.^ p. 44. 



48 CUBA, IIS RiBsorBCBs AKD DESHKr. [December, 

show that when the Ahh6 Baynal prophesied that the Island 
would one day prore worth a kingdom by itself,* he did not 
in the least exaggerate its importance. 

There are but few of the kingdoms of Europe 
whose revenue equals that drawn from Cuba. This 
would be sufficiently evident if we had no other data 
from which we could deduce conclusions than those relating 
to the military establishment which Spain has to maintain on 
the Island. The regular army of Cuba is seldom less than 
25,000, but is often more than <30»000. Except a very small 
portion, this whole number consists of natives of Spain. 
There is, besides, an organized militia that numbers from 
3,500 to 4,000. No troops are better paid than these, for 
obvious reasons ; and even the members of the regular army 
have, in general to serve only three years. These advan- 
tages cause large numbers of Spaniards to emigrate to Cuba 
to join the army in the hope that in a few brief years they 
will be able to secure comfortable homes — a hope in which 
they are seldom disappointed, except it be their own fault. 
In addition to this land force there are rarely less than thirty 
Spanish vessels on active service in Cuban waters; these 
mount about 300 guns, and are manned by about 3,500 men. 
In view of these figures and facts it is not strange that the 
government complains that half the revenue of Cuba is ab- 
sorbed by its military establishment. Large as the acknowl- 
edged receipts are, half of thism would be insufficient for the 
support of the army and navy, for one as well as the other 
of the latter is much more expensive than the official reports 
pretend, if only on account of the extraordinary inducements 
held out to the officers to protect against all dangers ** la 
aicmprejielisla de Cuba.^^ 

The Spanish Government has an important object in mak- 
ing theexports from Cuba seem much less than they really are. 
She tells the Cubans that her expense is so enormous in pro- 
tecting them that she must necessarily lay a tax on everything 
which ought to yield any revenue, however slight; she tells 
them at the same time that, as Spaniards, or the descendants 
of Spaniards, they must naturally wish to trade with Spain 
as far as possible in preference to all other countries. Inas- 
much as both the army and navy is recruited from old Spain, 
as we have said, this favoritism renders the Government 
popular rather than otherwise among those whose good-will 

o *'C^bipjurra valoir d die mik tm rvymiiiie." 



1866.] CUBA, rrs resources awd DisnirT. 49 

it roost valaes. But let us see how thepriaciple is carried 
into practice ; ooe illuatratiou will be sumcieat, thea ex uno 
disceomnes. 

Nothing could be more arbitrary than the Spanish mode 
of levying taxes in Cuba. It favors Spaniards in every re- 
spect ; any goods imported from Spain under the national 
flag, in either Spanish or Cuban vessels, have but a nomirral 
tax levied upon them ; the tendency of this is sufficiently 
obvious ; it not only furnishes Spain a good market for her 
surplus products*-a market in which she has to encounter 
but little competition — it also gives her ships most of the 
carrying trade of the Island. Thus it is made the interest of 
the Cubans, whether they are patriotic, or otherwise, to im- 
port most of their breadstufis from Spain. They could 
import flour and other provisions much cheaper from Eng- 
land or France, not to mention the United States, than from 
Spain, were it not for the heavy taxes thus imposed on the 
products and tonnage of other countries. As it is more than 
two-thirds of their imports for the last five years have been 
brought under the Spanish flag ; previous to that period, since 
1829, the proportion averaged five-eighths. 

Aglance at the manner in which the duties are discriminated 
will place the facts in a clearer light. Thus, while the Cuban 
who imports his flour from Spain in a Spanish or Cuban vessel 
has only to pay $2.50 per barrel, the one who imports it from 
other countries, though in the same vessel, has to pay $8.50 
per barrel ; if both the vessel and flour are foreign, then he 
has to pay $9.50. We need not proceed any further in this 
direction in order to understand, in connection with the 
facts already stated, how it is that Spain renders Cuba use- 
ful to every class of her citizens, besides drawing from the 
Island so large a revenue. 

If the Cubans would more generally cultivate the soil 
these restrictions, which have now so important an influence, 
would not amount to much ; for be it remembered that no 
soil is more fertile than that of Cuba. It is estimated by 
the best judges that if one-eighth of the available land were 
cultivated, it would afford abundant support for the whole 
population. But it seems that, according to the official re-, 
ports for 1853, not more than one-nineteenth was under cul- 
tivatio n. 

Many infer from this that the Cubans are an indolent 
people ; but such is far from being the fact. They do not 
cultivate wheat or other articles necessary for home con- 
VOL. XIV, — NO. xxvii. 4 



50 CUBA, IT8 BX8OUR0ES AND DEBnKT. [December, 

Buinption, to any considerable extent, simply because they 
find it more profitable to cultivate sugar, coffee, and to- 
bacco.* 

Some of their sugar plantations yield 10,000 boxes 
of sugar, each box containing 400 lbs. ; and at present, 
there are not fewer than 1,200 of these ingenios as the sugar 
estates are called. The coffee plantations are also numerous 
and well cultivated. At the beginning of the present century 
there were but 60 in the whole Island ; now there are not fewer 
than 1,800. The cultivation of tobacco is on a scale almost 
equally immense, if we take into account the manufacture of 
cigars for every country of Europe and North America. 

These three articles constitute the chief source of their 
wealth. That no people live better or use more luxuries is 
8u£Sciently evident from their imports. The latest official 
report of imports now within our reach is that of 1849. It 
shows that during this year the beef and pork imported 
amounted to nearly $2,000,000; the flour and grain to 
$4,160,140; other provisions, $1,968,380; linen manufac- 
tures, $2,940,980; wines and liquors, $2,732,360. The 
amount of each of these at the present day is much larger 
than it was in 1849. It is estimated that the annual con- 
sumption of winQp, liquors, &c., by the wealthy classes 
amounts, in round numbers, to 18,000,000 of francs; that 
the amount of imported butter and cheese consumed amounts 
to 2,000,000 francs, &c.t 



* *' It is certainly true/' says Mr. Dana, ** that there is such a thing as in- 
dustry in the tropics. The lahor of the tropics goes on. NotwithstaDcUiig all 
we hear and know of the enervating influence of the climate, the white man, 
if not laborious himself, is the cause that labor is in others. With all its social 
and political discouragements, with the disadvantagements of a duty of about 
twenty-five per cent, on its sugars hud in the United States, and a duty of full 
one hundred per cent, on all flour imported from the United States, and after 
paying heavier taxes than any people on earth pay at this moment, and yield- 
ing a revenue which nets, after every deduction and discoimt, not less than 
sixteen millions a year-Higainst all these disadvantages this island is still very 
productive and very rich."— p. 169. 

In another part of his book the same traveller remarks : 
^'Thatwhidihasbeen to me, persoually, most unexpected, is the indus- 
try of the Island. It seems to me that, allowing for the heat of noon and the 
debilitating effects of the climate, the industry in agriculture and trade is rather 
striking. The sugar crop is enormous. The annual exportation is about 
400,000 tons, or about 2,000,000 boxes, and the amount consumed on the 
island is very great, not only in coffee and daily cooking, but in the making of 
preserves and sweetmeats, which are a considerable part of the food of the 
jieople. There is also about half a million hogsheads of molasses exported 
annuaUy. Add to this the ccfiiee, tobacco, and copper, and a general notion 
maybe f^i qfth€ induttty and produetiona qfthe Idand"—Ta Cuba and Baek^ p. 268. 
f Hist phys., pol. et natu^lle de Tile de Cuba. 



1866.] CUBA, ITS RESOURCES AND DESHNT. 5( 

If we consider Cuba merely as a place of residence, 
whether temporary or permanent, we shall find that, alto- 
gether independently of its material wealth, it will compare 
favorably with any other country in the world. Pernaps 
nowhere else does nature exhibit so large a variety of attrac- 
tions combined with so little that is noxious. The botanist, 
the geologist, the natural historian,* and the curious, pleas- 
ure-seeking man of the world may go hand-in* hand in Cuba, 
and with the exception that the wild animals, which are not 
useful, but otherwise are scarce, all will be equally pleased 
and interested. There is no traveller who has given his impres- 
sions of the Island who does not bear testimony to this fact. 
Let us turn to any natural feature we may, and we are sure 
to find ourselves justified in this statement. Nor need we 
always seek what is useful in order to be thus agreeably 
affected. Thus, for example, scarcely anything is of less use 
than the cotton-tree of Cuba ; at the same time scarcely any 
tree is more beautiful. And the more we examine the latter 
the better we like it — at least the more we are interested 
with it. If we are at all observant and thoughtful we do not 
part it without learning a useful lesson ; for it teaches us that 
we ought not to be so selfish a^ to think that, because a thing 
is not useful to ourselves, so far as we can see, nature has pro- 
duced it in vain. No one has described this tree better than 
the late Rev. Dr. Abiel Abbot, of Massachuseetts : 

''As yon approach this plantation (La Oaroliaa, in the neighborhood of 
Hatanzas) 70Q discover one of the most beaatifal and grand objects that 
exuberant nature produces in this favored region — ^a cotton tree. It U not 
rare ; almost every estate reserves one or more of these trees in some 
favorable situation to gratify the eye ; for it answers no other human pur- 
pose. It is neither timber nor fuel. The cotton, however, J should not 
forget, which it yields in a very scanty crop, is sometiaies used to stuff a 
pillow. One on the Santa Anna estate towers a hundred feet towards 
heaven, sixty -five of which, ascertained by admeasurement, are a smooth 
cylinder, without a limb or knot; twenty- seven and a half feet in circum- 
ference, six feet from the ground ; and near the base, where it spreads 

* Says M. K. de la Sa^aa : " Une temperature (Qev^, mod^r^e eependant par 
une Evaporation considerable, qui verse dans Tatmosph^re un torrent continuel 
de vapeurs aqueuses, pr^sente les conditions les plus heureuses pour le d^vel- 
oppement de la Tdg^tation, qui, de son c6tE, oontribue )i entretenir T humidity 
de Fair, base de sa vigoureuse existence. Auasi r6su]te-t-il que durant toiite 
Tann^ la verdure couvre les champs et les fordts ; mais le commencement de 
Y4i€ on de lasaison dee pluies semble dtre le moment oil la nature tout enti^m 
se transforme en fleun. Une temperature qui k Tair libre est constamment 
entre 24 et 40-degre8, une humidity atmospfaerique qui n'est pas moindre de 85 
degr^s de Thygromitre, et qui fr^quemment atteint le maximum, acc^Iftrent 
rasoension de la s^ve et facUitent I'absorption et la d^veloppement des plantes 
d' une mani^xe extraordinaire."— ^Mtotrs phytique, poUtique, et naiurelUde VtU 
de Cuba. 



52 CUBA, ITS REdOTTRCEs AJXD DBsnNT. [December, 

itself in the direction of its principal roots, like a giant bracing 
himself against the tempest, the fluted trnnk has been measnred 
forty-six &et and a half. Were there nothing to be seen bnt this noble 
trunk, with its white, smooth sarface, it would excite admiration. Bat 
at the height already mentioned it stretches forth its arms of a 
size, for timber horizontally and symmetrically, and forms a top for 
width and ^andenr worthy of the trunk below. It has been measured 
and found to cover a diameter of one hundred and sixty feet. 
This immense tree is a world by itself, and is peopled by its millions. 
The wild pineapple colonizes its top. Bajuca, or vines, vegetate on its 
extended limbs and run downwards to the earth, coiling like ropes on 
the ground, which the thirsty traveller, when water fails him in this land 
of rare springs, cuts, and the sweet milky juice, proves to him a delightful 
beverage. These vines, very possibly, answer another pnrpose of IS&ture, 
who regards with tenderness her humblest offspring. The mice and rats, 
and opossum, who might find it difficult to ascend the plain surface of the 
trunk, may easily ascend these natural shrouds, and drink out of the 
cups of the pines, which stretch their leaves to catch and concentrate the 
rains and dews in those natural reservoirs. I said this tree was peopled 
by its millions. This is quite within bounds ; you may see among its 
branches the commonwealths of the comajen, or wood-louse. They are 
not peculiar to this tree. Their large, black cities are attached to the 
body of some limb, or safely repose in some part of the tree, where they 
are a Chinese population, innumerable. This insect, about the size of a 
flea, forms a covered way of a mortar of its own down the trunk to the 
ground ; and as they have different public roads, it is probable that some 
are for ascending and others for descending, so that the travellers may 
not incommode each other. This insect is harmless, and their populous ' 
nests are carried whole to the poultry yard, where I have seen hundreds, 
young and old, enjoying the rei>ast with all the glee of turkeys in grass- 
hopper time.'' — Letter$ written in the Interior of Cuba^ <te.^ pp. 10-12. 

From the same traveller we have a description of another 
insect which is supposed to be peculiar to Cuba, but which 
is very different from the inhabitants of the cotton-tree. It 
is a species of ant called the bibiagua, not more than half the 
size of our black ant, but from no other living thing does the 
Cuban planter experience more annoyance or injury. 
" These little animals, perfectly insignificant, considered indi- 
vidually," says Dr. Abbot, *^ are powerful and formidable 
in their congregated or social strength. On the Santa Anna 
estate I witnessed the attempt to disinter and exterminate a 
tribe of these enemies. Near the house was planted a hedge 
of campeachy — ^it is young and flourishing. One morning 
Mr. S. discovered signs of a nocturnal incursion. Leaves 
were dropping across the path, and the busy laborers had 
stripped the campeachy hedge of every leaf for an extent of 
ten or twelve feet. The retreating enemies were traced by 
their path some rods on the surface to their entrance into a 
covered way. Here commenced the digging, and their 
passage or arched way was followed to the depth of some- 
times two feet, and sometimes one, until it terminated in a 



1866.] CUBA, ITS BKS0URCE8 AND DBBTIinr. 63 

spacious city. This was a collection of cells in which were 
deposited masses of eggs and astonishing numbers of the 
common bibiaguas, with a sprinkling of propably queen or 
mother ants, as we judged them to be from their royal size, 
with wings an inch and a half long. They were 
here in no small confusion, as a stout negro had 
plunged into the very heart of their citadel, and, disregarding 
their bite, was transferring them, with hand and shovel, to 
the blazing fire near by, and sometimes kindling hut^ks 
or quick flames to destroy them in their cells. 
We should, by stopping here, have but a limited view of this 
ingenious and populous nation. Its metes and bounds, its 
geographical Umita, it is difficult to ascertain with accuracy, 
ais they are subterranean in their highways, and in a great 
measure in their dwellings. Several cities and villages have 
been discovered, and the subterranean passages connecting 
them in one commonwealth. I should think that from the 
entrance into the ground to which the marauders of the cam- 
peachy were traced, to the last town as yet discovered, may 
be twenty or thirty rods ; and who can tell where we are to 
ook for their metropolis or frontiers?"* 

Although the Cubans are heavily taxed, as we have seen — 
more heavily than perhaps any other people — yet we cannot 
agree with those who denounce Spain as an oppressor in the case 
of Cuba. There is no. evidence that she is anything 
of the kind. She is sometimes compared to England, but 
the Cubans are very different from the Irish and the Hindoos. 
The poorerare in no danger of starving for want of the common 
necessaries of life like the latter. Instead of being the most 
wretched people on earth, there are none more comfortable 
than the Cubans — nay, there are none more wealthv ; they 
are much more wealthy, as a people, than the Spaniards at 
home. Many Cuban planters have more wealth and more 
princely residences than the cabinet ministers of her Spanish 
Majesty. 

The Cubans in general have intelligence enough to un- 
derstand this ; accor^lingly they are no revolutionists ; they 
attend to their private business and leave politics to the 
government. Indeed, they cannot be induced to do other- 
wise. If they are talked to about self-government, they 
point to Mexico and other South American states, whose 
chief business it seems to be to fight among themselves. 

« Ibid, pp. 10-12. 



54 CUBA, ITS RESOURCES AND DESTiNT. [December, 

When questioned by Americans as to the indifference they 
evince in regard to politics, they ask in tarn how much do 
we gain morally or politically by exciting ourselves at elec- 
tions and choosing as representatives men whom we our- 
selves confess to be ashamed of in a very short time. '* Sup- 
posing," they say, " we excited ourselves in a similar man- 
tier, and, unlike you, were successful in electing reliable men 
to represent us, is it by auy means clear that they would im- 
prove our condition ? Would they afford us better protec- 
tion for life and property than we enjoy now? Would they 
give us richer lands, better crops of sugar, coffee, or tobacco, 
than we generally realize at present ? " 

This is undoubtedly the sort of logic used by the more in- 
telligent class of Cubans, alth6ugh comparatively few in this 
country will admit it. As already observed, the general impres- 
sion is, not only that the Cubans are a down-trodden people, 
but that they regard themselves as such.. No opinion, how- 
ever, could be more erroneous. Nor is it diflSicult to prove 
the fact. The Cubans themselves have given us evidence of 
it in many forms, and in every instance in which tjieir real 
feelings have been put to the test. 

Be it remembered that there is not one of the South 
American republics which has not offered to aid the Cubans 
in establishing their independence ; but in no instance have 
the latter accepted their services.- They have answered them 
in substance as follows : ** If your condition as citizens of a 
republic is better than ours as subjects of a monarchy, we 
congratulate you ; but we feel tglerably comfortable, too — 
in fact, so comfortable that we do not care forany change just 
now." 

This, also, we are aware, may seem incredible; but have the 
Cubans made us any more satisfactory answer ? That a 
few have does not alter the fact. There never was a peo- 
ple yet but some of them were discontented and anxious for 
a chsyige. Need we say that disappointment makes many 
so, even in republics ? We need not go to any " down- 
trodden " country to seek persons who would excite an insur- 
rection and produce a revolution if they could, for no better 
reason than that their own superior qualifications for import- 
ant offices have not been appreciated by the existing gov- 
ernment. Neither Spaniards nor Cubans are exempt from 
this weakness. Ocasionally they appear in this country as 
patriots and lovers of self-government, and tell us, not only 
that the Cubans are laboring under the most grievous op- 



1B66.] CUBA, ITS RBSOURCBS AND DBSHNT. 55 

J>re88ion, but that they are ready, almost to a man, to strike 
or freedom ; that if there be any exceptions they are to be 
found only among the pampered minions of the foreign go vern- 
ment. These, it will be remembered, were the representations 
made by Narcisso Lopez. Unhappily many Americans be- 
lieved him ; but what was the result ? Two attempts were 
made to revolutionize the Island ; one in May, 1S50, and the 
other in August, 1851 ; but both utterly failed. 

Of the 450 men whom Lopez induced to accompany him 
from the United States, and who landed on the Island, there 
was scarcely one who was not either killed in fight or taken 
prisoner; and even of those captured 50 were shot, and 
finally Lopez himself was garotted. Not one of the mis- 
guided men who suffered in this way could pretend that the 
Cubans evinced the least sympathy for their '* liberators." 
Even the slaves have little disposition to rebel against the 
power of Spain, for they know that her laws are always 
favorable to their emancipation, and afford them protection 
from cruelty. As for the free negroes of Cuba, the native 
Spaniards in the Island are scarcely more loyal to Spain, be- 
cause they understand that they owe their freedom to her. 
All unprejudiced men who have visited the Island bear tes- 
timony to these facts ; in short, it must be admitted that 
whatever faults Spain may have besides-i-however guilty she 
may be of having encouraged the slave trade, even after she 
had pledged herself to suppress it as far as it was in her 
power to do sO-«-she, of all the slave-holding nations, has 
been most humane in her treatment of the slaves.* 

Nor can a different report be given of the Cuban slave- 
holders in general without doing them injustice. In address- 
ing the home government, from time to time, on the subject 
of slavery, the municipality of Havana has often made sug- 
gestions and observations which would have done no dis- 
credit to those who have distinguished themselves most as 
abolitionists. So early as 1811, when it was deemed almost 
a crime in this country to advocate the abolition of the 
'* peculiar institution,*' Cuban slaveholders did not shrink 
from giving expression to such sentiments. Humboldt was 
so well pleased with one of their addresses that he gave a 

* Dans aacane partie da monde oil rdgne resdavage, les affranchiaae- 
mens ne sont auasi fr^quenB qoe dans Tile de Cuba. La l^slation espa- 
gnole, loin de les empecher on de les lendre on^ieox, comme font les I6saala^ 
tions angloises et fian^oises, fayorisent laliberU.— .fi^iMu poiUique iur fiU de 
Cuba, Par M. Humboldt. yoLi,p.l40. 



56 CUBA, ITS BE8OUR0B8 AND DKsnNT. [December, 

long extract from it. The following passage from the same 
will show that he was right : 

** In all that relates to changes to be introduced into the condition of 
the servile class oar fears are leu excited a» to the diminution of agricul- 
tural wealth than for the safety of the whites, so easily compromised by 
impmdent measures. Those who elsewhere accuse the Municipality and 
Oonsulado of an obstinate resistance forget that from the year 1799 these 
same authorities have in vain proposed that tlie state of the blacks in the 
Island should be taken into consideration. Btill more : we are far from 
adopting maxims which the nations of Europe that pride themselvee mott 
in their eivilization have regarded as irrefragable; for instance, that 
without slaves there can be lo colonies. We declare, on the contrary, 
that without slaves, and even without blacks, colonies can exist; and 
that all the difference would be in the amount of profit, in the more or 
less rapid increase of produce. But if such be our firm persuasion, we 
ought also to remind your Mi^esty that a social organization into which 
slavery has been once introduced as a constituent, cannot he changed with 
inecneiderate precipitation. We are far from denying that it was an evil 
contrary to moral principles to drag slaves from one continent to another; 
that it was an error in politics not to listen to the complaints which 
Oband, the Governor of Ilispauiola, made against the introduction of 
so many slaves among a small number of freemen ; but, since these evils 
and these abuses are already inveterate, we ought to avoid rendering our 
eituation and that of our slaves worse by the employment of violent 
measures. That which we ask, Sire, is conformable to the wish expressed 
by one of the most ardent protectors of the righu of humanity, by the 
4nost decided enemy of slavery ; we wish, with him, that civil latoe Jwuld 
Aeliu^ UB at oneejrom the ahueee and the dangere.^^ — Vol. i., p. 829-381. 

Nor is a difiereht spirit evinced at the present day ; the 
>«anQe leniency is still manifested towards the blacks, and it is 
j)roducing its fruits so rapidly that if slavery could be said 
»to have redeeming features anywhere, or if slaves could be 
;said to have any justice done them, Cuba could be pointed to 
^as the place am)rding the best illustration of the fact. None 
jnore readily admit this than Americans, except such as 
ihave^ leaning towards slavery themselves, and are therefore 
unwilling to make invidious comparisons. Mr. Dana has no 
scruple of this kind, and he gives his testimony as follows : 

" The laws also directly favor emancipation. Every slave has a right 
to go to a magistrate and have himself valued, and on paying the valua- 
tion to receive his free papers. The valuation is made by three assessors 
.of whom the master nominates one and the magistrate the other two* 
Tlie slave is not obliged to pay the entire valuation at once ; but may 
,pay it by instalments of not less than fifty dollars each. These payments 
are not made as mere advances of money on the security of the master's 
receipt, but are part purchases. Each payment makes the slave an owner 
of such a portion of himself^ pro parte iiuiivieS^ or, as the common law 
would say, in tenanoy-in-common, with his master. If the valuation be 
one thousand dollars and he pays one hundred dollars, he is owned one- 
.tenth by himself and nine-tenths by his master".— /5., p. 246. 



1866.] CUBA, ITB RCBOURCSa AND DESHNT. St 

Another charge urged against Spain by those who are 
anxious to '^ liberate " Cuba is that she allows too much 
power to the Catholic Church, and that in turn the priests 
make the people submissive by fostering superstition and 
bigotry, inculcating hati*ed of Protestantism and Protestant 
government, &c. For certain reasons nothing is more read- 
ily believed among us than this ; two-thirds of our people 
say it must be so ; Spain is the country of the Inquisition, 
and how could she be otherwise than intolerant and bigoted, 
as well as tyrannical ? But it is not necessary to adduce the 
testimony of any Catholic in order to show that the church has 
not too much power in Cuba ; that, in fact, it has no power at 
all, and that the Catholic priests of Cuba interfere far less in 
politics than the Protestant priests of the United States. 
Enlightened Protestants from all parts of Europe and Amer- 
ica who have visited the Island, not to please any political 
faction or fanatical sect, but to ascertain and proclaim the 
truth, have called particular attention to the fact that far 
from being a pampered hierarchy who try to keep the people 
in ignorance, the Cuban priestff are in general poorer than 
, those of any other country, and that if they keep the people 
in ignorance it is by performing the duties of instructors in 
every grade of teaching, from that of the most learned uni- 
versity professor -down to that of the parochial schoolmaster 
who teaches the children of the poorer class the rudiments of 
education. Preferring to adduce American testimony, 
especially on this subject, we quote again from Mr. Dana: 

*'But the property of the Church has been sequestrated and coufisoated, 
and the Government now owns all the property once ecclesiastical, in- 
clndiDg the church edifices, and appoints all the clergy, from the bishop 
to the humblest country curate. All are salaried officers. And so power- 
less ia the Church that however scandalous may be the life of a parish 
priest, the bishop cannot remove him. lie can only institute proceedinga 
against him before a tribunal over which the Government has large con« 
trol, with a certainty of long delays and entire uncertainty as to the re- 
sult. The bishopric of Havana was formerly one of the wealthiest sees 
in Christenaom. Now the salary is hardly sufficient to meet the demands 
which custom makes in respect of charity, hospitality, and style of liv- 
ing. It may be said, I think with truth, that the Roman Catholic Church 
has DOW neither civil nor political power in Cuba.''— pp. 287, 288. 

We need hardly observe that their influence is not the 
worse for this, but the better. It is generally admitted by all 
l^ut bigots that no people are less vicious Chan the Cubans; 
they are certainly as little prone to vice as most of our Pro- 
testant Anglo-Saxon communities. Mr. Dana is rather cau- 
tious in speaking on this subject ; he seems as if a little afraid 



5S CUBA, ITS BSsouBCES AND DBBTiNT. [December, 

of displeasing a certain class of his New England readers. Still 
his report is in favor of the priests, although in this instance 
he rather makes an admission than a fearless statement. 
" Of the moral habits of the clergy," he says, " as well as 
of thepeoplei at the present time, I am unable to judge. I 
saw very Iktle that indicated the existence of any vices whatever 
among the people. Five minutes of a street view of London by 
night, exhibits more vice^ to the casual observer, than all Ha- 
vana for a year."* When the people of any country exhibit 
no vices it is but fair to infer that their clergy have done 
their duty ; at least we are bound to infer that the clergy 
are not vicious. But as the subject is an important one, 
and nothing is more unworthy than to malign a class of inof- 
fensive men who do the best they can, we will extract one 
passage more. This will show that if the Cubans were 
vicious the priests would have a right to claim that some 
allowance should be made for the anomalous position in 
which they are placed, at least in some instances, by the laws : 

'^ Aaother of the diffioalties the Oharoh has to contend with arises 
out of negro slavery. The Oharoh recognizes the unity of all races, and 
allows marriage between them. The civil law of Cuba, under the inter- 
pretations in force here, prohibits marriage between whites and persons 
who have any tinge of the black blood. In conseqnence of this rule, 
concubinage prevails, to a great extent, between whites and mulattoes or 
quadroons, often with recognition of the children. If either party to 
this arrangement comes nnder the influence of the Ohuroh's discipline, 
the relation must terminate. The Church would albw and advise mar- 
riage, but the law prohibits it*, and if there should be a separation, there 
may be no provision for the children. This state of things creates no 
small obstacle to the influence ot the Church over the domestic rela- 
tions."— p. 242. 

It will be seen from our remarks and the testimony we 
adduce in support of them that we do not speak of the des- 
tiny of Cuba on the ground that Spain has no right to the 
Island; that she is oppressive, or effete, as a power. 
We repeat that we recognize her right as long as she can 
maintain it, or as long as the Cubans are willing to submit 
to her rule. As to her being oppressive her own subjects 
are the best judges in that respect; and as long as they 
make no very serious complaint we are bound to believe that 
they do not suffer very much. But the worst of all would 
be to speculate on wresting her colony from Spain because 
she is effete, or may become so in a .short time ; this would 
be nothing better than to speculate on plundering an indivi- 
dual man as soon as he becomes so old and infirm as to be 

o Ibid, pp. 240, 241. ' 



1866.] CUBA, ITS RBSOUBOES AND DESTIKT. 59 

unable to protect himself any longer. If Spain be effete 
now, or may become so soon, she was once vigorous, power- 
ful, and great, surpassing in those qualities all other nations 
of her time. 

We speak, then, of her losing Cuba only as one of those 
possible or probable events which are legitimate subjects of 
discussion. While it would not be right to deprive Spain of 
hercolony because she is weak, it would be equally wrong 
to allow that colony to pass into other hands because Spain 
was once great and illustrious. We do not know how soon 
that contingency may occur. England and France are 
equally anxious to secure Cuba at any cost as soon as they 
have any decent pretext for doing so ; and it would be ten 
times more valuable to us, for certain reasons which we need 
not now mention, than it would be to either ; in short, it 
would be worth more to us than Mexico and Canada put to- 
gether, although to many of our readers this will seem a 
great exaggeration. 

But if Spain got her choice to-morrow which would she 
prefer? Nay, which would England prefer? Does any 
one believe that if the latter possessed Cuba she 
would say to the people, as she has said to the Canadians, 
"If you prefer self-government to my rule and protection, 
have it by all means ; know that I lose more by you than I 
gain." It would be entirely different in the case of Cuba. 
England knows from expenence how much safer and better 
is a fertile island than a large continental territory; she 
perfectly understands that she owes her own greatness more 
to her insular situation than to any other cause ; she knows 
that it was only this positiou which saved her from the 
legions of Napoleon, while his victorious troops occupied 
almost every capital in Europe. 

Now, let us remember that Cuba was not one-tenth as 
wealthy, nor was it supposed it was one-tenth as produc- 
tive, when England seized upon it without the least pretext 
but her cupidity, as it is now. Under all these circumstances 
it is but right that we should be familiar with the true 
character and resources of the island ; a generation; perhaps 
two or more, may yet elapse before it passes out of the hands of 
Spain, but the change may occur in half a generation, or in 
one decade. We need make no effort to hasten the crisis, 
but certain it is that we ought to be prepared for it. 



60 ROBEBT BOTLB : [December, 

Art. — III. The WorJrs of the Honorable Robert Boyle, la six vols. 
4 to. To which is prefixed The Life of the Author. New 
Edition. Gordon. 

2. History of the Royal Society. By Thomas Birch, M. A., F. 
R.S 

8. Funeral Sermon on the Death of Honorable Robert Boyle. By 
GiLLERT Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury. 

4. Histoire de la Chimie. Par M. Fred. Hoefer. Paris. 

Those who have described Fame as most capricious have 
not exaggerated the short-sightedness and ingratitude of man 
in that respect. It seldom happens that those who do the 
most good get most credit for it, either from their contempo- 
raries or from posterity. This is particularly true of those 
whose claims to distinction rest more on what they have dis- 
covered, or taught others to discover, than on their writings 
^or other productions. The author of a great poem, system 
of philosophy, or work of art, need not doubt but justice 
will be done him sooner or later. Thus it is that so caprice 
or jealousy could exclude Homer, Aristotle, and Phidias from 
the highest rank in their respective spheres. But it would 
have been otherwise bad they belonged to that class of 
thinkers who furnish ideas to others which they have not 
time to develop themselves, or for the appreciation of which 
the world is not yet prepared. When their suggestions have 
been acted upon — when the stately structures which they 
have planned, or whose foundations they have laid, have been 
built— they are too apt to be forgotten themselves. Nor 
can it be expected that the architects who have carried out 
their plans will take pains to remind us that they are indebted 
to others for their most important ideas, especially if they 
make improvements in certain details, and correct certain 
errors from which the most accurate theories are not ex- 
empt. If we wish to turn our attention to any science or 
system of philosophy we naturally select those works on the 
subject which embrace the largest number of facts and the 
largest amount of information. And in proportion as we 
pursue this course we lose sight of the original discoverers 
and founders. There are many of the latter character, and 
one of the most illustrious is Eobert Boyle, whose philosoph- 
ical researches, discoveries, and life will form the subject of 
the present paper. 

The history of the Boyle family affords one of the many 
proofs which may be adduced to show that instead of the 
English race degenerating by transplantation into Ireland it 



1866.] HIS INFLUENCE ON SCIENCE AND LIBERAL IDEAS. 61 

is most frequently improved, both mentally and physically. 
Not one of the old Boyles of England had ever distinguished 
himself until Richard went to Ireland towards the close of 
the sixteenth century (1588). He was the first to bring the 
name into notice; but the distinction which he attained, 
though honorable enough for the time and circumstances, 
was very different from that of several members of his pos- 
terity who were natives of Ireland and spent most of their 
lives in that country. The most illustrious of all was Robert, 
his youngest son, the subject of the present article, who was 
born at Lismore, in the county of Cork, January 25, 1626, 
and who, as a philosopher, has been ranked by all competent 
judges, at home and abroad, with Bacon and Newton. For 
the reasons already mentioned there are but few who are 
aware of whac Robert Boyle has done for the advancement of 
science. Chemistry, especially, is largely indebted to him, 
and the indebtedness is acknowledged with gratitude and 
admiration by those who have most honorably distinguished 
themselves in that field since his time. Nor can any intel- 
ligent lover of science reflect at the present day on the sug- 
gestions which he gave, and the predictions which he made 
when chemistry, as known to the modems, was in its infancy, 
without being actuated by similar sentiments in regard to 
him. This we shall see as we proceed. 

But let us first understand how the family was introduced 
into Ireland, what has been its leading object, what has it 
done for the country, and how much has it changed in its 
sentiments and feelings. Without any disposition to revive 
prejudices, either religious or ethnological, it is incumbent 
on us to say that, like most Englishmen of his time, Richard 
Boyle came into Ireland nbt to do the Irish any good ; but to 
give all the aid in his ^ower to oppress and persecute them. 
Nor had he any romantic views in aoing so ; he admits himself 
that his sole object was to make his fortune. He did his work 
well ; his treatment of the Irish was such as to satisfy even 
Elizabeth ; and he was rewarded accordingly with riches, titles, 
and honors. He occupies a prominent niche in British biog- 
raphy as *' the great Earl or Cork;*' although in the great 
' cyclopaedias and biographical works of contmental Europe 
his name is not mentioned except as the father or grandfather 
of the Boyles bom in that country whose people it was his 
boast to have done so much to crush.* It seems that when 

o Even in the NcmtlU Biogmhu OinertUe—ihe most complete work of the 
Und jet attempted-'there is no biogiaphy of Richaid ; although sketches are 
girea of Boger (Earl of Orrery), John, and Charles, as weU as of Bobert, the 
I^iUoaopher. 



62 ROBERT BOTLE : [DecembeFi 

Richard went to Ireland his whole wealth amounted to 
^27 38.; this is his own account ;* but those who knew his 
circumstances deny that he crossed the Channel with as 
much as ^10. 

This, however, would have been no discredit to him, but 
the contrary, had he acquired his subsequent wealth by fair 
means. It is not very clear what his occupation was when 
he first got employment from the government in Ireland ; 
his biographers prefer to speak of this in general terms, as 
follows : '' The business in which he was engaged afforded 
opportunities of acquiring a comprehensive and accurate 
knowledge of the kingdom and of the state of public afiairs, 
which he did not neglect duly to improve."f Some have 
alleged that the '* business" thus alluded to was not very 
honorable ; but that it was highly profitable we have suffi- 
cient evidence. We are told by his admirers that soon after« 
** by several advantageous purchases at a time when land 
was of precarious tenure and consequently cheapf he laid the 
foundation of his future ample estate/' In a^ddition to the 
lands thus acquired, Mr. Boyle purchased for a nominal price 
the whole Irish estate of Sir Walter Raleigh, consisting of 
not less than 12,000 acres, in the counties of Cork and 
Waterford. To Boyle this by itself was a source of wealth 
even then, whereas Raleigh was too generous to avail him- 
self of profits obtained under such circumstances. In a short 
time after his new purchase Mr. Boyle is knighted by his 
patron, G. Carew, the Lord Deputy of Ireland ; the next 
honor he receives is the office of Privy Counsellor for the 
province of Munster. He was not slow in proving himself 
worthy of these honors ; but how did he do so ? It seems 
that in all cases he first studied his own interest, and next 
that of England. 

•* With a view to both these objects," says his biographer, 
*• he took care to let his estates to English Protestants only, 
and to erect several towns and boroughs as well as some cas- 
tles for their security." Thus, he would not allow the Irish 
the privilege of purchasing their own lands, even though 
they were Protestants. He brought over from England, 
Scotland, and Wales, persons whose chief recommendations 
were that they hated the Irish very much and the religion of 
their own ancestors still more. He is liberally rewarded ac- 
cordingly ; for we are told that ^* his conduct was so much 

♦ Works of Robert Boyle, vol. i, p. vii. 
f Bee's Cyclop., vol. r, art. Bichard Boyle. 



1866.] HIS INFLUEKGB ON 8CISKCE AND LIBERAL IDEAS. 63 

approved that in 1612 he was promoted to the dignity of 
Pnvy Counsellor for the Kingdom of Ireland, and in 1616 to 
the rank of peerage by the title of Baron of Toughall, and 
in 1620 to that of Viscount Dungarvan and Earl of Cork."* 
But it was not alone by fostering the enemies of Ireland on 
her own soil, with her own money and resources, that Mr. 
Boyle, of Herlordshire, thus became the Great Earl of C^k. 
One of his warmest admirers tells us that ^'in the exercise 
of the powers with which he was invested he assiduously 
executed the rigorous laws of Queen Elizabeth against the 
Papists ; and far the mare effectital suppression of the popish religion 
and worship he shut vp several mass-honscs both in Dublin and in 
the country.^^* This, of course, was highly meritorious ; but 
let us hear his biographer a little farther. ^< He was also 
aotive," we are admiringly informed, '*in providing a regular 
and competent subsistence for the army, and in transplanting 
a multitude of barbarous Irish •* septs^*^ or clansy out of the fertile 
and well cultivated province of Leinster into the wilds and deserts 
of the county of jKcrry."t 

We need not give any more particulars to show how 
Bichard Boyle earned the distinction of *' the Great Earl of 
Cork " except to remark that the towns which he was instru- 
mental in building '' for the benefit of the English interest 
and the Protestant religion" were Lismoro, Iniskeen, Castle- 
town, Cloghiiakilty, and Bandon, each of which bears un- 
mistakable traces to the present day of the anti-Irish and in- 
tolerant spirit which actuated their founder. Even Sir Richard 
Cox, who has written a History of Ireland for the express 
purpose of showing how admirably that country has oeen 
governed by England, does not pretend to make Richard 
Boyle great on any other ground than that of his efficiency 
as a British instrument in the subjection of ^'the sister 
Island." •* The noble Earl of Cork, lord high treasurer," says 
that astute historian, ** was one of the most extraordinary 
persons either that or any other age hath produced with re- 
spect to the great and Just acquisitions of estate that he 
made, and the public works that he began and finished for 
the advancement of the English interest and the Protestant religion 
in Irelandj^* &c4 Thus, he was a great man because he took 
all he could from the Irish and gave them as little as he 
could, so that when Cromwell saw what he had done he de- 
clared, in a paroxysm of enthusiastic admiration, that ^' if there 

♦ lb., p. 9. fi^- cit- 

} Introduction to the second yolome of Coz'b Histoxy of Ireland. 



64 « ROBERT BorLE : [December, 

had been an Earl of Cork in every province it would have 
been impossible for the Irish to have raised a rebellion." 
The Earl himself has left the world his biography, a very 
curious, verbose, vainglorious document, which has been 
saved from oblivion only by the just fame of the philosopher 
in whose life it has been embodied. Some idea may be 
forqaed of its character by the first paragraph, which is as 
follows : *^ » 

" Sir Richard Boyle, knighted Earl of Oorke, his true remembrances : I, 
Sir Richard Boyle, knighted Lord Boyle, Baroa of Youghall, Viscount Dan- 
garvan, Earl of Oorke, Lord High Treasurer of Ireland, .one of his Majes- 
ty's honorable Privy Council, and one of the two Lords Justices for this 
government of this kingdom, do commend these true remembrances to 
posterity this 2dd day of June, anno Domini 1663, having lived in the 
kingdom of Ireland full forty-four years, and so long after as it shall 
please Almighty God." — WarJtt of Robert Boyle, vol. i., p. vii. 

The "true remembrances" are set forth in due course.' 
The editor of Boyle's works makes some comments at the con- 
clusion of the autobiography, commencing thus: "This noble 
earl continued in great prosperity till the breaking out of the 
rebellion in Ireland in 164i ; and the county of Corke was 
the last that suffered under the violence of the Papists, 
being the best inhabited with English of any part of that 
kingdom by the plantations made by his lordship, and was in 
a great measure preserved by his generosity and diligence."* 
Much pains as he had taken it would seem that he had not 
entirely succeeded in crushing the " Papists," or weakening 
them so much that they could manifest no resentment. This, 
however, is all we care to say about him ; and our motive 
in stating the above facts is simply to vindicate the truth of 
history ; because it is said of Robert Boyle, as of Swift, 
Sterne, Berkeley, Wellington, and others, that he was, in- 
deed, born in Ireland, but of English parentage, the obvious 
meaning of the phrase being that his native country has no 
claim upon him, as it was only by accident she produced 
him — an argument which would apply with equal force to 
Washington, who, had he not been a rebel, would have been 
claimed in a similar manner as soon as he had rendered him- 
self illustrious, and attained so high a rank among the bene- 
factors of mankind. 

Our object is not to depreciate the character of " the great 
Earl of Cork," or to represent him in an odious light ; we 
merely want to show that, far from degenerating, the princi- 

o Ibid, p. xi. 



1866.] BIB INFLUBNCB ON 8CICKCB XHfD UBERAL IDSAS. 65 

pal members of bis Irisb posterity have proved much better 
men, in every respect, than he. Without mentioning the 
philosopher at all, the earl's son, Roger, Earl of Orrery, was 
a much greater man than his father, although he was so 
much Irish — having been more at Lismore — that he refused to 
^eave the country to finish his education in England, and 
was accordingly educated in Dublin. He is therefore 
spoken of by the French bistorianSi not as an Englishman, 
but as '^ nn guerrier irlandais, frfere de Robert Boyle;'** not as 
the son of the great Earl of Cork, but as the brother of one 
who was no earl. Roger faithfully served Charles L to the 
last ; and when it failed him to save his life he lost no time 
in attempting to secure the throne for Charles II. in opposi- 
tion to the Parliament. Even Cromwell respected him for 
his fidelity as much as he esteemed him for his military tal- 
ents. He knew how valuable an adherent such a man would 
prove if he could only persuade him to espouse bis cause. 
Accordingly, when it was found that he was preparing to 
leave the country, ostensibly to visit the Spaw for the good 
of his health, but really to apply to Charles IL for a com- 
mission to raise forces in Ireland for his restoration, the Pro- 
tector invited him to an interview, assuring him that he 
would incur no risk by meeting him. 

During this interview he was informed that the Com- 
mittee of State was quite aware of the object of his leaving 
the kingdom, and that they had determined to make an 
example of him had not Cromwell interposed to^ave him. 
To convince him of this the latter put some of his own 
letters into his hands. This impressed him so strongly in 
favor of Cromwell that he agreed at once to serve him faith- 
fully. He was told that no oaths nor engagements would be 
imposed upon him, but that he would get the command of 
a general ofiicer. He received the commission and proved 
as brave ad he was faithful. Cromwell liked him so well for 
the important services he had rendered his cause that as 
soon as he assumed the protectorate he made him his chief 
confidential counsellor. Even now he did not forget the 
exiled king, but tried to unite the two families by a marriage 
between Charles and Cromwell's daughter, Frances, and 
only failed because the lady was unwilling. The Irish 
rebels had no mercy to expect from him ; he was their un- 
compromising enemy as well as his father ; but he fought 

♦ Vide KoureUe Blog. G5n., tome rii, p. 193. 
VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVII. 5 



66 ROBERT BOTLE : [December, 

them fairly, like a soldier ; did not plunder and persecute 
them for their religion, like the *' Great Earl." He did so 
well in Ireland that he was offered a commission to goyern 
Scotland for one year; this be agreed to accept on condition 
that he could carry on the goyemment as he thought proper 
himself; and the result was that both the Scotch and Crom- 
well were satisfied with his administration. 

And how different was his conduct in all this from that 
of his father, " the Great Earl ! " But he is still more honor- 
ably distinguished from the latter. Richard Boyle of Her- 
fordshire was always ready to put powerful rebels out of the 
way in any way he could ; but Roger Boyle of Lismore, county 
of Cork, preferred to giye all a fair chance of yindicating them- 
selyes. A noble illustration of this is to be found in his success- 
ful opposition to the odious measure introduced by the Puritans 
to decimate the royal party by cutting off the head of eyery 
tenth man. Not only did he serye Cromwell faithfully until 
his death ; he also adhered with equal fidelity to his son, 
Richard, until the latter dissolyed Parliament, and thereby 
virtually surrendered the goyernment. As the Cromwell 
family had no longer any claim upon him, he now exercised 
his influence in favor of Charles U. ; and his Majesty was so 
much pleased with his general character, as well as his 
talents, that one of his first acts on ascending the throne was 
to advance him from the dignity of Lord Broghill to that of 
Earl of Orrery, at the same time appointing him one of the 
lords justices for Ireland. 

Another important feature in his character in which he 
differed jfrom his father and all his ancestors was his taste for 
the cultivation of literature. He published many works in 
prose and verse, including tragedy, comedy, and romance ;* 
if these are no longer read and but seldom alluded to, how 
many others who were popular authors in their time whose 
productions have fallen into obliyion in a similar manner ? 

We will allude to one other member of the Boyle family 
before we turn our exclusiye attention to our chief subject, 
the philosopher ; our object being to show that if the char- 
acter of Roger exhibits an improvement on that of his 
father, the foimer was in turn excelled, both intellectually 
and physically, by members of the family who were still more 
Irish thanhe. Thisistrue, forexample, of John Boyle, Earl of 
Cork and Orrery, only son of the fourth Earl of Orrery, whom 

* His drazuatlc works were published in 1742, in two octavo Yolomos, by 
his giandflOB, John, Earl of Cork and Orrery. 



1866.] HIS INFLUENCE ON. BCIBNCB AND UBERAL IDEAS. 67 

his English friends used to call ** Irish Jack '' in his youth. 
He was one of the intimate friends of Swift;, who esteemed 
him highly, and whose life he subsequently wrote under the 
title of " Remarks on the life and writings of Dr. Swift," a 
work which is still read for its numerous popular anecdotes, 
as well as for the intimate knowledge of its great subject which 
it displays. Another work of his which is still read is his 
" Transfation of the Letters of Pliny the Younger, with Ob- 
servations on each letter and an Essay on Pliny's Life, in 
two^ quarto volumes." In addition to these, his ** Dis- 
course on the Theatre of the Greeks," " The Parallel of the 
Theatres," and " The Original of Tragedy," are agreeably re- 
membered by scholars. At the time of his death he was en- 
gaged in writing a History of Tuscany, in the form of a series 
of letters, having spent more than two years at Florence col- 
lecting materials. He had only twelve letters written when 
he died ; these were published after his death, in 1744 ; and 
they are worthy the* attention of every student of Tuscan 
civilization. 

The "Great Earl" could have done none of these 
things ; but John excelled that personage in perhaps still 
more important affairs; while he was at least as good a 
Christian, he was far more tolerant of the Christianity of 
others ; at least he did not boast of *' shutting up mass-houses ;" 
nor of "transplanting a multitude of barbarous Irish septs 
or clans." Barbarous as the Irish were he learned amongst 
them that one may be a good Protestant and yet have no 
hatred to the Pope or his followers ; he learned also that one 
may be sufficiently loyal to his King without oppressing his 
poor fellow countrymen. These sentiments he has forcibly 
expressed himself in some verses annexed to his " Translation 
of Pliny": 

** With native freedom as with oonrage bleat, 
Chains and each mark of thraldom we detest 
^Tis Heaven's great gift, His nature's great decree, 
That none be navei tohom God himself made /ree. 
Revere we onght those powers wliich we entrust, 
But to otareehies be reeolutelp juetJ*^ 

Thus it is that the English degenerate bv transplantation 
into Ireland. Of course the earl who could give expression 
to sentiments like these, and at the same time suffer the 
priest and the mass-house to exist without hanging the one 
or demolishing the other, could not be regarded in those 
good old times as having any pretentions to greatness ; and 
accordingly John Boyle, Earl of Cork, is scarcely mentioned 



68 ROBERT BOTLB: [December. 

in British biography except as a very vulgar personage, 
while Richard Earl of Cork is held up even at the present 
day as a model of all that is great and commendable in an 
Irish landlord. 

But still more **degenerate," is Robert Boyle ; if not he is 
spoken of, not as having anything to do with Ireland, but as 
an English philosopher. No man could be more unlike an- 
other in his sentiments and feelings than this seventh son of 
Richard was unlike bis father ; and in nothing did he differ 
from him more than in the liberality of his views, especially 
in regard to those who differed with him in religion. We 
shall presently see that a more pious Christian has seldom, if 
ever, existed. He was a sincere and conscientious Protest- 
ant, but, far from hating the Catholics on this account, he 
was always in favor of allowing them full liberty. In speak- 
ing of his opposition to all severities and persecution on 
account of religious belief, Bishop Burnet says : *< I have 
seldom observed him to speak with more heat and indignatum 
than when that came in his way." Had it been otherwise, 
indeed he would have had but little claim to the title of a 

Shilosopher. But this is not the only sense in which Robert 
;oyle was liberal and cosmopolitan ; he was as free from arro- 
gance and aristocratic pride as he was from religious bigotry 
and intolerance. If he set any value on the rank and titles 
of his family, it was as a means of acquiring knowledge and 
advancing science ; but even when considering them in this 
point of view he took care not to excite prejudice 
against the humble and ignorant. '* A man of mean 
extraction," he says, <* is seldom admitted to the privacy 
and secrets of great ones promiscuously, and scarce dares 
pretend to it, for fear of being censured saucy or an in- 
truder ; and titular greatness is ever an impediment to the 
knowledge of many retired truths that cannot be obtained 
without familiarity with meaner persons and such other condescen-- 
siora as fond opinion in great men disapproves and makes dis- 
graceful." • 

This he wrote in his youth, but it is characterized with 
the wisdom of mature age. Robert Boyle was born the same 
year that Bacon died. This coincidence has often been 
referred to as remarkable from the fact that the most ardent 
desire of Boyle through life was to popularize the experi- 
mental philosophy '* by which alone," he was wont to say, 
''we can make the greatest progress in useful knowledge." 

^ «"Vorkg, p, xlll. 



1866.] BIS INFLUENCE ON 8CICNGB AND UBBRAL IDEAS. 69 

There is but little in his early life that claims par- 
ticular attention in an article whose extent is necessarily 
limited. It is sufficient to remark in general terms that 
his constitution when a boy became very feeble, and 
continued so to the end of his life. It was not so much 
80, however, as to prevent him from acquiring a large 
store of knowledge. There were few, if any, of his 
time more learned. In addition to his extensive scientific 
acquisitions he was acquainted with several languages, an- 
cient and modern. Oriental as well as European. From his 
childhood he had a veneration for learned men, and his purse 
was always open to those who needed his assistance. He loved 
learning for the power which it gave him over the secrets of 
nature ; at the same time no one took more pains to diffuse 
its benefits. Not only did he contribute largely to the estab- 
lishing of several libraries, but wherever he stayed he made it a 
point to bring as many learned men together as possible, so 
that by their united efforts they might make some addition, 
however slight, to the general stock of knowledge. Thus it 
was that he was instrumental in establishing the learned as- 
sociation which has since become so justly celebrated under 
the title of the Royal Society. Indeed the amount of service 
which he has done science altogether independently of his 
own writings would seem incredible were it not attested in a 
hundred forms ; for no one cared less for fame, or was more 
unwilling to give himself any prominence. All who had any 
intercourse with him bear testimony to his modesty ; the most 
impartial of his many biographers tell us that in proportion as 
he became celebrated throughout Europe he became more 
and more modest.* He not only declined the honors of the peer- 
age ; he also declined the office of President of the Royal So- 
ciety, which he was instrumental in establishing, whereas his 
great cotemporary and correspondent, Sir Isaac Kewton, was 
glad enough to accept the honor of knighthood and also the 
presidency of the Royal Society.t So much averse was Boyle 
to attracting any attention to his own efforts that when his 
friend Dr. Wallis prepared for publication an account of the 
principal members of the society, first known as the Invisible 
College, he caused him to alter it so that he might occupy a 

* Le nom de Boyle deyint bientot c^l^bie dans toute rEorope, et sa 
modestie a'aceroiasait avec be c616brite. II refasa les honneurs de la palrie ; 
U refasa mime le poete de president de la Soci^t^ Royale, que personne 
n'ltait plus digne que Ini croccuper.— ^<mD. Biog, Qhi., Tome yu» p. 191. 

t Bee Sprat's History of the Royal Society. 



to ROBBBT BOTLB : [December, 

more modest position in it. In its altered state the account 
stands as follows : 

'* About the year 1645, while I lived in LoadoDf I had the opporta- 
nity to be acqaainted with divers worthy persons, inqaisitive into natu- 
ral philosophy and other parts of human learning, and particularly of 
what hath been called the new or experimental philosophy. We did by 
agreement, divers of us, meet weekly on a certain day, to treat and dis- 
course of such affairs. Of which number were Dr. John Wilkins, after- 
wards bishon of Chester, Dr. Jonathan Goddard, Dr. George Ent, Dr. 
Glisson, Dr. Merrit, doctors in physio ; Mr. Samuel Foster, then professor 
of astronomy at Gresham college, Mr. Theodore Haak, a German of the 
Palatinate, and then resident in London, who, I think, gave the first 
occasion, and first suggested those meetings, and many others. These 
meetings were held sometimes at Dr. Goddard's lodging in Wood street (or 
some convenient place near), on occasion of his keeping an operator in his 
house, for grindinff glasses for telescopes and mioiroscopes; and sometimes 
at a convenient place in Cheapside ; sometimes at Gresham college, or 
some place near adjoining. Our business was (precluding matters of 
theology and state-affairs) to discourse and consider of philosophical in- 
quiries, and such as related thereunto, as physic, anatomy, geometry, 
astronomy, navigation, statics, magnetics, chemics, mechanics, and natu- 
ral experiments, with the state of these studies, as then cultiyated at 
home and abroad. About the year 164S, 1649, some of us being removed 
to Oxford, first Dr. Wilkins, then I, and soon after Dr. Goddard, oar 
company divided. Those in London continued to meet there, as before, 
and we with them, when we had occasion to be there. And those of us 
at Oxford, with Dr. Ward, since bishop of Salisbury, Dr. Ralph Bathurst, 
now president of Trinity college in Oxford, Dr. Petty, since Sir William 
Petty, Dr. Willis, then an eminent physician in Oxford, and divers others, 
continued such meetings in Oxford, and brought those studies into fash- 
ion there, meeting first at Dr. Petty's lodgings in an apothecary^a house, 
because of the convenience of inspecting drugs, and the like, as there was 
occasion ; and after this remove to Ireland (though not so cpnstantly) at 
the lodging of Dr. Wilkins, then warden of Wadham college; and after 
this removal to Trinity college in Cambridge, at the lodgings of the hon- 
ourable Mr. Robert Boyle, then resident for divers years in Oxford. 
These raeetines in London continued, and after the king^s return, in 1660, 
were increased with the accession of divers worthy and honourable per- 
sons^ and were afterwards incorporated by the name of the Royal Society, 
and to continue to this day." — BayWt Worka^ vol. L, p. 42. 

But let ns see what was the scientific standing of Robert 
Boyle, or what has he done for science, for very little is 
remembered at the present day on the subject. The truth 
is he has done so much that very few will be willing to 
believe the facts except those who have already more or less 
acquaintance with the subject. In order to justify this 
assertion we must remind the reader that he was the first 
among the moderns to deny the elementary character of 
earth, air, water, and fire ; the first to deny that there are 
but four elementary bodies; the first to show the difference 
between a chemical combination and a mixture of different 
substances ; and the first to prove the elasticity of the air. 



1866.] HIS INFLUEKCB ON 8CIEHCS AKD UBSRAL IDEAS. 71 

None but those who know what wooderfal discoveries have 
been made in chemistry since his time can appreciate this. 
They must at least be aware that whereas four elements were 
the most recognized in his time there are now upwards of 
sixty. There were two leading theories on the subject ; one 
was that of the Peripatetics and their disciples^ that there 
are but four ; the other that of the Alchemists who would 
accept only three, namely, mercury, sulphur, and salt. 
Those who did not accept one or the other of these were 
regarded as infidels, at least as persons who had no intelli- 
gence. Accordingly Boyle had to write like one who had 
sirong prejudices to contend against; he was anxious to 
remove error and make it give way to truth ; at the same 
time he wished to avoid giving offence, or putting himself 
forward as an innovator, although he advocated no im- 
portant view in any form until he had first subjected it to a 
series of careful experiments. There is a remarkable simi- 
larity between the style and mode of argument of his 
*' Sceptical Chymist " and the principal work of Galileo ;• 
there is, however, this important difference — that Boyle in- 
dulges in na sneers at any system of religion or its digni- 
taries. In a former article we have shown the spirit in 
which the great Florentine wrote ;t we will now glnnce at 
that in which Boyle wrote. One as well as the other puts 
his arguments in the form of a dialogue between two i'nag- 
inary persons. ** Give me leave to add on this occasion,'* 
says Eleutherus, " to what we now observed, that as confi- 
dently as some chemists and other modern innovators 
in philosophy are wont to object against the Peripatetics 
that from the mixture of these four elements there could 
arise but an inconsiderable variety of compound bodies^ yet if 
the Aristotelians were but half as well versed in the works ofnaXurt 
as they are in the writings of their master, the proposed- 
objection would not so calmly triumph."{ A page or two 
further on Coneades replies at length, adducing strong 
arguments against the old system, but without openly 
avowing his want of faith. 

^^ Bat before I enter any farther into thU dUquiaitioa, I oanaot bat 
her« take notice that it were to be wished oar chemists had olearljr 
informed as what kind of division of bodies bjr fire must determine the 
namber of the elements; for it is nothing near so easy as manjr seem to 

* Qoatnor IMalogl de daobos maximifl Mondi Systematibos. 

{National Quarterly Reyiew, vol vi, No^xxiv., azt. Galileo. 
WorkM, vol. i, p. 4(>7. 



72 ROBERT BOTLE : [December, 

think to determine distinctly the efeeU of heat^ as I conld easily mani- 
fest if I had leisnre to show them Aow much the operatioiu of fire may be 
diversified by Hreumetanees. But not wholly to pass by a matter of this 
importance, I will first take notice to yon, that guaiaoam, for instance, 
burnt with an open fire in a chimney, is sequestered into ashes and soot, 
whereas the same wood distilled in a retort does yield far other hetero- 
geneities (to, use the Helmontian expression), and m retohed into oil, 
epirit^ vinegar, toater^ and charcoal; the last of which, to be rednced into 
ashes, reqnires^ the being farther calcined than it can be in a close veeseL 
Besides, having kindled amber and held a clean silver spoon or some other 
concave and smooth vessel over the smoke of its flame, I observed the 
soot into which that fume condensed to be very different from anything 
that I had observed to proceed from the steam of amber purposely (for 
th{it is not usual) distilled per se in close vessels. Thus having, for 
trial^s sake, kindled campbire, and catched the smoke that copiously 
ascended out of the flame, it condensed into a black and unctuous soot, 
which would not have been guessed by the smell or other properties to 
have proceeded from camphor : whereas having (as I shall otherwhere 
more fully declare) exposed a quantity of that fugitive concrete to a gentla 
heat in a close glass vessel, it sublimed up without seeming to have lost 
anything of its whiteness, or Its nature; both which I retained, though 
afterwards I so increased the fire as to bring it to fusion. And, besides 
caniphire, there are divers other bodies that I elsewhere name, in which 
the heat in close vessels is not wont to make any separation of heterogenei- 
ties, but ooly a communication of parts, those that rise first being homoge- 
neal with the othera,though subdivided into smaller particles; whence sub- 
limations have been styled, the Peitles of the Chymists. But not here to 
mention what I elsewhere take notice of concerning common brimstone 
once or twice sublimed, that exposed to a moderate fire in subliming-pots,it 
rises all into dry and almost tasteless flowers ; whereas, being exposed to a 
naked fire it affords store of a saline andf retting liquor ; not to mention this, 
I say I will further observe to you that as it is considerable in the analysis 
of mixed bodies whether the fire act on them when they are exposed to 
thd open air or shut up in close vessels, so is the degree of fire by which 
the analysis is attempted of no small moment. For a mild balneum 
will sever unfermented blood, for instance, but into phlegm and caput 
mortuum, the latter whereof (which I have sometimes had), hard, brittle, 
and of divers colors, transparent almost like tortoise-shell, pressed by a 
good fire in a retort, yields a spirit, an oil or two, apd a volatile salt^ 
besides another caput mortuum. It may be also pertinent to our pres- 
ent design to take notice of what happens in the making and dis- 
tilling of soap ; for by one degree of fire the mlty the water^ atM the oil or 
grease whereof that factitious concrete it made up, being boiled up together, 
are easily brought to mingle and incorporate into one mass; but by 
another and further degree of heat the same mass may be again divided 
into an oleaginous and aqueous, a saline and an earthy part. And so we 
may observe that impure silver and lead being exposed together to a 
moderate fire will thereby be colliquated into one mass and mingle per 
minima, as they speak ; whereas a much vehementer fire will drive or 
carry off the baser metals (I mean the lead and the copper or other 
alloy) from the silver, though not, for aught appears, separate them from 
one another. Besides, when a vegetable abounding in fixed salt is 
analyzed by a naked fire, as one degree of heat will reduce it into ashes 
(as the chemists themselves teach as), so by only a further degree of fire 
thobe ashes may be vitrified and turned into glass. I will not stay to 
examine how far a mere chemist might on this occasion demand, if it be 



1866.] HIS INFLI7EN0B OK 8CISNCB AND LIBERAL IDEAS* tS 

lawful for an Aristotelian to make ashes (wbich he mistakes for mere 
earth) pau /or an element^ beoaase bj one degree of fire it may be pro- 
duced, whj a chemist maj Rot upon the like principle argne that glass is 
one of the elements of many bodies, because that also maj be obtained 
from them barely by fire. I will not, I say, lose time to examine this, 
but observe that by a method of applying the fire such familiar bodies 
may be obtained from a concrete as enemUU have not leen able to ieparate 
either by barely burning it in an open fire or by barely distilling it in 
dose vessels. For to me it seems very considerable, and I wonder thai 
men have taken so little notice of it, that I have not by any of the com- 
mon ways of distillation in close vessels seen any separation of such a 
volatile salt as is afforded us by wood when that is first by an open fire 
divided into ashes and soot, and that soot is afterwards placed in a strong 
retorti and compelled by an urgent fire to part ^joith itt epirit^ oil^ and 
ealt:'— Works, vol. 1, pp. 478-9. 

This extract, though longer than is convenient for our 
limited space, can give but a faint idea of the many sugges- 
tions made by Boyle in his '* Sceptical Chymist," which, 
when considered at the present day in view of the many 
discoveries made in chemistry since his time, must be re- 
garded as prophetic. His experiments on the chemical phe- 
nomena of the atmosphere are the most ancient known at 
the present day ; if he was Qot the first who studied those 
phenomena no one can say who had done so before him. 
Such views as he has given us on the subject would attract no 
attention at the present day, as they may be found with but 
little modification in almost any school-book the same as we 
find the orbits, sizes, rates of motion, &c., of the difiTerent 
planets of our system, which, with their satellites, were dis- 
covered by several astronomers. But Boyle*s mode of 
demonstrating the elasticity of the nir is interesting for the 
same reason that Kepler's mode of demonstrating the cor- 
rectness of his own great Laws is interesting. If many 
modern chemists illustrate the phenomena of the air more 
elegantly than Boyle has done, many astronomers have illus- 
trated Kepler's Laws more elegantly than himself. But 
what student that has a mind of his own or any respect for 
genius would not prefer the original, however defective it 
may be in style, especially when he is in no danger of being 
deceived by those defects ? J t is in this spirit that we give a 
brief extract or two from Boyle's illustrations ; that is, w^ 
give them because they are curious ; at the same time it is 
but fair to remind the reader that as they are but fragments 
taken almost at random, here and there, from the philoso- 
pher's accounts of his experiments, they cannot be regarded 
as doing justice to the author. After some general remarks, 
in a letter to his brother, descriptive of the air-pump, by 



14 BOBEBT BOTLB : [December, 

means of which the experiments were made, the philosopher 
proceeds to say : 

*' Yonr lordship will easily suppose that the notion I speak of is, that 
there is a spring or elastioal power in the air we live in ; by which 
l?MTif'p^ or spring of the air, that which I mean is this : that onr air either 
consists o^ or at least abounds with, parts of sach a nature that in case 
they are bent or compressed by the weight of the incnmbent part of the 
atmosphere, or by any other body, they do endeavor, as much as in them 
lieth, to free themselves from that pressure by bearing against the con- 
tigoous bodies that keep them bent ; and &s soon as those bodies are 
removed or reduced to give them way, by presently unbending and 
stretching out themselves, either quite or so far forth as the contiguous 
bodies that resist them will permit, and thereby expanding the whole 
parcel of air these elastioal bodies compose. 

This notion may perhaps be somewhat further explained by conceiving 
the air near the earth to be such a heap of little bodies, lying one upon 
another, as may be resembled to a fleece of wool. For this (to omit other 
likenesses betwixt them) consists of many slender and flexible hairs, each . 
of which may indeed, like a little spring, be easily bent or rolled up, but 
will also, like a spring, be still endeavoring to stretch itself out again ; 
for though both these hairs and the aSreal corpuscles to which we liken 
them do easily yield to external pressures, yet each of them (by virtue 
of its structure) is endowed with a power or principle of selt'-dilatation, 
by virtue whereof, though the hairs may by a man^s hand be bent and 
crowded closer together and into a narrower room than suits best with 
the nature of the body, yet, whilst the compression lasts, there is in the 
fleece they compose an endeavour outwards, whereby it continually thrusts 
against the hand that opposed its expansion; and, upon the removal 
of the external pressure by opening the hand more or less, the compressed 
wool doth, as it were, spontaneously expand or display itself towards the 
recovery of its former more loose and free condition till the fleece hath 
either regained its former dimensions, or at least approached them as near 
as the compressing hand (perchance not quite opened) will permit. This 
power of self-dilatation is somewhat more conspicuous in a dry sponge 
compressed than in a fleece of wool ; bat yet we rather chose to employ 
the latter on this occasion, becau<«e it i^^ not, like a sponge, an entre body, 
but a number of slender and flexible bodies, loosely complicated, as the 
air itself seems to be. — Worhs^ p. 12. 

Having placed the elasticity of the air beyond question, 
his next care is to demonstrate its weight. This too seems 
very simple at the present day ; the idea of the weight of 
the atmosphere is now almost as familiar to every person of 
ordinary intelligence as that of the atmosphere itself; but we 
must remember it was different in the time of Boyle ; as little 
was known about it then as about the law of gravitation 
demonstrated by Newton. 

"But lest you should expect my seconding this reason by experience; 
and lest yon should objc'ct, that most of the experiments, that have been 
proposed to prove the gravity of the air, have been either barely pro* 
posed, or perhaps not accurately tried ; I am content, before I pass fur- 
ther, to mention here, that I found a dry Iambus bladder containing near 
about two thirds of a pint^ and compressed by a packthread tied abon€ it, 



1866.] HIS INFLUENCE ON SCIENCE AND LIBERAL IDBA8. 7& 

to lose a grain and the eighth part of a grain of its former weight, b j the 
recess of the air upon my having pricked it : and this was with a pair of 
scales, which, when the fall bladder and the correspondent weight were 
in it, woald manifestly tnm either way with the 82d part of the grain. 
And if it be farther objected, that the air in the bladder was violently 
compressed by the packthread and the sides of the bladder, we rai^ht 
probably (to waive prolix answers) be furnished with a reply, by setting 
down the different weight of onr receiver, when emptied, and when fall 
of nncomprossed air. If we could liere procure scales fit for so nice an 
experiment; since we are informed, that in the German experiment, com- 
mended at the beginning of this letter, the ingenious triers of it found, 
that their glass vessel, of the capacity of 82 measures, was lighter when 
the ur had been drawn out of it, than before, by no less than one ounce 
acd three-tenths, that is, an ounce and v^ry near a third. But of the 
gravity of the air, we may elsewhere have occasion to make further men- 
tion. Taking it then for granted, that the air is not devoid of weight, it 
will not be uneasy to conceive, that that part of the atmosphere, wherein 
we live, being the lower part of it, corpuscles, that compose it, are very 
much compressed by the weight of all those of the like nature, that are 
directly over them; that is, of all the particles of air, that being piled up 
upon them7 reach to the top of the atmosphere.^ — Warks^ p. 13. 

We need not refer at any further length to his experi- 
ments on the air, or to the results of those experiments, to 
show how fully he prepared the way for Cavendish, Priestley, 
Hales, and Mayhew ; nor need we assign any more satisfac- 
tory reasons for the high respect which the great Newton 
had for his scientific genius, and which prompted him to give 
him his views in relation even to gravitation and optics, in 
order to elicit his opinion on those subjects. Most of the 
biographers of Kewton have been very careful to omit all 
allusion to this circumstance. If Brewster refers to it in his 
voluminous work it is in a very ambiguous, obscure way. 
But one of the letters of Newton, written on the subject to 
Boyle, is still extant m the great astronomer's own hand- 
writing, and is printed in full in the edition of Boyle's works 
now before us. The editor tells us that ii had never been 
published before. If it has ever appeared since in any other 
publication very few are acquainted with it. We will, there- 
tore, extract the introductory part, omitting Ihe philosopher's 
illustrative diagram and demonstration : 

'' Honoured Sir— I have so long deferred to send you my thoughts 
about the physical quantities we speak of, that did I not esteem myself 
obliged by promise, I think I should be ashamed to send them at all. The 
truth is, my notions about things of this kind are so indigested, that I am 
not well satined myself in them ; and what I am not satisfied in, I can 
scarce esteem fit to be communicated to others ; especially in a natural 
philosophy, where there is no end to fancying. But becau96 I am 
inddkted to you^ and yesterday met with a friend, Mr. Manly verer. who 
told me he was going to London, and intended to give you the trouble of' 
a visit, I could not forbear to take the opportunity of conveying this to 
yon by him. 



76 ROBERT BOTLB : [December, 

'^ It being oalj an explication of qnalities wbiob 70a desire of me, I 
shall set down mj apprehensions in the form of suppositions, as follows : 
And first, I sappose, that there is dlffased through all places an ethereal 
substance, capable of contraction and dilatation, strongly elastic, and, in 
a word, much like air in all respects, but far more subtile. 

*^2. 1 suppose this ether pervades all gross bodies, but yet so as to stand 
rarer in their pores than in free spaces, and so much the rarer, as their 
pores ai*e less. And this I suppose (with others) to be the cause why 
Ught incident on those bodies is refracted towards the perpendicular ; why 
to well polished metals cohere in a receiver exhausted of air ; why stands 
sometimes up to the top of a glass pipe, though tnnch higher than 80 
inches : and one of the main causes, why the parts of all bodies cohere ; 
also the cause of filtration, and of the rising of water m small glass pipes 
above the surface of the stagnating water they are dipped into : for I sus- 
pect the ether may stand rarer, not only in the insensible pores of bodies^ 
but even in the very sensible cavities of those pipes. And the same 
principle may cause menstruums to pervade with violence the pores of 
the bodies they dissolve, the surrounding ether, as well as the atmos- 
phere, pressing them together. 

"I suppose the rarer ether within bodies, and the denser without them, 
not to be terminated in a mathematical superficies, but to grow gradually 
into one another ; the external ether beginning to grow rarer, and the 
internal to grow denser, at some little distance from the superficies of the 
body, and running through all degrees of density in the intermediate 
spaces. And this maybe the cause why light, in Grimaldo's experiment^ 
passing by the edge of a knife, or other opake body, is turned aside, and 
as it were refracted, and by that refraction makes several colors.'* — 
Boyle^g Works^ vol. i., p. oxii. 

It would be vaiu to attempt to compress into a periodical 
article even the briefest analysis of miscellaneous works like 
those of Boyle, which fill six thick quarto volumes ; all We un- 
dertake, therefore, is to make such observations as occur to us 
on the portions which have interested us most, and ask our 
readers, as we proceed, whether their author is not worthy 
of being remembered. That this is as much as we could 
pretend to accomplish will be readily admitted, when it is 
borne in mind that the tables of contents alone of the dif- 
ferent volumes would occupy a considerable proportion of 
the space which we can devote to this article. We cannot 
make room for all the titles ; we must, in general, content 
ourselves with those of the philosopher's most remarkable 
productions.' 

In the first volume we have his " New Experiments Phys- 
ico-mechanical touching the Spring of the Air and its Effects," 
and a •* Defence of the Doctrine touching the Spring and 
Weight of the Air." We have another defence of the same 
experiments, because their being new at the time caused them 
to be attacked by many. Another curious essay bearing on 
the same subject is that entitled ** An Examen of Hobbes's 
Dialogus Physicus de Natura AerUf &c., with an Appendix 



1866.] HIS INFLUENCE ON SCIENCE AND LIBERAL IDEAS 77 

toacbing Mr. Hobbes's Doctrine of Fluidity and Firmness/* 
We baye also ** Some Specimens of an Attempt to make 
Chemical Experiments useful to illustrate the Notions of the 
Corpuscular Philosophy ; " " The Sceptical Chymist ; or 
Chymico-Fhysical Doubts and Paradoxes touching the Ex- 
periments whereby yulgar Spargyrists are wont to endeavor 
to evince their Salt, Sulphur, and Minerals to be the true 
Principles of Things ; " '* Experiments and Considerations 
touching Colors ; " " The Experimental History of Colors," 
&c. 

These are but a few of the topics treated in the first 
yolume, and all were new at the time ; in order, therefore, to 
do justice to the genius of the author, we must take the 
latter fact into account in examining his works ; that is, we 
must not compare them with works written more than a 
century later, and which embrace the results of the re- 
searches of many investigators. This would not be fair; 
but no comparison made by an intelligent person would 
derogate in the least from the credit which is justly due to 
Boyle for his undoubted originality and foresight, although 
his modesty is everjrwhere apparent, even in his titles. He 
states nothing dogmatically ; on the contrary, he lays down 
his most important propositions as opinions which may be 
erroneous, rather than as facts which cannot be disputed. 

The second yolume opens with ^' Some Considerations 
touching the Usefulness of Experimental Philosophy.'' 
This is followed by three essays on the same subject ; then we 
are presented with a fourth essay, which is entitled ^* Di- 
gression concerning those thcU would exclude the Deity from 
intermeddling xnith Matter,'*^ We haye similar essays on the 
" Usefulness of Natural Philosophy. " In connection with 
these there are three remarkable essays on the **• pathological, 
demeiotical, and hygienial parts of physic." More curious 
and interesting still are the '^ New Experiments and Obser- 
yations touehing Co2J." Many who pretend to make great 
discoyeries at the present day and speak like oracles would 
do well to read these essays carefully. V/e would particu- 
larly recommend to our boards of health such essays as that 
entitled a <' Sceptical Consideration of the Heat of Cellars in 
Winter and their Coldness in Summer." 

Still more philosophical is the third volume. Even at 
the present day, when the various subjects upon which it 
treats haye exercised the abilities of so many learned 
and indefatigable investigators, all of whom haye flourished 



78 ROBERT BOTLE : [December, 

since the time of Boyle, it is instructive as well as interest- 
ing. Of this character is the essay on the origin of Forms 
and Idealities with which thevolume opens; that on the New 
Experiments concerning the relation between Light and Air ; 
New Fneumatical Experiments about Respiration ; of doing 
by Pl^ysical Knowleage what is wont to require ManuiJ 
Skill. Each of these would well repay perusal, even in the 
present boasted age ; and the same remark will apply still 
more emphatically to the author's admirable papers on the 
Rarificatiop of the Air ; the Pressure of heavy Solids and 
Fluids ; the Perviousness of Glass ; Experiments to make fire 
and flame stable and ponderable. 

Of the numerous papers which we have in the fourth 
volume the most interesting are those on ''The Growth of 
Metals in their Ore;" the "Mechanical origin of Heat and Cold;" 
^'Mechanical production of Odors ;" "Natural History of the 
Human Blood;" "Porosity of Bodies;" "Experimental History 
of Mineral Waters." Those who carefully examine these and 
are capable of forming an intelligent estimate of their char- 
acter will readily admit that, had their author written 
nothing else, he would have been justly entitled to rank as a 
philosopher; nay, indeed, there is much in this volume 
which is singularly prophetic, clearly pointing as it does to 
facts and phenomena which were then entirely unknown, but 
which have since rendered many discoverers illustrious. 

The most interesting papers in the fifth volume are those 
which discuss different kinds of motion, the causes of the 
insalubrity and salubrity of the air, final causes of natural 
things, hydrostatics applied to the materia medica, &c. The 
sixth volume is occupied chiefly by the author's extensive 
correspondence with the most eminent philosopers and scien- 
tific men of his time. Many of these letters are highly in- 
structive ; they not only show the esteem and even venera- 
tion which some of the most learned of his contemporaries 
had for Boyle ; they also embrace scientific facts and sugges- 
tions which philosophers of the present day would have 
the world consider as having never been thought of anterior 
to their time. 

That Boyle has written essays that are not of much 
value is very true ; it is equally true that he was not always 
correct in his opinions, but that, on the contrary* his views 
were sometimes visionary. But of what philosopher cannot 
the same be said ? Was the divine Plato himself always 
right ? Was not even the Stagirite sometimes egregiously 



1866] BIS IVFLUENCB ON 8CISNCB AND UBBRAL IDEAS. 79 

wrong ? Kepler* the legislator of the heavens, while de- 
veloping the great Laws which have rendered him immortaU 
often indulged in the most puerile speculations. How 
much did Galileo write which he acknowledged himself was 
of no value, and which is sometimes reprinted in his works 
only because it is his? Still more emphatically may this be 
said of the great Newton, who left reams of paper closely 
written which the most enthusiastic of his admirers could 
not regard as possessing any intrinsic value ; even so much 
value in any sense as would justify their publication. 

It may be admitted that the essays of Boyle on medicine are 
rather out of place ; or at least that the subject was one upon 
which he was not well qualified to write ; and yet they con- 
tain many hints *and facts which are not without value. A 
similar remark may be made in reference to his essays on the 
Origin and Virtues of Gems; the Martyrdom of Theodora and 
Didymus, his Discourse of Quicksilver growing hot with 
Gold, and two or three others on kindred subjects. Many 
have objected to his theological writings ; his Meditations 
have been severally satirized bySvrifC;* similar attacks have 
been made on other essays of his written in the same spirit. 
In our opinion he would have pursued a more judicious 
course in leaving the treatment of theological subjects to the 
churchmen. But if we compare his theological writings 
with those of Newton we shall see that his are at least as 
good as those of the great astronomer. If it be alleged that 
they have not exercised much influence, if only for the reason 
that most persons who study theology prefer to take up 
the works of professional theologians, the fact may be ad- 
mitted without any prejudice to the author's fame ; but if 
his researches in this field did not influence others, they exer* 
cised a very decided and salutary influence on himself. We 
have evidence of this in all his writings, for no one has done 
more to reconcile the teachings of science with those of re- 
ligion ; nor has any divine or pulpit orator made better use 
of Scripture than Boyle has of science as a means of inspir- 
ing suitable ideas of the Deity. A passage or two from his 
writings will sufficiently illustrate this. 

In showing that the study of natural philosophy, far from 
being injurious to religion, as many pretended m his day as 
they do now, he says that '' The consideration of the vast- 
ness, beauty, and regular motions of the heavenly bodies, 

o See the Dean's Meditations on a Broomstick, and the note prefixed to it, 
hi Bohn's ediUoa of.Swift's works. 



80 ROBERT BOTLE : [December, 

the excellent structure of animals and plants, besides a mul- 
titude of other phenomena of nature, and the subserviency 
of most of these to man, may justly induce him, as a rational 
creature, to conclude that this vast, beautiful, orderly, and, 
in a word, many ways admirable system of things that we 
call the world was framed by an author supremely powerful, 
wise, and good, can scarce be denied by an intelligent and 
unprejudiced considerer." 

Need we say that no professional theologian has uttered 
a nobler sentiment than this, or one better calculated to do 
good? But Boyle has uttered better, if such be possible ; he 
has done so in the following brief passages, although the style 
in which he clothes his ideas is by no means a model in its kind : 
'' But treating elsewhere purposely of this subject, it may here 
suffice to say that G-od has couched so many things in his 
visible works that the clearer .light a man has the more he 
may discover of their unobvious exquisiteness, and the more 
clearly and distinctly he may discern those qualities that lie 
more obvious. And the more wonderful things he discovers 
in the works of nature, the more auxiliary proofs he meets 
with to establish and enforce the argument drawn from the 
universe and its parts, to evince that there is a God ; which is a 
proposition of that vast weight and importance that it. ought 
to endear everything to us that is able to confirm it, and afford 
us new motives to acknowledge aind adore the divine Author of 
things. To be told that the eyeis the organ ofsight, and that 
this is performed by that faculty of the mind which, from its 
function, is called visive, will give a man but a sorry account 
of the instruments and manner of vision itself, or of the 
knowledge of that Opificer, who, as the Scripture speaks, 
'formed the eye.' And he that can take up with this easy 
theory of vision will not think it necessary to take the pains 
to dissect the eyes of animals, nor study the books of mathe- 
maticians, to understand vision ; and accordingly will have 
but mean thoughts of the contrivance of the organ and the 
skill of the artificer in comparison of the ideas that will be 
suggested of both of them to him that, being profoundly 
skilled in anatomy and optics, by their help takes asunder 
the several coats, humors, and muscles, of which the exqui- 
site dioptrical instrument consists ; and having separately 
considered the figure, size, consistence, texture, diaphaneity 
or opacity, situation, and connection of each of them, and 
their coaptation in the whole e^e, shall discover, by the help 
of the laws of optics, how admirable this little organ is fitted 



1866.] HIS INFLUKNCK ON SCIINCE AKD UBEBAL IDEAS. 81 

to receive the incident beams of light and dispose them in 
the best manner possible for completing the lively represen- 
tation of the almost infinitely various objects of sight." 

The best feature of the theology of Boyle after all is its 
unquestionable sincerity. He not only wrote and spoke in 
favor of Christianity himself, but liberally paid others for 
doing so. He caused the G-ospels to be translated into several 
languages and sent to different Heathen nations at bis own 
expense ; he contributed ^300 to their propagation in New 
England. One less modest than he would have preferred 
sending his own writings to the Heathen rather than those of 
others ; but he engaged Dr.p?ococke, the learned Orientalist, to 
translate Ghrotius' treatise '' De veritate Christianas Religionis" 
into Arabic. It is true that there are many who, while very 
ready to attend to the spiritual condition of the heathen in 
distant parts of the world, make no effort to relieve their 
suffering fellow-countrymen; it was otherwise, howev<^r, 
with Robert Boyle, who, as Bishop Burnet informs us from 
his own knowledge, devoted ^1,000 annually to charities. 
Not content with all this he inserted a clause in his will 
establishing an annuity to provide for a series of eight lectures 
annually in defence of Christianity ; or, to use the words of 
the testator, ** for proving the Christian religion against 
notorious infidels — namely, atheists, theists, pagans, Jews, 
and Mohammedans; not descending lower to any controversies that 
are atnong Christians themsdvesV * 

The words we have marked in italics are particularly 
characteristic of the Philosopher of Lismore ; no words he 
has written do him more honor. Written as they were on one 
of the last days of his life, they show that he was liberal and 
benevolent towards those who differed with him in religion, 
when he could have had no worldly motive in being so. It 
was his wish that no distinction should be made between 
Protestant or Catholic, and that one more than the other 
should not be offended by any of the divines annually chosen 
to deliver the lectures. At first sight this may seem a mat- 
ter of little importance, but its effect on the English mind 
has been very great. Even Bishop Burnet admitted that 
he was influenced by it himself; a similar admission was 
made by Dr. Paley more than a century later, and there has 
been but little bigotry since in the Anglican Church. Here, 

*Mr. EUlot, of Boxbory, MasMchosetts, used to address him, in 16S0. as 
" charitable, indefatigable, nnndng father.*' — Boffk't Worki^ vol. i, p. ocviL 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVII. 6 



82 ROBKRT botle: [December, 

too, we may pause for a moment- to remind the reader of 
the " degeneracy" of Boyle of Lismore as compared to Boyle 
of Herfordshire, " the great Earl of Cork." The influence of 
each is felt to the present day ; that of the philosopher 
throughout Christendom, but that of the great Lord only in 
Ireland. And what a contrast in the latter! While the 
lessons of the father are those of lasting strife and oppression, 
the lessons of the son are those of liberality, tolerance, and 
benevolence. 

Ope who has done so much for science as Robert Boyle 
could not have been otherwise than learned; but he did not 
devote himself exclusively to the sciences. He spoke sev- 
eral languaffes, including Latin, French, and Italian. More 
than one of his biographers tell us that he was acquainted 
with at least three of the Oriental languages. Be this as it 
may, his stock of knowledge was immense and multifarious. 
The most learned men of his time bear willing testimony to 
this fact. Both Sydenham and Wallis dedicated their great- 
est works to him.* Kor was he less admired abroad than he 
was at home ; some of the most illustrious foreigners corre- 
sponded with him, as with a superior being. The learned 
Boerhaave admired him as " the ornament of his age and 
country," and asserted that it was he who ^'succeeded to the 
genius and inquiries of Bacon." "Which of Boyle's writings 
shall I recommend ?" says the same philosopher. " AH of 
them," he answers. To this he adds : To him we owe the 
secrets of fire, air, water, animals, vegetables, fossils ; so 
that from his works may be deduced the whole system of 
Natural Knowledge."! Francisco Redi, another great thinker 
of his time, calls him " the greatest man that ever was, and 
perhaps ever will be, for the discovery of natural causes."^ 

In speaking of what he did for chemistry Bishop 
Burnet remarks that he engaged in that science " with none 
of those ravenous and ambitious designs that drew many into 
them. His design was only to find out nature, to see into 

* Sydenham, in dedicatiog to hhn his Methodua eurandi FebreSj &c., 
:addre8^ed him as iUu0tri88imoetetcellentiB8imo."-*ffor/r«,yol. i, p. Ixxxvii. 
Dr. Needham, another philosoplier, dedicated to him his Disqnisitio 
Anotomiea deformato Fbetu, calling hun '* nobiliaaimo^ clarisnmo" dhc—Jb. 

f ** Leqiiel de ses Merits, s'lcrie Boerhaave, qui 6tait ayec raison un grand 
Admirateur de Bojle, puis-jo louer? Tons. Nous lui devons les secrets 
du feu, de I'air, de I'eau, des animanx, des v^g^tanx, des fossiles ; de sorte 
€iae de sea ouvrages peut Stre dedult le syst^me entier des sciences physiques et 
natnrelles." Nouvelle Blog. Odn., tome vi:, p. 191. See Boerhaave's Methodia 
xUtcettdi fnedkmam. 

t Bedi'8 Works, 4to, Florence, 1724. 



1866.] HIS INFLUBXGE OX SCIENCE AND LIBEBAL IDEAS. 83 

what principles things might be resolved and of what they 
were composed."* Dr. Shaw is, if possible, still more em* 
phatic in his admiration. ** Here," he says, '< was a noble 
soul ; a true philosophical mind, well seasoned with humanity, 
beneficence, and goodness. Afler he had led us through all 
the regions of nature, considered her various productions, 
showed us their uses and the manner of converting them to 
our several purposes, convinced us that we live in a world 
most wisely contrived wherein numberless good designs are at 
once carried on with unceasing variety and manifested that all 
the beings and all the bodies we know jointly conspire, as 
one whole, in bringing about the great ends of nature."* With- 
out further testimony this, we think, ought to satisfy even those 
unacquainted with the works of Boyle, that no philosopher 
who has written in the English language has stronger claims 
on the gratitude of aM who value the natural sciences for the 
service they render mankind. Locke is the only one who 
can be compared to him in the unsullied lustre of his char- 
acter. Assuming the author of the Kovum Organum to 
have been innocent of the worst charge preferred against 
him, yet even his own biographers place Boyle above him in 
the moral scale ; nor do they deny that the philosopher of 
Lismore has, upon the whole, done quite as much good for 
mankind as the great Chancellor. The didcoveries of New- 
ton are, Indeed, grander and more striking than those of 
Boyle; but are they more useful? have they contributed 
more to human comfort or to the development of the 
human mind ? If some maintain the affirmative, even these 
will hardly claim that the philosopher who wrote an elabo- 
rate work to prove that the Pope was Antichrist, who 
put himself to much expense and trouble, and exercised all the 
mfluence he possessed in order to prevent a scientific an 1 
learned man from receiving an academic degree for no better 
reason than that his religion differed from his own and from 
that of his friends — ^was so wise or philosophical a man, 
after all, so good a moralist, or so good a statesman, not to 
mention his religion, as the philosopher who loved no one the 
less for differing with him in opinion, who regarded religious 
intolerance as the worst kind of oppression, because its 
object is to shackle the mind, and who accordingly protested 
against it with his last breath. 

* Preface to Dr. Shaw's Abridgment of Boyle's Philosophical Works. Lon- 
don, 1788. 



84 FOOD AXD ITS PREPARATION. [December, 

None set a higher value on the discoveries of Newton 
than we ; none more highly admire his many excellent qual- 
ities ; we have devoted as much labor and research to the 
works of Bacon as perhaps any other periodical writer of the 
present day, so that none whom we could influence should 
fail to profit by their teachings. There are many other phi- 
losopherSy ancient and modern, with whom we have taken 
similar pains ; but Boyle is the most admirable character we 
have met with in the whole range of philosophy, science, 
and literature ; and if instead of being born in Ireland he had 
been a Hindoo, a Laplander, or an African, we would have 
sought to do him equal justice, and to prove that wherever 
his ancestors were born, whether they were persons who 
threw down mass-houses or '* transplanted multitudes of 
barbarous septs" from their own soil into '* the wilds and 
deserts," he was not a degenerate son, but far nobler than 
any of his ancestors — vastly superior to any "great Earl" 
that ever oppressed a generous people* 



Art. IV — Food and Us Adulterations, composing the Reports of the 
Analytic Sanitary Commission of the " Lancet^ in the years 
1851 to 1854, inclusive. By Arthur Hill Hassal, M.D., Chief 
Aualyst of the Commission. London, 1855. 

2* Fhysidogie du gout ; ou Meditations de Oastronomie Trans^ 
eendante : Ouvrage Chedriqtte, Histrique et a Pordre du jour. 
Par M. Bbillat Sayarin, Membre de plusieurs Societ^s Sa- 
vantes. Paris, 1835. 

3. Physiological Chemistry. By Professor C. 0. Lehmann. Phila- 

delphia, 1866. 

4. Des FalsifiecUions des Substances alimentaires et des Moyens 

Chimiques de les reconnaUre. Par Jules Garnier et Ch. 
Harel. Paris. 

Though psychologists vary in determining the exact line 
of demarcation which separates instinct from reason, yet the 
main differences are so easy to grasp that, practically, no 
difficulty is experienced in assigning the actions of animals to 
the operation of the one or the other cause. Thus we set 
down as the result of instinct the architectural industry of 
the beaver« for the reason that it exhibits none of the 
vagueness and fluctuations which mark the progressive ten- 
dencies of reason. But, perhaps, in no respect do the 
essential differences between these faculties appear so strongly 
as ill the selection of those articles of food which nature 
designed for the sustenance of the various animal tribes. 



IS 66.] FOOD AND ITS PREPABATION. 85 

The brute creation display an unerring accuracy in this 
choice, not only by the avoidance of articles of a positively 
noxious sort, but in choosing substances which admit of the 
speediest assimilation with the tissues of the body. We all 
know that the herbivora, whose alimentary canal is adapted to 
slow and elaborate digestion, confine themselves to an herbal 
dietary, and even this with certain differences according as 
physiology has proved the suitableness of grass, hay, rice, 
&c., to the organic and structural condition of the animal. 
This provision was indeed indispensable, since nothing but an 
innate discernment could guide unreasoning creatures in the 
selection of proper food. With man, reason and experience 
take the place ot instinct ; nor can we determine the influence 
an imperfect system of dietetics has exercised in past times 
over human health and longevity till enlightened experience 
and sound science demonstrate the entire suitableness of some 
regime to the wants and conditions of the human frame. 
We know that the various nations which people the earth 
exhibit the greatest possible diversity in the quality and prep- 
aration of their food ; that the Esquimaux lap train oil, and 
swallow putrid blubber with as much gusto as the veriest 
gourmand who gorges truffes or pat^s de foie gras ; that the 
Muscovites delight in the stale renderings of lard, nor found 
in the metropolis of France, when they entered as con- 
querors, anything more seductively appetising than tallow 
candles ! We know that the Chinese luxuriates in quiet 
enjoyment over his dainty quarter of rat or dog pot-pie, or 
bii da-nest soup; while the spiritual Frenchman has earned 
from the gross beef-eaters ot " Merrie England " the con- 
temptuous appellation of Johnny Crapaud because of his 
pardonable weakness for frog fricassee. The keen relish with 
which the Teuton gloats over the penetrating flavor of per- 
fumed Limburger or the heavy layers of Sauerkraut and 
Bologna with which he lines the coats of his stomach would 
bring pallor to Milesian cheeks grown ruddy on potatoes 
and milk. . 

Thus the stomach of one nation revolts at what is deemed 
a capital esculent and a dainty dish by another; and in no 
respect do men verify the dictum of Cicero, tot siwntenti 
quot capita^ as in the diversity of their tastes and in 
their attachment to cuisineries as opposite as the poles. 
This proves that men have been guided in this lespect 
by blind experience, which can adduce no stronger argument 
in favor ot any dish than the mere fact that it does not dis- 



S6 FOOD AND ITS PREPARATION. . [December, 

agree with the stomach ; nor can it be said that instinct has 
aught to do in the matter, since instinct is uniform in its 
teachings, and the preference we exhibit for certain dishes is 
the result of inveterate custom. Before man can therefore be 
assured that he is in entire conformity with nature in the 
selection and preparation of his food he must understand its 
chemical and physical composition and the various processes 
involved in digestion. 

Before Liebig and the modern school of chemists made 
the first step towards the true solution of the many difficulties 
which surround those questions, thinking men of all times 
had busied themselves variously in attempting to explain 
the mysterious processes by which nature converts food into 
the living tissues of the body, while the masses, taking their 
appetite for their sole guide, found full satisfaction in its 
gratification. Perhaps few chapters in the history of the 
human mind exhibit in a more marked manner its weak- 
nesses and eccentricities than those which relate to the se- 
lection and preparation of food among different nations, and 
in different ages, and the means by which enervated com- 
munities strive to gratify their pampered appetites. The 
earliest records we have of cooking are those of the Jewish 

Eeople, and the only item of their dietary it is worth while 
ere to note is that which relates to the eating of swine- 
flesh and the blood of animals generally. Voltaire and his 
friends saw in this prohibition a useless ordinance, a dis- 
tinction founded on no difference, and accordingly derided it 
as they did the other provisions of the Jewish laws. But in 
this, as in many other respects, modern science has vindi- 
cated the Mosaic record against the sneers of those pseudo- 
philosophers. 

The microscope has demonstrated the existence of an ani- 
malcule which especially infests the flesh of the hog and which, 
when introduced into the human system, produces a linger- 
ing and wasting disease. This animalcule is known as the 
cystictrctis cellulosa, and the disease has just been ravaging 
Europe under the name of trichince. As for blood, it contains 
but imperfectly the elements of nutrition, and is laden with 
.the refuse matter which it has washed from the parts to 
which it supplied nutriment. The flesh of kids broiled on 
embers, and course bread, furnished a regime as simple 
and wholesome as could be desired, and entirely suited to a 

Seople who led a wandering life. The other nations of the 
last were more choice in their food, and sought to coax their 



1866.] FOOD AND ITS PRBPARATIOK. 87 

gilate by spicy condiments and new combinations. The 
gyptian, who detested the lovers of Raul gout in meat, 
cooked his beef or goose immediately after it was killed, and 
ate all but the head, which, as Herodotus says, he held in 
pious abhorrence. They were very partial to vegetables, 
which they cooked in the juice of their meat till a super- 
stitious reverence for the products of the garden forbade 
their use at table. This folly of theirs Juvenal has 
handed down in the lines — 

« '^ Porrum et cepe nefas violare ao frangere raoran, 
O sanctas gentes qnibas hoc nasoantnr in hortia. 
Namina." 

But the Greeks were the first to elevate cookery from its 
crude state, and impart to it the elegance and taste which 
marked the progress of the other arts among them. Hitherto 
broils were the chief 'pieca de resistance^ and were flanked 
by the humble leek or garlic. The early efforts of even the 
Greeks shared the same simplicity ; and there is reason to 
suspect that the hard-fighting heroes of Homer had no more 
dainty viaud to coax their appetite, or stay the cravings of 
hunger than the broiled flesh of bulls and goats; for, as 
Madame Dacier remarks, we find no mention of boiled meats 
in any of the Homeric menus. Like every art, therefore, 
which contributes largely to the comfort and happiness of 
man, cookery progressed slowly, and only reacht^d its zenith 
in conjunction with the arts of eloquence, sculpture, and 
painting, which were the ornament and glory of the age of 
Pericles. The traditions, however, which inform us of the 
achievements of the Grecian cuisinp are so vague and uncer- 
tain as to cast but the faintest radiance on the subject, and 
archasophilists have no greater loss to mourn than the miss- 
ing monograms which revealed the tendencies of the Greek 
mind with reference to this important and interesting ques- 
tion. 

The work most frequently mentioned is a didactic 
poem by Archestratus, a gastronome of irreproachable taste 
and the intimate friend of the house of Pericles. Athenaeus 
says that this poem was *• a treasure of science — every verse 
a precept." Indeed, we may not wonder at this, since we 
have it on the same authority that the writer braved the 
perils of the sea and cheerfully submitted to the inconve- 
niences of travel to obtain a comparative digest of the gas- 
tronomical peculiarities of different nations. Probably the 
most accomplished feat the culinary art among the Greeks 



8 8 FOOD AKD ITS PREPARATION. [December, 

could boast of was the roast pig of Athens. So much was 
this viewed in the light of a chef-JCcRuvre that its crafty de- 
visers were honored by the state ; and one cook» being asked 
to explain how so miraculous a dish was projected, melo- 
dramatically swore by the manes of those who fell at Mara- 
thon and Salamis that he would not reveal the secret even at 
the peril of his life. The professors of the art have however 
given us the benefit of the recipe ; and though the combina- 
tion might shock the fastidious palate of a modern epicure, 
it cannot be denied that it exhibits as much art and 
ingenuity, and is quite as outre as any of the grand carter of 
Ude and Cardrae. 

After being subjected to a thorough cleansing process 
the pig was eviscerated slowly, but in such a manner 
as to leave the integrity of the surface intact. It was 
then stuffed with thrushes highly spiced, intervals being 
allowed for the insertion of forced meats, olives, eggs, 
the meat of nuts, Eubcean apples, Phoenician dates, Corinth- 
ian quinces, almonds from Noxos, and other delicacies. One 
side was enveloped in a thick layer of fat and the other was 
exposed to the action of a quick fire long enough to cook 
the meat but not the inserting. After this the fat was 
stripped from the undone side, which was immersed in a 
shallow pan filled with water and slowly boiled until the 
contents were thoroughly cooked. The pig was then dished, 
and presented to the expectant eye the anomaly of a pig 
half roasted and half boiled, and yet whole arid intact from 
.snout to tail. The uninitiated sought for the line which the 
•running hand of the chef was supposed to have drawn in 
♦order to sever piggy in twain, but not being able to find it 
<marvelled at the consummate art which could illude one 
isense and entrance another. 

We may here remark that the Athenian gastronome 
loo^ked to effect in appearance as in rapidity, knowing that 
tempting looks make fruition keener. This is probably but 
.a mf re sample of Grecian skill in cookery ; and yet how lit- 
.tle, apparently, does it differ from the rod sans pareil of De la 
Reyni^re. This is considered one of the highest efforts of 
the art, and has elicited rapturous encomiums from profes- 
.sionals and connoiftseurs. This roti consists in the intus- 
susception of fourteen fowls in the following manner : A 
large olive is stuffed with capers and jolets d*anchois ; the 
olive is placed in the body ot a fig-pecker ; this is inserted 
.into an ortolan, the ortolan into the body of a dissected lark ; 



186«.] FOOD AND rra prkpabation. 89 

the lark is covered with slices of lard and is placed in the 
body of a thrush similarly dissected ; a quail covered with a 
vine leaf receives the concentric treasure, and is in turn im- 
mured in the body of a lapwing, for which a golden plover 
performs the same service. The plover is placed in a wood- 
cock, the woodcock in a teal, the teal in a guinea-hen, the 
guinea-hen in a young wild duck, the duck in a chicken, the 
chicken in a pheasant, the pheasant in a young wild goose, 
the goose in a small turkey, and the latter in an outardcj or 
wild turkey. This elaborate dish may present to the 
finely sensitive papilloB of an expert's palate a combi- 
nation of flavors which would be lost on vulgar organs ; but 
we question whether there is not more elegance of concep- 
tion and neatness of execution in the Athenian dish. 

The art continued to flourish in Athens during her days of de- 
cline ; and when men ot letters no longer frequented her streets 
to learn philosophy from her sons, luxurious barbarians came to 
taste the excellence o1 her dishes. From Athens gastronomy, 
with the other fine arts, emigrated to Rome ; and here, as in 
poetry and statuary, the essential characteristics of both na- 
tions were made manifest. There was in Athenian cookery 
a lightness and grace which sought to please the eye and 
delight the palate; but the Romans introduced profusion and 
costliness, and while they kept in sight the main requisites 
of a meal, they esteemed it in proportion as the viands 
were rare and recherchecs. Peacocks from Samos, chickens 
from Phrygia, kids from Melos, cranes from ^tolia, 
tunnies from Chalcedon, pikes from Pessinus, oysters from 
Tarentum, mussels from Chios, and dates from Egypt, often 
weighed down the boards of the rich. In this unnatural 
craving after new means for sating their pandered appetites 
no expense was spared ; and Cato once declared that no city 
could endure in which a fish was sold for more than an ox. 
LucuUus often expended more than six thousand dollars ou 
a single meal; andVitellius composed, at an expense of forty 
thousand dollars, a dish made of the brains of pheasants and 
peacocks, the tongues of nightingales, and the livers of the 
rarest fishes. 

** Old Lncollus. they say, 
Forty oooka had each day, 
And Viteiliub^ meals cost a million/' 

The Athenian roast pig was an especial favorite among 
the Romans, by whom it was called Trojan pig, from the 
wooden horse which it resembled in the number and variety 



90 FOOD AND ITS PRKPARAnoN. [December, 

of its contents. No historian, while investigating the causes 
which led to the downfall of the Roman empire, can fail to 
discern incipient decay in the outrageous extravagance and 
senseless love of splendor which led Varro to construct an 
aviary for thrushes, and Nero to build his domus aurea. Ju- 
venal failed not to lash this wide-spread vice ; and in no in- 
stance did the venom of his satire flow more freely from his 
pen than in the description of the scene which took {)lace in 
the palace at midnight ^between Domitian and the frightened 
senators who were convened to discuss the final disposition 
of a large turbot just brought in from Ischia. 

The incursion of the Northern barbarians put an end to 
ancient cookery ; and were it not that happily the Deipnago- 
phista of Athenaeus remained to us, very little would be known 
of those wonderful extravagances which broke the power of 
Rome and made the masters of the world the slaves of bar- 
barians. After this it is supposed that gastronomy, with its 
sister arts, found an asylum in the monasteries; but though 
there are abundant proofs that some of the medieval monks 
loved good cheer and grew ruddy and rotund on something 
besides the testimony of a good conscience, yet the art did 
not flourish in its refinements. 

We come now to the period of modern cookery, 
and are lost in the diversity of schools which grew out 
of the vast resources opened to the wondering gastronomes 
of Europe by the discovery oi a new world. Wo will 
not linger over the controversi 3S of the rival chefs of the 
Italian, German, and Spanish schools ; but, concurring 
in the universal verdict which has awarded the palm to 
France, we will glance at French cookery, which has already 
established a literature of its own, graced by such names as 
Beauvilliers, Cardme, Ude, and especially the humorous anl 
sparkling Brillat Savarin. French genius is wonderfully 
suited to achieve triumphs in the gastronomic art ; for ttie 
national quickness of perception would lead the Frenchman 
to note the evanescent delicacy of a particular flavor, to mark 
the volatile aroma of a dish, and fix the fleeting tenuity in its 
flight, while the mind of the Englishnian would be engrossed 
by considerations of national policy, the German would lose 
himself in the mazes of metaphysics, or the American would be 
nervously speculating on the fluctuations of the stock market. 
At once the whole enthusiaism of French nature was aroused, 
and throbbing brains devised, cunning hands executed, and 
delicate palates tasted exquisite confectionsi delicious paUs 



1866.] FOOD AND ITS PBEPABATION. 91 

and combinations in which a refined taste and faultless judg- 
ment commingled the most savory of meats with the most 
succulent juices. G-astronomy became an art so much 
the more prized because, guided by somewhat of a 
Christian principle, it sought rather to flatter the palate by 
the' airiest of dishes, gossamer preparations, than to overload 
the stomach like the Roman guzzlers who pined after longer 
necks or more capacious stomachs that their enjoyment 
might be protracted, "Dishes have been invented," says 
M. Brillat Savarin, **so attractive that they unceasingly 
renew the appetite, and which are at the same time so light 
that they flatter the palate without loading the stomach. 
Seneca would have called them nubes esculentas. We are 
indeed arrived at such a degree of alimentary progress that if 
the calls of business did not compel us to rise from table, or 
if the want of sleep did not interpose, the duration of meals 
might be almost indefinite, and there would be no sure data 
for determining the time that might elapse between the first 
glass of Madeira and the last glass of punch." 

Indeed, in this we see the chief superiority of modern cook- 
ery over the ancient, that no professed gastronome can no w be a 
gormandizer, just us no connoisseur in wines can be a tippler ; 
whereas among the ancients it was considered that adequate 
justice was not done the board till each guest arose purple in 
the face, stufied from the pyloric to the cardiac orifice of the 
stomach, a satur conviva. Not unlike in this respect was 
Roman gastronomy to the postprandial practice of drinking 
to intoxication which prevailed in Scotland during the last 
century. So well recognized was the custom, and so highly 
honored in its observance, that a special gargon was in wait- 
ing whose duty it was to loose the neckerchief of each 
whiskey-freighted guest as he dropped under the table. 
Says M. Brillat Savarin : *' Doq% gourmandize become gluttony, 
voracity, intemperance, it loses its name, escapes from our 
jurisdiction, and falls within that of the moralist who will 
deal with it by his precepts, or the physician who will cure 
it by his remedies." French gastronomy, therefore, claims 
above all things to be reasonable, and, like the other arts, 
to conform to certain principles of beauty and truth. 
Hence gratification is sought not alone in the delicacy of 
the viands, the flavor of the sauces, nor the bouquet of the 
wines, but as much in the brilliant wit, the genial humor, 
and delightful ahandtm of the company, and in the elegance 
and splendor of the accessories. 



92 rooD AND ITS PREPARATION. ] December, 

This attention to what are ordinarily considered the mere 
accidentals of a meal is happily treated by Lady Morgan, 
who attended some of CarSme's superb dinners at Baron 
Rothschild's villa. "The dining-room," she says, "stood 
apart from the house in the midst of orange trees. It was an 
elegant oblong pavilion of Grecian marble, refreshed by 
fountains that shdt in air through scintillating streams ; and the 
table, covered with the beautiful and picturesque dessert, 
emitted no odor that was not in perfect conformity with the 
freshness of the scene and the fervor of the season. No burn- 
ished gold reflected the glaring sunset, no brilliant silver 
dazzled the eye ; porcelain beyond the price of all precious 
metals by its beauty and its fragility — every plate a picture 
-—consorted with the general character of sumptuous 
simplicity which reigned over the whole, and showed how 
well the masters of the feast had consulted the genius of the 
place in all." She then enters into an eloquent panegyric 
of the viands, the sauces, and the manifold odors which 
thrilled the olfactory and gustatory nerves with delight, 
" To do justice," she adds, " to the science and research of a 
dinner so served would require a knowledge of the art equal 
to that which produced it. Its character, however, was 
that it was in season ; that it was up to its time ; that it was 
in the spirit of the age; that there was no perruque in its 
composition, no trace of the wisdom of our ancestors in 
a single dish, no high-spiced sauces, no dark brown gravies, 
no flavor of cayenne and allspice, no tincture of catsup and 
walnut pickle, no visible agency of those vulgar elements of 
cooking ot the good old times — fire and water. Distillations 
of the most delicate viands, extracted in silver dews with 
chemical precision, 

^^ On tepid cloads of rUing steam/' 

formed the^biwf of all. Every meat presented its own natural 
aroma, every vegetable its own shade of verdure. The 
mayanese was fried in ice (like Ninon*s description of Sevign^'s 
heart), and the tempered chill of the bombifere (which held 
the place of the eternal fondu and souffleU of our English 
tables) anticipated the stronger shock, and broke it, ot the 
exquisite avalanche which, with the hue and odor of fresh- 
gathered nectarines, satisfied every sense and dissipated every 
coarser odor."* 

But French authorities — ^the creators and perfectors of 

* Franoe, vol. ii, p. 414. 



1866.] FOOD AND IT8 PBEPARATIOK. 93 

this exquisite art— can speak with more amnaismnce de cause ; 
and hence we will present M. Brillat Savarin's twelve tables 
rcgulatinff those accessories which, apart from the inherent 
quality of the viands, contribute to the zest of table enjoy- 
ment and elevate eating from a purely animal action to one 
which is calculated to stimulate the intellect and call forth 
the most generous emotions of the heart. '^ Canon first is : 

'*Let not the oorapacy exceed twelve ia namber, that the coaverda- 
tion may be constantly general. 

*'*' 2d. Let them be so selected that their oocnpations shall be varied, 
tbeir tastes analogoas and with sach relations between them that the 
hatefnl formality of presentation may be dispensed with. 

^* 3d. Let the room be brilliantly illamiaated, the cloth soropalonsly 
clean, and the atmosphere from thirteen to sixteen degrees of Reaamnr. 

^^4th. Let the men be spiritnai without pretension, the women agree- 
able without too maoh coquetry. 

^* 6th. Let the dishes be exceedinglv choice, but limited in number, and 
the wines of the best quantity, each of its sort. 

^' 6th. Let the order be, for the dishes, from the most substantial to the 
lightest ; and for the wines, ftoxa the simplest to the most perfumed. 

*^ 7th. Let the eating be deliberate, the dinner being the dosing busi- 
ness of the day ; and let the guests consider themselves as travellers 
bound for the same destination. 

^* 8tli. Let the coffee be hot, and the liqaors selected by the master. 

^ 9tb. Let the saloon be spacious enough for those who wish to take 
a hand at cards, and not interfere with the table-talk of the otliers. 

^' 10th. Let the company be detained only by the charm of the society, 
and sustained by the hope that there is always some enjoyment beyond. 

^^ 11th. Let not the tea be too strong; let the butter be carefully spread 
on the toast and the punch properly prepared. 

^' 12th. Let not the company begin to withdraw before eleven, but let 
every one be in bed by twelve. 

*'If any one has been at a party combining these twelve conditions he 
may boast of having assisted at hid own apotheosis.*' 

Surely it must be said that the ethics of eating are but 
very imperfectly understood by the majority of people, who 
see in the act of consumption a purely mechanical and phys- 
iological process. To what cause we must attribute this 
blindness to the highly esthetical character of the common- 
est action of our lives it h difficult to determine. Chris- 
tianity, with its asceticism, can scarcely be charged with the 
fault ; for there is no doubt that wit and wisdom in their 
brightest radiance have flashed over a table spread with the 
homeliest viands, and the simple leek which ffarnisbed the 
refectory-board of a convent has often acquired a new relish 
from the playful humor, shrewd observations, and witty 
words of the serge-clad monks who shared it. Moreover, it 
was no child of Epicurus, no Car6me, Ude, or Very, skilled 
in the niceties and details of the gastronomic art, but one 



94 FOOD AND ITS PRSPARAnoK. [December, 

simple in his habits and aceustomed only to the ordinary 
courses of a domestic table, who uttered this observation, 
replete with philosophy aud redolent of thought and pene- 
tration ; that it Nature had not intended the accessory pleas- 
ures of the table — genial company, good humor, wit, and 
pleasantry — to be almost of equal importance with the 
viands which load it, she would have maae eating a thing to 
be done in secret, apart from the gaze of others, just as we 
perform other purely physiological actions. 

Moreover, it is not the mind alone which is refreshed by 
the feast of reason, for the body feels the wholesome, influ- 
ence through the intermediary of the soul, and there can be 
little doubt that the gastric juice flows in greater abundance 
and of a better quality when the countenance relaxes with a 
joyous smile, and the eye reveals by its merry twinkle the 
hilarity that reigns within. For such results we are indebted 
to the zealous prosecution of gastronomic studies in France. 
But, alas for the tendency of human reason to extremes ! 
extravagances crept into the legitimate domain of cookery, 
and many esteemed it no violation of good taste or morality 
to subject to cruel torment those poor animals which fur- 
nished them the means of i^timulating their flagging appe- 
tites, and this for some trifling advantage. Thus, we all know 
the pates dcfoie gras of Strasbourg are dearly purchased by the 
life-long agonies of the noble but much-injured bird whose 
cackling once saved Rome. Crammed with food, deprived of 
drink, in uncomfortable proximity to a large fire, and nailed 
by its feet to a plank, the poor goose must eke out an exist- 
ence of monotonous suflering till disease has enlarged its 
liver to an enormous size, and then it must die without the 
sad consolation of knowing that it is about to fall a martyr 
in the noble cause of gastronomic science. M. Ude recom- 
mends that eels be cast alive into the fire before they are 
skmned, as thus the unpalatable and indigestible oils may be 
roost efiectually removed. Sheep and calves have been 
allowed to hang for hours in a moribund condition till the 
last life-drop of their bleeding bodies gave earnest that their 
flesh was white and their carcasses anemic. How much 
akin can we not imagine their last earthly meditations to 
have been to those of the eagle in the noble passage of Byron : 

'^ So the straok eagle, stretched upon the plain, 
No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
Views his own feather on the fatal dart 
Which winged the shaft that quiver^) in his heart ; 
Keen are his pangs, but keener far to feel 
He nursed the pinion that impelled the steel.*' 



1866. FOOD ANP ITS f REPARATION. 95 

Surely, in one case as in the other, that which should 
have been an advantage was the fruitful source of death. 
The poor sheep saw the knife whetted for its throat because 
it happened to have juicier and whiter flesh than the wolf or 
the jackal. Later still we had an example of the wrongs 
heaped on the inoffensive turtle, wrongs which, trumpet- 
tongued, cried for redress till th<* law interposed in behalf of 
the suffering amphibion. But fastidious gastrononries went 
farther than this and tyrannically encroached on the inherent 
rights of those who catered to their tastes. All trades and 
professions of men point to the truthful page of history to 
prove the greatness and virtues of the men who have ennobled 
their several avocations. ^ Practitioners in gastronomy can 
point with pride to some illustrious specimens of their race, 
and thus resent with stronger sentiments of indignation any 
attempted curtailment of their natural rights. The name of 
Vatel is connected in the mind of every right thinking chef 
de cuisine with the rarest magnanimity and most exalted 
heroism; in him is personi&ed the true chivalry of the 
spit and the ladle. Madame de Sevign6 relates in her own 
inimitable manner the circumstances which brought the 
brilliant career of the great Cond6*s mature d? hotel to so sad 
an end. It seems the King had been invited to a luncheon, 
the menu of which was entrusted to Vatel, and every possible 

Srovision was made against a contretemps. Some one blun«> 
ered, however; more guests were invited than there had 
been covers set for. ** This," writes de Sevign6, " affected 
Vatel. He said several times, ' I am dishonored ; this is a 
disgrace I cannot endure. He said to Gourville, ^ My head 
is d^zzy ; I have not slept for twelve nights ; assist me in 
giving orders.' Gourville assisted him as much as he could. 
The roast which had been wanting, not at the table of th3 
King, but at the inferior tables, was constantly present 
to bis mind. Gourville mentioned it to the Prince; the 
Prince even went to the chamber of Vatel, and said 
to him : * Vatel, all is going on well ; nothing could 
equal the supper of the King." He replied, '' Monsieur, 
your goodness overpowers me ; I know that the roast was 
wanting at two tables." '* Nothing of the sort," said the 
prince; '*do not distress yourself; all is going on well." 
Night came ; the fireworks failed ; they had cost sixteen 
thousand francs. He rose at four the next morning, deter- 
mined to attend to everything in person. He found every- 
body asleep ; he meets one of the inferior purveyors, who 



96 FOOD AND ITS PREPABATioM. [December, 

brought only two packages of sea fish. He asks, '^ Is that 
all?" "Yes» sir." The man was not aware that Vatel had 
sent to all the seaports. Vatel waits some time. The other 

f)urveyors did not arrive ; his brain began to burn ; he be- 
ieved that there would be no more fish. He finds Gourville ; 
he says to him, •* Monsieur, I shall never survive this dis- 
grace." Gourville made light of it. Vatel goes up stairs to 
his room, places his sword against the door, and stabs himself 
to the heart ; but it was not until the third blow, after giving 
himself two not mortal, that he fell dead. The fish, however, 
arrives from all quarters. They seek Vatel to distribute it ; 
they go to his room ; they knock ; .they force open the door ; 
he is found bathed in blood." Thus with trenchant pen does 
Madame de Sevign^ relate the tragical end of this irre- 
proachable knight of the spit, whose name should shine on 
the calendar of the martyrology. And yet a certain editor of 
the AlmancLch des GourmandSf forgettiug how he had himself 
toiled and sweated amid the din of preparation, proposes to 
reduce to the level of the horse or the ass, and make the 
passive instruments of man's will, those who can point to 
Vatel as their fellow-craftsman. But let us hear how the 
degradation was planned. 

The writer in question, after detailing at length the many 
qualities a good chef should possess, discusses the means for 
preservingintact and unimpaired that most essential one of all 
— a refined delicacy of palate. He says that this faculty is very 
liable to suffer deterioration from the constant inhalation of 
smoke and the numberless vapors which load the atmosphere of 
a kitchen and the necessity of drinking trashy wine to moisten 
a parched throat. Some means, therefore, should be adopted 
to prevent the obtusion of this invaluable sense, lest it be- 
come as callous as the conscience of an old judge. * *' Le seul 
moyen de lui rendre cette fleur qu'il a perdue, de lui faire 
reprendre sa souplesse, sa delicatesse, et ses forces, c^est de 
purger le cuisiqier telle r^sistanc^ qu'il y oppose ; car il en 
est qui, sourds k la voix de la gloire, n'apper^oivent point la 
n^cessit^ de prendre medicine lorsquMls ne se sentent pas ma- 
lades." As well propose that we employ the same means to 
make our footmen and coachmen look genteel, and should 
they rebel tell them that they misapprehend the glory of their 
calling. These refinements are not in the right direction, 
but savor of the excesses of gastronomy in the days of Lu- 
'cullus and Nero. 

The cookery of France may, therefore, be viewed as that 



1866.] FOOD AND ITS PRKPARATIOK. 97 

which so far made the nearest approach to perfection. But, 
it may be asked, is it built on scientific principles? does it 
view the qualities of food in relation with the physiological 
requirements of the system ? or is it guided solely by the 
appetency of the palate? These are questions which affect 
the very essence cff cookery ; for if they are ignored the Hin- 
doo who loves rancid butter in his mess is as good a cook as 
Very or (jar^me, since he conforms to the same standard. 
We do not require that a cook be an accomplished physiolo- 
gist; indeed, such a claim would be preposterous; but we 
insist that the broad distinctions which prevail in science and 
the effects of the various classes of food on the system should 
be known by him. For this means he should be en rapport 
with men of science, so that whatever discovery the labora- 
tory might give to the world he would be the first to know it, 
and let men enjoy its benefits practically before the theory 
had reached them. The cook is our physician while we are 
in good health ; and just as we condemn the doctor who pre- 
scribes meJicine without understanding its operation on the 
system, and accuse him of routinery, so we should judge our 
cooks by what they know of the effects of the various classes 
of food on our bodies. How astonished a cKefde cuisine would 
be were we to tell him that food serves a double purpose in the 
animal economy, the one to supply to the living tissues need- 
ful repair, and the other to generate heat; that it has been 
divided in view of these lunctions into calorifacient and 
nitrogenized or histogenetio (tissue-making); that the 
former contains hydrogen and carbon in abundance, two 
highly combustible substances, and the latter nitrogen ; that 
the juices of the mouth digest one group of the former — 
starch and kindred substances — while the fats and oils of 
the same class, after their passage through the stomach, are 
digested by the bile, and that the nitrogenous food is acted 
on by the secretions of the stomach. 

These are simple facts of science, and it is not difficult 
to see of what great importance they are, practically. 
Calorification and nutrition are constantly taking place, and 
materials for both processes must be constantly supplied. 
But if our cook is not aware of this, what is to prevent him 
from presenting us. with an excess of one class and a dearth 
of the other ? How can he tell the proportion of each the 
system requires ? Many cooks use pork and other fats in the 
preparation of sauces and rare dishes ; and yet we have the 
authority of the most distinguished chemical physiologists 
VOL. XVI. — NO. xxvu. 7 



98 FOOD AND m PREPARATION. [December, 

for stating that fat greatiy retards the process of digestion. 
** It is sufSciently clear," says Professor C. G. Selimann, of 
Leipsic, *^from what has been previously stated that the 
stomach is not the place where the fat is resorbed, or even 
where it undergoes any essential changes, but when it is taken 
in large quantity, either alone or with other food, it usually 
remains for a long time in the stomach. Thus Beaumont 
found beef suet in St. Martin's stomach after five and a 
half hours. It is not only not digested in the stomach, bnt 
often exerts an impeding action on the digestion of other 
substances in that organ, since on the one hand it liquefies in 
consequence of the high temperature, and encasing, as it were, 
the individual particles of food, renders them proof against 
the digestive juices ; and since on the other it becomes rancid 
during its long retention at that temperature, and forms 
volatile acids, which exert a very deleterious although not 
duly investigated action on digestion. It must therefore be 
admitted that much fat is prejudicial to gastric digestion." 

Again, gelatin, which forms the basis of all jellies and is so 
important an item in the kitchen repertory, has been 
proved to contain little or no nutriment, but merely flatters 
the palate, while it fails to assimilate with the tissues of the 
body. Extensive experiments have been made to test the 
nutritive qualities or this substance, all of which gave the 
same result. Gelatin has been extracted in large quantity 
from bones and served in various shapes to prisoners and the 
inmates of charitable institutions ; but those who were thus 
fed became rapidly emaciated and soon refused their meals 
with loathing. Yet jellies are deemed indispensable to the iu- 
tegrity of an elaborate menUf and often a cook is selected for 
the skill with which he prepares those illusions of the table. 
In like manner ignorance of the physiological action of 
certain vegetables on the system leaas the majority of cooks 
to treat those wholesome esculents in such a manner as to 
nullify their health-giving properties. How seldom do we 
see potatoes served whole ? Soft as they are they must be 
crushed to a pulpous mass, and the fibres which stimulate 
the mucous secretions of the intestin canal and give tone to 
its muscular coat utterly destroyed. The pestal and mortar 
should be left to the apothecary, nature having provided ample 
Aubstituition in sound molars and trituration by the stomach. 

Food ought to combine digestibility and nutrition, and 
whatever mode of preparation ensures the former at the 
smallest possible expense oi the latter is of necessity the 



1866.] FOOD AND ITS PREPA&ATIOK. 99 

best. Yet we question whether the problem ever presented 
itself for practical solution in the kitchen. Pate de/oie gras 
is to the gastronome's heaven what black-^yed houris are to 
a Mahometan paradise ; but, though liver as well as all un- 
striped muscular tissue, be far more digestible than fibrous 
muscle, it is far from being so nutritious. Under-done meats 
contain more nutrient matter than those well done, but 
they tax the digestive power of the stomach to a much 
greater degree. If these principles be not understood by 
the cook, how can he strike the happy mean beyond or on 
this side of which gastronomic orthoaoxy cannot exist, how 
shall he comprehend the value of the golden rule, in medio tu^ 
tissimus ibis f 

We had a good practical illustration of the value of these 
principles in the respective modes of cooking employed 
by the French and English soldiers during the Crimean 
war. The English soldier, sterile in devices, took his 
chunk of raw meat, and, having no more than warmed 
it on some embers, devoured it in without sauce or season- 
ing. This mass of raw meat requiring a long time and an 
abundance of gastric juce for itii digestion kept the stomach 
in a state of undue activity and greatly impaired the tone of 
that organ. Moreover, the nutriment being present in a con- 
centrated shape, only a portion of the stomach could work 
much of its inner surface, which is distended by food of 
proper bulk remaining in folds. On the other hand, the 
Frenchman, always ready in contrivances, scoured the fields 
for roots and herbs to boil with his allowance of meat, and, 
as if by magic, produced from his limited resources a whole- 
some and BSYory potage. These facts were noticed by the 
officers of the British army, but the difference could not be 
helped, since with respect to their men it was the result of & 
discipline which treated them as irrational automata rather 
thaa intelligent beings. Though numberless other proofs 
might be adduced demonstrating the necessity of making 
physiology the ground-work of scientific cookery, enough for 
our purpose has been said. We refer those who are par- 
ticularly interested in the question to the writings of Liebig, 
Lehmann and RegnauU. Indeed, the question is beginning 
to be understood in France ; and with the rage for improve- 
ment which marks the progress of every art, we doubt not 
that the world will soon see emanate from the laboratory a 
new system of cookery free from the empiricism and super- 
stitions of the past. 



100 FOOD AND ITS PREPARATioif. [December, 

The custom, almost universal in France, of winding up 
the several courses of a dinner with a little cup of choice 
Mocha is certainly an advance on the rule which still pre- 
vails in many places of washing down with steamini^ punch, 
and is entirely conformable with the requirements of the sys- 
tem under the circumstances. Reaction follows the momen- 
tary stimulation of the punch, and the habit of indulging in 
a siesta is thereby engendered which infallibly leads to obes- 
ity. On the other hand, the coffee awakens the system from 
the lethargy caused by the pressure of food on the plexures 
of nerves in and around the stomach, and evokes a gentle 
action which dispels somnolency and leaves unimpaired the 
delightful consciousness of satiety, than which there is no 
greater purely animal bliss. Moreover, the immunity it af- 
fords against drowsiness does no violence to the most deli- 
cately strung nerves It is no fretful wakefulness, followed 
by stupor and torpidity ; but a sense of well-being, from 
which, if needs be, one can pass into the most tranquil slum- 
ber and wake up refreshed in mind and body. This advan- 
tage is felt more decidedly by persons leading sedentary lives, 
and whose minds are constantly on the stretch. If experi- 
ence has not already demonstrated to these the pleasure and 
advantage to be derived from such use of this invigorating 
narcotic, we would by all means recommend them to adopt 
the practice at once. 

The practice, too— which is, however, not confined 
to France— -of commingling vegetables and meat in such 
proportion as to give proper bulk to the food in the 
stomach is in entire accordance with the facts of phys- 
iology. We know that enough nitrogenous food, to which 
class are referred meat, cheese, and eggs — that is, fibrin, ca- 
sein, and albumen— -cannot be received into the stomach to 
distend that organ to the required capacity, so that the 
lighter and less nutrient articles of the calorifacient class, such 
as bread, vegetables, sugar, and the various condiments of 
the table, must be added to increase the bulk and allow the 
stomach to pour its excretions from its entire mucous sur- 
face. This proper admixture of both kinds of food is so es- 
sential that even instinct teaches its necessity ; and in some 
savage countries where the inhabitants live on meat alone 
they eat sawdust and clay to give suitable bulk to their food. 
Moreover, Nature, in the wise distribution of her gifts over 
the various latitudes of the earth, has shown the proportion 
of each suited to the requirements of the sytem under the 



1866.) FOOD AND ITS PREPARATION. 101 

varying circumstanccB of temperature and occupation. The 
barren soil of Labrador yields no fruits, nor do its fields wave 
in autumn with the golden-eared wheat ; but the walrus, 
the whale, and the white be»r afford an abundance of fat and 
oil, the only alimentary substances which can in those cli- 
mates support a proper degree of heat in the body. As a 
consequence, however, of the deficiency of a vegetable diet 
the people of these latitudes are dwarfed and wizened, and 
incapable of bearing fatigue. On the other hand, tropical 
climates abound in every species of fruit and vegetable, of- 
fering to the eye and palate a most bountiful and tempting 
variety ; and though the animals are not few in species or 
number, they dwell for the most part in the swamp, the for- 
est, or the jungle, and seldom fall victims to man's gastron- 
omy. The wisdom of this dispensation can be seen at a 
glance. In warm latitudes a diet is demanded which will 
contain just enough nutriment to supply the small amount of 
waste occasioned by the limited muscular action the heat 
and langour of the tropics permit, but an abundance of the 
coolest respiratory food, such as fruits and vegetables. 
Here we find the result such as we might expect from 
the deficiency of animal food and the preponderance ot 
carbo-hydrates ; the frame is developed to its normal capac- 
ity, but indolence and langour replace the excitability which 
belongs to the consumers of beef and mutton. As we depart 
from the tropics the disproportion decreases till finally the 
varying temperature of our climate* now cold, now hot, calls 
for an equal proportion of heat-generating and life-giving 
food. In all this Nature has set us an elample we can never 
too closely study, and the dishes of each latitude should be a 
miniature representation of the favors she has bestowed with 
sparing or lavish hand in every clime. The Laplander finds 
in oil or fat, which oxydizes with rapidity in the system, as 
efiectual a protection against the rigors of an Arctic winter 
as that afforded by the skin of the beaver, the mink, or the 
sable, but he must suffer che penalty of extremes. As he 
knows not the beautiful succession of seasons which consti- 
tutes the charm of our temperate latitudes, neither can he 
share their varied products, and his physique lacks full devel- 
opment. Mutatis mutandisj the same may be said of those 
who swelter beneath a tropical sun. In temperate climes 
alone, therefore, manhood has reached the. highest point of 
development ; and here alone we find a due proportion of 
those elements of diet which science and experience have 



102 FOOD AND ITS PREPABATioN. [December, 

E reclaimed to be best adapted to the requirements of the 
uman system. 
In considering the preparation of food for immediate con- 
sumption as an art not undeserving man's attention, this 
conformity to Nature's scheme should be regarded as that 
immutable principle which must underlie every art and give 
it a character of its own. Indeed, Ni^ture has employed a 
rather sharp monitor to remind us of our duty in this respect, 
and every violation of 'her ordinances is visited by a special 
retribution. An excess of the nitrogenous class ot sub- 
stances, especially meat and concentrated nutriments, pro- 
duces a peculiar liability to gout, calculus, &c., which is due 
to the imperfect change those highly organized substances 
have undergone in the system, and their consequent inter- 
ference with the action of the joints and the kidneys. Of 
course this tendency is apt to be more prevalent among those 
of the wealthy, who are gastronomes without discrimination, 
and who forget that while devouring the most highly nutri- 
tive and appetizing dishes they are laying the foundation of 
future excruciation. Dr. Carpenter* states that previous to 
the general use of the potato as an element of vegetable diet 
the gouty class of diseases were far more common than 
at the present time. Nor need we wonder at this, since, 
in those days, men lived during the whole winter season on 
bread, meat, and the various preparations of flour, in all 
which the nitrogenous element was in undue excess. 

The introduction of the potato changed all this, and its 
universal use has njainly contributed to the marked dim- 
inution of the gout. On the other hand, when, in a tem- 
perate clime, the system is surcharged with olei^inous 
food a bilious diathesis is engendered — a fact which may be 
noticed in the western part of our country, where fat pork 
is consumed in large quantities. Bilious fevers, congestion 
of the liver, and the various diseases consequent on the 
derangement of that organ, are the penalty, therefore, of 
exclusLveness in this respect. If the rarinaceous or starchy 
group predominate — ^a circumstance very likely to occur in 
the dietaries of the poor — a new train of evils arises. The 
defect of the nitrogenous principle is readily perceived in 
the imperfect development of the frame in those who are 
forced to subsist on a purely farinaceous diet, and their 
great liability to suffer from current diseases, especially 
epidemics. The starving populations of India are a sad 

« Brit, aad For. lied. Chir. Baview, vol. yi, pp. 76 and 899. 



186^.] rooi> AND ire preparatiok. 108 

illastration of this truth. The few grains of rice they re- 
eeive, barely sufficient to support lite, leave them an easy 
prey to the fevers and epidemics which sweep them off by 
thousands. In China, likewise, fleshless frames covered 
with unhealthy skin — ^the constant seat of loathsome diseases 
— attest the inability of the farinaceous class of food to give 
vigor to the body and richness to. the blood. 

Experience teaches us that where the oily group of nutri- 
ents is wanting scrofula is the common sequel. The preva- 
lence of this constitutional disorder among the poorer classes 
may be accounted for by the absence of meat from their 
tables altogether, or the use of salt meats from which the 
long action of brine has removed much of the free fat. 
But science has failed, so far, to accounn satisfactorily for the 
necessity of fresh vegetables* at least during that portion of 
the year when they are in season. We all know that sailors 
are especially prone to suffer from scurvy, which is as 
much a vice of the constitution as any of the maladies we 
have mentioned ; and yet it cannot be said that they are 
deprived of those articles of diet which science has proved 
to be essential to a sound state of health* They have rice 
and meat and the various preparations of ^our, in which 
dietary are found albumen, hydrogen, and carbon — those 
elements which chemical physiologists tell ufi suffice to 
maintain the functions of nutrition, respiration, and calorifi* 
cation. Yet scurvy is the inevitable consequence of con- 
tinued abstinence from a vegetable diet, and its only cure 
is a liberal allowance of fresh fruit and vegetables in season. 
So well was this fact known in former days, when sea 
voyages were much longer than to-day and scurvy conse- 
quently a far more common disorder, that an exclusively 
vegetable diet for some time previous to going to sea was 
prescribed, and vegetables were commonly known in medi- 
cine as anti-scorbutics. All these facts constitute the 
strongest proof that nature is our surest guide in the selec- 
tion and due proportionment of the various articles of food 
which should enter into a well-regulated dietetic scale. 

It is not hazardous to say that the dreadful ravages of con- 
sumption might be stayed to a far greater extent if some means 
were adopted to regulate diet in accordance with the principles 
we have mentioned. It is well known that among the filthy 
savages who inhabit extreme northern latitudes all the condi- 
tions which among us are believed to concur in the develop- 
ment and spread of consumption exist in a greatly exagger- 



104 FOOD AND rra preparation. [December, 

ated form. Thus the poison of ochlesis^ or overcrowding, is 
generated in a more excessive degree and with more viru- 
lence where the habitations are under ground and whole 
families are swarmed into the narrowest quarters. Besides, 
the habits of the people are exceedingly filthy, no attention 
being paid to personal cleanliness. Yet, despite these favor- 
iqg circumstances, consum,ption is almost unknown among 
them, and they are free from the disorders of scrofula.* We 
see no more probable cause to which to attribute this un- 
looked-for result than the great predominance of oleaginous 
substances in their diet. Physicians have profited by 
the lesson, and they now administer cod-liver oil for 
the purpose of preventing or arresting the deposition <5f 
tubercles in the system. The same lesson may be drawn 
from every page of nature's book, and she even exhibits to 
us compendious pictures iu which are resumed the great 
principles of her teaching. Of this we have a most remark- 
able instance in the adaptation of the soil of every climate 
to the production of wheat — the only article which embraces 
the three elements we have just seen are essential to the 
maintenance of the various functions of the system. It con- 
tains gluten, which refers it to the albumenous or nitrogenous 
class, an abundance of*starch, and a smalt proportion of veg- 
etable oil ; maize, especially, abounds in the latter^^ Bread, 
then, may be well called the staff of life, since it combines in 
itself the various qualities and conditions which both science 
and experience have demonstrated to be essential to the sup- 
port ot animal life. The proportion of oleaginous matter is, 
however, very small, and the addition of some oily substance 
is necessary that the prop3r degree of heat may be mam- 
tained. This, however, is easily procured, and though, owmg 
to the peculiar laws of commerce in highly civilized commu- 
nities, good butter may command an unreasonably high price, 
among those tribes wlio live in the simplicity of nature 
this difficulty does not exist. Thus, among the Hindoos, 
gheCf or rancid butter, is the commonest article of diet, and 
train-oil and blubber abound among the savages of northern 
latitudes. 

These are briefly the results which science and expe- 
rience have reached m reference to the substances which 
contribute to raise the standard of human health to the 
highest point, and in so doing best fit man for the fulfilment 

*S6e Dr. Schkisner'B ** Island nndcrsdgt fra Ifiegevidenskabeligt Syuspunct," 
or Beport on the aanitarjr Condition of Iceland. 



1866.] POOD AND ITS PREPARATION. 105 

of his manifold duties. As we before remarkerl, it is diffi- 
cult to determine the influence the diet-scales of different 
ages and nations may have exercised on their health and 
longevity, since communities will not conform to the 
laws reason may have prescribed. However, of this result 
we are certain, that civilization end refinement, and the intel- 
lectual activity which characterizes civilized communities, 
exist in proportion to the regard men pay to the principles of 
sound physiology. Coarseness of mind and feature and a 
general approach to the brute creation may be noticed 
among those who violate every principle of science and 
nature in the choice and preparation of their food. Canni- 
bals are but a step from beasts ; and even amon^; ourselves 
how easy it is to detect the evidence of insufficient, ill- 
chosen, or ill-prepared food among the poor and degraded. 
Ungainly features, deformities, and repulsive looks, with a 
strong tendency to indulge every bad passion, are the com- 
mon attributes of those who live iu violation of the rules of 
hygi«?ne. When revolutions shake the social fabric to its 
centre, when the laws are set at defiance, and men's passions 
rule, we then see come forth from their dark hiding-places, 
the slums and reeking alleys of a city, fienusin humati shape, 
men and women whose base passions are written on their 
brows ; we see them foremost in the work of death and 
destruction. What has reduced these wretched creatures to 
this beastly level ? The social economist will say corrupt 
at>sociations and a bad moral training. But surely such influ- 
ences cannot alone have produced those sinister features, the 
coarse and brutal appearance, which seem to be bred in the 
very marrow of their bones. 

Incomplete as may be our present knowledge with refer- 
ence to the best regimen that could be adopted, two cir- 
cumstances will always probably prevent the good results 
which might be looked for — want of fresh air and tlie adul- 
terations so generally practised by those who prepare the 
different alimentary substances — and defeat the teachings of 
physiology. In respect to the former circumstance, the 
poor — at least those who spend the greater part of their lives 
in the open air — are much better off' than the favorites of for- 
tune who constantly breathe an artificial atmosphere and 
remain carefully housed up many hours each day. It cer- 
tainly never entered into nature's plan that the air which is 
so essential to the enrichment of the blood should be robbed 
ot a great portion ot its oxygen by being confined within 



106 FOOD AKD ITS PREPARAnoN. [December, 

walls and allowed to circulate very imperfectly. Yet the 
condition of our social life almost requires this, and few re- 
flect how much they are doing to impair their vigor and 
shorten their lives when they meet in halls or salons for mu- 
tual enjoyment and social intercourse. This, however, is a 
circumstance which the influence of those who are appointed 
to watch over the public health might do much to modify. 

But what power can reach the unscrupulous manufacturer 
of bread, liquors, tea, cofiee, mustard, pickles, preserves, con- 
fections, &c., &c. ? Ever since Accum wrote his now almost 
forgotten book " There's Death in the Pot" the public have 
been aware that the most fraudulent practices are r^orted 
to by manufacturers to deteriorate the quality of their re- 
spective wares and so swell their ill-gotten gains. Some 
years as^o a commission was appointed in London to report on 
the adulterations practised, and the result is truly astounding. 
It shows that there is scarcely an article we consume which 
does not contain some poisonous admixture. In Paris the 
same task was undertaken by M. Chevallier and with the same 
result. In vain will writers on hygiene demonstrate the 
necessity of employing certain articles of diet to the exclu- 
sion of others when the shops offer for sale this same article 
envenomed with a ranker poison than the most unhygienic 
or indigestible trash. 

If cofiee contained nothing but a little infusion of 
chicory we should have no reason to complain ; but when 
we find this chicory adulterated with the most disgusting 
ingredients, we almost feel ttiat the fragrance of our 
Mocha comes to us laden with poison. Boasted wheat, 
ground acorns, roasted carrots, scorched beans, roasted pars- 
nips, mangold-wurzel, lupin seeds, red earth, roasted horse- 
chestnuts,and, horrilnle diciUy baked horses' and bullocks' livers 
— these are, as we are informed by competent authorities, the 
ingredients which have been detected in different samples of 
cofiee. ** In various parts of London," savs Mr. P. G. Sim- 
mondsy in a work entitled ^Coffee as it is and as it Ought to be/ 
** but more especially in the east, are to be found Miver bak- 
ers.' These men take the livers of oxen and horses, bake 
them, and grind them into a powder which they sell to the 
low-priced coffee-shop keepers at from 4d. to 6d. per pound, 
horses' liver coffee being the highest priced. It may be 
known by allowing the cofiee to stand until cold, when a 
thick pellicle, or skin, would be found on the top. It goes 
farther than coffee and is generally mixed with chicory and 
other vegetable imitations of coffee." 



1866.] FOOD AND ITS PRBPARATIOK. lOt 

We give this as a s]>eciinen of the nefarioafl practices in 
vogue, though we might fill a volume with half the facts. 
Tea is a still more common article of consumption than 
coffee, and so the devices by which substitutions and falsifi- 
cations are procured are more numerous and ingenious. Of 
fifty samples of green tea analyzed by Dr. Hassall, all were 
adulterated. He found in all sand, tea-dust, broken-down por- 
tions of other leaves, black-lead, Prussian blue, turmeric, 
and French chalk. Of this tea about 750,000 pounds are 
annually imported. 

Bakers' bread is the fruitful source of dyspepsia, owing to 
the astringent properties of the alum, which it contains in ex- 
cessive quantity. The alum absorbs water freely, and the 
weight of the bread is thereby much increased. Anyone 
acquainted with the action of alum on the coats of the stom- 
ach will comprehend the pernicious effects which are likely 
to follow from the ingestion of bread impregnated with this 
substance. If the truth were known, many cases of chronic 
dyspepsia might be attributed to this cause. 

But it is in pickles and preserves especially that these adul- 
terations have assumed a truly alarming shape. The brightly 
tinted green of pickled fruits is the result of the free use of 
verdigris or sulphate of copper, ten grains of which suffice to 
produce the most violent emesis. This Dr. Hassall proved to 
the entire satisfaction of those who have looked over the pages 
of his books. Indeed, anyone may test the matter for himself 
by taking a bright knitting-needle and allowing it to rest for 
a short time in the vinegar, and on withdrawing it he will find 
it coated with a layer of verdigris, thick or thin, according to 
the amount of the metal present. 

Sugar is no freer from the manipulations of unconscientious 
dealers, and we will briefly give the analysis of some speci- 
mens tested by ourselves. Brown sugar contains a very ap- 
preciable quantity of wheat flour, slighty embrowned by fire ; 
and, under the microscope, miriads of sugar insects were seen 
to crowd the field of view. White sugar is clarified by means 
of the albumen of bullock's blood, and though in the process 
of manufacture this substance may be closely incorporated 
with the sugar, it is easily separated by chemical means. 

We do no more here than merely advert to a subject 
«vbich it would require a volume to exhaust, and this for the 
purpose of showing the many difficulties which on every side 
beset the efforts of those who wish to rescue the remote and im- 
mediate preparation of food from the hands of ignorant em- 



108 HUNOART, HER LITERATT7RE AND HER PROSPECTS. [December, 

Sines and bring it within the domain of science. If this 
esirable consummation be reached the world will have rea- 
son to congratulate itself, and those who would attperse the 
character ot a science which labors for the good of the race 
will disappear from the army of croakers who are ever ready 
to predict discomfiture to those who undertake beneficial 
reforms. 



Art. V. — 1. Geschichte der Magyaren (History of the Magyars). 
Von JoHASN Grafen Mailath. 6 vols. Wien. 

2. Handbuch der Ungar-Poesie (HaDdbook of Hungarian Poetry). 

Femeryet Toldy. 2 vols. Pesth. 

3. Dissertatio de origine Eungrorum (Dissertation oa the Origin 

of the HungariaDs). FicHer. 

4. Poetry of the Magyars, preceded by a Commentary on the 

Language and Literature of Hungary and Transylvania, 
By J OHN Bo WRING. London. 

5. Essai historique sur Vorigine des HongroU, Par Auguste dk 

Gerando. Paris. 

6. A' Magyar Literatura esm^rete (Knowledge of the Magyar 

Lituraiure). Irta Papay Samuel. VVestprim. 

7. Analyticce Listitutiones Linguw HungariccB, BudaB. 

The results already accomplished by the recent war be- 
tween Austria and Prussia are more important than either of 
the belligerents themselves had anticipated. Prussia was 
both confident and sanguine, but she admits herself that she 
has gained much more than she had expected. Austria saw 
no reason why she should fear Prussia; she thought it possi- 
ble, indeed, that a portion of her army might not prove 
faithful in the hour of peril ; but she did not regard it as 
probable in. view of certain concessions she had lately made. 
But she had not fought many battles when she was undeceived 
on this point, and hence her readiness not only to accede to 
the most important demands of Prussia, but also to surrender 
all she had left of Italy. ' 

It was natural enough that Prussia should claim all the 
honor for herself; it was due, she said, to her needle-gun 
and to the superior discipline of her troops. Austria thought 
it as prudent not to dispute the point ; and, accordingly, 
such has been the explanation generally adopted both in 
Europe and America. It is not the true one, however. 
As the excitement of the war is passing away and the statis- 



1866.] HUKOART, HER LTTEBATURS AKD HER PROSPECTS, 109 

tics are brioging the real facts to light it is fonnd that Hun- 
gary has had much more to do with the humiliation of Aus- 
tria than the needle-gun or any superiority on the part of 
the Prussian troops. For obvious reasons both the belliger- 
ents would rather conceal this. Be it remembered that 
Prussia retains a considerable portion of Poland ; she has 
DOW parts of other nationalities under her control ; and it is 
clearly not her interest to point out even to the most thought- 
less of them what a severe blow they could inflict on her 
when she was most in need of their aid. 

Thus it is that we hear so little either from the Austrians 
or the Prussians of the course pursued by the Hungarian 
contingent in all the principal battles. But the occurrences 
which took place were far too important to be concealed. 
The reporters of the press might be deceived easily enough 
as to the result of two or three battles ; but there were 
French, English, and Belgian officers in both armies. These 
agree almost unanimously in the statement that whole regi- 
ments of Hungarians were captured without making any 
serious eSbrt to defend themselves or their colors ;^aBd their 
testimony is fully confirmed by the official reports on both < 
sides. 

As an illustration of this we need only mention that in in- 
stances in which the loss of Austria was estimated at from 
50,000 to 60,000 in killed, wounded, and missing, a little 
investigation showed that the missing amounted to more 
than half the entire number, and that four-fifths of this half 
were Hungarians. ' The question is not now whether or not it 
was right or wrong on the part of the Magyars to desert in this 
way ; suffice it to remark, in passing, that if they voluntarily 
entered the service of Austria and swore without any com- 
pulsion or coercion that they would faithfully aid her 
against her enemies, no political motives could justify 
them in acting in the manner indicated. It is but justice 
to the Magyars, however, to say that, far from volunteer- 
ing into the Austrian service, three-fourths of them were 
conscripted ; even those who enlisted voluntarily were in- 
duced to do so because they were poor and needed what they 
were ofiered for their services. There is yet another fact 
which must not be forgotten. When the Magyars were over* 
powered and crushed in 1849, they solemnly declared before 
the world that they would avenge themselves at another time, 
and do so perhaps before they were entirely in a condition to 
establish their independence. Further than this we have to 



110 HUNOART, HER LnsRATURB AND HER PROSPECTS. [December, 

do only with the fact, whether the Magyars deserted 
in large numbers from the Austrian army; it is esti- 
mated that not fewer than 75,000 thus withdrew, in one 
form or other, when they were most needed, and it is 
understood that in several instances they did far more mischief 
than their mere retirement would have caused. 

This conduct on the part of the Hungarians audits effect on 
Austria teach valuable lessons. Russia and Englandas well as 
Austria and Prussia may learn from them that irreparable inj ury 
may be inflicted upon them, by those on whom they force their 
yoke, without any insurrection. All know that Hungary has 
seldom been more *' tranquil " than it was during the late 
war ; but it is not the less true that in the midst of this 
tranquillity she has inflicted a more severe blow on Austria 
than she did when in open and successful rebellion, threaten- 
ing to capture Vienna and forcing the Emperor to retire to 
a place where his person might be more secure. 

We do not take up the subject now, however, on accountof 
the moral influence of the Austro-Prussian war on the diflTerent 
Powers mentioned ; we do so because the results of that 
war have revived the hopes and brightened the prospects of 
the Magyars, and at the same time revived the interest which 
for various reasons every intelligent person must over feel in 
the destinies of that brave and spirited people. If it be urged 
that the Magyars are not likely to have such an opportunity 
of securing their independence again for a quarter of a cen- 
tury as they had in 1849, when they were able to bring into 
the field one of the finest armies that Europe could produce, 
we think it is a sufficient reply that although Austria was 
much stronger then than she is now she found herself utterly 
unable to suppress the rebellion, and that if it was sup- 
pressed finally it was only with the aid of a large Russian 
army. Even with the assistance of the latter she would 
have found it a difficult task to subdue the Magyars had 
they not been betrayed by some of their own generals. 

The object of the present article, however, is not to dis- 
cuss the political condition or history of the Magyars ; this 
we have done on a former occasion.* What we chiefly pro- 
pose to ourselves now is to show that the Magyars have 
stronger claims on our sympathy and esteem than their being 
an oppressed people celebrated for their valor and other 
noble qualities. There are but few, especially in this coun- 
try, who are aware that they possess an interesting and copi- 
ous literature as well as a rich and peculiar language. 

* See Nat. Q. Bey. for Sept., I860, art. Hungary Past and Present. 



1866.] HUNGARY, HBR LITBRATUBB AND HSR PR38PE0TS. HI 

Nothing exhibits the genius of a people or gives a more 
accurate idea of the degree of civilization to which they have 
attained better than their poetry ; nor is there any better 
criterion whereby to form an opinion of their political aspira- 
tions. We will therefore give vh many specimens of Hun- 
garian poetry in this paper as we can make room for ; but 
before doing so we will allude briefly to the ethnological 
character of the people. 

Their own most learned and most patriotic historians 
admit that the origin both of themselves and their language 
is doubtful. Others, however, claim that they are descended 
from the ancient Egyptians ;* but the majority of the Magyars 
themselves claim that they are descended from the Huns. 
It is somewhat remarkable that they are proud of this origin 
and place Attila at the head ot their list of national heroes 
under the name Etfela. This is all the more wondered at 
by foreigners, because the Huns were proverbially ill-look- 
ing and repulsive ; whereas.no people in Europe have finer 
forms than the Maygars, both their men and women being - 
remarkable for their symmetry and beauty. 

It is true that they do not believe that the Huns were 
so repulsive in person and features as our historians represent 
them ; this they explain by telling us that the terror excited 
by the prowess of their ancestors caused them to seem in 
their person the reverse of what they were. But Gibbon 
was not influenced by terror when he wrote his History ; 
nor was he likely to draw his materials from those who were. 
Heis also as free from the imputation of ethnological prejudice 
as perhaps any other historian ; but the picture he gives of 
Attila, is nevertheless, sufficiently repulsive. " His features," 
says Gibbon, *' bore the stamp of his national origin ; and 
the portrait of Attila exhibits the genuine deformity of a 
modem Calmuk ; a large head, a swarthy complexion, small, 
deep-seated eyes, a flat nose, a few hairs in the place of a 
beard, broad shoulders, and a short, square body ot immense 
strength, though of a disproportionate form."t Nothing can 
be more difierent from this than the national portrait oi the 
Magyars ; but it is proper to add that if Gibbon represents 
Attila as deformed m person, he does not denjr him some of 
the characteristics of a great warrior. •* The haughty step and 
demeanor of the King of the Huns,'' he says, " expressed the 
consciousness of his superiority above the rest of mankind; and he 

* GonJectuTO de origine prima sede et iiogua Hnngaroram.— T. Thomas, 
t Decline and Fall of B. £., yol. ill, p. 889. 



lie HUNGARY, HER UTERATTTRE AND HER PROSPECTS. [December, 

had a custom of fiercely rolling his eyes, as if he wished to 
enjoy the terror which he inspired. Yet this savage hero was 
not inaccessible to pity ; his suppliant enemies might con- 
fide in the assurance of peace or pardon ; and Attila was 
considered by his subjects as a just and indulgent master."* 

These are the features which please the Hungarians; 
they say that Attila was brave and generous ; that he was a 
great warrior and a good sovereign, and that it is nothing to 
them what he was besides. Whatever his real character 
was, certain it is that his deeds have exercised considerable 
influence on the poetry of the Magyars; next to female 
beauty they have proved the most prolific source of inspira- 
tion to the Magyar poets ; and in this we are bound to be- 
lieve that they have exercised a corresponding influence on 
the military characteristics of the people. 

Although nothing further is known with certainty of the 
origin of the Magyar people than that the majority of those 
who have taken any interest in the investigation claim to 
have traced them to the Caucasian mountains, patriotic 
Magyars have at different times travelled through a large part 
of Asia with no other object than to discover the cradle of 
the race. Among those who have thus distinguished them- 
selves in our own time are John Charles de Besse and Csoma 
de KOrOs. The former devoted the years 1829 and 1830 to 
the pious search, confining his inquiries principally to the 
Caucasus, every inhabited spot of which he visited. Nor 
did he do so in vain ; for he tells us that he found several 
tribes who not only called themselves Magyars, but stated 
many facts' which showed that they knew from tradition that 
certain clans of the race had conquered large territories in the 
heart of Europe, in which they settled with their families. 
He found that they had also a tradition of a city named 
Magyara, built by their ancestors, and the ruius of which 
are still to be seen in the desert to the southeast of Astrakan. 
K6r5s extended his researches to India, and spent years in 
learning several Oriental languages in order that he might be 
the better qualified to accomplish his self-imposed task. In 
consulting the historians of Arabia, Persia, and Turkey, he 
found traces of a people called lugur, Ougur^ or Wtt^ufy who 
had formerly inhabited some of the central plains of Asia, 
which are now embraced in Thibet. 

We refer to these facts not because we think them ot 

o Decline and FaU of B. E., vol iii, p. 889. 



1866.] HUNGABT, HIR LITBRATURS AND HER PROSPECTS. 113 

much value in themselves, but in order to show how much 
that is romantic — how much that is poetical — there is in 
the story of the Magyar people. It is true that they are 
not peculiar in claiming a very high antiquity ; the most vul- 
gar tribes of Europe have made similar pretensions. If we 
are to regard the Magyars as the Huns, as they wish them- 
selves, they established themselves in Pannonia (now Hun-, 
gary) so early as the beginning of the fifth century, having 
expelled the G-oths ; but whether they were the Huns or 
not, it is beyond question that they had possession of the 
country at the beginning of the ninth century. It is proper 
to add that among the historians who deny that they are 
Huns is Gibbon, who was well aware that they claimed that 
descent for themselves ; his opinion is that they are of Turk- 
ish origin, and he is sustained in it by Fussier and others. 
M. L^on Vaisse, in discussing the same subject, remarks that 
to this day the Turks of (Constantinople call them bad broth- 
ers, because it was they who closed the West against the 
Ottoman armies. Passing over the theories of Probst and 
Fejer, who have endeavored to prove that the Magyars are 
the descendants of the ancient Parthians,* who proved them- 
selves so formidable to the Romans when the latter were at 
the zenith of their power, we come to consider them briefly 
as a European people. 

We will make an observation or two on this point before 
we commence our extracts from the poet, because even the 
modern history of the Magyars is knowA but to few. The 
general impression is, that the subject condition of Hungary 
is but of recent origin, and that the country has been seized 
upon in some treacherous or unjust way by Austria, the 
same as Poland has been seized by Russia, Prussia, and 
Austria ; but as our object is not to laud the Magyars or 
any other people further than their history and character 
seem to deserve it, we wish to correct those erroneous views. 
The truth is that so early as the time of Charlemagne Hun- 
gary was annexed to the G-erman empire, although soon 
after the death of that monarch (920) it became an independ- 
ent kingdom. Even then it was by no means strong. In 
the middle of the eleventh century it was overrun by the 
Poles ; nearly a century later it suffered still worse from the 
Tartars, under the sons of Jenghis Khan. Yet they were 
scarcely treated worse by either than by their own sovereigns. 

* See Adelmig's Miikridalet. 
VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVIi. 8 



lU WomJ^Bit, nizR IrrsftAttiRS 'Aim ^er ^itost^i&iJTi^. [l>ecembe>, 

On the death of EiQgXouis, in 1376, Hungary presented 
a more frightful catalogue of crime than any other country 
of Europe. The heir to the crown is murdered ^ the queen 
dowager is drowned to preyent her exercising any influence $ 
and her own daughter Mary is said to have caused her to be 
thus dealt with. Be this as it may, she secures the throne 
for herself, and is duly crowned under tlie title of King 
Mary. The latter marries Sigismund, Marquis of Branden- 
burg ; this gives offence to the Magyars, and in order to pun- 
ish them the new king indulges in such wholesale slaughters 
that historians describe his reign by saying that ^* he caused 
the rivers of Hungary to flow with blood." The best 
proof that there are good grounds for this charge is to be 
found in the fact that the Hungarians implored the assistance 
of several of the neighboring States in turn ; as these hap- 
pened to have enough to do for themselves, the victims of 
oppression and cruelty were finally induced to call in the 
aid of the Turks. Sigismund is defeated in battle by Sultan 
Bajazet in i 389 ; but his G-erman allies sympathize with the 
former, so that instead of losing Hungary he is enabled to 
conquer Bohemia and secure his election as Emperor of 
Germany. 

Thus a marquis of Brandenburg becomes King of Hun- 
gary by marriage with a Hungarian princess ; in due time 
he secures the imperial sceptre, and be is succeeded as King 
of Hungary by Albert of Austria. The latter becomes sov- 
ereign in ] 437, and lays the fpundation of the Austrian claims 
on that country, which have never been relinquished to the 
present day. It is true that it has not always been in the 
possession of Austria since that date. Its possession has 
been disputed by Poland and Turkey, each of which has held 
and oppressed it in turn ; and yet it may be doubted whether 
either has dealt more severely with the people than their own 
native kings. 

Nor have any princes behaved more cruelly to each 
other than those of Hungary. An instance or two of 
their conduct will sufficiently illustrate this. Peter L is 
deposed by the adherents of Otto, who is killed in battle 
soon after* Peter again mounts the throne, but is again de- 
posed, and this time his eyes are put out. Andrew is the 
liext heir, but he is assassinated by his own brother Beta. A 
few years after Solomon is deposed and starved in a dungeon 
by his own son* Bela JI. gives promise of being a good 
princci bv|t \^i^ unQle Qglonaon is so anxious to take his place 



1866.] HUNOARY, HBR LITERATURB AND HRR PROSPECTS. 115 

that be plots against him until he succeeds in putting out 
his eyes,* and he subsequently treats his son in a similar 
manner. 

This is a gloomy picture ; it is certainly not such as to 
impress the reader with a very exalted idea of the sort of 
independence enjojred by Hungary when subject to no 
foreign yoke ; but it is the testimony of the most reliable 
historians. At the same time we would 'not convey the im- 
pression that all the native Kings of Hungary were of this 
character. At least two or three of its sovereigns were 
worthy of comparison with the best that have ruled any 
country. This is particularly true of Mathias Corvinus. In 
portraying the character of this prince, Count Mail&th, the 
ablest and most impartial of the Hungarian historianSi tells 
us that '* his justice was so generally known as to have be- 
come proverbial. The Magyar says even to the present day 
* Mathias is dead and justice is lost.' " In the same chapter 
the historian adds : '^ When the war broke out between 
Hungary and Austria a brave officer accosted Mathias with 
a request for leave to join the Emperor Frederick, to whom 
he had pledged himself by oath to return in case of war, be 
he where he might. The King dismissed him with rich 
presents, and extolled him highly for having preferred his 
oath to his own interest and a king's favor."t We are also 
informed that at another time when the King was told that 
certain members of his court designed to poison him, and he 
had reason to regard the information as correct, his reply 
was: "He who governs justly has neither poison nor dagger 
to fear, and what is most probable is not always true." 

This was the language of a philosopher, and philosophers 
were scarce at this time among the crowned heads of more 
enlightened nations than Hungary ; but Mathias formed an 
exception ; he was an enthusiastic student as well as a brave 
man. " His knowledge was great, " says the historian ; 
" besides his mother tongue, he was acquainted with German, 
Slavonian, Latin, and Bulgarian or Turkish. The classics 
were his favorite study ; he was familiar with Frontinus and 
Vegetius, and on retiring to rest he read Livy, or Quintus 
Curtius, or some other classic." t ^^ ^^^ further informed 
that Mathias " attended most sedulously to business. He read 

o Ce prince altier, Tindicatlf. feroce, fut le tyran de ees sujets, et le fleau d« 
aes volimB. Son ithte Almus lui donna de I'ombrage : il lui fit crever les yeax. — 
JSaioi hiUoriaue tur Vorigine da HongrmM. Par Aug. de Q^rando. Paris : 1851, p« 
162. 

f Geschichte der Magyaren, von Johann Grafen llaildth. {lb. 



116 HUKOART, HER LITERATURB AND HEB PROSPECTS. [December, 

every letter immediately ; the answers he generally directed 
his private secretary to write, bat he read them over himself; 
frequently he wrote or dictated them. "• 

We have thus been somewhat particular in noting the 
character of Mathias as portrayed by a Magyar whose writ- 
ings are highly popular among his countrymen and have 
l^te deemed worthy of translation into all the principal 
languages of Europe. It is not improbable, however, that 
he has exaggerated both the virtues and abilities of Mathias 
Corvinus ; although all historians — ^indeed all who have de- 
voted any attention io the political annals of Hungary — 
admit that he was a good king.t The Hungarians speak of 
him with reverence, as we have seen, to the present day ; 
and yet this was the very sovereign whom the Magyars tried 
hardest to get rid of! This fact .is at once remarkable and 
instructive ; and it is idle to deny that it is characteristic of 
the Magyars. Accordingly, it has often afforded a strong 
argument against the justice of 'their complaints. Austria 
has said to them more than once, *^ You were dissatisfied 
with your owe best king ; you tried to dethrone him and 
put a foreign prince in his place ; bow can we expect, there- 
fore, that you will not complain. of our rule ? " 

The very historian that has praised Mathias in the man- 
ner indicated as an exemplary sovereign informs us in the 
same work that the Magyars <^ turned to Casimir, King of 
Poland, and asked his second son^ Prince CasimiVf for their 
king. The oldest friends of the house of Hunyadi (that of 
Mathias), even Vitez, Archbishop of Gran, fell off from 
Mathias; of the seventy-five counties into which Hungary 
was then divided only nine — of the grandees only the 
Archbishop of Eolocza and the Palatine— remained true to 
the King." The best proof of the wisdom and ability of 
Mathias is to be found in the universal opinion at the pres- 
ent day, namely, that the sun of Hungary set with him and 
that it has yet to rise again. 

Prior to the rebellion of 1848-9 Hungary embraced, in addi- 
tion to the territory properly so called, Sclavouia, Croatia, 
Transylvania, the Military Frontier, Dalmatia, and what is 
called the Hungarian Littorale (west coast of the Adriatic), 

* Geschichte der Magyaien, yon Johann Grafen MaiUth. 

f The ApoBtolic Iiegate, Castelli, accredited to the Hungarian Court, writes 
to the Pope ns fonows : ** The King is learned ; he speaks with eamestnem and 
majesty, siying nothing but what seems to him worthy of belief. When I 
consider his talent, eloquence, morals, art, and valor, I find that he surpasses 
hII tlie princes I Icnow, without a single exception." 



1866.] RUXOART, HER UTERATURE AND HRR PR0SPEGT6. 117 

the whole containing a population of nearly 16,000. 000. 
All these dependencies, together with three counties of 
Hungary proper, were detached from the kingdom on the 
suppression of the war ; thus the Hungarians lost nearly 
half their traditional territory and more than 5,000,000 
of population ; they were also deprived of their ancient 
constitution. But they have still territory enough ; and it 
must be remembered that no brazen or impassable walls 
separate them from their brethren of Transylvania, Dalma- 
tia, Croatia, &c. The latter would fly to their assistance all 
the readier for having been thus arbitrarily separated from 
them. All this Austria fully understands. She is now 
disposed to make important concessions ; but she thinks it 
would be imprudent to hasten in this course, as her sudden 
kindness might be attributed to her recent humiliation. 
With this brief sketch of the general characteristics of the 
Hungarians and their present condition, as an introduction, 
we may proceed to consider their language and poetry, but 
only with the understanding that it is impossible to do either 
justice in the small amount of space which we can devote to 
them. . « 

The ancient alphabet was Hunno-Scy thian according to the 
' most careful investigators. Gyormathi gives a copy of it in 
his Leqons de langue hongroise; it is capable of faithfully 
rendering all the sounds of the Magyar. He also 
gives an inscription, written in the thirteenth century, in the 
same characters; but their use was interdicted centuries ago 
under severe penalties. So early as 1038 the Latin language 
was introduced ; and it has since been used throughout the 
the kingdom, except in some remote (districts, where the 
people still clung to the ancient characters until the begin- 
ning of the present century. As the Magyar has at least 
thirty-one phonetic sounds and the Latin only twe;jty-six, 
the vowel-sounds of the latter have to be increased by means 
of accents and different other contrivances, and for a similar 
purpose the consonants are combined in different ways. 

Thus if history had never said a word of the Magyars, their 
language would have fully vindicated their claim to an Ori- 
ental origin ; for there is no language in Europe that has any 
resemblance to it either in its construction, its vowel sounds, 
or its declensions. 

Among the various peculiar properties of the Magyar lan- 
guage is the extensive use which it makes of suffixes. Almost 
all the modifications of its nouns, verbs, pronouns^ and prepo- 



118 HUKOABT, HER LITERATDRI AND HER PROSPECTS. [December, 

sitions are produced by an addition to the termination. The 
Magyar language has no grammatical gender ; the sex is dis- 
tinguished when necessary by a distinct term, the exact 
nature of which cannot be indicated by any word in our 
language. There is, however, some analogy between its defi* 
nite article and our indefinite article. The former is az or a 
according as the substantive to which it relates commences 
with a vowel or a consonant. Every noun in the accusative 
or objective case is changed into an adjective by simply sub- 
stituting 8 for t. Thus haz (house), the accusative of which 
is hazatt becomes an adjective by changing the e into 5, and 
hazas signifies who has a house, or having a house. 

The Magyar abstract nouns have some analogy with those 
of the Latin in the termination of the nominative singular ; but 
there the resemblance ends. The Maygar abstract termination 
is sag or seg. No other language exhibits so much variety in 
what are called kindred words. Thus lat, (he sees.) is Idtni (to 
see) in the present infinitive ; changed into latas (the view) it 
becomes a noun ; then foreseeing or prophecy, Idto ; Idttrato is 
to be visible ; latailan is what cannot be seen ; Uua/atlan is 
invisible; lafhcdosagis visibility; lathatatlansag invisibility, &c. 

The personal pronouns are affixed to the verb, as the 
possessive pronouns are to the nouns. Even the preposi- 
tions undergo changes of termination ; they become separ- 
able or inseparable and change their forms according as they 
are intended to be placed before or after the noun. . Thus, 
hazba means in the house {ba being the preposition) hazhol 
out of the house, hazhoz at the house, or at home, &c. This 
is the inseparable form ; the. separable are such as haz ele 
before the house, kaz elbl about to leave the house, &c. 

Even these few instances would show that the language is 
exceedingly complicated ; nor do they misrepresent it in this 
respect. Yet it is at once energetic, expressive, and bar* 
monious ; few if any languages are more so. The combina- 
tions alluded to render it very pithy— capable of expressing 
much in a small space. A controversy took place in Ger- 
many some years ago as to which of the modern languages 
was most condensed and best calculated for translation. 
Some eminent scholars claimed the preeminence for Ger- 
man ; but scholars as eminent and learned and possessed of 
as good judgment claimed the sanie distinction for the 
Magyar. What was agreed upon for translation, as a test, 
was that beautiful piece of Arabic poetry which the English 
reader has so much admired in the translation of Sir William 



1866.] HUNGARY, HER UTERAnTRE AND HBR HtOSPECTS. 119 

Jones, although the latter gives^biif a faini; id^a of the touch- 
ing pathos and beauty of the original in lines like thie fol- 
lowing: 

^ On nnrseVarms a naked new-born child, 
Weeplog tbon sat'st ^hile all around thee smird ^ 
So live that sinking in th j lobg,^ last sleep, 
Oalm«thoa may'st smile, while all around thee weep.^ 

Of the several German versions furnished to the committee . 
appointed to decide the poin(,, that which obtained mpst ap 
plause was the following version of Von Hammer : 

** Sohn I dn weintest am Tag der Gelmrt ; es lachten die Freande ; 
Traoht^— dass am Todestag, wahxend sie weinen, da laohstJ' 

This had the recommenda,tion of containing precisely ,th^ 
same number of words in the same measure as the original 
Arabic. But this did not meet the question. It was claimed 
that the Hungarian could express all' in fewer words ; and to 
prove the fact several of thq Magyar poqts furnished versions 
of the Arabic passage. The translation of Valyi-nagy con- 
sisted of only eleven words, and ran as follows : 

Hogy szHltet^l siral n^zSid Ortlltenek ; tigy dlj 

When thon wert horn thou weepedst, the lookers-on rejoibed ; ao live 

Hogy holtodkor azok sirjanak 6b te orQlj. 

That at thy death these may weep and thon mayst rejoice. 

Kacenczy was terser still ; he furnished one version which 
consisted ot only eleven words ; lest thia might not be sufS- 
ciently condensed to secure the palm for his beloved Magyar 
he sent another a few days after which contained only seven 
words. We transcribe both for the satisfaction of those who 
take an interest in such linguistic feats. 

Sirdl middtn lev61 ; azok nerettenek, 

Thon weepedst when thon were, others smiled. 

£ly hojy vigan halhags dk keser6g}enek. 

Live — that thon mayst cheerfully die, while they monrn.^' 

Sirvalettel; vigadtanak, 
Ha|j meg vigdn, bdsdyanak. 

Weeping then wert— they r^oioed ; 
Die joyfdliy — they will moHrn. 

We need make no comment on these versions further than 
to say that even the sayans of Vienna awarded the palm to 
the Magyar language ; those who had been iu fie^vor of sup - 
pressing it as a source of constant danger to the Austrian em- 
pire admitted that it was much more expressive and more 



120 (HUNGARY, HER UTEBATURB AND HER PROBPEOTS. [December, 

flexible as well as more terse and musical than the dialect of 
the Fatherland. The best French, English, and Italian lin- 
guists have paid it similar compliments. '< La langue hon- 
groise ou magyare," says M. L6on Valsse, *< est douce et 
harmonieuse " • 

There are not many who are aware that the Magyars 
had a. literature before the English ; but such is nevertheless 
the fact. Magyar manuscripts may be seen in the Imperial 
Library at Vienna which bear the date of 13S2. The same 
institution possesses a Magyar Bible translated into that 
language by Ladislaw Bathori in 1450. Dem. Csati wrote 
an epic on the conquest of Hungary by his ancestors so 
early as 1530. These are the most ancient Magyar works 
now extant, but much greater had been produced at least a 
century previously. According to the Magyars themselves 
they had national epics so early as the beginning of the fifth 
century ; and there is good reason to believe that there is 
some foundation for the statement. No one is less disposed 
to exaggerate than Fredrick Schlegel; no one more cautious 
in drawing conclusions after making the most extensive re- 
searches. There is no reason why he should make an ex- 
ception in favor of the pretensions of the Magyars ; and in 
speaking of their literature he says, ^' There is no doubt that 
from ike earliest times they had ajine collection of epics composed 
»n their own primitive tongue. The engrossing theme of their 
poetry was most probably an account of the conquest of the 
country under the Seven Chiefs. It is tolerably certain that 
these legends of heathen antiquity were not entirely extinct, 
even after the introduction of Christianity ^ since the writers of 
the national chronicles bear testimony to having seen lays 
of corresponding import with their own eyes. This view is 
further confirmed by the fact that Bevaj, a celebrated Hun- 
garian scholar, himself assisted in rescuing from oblivion a 
ballad of thip sort ; it treats of the immigration of the Ma- 
gyars into Hungary.'*t 

The same impartial and learned critic fully explains 
how it is that the fine poems referred to by so many early 
writers no longer exist. " But whatsoever," he says, *' of 
Hungarian legendary poetry and glorious reminiscence 

« Elsewhere the eame critio giyes the foUowing eBtimate of it : ** Mains 
riche que rallemand, le hongrols est, par compeDsatioo, plus energique etplus 
concis, en m6me temps que plus harmonieux et plus flexible. II est singuUdre- 
ment propre & la poesie. La prosodie et le rhytbme y sont tels qu'on a pu 
7 introdulre avec succ^ tous les metres des Bomalns et des Grecs. 
t Schlegel' 8 History of Literature, Iac, z, p. 223. 



Il66.] HUNOART, HSR UTBRATURB AND HBR PROSPECTS. 121 

escaped the deadly flow of foreign pseudo refinement, prob- 
ably perished altogether under the devastations of the Turks. 
Some remains of the national genius for historical epics 
lingered in the country and survived her destruction*** • 

We trust that more than the students of ethnology and 
languages will now understand that the language and litera- 
ture of Hungary are worthy of a great people. The truth is 
that a vulgar or mongrel people could not have formed either. 
Although so much of the ancient literature of the Magyars 
has perished by various means ; although, even in our own 
time, Austria has done her best not only to discourage but to 
suppress it, there is still sufficient left to awaken a deep in- 
terest in the fate of the people who possess it. Indeed there 
is sufficient to show that, notwithstanding the political errors 
and inconsistencies to which we have alluded m passing, v« e 
are bound to believe that under favorable circumstances the 
Magyars are not only capable of attaining a high degree of 
civilization, but also of securing, for themselves a prominent 
if not a leading position among the great nations of Europe. 

For the reasons already mentioned it is almost useless to 
go farther back in search of specimens of Magyar literature 
than the middle of the fifteenth century, when Mathias Corvi- 
nus distinguished himself as a sovereign, warrior, scholar, and 
even poet.t In the reign of Ferdinand I. there were also 
some good poets who were encouraged by the King. This is 
true both of Paul Kinzi and Stephen Bathin, who were 
equally renowned for their poetry and their bravery. In 
1541 John Erddsi, better known as Sylvester, published a 
Magyar version of the New Testament, prefixing to each of 
the Evangelists a fine poem in pure hexameter verse. Of 
this curious work there are but three copies extant — one in 
the library of the Vatican, another in that of Heidelberg 
University, and the other in the Imperial Library at Paris. 
It is chiefly remarkable as one of the ablest and most 

® Schlegel's Historj of Literature, Lee. x, p, 224. 

f There u j^ood re.ison to believe that the King wrote verses of genuine 
mc>rit. Ambrosfi Gerciani, in his historical poem on Corvinus, alludes to the 
loyal strains as follows : 

*' I hear no minstrel poets sing 
As sung our good, our valiant King, 
Our ancient noble chief ; and yet 
His songs— his virtues we forget." 

'* En nem hallok oils j6 eneksaerzjlket, 
Kik eld hoznak j6 fc jedelmanket, 
M&ty&f kir&izt rggi j6 ves^inket, 
Elfelejtjakmijol tett emberunket." 



122 HUKOART, HER UTERATURB AND HER PROSPECTS. [December, 

early efforts of the moderns to cause the adoption of the an- 
cient prosody. Accordingly, Erd6si is regarded as the 
founder of the classical school of poetry, not only in Hun- 
gary, but throughout Germany. This fact is so fully recog- 
nized by learned Germans that to this day they call those 
verses which are scanned according to the rules of Greek and 
Latin prosody Erd5sian. 

Nor has the drama been neglected in Hungary. So early 
as 1569 Kiradi produced several comedies, two or three of 
which were translated into French and German ; it was this 
poet who produced the national drama entitled BcUasHaMeny^ 
hart. During the seventeenth century, when there was com- 
paratively little intellectual activity in Hungary — ^the public 
mind being chiefly occupied with political and religious revo- 
lutions — a considerable nuiiiber of dramas of merit were 
produced.* 

In 1664 Nicholas Zrinyi published an epic in fifteen 
books entitled Az Adrcd Tegemek Sirendga (the Syren of the 
Adriatic). We have seen no specimens of this, but Maii&th 
speaks of it as ^^ possessing great power, characterized by a 
patriotic and heroic spirit, and written in the purest Magyar." 
This author was also the founder of a school ; it was he who 
first introduced the accented poetry of the moderns into Hun- 
gary, and, accordingly, it has since borne his name. Yet 
another school was formed by Stephen GyOngyosi (1622-1704) 
which is still known in Hungary as the Tordaic, from the 
place of its author's residence. His principal poem is that 
entitled Vesdtnycas (the Venus of Murdny) ; it is mainly de- 
voted to a description of the taking of the fortress of Mur&ny 
by Vesselenye, and the consequent marriage of the poet to 
Maria Sz6csi, a Magyar princess, and its chief peculiarity con- 
sists in its structure, being rhymed in the middle of each 
verse and measured throughout according to the rules of 
Latin prosody. That it was highly popular in its day is 
sufficiently proved by the fact that it gained for the author 
the title of the Prince of Magyar Poets. It bears som e re- 
semblance to the Furioso ot Arlosto in the richness of its 
imagery and the boldness of its metaphors ; and although 
it can hardly be regarded as worthy of comparison with that 
great work, as a whole, it is certain that it contains passages 
which even Ariosto has seldom surpassed. 

* '* Cependant," says M. Mesnard, "des troops de oom^diens ambulanta 
commenceient d^ 1614 i paroourir les villes pour y repr^aenter des dramos 
dont le sujet titait puis^ dans I'histoire da pays. Le poSme hiBtorlqae obUat 
alon 868 premiers succds." 



1866.] HUNGART, HVB LITERATURB AND HEB PROSPECTS. 128 

The first poet of the modern school was the Jesuit 
Fiiludi, who was born in 1704 and died in 1799. During 
his life he was not known, except to some of the brethren of 
his order, as a poet ; but he gained distinction throughout 
the Continent as a critic and scholar. He was familiarly 
acquainted with several foreign languages, from some of which 
he translated useful and valuable works.* But he did not 
care for the fame of an author; he rather avoided it; and 
this will account for the fiact that his writings were not pub- 
lished until seven years after his death. We can only give 
one specimen of his poetry ; but apart from its grace and ten- 
derness, this possesses peculiar interest. It seems that in his 
youth F^ludi was deeply enamored of a beautiful daughter 
uf the Tyrol; but she proved false; |tnd he withdrew frcm 
the world and entered a Jesuit novitiate. Here his conduct 
was 80 exemplary that he soon became a favorite with the 
young and old of the brethren. Several of the poems found 
in his portfolio after his death proved to have been inspired 
by this lady ; that they were no vulgar strsins will be readily 
admitted on a perusal of the following stanzas, the original of 
which we transcribe at the bottom of the page for the bene- 
fit of the student of languages : 

'*THB FALSE UAU>. 



' She is born of Doble stem, 
Fairer than the fairest gem 
Which apon her robe doth shine ; 
Graceful, beautiful, divine. 

What avails it all to me ? 

She is false as false can be I 



She has eyes Jike damsons black, 
Shining like the comet's track ; 
Mouth of witchery — lightning glance^ 
Heaven is in her countenance. 

What avails it all to me? 

She is false as false can be 1 

ni. 
Neck of alabaster, lips 
Crimson roses to eclipse, 
Ohin of marble's smoothest glow, 
Shoulders pled of purest snow. 

What avails it all to me ? 

She is false as false can be I 

o Honmy's Mtmoria Hmgaronm ; Conversations-Lezkxin, '^enna ; &c. 



124 HUNGARY, HSR LITERATURB AND HER PROSPECTS. [December, 
^ IV. 

Fair when distant, fair when near, 
Fair her smile and fair her tear, 
Fair when bending, fair erect — 
Unadorned, or gem-bedeck*d. 

What avails it all to me? 

She is lalse as false can be! '^ * 

As our quotations must necessarily be limited we must 
pass over the ^productions of several poets and only notice 
such as possess somewhat of a representative character. This 
is the case with the poems of Raday, who was born in 1713 
anddiedin l792,andwhom his countrymen regard as the father 
of the modern Magyar school. Having inherited a rich patri- 
mony he was in comfortable circumstances, and he freely 
shared what he could spare with needy literary men, especi- 
ally with poets making all welcome to his library who wished 
to avail tliemselvea of the use of the fine collection of books 
which he secured in his travels through Europe. It is not 
strange, then, that even those of his contemporaries who 
might be considered as his rivals speak of him not only with 
kindness but a&ectiun. We are sorry that we can only give 
one extract from his poems ; nor can we say that this does 
justice to his style; we transcribe it because we have noth- 
ing better of his at hand, and because it is somewhat quaint 
withal : 

*^ WATER, WIND, REPCTATION. 

" I was a boy and heard this pretty story : 
That Wind and Water play'd with Reputation 
At hide-and-seek together. 

•"A* HANRIS LEANT. 
I. 

" Uri nemzet* eredete, der^k^^eles, ez6p termete, 
* QydngyOs, kdvee, sz^p ruhaja, ruhi^an&l szebe orcz&ja ; 

De mit haszn&l, na hamis, 

De mit ha8zn41, ha hamis. 

n. 
Szeme kSk^ny, csillag ft^nnye, sz^a csuda 6pitm6nye, 
Tdzet lobbant pillantasa, mint az egek villaml&aa ; 
De mit hasznal, ha hamis. {Rep.) 

m. 
Alabastrom fej^r nyaka, piroa r6z8a nyith ajaka, 
Bima m&rvany pieziny ^lyea, tiszta h6n&l tiszt&bb filleja ; 
De mit haszn&l, ha hamis. {Hep,) 

IV. 

Sz^p mikor varr, Bz6p mikor ir, 8z6p mikor nevet, sz^p mikor sir, 
Szep mikor dl, sz^p mikor &11, ha hajt t<srdet, czif r&n aetal ; 
De mit hzAznu, ha hamis." {Sep,) 



1866.] HTJNOART, HER UTKRATITRS AND HER PROSPECTS. 125 

The water rnshed adown the monntain passes, 
Bnt was discovered after long parsning 
In the deep valleys. 

The wind flew upwards ; 

Bnt it was followed to the monntain sninmits, 

And soon entrappM there. 

Then Repatation was to he imprison^d^ 

And reputation whispered 

In a sonorous voice to her companions : 

* Know if yoA lose me — know if once I hide me, 

I'm lost forever.' 

And 80 it was — she hid her ; all inquiry 
Was wasted in the seeking ; 
Nothing can renovate that perishM treasure. 
If you have lost it — thou hast lost all with It." 

The Bexl poet who attracts particular attention is Bes- 
senyci, who was born in 1742 and died in 1809. He was 
the founder of the French school of Magyar poets. He was 
acquainted with several of the principal languages of Europe, 
including Gerujan, Italian, Spanish, and English, as well as 
French. He was so familiar with the Anglo-Saxon that 
he was induced to translate Pope's Essay on Man {Az ember 
probdjd), and it is generally admitted that his version is a 
faithful one. We have a few extracts from his .poems before 
us, but none that would do him justice. His sucj^ess as a 
translator prompted Szil^yi to undertake a version of Vol- 
taire's Henriade, which has also become a classic in the Ma- 
gyar language. Another poet of this period who has deserved 
well of his country is Kazinczy. His principal original 
work is a book of epigrams, which is still highly popular 
among the 'educated classes of his countrymen. But he 
claims our attention more as a translator than as a poet : for 
ho has rendered into Magyar Shakespeare's Hamlet, the 
whole of Ossian, and Sterne's Letters. We have several 
of his sonnets before us, but the following must suffice for our 
present purpose : 

"My little hark of life is gently speeding 
Adown the stream midst rooks, and sands, and eddies, 
And gathering storms, and dark'ning clouds — unheeding 
Its auiet course thro' waves and winds it steadies ; 
My love is with me— and my hahes — whose kisses 
Sweep sorrow's trace from off my brow as fast 
As gathering there— and hung upon the mast 
Are harp and myrtle flowers, that shed their blisses 
On the sweet air. Is darkness on my path f 
Then beams bright radiance from a star that hath 



126 HUXGART, HER LITERATURE AND HER PROSPECTS. [December, 

Its temple in the heavens. As firm as youth 
. I nrge my onward way — there is no fear 
For honest spirits. Even the fates revere 
And recompense — love, minstrelsy and truth.^' 

Among the sweetest asd most touching poets of Hun- 
gary was AnyoB (1766-1784). Like Faludi he retired to a 
convent at an early age, and like the same poet he shunned 
rather than courted fame. When his desk was opened at 
his. death it was found that he had destroyed his best produc- 
tions ; it seems he would have destroyed all had not some of 
his brethren and friends prevailed upon him some time pre- 
viously to lend them a few of his effusions. His elegaic strains 
were so much admired that some of the best poets of his time 
addressed long poems to him full of affection and sympathy. 
It was to him, for example, that the poet-warrior Barcsay 
addressed that poetical epistle which is more quoted than 
any other Magyar poem of its time and character, and from 
which we copy a verse or two : 

" "Wonld I could fling aside my wearying shield, 
Bury my sword forever in its sheath, 
And. till the thread of fate is snapped by death 
Dwell with the smiling musen See fulfiUM % 

Those beantiflil dreams of hope and boundless joy, 
When, the world's slavish fetters broken, peace 
Retires on her own thoughts of quietness, 
Bliss-giving, bliss-reoeiving, lifers employ."'*' 

Dayka also was, in a certain sense, a monkish poet. He 
was the son of a poor tailor ; but two Cistersian monks, 
having noticed that he possessed genius, devoted themselves 
to his education ; and there is every reason to believe that 
they had reason to be satisfied with the result. He, too, 
was so modest that he left all he wrote unpublished ; he 
died in the prime of life, having doubtless hastened his death 
by the intense ardor with which he studied philosophy. 

Virdg has still many admirers among scholars, but his 
poems are too artificial ; there is nothing national in 
them ; very little besides the language that is Hungarian. 
The author was a professor of the classics at the University of 
Buda, and all his productions are formed on classical modelg. 

o *' Bar €n letehetnem f&radt sisakomat, 
Kuczikba vethetnSm rozsdis pall68omat, 
'8 Mnzsaknak szentelv^m haDnyatI6 napomat 
Laasan nyujtogatnak P&rk&k fanalomat. 
Vallyon mikor 4rem azt & bdldogsagot, 
Hogy let^ven mlnden viUgi raba&got, 
SgyedtU miveljem & ssent barats-igot 
Melix &d nyajaasigert vissvat ny&jaas'^got." 



1866.] BTTKOAltr, HER LITERATURE AN9 HER PROSPECTS. 127 

He has so successfully hnitated many of the Horatian odes 
that his admirers still -call him the Magyar Horace. His 
address to the Muses may be regarded as a fair specimen of 
his classic lyrics : 

■**»rO THE liCBBS^ 

" Where do ye bear roe'I into wlwit solitade 
Midst groves and vfllllejs? Daughters of Helicon I 
Have je awakened »i»ew iires in my bosom ? 
Have ye transported my spirit? 

Herein this qniet temple of lonelineas 
"Will I pour out the songs of divinity 
To the HnDg<ii<ian HiCiner^a, and worship 
At the ImmortaA ome^s altar. 

Yes I I will read ail the deeds of futurity. 
Dark-mantled groves, sweet fountains of gentleness, 
Rave ye not thonglits to overwhelm roe with transport 
And to upbear me to heaven 9 

As ye have borne the bright virgins of victory, 
Whom with a passionate longing for blessedness 
Fain I wonld follow ; and breathing of glory, 
Heavenly sisters 1 I hail ye.'^ 

Of a very different cast was the disposition as well 
«s the character of Verseghy (1755—1852). While the 
Bada professor wished to enrich his native language with 
Greek and Latin words and constructions, Verseghy wished 
to reject a large number of words which had been used by 
his countrymen for centuries. It is almost needless to say 
that he did not succeed in this ; but he was not easily dis- 
couraged. Since he could not induce the Magyars to speak 
in the " pure " manner, which he thought right, he devoted his 
attention, in turn, to history, romance, theology, music and 
poetry. His collected poems were published in 1806 ; those 
which attracted most attention were satires entitled Rikoti 
Maiijas (Matthew Rikoti). These were translated into Ger- 
man and Danish, as werealso some of his odes; the latter 
are, indeed, far more attractive than the former, especially to 
foreigners, who do not understand the local allusions and 

EBrsonalities of the satires. That his philosophy is rather 
picurean may be seen from the following stanzas : 

• "to MT BBLOTKD. 

" Pluck we the roses — ^let ub plnclc the roses, 
O my sweet maiden I when we find them blooming, 
While they are smiling 'midst their thorny branches, 
Plack we the roses. 



128 HUNGART, HEB LTTERATURR AKD HER FVLOSF&CTS. [December, 

Bright as they seem, the spirit of perdition 
Sweeps them ere morning. Shall we lose the transports 
Now pressing round as in the distant dreaming 
Future may promise ? 

- All that we have is hiended in the present, 
Chances and changes trifle with the fiiture ; 
Oft 'tis its task to mingle in joy's chalice 
Drops of dark poison." 

It is time now that we should give a specimen or two of 
the ballad poetry of the Magyars. The national songs of 
Hungary are, as might be expected, full of spirit and life ; 
but few of them are allowed to make their appearance ia 
books without undergoing expurgation at the hands of the 
censorship. Some of the finest patriotic effusions of the 
Magyars that appear in print are therefore symbolical, but 
as such they forcibly remind the thoughtful reader of the 
passionate exclamation of Juliet : 

** Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak alond. 
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies 
With repetition of my Romeo^s name." 

Is it any wonder, in view of this restraint, that one of 
the best of the Magyar critics tells, in speaking of the com- 
positions of his countrymen in general, that '' over them all 
IS spread a gloomy tinge — and joy itself seems to find utter- 
ance in tones of pathos and melancholy. This character is 
attached to the national songs and to the national dances, of 
which it has been remarked that the Magyars dance as if 
they were weeping."* This is by no means peculiar, how- 
ever, to the Hungarians. The Magyar songs, in which no 
symbols are used but the plain, stirring vernacular, must be 
heard from the mouths of the people. If we do find a war 
song occasionally in a German or French translation, its 
tones are considerably subdued. This is true for example, of 
the following : 

^'HUSSAB SONG. 

Sirtal Amdm tgyhor erttem, 

** Mother I dost weep that thy boy^s right hand 
Hath taken a sword for his fatherland ? 
Mother I where should the brave one be 
Bat in the ranks of bravery! 

Mother I and was it not sad to leave 
Mine own sweet maiden alone to grieve ? 
Julia I where should the brave one be 
But in the ranks of bravery ? 

• Introduction to the Begik 6, Magyar EK^dObai, p. 12. 



1866.] HUNGABT, HER UTBRATURB AND HER PROSPECTS. 129 

Mother I if thou In death wert laid, 
Julia I if thou wert a treacherous maid ; 
Oh, then it were well that the brave ehonld be 
In the front ranks of bravery. 

Mother! the thought brings heavj tears, 
And I looked Vonnd on mj youth's compeers; 
They have their griefd and loves like me, 
Touching the brave in tlieir bravery. 

Mother ! my guardian I oh, be still — 
Maiden I let hope thy bosom fill ; 
Eiral and country ! how sweet to be 
Battling for both in bravery I 

Bravery — ^aye — and victory's hand 
Shall wreath my ^iVx* with golden band ; 
And in the camp the shouts shall be,' 
Oh ! how he fought for liberty! '' 

In portraying the passion of love the Magyar poets 
can give fuller scope to their genius ; but .these are fre- 
quently symbolical. By the " beloved one '* is often meant 
Hungary; at other times love and patriotism are hap- 
pily blended. Thip is true of the fine ballad of ** Lovely 
Lenka," which in its native dress is admired by all classes, 
and which must be admitted to possess some attraction in the 
following translation : 

** He lingers on the ocean shore, 
The seaman in his boat ; 
The water spirit's music o'er 
The ruffled wave doth float. 

* Maiden of beauty I counselled be, 

* The tempest wakes from out the sea.* 

' I may not stay,* the maiden cried, 

* Thouffh loud the tempest blow ; 

* That meadow on the water side — 

* That cottage — ^bids me go. 

' That shady grove that murmurs near 
' Invites me — he I love is there 1 

' The wave is high, the storm is loud, 

* And dangers rise anon ! — 

* But Hope sits smiling on the cloud, 
' Storms drive the vessel on. 

' And joy and sorrow both oonv.ey 
' Man's mortal bark along its way.* 

Into the seaman's boat she stept, 

The helm the seaman took ; 
The storming billows fiercely swept, 

And all the horizon shook. 
The maiden spoke : ^ Te fears begone I 

* The storm^wind drives the vessel on.' 

• Military cap^ — — — 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVU. 9 



130 BUNOABT. HER LiTBRATXJBE ▲ND HSB PROSPECTS. [December, 

* O muden I darker is the sky 

' And fiercer is the wind ; 
' Alas 1 there is no harbor nigh, 

* No refuge can we find. 

, * A whirlpool is the angry sea, 
' It will engulf both thee and me.' 

* No, seaman I fortune always shone 

* And still will shine on me ; 

* Boon will the stormy cloads be gone, 

*" And sunbeams calm the sea, 

* And evening bring the promised doTe, 
' And evening guide me to my love.' 

Sh4 turned her to the distant strand 

(He stood upon the spot) — 
In sweet delirium stretched her hand 

And winds and waves forgot. 
60 is love*s spirit overfraught 
With love's intensity of thought. 

He stood — a statue on the shore^ 

A pale ice-hardened form : 
The billows battling more and more. 

And louder waxed the storm. 
Clouds, waves, all mingled — and the boat? 
Its scattered planks asunder float. 

Where is she f Ask the storm I for he 

No single tear has shed ; 
And he ? Go ask the silent sea — 

Its echoes answer * Dead I ' 
I held communion with its waves, 
But could not find the lovers' graves.*' 

The Hussar song is one of the many graceful lyrics of 
Dobrenteiy who was distinguished as a critic as well as a 
poety and is nearly as well known in Germany and through- 
out Scandinavia as in his own country. He has contributed 
to several of the German periodicals, and is the author of the 
well written paper in the Leipzig Conversations-Lexicon on 
the literature of his country. No one loved Hungary more 
than he ; but he was one of those who believed that <^ sedi- 
tious poetry " does good only at certain times. 

The author of " Lovely Lenka " is Eolcsey, who was born 
iin 1790, and only died a few years since. He^ too, was an 
• essayist and critic. For fifteen years he was the principal 
editor of a periodical entitled Elet is Literatura. .In this 
capacity he did incalculable service to the literature of his 
country ; and he was aided in the good work by Szemere, 
another poet, many of whose odes and sonnets have been 
translated into German, Danish, and Swedish. 

No modem poets are more deeply imbued with the 



1866.] HUNOART, HER LITF.RATURB AND HER PROSPBCrS. l31 

classic spirit than those of Hungary. We see more or less 
evidence in all their productions of the refining influence of 
the ancient languages ; we see that if the use o( the Latin 
as the court language and that of jurisprudence for so many 
centuries after it had been discontinuea everywhere else re* 
tarded the development of the Magyar, its effect on the 
thinking faculties has been good ; for be it remembered that 
even to this day the language of Cicero is fluently spoken 
by all educated Magyars. Thus Berszenyi is highly classical ; 
no modern author indulges in more classical allusions ; at the 
same time no Magyar poet has exercised a more powerful 
fascination over his countrymen ; no, one is more fervent or 
more impetuous than he. He blends the story of the 
ancient Romans with that of theHunnish race in a manner 
that is at once startling, sad, and fascinating. He was bora 
in 1780 and died in 1850. His countrymen say that he 
took ill on the day he heard of the surrender of Gorgey, and 
never got over the effect of the shock. A fourth eoition of 
bis works was published at Buda in 1851. In several of his 
poems he addresses his beloved Hungary as ancient Rome. 
Sometimes he enters into comparisons which are at once 
justy beautiful, and touching, as in the following instance* 

** OSZTALTRBBZEM. IfT PORTIOV. 

*' What though the waves roll awfully before me — 
Quicksand and tempestfl ? From the ooean bordsr 
Calmly I launch me, all raj sails uafurling, 
Laughing at danger. 

Peaoe has returned ; I drop mj quiet anohor ; 
Beautiful visions have no power to charm me. 
Welcome the wanderer to thj cheerful bosom, 
Land of retirement I 

Are not mj meadows verdant as Tarentum I 
Are not mj fields as lovelj as Larissa f 
Flows not the Tiber with m^estio beamlxig 
Through mj dark forest? 

Have I not vines and golden corn-ears dancing 
In the gay winds, and doth not heavenly freeaom 
Dwell in my dwelling?— Yes! the gods have given me 
All I could envy. 

Fate may indulge its infinite oapriees ; 
Sheltered from want, unconquerable courage 
Trains me to look secure, serene, contented, 
Up to the heavens. 

Thou, thou, my lyre I if thou dispense Uiy blessings 
Bright on the tortuous pathway of existence, 
Deserts shall smile, wastes wax them into gladness, 
OharmM'by thy music* 



132 BUNGABT, EBB UfSRATUBK AND BEB PBOSPBOTS. [DdCemker, 

Place m% among the eternal snows of Greenland, 
Plaoe me among the burning sands of Zaara, 
TAer4 shall your bosoms warm me, gentle Mases ; 
Here your breath freshen/' 

In short, there is no sort of poetry of which the Magyars 
have not furnished us specimens. The extracts we have 
given thus far are taken from poems which, in general, are 
of too high an order for the lower classes ; but the latter 
have abundance, which they alone relish. And we find more 
that is characteristic in these than in any other kind. Thus, 
for example, all travellers agree that the Magyar women — 
at least those of the poorer class — ^are too often little better 
than the slaves of their husbands ; that the former have to 
work hard, while the latter amuse themselves. Even among 
the higher ranks the women are but seldom regarded as the 
equals of their husbands ; there are none of the habits of 
their Oriental ancestors which the Magyars seem to respect 
more than this. But the ladies do not always submit so 
quietly as might be supposed; occasionally they make 
earnest protests, and draw a pretty gloomy picture of their 
condition, as in the following instance : 

"thb oohplaimt ot tbx touko wifb. 
Tiuta JMM M d kaldes. 

" Her laboring hands the meal mast knead, 

Her bnsy toil mnst bake the bread ; 
The priest may read his record, o'er ; 

The lord and master take the air ; 
Bnt there is nought but grievous care 

^nd heavj labor for the poor. 

As from the rock the mad casc&de 

Falls, so did I— a thoughtless maid — 
Wed, when it had been well to tarry. 

Oil, conld I be a maid again, 
That roan mnst be a man of men 

Who should seduce the maid to marry ! " 

As in the English language we occasionally find a song 
or ballad which is equally relished by rich and poor, learned 
and ignorant, one frequently meets similar gems among the 
lyrical treasures of Hungary ; but our space is so nearly ex- 
hausted that we can only give one specimen ; nor can we say 
that this is of even average merit, for we transcribe it mu ch more 
for its brevity than for its melody or tenderness ; and yet it 
cannot be denied that it is not entirely deficient of those 
qualities. If it be wondered that so simple and unpretend*- 
ing a ditty conld be very popular, let it be borne in mind 



1866.] HUNGARY, HER LrTSRATURB AKD HER PR0BP8CTS. 133 

that it 18 now in a foreign dress which greatly detracts from 
its native beauty; at all events the *^ Marosian Song" is the 
last flower we can cull, for the present, from the Magyar 
parterre : 

1IAK08IAN BONO. 

Ardd d tiz, meg dapad. 

" The waters ebb and the waters flow, 
My head is achiug with anxious woe : 
But come, mj rose, and sit down with rae, 
8oon calm and sunny hours will beam ; 
My heart shall find tranquillity. 
And be as bright as Maros* stream. 

Sweet dovelet I thou art as sad as I ; 
List I for the stork goes flapping by ; 
See 1 for the courser seeks the glade ; 
The grass is hung with gems of dew. 
Let^B seek the fields, my lovely maid, 
Let^s mount our steeds and be joyful too." 

Although these few extracts, taken almost at random 
from several collections of Magyar poems, give but a faint 
idea of the richness and variety of the poetical literature of 
Hungary, they may have the eflect of directing to it the at- 
tention of a few to whom it had not previously occurred that 
the field was worth exploring ; and if it does so we shall 
have accomplished our chief object. We feel certain that 
no intelligent student can read the poets of Hungary, even 
in translations that have reached us through the Qerman> 
without profit and pleasure. The time devoted to them will 
certainly not be lost, if only because they are more imbued 
with the classic spirit, for the reasons already mentioned, 
than any other modern authors, not excepting even the 
Germans* It is not, however, altogether for its own sake 
that we have taken up the subject of Magyar literature at 
the present moment. Self-love and self-interest have ever 
proved powerful motives ; those who deny them most are 
more or less influenced by them ; indeed, none are altogether 
free from them even when they honestly think otherwise 
themselves. At the same time there is such a thing, in 
nations as well as individuals, as generosity — such a thing as 
sympathy — such a thing as wishing happiness to others 
without expecting any benefit from it themselves. There is 
no reason why we should not feel thus actuated towards 
Hungary. AH who doubt may easily satisfy themselves that 
the Magyars are a highly intellectual people ; that they are 
not inferior, either mentally or physically* to any other 
people in Europe. 



134 THK ACQUiamoK OF KKOWLXDOE [December, 

Abt. VI. — 1. JBMicOieca Americana: Catalogue of American Pub- 
Hcalions, including Reprints and Original Works from 1820 to 
1852, with Supplement to 1855. Addenda to March, 1858. 
New York : 0. A. Roorbach. 

2. Ma BibliotMque Francaise- Par H. Bassanob. Paris : 1855. 

3. La NouveUe BtblioiMque d*un Homme de Govi, Paris. 

4. Traiie dee plus belles BiUioth^ues de V Europe. Paris. 

The idea of taking part in their own governnnent is very 
flattering to the self-love of mo^t people ; although too ofbeu 
it means very little that is good ; not unfrequently it is 
rather suggestive of the adage that the lawyer who pleads 
his own case has a fool for his client. The most eloquent 
advocates and most learned jurists generally prefer to em- 
ploy others to plead their own cases; and the most experi- 
enced and skilful physicians pursue a similar course ; it is 
w^ell known that they often employ those whose professional 
knowledge is far less than their own to prescribe for them. 

It is right and proper for anyone to attend to his own 
business if he is capable of doing so intelligently and well ; 
but if others whom he could aflTord to employ could serve 
him better* it is no wisdom on his part to do the work himself. 
Accordingly, no sensible merchant or banker keeps his ac- 
counts himself rather than employ a clerk or book-keeper to 
keep them for him. He may try for a while ; but when he 
sees that however skilful he is in buying or selling, or in 
securing the use of large sums of money, he is apt to blunder 
in his figures when he comes to apply the pen to them just 
because he is a sensible man, he employs a clerk at once. 

But with a legislator it is entirely different ; the politician 
is always very willing to be a representative of the people 
in one position or other ; but he wants no one to represent 
him. His care is to have constituents ; not to have a repre- 
sentative, except when dangerous work is to be performed, 
such as fighting for his country or the like ; then, indeed, be 
is very willing to waive his representative claims. But what 
have his constituents — ^those who imagine they govern them- 
selves — to say in the matter ? Or, rather, what should they 
do if they are as competent judges of right and wrong as they 
pretend ? Should they retain as their representatives those 
who do them more harm than good? those who, while mak- 
ing long-winded harangues in praise of the blessings of self- 
government, deprive their constituents of advantages and 
privileges which are enjoyed by the subjects of those despots 



1866.] IMPEDSD BT OUR LB6I8LAT0B8. 1S5 

whom they represent as demons rather than men ? It is 
necessary to distinguish between mere talk and facts; 
between theory and practice; between causes and their 
effects. 

All will admit that there is no mqre common topic in 
this country than the liberty of the press ; nothing is more 
highly praised, nothing more boasted of, by our politicians. 
Far be it from us to deny that, in its leffitimate sense 
it deserves all the praise bestowed upon it. But is the. 
press really free in this country? We deny that it is;, 
and we will prove in this article, to the satisfaction of ev.ery 
intelligent, candid person, that it is not Did the liberty of 
the press consist in our being allowed to abuse all who 
differ from us in politics, religion, morals, &c., then ifc could 
not be denied but we enjoy it to the fullest extent ; but this is. 
license, not liberty ; an evil to be deprecated, rathpr than a 
boon to be boasted of. 

No person of culture and intelligence feels that he is 
under any irksome restraint in society because thp habitual 
use of abusive or indecent language may exclude him from 
it, or compel him to choose for his company thpse whose 
tastes are so vitiated as to have no objection to such 
language. And why would not the same rule apply to a 
writer ? Why should the latter be tolerated more than the 
former, if, instead of denouncing injustice, vice, and impos**. 
ture, so that the innocent and unwary may be able to avoid 
them, he attacks and vilifies private character 1 In other 
words, if he libels his neighbor, why not be liable to punish- 
ment for doing so ? An attack on one's bead with a club, 
may do him less harm than an attack on hjis reputation 
with the pen. All hold it to be just that he should be 
punished for the former, and why not for the latter? 

But it may be urged that it is political liberty which is 
chiefly meant by liberty of the press. Granted that it is — 
what then ? Does not the same principle apply in both 
cases? . No sensible person woula maintain, for example, 
that any government ought to stand quietly by, without 
making any objection, while even the most insignificant of 
its public edifices were battered down ; everybody would 
admit, on the contrary, that it would be the duty of the 
government to call out a portion of its troops, and, if the 
assailants did not desist when warned once or twice to do so, 
cause them to be fired upon. But an inflammatory publica- 
tion may do ten times more mischief than the mob thus 



136 THE ACQUismoK ov KsowhSDQE [December, 

alluded to ; it may incite a larger and worse mob to commit 
more serious excesses. If it could not in this country, it is 
well known that it could in others ; and this shows that if 
disappointed politicians may write and pi^blish what they 
will m the United States without being able to do much 
harm, it does not follow that the same kind of persons would 
prove equally harmless in other countries. 

In forming an opinion as to whether the press of any 
country is <' shackled " or licentious, it is necessary to take 
these facts into consideration. We should also bear in mind 
that the press may be shackled and licentious at the same 
time. This is paradoxical, we are aware, but it is not the 
less true. What is worse is that it is true of the present 
condition of the press iri our own country. This, indeed, 
(does not arise from the spirit of our institutions ; on the 
'Contrary, it is in violation of that spirit. Republicanism is 
ffavorable to the liberty of the press in its best and most 
legitimate sense ; but bad legislation renders its influence on 
the press as bad as the worst kind of despotism. When 
persons of limited information and narrow minds, who are 
more careful of the interests of their party than those of 
their country, are entrusted with the making of laws, it is 
credulous to expect that the great principles of government 
will be carried out. As well might the architect present the 
plan. of a magnificient castle to one who has only crude no- 
tions on the subject of architecture and expect that the 
edifice will be in accordance with the design. The novice 
rnight do his best, but in vain ; still more hopeless would 
the case be if, instead of exerting himself to please his 
employer or the person for whose benefit the edifice is in- 
tended, he only tries to please his own friends, so that the 
latter may procure him a better job. 

Thus it is that while in theory there is no country in the 
world in which the press is freer than it is in this, there are 
very few enlightened nations in which it is really more 
.shackled. Before the reader frowns at this and indig<nantly 
denies that there is any truth in it, let him ask himself a few 
jsimple questions, such as the following : Does it make any im- 

Sortant difference to me, as a citizen, how I am prevented from 
oing any particular thing by legislation if I am prevented ? Is 
it not as bad to prevent me from buying a book by making it 
too dear as to issue an edict warning me not to read it under 
certain penalties ? Nay, is it not worse, since one might 
often evade the edict easily enough ; whereas, if he cannot 



1866,] nCPXDKD BT OUR LC0ISL4T0R8. 13T 

afford the book, it is beyond his reach ? It cannot be expected 
that the publisher will undertake to issue a work without 
expecting to profit by it; and this expectation must be 
founded on that of having a certain number of purchasers. 
But if he understands his business he is aware that if he 
charges too high a price he will have but few purchasers ; 
if he knows, upon the other hand, that if he does not charge 
such a price, even in the event of his having a reasonable 
number of customers, he has no alternative but to relinquish 
the project altogether or run the risk of injuring himself for 
the public good. 

Now, this is the position in which we have been placed in 
this country by our legislators. Congress does not, it is 
true, enact laws for the express purpose of prohibiting the 
circulation of books ; but it enacts such as have the same 
ultimate effect ; or, what is as bad, it omits to enact laws 
which would counteract the disadvantages under which pub- 
lishers now labor, and which compel them to have their 
books manufactured abroad, or at best to undertake the 
manufacture, of only a few. This might well seem in- 
credible to those who give themselves no trouble about 
causes ; but it is beyond dispute. There are publishers in 
this city, in Boston, and in Philadelphia, who find it more 
profitable to have their books manufactured in London, 
Paris, or Brussels, than in this coimtry. 

What a commentary is this on our free institutions ! 
Let no one think that it is caused by the compara- 
tively high price of labor in this country; it is caused 
mucn more by the taxes on paper and on all other 
materials used in manufacturing books. But assuming 
the fact to be otherwise, it is idle to deny that if this 
high price of labor is not caused by blundering legisla- 
tion it could be remedied by intelligent legislation. It is 
well known that the working population of almost every 
country in Europe exhibits a large surplus ; a large propor- 
tion of this surplus would be glad to emigrate to this country 
if any encouragement were held out to them. Instead of 
this they are rather discouraged. Many of those who suc- 
ceed in procuring sufficient to pay their passage to this 
country, together with a few dollars to support them until 
they get emplo3rment, are swindled out ot their labor and 
money to such an extent that they send word to their frienda 
at home warning them not to come to this '* land of 
Uberty." 



]38 THE ACQUiBiTioy OF KNOWLKDOX [December, 

The politiciaas, it is true, tell our people that none have 
such intellectual advantages as they ; that they are more in- 
tellectual than any other people ; that they can think what 
they like and give the utmost publicity to their thoughts 
without being prevented by judge, censor* or inquisitor, &c. 
This sounds very fine and the people think it is as true as it 
is plausible and flattering. Accordingly, they have a sort of 
contemptuous pity for those whom they regard as placed in 
the opposite position ; and in proportion as they entertain 
this feeling they regard themselves as superior beings, whose 
privilege it is to be arrogant and overbearing. We are well 
aware that it is much more agreeable to flatter than to point 
out faults in this way. But we know the latter does more 
good, and hence we prefer it. 

As there are many of those who regard themselves as 
belonging to the enlightened class whom it is difficult, if not 
impossible, to convince that we have not more intellectual 
privileges in this country than any other people possess, not- 
withstanding the undeniable facts we have mentioned, we 
will make a comparison or two. It is admitted readily enough 
that some of the literary institutions of Europe are superior 
to the corresponding institutions of this country, because the 
former are old and the latter young. But as for the subjects 
of the despots^ having as much facility in procuring books 
and reading them as the citizens of the great Republic of the 
West, that they consider out of the question. But the truth 
is that they have much more. In other words, it is we who 
are shackled in this respect, not the subjects of the despot- 
isms ; although, if the republican spirit were duly carried 
out, the fact would be reversed, as already intimated. 

It is as true of books as of any other commodities, that 
those who use them most manufacture or import them on the 
largest scale. Do we do either in proportion to our popula- 
tion ? Certainly not. When we published most — that is, 
when paper and all other materials for book-making cost less 
than half what they do — ^we had by no means the pre-emi- 
nence in this respect. A few statistics will illustrate the 
fact and show how much our orators are mistaken, at least 
how much they deceive us, when they tell us what great ad- 
vantages we have over others in the means of acquiring 
knowledge. It appears from the most careful statistics that 
more books were published in this country from 1S55 to 
1858, both years inclusive, than during any other equal 
period of our national existence. Now let us see what the 



1866.] IXFEDED BT OUB LlOISIiATOBS. 139 

numbers were. The number published in I8669 according 
to " Norton's Annual Book List," including new editions, 
reprints of English works, translations, &c., was 1,092 ; from 
the same authority we learn that 751 new books, .new editions, 
reprints^ and translations were published during the six months 
of 1866 ending in July. In the ** Addenda" to Roorbach's 
'* Bibliotheca Americana," we have an analysis from which 
it appears that from January 1, 1856, to March, 1858 — a little 
more than two years — 5,362 volumes were published, includ- 
ing school-books, essays, reprints, translations, &c. 

If neither of these accounts does not exaggerate the real 
number, it certainly does not diminish it ; and there are 
none of our readers who do not remember what a large pro- 
portion of worthless books were published during these 
years — a larger number, we trust, than will ever be published 
again of the same stamp. It will also be remembered that 
several publishers made a habit of announcing the tenth, 
often the twentieth, edition of a '* sensation " book before the 
first was entirely disposed of. We know instances ourselves 
in which the title-pages for several editions were printed the 
same day, so that all that was necessary to constitute a new 
edition was to insert the proper title-page ; |the rest was 
already done. Of course tnese ** new editions " swelled the 
official numbers to a considerable extent ; but the grand 
total is small, after all, when compared to the annual number 
of books published in the principal countries of Europe. 
This we will show presently ; but before we do so let us re- 
mark, as a matter of justice, that the fault does not lie with 
the American people. None have a more inquiring turn ; 
none are more ready to buy books, or more willing to pay 
for them ; but, although their means are, in general, at least 
equal to those of any other people, they cannot afford to pay 
the high prices which, owing to the blundering legislative 
alluded to our publishers and importers have to charge in 
order to, make a living by their business. 

The politicians who, by their thoughtlessness and stu- 
pidity, place us in this position take care to tell us on from 
time to time, in what a lamentably benighted condition the 
principal nations of Europe are. These platitudes are so 
often repeated that in time many of our pastors accept them 
as truths ; and, accordingly, we have heard more than one 
announce them from the pulpit, fervently thanking God that 
we are not like those unhappy people— the Freneh, the 
Germans, and even the English*— who, except the higher 



140 THE ACQuismoK OF KNowLBDOB [December, 

order, or " privileged class," can never see a book any nearer 
to their reach than the bookseller's window. 

First let us turn to France and judge from a few facts how 
benighted the people of that country must be as compared to 
ourselves. In 1855, be it remembered, the total number of 
American publications that could be called books by any 
stretch of courtesy was 1,092. We have already indicated 
our authority for this. Now we will quote a trade authority 
— the Journal de la Librairie — ^which would be accepted as 
such in any part of the world in which good books are read 
and valued. This periodical tells us that during the same 
year 6,285 literary works were published in France, not to 
mention scientific works; it shows that the number of musical 
compositions alone was greater than that of all our books 
put together, including reprints, new editions, translations, &c. 
It may be replied that although France thus issues so many 
thousands more than we in one particular year, she does 
not exhibit such a preponderance, in general, in proportion 
""Po her population as compared to ours ; but the fact is not so. 
She has always, during our existence as a nation, published 
vastly more than we,* and, it must also be admitted, a very 
different class of books, in general, from ours. According to 
the Journal already mentioned, the number of books pub- 
lished in France from November 1, 1811, to December 31, 
1855, amounted in round numbers to 271,994, exclusive of 
engravings, lithographs, musical compositions, &c., which 
would swell the number to nearly half a million of publica- 
tions. 

We have no statistics of the book trade in the United 
States for the corresponding period; but so far as we have 
statistics they present a striking contrast. In Truboer's 
^* Bibliographical Guide to American Literature" we find a 
table that gives the number of books of all kinds published 
in this couutry for the twelve years preceding 1842. The 
total is only 1,205 ; and of this number 592 were reprints. 
According to this estimate the average yearly issue lor the 
whole United States fell short of 101 books of all kiads; 
and the table from which we quote is copied by *' Appleton's 
New American Cyclopaedia," without any pretension that it 
does not give the full number. 

Now we will turn to another *' despotism "and see how 
its manufacturers of books will compare with our own. 
Take Austria, for example. This is a country which our 
politicians are in the habit of regarding with great pity on 



1866.] DCPKDRD BT OUR LE0IBLAT0B8. 141 

accouDt of the beDighted condition of the inhabitants, 
arising from their having no liberty of the press worthy of 
the name, no opportunities of obtaining information as we 
have, &c. But the statistics tell a very different story. 
The most recent we have at hand are those of Dr. Wurzbach, 
of the Vienna Imperial Library, who gives the number of 
publications issued in lJB64 as 24,039 ; of this number 6,136 
were Italian, 1,482 Hungarian, 816 Polish, &c.,the number 
of German books being 1 2,983. Thus, strange and incredible 
as it may appear, more books were published in Austria in the 
language of one of the eubject provinces of the empire than 
were published altogether in tUs country. Nay, according 
to the most reliable authorities, the number of volumes ot 
one class alone annually put in circulation in France exceeds 
10,000,000. As for Germany Proper, the average annual 
number of its book publications exceeds 10,000 — more than 
a dozen times the annual average in this country. 

The annual issue of bookn in England is very large, but 
not, as is generally supposed in this country, larger than it is 
in France or Austria, not to mention all Germany. On the 
contrary, it is far from being so large. But from evidence 
given before a select committee of the House of Commons 
in 1851, it appeared that of one class of books alone 
29,000,000 were annually sold. From the year 1800 to 
1827, according to the London Catalogue, there were 19,860* 
books published in England ; from 1816 to 1851 there were 
published, according to the same authority, 45,072, which 
would give an annual average of 1,252 ! 

Holland, whose population is estimated at only 3,000,000, 
published during the nine years from 1848 to 1866 1,799 
books. The same little country published in 1S56 1,859 
— ^many more than were published in the United States for 
nearly thirty millions of people. 

These statistics will doubtless seem incredible to many, 
but they are nevertheless true. Any one who doubts may 
easily ascertain for himself that we indulge in no exaggera- 
tion on the subject, but simply note facts that are within the 
reach of every intelligent person who will give himself 
the trouble to consult any respectable recent history of the 
book trade. 

But does it not seem more incredible still, and also more 
mortifying, that we are at least equalled, if we are not sur* 
passed, in the number of books we publish annually, by the 
Kussians ? The statistics which we have at hand from this 



143 TEE ACQUiflinoK OF KNOWLFDOB [December, 

Bource are not extensive or very recent, but they show that 
we cannot regard the great despotism of the North as in a 
very benighted condition, after all, as compared to ourselves. 
Prom statistics prepared by Dr. Vinzel, of the University of 
Dresden, it appears that in the year 1854 1,312 books were 
issued in Russia ; of these 861 were in the Russian language 
and 451 were in foreign languages. Now, what will our 
politicians say to this ? What will those in the habit of 
believing them say ? 

But let us consider the subject in another point of view. 
It is evident that in proportion as people use goods of any 
kind they must either manufacture or import them. Now, 
let us see how we will stand according to this test in com- 
parison with some of the despotisms of Europe. First we 
turn again to Franc'e. Consulting the Journal de la Librairie 
again we find that, notwithstandingthevastnumber of books 
manufactured in that country during the years 1854, 1855, 
and 1856, books were imported to the estimated value of 
$1,175,000. It will be seen that the country could well 
afford to pay this sum, considerable as it is, for foreign books, 
from the fact that it exported during the same period, 
nearly eight million dollars* worth ($7,975,060). Other 
authorities make the exports still larger. But we always 
prefer moderation in our statements to anything that may 
seem even to border on exaggeration. These figures show 
that the French publishers not only supply an immense de* 
mand at home for books, but also derive a large revenue 
from those they furnish foreign countries. Can our pub- 
lishers sav anything like this of themselves ? How much 
revenue do they derive from the books they export ? It is 
idle to conceal that the amount would hardly be worth men- 
tioning. 

Then it may be said that in imports, at least, we rank very 
high ; if we do not manufacture a large amount of books 
ourselves, we import a large number ; and this would ac- 
count by itself for our superior intelligence ; but, unfortu- 
nately, it is not true; the number we import is very mode- 
rate. If we glance at the statistics of those countries which 
export most books we shall find that we are by no means 
their best customers ; we shall see that some of the smallest 
of the third or fourth-rate kingdoms of Europe import as' 
well as manufacture more books than we do. This is true, 
for example, of Belgium ; it is true of Switzerland ; it was 
true of Sardinia before the recent changes took place in 



1866.] niPIDKD BT OUR LBOISI^VORS. 143 

Italy. It will, pei^haps, be thought worse than all that 
Spain imports more books than the United States, but such 
is really the fact. Nor can it be said that it is similarity or 
dissimilarity of language or religion that causes this differ- 
ence, since, although the lani^uage and religion of Eng- 
land are the same as our own, the latter is the largest 
buyer of French books next to Belgium and Germany ; 
whereas the United States rank in that respect after Spain 
and Sardinia. 

May it not well ba asked now what is the source of the 
superior intellectual advantages of which our politicians 
boast ? Perhaps we shall be told that it is to be found in 
our libaries ; but, alas! the contrast is still more striking. It 
may seem a gross exaggeration to say that the libraries of 
Paris alone contain more works than those of the whole 
United States put together ; nevertheless, such is the fact. 
But are the public admitted to the former as they are to the 
latter ? Are Frenchmen allowed into the great libraries of 
their country as freely as Americans are? Certainly. AH that 
la necessary in order to gain admission to the principal li- 
braries— the greatest in the world — ^is to procure an introduc* 
tion from some one known to the authorities as respectable ; 
and the object of this introduction is simply to exclude 
common thieves, who would steal the books and sell them. 
There is not a single country in Europe that has any preten- 
sions to enlightenment but has libraries which are open to 
the public, at least two or three times a week, on similar 
terms. No one is so poor but he can gain admission, if he 
is only believed to be honest by some respectable person 
who will give him a line to say so. If we have a few great 
libraries in this country — ^that is, libraries which all may 
enter and profit by without charge— they are the gifts of 
benevolent individuals, not institutions established for the 
public benefit by our politicians. 

We have already said that it is not republicanism which 
is to blame for those humiliating contrasts ; and we have also 
said that they are not caused by any remissness or any lack 
of appreciation of intelligence or knowledge on the part of 
our people. Our form of government is quite as favorable 
to the manufacture of books, the increase of knowledge, and 
the general development of the human mind, as that of 
England, France, or any other country. The great difficulty 
is, that we have too many politicians and too few statesmen. 
Men who know little or nothing about books themselvea 



144 THE AGQUiBtnoK OF KNOWLEDO* [Dccemberi 

cannot be expected to do much to encourage or increase their 
circulation. Their books are their newspapers ; these, 
indeed, they do encourage, because they think they con- 
tribute to their fame as well as to their interest ; and, ac- 
cordingly, we can show as large a circulation of newspapers 
as any country. Neither England, nor France, nor Qermany» 
can approach us in this department ; nay, regarding the 
circulation of the newspapers as a criterion of intelligence 
and intellectual activity and ability, we surpass the Q-reeks 
and Romans in their palmiest days ! 

But this will not do. Well-conducted papers are useful, 
interesting things ; and there is a good deal to be learned from 
them. For one of this character, however, there are ninety- 
nine of the opposite. The latter are empty, dull, and vicious 
just in proportion as books are scarce. Now, cannot this 
state of things be remedied ? If we thought not, we would 
have said nothing about it. We would much rather have 
spoken in the opposite sense. We have already alluded to 
the principal cause ; but it is not any one law or series of 
laws that have produced such injurious results. The general 
tendency of our legislation is to prevent the growth ot sound 
intelligence instead of promoting it. 

We do not say that even the worst of our politiciana 
design to discourage intellectual progress ; hue this does 
not mitigate the evih No matter what the design of 
our legislators is, the results are the same if laws are 
passed which force our publishers either to buy their paper, 
printing, binding matenals, &c., abroad, or avoid publiBhing 
any books except those of a popular kind, which would 
be likely to have a pretty large sale, even at the high 
prices which they must charge for them inorder to do 
justice to themselves. Had no laws been passed having an 
obvious tendency to increase the price of books so as to place 
them beyond the reach of a large proportion of the people^ 
this would not have justified our legislators in allowing this 
state of things to continue. It is their duty, not only to avoid 
enacting laws which are adverse to the progress of intel- 
ligence ; it is incumbent on them to enact laws for the ex- 
press purpose of encouraging that progress 

In making these remarks we are not at all unmindful of our 
common-school system. In general this is very good ; it does 
much service. But who needs to be told that the best of our 
conamon schools do no more than to lay the groundwork of a 
plain education ? Were the school-books even cheap, which ia 



1866.] IMPEDED BT OUR LEGISLATORS. 145 

far froih being the case^other books would be required, even by 
«' the masses.^' 1$ they cannot afford them, their intelligence 
will always be of the schooUboy kind, except it be true that 
they get all the additional information they need from the 
newspapers* If they only need to be told what are the qualifi- 
cations of certain candidatesfor office, whatgreatabilities they 
possess, and how full of integrity and patriotism they are ; and 
what stupid, unprincipled miscreants are theiropponents; how 
unfit the latter are for any office ; how they ought to be in- 
mates of a prison rather than of any respectable establishment. 
If *^ the people^' only required intelligence and information 
of this kind, then, indeed, it might be admitted without hesi- 
tation that they were in no need of books, at least that they 
want no better works than the cheapest of the yellow-cover 
class. 

If our legislators did nothing worse than to secure a 
monopoly for the paper manufacturers, would it not have 
been bad enough? would it not have justified the charge of 
discouraging the publication of books? The paper manu- 
facturers are wealthy; they can afford to give handsome 
presents; therefore they must be '^protected.'' Those 
Europeans who would sell us paper in our own cities for less 
than half what they do are prevented by various enactments 
from doing so ; and the consequence is that our publishers 
have to go to London, Paris, or Brussels, as already inti- 
mated, and get all the materials for their books there, taking 
the latter home with them fully manufactured, even to the 
binding. The enemies of republicanism may well ask who can 
recommend a system that leads to such results. Indeed, its 
wannest friends may do so, at the same time asking themselves 
are they unshaken in the high opinion they have hitherto enter- 
tained of republicanism and its influence. Nay, would it not be 
nearly sufficient to shake our own faith did we not know 
from experience that it is not republicanism that is to blame* 
but the politicians, whose aim is to secure money and influ- 
ence for themselves) 

The argument of the politicians who thus virtually 
shackle the press is that of the worst despots, uamely, that 
^* the government must be supported." They forget that it 
as a poor country that cannot support its government with- 
out taxing knowledge ; ours is certainly not such a country. 
We have ample sources of revenue without laying such 
taxes on the materials for manufacturing books as produce 
results like those indicated. 
VOL. XIV — ^NO. xxva. 10 



Hd THB ACQtJismoK OF KKowLEDOE [DecembeF; 

In all free countries taxes are regarded as rohmtary 
donations from the people to the government. This was the 
opinion expressed by Lord Chatham in bis great speecb on 
the just complaints of the American colonists; it is also the 
opinion -of Blackstone, Adam Smith, and many other 
authorities equally distinguished. But would any intelligent 
people agree to a tax which they knew would have a ten- 
dency to check intellectual activity and prevent the difusion 
- of knowledge ? 

It is the duty of every liberal government — ^indeed, of all 
governments worthy of the name — to avoid as much as possi- 
ble taxing what is calculated to exercise great inSuence on 
the wealth and character of the nation. This principle wa» 
recognized so early as the time of Solomon, and those who 
violated it did not do so with impunity. We learn from the 
best authority that Aaron was stoned to death for exacting 
unjust tribute ; and that at the commencement of the reigQ 
oFSotomon^s son the ten tribes seceded for a similar reason* 

The republican Athenians paid no direct taxes, except 
when convicted of crimes ; the government was supported 
not by taxes on the necessaries of life, on books, on paint- 
ings, or on statues, but chiefly by Tevies on the lands of the* 
Republic. The common people, far from paying any taxes, 
except whatever duties they had to pay indirectly for forcing 
commodities that could not be produced at home, received 
large appropriations annually from the state for public 
games and spectacles. Be it remembered that at these game» 
and spectacles the noblestproductionsofthe Athenian intellect 
were read by their authors and subsequently commented 
upon by critics, while the beErt|paintersand sculptors exhibited 
their works in a similar manner. Thus the government of 
the small and not very fertile state of Athens gave the people 
money to enable them to gain information and improve their 
minds, as well as to amuse and entertain themselves, instead 
of making knowledge and information so dear as to place 
them beyond their reach. 

Nor would Rome have been so long the mistresa of the 
world had she pursued a diffi^rent course ; she certainly 
would not had she pursued that of our politicians. During 
the Republic foreigners had to pay four-fifths of the expenses 
of government. Instead of imposing heavy taxes on the 
people, large donations of land were made to them periodic 
eally. At other times money and corn were distributed to 
them alternately. Even the great Caesar foaud it necessary 



1866.] IMPEDED BT OUR LEGIST^TORS. 141 

to pursae this course when bis power was at its climax and 
the world acknowledged his sway ; he did not dare, fond as he 
was of money, to impose taxes on the necessaries and rational 
pleasures of life much less on those productions whose 
influence distioguishes man from the brute. 

After Caesar's time it was, indeed, different. Although 
it was he who founded the empire, he was too wise a statesman 
to lay any heavy pecuniary burdens on the Romans. But his 
followers pursued the opposite course just in proportion as 
they are known to posterity as tyrants. Caligula and Nero 
were adiepts in the work of taxation, both direct and indirect. 
These, indeed, taxed knowledge and everything else that was 
good. But even they did not do so to such an extent as the 
legislators of the model Republic of the nineteenth century. 
Bad as Nero was, no Roman citizen had to go to a foreign 
country to manufacture Roman necessaries which could not 
be manufactured at Rome on account of heavy taxes imposed 
on the materials of which they were composed. 

As for republics, ancient or modern, we may search their 
histories in vain for a parallel to the condition of affairs to 
which we are reduced ourselves in the manner indicated. 
The nearest approach to it we find in the Republic of Venice. 
But we do not read in the darkest of her chronicles that any 
Venitian bookseller had to go to Paris, London, or Madrid, 
to manufacture books or other commodities for the use of 
his fellow-citizens. In other respects we should be sorry to 
compare the Republic of the United States to the Republic 
of Venice. The former, indeed, is not stained with so many 
crimes as the latter, and we trust never will. We make the 
comparison only so far as taxes on knowledge and intelligence 
and the encouragement or discouragement of intellectual 
progress are concerned ; and in this respect the Venetians 
had undoubtedly the advantage of us, notwithstanding the 
best we can say of our public schools. 

Our politicians are very fond of comparing this country 
to England in regard to freedom and intellectual advantages 
of all kinds. We do not deny that England deserves to be 
regarded as a model in many respects ; on the contrary, it 
always affords us pleasure to give prominence to the truth. 
But is it not a humiliating reflection that while England 
makes progress in rational intellectual liberty we retrograde ? 
Let this be denied as it may, it is nevertheless a fact— one 
that admits of the clearest proof. Even in the department 
of newspapers, how much more liberal is the British Parlia- 



148 THi ACQuisinoN OF KNonTZiEDOB [December, 

ment than the Congress of the United States ? Prior to 
1866, English newspapers were gubject to a stamp duty of 
one penny each ; the stamp may now be put on or not, at 
the option of the publisher ; but if it is put on it exempts 
the paper from postage ; and a dozen persons may send it 
about to each other through the mails without any cost 
whatever. How different is the fact with us ! If we sent 
the same paper as often as it is ^ent in England it would 
often cost us the price of a book, even at the high rate at 
which a book is sold in this country. 

Still more liberally, if possible, is the circulation of period- 
icals and books encouraged by the British Parliament. But 
what encouragement does Congress give in this respect ? How 
much does it cost to send a book, or even a periodical, from one 
city of the Republic to another? Those Englishmen who 
are most prejudiced against republics, and against our Re- 
public in particular, can hardly believe that we are so heavily 
taxed in this matter. 

Then compare the postage on letters. One penny takes 
a letter from any point in the British Islands to another, from 
the extreme south of Ireland to the extreme north of Scot- 
land ; but the least we can send a letter for beyond the 
precincts of the city or town in which we write is three 
cents. This, however, gives no idea of the difference in the 
cost. We have to pay at least three times as much for good 
letter or note paper as the English have. Can we say, then, 
that epistolary correspondence is as much encouraged by the 
Republican Congress as it is by the Royal Parliament ; nay, 
must we not admit that as compared with the latter the 
former discourages it ? And who will deny that epistolary 
correspondence is a means of intellectual improvement and 
culture? How many have become distinguished as authors 
who tell us themselves that it was by corresponding with 
their friends they learned to write with facility and elegance ? 
But no such testimony is necessary, sinceevery intelligent per- 
son is aware that there is no information or knowledge, how- 
ever important or profound, which may not be communicated 
in the epistolary form. Is it not, in a word, the form in which 
the most valuable discoveries and inventions have first been 
communicated to the world ? But, as we have seen, our 
politicians lay a double, treble — ^nay, quadruple — tax upon it, 
since they raise the price of paper, pens, ink, &c.« and finally 
charge us three cents postage if we only want to send a 
line from New York to Brooklyn ; two cents if we only 
want to send it to the next street in our own city. 



186^.] IMPSDBD BT OUR LEaiSLATORfl. 149 

Without entering into any particulars relative to French 
taxation we may say, in general terms, that the people are 
less heavily taxed than those of England or the United 
States. We are well aware that the reverse is what is gen- 
erally believed in this country ; but it is not so. The French, 
like the ancient Romans, make foreign nations, to whom 
they furnish so much of the products of their industry, pay 
a large proportion of the expenses of government ; and the 
greater part of the remainder is derived from the land. But 
it is sufficient for our purpose that, let what may be taxed 
in France, no one can justly say that there is a tax upon 
knowledge in that country, or that its goverment discourages 
intellectual progress. Her literary and scientific institutions 
are too famous ibr their superior excellence to render any 
demonstration of this face necessary. Not only the French 
Academy, the Institute, the Academy of Sciences, and the 
Jardin des Plautes, receive large an>jual contributions from 
the public treasury ; the University of France, and the College 
of France — two other great institutions — are equally favored 
and protected. If all this is not evidence that the develop- 
ment of the intellect is not discouraged in France, that 
French taxation does not place beyond the reach of French- 
men even the noblest productions of the human intellect, we 
have only to remember how incredibly cheap books of all 
kinds are sold throughout France. Everyone who has 
visited that country and taken any interest in the subject 
under consideration has been surprised to see books sold for 
about twenty-five cents of our money which, if printed in 
New York. Boston, or Philadelphia, would cost from a dol- 
lar and a half to two dollars. The books which are sold in 
Paris for a few sous would cost at least half a dollar or 
seventy-five cents if published in this country. And if we 
take a Paris book that costs five sous and compare it with 
a New York book that costs fiity or seventy-five cents, our 
surprise will be increased rather than diminished ; for we 
shall find not only that the paper of the former is much bet- 
ter than that of the latter, but, also, that it is more correctly 
and more legibly printed. 

We certainly do not speak from personal feeling in this 
matter ; we have no complaint to make on our own part. 
Others may upbraid the nation with want of appreciation of 
their labors, and mourn that the age in which they live lags 
so slowly behind them ; but we can make no such prcten-* 
sions. h paper, printing, &c.f are excessively dear in this 



150 tKDKciNT PUBUOATioKs. [December, 

country, the liberal patronage which we receive enables us to 
meet the cost without much difficulty, and we never bad any 
ambition for accumulating money for its own sake. We 
treat the subject, then, as we do any other in which the pub- 
lic has an interest. There is no good reason why all the ma- 
terials necessary for the publication of books and the diffu- 
sion of knowledge should be nearly twice as expensive in this 
country as they are in France. England, and Germany — ^some 
of them three times as expensive. We regret that bad legisla- 
tion is the cause of it, and that nothing reflects more discredit 
on the Republic. In a word, as long as the present state of 
things continues, as we have indicated — as long as our pub* 
Ushers find it more profitable to get their books manufac- 
tured in Europe than at home — ^instead of boasting of our self- 
government, we should indignantly protest against this 
penny-wise-and-pound-foolish policy of our legislators ; for, 
however harsh or incredible it may seem to those who do 
not bestow much thought on the subject, certain it is that 
the tendency of a certain portion of our laws is to impede the 
acquisition of knowledge. 



AuT. VII. — Laua Veneris and other Poems and Ballads, By ALors- 
NON Charles Swinburne. 12mo, pp. 328. New York : 
GarletoD, 1866. 

. It is often difficult to distinguish a depraved taste as a 
cause from unprincipled avarice. We cannot undertake to 
determine to which should we attribute the selection of this 
book for republication in this country ; but there can be no 
question among those who examine it and are capable of 
forming an intelligent opinion of its character that it has 
resulted from one defect or the other. We wish the reader 
to judge the publisher as dispassionately and fairly as 
possible, remembering that sometimes one cannot help hav- 
ing a depraved taste. This is the case when not only has 
his education been neglected, but he h-is been placed in cir- 
cumstances in which his natural taste, if he had any, has 
been vitiated by " evil communications.'* 

It is none of our business to inquire whether Mr. Carleton 
should be placed in this category or not ; wo have nothing 
to do with any one's private affairs ; we have a right to 
criticise only what he does in his public capacity, and we 
have no wish to do more. In the present instance this. 



1B66.] INDECfiVT rCTBU€ATtON8« l5l 

indeed, is quite enough ; no other publisher, not even Peter- 
son, of Philadelphia, has evinced a more depraved taste ; 
no publisher in this country has so flagrantly offended pub- 
lic decency* 

This is no new discovery or hasty conclusion on our part. 
Six years have now elapsed since we denounced his attempt 
to introduce to the youth of this countrv the novels of 
Balzac, which had been suppressed ev^en in France for their 
gross and shanseful immorality ; novels in which adultery 
and fornication, moral and r&ligious infidelity of all kinds, are 
praised as virtues, while marriage and the duties pertaining 
to it, piety and veneration for the beneficent and good, are 
ridiculed as superstitious weaknesses. These performances, 
with the brand ot infamy stamped upon them in turn by 
France, England, and Germany, were sought to be intro- 
duced to the wives and daughters of America as the best 
specimens of modern literature. 

We think we may now refer with just pride to our ex- 
posure of that indecent attempt in the article entitled 
** French Romances and American Morals," in our number 
lor December, 1860 ; for not only did it elicit the approba- 
don of the most respectable journals in all parts of the country, 
but it had the effect to foree the publisher to relinquish the 
enterprise after two or three volumes of the series had been 
published. If our memory is not at fault the volume which 
wa^ in press when our article appeared is the only one is- 
sued since, although the publisher had announced in all 
the papers, with his characteristic flourish, that arrangements 
had been made for the issue of a complete duodecimo edi- 
tion of Balzac's works. Whether it was a depraved taste 
or unprincipled avarice, or both combined, that caused the 
attempt which ended thus, we leave the reader to judge. 

It is by no means the only instance, however, in which 
Mr. Carleton has offended the public, before the present, by 
selecting foreign works for publication in this country which 
scarcely any other publisher could be induced to issue. In 
proof of this we need only mention the attacks which he has 
published both on the great Founder of Christianity and on 
his Apostles. Bad taste alone would hardly account for the 
publication of works of this character ; we fear that avarice 
and want of principle had more to do with the circumstance* 

Before this can be fairly determined, however, it is neces- 
sary to bear in mind two or three more facts. All the 
respectable publishers of London refused to have anything 



i."2 ixDBCEXT PtTBLiCATioKS. [DecembcT, 

to do with <' Laus Veneris," and all honest critics denounced 
it. Those who thought the author^s previous works pass- 
able, though rather dull, spurned this as something too filthy 
to be touched. Even Moxon & Co., after issuing an edition 
of the book were so much ashamed of what they had done 
that they withdrew it at once— -that is, they suppressed it 
as an indecent thing. 

In this country it has been regarded and treated in the 
same light. Messrs. Ticknor & Fields had published some 
of Mr. Swinburne's former ejOTorts, but they did not hesitate 
to exclude "Laus Veneris" from their repertoire. We are 
assured that other American publishers examined and threw 
it aside in a similar manner ; but it seems it was all the more 
attractive to Mr. Carleton on this account. 

It is well known how easily those who are criticised 
can discover that their critics have been actuated by 
some diabolical motive or other. Now we shall doubt* 
less be told that had this book been published by 
Ticknor & Fields we would have found no fault with it. 
We admit that there is one good reason for this accusation^ 
namely, that we have never spoken in«uch terms of a book 
emanating from that house as we have of Carleton's books ; 
but it is because the former have never issued auch as the 
latter. This is a fact which every one of our readers will 
sustain us in. There are no American publishers of whose 
books we have spoken in higher terms than we have of those 
of Ticknor & Fields ; but what true friend of American liter- 
ature will deny that they deserve this distinction ? At the 
same time, it is not true that we have praised every publica- 
tion of theirs which we have taken up to examine. We 
need not go beyond Swinburne's own books for a refutation 
of this, for we never had a very high opinion of that gen- 
tleman's performances, although we had every disposition 
to do him full justice. Our critique on his ** Queen Mother 
and Rosamond," as published by Messrs. Ticknor & Fields, 
in our number for last June* will show that, far from bestow- 
ing exaggerated praise on the book, we assigned to it but a 
/ifih rank in the department to which it belongs. This was 
no hasty judgment, but the result of a careful and impartial 
examination ; or if we had any partiality it was undoubtedly 
in favor of the Aitbor. Yet, the terms in which we intro- 
duced the book to our readers are the following : 

•pp. 183-8. 



1866.] INDECENT PUBUCATIONS. 158 

'*It 19 easj enough to write in a tragical manner; there is good 
authority for the opinion that it may be done so as to make, not only 
men, bat angels weep, withont any genins and with but little talent, and 
yet, perhaps, there is nothing more difficalt than to produce a good 
tragedy. Sufficient proof of this may be found in the fact that not more 
than a dozen, including ancients and moderns, have entirely succeeded in 
doing so. But shall we rank Mr. Swinburne among this dozen? By no 
means. Shall we rank him in the second class, which numbers some two 
dozen? The answer to this, too, must be a negative; so would the third 
and fourth questions; but the fifth rAight be an affirmative. Tliat is, we 
might rank our author among the five hundred who have written some 
▼ery passable performances which they have called tragedies.^' 

We gave our reasons in full for this and sustained them 
by quotations from both the 'pieces named. Nor did we 
omifi to point out the spurious morality of *' The Queen 
Mother," or the bad taste and lack of judgment with which 
Denise, the silly mistress of Charles, was invested with the 
character of a heroine. All this impressed us with a very 
low opinion of the culture of Mr. Swinburne; and to our 
last extract from the ** Queen Mother" — having previously re- 
marked that the tragedy *' ends rather farcically " — we ap- 
pended the following observation : " There is nothing instruct- 
ive in this; nothing that excites either horror or pity; 
neither a good example nor a good precept is presented to us." 
—p. 187. 

We regarded this book as passable, however — such* 
as one fond of that sort of thing might take up when 
he had nothing better to read ; and we said so. In short, 
we never took up so dull and aimless a reprint with Ticknor 
& Fields* imprint upon it ; though we had to examine many 
a worse one, in every sense of the term, bearing the imprint 
of those American publishers who care little for the morality 
or immorality, the poetry, or want of poetry, of any book, only 
in proportion to the number of dollars which it brings into 
their pockets. 

So much, then, for our motive in taking up Laus Veneris 
as we did Balzac's similar performances, to warn the pure 
and credulous against the filth which forms its staple, assur- 
ing them that the so-called *« Leaves of Grass," whose char- 
acter we also exposed, was a decent book of its kind — and a 
brilliant one withal — compared to this. We have no dispo- 
sition to meddle with such books, but no ulcer is so loath- 
some but that the surgeon must apply his lancet to it in 
order to preserve the healthy surrounding parts from its 
noxious influence. He is bound to do so though the putrc- 
Bcent and fetid matter which it contains should squirt into fai^ 



154 INDECXNT Pt7BuCATtoN8. [Decetnb^r, 

face. And those who look on must regard the operation in 
the same light, and remember that they are over-fastidious 
who think that they will suffer any serious injury from seeing 
even the worst gangrene dissected when there is neither in- 
fection nor contagion to be apprehended. 

It is natural enough that a writer of Mr. Swinburne's 
mental calibre, degree of culture, and grade of morality should 
write a book like this when he failed to attract much atten- 
tion in the legitimate way. Seeing that he could collect but 
a very small audience when he wrote in a style which was 
somewhat in accordance with that of civilized society, he 
turns round and adopts that of the brothel and the gambling' 
house. That this is precisely what he has done we will now 
proceed to show, although we must sully our pages in doing 
so. Let us first turn to the piece which gives its title to the 
book, and see whether its character is such as to justify our 
remarks. We think there can be no dispute on this point 
after we have given a specimen or two. It rarely satisfies 
Mr. Swinburne to be merely immoral ; he must scoff at re* 
ligion at the same time, as in the following stanza : 

" Lo, she was Urns when her clear limbs enticed 
All lips that now grow sad with kissing Christ, ' 
Stained with blood fallen from the feet of Grod, 
The feet and hands whereat our soals were priced. 

Alas. Lord, surely thon art great and fair, 
But lo her wouderfally woven hair I 

And thou didst heal us with thy piteous kiss ; 
But see now, Lord ; her month is lovelier* . 

She is right fair ; what hath she done to thee 9 
Nay, fair Lord Christ, lift up thine eyes afid see ; 

Had now thy mother such a lip— like this? 
Thou knowest how sweet a thing it is to me.'^ — pp. 8, 4. 

Keed we say that there is not a single poetical line in 
this that would relieve its gross indecency ? Many writers 
have mocked religion as well as virtue ; but Spinosa, who 
had no pretensions to the poetic gift, is the only one we re- 
member who did so in such dull terms as this. The compar- 
ison does injustice, ho wever, to the author of the Tractatus 
Theologico-PoliticuSi for if the latter erred he did so in a 
philosophical manner ; he adopted the language of decorum 
and refinement, and addressed himself only to the learned, so 
that the illiterate might not suffer from his teachings if their 
tendency was injurious to society. Mr. Swinburne, on the 
contrary, addresses himself to the most vulgar class, and 



1866.] INDEOENT PCfiLlCATlOKB. 156 

panders to those passions which they possess in common 
with the brute. His American publisher compares him to 
Byron ; but that veracious individual might as well comparo 
his own daubing in his *' Artist in Cuba " and one or two 
other similar performances to the inimitable caricatures of 
Hogarth. Even in " Don Juan '* Byron never forgets that 
he is a 'gentleman ; still less does he forget that to be bawdy 
and profane is not to be poetical. After a good deal of raving, 
in which there is not a trace of genuine passion, our poet 
gives us one of his characteristic descriptions of love, but 
one stanza more is all we can feel justified in extracting from 
**Laus Veneris": 

** For I came home rigbt heavjf, with small cheer, 
And lo my love, my oi^n bouI's heart, more dear 
Than mine own soul, more beautiful than God, 
Who hath my being between the hands of her." — p. 19. 

Comparisons like ** more beautiful than God " &c., need 
no comment. Yet this is by no means the most objection- 
able piece in the volume before us. All that is great, good, 
ani venerable in earth and heaven is subjected to mockery 
and derision in order that love, or rather the most brutal lust, 
may have the more glory, as if the men of the present day 
had become so enervated and spiritless that h was necessary 
to stimulate their passions in this way to prevent the species 
from becoming extinct. 

Lucretius has, indeed, great faith in the power of love — > 
alma Venus — and no faith in God. Thus far we may 
compare Mr. Swinburne to the author of De Rerum Nor 
tuTQj but there is not the slightest resemblance after 
this. Lucretius errs, it is true, most grieviously, but he 
does so in a strain that is beautifully poetical, frequently 
sublime, and philosophical withal. If it can be said of any 
poet that the light which leads him astray is from heaven, it 
can of Lucretius; but we really see no light from anywhere 
in the rhymes of his modern imitator. As for Ovid, we 
would no more compare the author of ** Laus Veneris " to 
him than we would compare the song of the corn-crake 
to that of the nightingale. 

But let us turn to another poem or two before tve ask 
the reader to decide whether we judge Mr. Swinburne or his 
publisher too harshly. Our author overflows so much with 
nastiness that even *' A Christmas Carol " suggests nothing 
to him but the coarsest mockery. In a poem; bearing this 
. title the following stanzas occur: 



156 iNDECENi! PUBLiOATiuNs. [December, 

^^ Joseph had three workmen in hiH stall, 
To serve hhii well upon, 
The first ot tliera were Peter and Paul, 
The third of theen was John. 
Mary, God's liandinaiden, 
Bring qs to thy Son's ken. 

* If yonr child be none other man's 

But if it be very mine, « 

The bedstead shall be gold two spans, 
The bedfoot silver fine.' 

Mary that made God mirth. 
Bring us to tby Son's birth. 

* If the child be some other man's, 

And if it be none of mine, 
The manger sliall be straw to spans, 
Betwixen kine and kino.' 

Mary that made sin cease. 
Bring us to thy Son's peace." 

—pp. 242, 243. 

Had Tom Paine pretended to be a poet he would certainly 
have given us something less disgusting than this ia the 
form of poetry ; otherwise the enterprising individual who 
published his '^Age of Reason" would hardly have at- 
tempted his *• poems." 

According to Mr. Swinburne the only thing truly great 
is love, that is lust. The love which man has, and ought to 
have, for woman is the burden of all his rhapsodies; yet a 
fouler libeller of the sex than he has never set himself for- 
ward as its champion ; were woman what he represents her 
she would be an object of loathing rather thau of love. 
Most people think that women who live a religious life are 
not likely to be vicious ; but, according to our poet, these 
are the worst class, and religious men he regards in the same 
light. He devotes a long, tedious rhapsody entitled *^ 8t. 
Dorothy " to the elucidation of this doctrine. Choosing 
Borne as the scene, our poet proceeds to show how easily 
pious people seduce each other. When overtures are made 
to the lady she first pretends to be shocked, but soon per- 
mits herself to be persuaded. Before she yields to her own 
lust, as well as that of her seducer, she is made to offer up 
u sort of burlesque prayer, as follows : 

**• Ohrist king, fair Christ, that knowest all men's wit 
And all tlie feeble fashion of my ways, 

perfect God, that from all yesterdays 
Abidest whole with morrows perfected, 

1 pray theo by thy mother's holy head 
Thou help me to do right, that I not slip. 



1866.] INDECENT PUBLICATIONS. 15t 

I have no speech nor strength upon m j lip, 

Except thoii help me who arc wise and sweet. 

Do this too for those nails that clove thy feet, 

Let me die maiden after many pains. 

Thongh I he least among thy handmaidens, 

Douhtless I shall take death more sweetly thus.^^— p. 269. 

The additional part of her story is too obscene to be 
quoted. And still worse, if possible, is the piece entitled 
" Dolores •' {Notre Dame dcs Sept Douleurs). It is difficult to 
select anything from this that is fit to be read ; indeed, there 
18 nothing of the kind in it. We can only give as a sample 
ft stanza or two which, however objectionable in this dress, 
are not so ipuch so as others in the same piece : 

" O garment not golden hnt gilded, 

garden where all men may dwell, 
tower not of ivory, but builded 

By hands that reach heaven from hell ; 
O mystical rose of the mire, 

O honse not of gold but of gain, 
O house of unquenchable fire, 

Our Lady of Pain 1 

Who gave thee thy wisdom f what stories 

That stung thee, what visions that smote! 
Wert thou pure and a maiden, Dolores, 

When desire took thee first by the throat? 
What bud was the shell of a blossom 

That all men may smell to and pluolcf 
What milk fed the first at what bosom ? 

What sins gave thee suck? " — pp. 172, 178. 

In reproducing these passages we are av^are that we have 
sullied our pages; but had we not done so we could hardly 
have expected our readers to believe that any American pub- 
lisher would reprint a booii of the real character of '* Laus 
Veneris." The fact that so many of Swinburne's own country- 
men refused to have anything to do with the worii, that the 
publishers of his former performances spurned it as a filthy 
thing, might indeed have been regarded at least as presump- 
tive evidence of its indecency. But all do not inform them- 
selves on such topics ; besides, many have a nocion that they 
are often the best books which are condemned in Europe. 
Condemned books are indeed sometimes witty; they are 
occasionally philosophical as well as poetical, but for the 
rest they are seldom worth much. It is true that the vol- 
ume before us has no such redeeming feature, and this may 
be urged as reason why we should not have noticed it. 
We admit that it is too dull and prosy to do much harm, 



168 INDECENT PUBLICATIONS. [December, 

even among the most depraved and illiterate class, and that 
it is too coarse and vulgar to exercise any influence among 
the cultivated class. But there is another fact which has to 
be taken into account; there is no book so vicious and 
worthless but that its publisher can induce certain papers to 
praise it. Even respectable papers are sometimes imposed 
upon in this way ; '* first-rate notices " find their way into 
them in which obscenity and licentiousness receive the name 
of " warmth," " effervesence of genius," &c. ; and thus the 
innocent and pure are led to read performances which are 
only fit for the most abandoned* 

So far, then, as the author is concerned we might have 
allowed the book to fall unheeded into the oblivi6n to which 
it is destined! But is the publisher the less to blame because 
the poisonous drug which he presents ^as a wholesome 
aliment is compounded in such a stupid, clumsy manner 
as to be innocuous ? If one publisher may corrupt the 
youth of our country with impunity, why may not another? 
The police will interfere, it seems, only with poor wights 
who issue nine or ten pages of obscene matter with a yellow 
cover, and with those who issue pictures of a similar char- 
acter ; it would appear that what they find in book-form, 
bound in muslin, &c., is all right, no matter how much it 
outrages public decency. 

But ii the authorities will connive at vice and licentious- 
ness where they find them in fine garments or in tinsel, the 
public should vindicate itself. Our self-respect requires that 
if a bookseller palms off an indecent book on us to-day for 
a decent one, we ought not to take his word to-morrow when 
he presents us another book. Who would not shun the 
broker who had intentionally given him brass for gold ? and 
might not a vicious, licentious book injure one's family much 
more than the loss of the gold for which brass was fraudu- 
lently given ? Let no one do, however, but what he thinks 
fair and just; if a publisher is justified in selecting for pub- 
lication in this country the most objectionable books pub- 
lished abroad— books which vie with each other in pander- 
ing to vice and seeking to bring religion into contempt — 
then Mr. Carleton is right and ought to be encouraged, and 
we are wrong in finding any fault with so enterprising a per- 
son. 



1866.] BDUGATION IK CONGRESS. 159 

Art. VIII. — Speeches in Congresa, and other Documents, 1866. 

On almost the first day of the first session of the present 
Congress a resolution was introduced by Mr. Donnelly, of 
Minnesota, as follows : 

Wherea^^ Republican institntions can find permanent safety only npon 
the basis of the universal intelligence of the people ; and, 

Whereaty The great disasters which have afSioted the nation and deso- 
lated one-half of its territory are traceable in a great degree to the 
absence of common schools and general education among the people of 
the lately rebellious States ; therefore, 

Besolvtd^ That the Joint Committee on Reconstruction be instructed 
to inquire into the expediency of establishing in this capital a national 
bureau of education, whose duty it shall be to enforce education without 
regard to ra'ce or color upon the population of all such States as shall fall 
below a standard to be established by Oongress ; and to inquire whether 
snob a bureau should not be made a permanent and essential part of any 
such system of reconstruction. 

The above was argued by the House of Representatives. Al- 
though it had especial reference to the poor whites and newly 
made freedmen at the South, and seemed designed to introduce 
the subject of education as an element of the plan of reconstruc- 
tion,afcer considerable deliberation and discussion it passed the 
House near the close of the session, providing for a depart- 
ment of education in our government, with duties and privi- 
leges relating to the subject of education throughout the 
whole country. Preliminary to the special consideration of 
this new department we may briefly advert to other subjects 
of an educational character which came before Congress, and 
some of which are affected by the department in question. 
Bills for the establishment of a mining bureau and for the 
granting of one million acres of the public land for a mining 
college were introduced at different times by Mr. Stewart, of 
Nevada. Their object is to develop the mineral opportuni- 
ties of the country. Although the subject was treated with 
favor, nothing definite was arranged. Similar favor was 
shown to a bill proposing to grant a million acres of the 
public land for the benefit of the public schools of the Dis- 
trict of Columbia. 

The author of the above resolution introduced a petition 
coming from the National Normal School Association asking 
for such a grant of land as has been made for agricultural 
colleges, in order to establish State normal schools. This 
memorial states that there are 2,500,000 children in the 
Southern States, and that normal schools are needed to pre- 
pare the 50,000 teachers necessary to instruct them. The 



160 EDUCATION IK coKORSBs. [December, 

question of repealing the internal revenue tax on school 
books was considered and appropriately referred, as well as 
the more important petition that Congress send to every 
public school in the country a copy of every public docu- 
ment published.* ' 

The act of 1862 making a grant of land to the States for 
agricultural colleges and the study of the mechanic arts 
was taken up with reference to an extension of the time in 
which States may accept the provisions of the act, and to 
provide for the admission of all persons to the privileges of 
their colleges without distinction of color. The Military and 
Naval Academies were considered with a view to provide for 
the admission to the privileges of the same of those who have 
been sons of officers or privates who have died in the war. 
A change in the age and requirements for admission was 
contemplated in the same bill. 

On February 15 a bill was introduced by Mr. Garfield, 
of Ohio, providing for a Bureau of Education. A select 
committee on this proposed bureau reported a bill for the 
same, which was rejected by a vote of 69 to 61. But near 
the close of the session a reconsideration of the vote took 
place, when, by a vote of SO to 44, the bill was passed by 
the House of Representatives as follows : 

Seotidn 1. That there shall be established at the citj of Washington 
a Department of Edacation for the parpose of coUectiog such statistics 
and facts as shall show the condition and progress of edacation in the 
several States and Territories, and of diffusing such information respect- 
ing the organisation and management of schools, the school sjstem, and 
methods of teaching, as shall aid the people of the United States in the 
establishment and maintenance of different school systems, and othervriae 
promote the cause of education throughout the country. 

Seo. 2. That there shall be appointed by the President, by and vith 
the advice and consent of the Senate, a Oommissioner of Education, who 
shall be intrusted with the management of the department herein estab- 
lished, and who shall receive a salary of $4,000 per annum, and who 
shall have authority to appoint one cnief clerk of his department, who 
shall receive a salary of $2,000 per annum; one clerk who shall reoeive 
a salary of $1,800 per annum, and one clerk who shall receive a salary of 
$1,600 per annum, which said clerks shall be subject to the appointing 
and removing power of the Oommissioner of Education. 

Sio. 8. That it shall be the duty of the Oommissioner of Education 
to present annually to Oongress a report embodying the results of his in- 
vestigations and labors, together with a statement of such facts and re- 
commendations as will in his judgment subserve the parpose for which 
this department was established. In the first report made by the Oom- 
missioner of Education under this act there shall be presented a state- 

* We would, however, have an exception in regard to CongresBional speeehea, 
for there are many of the Utter that would do the schools more harm than 
good. 



1866.] KDHGATION IK OONaRBSS. 161 

merit of the several graDts of land made bj CongreM to promote edaca- 
tion, and the manner in which these several trusts have been managed, 
the amoant of funds arising therefrom, and the annual proceeds of the 
■arae, as far aa the same can be determined. 

Sbo. 4. That the Commissioner of Public Bnildings is hereby author- 
ized and directed to farntsh proper offices for the use of the Department 
herein establibhed. 

Such is the bill recently passed by the House of Represen- 
tatives designed to constitute a Department of Education. So 
great is the importance in our country of the work of edu- 
cation that a measure like the above should be considered 
faithfully, not only by the legislators of the people, but by 
the people themselvies. The advantage of such a department 
is at the outset apparent in the assistance it will or ought 
to render to Congress in legislating upon this subject. The 
interests of education in their various aspects were brought 
before Congress, as we have seen above, and received with 
some favor ; yet there was a lack of general interest in 
regard to^them and failure to come to any decisive action. 
May it not he that the principal cause of this is a want of 
information, which statistics provided and laid befdre Con- 
gress in an annual report by the department in question 
would supply? for instance, in regard to agricultural grants 
for the purposes of education. Let it be ascertained where 
they have been made, whether for colleges, for agriculture, 
or mechanic arts, or for public schools. Let some idea of 
the results be communicated. Let statistics be presented 
with reference to the state and wants of education among 
the freedmen and poor whites of the South.* These might 

* We think our contribator might hare added others nearer home. Would 
it not be interesting to have statisUcs relative to *' the state and wants of educa- 
tion among the Congressmen themselves f " Is is not notorious that there are 
many ** honorable" gentlemen whose education has been sadly n^lectedf 
Why not make some provision for these ? If they were only taught the gram* 
mar of their mother tongue so that they oould speak with tolerable correct- 
ness it would be a gr^t advantage to the country. 

It would not take much to establish a school for this purpose in the neigh- 
borhood of Washington at which honorable gentlemen could receive private 
tuition in the elementary English branches, and have a lecture on taste and 
decency at least about once a week. It might be intimated in the latter, but 
of course in a very delicate manner, that it is not seemly for legislators to give 
each other the lie, or to drink so much lager-beer, or any kindred beverage, as 
would render them unable to distinguish whether they were standing on their 
heads or on their feet, &c. 

It oould Im so ammged, without anv great cost to the nation, that after 
having undergone some preparation in this way, they oould spend an hour each 
afternoon— l^ursdays and Sundays excepted— for six months, in oue of the 
recitation rooms of Georgetown College. If they could not be taught 
** the humanities" in this time, even by professors celebrated alike for their 
learning and for their success as instructors, thev would at least be taught to 
behave themselves in a manner becoming the high position they occupy— a 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVII. 11 



162 KDT7CATI0K IN CONGRESS. . [December, 

be accompanied with suggestions in reference to normal 
schools there, or for the establishment of public schools, or 
schools for giving instruction in agriculture and the mechanic 
arts. If land grants are to be made for the purposes of edu- 
cation, it should be seen to that they are properly applied 
and laid before such of the people as they are designed to 
profit. With reference to the land grants already made 
there is at present a state both of ignorance and distrust. 
Perhaps nothing would do more to correct this than a na- 
tional report setting forth their condition, nature, and objects. 
Like reports would he of the greatest help in the fiiture 
in making similar grants and superintending their execution. 
The new department, then, is calculated to afford the advan- 
tages of both an educational journal and superintendent of 
education for the nation. As a journal it gathers statistics 
and information respecting the condition and wants of educa- 
tion throughout the country. As a superintendent it sur- 
veys the field and lays before Congress and the people the 
resulting observations and suggestions. 

No part of the educational field so demands the atten- 
tion of such a department as the freedmen just emerging from 
a state of enforced ignorance. Philanthropic and religious 
societies are doing much for them, as well as voluntary indi- 
vidual influence ; but much more should be done, and there 
are abundant avenues for such a department to work through 
its statistics and observations, together with its suggestions 
in the reports to Congress and the people. One means has 
been alluded to in the normal schools for the education of 
colored teachers, the help of Congress in establishing which 
was asked for by the ^< Memorial ofthe National Normal School 
Association." As stated by Mr. Donnelly in the House, ^* such 
a measure is a necessity in the present condition ofthe South. 

pofdtion truly honorable in itself, bnt upon which thej bring contempt by their 
conduct. 

If they underwent a training of this kind they would be infinitely better 
qualified to legislate on education than they are at present ; and accordingly 
the public would have some confidence in their legislation on the subject. Had 
some sudi course been pursued in the past it would not have been necessary for 
us to write the article in this number entitled ** Hie Acquisition of Knowledge 
impeded by our Legislators." 

We trust we need hardly add that neither in this note nor in the paper 
alluded to do we mean to depreciate the intelligence or talents of those of our 
legislators who possess those qualifications. Far from doing so, we hold that 
there are men in both houses of Congress who are not surpassed in enlighten- 
ment or statesmanlilLe abilities by the members of any legislature in the world. 
All honor to these ; but we most empltatlcally deny that any honor is due to 
the illiterate mountebanlcs who are privileged to legislate on education or any 
other important subject only in virtue of bribery and fraud. 



1866.] CDUCATl )lf IK CONGRESS 168 

It is the very least that could be done la jastice to the great 
interests involved." 

But the poor whites are another class at the South who 
in like manner need such assistance as a department of the 
kind, if properly provided for and conducted, will render. 
That there is a large class of such citieens lamentably desti* 
tute of education may be seen from the fact that in the 
loyal white regiments raised in Arkansas not one man in 
ten could sign his name to the pay-roll. In a state so near 
the sources of education as Delaware, one-fourth of the 
whole adult population cannot read and write. We may go 
further than the freedmen and poor whites and say that edu- 
cation has been the exception, not the rule, in that portion of 
our country called the South. In 1350 three-quarters of a 
million of dollars were expended in the slave States in sup- 
port of public schools, while in the free states seven millions 
were expended. If we would rise above such results as fol- 
low a state of popular ignorance such as exists in States like 
Mexico, for instance, the great civilizer, education, must be 
called into active co-operation ; and when so much is to be 
done in so vast afield, is it not for the interest, if not the duty, 
of Congress to take such means to accomplish the work as 
seem to be afforded through such an instrumentality as a 
National Department devoted to the subject? Apart from a 
sound development of civilization in this section of the 
country, nothing can do more than a wide-spread system of 
education to correct and obliterate feelings consequent upon 
the rebellion* General Banks stated in the House, when this 
proposition was utider consideration, '* that although he did 
not underestimate the importance of legislative measures or 
constitutional amendments, or any action of Congress, or of 
the Executive Departments, he thought he was justified in 
saying that any or all of such measures would have less 
effect than this bill. The true source of power that must 
be looked to for the establishment of the government in a 
form as perfect as before the war, or more perfect, was the 
education of the people.'' 

But not only the South needs such assistance, the new 
States of the West need it, or at least may be greatly bene- 
fited by it. 12,000 emigrants from Europe have entered and 
settled in the single State of Minnesota the past season. 
The majority of these are entirely ignorant of our language. 
There are many more in this and other States who are in 
like manner ignorant of the language of the country. Now, 



164 KDUCATION IN 00NORE88. [December, 

although we conceive patriotism and the devotion to a govern" 
ment like our own to spring essentially from the heart, stilU 
in order to discharge properly the duties of citizenship, or 
even residence, such persons should have a knowledge of the 
language of the country, and obtain such knowledge of its 
institutions and civilization as can only be obtained by an 
extensive and thorough system of popular education. It 
will exert an influence upon the present generation ; it will 
do still more upon that which is to come* Our government 
will be many times repaid for any efforts in this direction 
by the increased stability and prosperity thus ensuing. 

But such a co-operative means as a National Depart- 
ment of Education, though it should principally and immedi- 
ately have to do vrith the South and newly settled States of 
the Westi will render valuable assistance to the older States of 
the Union where there already exists an extensive and sound 
system of popular education. That this is seen and felt fol- 
lows from the many expressions of a desire for such a bureau 
by those actively engaged in the work of education from 
Boston to Pittsburgh, many of which have found their way 
into Congress in the shape of petitions. Such a desire has 
been felt for many years by leading and thinking educational 
men, and has been indorsed by State and national associ- 
ations of teachers ; such an educational headquarters would 
bring together and assimulate the Boards and systems of the 
different States. The good in each would tend more than at 
present to be incorporated in the systems of all. 

Books, school-houses, educational periodicals and libraries, 
and the history of education in oar country, are subjects of 
great importance and interest; and any instrumentality calcu- 
lated to increase and diffuse information respecting them must 
be of direct and substantial assistance. Some of these con- 
siderations apply even more especially to the newer Scates. 
For instance, persons having the charge of education in 
those States have complained of the difficulty experienced by 
them in becoming acquainted with the latest and most ap- 
proved text-books for the common-school. Any means 
which would convey to them information of this nature, or be 
able to furnish it if applied for, would accomplish a great 
good in this single direction* It is not to be expected that 
such a department would extend its efforts greatly with re* 
gard to the older States ; its immediate sphere brings the in- 
troduction and diffusion of education in those sections which 
are now without it, and whose need and call for it is so press- 



1866.] BDUCATION IN C0N0RCB8. 165 

ing. But it is to be hoped that it will prove itself so effi- 
cient as to exert the influence and accomplish the work im- 
mediately, and then to contribute to the improvement of the 
educational work in the older States. 

By the nationalization of education is meant the recog- 
nition of the work of education by the general government, 
not with a view to enforce it upon any State or community* 
but to elevate and give character to the work by the sanc- 
tion and support of the government. The department in 
question, in order to accomplish its legitimate object and 
that which the friends of education expect of it, should be 
equipped and conducted with this in view. In France, 
Austria, Prussia, and Russia, the State makes provision for 
the common education of the people and gives the support 
of the State. Education and those engaged in it have, thore- 
• fore, a position in those countries higher than with us. It 
is invested with a character the influence and dignity of 
which are increased by being noticed and fostered by the 
government. The nationalization of educatioa that has been 
talked about is nothing more than a recognition by the gen- 
eral government of this influence, dignity, and character. 
The extremely industrious, working tendency of the people 
of the United States has acquired for us the criticism or being 
devoted to money-getting for its own sake. Industry has, 
without doubt, to a considerable extent degenerated to a state 
illustrated by the remark of the rich man who said he sowed 
and earned because he ** liked to see the pile grow." Now, if 
we bring education into more prominence by giving it that 
circulation and character which its recognition and support 
by the government give it in other countries, and should 
give it here, the money-getting propensity would be corrected 
in a wholesome manner where it has degenerated to an evil 
prgudicial to patriotism and the highest social and intel- 
lectual advancement of the people. 

With the exception of limited sections of the country, 
the people require to be impressed with a stronger re- 
alization of the worth and necessity of education. Time, 
it is true, must be the principal worker in accomplish- 
ing this; but the end can be greatly hastened, if we 
judge rightly, by the nationalization of education and 
the establishment of a department which, like a great 
tower of observation in the land, will observe what is 
being done in this field and what should be done, and which 
will communicate such observations to the people^ All 



166 SDQOAnoK ur cokoress. [December, 

higher education among us'depends upon the common educa- 
tion in the lowest departments. We have colleges among 
usy but no universities in the highest and proper sense of the 
word. In order to elevate our colleges to universities an 
essential preliminary step is to make elementary education 
sounder, more advanced, and more extensive. So, too, 
private education must be resorted to instead of the common 
school in those communities where the popular mind is uot 
fully enough impressed with the absolute necessity of a 
thorough and universal education to support such schools as 
will be sufficiently good for the highest and not too good for 
the lowest. 

Besides these consequences, which we might expect to 
be produced from giving to education a national character, 
there would be another — ^that of raising the position of the 
teacher among us to one entitled to and commanding greater 
^respect. In Germany the teacher constitutes one of the reo- 
•ognized professions, and a distinct course is provided in the 
university to prepare him for his work. Before such a train- 
ing and such a profession can really exist with us, there must 
be a more distinct and living impression upon the national 
mind of the utility and necessity of the work which such a 
profession is to do. At present it is becoming more and 
more frequent for those who really adorn and are useful in 
tthe work of teaching to leave it tor something else, both 
^because of the limited attractions of this work and of the 
greater ones in some of the industrial occupations. It is 
true that the teacher must himself adorn and make respects 
able his occupation ; but he cannot be expected to do that 
^without the support and encouragement of the world about 
him, for all are subject to human passions and few are mar- 
iyrs or missionaries. 

It may be a long time before the proposed depart- 
jnent and nationalization of education will accomplish the* 
work expected of it; and it will doubtless operate in 
41 very limited and imperfect manner at the outset. 
Yet it is a matter for congratulation that it has received 
so much favor as it has from the representatives of the 
people ; and we mistake if it does not receive still greater 
favor from them and the people themselves, as it certainly 
should. If such an effort to exalt and extend education 
should fail of sympathy and support from the people there 
would be reason fur a feeling of discouragement in the pros- 
pect of the future growth and success of our iu^tituiioiis, 
education, their foundation stone, being so lightly regarded. 



1866.] EDUCATION IN CONGRESS, 161 

It is proper that some of the objeotions urged in Congress 
and elsewhere to this department should be considered ; but 
we can do so but briefly. In the first place^ it is stated thafe 
'* it was the educated men of the South who originated and 
supported the rebellion.'^ The inference intended to be 
adduced is that education caused the rebellion* Yet such 
an inference is not generally mentioned by one who makes 
the above statement for such a purpose, because its truth 
could not be supported. The rebellion was originated and 
became what it did in spite of, not on account o/\ education. 
Still there are some who deny the utility of education in 
the schools. To their minds the education of nature, so to 
speak, or that wliich one obtains in his necessary contact 
with the world, is sufficient of itself and better than any 
other. To say nothing of any philosophical view of this 
opinion, the experience and testimony of the past are such 
that one can but infer that the future will be a still more 
convincing refutation of it. Self-made men are pointed to 
and the inference drawn that one may attain to the highest 
position of power and influence without any education in 
the schools, comparatively speaking. Dj they not rather 
attain their respective positions of eminence in spite of, not 
in consequence of, their want of educational advantages 1 
Woul 1 Webster have been any the less great if he had not 
gone through Dartmouth College? Or would Lincoln have 
failed to achieve his crown of glory had he received any but 
the most limited educational opportunities at school ? He 
himsjif has admitted and regretted his loss. Education is 
not the cause of rebellions, nor ignorance of self-made men. 
The apprehension was als i expressed that such a depart- 
ment wuuld form a precedent for other departments, as of 
religion, temperance, &c. With respect to these it may be 
said in general that while there is almost entire unanimity 
in regard to the utility of education, thtTe is an endless dif- 
ference of opinion in regard to the other objects. This 
alone f irbids the consideration of any such objection at 
present. Again, it should be understood that the Dispart- 
ment <»f Education is sought for, not simply because it will 
conduce to the interests of education, but because a sound 
couunon-school system extending over all sections of the 
country is essential ti the social and political prosperity of 
the republic. Civiltz^ition is the foundation and support of 
re[Hiblicun institutions, and this is the result ot the common 
school. However much other moral and religious questions 



168 XDUCATioN IK C0KGRE8S. [December, 

may be involved, tbe intelligence springing from edacatioa 
is the one essential. For both of these reasons, then» there is 
little if any force in the objection under consideration. Bat 
supposing that the formation of the proposed department 
does establish a precedent, no harm will result unless tbe de 
partment in question fails to accomplish the results expected, 
or education is not a matter of so vital moment to the re* 
public as is claimed. 

• It is said that it is ** not time*' for such a department in 
OUT government. Might it not be said with equal if not 
more force« that it is too late for it ? If such an agency is 
capable of accomplishing the work proposed, it certainly can* 
not begin too soon. Had such an instrumentality existed and 
been able, not by the force of law, but by that of public opinion 
and enlightened conviction, to carry the influence of educa- 
tion over all the South, where it had previously existed only 
' partially, there can be good reason to believe that there 
would have been such counteracting influences in that sec- 
tion, together with tendencies calculated to assimilate and 
unite the people there with those in other sections of the 
country, that we would have been spared a civil war. But 
looking to the future it would seem that this is the time 
when such an agency is wanted. 

The freedmen need it with all the civilizing and elevat- 
ing influences it can afford. That class of the whites 
at the South who have been and still are uneducated 
need it. The enormous population at the West from 
foreign countries — a large majority of which we believe 
we are safe in saying are ignorant of any practical 
knowledge of our language — need it. The Germans and 
Norwegians, it is not to be doubted, come among us realizing 
the change from their previous conditions of civil and social 
constraint, and exhibiting themselves as patriotic and indus» 
trious citizens. But is it not to be feared that the corrupting 
influences of gain will grow among them faster than the sub- 
stantial interest in the civilization and prosperity of the 
country, unless education exercises its proper influences 
among them, which it is not likely to do unless laid before 
them ? Also, the contemplation of the subject for some years 
past and the requests from the people at the present time, 
show the conviction that in the older parts of the country 
where systems of education are established a great influence 
for good can be exerted if the government would take the 
work of education under its patronage and support. More 



18«6J FICTION. 189 

elevated and working views upon the subject, it is expected, 
would be impressed upon the people. Cnaracter would be 
given to the work of education in this country, and a higher 
position and greater encouragement to those engaged in it. 
For accomplishing all of this, and more, it seems certainly to 
be time. 

If it is not time, we would ask when is it to be 
expected that the proper time will come? We are certainly 
not mistaken in regard to the great importance of education 
in this country, and of the desirability of its more extensive 
and systematic operations than at present. We may be mis- 
taken in our hopefulness for the success of the department 
in question. Political influences may so impede its efficiency 
|hat it will fail of its object. It may not succeed in pruduc- 
ing that impress upon the people which it is hoped it will ; 
but it promises good, and no harm. The object to be at- 
tained i<i a desirable if not a necessary ope, and no other 
means suggests itself. What little consideration on the sub- 
ject and work of education it has given rise to in the House 
uf Representatives has been in its favor ; no less can be 
hoped for in the Senate. A sound and effectual instrument- 
alicy looKing to so high an interest as the common schools 
of a republic of such dimensions as this is surpassed in in- 
terest tv> him who lives for his country by little if anything 
besides. 



NOTICES AND CRITIOISMS. 

nOTIOK. 

The Banetuary: A Story of the Oivil War, By Gxobgb Wabd Niohols, 
author of ''The Storj of the Great March." With Illastrations. 
12mo, pp. 286. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1806. 

Sunnybank, Bv Marion Habland, anther of '* Alone/' ** Hidden Patli," 
&c. 12mo, pp. 416. New York : Sheldon & Oo., 1866. 
We place these two books side bj side because they are yerj much 
alike, and may be regarded as representative of a numerous brood. It 
may be urged that, if they are fair specimens of their kind, we might have 
spared ourselves the trouble of placing them anywhere, since it is not 
likely that our readers will occupy themselves in exploring regions 
where nothing is to be met with .but thistles and thorns, gall and worm- 
wood. A bird's nest may be found, it is true, here and there, and a certain 
amount of '^billing and cooing," but neither is natural ; both are too suggest- 
ive of machinery, and the amount of art displayed in them approximates 



no FicTioK, [December, 

rather doselj to that displayed bj the farmer ia these piotares designed 
to frighten away the crows from his wheat or oats. 

We do not mean that either of the authors before ns designs to soare 
our swaiu.« and nymphs from making love to each other ; on the contrary, 
we cheerfully do them the Justice to admit that they yie with each other 
in seeking to produce the opposite effect. The difficulty is that they 
have not the knack of doing it. In tlii^ reitpect they are like the 
honest but unskilful artist who, having failed to product a faithful like- 
ness of one of his patrons, touched the picture again and again, but made 
it look more hideous and more unlike the original by every new applica- 
tion of rhe brush. It would be cruel to blame the poor artist who tried 
so hard to please; we think it would be equally cruel to blame our authors 
in the present case, and, therefore, we will not do it. 

But if authors are not to blame for failing to portray the softer 
and gentler affections of our nature, we think they are not entiled to 
similar immunity when they attempt to awaken or revive the op[K>site 
feelings. If they cannot excite love they ought at least to refrain from 
exciting strife; but, in oar opinion, the tendency of the two volumes 
before ns is to the latter result. Most people admit that it is not generous 
in any case to w(»nnd a fallen foe ; it is also admitted that there are mental 
wounds which hurt us as much as physical wounds; accordmgly, even 
when two foreign nations have been at war with each other it is not 
deemed proper for. the writers of the successful side to taunt the opposite 
for its defeat after peace has been restored. Thus, for example, no two 
nations in the world have been longer at war with each other than the 
English and French, but if the literature of both countries be examined 
historiciilly it will be fonnd that all attacks of this kind worthy of the 
least notice have been made in war times. 

If people Who thus differ with each other in race, in language, in both 
religions and political faith, deem it proper to treat each other cour- 
teously, at least to avoid giving each other needless offence, how can we 
regard it as otherwise than improper to pursue the opiHwite course 
towards those who were, and are now, our fellow citizens ; wJio belong to 
the hame composite race to which we belong ourselves, who speak the 
same language, wh«), in a word, are our own desh and blood ? There is 
no morality in this— no philosophy ; it is in flagrant violation of both. 
Indeed, tlie simple ingredient of common sense is sufficient to sliow how 
absurd it is for twenty millions of people having the advantage of an 
estubll^hed government to publish tedious, dull books by way of exult- 
ing for having defeated about eight millions that had no government 
which WHS r(*cognized as such by any civilized nation. 

We do not charge either author or authoress with having written for 
the pur[H)8e of perpetuating those feelings which war is too apt to 
foster by itself; on the contrary, we unhesitatingly acquit both of any 



1866.] FiCTioH. m 

BQch iDteDtioD. But the tendencj of their perfonnanees is not the less 
injarioQs on this account ; and it is chis tendency which we would avert 
aa much as poesible. Those who mean best maj be diverted from their 
good intentions by taunts and sneers. This fact has been but too well 
illustrated in the South already since the close of the war. Mtiny districts 
which almost all agreed in regarding as loyal — at least disposed to render 
legitimate obedience to the national government— are now represented 
with equal unanimity as more disloyal than ever. 

No thoughtful person who reads books like these in connection with 
other publications which recommend them and promulgate the same 
aenthnents, can wonder at this. We make no pretensions to superior wis- 
dom ; still less do we claim to possess the prophetic gifi ; at the same time 
we can remind our readers that in more than one of our articles pub- 
lished on the conclusion of the rebellion we endeavored to show how 
necessary and important it was to avoid all needless comments of an 
offensive or irritating character. 

But it is DOW time the reader should be able to form some definite 
idea of the character of the two books under consideration. The 
author of " The Sanctuary^' is, we see, also the author of ^* The Story of 
the Great March. ^' No doubt this is a great performance; but we never 
heard of it before. Our readers have perhaps been more fortunate in 
this respect ; at all events, we can only speak of the present work. 

Let us admit, before we proceed any farther, that this posses^ses some 
novel features. Thus, for example, the common opinion has been in the 
North, as well as in the South, that the Southern youth of both sexes 
were in general in favor of the rebellion; we remember to have otlen 
heard it remarked that men who held lucrative offices under the Federal 
government, including officers in the army and navy, resigned their posi- 
tions in order to take part in the rebellion. But it seems from " The 
Sanctuary*' that it was the Southern young men, and old men, too, who 
hastened to the North at once, eo that they might defend ratlier than 
attack the old government. Mr. Nichols would doubtless tell us that we 
cannot regard his hero and a few other characters as representing the whole 
South, and we would readily agree with him tlius far. But what U the ob- 
ject of fiction ? Is it not to represent nature? to represent what is sub- 
stantially, if not literally, true ? Well, is it true in any sense that the 
Southerners ran to the North in this way ? If a few persons did so here and 
there that is not sufficient to justify the course of our author. If only a 
small minority of Spaniards had been affected by the mania of knight- 
errantry, Cervantes would have proved a bad artist and a bad teacher by 
his ^ Don Quixotte;" but the inhabitnnts of ull countries langh at his jokes 
to this day, because they are founded in truth and nature. A similar 
remark will apply to the novels of Scott, Smollett, Gold^smith, &o. If 
Shakespeare himself, instead of portraying what is true of general 



173 Ficnow. [December, 

nature, onlj presented us a few odd exceptions — veritable rarcs ae«i — 
who could accept his portraitares as true ? 

A novel especially should portraj the manners and feelings of at least 
the class of people from which its principal characters are taken ; bat can it 
be said that any class of Soatherners ran to the North in this way as soon 
as the rebellion broke ont? Were not even the negroes rather slow in 
doing so? We should think the contrary, however, if we had no better 
authority than Mr. Nichols. In order to show that we do him no injus- 
tice in this we shall have to make room for an extract or two from his 
"Sanctuary." It is only necessary for the reader to bear in mind, in 
advance, that David Dal ton, his hero, is *'the son of a prosperous mer- 
chant in the city of Savannab.^^ This young gentleman " gave prophgtie 
tignala of a posnbU heroism^^^ &o., and his ^^soft dark blue eyes seemed 
rather to reflect the flowery savannas of his native South than to give 
token of the stern Saxon strength that really lurked in their hidden 
d^ths^^' &o. (p. 20). The beloved of this hopeful youth was no other 
than the charming Miss Agnes Saumer, " with hazel eyes, solemn, reflect- 
ive, and as subtle and serene as the sea," toward whom his heart *^had 
been drifting Jor yean^ (p. 21.) 

After a vast amount of loyal anxiety David Dalton succeeds in con- 
veying his family northward. His sister Nellie writes to him the glad 
tidings that papa and mamma and herself had reached as far north as 
Louisville; at this we are told his '* heart was relieved," especially when 
he read the postscript in which his father speaks so tenderly of ^* the dear 
old Union." As soon as he reco<rers from the trepidation caused by read- 
ing BO agreeable an epistle he hastens to see Agnes Saumer. The account 
we have of the interview between the two lovers is very characteristic ; 
we extract a passage : 

'* * Oh, here is Mr. Didton ! ' was the cry which greeted him as he entered 
the drawing-room of Agnes Saumur's home. 

** *We were diBCUBsing/ said Agnes, *what shall be the true flag of the 
Southern Republic. Tour artistic taste is unquestionable. Tou shall give \u 
your opinion.' 

** * What is this new flag supposed to represent f ' he asked, scaxoely ventur- 
ing at that moment' to meet her geae, 

'* 'Why. liberty, of course— the liberty of the South from Lincoln Rn<! 
Yankee abolitionistB/ said M^or Ghilson, who was dressed in uniform. He 
was captain of a company of the Oglethorpe OuanL At the same time he 
gaaed earnestly, and with a shadow of suspicion crossing his dark fisoe, into the 
burning eyes of David Dalton, who stood there vainly striving to control the 
indignant words which rushed to his lips. 

** ' I always thought the stars and stripes were an emblem of liberty. What 
need have we of another flag ? ' 

** ' We mean to have nothing about us that savors of the old accnnied 
Union,' s&id Ghilson, advancing toward Dalton. 'If I had my way, I would 
build a wall as high as heaven to separate us from every thing associated with 
Yankees or the Union. By the way, we have been looking after yon, Dalton, 
this fortnight post. You have had a military education, and will be of service 
in the war— that is,' be added, sneeringly, ' if the Yankees will stand before 
us long enough to be beaten.' 



1866.] ncnoir. 178 

** * Yes, Mr. Dalton, you must leave the artlllenr company and join the 
Oglethorpe Qoard,' said Agnes, with enthusiasm. He turned and looked into 
her bright expectant countenance, his anger changing to an expression of 



*' ' Agnes,' he said at length, ' I can not answer you at this moment.' 

** * Perhaps Dalton has heard that the Oglethorpe Guard has been ordered to 
Join Beauregard's army in Virginia,' insinuated Ghilson, in an insolent tone. 

*' Dalton faced him in an instant. * You know, Ghilson, that I am no duel- 
ist, or yon would scarcely hare dared to be so impertinent.' 

" * We will soon meet where you can defend yourself,' replied Ghilson, 
black with passion. 

** * Perhaps sooner, though not in the place that you imagine,' was the 
calm reply. 

** Ghilson made no answer, but it was easy to read the revengeful expression 
of his face, which made Agnes involuntarily shrink from him as he bade her 
good-night. 

'* Alone with Agnes, Dalton eloquently proclaimed his fealty to the national 
cause, his hatred of secession, and his intention to depart for the North. * I 
shall join the Union Army, and, if need be, give my life in defense of the 
nation.' 

*' * Oh, Mr. Dalton, how can you thus desert the South in her extremity. Yon 
are a liorn Southerner. Would you strike at the land of your birth f This is 
shameful in you/ said Agnes, withdrawing the hand which he had taken. 

*' Dilton's face was pale from emotion, but his resolve did not waver, and 
his voice was firm as he answered her. 

" * Agnes, this trial is to me a terrible one. I love you above all things — 
except my country's honor, and that is my honor. Oh, Agnes, you wt>uld 
not have me sacrifice that i ' 

'** * I do not know what to say,' said Agnes, almost convulsed with her con- 
flicting passions. * I would not have believed that any thing upon earth could 
have separated us. I thought I could follow you any where. But I never 
dreamed that you could prove recreant to the South.' "—pp. 24-27. 

This is followed by a long speech on the part of Dalton. Among 
other loyal, wise, and gallant things he tells her that she has no family* 
ties. '' Yoar ancle is hateful to yon/' he says. *^ I can this very night, 
bjr oar marriage, give yoa the protection of my name.** (p. 28.) She 
was not nnion-loving enoogh yet, and, therefore, did not consent, but 
hinted that his ooarage was of rather a doubtful stamp, which, as might 
be expected, '* stung his loyal, gentle heart.'* (p. 28.) His brother Harold 
is still more loyal than himself, if possible, and pats him on his guard aa 
follows : '* Yon'll have to ran for it, Dare.'* '' I understand it all," said 
Dalton (that is our hero) ; ^' its Ghilson t But yoa, what do yoa propose 
to do ? " ''I will remain. It will throw these devUe off the ^rack. Get to 
the North as fast as yoa can. I will follow." (p. 29.) How much like 
the language in which yoang Georgians ased to address eacli other in 
May. 1861 1 

But this is not the only way in which oar author would have us be- 
lieve that two or three swallows that had wandered from the reat of the 
brood prove that it is summer instead ot spring or winter. According to 
him, all rebels, with rare exceptions, speak a sort of dialect which is 
scarcely intelligible, so fearfully benighted is their condition. It is other- 
wise, however, with the negroes. The latter are not only scmpnloasly 
grarau atical in their langnage, at least aa grammatical aa oar novelist can 



1T4 FICTION. [December, 

make them, tliejr Are qaite philosophical ; and as to their courage, it is of 
the exemplary kind. Id expressing some little wonder at the eouleur-de- 
rate picture thus given of the negro, as if he belonged to a tribe recentlj 
discovered, and of whose characteristics, eitlJer mental or physical, no- 
body had ever heard before, we have been reminded that probably our 
author himself possesses in his veins at least a portion of that noble blood 
which he so much admires. But let us illastrate oar remarks. Horton, 
a Federal officer, makes a desperate attempt to secure or kill a Confeder- 
ate spy, but nearly gets killed himself for his pains. Baxter, his orderly, 
runs to his assistance ; but the spy hurled Baxter against the wall and 
dashed from the room. There was no danger that the spy would escape, 
however. What two white and loyal Anglo-Saxons were unable to ac- 
complish was a mere trifle to a negro who happened to be near at the 
critical moment. But let our novelist tell the rest of the story in his 
own words : 

*' But he now met with an unexpected opponent. Filling up the outer 
door-way stood the negro, whom he tried in vain to turn aside. There followed 
a brief, terrible struggle, and the tpy** kneet ttruck under, and he ftU, 

*' * You have killed him I ' cried Horton, as he ran forward and knelt by 
the side of the prostrate body, and felt the inanimate pulse of the hand, which 
still, in its rigid grip, held a glittering knife. 

'* * It was my life or his, sir. I know the man,' replied the negro, as he 
thrust his bowie-knife into his belt. * It's Nelson, one of the most desperate 
scouts in the Confederate service.' 

* ' ' Do you belong to this place ? * 

** * No, sir ; I came here with this man.' '*~p. 60. 

Thus, while the loyal whites looked on somewhat like frightened 
children, the loyal negro did his work in a style which would have done 
no discredit to Ai&x, or even the godlike Hector himself. But we have 
yet seen the n^ro only as a warrior. A page or two further on Horton 
has a conversation with his deliverer ; and the following is a portion of 
the dialogue which takes place between them : 

*• • Why did you betray your master this morning ? * 

** A slight flush mounted to the man's forehead at this abrupt interrogatloa, 
bat he looked firmly into the eyes of his questioner. 

" ' He was not my master. I gave him up because he had information of 
value to these rebels.' 

" 'What is your name ?• 

" » Zimri, sir.' 

" * That is an odd name. Zimri, you have a last name ? ' 

** *I am a slave, dr. I need not tell you, therefore, thai i have never 
known any name but Z<mri.' 

** ' How came you with that spy ? ' 

** ' I was sent by my master— my half-brother, General Ralph Buford, com- 
manding a brigade of Wheeler's cavalry.' 

** * Does your brother trust you so implicitly as to permit you to come into 
our lines ? ' 

** * Sometimes I think he wishes I would never come back.' 

** ' Why ? ' asked Horton, somewhat mystified. 

<* * My mother,' replied Zimri, ' was a quadroon, and the slave of our father. 
We were nursed firom the same bosom, and grew to manhood on the same plan- 
talloii-^I the slave, and he my brother and master. A few yean ago, my 



1866.] FICTION. 116 

brother married the daughter of one of the wealthy planters of South Carolina. 
When Bhe came to our home she brought with her a quadrck)n girl, who was 
reallj her mistren's companion, though nominally a blave. Charlotte and I 
loved each other, and were married beifore the war/ " — pp. 53, 64. 

This is but a small portion of the fine accoQn^ the negro gives of him- 
self; it is snfficient, however, to show what a superior mind hu has. In 
order to appreciate this soperiority, however, to its full extent, it is 
necessary to compare his style of conversation with that of tlie rebel 
Southerner. We need only quote a remark or two from each, allowing 
oar author to introduce them in his own way : 

** The sun had risen above the mountain- tops behind him ere Zlmrl came 
upon the pickets guarding the rear of Hood's army. 

** ' Oh, it's only that cnned white nigger of the general's,' remarked a sen- 
tinel to a companion. 

*• * You've come to the right place, nig. Yer master's in that ar cabin yon- 
der across the creek.' 

'* ' Yes, I see the houw . Have there been any Yankees round here T ' 

** * Nary a Yank. The blue-bellies keep clar of the Rattlesnake Brigade. 
CusB 'em, they don't like the smell of powder— hey, Smitherdf " — ^p. 62. 

From this we are to learn, as a matter of course, that the '* poor 
white *' of the South is much more ignorant and more degraded than the 
negro ; nay, should we not infer from it that instead of being either igno- 
rant or degraded, the latter is intelligent and high-spirited ? Now, suppos- 
ing we admit that this is all true, does it not stultify our author in another 
way ? Since he is as anxious to show how cruelly the slaves have 
been treated in the South as he is to prove what a high-minded race the 
negroes are? If Zimri was so badly treated, how did he become so refined ^ 
and intelligent ? And our author gives him a fine wife also ; a much 
more beautiful woman than the white heroine of the story. This, we 
know, seems difficult to believe; but we will let oar author describe the 
slaveys wife in his own words, and show also that she is as refined as she 
il beautiful : 

*' Charlotte was little changed from the beautiful daughter of the sun whom 
we saw among the mountains of Alabama a few months ago. Exposure to the 
open air had tinged her cheek with a richer color, but the same dark tresses 
waved gracefully away from her fair forehead. Her eyes had not lost their 
liquid purity ; her form bad the same charming languor in repose as of old, and 
the same b«iutiful grace in motion. 

** ' After to-morrow, Charlotte, we shall get away from this fettered life. 
Within the Union lines we shall find freedom and friends, and such a home as 
the slave never knows here. I have a debt of gratitude to pay Mrs. Buford, 
who is at Winnsboro', and may need assistance. We will go there, and 
then take the first chance of escape.' 

* * * Let us not wait till to-morrow, ' pleaded his wife, as she drew closer to him. 
' Oh, Zimri, every moment we stay here is dangerous. Blaster Balph may return 
any moment, and then — ' Her golden eyes were veiled by their long lashes, 
and she hesitated- 

'* * I know what you would say, my darling : '* General Balph will not let 
us remain together." But he shall not separate us again — he dare not! I 
would be glad never to meet him, but he can't protect Mrs. Buford after the 
Confederate army has passed her, and I can. We must not forget, Charlotte, 
that there are years of kind words and deeds which we both owe to her. Has 



It6 FICTION. [December, 

the not tanght you to road and to write, addf aic knowledge to the graces of mj 
beautiful Charlotte f ' and Zimri kiaaed her with foadnees. 

** * Dear Zimri, I am not uograteful— indeed I am nut— but I am afraid. I 
don't dare thiok of going there/ "—pp. 179, 180. 

|Iow obarmiag is all this I In addition to tlitt letter-presH description 
we have also an engrayiag representing the happy pair fumdlj embraotng 
each other. We cannot, indeed, compliment the artist on this perform- 
ance; it is too mnoh in the style of the ^^cnts^- of the *'Joarnalof 
Civilization *' ; and yet we admit that it is qnite good and truthful enough 
for the book which it is designed to illustrate. 

It is not strange that the far-seeing iauthor who has discovered that 
the young men of the South ran to the North as soon as the lebellion 
broke out ; that although a rebel spy may throw aside two loyal whites 
as if they were children, a negro can make him *^ strike under '* at once; 
and that a negro slave is far less ignorant and less degraded than a rebel 
white — ^it is no more than might be expected that this discoverer of so 
many remarkable things has also discovered that the Irish are cowards ; 
that when the critical moment comes they are either drunk in reality, or 
feign drunkenness in order to avoid the danger. This is Just as true and 
sensible as the various other " revelations '' made in ** The Sanctnary *' ; 
'it would be useless, therefore, to make any attempt to disprove it. In 
former wars the Irish may have done very well, but in our late war they 
were but a disgrace to our brave and invincible troops, especially to the 
negro portion of them. In proof of this we quote another passage from 
the precious volume before us. A Federal officer sees an Irishman run 
away: 

** ' Where are you going, Kelly ? ' he asked. ' You are wanted here. Don't 
yeu see the rebels coming agaiivf ' 

'* * Yis, I sav the murthering blackguards,' answered the frightened Irish- 
man, ducking his head to a twelve-pound round-shot. * Shure an' don't I both 
say and hear f but— oh, Holy Mother, protect me f—yon wouldn't have me 
leave a wounded comrade to die upon the fiftlld of battle, would you f ' 

*' * Kelly, you are a disgnc<) to the regiment, Tou are not seriously 
wounded ? ' turning to the comrade whom Kelly had taken in charge. 

*< * No, sir,' was the reply. ' I did not see Kelly until I had reached the 
timber. It's all humbug about his helping me, colonel.' 

* * ' I thought so. As you pass head-quarters, give him over to the guard.' ' * 
—pp. 74, 76. 

The cowardice and drunkenness of the Irish made, of course, no ap- 
preciable difference; the victory was gained by our native loyalists, 
white and black, just as well as if the Irish were not the poltroons they 
proved themselves. But not content with refusing to ^ghlS, the Irish 
made such noise after the battle that the officers who gained it were much 
annoyed ; we quote one extract more : 

*' He had several times checked the boisterous noise of the drunken Irish- 
men. By-and-by their talk was carried on in a lower tone— 

'' * I say,' whispered Kelly, * O'Brien, are you aslape at such a time ? ' Don't 
you hear the roar of the inemy's cannon ? ' 



1866.] Ficnoir. ITT 

'* * Oh, bother the Inemy s cannon. Don't I know that Tm in the giiard- 
honae for getthing thnxnk ? ' 

•* * An' yon're right there, my hoy. It all cornea o' them officers. An* rare, 
ar'n't they atnck up all the while-Hi pnttin' on aim aa U they owned the 
whorld?'"— p.76. 

We have now notioed all the peculiar features of ^ The Sanctuary " ; 
but not one of them is natural. The whole aflfair, from title-page to con- 
clusion, is spurious; if it have any effect it will 4>e that of the firebrand. 
If any one can profit by such a book, we cannot see how. Time there 
was — not seven years ago— when the Messrs.^arper would not have set 
their imprint on so stupid and absurd a performance. Let us hope, for 
their own credit's sake as well as for the public good, that if they have 
lost their former taste and discrimination by permitting themselves to 
become too much absorbed In the " Journal of Civilization " they will 
89on recover both and revive their ancient reputation as caterers, for we 
are aorry to say that that which they bear now, on account of pnblioa- 
tiona of the above class), is sadly in need of repair. 

Although we recognize'no sex in a book, yet we are. unwilling to speak 
of Sunnybank as its character seems to us to deserve. It is indeed neither 
so unwise nor so dall a performance as '' The Sanctuary.*' This, we are 
aware, is a slender commendation ; but however ungracious or ungallant it 
may be to say so, we can bestow no higher praise on the lady's book. If 
her ^^ Alone" to which she refers in her preface had so many readers as 
she says, we fear they were persons whose taste was not very fastidious ; 
otherwise she exhausted her stock of ideas in that effort so that she had 
but few left for ^^ Sunnybank ;'' and these few are almost exclusively polit- 
ical. As for the fragments of love she gives us, they are sorry affairs; 
we doubt whether anybody will love his male or female neighbor anything 
the better on their account;; and if we deduct the politics, war, and love 
from ^* Sunnybank," what we shall have left is little scraps of selected 
poetry which are not very select, texts of Scripture and pious ejacnla. 
tions, trite adages, &c. TVe really dislike very much to give this char- 
acter of a lady's book; we would much rather speak of the delight we 
experienced in reading it; but we cannot permit ourselves to deceive 
those who honor us with their confidence, both in ourjudgment and integ- 
rity, by representing aa gold a very different metal. 

Our authoress tells us,in her preface, that she is a Virginian, and that 
her ** attachment to her native State is second only to that she feels for 
her country," &o. She concludes her address ^*to the reader" by bor- 
rowing, as she informs us, ** the grand immortal toordi of another*'* — that 
is, of our late, lamented President, who had himself but borrowed the 
words: "With charity for all ; with malice toward none " ; for the same 
had been uttered more than two thousand years before he was born. 

"Sunnybank" has the form of a novel so far as to have two 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVII. 12 



I*r8 nenoy. [December, 

heroines, Elinor and Agatha, or Agatha and Elinor, as the reader maj 
prefer. One heads one chapter, the other the next, and so on to the end. 
We have said that the two hooks at the head of this notioe are very 
much alike; to proye that this is the fact we now giye a specimen or 
two of the ladjr's performance. Let ns imagine oarselyet at Richmond 
on the 16th of April, 1861, and fancy we hear a tender-hearted damsel 
address her swain as fbllews : ^ 

** I had promised to walk with Hany, and, equipped for the excmaion, was 
entering the parlor, where he awaited me, when the breathlen oalm, that had 
brooded over the city for twenty-four hours past, was broken by the sullen 
roar of a cannon. Another and another followed . 

'* ' Seven 1 ' I exclaimed, sick and shuddering. 

" The signal was unexpected, but I interpreted the dread ajgnmnamnft of tho 
number of the revolted States. 

*' l^rry caught my hands, and led me to the so&. 

" * It must be true, dearest ! The fort has fallen ! ' 

" Then he dropped bis head upon the arm of the sofa, and was mute. Ihidi 
btfcre him, projfwff kimiobe eamfoHed; but my own spirit was bowed to (hi iowett 
dud. While I spoke words of hope and resignation to him, my rebellious heart 
was crying out, * Hath the Lord forgotten to be gracious f ' 

** * Poor, trembling dariing 1 ' Harry said, presently lifting a countenance 
pale, indeed, but dmtfad and even mUmg, as he addressed me. ' I ought to be 
ashamed of myself for failing you at this moment ! We will be coungeous 
now, love I Wil) you wait for me here, while I go out to learn the worst f ' 

** ' I will go with you 1 ' I answered ; and in two minutes more we were in 
the open air.— pp. 82, 88. 

What an interesting scene I Snrely the publishers onght to have illus- 
trated this. Harry makes a sorry fignre even when so far recovered that 
he is ** stead&st and even smiling." He kept very quiet, however, it 
seems; he '^spoke but once,^' says our anthoress, *' in our hnrried passage 
along the route to the oapitol square " ; of .course it was something very 
important he uttered then. It was no man he addressed, however ; we 
are told that a '* young and happy wife and mother '' held ^* a laughing 
boy of ten months aloft in her arms," who in turn .grasped a rebel flag 
and cockade ; the next thing heard is the following: 

** * Hurrah, my litUe man I Sumter is down, and the Yankee nation will 
soon follow I ' she cried, in the shrill accents of intense ioy, as we passed. 

** * And you may bemoan this day in tears of blood I ' uttered Harry, low 
and huskily.— p. 88. 

This, however, was not the worst. Harry gets weak again. This time, 
alasl he very nearly faints. But let our anthoress describe the melancholy 
scene in her own way : 

** A cheer Arom the crowed called my attention to the Capitol— and I saw, 
with horror and indignation I cannot describe—the rebel flag floating fzoni 
the roof! 

*' Harry came up to me instantly. He was whiter than when he had left me, 
and the rigidity of his features was like that of the brooae visBges above ns. 

*" I cannot breathe here ! * he said, 'take my arm, and let us getout of the 
crowd I '—p. 86. 

After much effort they finally succeed in getting into a qniet comer. 
Then Harry has recourse to Scripture for consolation. " Fair weather 



18MJ] BBLLRS^LETTBES. 1T9 

oometh out of the North I ^ ^ With the Lord is terrible mi^ty I '' re- 
peated Harry eUariy, trwmphanUy, ^' After all, darling, Hx reigns 1" 

What will the yonng Yirginians say to this ? Will they infer from it 
that the *' attachment " of the authoress to her ^* native State " is so very 
warm as she says in her preface ? Oan any one who reflects for a moment 
draw anch an inference from it? No doabt the lady wishes to please her 
Northern readers, who can now afford to bay books mnoh better than 
Sonthemers. But we oan assnre her that there are but few, if any, 
thoughtful, sensible men at the North more than the South who have much 
taste for philosophy like hers, because it is the philosophy of strife — 
that which would never allow the demon of discord to sleep. And 
whether this is inculcated by a Virginian or a New Englander, a man 
or a woman, it is equally reprehensible. 

The sort of love we find in *^ Sunny bank'' is as queer as its patriot- 
ism. We were not aware that Southern young ladies were in the 
habit of visiting the yonng gentlemen in their private rooms, at night and 
representing themselves at the door below as their sisters ; still less did 
we suppose that the young gentlemen would use harsh and offensive 
language to them for their pains, driving them out of their rooms as if 
they were, savages, who, having been so situated that they had hitherto 
seen no women, regarded the sex as demons whom it would not be safe to 
associate with. But this would be the clear inference from the scene 
between Wilton and Agatha in chapter vii, beginning at page 08. In- 
deed the whole affair is utterly absurd ; and still more preposterous, if 
possible, is the scene which takes place between Agatha and Elinor after 
the former returns stealthily to her room, which, it seems, is also the room 
of her rival. A good deal of mawkish stuff passes between the twun • 
then, next day there is a letter from the gallant young gentleman, who 
was so terribly offended at being visited in his room by a beautiful young 
lady who loved him. The first sentence of the epistle runs thus: ^'Dear 
Agatha: If I was harsh in my dealings with you at our last meeting, for- 
give me.'* But enough ; it would be worse than useless to proceed. Yet 
books like this are praised as ^* works of genius.'* It would be much 
better to encourage ladies to knit stockings for their husbands, fathers, or 
brothers, or to make pumpkin pies or apple-dumplings, than to occupy 
their time with performances like *^Sunnjbank." 

BELLE&iLJCTTRES. 

The Poenu of Thomas Kibblx Hekyxt. Edited by Mrs. T. K. Hbbvkt. 
With a Memoir. 24mo, pp. 487. Boston : Ticknor & Fields, 1866. 

Ws recognize several of the pieces in this volume as old and agreeable 
acquaintances, formed in distant lands. Many admired them when first 
published in magazines and copied into literary papers without knowing 



180 BKLLichLirTRKs. [December, 

anything of their aathorship ; for Mr. Henrej wrote maeh more for the 
love of poetry than for the love of fame. For this reaaon he was scarcely 
known as a poet, except by his immediate friends, uitil after his death, 
which took place in 1859. Bat althooch he had little poetical fame, hia 
merits were known to a few who were capable of appreciating them, at 
least in one point of view, for he was editor, in turn, of several periodicals 
indoding the London ^^Athenieam," which he conducted with ability 
and credit for eight years, withdrawing from it finally only because the 
enfeebled state of his health rendered him incapable of discharging his 
editorial duties any longer. 

Among the other periodicals whose readers hare an agreeable recol- 
lection of Herrey is the '* Art Journal,'* to which he was a regular con- 
tributor for four years, showing that his taste for art was as cultivated 
as his taste for poetry. Several of his earlier papers on art were i^ttrib- 
uted to Buskin, but his more finished and elaborate essays were regarded 
by many competent Judges as superior to the best efforts of that author. 
Whether this opinion be confirmed or not, there can be no question among 
those acquainted with his writings that he had a fine appreciation of the 
beautiful in nature and art ; and this by itself would afford at least pre- 
sumptive evidence of a poetical genius. 

But we are not obliged to depend on inferences in forming an estimate 
of the muse of Hervey. His wife has collected all his effusions with 
affectionate care, and presented them tons in this volume with a brief but 
comprehensive memoir, which, unlike the generality of such performances, 
contains no exaggerated praise. It is, indeed, a very suitable introduction 
to the works of one who was as much distinguished for his reciring mod- 
esty as for his good taste. But no memoir, no selections, no amount 
even of popularity can give the reader so correct an idea of anything 
claimed to be poetry as a sample of itself. Nor need the admirers of 
Hervey fear to subject him to this test. The piece entitled '^ Australia ^ 
alone, although written chiefly at college, and, we believe, the first he ever 
published, contains passages which compare favorably with any found in 
the earlier efforts of the most popular of the recent British poets. It is 
by no means his best effort, however ; it bears little trace of that lesthetio 
culture to which the author subsequently attained. No other poem of 
his lacks unity so much ; far too large a portion of it is devoted to the 
mother country. Nor does he confine himself to England in his long 
introduction, which, after all, we cannot call tedious, since nowhere else 
in the poem does he soar higher, or become more truly poetical. There 
is beauty as well as patriotism in the following lines; they show at the 
same time that the author does not belong to that short-sighted, vainglori- 
ous herd who think that because their country is great now it must not 
only continue so forever, but make progress in greatness to the end 
of time: 



1866.] BKLLEg-LBTTRBS. 181 

*« Gem of tiM oeean I— einpraas of the aaa I 
My heart ooald weep, In fondneM, over thee I 
Uy soui tooks Ibrwsrd, throogha mist of tears , 
To pierce the dMrkneaa of the coming years, 
And dimly reads, amid thefntore gkx>m, 
Warnings she darea not utter of thy doom I 
And canst then perish,— island of the ft-ee 1 
Shall min dare to ting her shrood o'er thee I— 
Thoa who dost light the*hations, lUce a star, 
In solitary grandeur, fh>m aflv I "—p. 121. 

The poet then proceeds to warn his ooantrymen of the fate of 
Bahylon, Jemsalem, Thehes, Memphis, Oarthage, Athens, &o. This is 
done in quite an elevated strain ; nor are the great men or great works 
of those renowned cities overlooked. Returning from this flight he 
agun addresses England as follows : 

« But thoa hast writ thy records, where, snhllme. 
They scorn the strength of tempest and of time.— 
What though the temple from ita base decline I 
Its hallowed things may deck another shrine I 
What though thoo perish, on thy northern ware 1 — 
Thy phcsnlx-splrlt shall escape that grave ; 
Thy fkme shall mock the wasting flood of yearS|— 
Worlds are thy children,— contineDts thy heirs I ''—p. 128. 

America is, of coarse, one of the " worlds " that are her children,, 
and one of the *' continents " that are her heirs. Nor can we say that 
the expression is too strong, or that there is any more exaggeration in it 
than the poet is jastified in using in precisely such circumstances. But 
whether the same remark will apply to the passage that follows it we^ 
leave the reader to judge for himself when he has the volume in his own 
hands, for we must pass on to something more characteristic. It is no^ 
strange that our poet is more eloquent on England than he is on Austra* 
lia. The thoughts inspired hy the latter are, in general, little better than 
commonplace, bnt here and there we meet with an exception, saoh as 
the following: 

<« bias or the Orient I— gardens of the East I 
Thou giant secret of the liquid wastes- 
Long ages in untrodden paths concealed. 
Or, but in glimpsea fkint and few revealed,— 
Like some chimera of the ooean-cavee. 
Some dark and sphinz-llke riddle of the wayes^— 
Till he— the northern OEdipus— onfbrled 
His venturous sail, and solved it to the world I— 
Surpassing beauty sits upon thy brow, 
Bnt darkness veils thy all of time, save note; 
Enshrouded in the shadows of the past, 
And secret in thy birth as is the blaat I "—p. 128. 

In Part I. we have a very graphic picture of the native Australian j. 
bnt it is a dark, repulsive one, which, as a whole, inspires but little hope. 
Passing over the gloomier features we transcribe thbse lines whioh 



182 BBLLB»-LBTrRB8. [December, 

remind as (that, after all, the savage is a member of the human familj 
and as snch claims our sympathy : 

" Tat, OQ his forehead aita the aeal aablima 
Thai marks him monarch of his lovely clime ; 
And in his torpid apirli lark the seeda 
or manly yirtaea and of lofty deeda 1 
Within that breast. Where aatageshadowa roU, 
PblloBophy diacerna a apMe aonl, 
That— like the lamp wtthin an eaatem toml^— 
Bat looks more sickly 'mid sorrounding gloom I "—p. 181. 

But the best part of *^ Australia'- is the concluding ten or twelve 
couplets, although, like the other good passages alluded to, it is foreign 
to the sul^ect. It is Africa now whose fate inspires our poel Had he 
introduced nothing else after Lybia the conclusion would have been a 
happj one ; but in turning to England again, as he does, he reminds us 
rather unfavorably for himself of the closing lines of (Goldsmith's *^Trav- 
eller:" 

" Bat where is Africa?— I seek in vain 
Her swarthy form along its native main I 
Methinks I hear a wailing in the wild, 
Aa of a mother weeping o'er her child 1— 
Her Ihce lies bariod in mysterioos night, 
Where the wide waters of the globe anite ; 
And where the moonlight paved her hills with smiles, 
The billows moan amid a hundred isles. 
I tarn me fhim their knelling, with a sigh, 
To where a lovelier vision meets the eye ; 
Where spreads the Britiah name fh>m ran to son, 
And aU the nations of the earth are Osm I »— p. 141. 

The four last lines mar the beauty of the preceding couplets, not 
'because England does not deserve to be praised, but because, however 
true they are in themselves, they are out of place. If €roldsmith uses 
^somewhat similar language in his *^ Traveller,'' the circumstances are 
entirely different He had all the countries of Europe for his subject, 
•consequently he had England; whereas, although the ostensible subject 
•of Hervey is Australia, he begins and ends the poem with praise of 
Albion. At a later period he would not have done so, not that he loved 
'his native country less, but unity and artistic beauty more. 

The general characteristics of Hervey's muse are felicity of expression, 
^melody, and vigor. Sometimes he is singularly happy in his descriptions 
of natural scenery ; at other times he is lively and humorous, occasionally 
•reminding one of the scintillations of Hood. He does not often attempt 
the pathetic, but when he does few succeed so well ; few excite more 
^genuine' emotion or make a deeper impression in a stanza or two. We 
need not go beyond his ** Foreign Grave " to prove this. It will be 
admitted by most readers of taste and feeling that the two first stanzas 
which we transcribe are an excellent specimen of their kind : 



1866.] BKLLIS-LRTBUS. 183 

" IVur, fkrawAjr^— tha lepliTrt wkTa, 
In Blleooe o'er thj lonely grave ! 
No kindred slgb dlBtnrba the gloom 
That midnight hangs aroand thj tomb 
Bat spirits of a foreign air 
At evening love to linger there ; 
And roses of another shor»— 

Blooming where thou shalt bloom no mor»— , 

Shed sweetness o'er tl^ qniet spot 
Where thoa llest low bat onforgot ; 
While moonbeams of a distant sky 
Watch o'er it, like a mother's eye I 

*( The spot is holy,-— and It seems * 

Dke to some shadowy land of dreams I 

For, never does a single sound 

Break on tbe calm that hovers roond : 

Save when the lone bird, grieving nigh, 
- Complains onto the silent sky; 

Or the sad cypress waves its head, 

In murmurs, o'er thy narrow bed ; 

Or— while the gales are all at rest, 

Far oiTapon the billows' breast— 

The flow of yonder distant stream 

Gomes on tbe silence as a dream, 

Wbose music— like a thoo^t of thee— 

Tones all the heart to melody, 

And steals upon the calm aroand. 

As 't were the Aadtno of a sound I "—pp. 87-8. 

This is tender and musical. It is, in a word, true poetrj ; bnt there is 
more pathos as well as beantj in the two stanzas which follow it, espe- 
cially in the second. Bather than quote either, however, we prefer giving 
a passage from another poem, one which afPSords still stronger proof of tbe 
author's power in awakening human sympathy even in behalf of tbe 
degraded outcast and criminal. Those acquainted with the poems of 
Henrey need hardly be told that we mean his '* Convict Ship." Many a 
bright eye that has never seen a^onvict has shed briny tears over this 
little poem, and, what is still better, it has moved manly and stem hearts 
to remember that it is not well to treat even the condemned malefactor 
with needless harshness. Limited as our space is just now, we make 
room for the greater part of the poem, feeling satisfied that all who have 
not previously seen it will thank us for doing so : 

«« THE CONVICT SHIP. 
" Horn on the waters I and, pnrple and bright, 
Borsts on4he biUows the flushing of light ! 
O'er the glad waves, like a child of the son, 
See the tall vessel goes gallantly on ; 
Foil to tbe breese she unbosoms her sail. 
And her pennant streams onward, like hope, in the gals I 
The winds come around her, in murmur and song, 
And the surges rcjjoice, as they bear her akmgl 



184 BBLLKS-LSTTRSs. December, 

Vpwurdi dk0 polnti to the gold«i-«df«d doodi, 
And (he eellor stngs gajly, aloA In the ■broods I 
Onward die gUdet, Mnid ripple end spraj, 
Over the wftterir-eway, end awaj 1 
Bright ee the Tisloas atycnth, ere they pert, 
Fuelng away y like a dream of the heart I 
Who— aa the beaatlfol pageant aweepe by, 
Moale aroond her, and sonihlne on hlgb~ 
Faoeea to think, amid glttter and glow, 
0, there be hearto that are breaking, below I 

<( KIght on the warei I— and the moon la on high, 
Hong, like a gem, en the brow of the sky ; 
Ttpeedlng its depths, in the power of her might, 
AaA turning the eloada, as they pass her, to light I 
Look to the waters I— «sleepoD their bresst, 
Beems not the ship like an island of rest f 
Bright and alone on the shadowy main. 
Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain t 
Who— aa she smiles In the silyery light, 
Spreading her wings on the bosom of night, 
AkMie on the deep^— as the moon in the sky,— 
A phantom of beanty I— -conld deem, with a sigh. 
That so loTely a thing Is the mansion o( sin, 

I that are smitten lie bursting within I 
I he watches her sHently gliding— 
Bemembers that ware after wave Is dividing 
I that sorrow and guilt could not sever, 
I that are parted and broken foreyer I 
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the ware, 
The death-bed of hope, or the yoong spirit's grave I *' —pp. 10, SO. 

There are several other pieoes in the tiny, neat volame before us from 
which we ahoold like to give an extract, bat other works also claim onr 
attention. Indeed, we would gladlj spend an hour with our readers 
discussing the merits of the poems entitled *' Illustrations of Pictures " 
and " ninstrations of Modern Sculpture." After it was decided that these 
prove the author an art critic of no mean order as well as a poet, we 
would perhaps turn to that curious, quaint, deeply homorous, and 
amusing poem entitled '* The Devil^s Progress," and, having made an 
effort to explain some of its best Hudibrastio hits at the leading men of 
England, we would fain spend at least another half-hour in seeking more 
beauties in the *^ Poetical Sketch Book." But we must only allow the 
reader to do this for himself. 



Laurentia: A Taleofjapan. By Ladt Gxoboiana Fullbbton. 16mo, 
pp. 216. Baltimore: Kelly & Piet. 1866. 

Thi gentlemen whose imprint this volume bears evince considerable, 
taste and discrimination in their publications ; and they issue them with- 
out any unseemly flourish, allowing them to depend on their merits for 
their circulation. Nor does the book now before us form an exception. 



1866.] BCLLXflHUVTTRIS. 185 

Ladj Fallerton has written maoh ; but she has done so not to gain fame, 
hot to do good ; and there is not a production of hers that we have had 
the pleasure of ezamioing which does not hear the traces of that laudable 
design. A glance at a few pages of hers is snfflcient to satisfy any intel- 
ligent person that she is a lady of high caltare as well as talent. There 
is no affectation in her language; no spasmodic effort to be brilliant 
whether in description, portraiture, or narrative; she is calm, thoughtful, 
and chaste, and at the same time much more lively and attractive than 
those who makethe most laborious attempts at being fascin ating. 

Her present book is unpretending; it has no high-sounding name ; it 
makes no enticing promises, but it is worth reading; and very few who 
commence it will be willing to lay it down nntilit is read. We speak of it 
in these terms, although it is a pionsbook, and we have no pretensions to 
piety ; we do so because we always admire what has a salutary tendency. 
Lady Follerton'a style has undoubtedly a refining effect on the youthful 
of her own sex ; and should we appreciate this merit tlie less because she 
is an enthusiastic admirer of the good Fathers who did so much to estab- 
lish Christianity in Japan, and who suffered to be immolated as victims 
rather than deny the religion of Ohrist f But we will allow the authoress 
to tell her object in her own words; as she does in her preface : 

** It has been attempted to give a picture of the Church of Japan in the six- 
teenth century, and to illustrate in the shape of a narrative the peculiar char- 
acter of the Japanese converts to Christianity, rather than to compose a regular 
historical tale. But it may be safely asserted that not one trait of heroism, not 
one trait of self-sacrifice, not one sentiment of exalted virtue from the lips of 
priest or catechumen, woman or child, which finds plaCe in these pages, but has 
its counterpart in the annals of a Church founded by a saint, fruitful in the most 
remarkable virtues, and which, after a hundred years' duration, did not die away 
from the decline of faith or the lukewarmneas of its members, but was sud- 
denly extinguished as it were in a sea of blood, leaving behind it glorious 
records of its existence, but not one priest to carry on the service of religion, 
and but very few Christians to perpetuate its memory." 

*' Laurentia '* is really a more attractive story than this would lead 
those to suppose who judge of a religious book by the class of perform- 
ances known by that name in recent years — that is, those who regard 
religions and dull as synonymous terms so far as they relate to stories. 
But were we to omit the religious part altogether in ^^Laurentia," there 
would still be sufficient to reward the reader for his time in perusing it. 
As an evidence of this we extract a brief specimen of Lady FuUerton's 
descriptive powers : 

<* At the close of a sultry day, amidst groves of ocange-trees and oleanders, 
the Queen and the Princesses of the Court of Arima were enjoying the evening 
breezes in the gardens of the palace. The quaint peculiarities of Japanese land- 
scape gardening were displayed to the utmost in the grounds of this royal resi- 
dence. It was a fairy-like scene in which nature and art combined to please 
the eye and soothe the senses, with images of peaceful repose or graceful ani- 
mation. Shining alleys, paved with a variety of smooth bright colored stones 
Mid bordered by magnificent flowering shrubs and rows of red and white came- 



1 86 BKLLE8-LSTIRB8 [December, 

lias, intenected the t^nga in every direction. Bpftrkling ctaondes fell from 
artificitol rocks, and formed at their feet a number of small lakes, in which gold 
and silver fishes disported themselves in active idleness. Sculptured representa- 
tions of animals lurked in the shade of miniature forests, and peepeid out of 
caves and grottoes ; whilst cages full of living birds, bearing on their wings the 
brightest hues of the rainbow, stood in bowers formed by the gnarled and 
twisted branches of the double blossoming fruit-trees, the victims and the tri- 
umphs of Japanese horticulture, devoted to ornament alone, barren of fruit, 
but prodigal of their pink and white flowers, and taught to thrust at man's 
bidding their fantastic and lovely boughs into every dwelling, or weave them 
over every building where he chooses to guide them. On the rising hills whidi 
surrounded this *' garden of delights " was a wood of dwarf ilex-trees, mingled 
with rose-bushes and overtopped by a coronal of the three colored planes, that 
singular production of the Japanese Islands, whose green, red, and yellow foli- 
age stands out in such gorgeous relief against the deep azure of an Eastern 
sky."— pp. 86, 86. 

A still more interesting desoriptlon follows this — ^that of the good and 
beautifol Qrace Ucondono— bat we are sorry we have not room for it ; all 
we can do is to refer the reader to the book, remarking that it would be 
well for many who consider themselves novelists to study the graceful 
ease and fidelity to natnre with which Lady Fnllerton sketches a beaati- 
ful portrait. We should also like to transfer to oar pages the scene in 
which yonng Isafai implores Laurentia to beoome hia wife, and. in which 
she sternly refuses his tenderest and strongest appeals ; her only condition 
being that he must become a Christian, like herself, or they can never be 
united; although, having been broaght up with him since they were both 
children, she folly reciprocates his love. Isafai was too proud to yield ; 
they parted with mutual sorrow ; but it is pleasant to add that in a short 
time he repented ; became a sincere convert to Christianity, and soon 
after Laurentia became his happy and beloved wife. 

1. Grace Baughton'** Story, By Miss Leb. 24mo, pp. 227. 

2. A Summer at Mdrley, By Aniob Fislbb Yebnon, author of the Story 

of a Governess. 24mo, pp. 21. 

8. Th>e Some of the Lotus Flower and Other Stories, By Miss Anna B. 
Cooks. 24mo. New York: Gen. Prot. Episo. 8. S. Union and 
Church Book Society. 1866. 

Thb readers of our journal are well acquainted with the general 
character of the publications of this Society. They are not written 
either for fame or for the purpose of making proselytes ; as the name of the 
society implies, they are designed chiefly, if not exclusively, for the nse of 
th e children who attend Sunday-school. There is no religious dogmatism i n 
them ; no bigotry ; and but very little, if any, sectarianism. This indeed 
might be inferred from the fact that nearly all are the productions of ladies ; 
for it is not often that the latter have much taste for theological disqui- 
sitions ; and we think we may add that none are more liberal towards 
those who differ with them than Episcopalian ladies. This is certainly 
true of the authors whose tiay volumes stand at the head of this notice; 
each writes in a Christian, not in a sectarian, or coatroversial, apiriti and 



1866.] BKLLE&-LETTRXS. 187 

combines asefhl worldlj knowledge with Ohriatian precepts which no 
sect that pretends to regard Ohrist as its founder can reject. 
. Grae§ Baughtan's Story is much better written and far more interest- 
ing and instmotivtf than many a pretentious novel wliich reaches our 
tablcL The sentence given at the head of the first chapter gives an idea 
of the design of the story/ viz.: "To learn and labor truly to get mine 
own living, and to do my duty in that state of life unto which it shall 
please God to call me." We will, however, add a word from the story 
itself: " I am the daughter of a country clergyman," says Grace, " who 
supported a large family on a yearly salary of £60. It was a hard struggle 
to live and bring up seven children as ladies and gentlemen on such a 
snm; and when I was a very little girl I remember wishingto have Alad- 
din^s lanap that I might give my parents everything they needed." 

We need hardly remark what a suggestive theme this is ; what a prolific 
subject. It will be generally conceded that hardly any lady of culture, 
with even an ordinary literary taste, could fail to invest it with interest ; 
but Miss Lee has a well-stored mind and talent of no mean order, and 
withal she is enthusiastic in her effort to do good. 

A Summer at Marley is more simple ; it is rather a series of frag- 
ments than a connected story, but it is not the less agreeable on this 
account ; indeed, many will prefer its half-finished portraitures of home 
life in the country to the more regular and artistic story of Grace Uaugh- 
ton, especially as it is sufficiently evident from her style and the happy 
manner in which she inculcates useful lessons that Annie Vernon, too, 
understands *' the Unities." But, as already intimated, her design Is not 
to gain fame, but to do what good she can ; and that she is capable of 
doing much for the little ones will be readily admitted by any intelligent 
person who examines her book. 

But the most poetical book of the three is the ^* Home of the Lotus 
Flower and Other Stories." That which gives the little volume its name 
is really a charming story for the young. It combines botany, geography, 
and Egyptian antiquities, in an exceedingly attractive manner ; the reader 
learns useful lessons from it, and is much interested at the same time ; 
before he reaches the end he is convinced that all books are not dull, 
after all. Then he passes on to the story of " The Spider Mother," 
which, if possible, awakens his curiosity still more. He begins to think 
that spiders are much more interesting things tban he had ever consid- 
ered them before. He learns that they are even artists; at least very 
skilful weavers. He is thus prepared to make another step in the grand 
field of nature, and accordingly he is introduced to the mysteries of an 
Ant Hill. 

This is a judicious mode of initiating the youthful student in 
natural history ; while it cannot offend the most sensitive or the most 
scrupulous. It always affords us sincere pleasure to recommend such 



188 BBLLis-LviTREs. [December, 

books ; and we examine them with as mnch care and as mnch respect 
for their anthers as if they were dnodeoimo volnmes on the most 
abstruse or the most Important subjects. The three books are embel- 
lished with illnstrations ; thej are also clearly printed and tastefully 
bound in muslin. 

Ate Maria. Notre Dame, Indiana. Nos. 45, 46, 47, and 48. 

To most Protestants the title of this journal would suggest the idea of 
superstition, or, at best, of undue reverence for the Mother of Christ ; 
that is, a degree of reverence which is due only to the Saviour himself, as 
ofiequal with God. Our own impression of it was that it was designed 
chiefly, if not exclusively, for those who devote their lives to religion ; 
but, heretic as we are and have been, we could never regard it as super- 
stition to reverence the Mother of Clirist ; on the contrary, we have 
always thought that those who do not reverence the Mother cannot be 
said to regard the Son as their Saviour. As for those who treat her with 
disrespect and contumely, we could never consider their Christianity as 
otherwise than spurious. Tiiere is scarcely any human being so depraved 
but that it would be offensive to him to speak disrespectfully of his 
mother ; and can we believe that Christ has less esteem for his mother 
than the hnmen malefactor? 

Now that we have carefully examined four numbers, we find that we 
were mistaken in supposing that the work was designed only for those 
devoted to religion. The journal is, indeed, essentially Catholic ; but it is 
not more exclusively religious than other Catholic papers of the best 
class ; in other words, it is not iess interesting as a family paper. With- 
out making any invidious comparisons, we could wish tliat many religious 
journals, belonging to different denominations, which occasionally reach 
our table exhibited as much taste and culture in their contents as the 
"Ave Maria.'' 

But the conductor of this journal is no ordinary editor. The Very 
Bev. £. Sorin, who has established it, and under whose auspices it has, 
we understand, attained a wide circulation, has also established, or, at 
least, has been mainly instrumental in establishing, the University of 
Notre Dame, Indiana, which has already become one of the most flour- 
ishing Catholic institutions in this country. Although Father Sorin is a 
gentlemon of high literary, as well as scholastic, attainments, he is not de- 
pendent on his own efforts for the success of the ^^ Ave Maria,'' for we 
perceive that the ablest Catholic writers in America are among his con- 
tributors. We understand that its pages are not unfrequently enriched 
by contributions from His 0race the Archbishop of Baltimore, author of 
'* History of the Protestant Reformation," &o. ; and we are sure that Dr. 
O. A. Brownson, the eminent reviewer, writes for it occasionally, if not 
regularly. 



1866.] BELLlfi-LBfTRBfi. 189 

Had w6 Been no published statement on thb subject we should have had 
no difficulty in coming to the conclusion, from a earefal perusal of some of 
the articles, that they were the contribotions of experienced, intelligent, 
and thoughtful writers. We do not mean to say that nil the articles in 
the ** Ave Maria" are of this character. It contains a department for chil- 
dren ; and what coald be more unsuitable fur early youth than profound 
reasoning f May it not be doubted wliether such would be suited for the 
majority of the ladies f Without any disrespect to the sex, we thmk not; 
and accordingly we like the journal all the more, and think it the bettor 
adapted for family reading, for the raisoellaneons lighter pieces which it 
contains. But before we lay down the journal let us giwe a passage from 
its contents, which will enable the reader to judge for himself whether 
it is to be regarded as a superstitious publication. We need not go beyond 
the last number we have received — ^that for the week ending December 1, 
1866. Turning over the pages of this we find a paper entitled ^^ Reason 
and Beligion," which, we perceiye, is intended to be the beginning of a 
series. We can only make room fur the two first paragraphs ; but even 
these will give an idea of tlie enlightened and liberal spirit in which the 
principal papers in the *' Ave Maria** are written : 

'* It has been fashionable for some time, not only with the declared enemies, 
but even with some who profess to be the warm friends of religion, to treat it 
and reason as if they were entirely independent of each other, and in fact as 
mutoally antagonistic. It is assumed that reason can exist and operate in full 
freedom and strength without nious or religious afiection, and that pious or 
religions affection in no sense depends on reason or intelligence. But there is 
no reason without religion, and no religion without reason, as it will be my pur* 
pose in this new series of articles to show. 

'* Knowledge without religion is satanic, and worse than worthless to its 
possessor, for it is not a rational knowledge directed to the true end of man ; 
and religion without knowledge is a blind sentiment losing itself in idolatry, 
superstition, or a savage and destructive fanaticisin. Beason is essential to 
man's nature, that which distinguishes him from the lower creation, and ren- 
ders him kindred with the angels, and, in sorae sense, with God himself. It is 
the faculty of apprehending and acting voluntarily from the principle of our 
existence, and of apprehending and acting for— pr<)pter— the end for which we 
exist. There is and can be no human act that is a perfectly irrational act. 
Piety or religion without reason or the mtional activity of the soul is not, as say 
the theologians, actus Aumanti, and must be either wholly extraneous to man, 
or mere eensitive affection, what Catholics call sensible devotion, and which 
has in itself no moral chfuracter, and is neither praiseworthy or blameworthy." 

It 1b creditable to the dignitaries of the Ohurch that they do not 

appreciate the ability with which this journal is conducted anything the 

leiM for being published in an obscure corner of Indiana ; i^ indeed, any 

place can be said to be obscure which has the benefit of a University 

jike that of Notre Dame. Even the Pope has honored the learned editor 

with an autograph letter, in the Latin language, in approbation of the 

work, concluding as follows: ** Benedioimus opua inoceptum et omnes 

co6peratore8 et Dominus N. I. 0. opus perflciat solidetque.'"** 

o ** We bless the undertaking and all the co-operators thereunto, and may 
oor Lord Jesus Christ perfect and strengUien the work." 



190 SCIENCE. [December, 

The Jonrnal has anotlier charaoteristio which we must not omit to 
mention. The proceeds of it are not desigoed to enrich anj individaal 
or firm; in other words, it is no hnsiness specnlation. We see that it is 
intended for the benefit of ^* the Home of aged and invalid Priests who 
are nnable to discharge any longer the laborions duties of the Sacred 
Ministry.'' If the journal had no other recommendation than this it 
wonld have afforded us pleasure to call attention to it ; and we are con- 
vinced that many Protestants as wall as Catholics would subscribe for it 
if for no otiier purpose than to contribute to the comfort of men who are 
proverbial for their kindness and benevolence wherever their true char- 
acter is known, when they are no longer able to secure comfort for them 
selves. 

SCIENCE. 

Eummtary Anatomy and Physiology, for Oolleges, Academies, and other 
Schools. By Edward HnroHcooK^D.D.f LL.D.,and Edward Hrron- 
oooK, Jr., M. D., Professors in Amherst College, Revised edition. 
12mo, pp. 448. i^ew York : Ivison, Phinney, Blakeman & Co. 
1806. 

Wb take up this volume in compliance with the wishes of several of 
onr edncational friends at a distance, who, from time to time, have 
requested our opinion of the text-books issued by different publishing 
houses in this city. One writes to inquire about Appleton^s books; 
another to ask whether A. S. Barnes & Cc's are as good as they are 
represented, and a third party wishes to know whether it is not tme, in 
onr opinion, that Ivison, Phinney & Co.'s publications are, upon the whole, 
the best published in New Tork ? While ^sposed to be as obliging as 
possible, it has been utterly ont of our power to reply to all the parties 
who have thus honored us. We made the attempt, however; more than 
a year ago we made separate replies to several ; bat the more letters we 
wrote the more new inquiries weireceived, until we finally resolved to 
answer all at once in this manner. Even now we can do no more than 
commence, for the reason that we express bo opinion of any book in this 
Jonrnal until we have carefully examined it ; and this requires much more 
time and labor than teachers and others generally suppose. 

We commence with the publications which, so far as we have seen, 
we consider the best. Ivison, Phinney & Co. may, indeed, have issued 
indifferent text-books within the last three or foor years, for we have 
lost sight of them daring that time. Their previous publications we had 
carefully examined, and our opinion of several is recorded in the eadier 
numbers of this jonmal —including Robinson's Higher MsthematicB, 
Gray's BotantCHl' Series, Fasquelle's French Series, and Woodbury's 
German Series. We thought each of these good, and we did not hesitate 



1866.] sciKHOS. 191 

to say BO ; and for the same reason we recommend the yolame now be- 
fore as. From a oarefol examination of its maltifarioas contents we 
feel convinced that it is the best text-book on Anatomy and Physiology, 
of its size, that has yet been published in this ootintry. It certainly con- 
tains a larger number of interesting and valaable physiological facts — not 
to mention* its comprehensive sketch of anatomy, both human and com- 
parative—than any dnodecimo volume which it has been our privilege to 
examine within the last four or five years. 

Had we been in the habit of judging authors by what they say of them- 
selves we should not perhaps have gone beyond the preface ; for Profes- 
sors Hitchcock, far from making any of those extravagant promises which 
are so fashionable at the present day, adopt the language of modesty and 
diffidence. *^ We make no pretensions,** they tell us, " to distinguished 
attainments or reputation in these sciences as a reason for writing this 
book. But both of us have, for a great number of years, been in the habit 
of hearing recitations and giving lectures upon them in the Ck)llege and 
the Academy, and we ought to know what sort of a text-book is needed. 
But we dare not boast that we have come up to our ideal." 

This is always the language of men who are qualified for their task ; for 
it is those who know most that boast least, and vice vena. The remark we 
have quoted is followed by the observation that the authors *^ havd tried to 
give a condensed yet dear exhibition of the leading principles and facts 
which are detailed in such works as Carpenter's Human Philosophy, Has- 
salPs Microscopic Anatomy," &c., &c. Several other works are mentioned; 
indeed, the whole list they give embraces nearly all the treatises on both 
sciences which are recognized in Europe and America as standard authori- 
ties ; and we can bear testimony to the fidelity and success with which 
the essence of those works has been extracted, as intimated, for the volume 
before us. 

Among the chapters which please us most are those which de- 
scribe the organs of secretion, the digestive organs, and the organs of 
breathing ; these give more interesting particulars than we have found in 
any other elementary treatise. Another excellent chapter b that which 
describes the heart, blood, and blood-vessels. There is a lucidity in the 
language of the authors which would have pointed them out as profes- 
sional educators to those who had never heard of them before or seen 
their preface; none but experienced instructors could have grouped the 
Sticts as we find them here so as to anticipate those difficulties which are 
moat apt to discourage the stud^it, and render what is generally regarded 
as dry and irksonl'e not only easy but attractive. In short, no anatomist 
or physiologist, however learned or talented, who has not had experience 
in the class-room could have combined within equal limits the various 
excellent features of this book ; and there are some of these which we 
had not met with in any other American text-book. This is true, for 



192 8CIBN0& [December, 

example, of the hygienio inferenoes dedaeed from descriptions of the 
structure and uses of the principal organs of the body ; it is alsQ true of 
ibe religions inferences from anatomy and physiology. The latter feature 
especially claims the attention of every intelligent parent and guardian ; * 
of all who have children to be educated vrhom they wish to reverence the 
Oreator, if only for the wisdom, skill and beneficence he has displayed in 
fashioning the human body alone. 

In addition to the graphicalness and clearness of language to which we 
have alluded the student has also the benefit of copious illustrations, 
together with a full index and glossary. Whenever a book of this kind 
falls into our hands it will afford us pleasure to recommend it, let the 
author or authors be who they may. If other books published by the 
same house, and which we have on our table, prove, on examination, aa 
good and useful as ** Hitchcock's Anatomy and Physiology,'* it will also 
afford us pleasure to point out their merits; i^ upon the other hand, we 
find them like too many text-books of the present day, we shall not fall 
to criticise them accordingly, however disagreeable the latter task may 
be to onrselveii, tb authors, or publishers. Nor shall we foi^t the hooka 
of other publishers, concerning which our opinion has been so often asked. 
Probably it is these we would have taken up now, but that we prefer to 
commence with the language of approbation rather than with that of cen- 
sure. 

Annual EeporU of the Comptroller for City and County af Kew York 

for 1865. 

THEiiB is a good deal of curious information in these reports ; especi- 
ally in that which relates to the city. Those who examine the .latter 
can no longer be at a loss to comprehend how it is that we are so heavily 
taxed ; the enormous nutnber of salaries would go far to explain the 
mystery, although comparatively they are but a small item. They 
are apt to suggest the inquiry whether one of the chief reasons why self- 
government is so much praised is not the facility it afifbrds of getting 
one's fiuger into the public purse— it in so pleasant to get handsomely 
paid for governing ourselves. 

But unfortunately in a republic all cannot have offices; some mnst be 
content to be governed, not to govern ; at least they ought to be oontent, 
although they are notoriously otherwise. Most offices are badly ad- 
ministered, because those out of office have not a hand in them ; for the 
same reason those who administer them almost universally turn ont to 
be faithless men. At the beginning, indeed, they are often models, 
and they continue to be honest as long as personal favors are ex- 
pected from them ; but no sooner do these expectations prove delusive 
than it is discovered that the model functionary of only a few months 
o is a public awindler! 



186B.] BCIBNCB. 193 

At first view this may seem to exaggerate the facts^ hut it might he 
illastrated hj a hundred examples. Now, however, we need not go 
heyond the Comptroller, whose term of office is about to expire. That 
Mr. Brennan was highly popular until within a brief period none can 
deny ; he was praised by nearly all classes for his inflexible integrity in 
protecting our tax-payers from imposition. But in time it was found 
that he was .inflexible In other respects also ; he refused too many for 
those little favors which of course they had a right to expect; and ac- 
cordingly he is no longer the same man who foiled the gas monopolies in 
their attempt to secure a new charter before their old one had expired, 
which would enable them to charge what they chose fpr their gas, and 
who did several other things very much to the disgust of certain Alder- 
men and Oounoilmen and other functionaries who seem to think that one 
of the greatest char^is of self-frovernment consists in the fine opportuni- 
ties it aflfords enterprising patriots to sell their influence to the highest 
bidder. 

As all who consider themselves statesmen, at least, on a small scale, 
cannot have an opportunity of displaying their wisdom in office, some 
occasionally make officers of themselves; that is, they form themselves 
into a society of mntnal admiration and announce to the world their 
intention of reforming all abuses. If they can get a few millionnaires to 
join thom then both their qualiflcations and their motives are beyond dis- 
pnte. Among the*r many privileges is that of accusing any functionary 
they like, or rather any functionary they dislike, and call on him to show 
his books if he pretends to deny that he is not a robber I 

Thus those elected by a minority of their fellow -citizens are treated 
like malefactors by those whom none have elected but themselves ; and 
at the same time none are more wide-mouthed in praise of representa- 
tive government than the latter. If we think that our public function- 
aries need to be watched in order to prevent them from robbing or 
otherwise injuring ns, why not elect a body of magistrates as the 
ancient Athenians did, for the express and sole purpose of scrntiniz 
ing the conduct of public functionaries in general and denouncing 
and bringing to trial those whom they suspected? This had the 
merit of being a legal proceeding; the censors could not be said to 
usurp functions which did not belong to them ; yet it was soon found 
that the censors were often worse themselves than those they censured, 
and that not unfrequently it was the faithful and not the faithless public 
servants whom they denounced. Perhaps the censors of the present day 
are too high-minded and incorruptible for this, and yet Mr. Brennan seems 
to insinuate that they, too, have certain little motives of their own in 
pursuing the patriotic, disinterested course they do. We allude to cer- 
tain remarks which he makes in his letter to Messrs. Moses Taylor, Royal 
Phelps, Duncan, Sherman ds Co., Wm. B. Astor, &c., &c., when solicited 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVII. 13 



104 sciENci. [December, 

bj those gentlemen to beooroe a candidate for re-eleotion. First he makes 
some remarks in reference to the moral effect of their proposition, the 
justice of which can hardly be denied. We are aware that it is the fash- 
Jon with editors as well as with others to speak harshlj rather than fairlj 
of a retiring public officer, bat we prefer to be just rather than to Join in 
the crj of the mob, and accordinglj we quote : 

'* Your expressed desire for my continuance in chaige of the city and ooonty 
finances is the more oomplioientary because of your Uige financial interest*, 
which are so important as to supersede all politiosl considerations. You pay 
the heayiest taxes ; you are the meet directly affected by municipal extrava- 
gance, corruption or miamanagement ; and consequently your pnuse, which is 
never lightly bestowed, is one of the most encouraging rewards which a public 
officer can receive, and a proof , also, of the equal approbation of the masses of 
our fellow-dtiiens." 

No one can deny that this is good, fair logic A little further on 
Mr. Brennan proceeds to pay some attention to the organization known 
as the Oitizens' Association. As we are not a politician we cannot un- 
dertake to decide whether this body is doing right or wrong ; whether 
it is actuated exclusively by patriotic motives ; whether it ever thinks 
of self at all ; or whether it condescends to give a hand in secaring 
offices for its friends ander certain conditions. The Comptroller knows 
the Association much better than we, and he informs his correspondentb 
in the letter under consideration that it '^ is managed by young lawyers 
who treat the responsible members as selfish doctors treat wealthy patients, 
living upon the fees they extort for dealing with imaginary complaints.^ 
This is rather a serious charge against a body supposed by so many 
honest men and women to be immaculate ; and yet we urast confess that 
we had heard a very similar aocoant;from others before Brennan had, so &r 
as we are aware, said anything on the subject. We prefer to believe,'how- 
e?er— thatia, if we can — that the Association is an illustration of the fact 
that the good old times of Republican Rome are returning ; it is our duty 
to hear at the same time what Comptroller Brennan has to say in reference 
to that body. Of course no one need believe it any farther than he thinka 
itisjast: 

** For example, the defiunation to which I had been subjected by the managers 
of the Gitiaens' Association having culminated in a demand for my removal 
from office, I proposed to my slanderers to select three of the most skilful ac- 
countants in the city to make a thorough investigation of the affidrs of my of- 
fice. The offer wa^ accepted and the ablest financial investigators were chosen, 
Sfilely by the Association. The gentlemen selected were entirely unknown to 
me. Every bureau, office, book, document, paper, and record of my d^iari- 
ment were placed at their disponi for a rigid exainination. They took their 
own time ; they adopted their own methods of investigation ; and every detail 
of my administration was deliberately and most critiodly inspected. When 
they had finished their labors—having found nothing to condemn but evexv- 
thing to approve— as they stated to me, their evidence was coolly suppressed. 
Would it have beeaa. suppressed had they detected the eomiptlon which the 
Association managers had employed them to discover ? Is such groas injustice 
from the very men who are supposed to be most interested in his integrity to 
be the reward of a faithful public officer ? Your magnanimous testimonial re- 
bukes and remedies this numifest unfairness, and for that I again thank you." 



1866.] 8CIEKGE. 195 

The BQppressionof the evidence alladed to here looks rather snspicioas. 
It may have been done through virtnons motives ; perhaps tlie reason was 
that the Association was too tender-hearted to hart the feelings of the 
Cornptroller ; or, perhapa, they did not like to oanse nndue excitement 
in the citj, lest it might canse the cholera to spread among their fellow- 
citixena; for, if we do not mistake, the epidemic was creating considerable 
trepidation jnst at this time. Bat the Comptroller relates another little 
incident which is somewhat oarioas : 

**Another example, equally remarkable, yon may, perhaps, have forgot- 
ten. Two years ago I bnilt a residence upon a piece of land previously owned 
by me on the Bloomingdale road. The managers of the Citisens' AsBOciation 
at oDce announced that I had erected * a palatial mansion ' on the banks of the 
Hudson. The press described the dimensions, richness, and grandeur of this 
imaginary palace, and the extent and magnificence of its grounds. These 
premises once stated, the inference was freely drawn that I had plundered the 
city treasury, and grown wealthy upon the spoils of *the ring.' You were, 
doubtles, as astonished as myself to find a tale so baseless generally credited 
and everywhere repeated, lliere stood a simple two-story clap-boarded house 
on the comer of 105th street, an unanswerable but unheeded refutation of all 
this slander. Any prudent citixen could have built such a residence as I did 
at a cost not exceeding $11,000, and any taxpayer could see for himself how 
deetitute it was of aristocratic pretensions ; but the slander stall survives." 

Perhaps this only shows that the members of the Association are inno- 
cent people, who, not being much in the habit of thinking for themselves, 
are easily induced to adopt the thoughts of others. If these '' others'' happen 
to be persons who take two-story houses for magnificent palaces — that is, 
mole-hills for mountains — ^then it can be easily understood how the Asso- 
ciation may have been mistaken in the plenitade of its righteous 
zeal. Brennan thinks differently, however, although he does not give 
them credit for much intelligence or acumen : 

" But while the managers of the Citizens' Association have thus maligned 
and misrepresented me, when have they sustained me in my struggles with the 
real oomiptionists f Never. These men have been silent, or detracting, while 
1 have battled almost single-handed, encouraged only by my sense of duty 
and of right, by the assistance and advice of their Honors Mayors Opdyke and 
Hoffman, and by your private praises, against the hundreds of jobers who have 
sought to deplete the treasury and increase the taxes. Soon after I came into 
ctSce the Common Council passed an ordinance authorizing the issue of notes 
for the fractional parts of a dollar, to an amount not exceeding $3,000,000, 
and the Comptroller was directed to procure plates; paper, and the machinery 
for manuCacturing this city '* money." I refused to carry this resolution into 
effect, and in a communication to the Common Council distinctly pointed out 
the illegality of the proposed issue, and the dangerous consequences of such a 
misuse of the public credit. The project was killed ; the press and prominent 
gentlemen like yourselves endorsed my action, but the CiUzem/ Association did 
nothing and said nothing in approval of my course, thus leaving me to infer, 
as was sabeequently proved, that I had incurred the condemnation of the Asso- 
ciation managers. The same state of afEairs existed in regard to the riot claims, 
when, after having saved the city over $100,000 by a laborious personal In- 
vestigation of each claim, I was not in the least assisted by the Citizens' A^^so- 
dation, but was vehemently attacked." 

The case of the gas monopolies is also referred to by the Comptroller : 



195 SCIENCE. [December, 

He remiads his correspondents how he foiled the plans of the monop- 
olists, even after they had obtained from our Aldermen, Ooancilmen, and 
Major, all those impartial and worthy functionaries oonld give. Bat this 
is so well known to oar readers that we need give no extract here in re- 
gard to it. Brennan also alludes to certain contracts which afforded the 
Association an op porta aity of evincing its reformatory and protective 
zeal ; bat that body seems to have been too much absorbed in other mat. 
ters to bestow any attention on trifles of this kind : 

*' Certain contractors (Baldwin & Jayooz) were bidders for the contracts for 
building gate-houses and aqueduct for the new reservoir. The contract 
was awarded to Messrs. Faux^hild, Walker & Co., who did the work. Messrs. 
Baldwin & Jayooz, claiming damages, then obtained an amendment to the 
tax levy providing for an arbitration of their claim. I never learned of the 
proceeding until a judgment was obtained agunst the city, amounting ultimately 
to about $75,000. I made inqui-ies, which satisfied me that the contractors 
had no just dalm, and that the case had not been properly defended. I re- 
quested the then CSounsel to the Corporation to take an appeal. He declined 
to do BO, insisting that the rights of the contractors had become fixed. I then 
employed private counsel to set aside the proceedings. The motion was despe- 
rately resisted at every stage, until the case finally reached the Court of Appeals, 
where I was triumphantly sustained, the entire proceeding set aside, and the 
money saved. Did the Citiaens' Association lend me any assistance, or applaud 
my efforts in this determined legal jstruggle f You are aware that it did not " 

Many think the Commissioners of the Oroton Aqaedaot Department 
very patriotic and upright gentlemen ; nor do we mean to say that they 
are otherwise. Bat if we are to accept the statement of the Oomptroller — 
which, ao far as we are aware, remains nncontradicted— it seems that Messrs. 
Stephens, Darragh and Graven are not entirely satisfied with the consid- 
eration of $5,000 a year, which each receives for his services, bnt want 
to have certain little perquisites too, in addition to snch odds and ends 
as may accrue from the appointments of so many clerks for the Depart- 
ment at salaries ranging from $700 to $3,000 ; not to mention the hiring 
of so many workmen, which is said to have a considerable infiaenoe at 
the polls. Mr. Brennan insinuates rather plainly that they are somewhat 
more anxious to make ** improvements *' at the public expense than is 
strictly consistent with the poblio interest. Others, indeed, pretend some- 
thing of the same kind; and say that they are popular notwithstanding, 
becaase they have many friends ** connected with the press." Be this 
as it may, their mode of showing their zeal is described as follows by the 
Oomptroller: 

** I found that the Croton Aqueduct Department recently proposed to let 
twenty two different contracts, amounting in the aggregate to $800,000. I 
discovered among the list of jobs one sewer proposed to be built in a street not 
opened by law ; that many bids were for sewers which could not be finished 
before the frost, and therefore would have to be suspended If commenced ; and 
that twelve of these jobs were for paving streets with trap or block pavement. 
I found that the Board had already let, during the year, forty-six jobs of the 
same description, involving an aggregate of over three hundred thousand 
yards at a cost of over $800,000, and that the price of this pavement, under the 
operations of that department, bad steadily gone up from $16 per yard to $50 



1866.] SGiSNOB. 19t 

per yard . I also found that it would be impottdble, with the existing resooices 
for material for this kind of work, to go on with the contracts, and that the 
only effect would be to provide for a large army of inspectors and supernume- 
raries at the public expense. The Croton Department, while admitting the 
justice of my objection as to the sewer in the street not opened by law, refused 
to abate a single job from their list, saying that as to part of the work the 
Common Council had ordered it, and they were not responsible whether it was 
right or wrong ; and as to the balance, they claimed the exclusive right to.dt^ide 
as to the propriety of the letting . 

** They persist in adjourning all the jobs for the same day and hour, so that if 
I attend for one case, they can open all and fix the claims of all the contractors. 
It is in vain that I have appealed to the Board to discriminate, and let only the 
needed work be let. Each day of adjournment adds to the number of contracts, 
until they are now piled mountain-high, and the Department is enabled to 
boast that they have thus secured the opposition or the entire contracting 
and dty-laboring interest against me should I be a candidate for re-election. I 
have not faltered or wavered by any regard for these consequences, nor do I 
intend to falter or waver. But what assistance has the Citisens' Association 
afforded in enabling me to stand up in so just a cause against such powerful 
influences f Absolutely none 1 On the contrary, its managers have attacked 
me for not consenting to open some of the bids, when by so doing all toe jobs 
would be fastened upon the City Treasury." 

Now, if even half of the statements we have quoted be true — and we 
have no reason to doubt the correctness of one of them — the 
patriotism and integrity of the Citizens^ Association do not save the city 
very much after all. Kay, we confess that the general conduct of 
the organization rather reminds us of that of the quaok doctors. 
It must be borne in mind with how much virtuous indignation the latter 
denonnce ** the regular Faculty'* as humbugs. Their sympathy for their 
patients — ^the victims of the Faculty — ^is such that they sometimes volun« 
teer to cure them for nothing ; they will only have to pay for the infal- 
lible medicine and enclose stamps for postage. All is done for human- 
ity's sake 1 

Whether the Citizens' Association is actuated by any selfish motive 
or not, it seems to us that if our next Comptroller manages the finances of 
our City and County as well as Mr. Brennan has done, there will not be 
much reason to complain of him ; no spies need be sent to watch hira. We 
have never taken any part in his election, or in the election of any other 
fonotionary ; but had the former permitted himself to be nominated again, 
we certainly would have voted for him, though not on any political 
grounds. We would have done so becau^ he has proved himself an 
honest and manly public ofScer. In oar opinion, his successor would do 
well to retain the services of Mr. Brennan's principal assistants, especially 
the Messrs. Storrs, who, we believe, have occupied their present positions 
for seven years, and discharged their onerous duties to the satisfaction of 
different Comptrollers. We do not allude to this subject because Mr. 
Brennan has ever appointed any one in compliance with our wish ; we 
have never asked him ; nor do we know an individual in his office, fur- 
ther than his oondiict in the discharge of his duties has made him known 
tons. 



193 sciENCR. [December, 

IlluttraUd Catalogue of SnnnriLT & Soire, Manufkotaren of Grand 
Sqnare and Upright Pianofortes. Pamphlet, pp. 40. New York, 1868 

• 

Aifone the many hroohnres whioh have reached oar table daring the 
present season there is not one so saggestive of skill, indastrj, taste, 
melody, and sacoess, as this. It afifbrds as pleasure to examine it, because 
there is nothing pretentions, nothing exaggerated in it. The accnraoy of 
the illnstrations will readily be acknowledged by all who are familiar 
with the different styles of instruments manufactured by the Messrs. 
Steinway ; nor are the facts stated in the letterpress less truthful or less 
undeniable. It is not strange that the most competent judges, both in 
Europe and America, give these gentlemen much more credit for the 
superior excellence of their instruments than they claim themselves. 
This is what we always expect from true merit ; at best, no higher 
talent than mediocrity is boastful or arrogant. 

The honor of having invented the piano has bean claimed by almost 
every country in Europe, but the strongest testimony is undoubtedly in 
favor of Grermany. It appears from the best authorities, not only that 
the first pianos were made by Germans in their own country, but that 
they were also the first to introduce them into other countries. This was 
a subject of waim controversy for more than half a century ; several 
writers on ^e history of musical instruments having sought to vindicate 
the claims of Ohristofaii, an ingenious Florentine. At the same time there 
were Italians, as well as Germans, English, and French, who as vigor- 
ously maintained that the original inventor was Ohristopher Gottlieb 
Schrdter, of Dresden. Thus did the case stand until some papers were 
found, in 1801, in the private cabinet of the King of Saxony, whioh 
prove beyond dispute that Schrdter had presented a model of his in- 
vention to His Majesty in 1717. Even Dr. Bimbault, in his elaborate 
history of the pianoforte, has failed to show that any pianos had been 
made in England before 1766, when some twenty were manufactured in 
London by M. Znmpie, who was also a German. 

It is not well known what was the precise form of these early pianos ; 
but that it was not square is sufficiently evident from the fact that the 
first square piano wae made in 1758 by an organ builder of Saxony named 
Freiderica. The general conclusion arrived at now by those who have 
devoted most attention to the subject is that although instruments re- 
sembling the piano may have been made by an Italian or Frenchman a 
year or two prior to the instrument on which the claim of Schrdter is 
founded, they must have been of so inferior a character as to have been 
soon forgotten or regarded as failures. 

Thus, then, we might as well deny our indebtedness to the Germans 
for Comparative Philology as for the invention of the piano ; but to us it 
appears a much more remarkable fact that not only have the Germans 
invented that beaatiful instrument and oontribated most to bring it to its 



1866.] 8CIINCI. 199 

present state of perfection ; it is also oonoeded hj the most competent 
judges of all nations that thej are the best mannfaotarers at the present 
day. They are the best in England, the best in France, and, we need 
hardly add, the best in this country. Why should we deny the Germans 
a distinction which is cheerfully awarded to them by the French, tlie 
English, and even the Italians ? The writer of this article is not a Ger- 
man ; nor have we ever been a believer in the Anglo-Saxon theory of 
superiority which has been so popular of late years ; on the contrary, we 
have always been opposed to it ; but many of our papers in this journal 
will show that we have not been the less willing on this account to 
appreciate the immense contributions wiiich the Germans have made to 
modern civilization. To none of the master-spirits and benefactors of 
mankind have we devoted more attention than to Kepler, Leihnitz, 
G0the^ Schiller, Klopstock, and Wieland ; we have done so because we 
should despise ourselves if we circumscribed true, merit by latitude or 
longitude, climate or soil. We hold, accordingly, that Americans should 
be just as willing to admit the superiority of the Stelnways as piano 
manufacturers as they are to admit the superiority of Kepler as an 
astronomer. Nor do we believe that any are unwilling to do so except 
those immediately interested, and the thoughtless portion of the public 
who mistake their selfish pretensions for patriotic sentiments. 

Indeed there is sufficient proof of this in tlie princely fortune 
which the Stelnways have made in the city of New York in the brief 
period of fourteen years ; in the several magnificent edifices they hnvA 
built, and in the many gold and silver medals they have received from 
various American institutions that have been founded for the express 
purpose of rewarding superior merit, so as to encourage science, art, skill, 
and industry. Nor is it alone by making superior instraments that tht^ 
Stelnways prove their worthiness of all this. Instead of investing ttieir 
fortune in foreign funds, or in hazardous domestic speculations; they 
devote it to the building of edifices which are at once ornamental* and 
useful to our metropolis. 

Even their manufactory must be regarded as an ornament. None 
who have visited the Central Park have failed to notice the mammoth 
structure that occupies the whole block between Fifty -second' and Fif^y- 
third streets and fronting on the Fourth avenue, for it is seven stories high* 
and its architecture Is a good specimen of the modern Italian. Their ware- 
rooms in East Fourteenth street, with their elegant portico and stately 
columns, strike 'the travelled passer-by as a magnificent palace of white 
marble, which recalls some of the finest of the chief capitals of Europe. 
Then we have the new SteinwayMuslc Hall, which has twafla^eft~-one on 
Fourteeilth street and the other on Fifteenth street, th» fbrnaer extending 
fif^ feet and the latter one hundred f^t---and wbiob has a capacity for 
2,600 seats. 



200 INBUBANCE. [December, 

If any new e^idenoe were necess&rj to prove that no people in the 
world are freer from pr^adice or more ready to appreciate true merit 
let who will posseas it, than the class of Americans whose good opinions 
are worth having, it woald be fonnd in the splendid resolts thns briefly 
alluded to. The patronage of this class enable»the Steinways to carry on 
their business on a scale of imperial magnitude. Since 1858 they have 
manufactured 12,000 pianos; a considerable proportion of these have 
been exported. We have never yet heard either a European or American 
purchaser complain of a Bteinway piano, whereas we have more than a 
hundred times heard both award it the palm of superiority ; a verdict 
which has been fully ratified by as competent and impartial a tribunal as 
any in the world— namely, the Committee of the Great International 
.Exhibition of Ix>ndon in 1862. Yet none of our business men are more 
.modest and unassuming than the gentlemen who by their indvstry, intel- 
iiigenoe, and skill have won such magnificent trophies. 



INSURANCE. 

ShsuroMe BeporU and other Documents for the Quarter ending December^ 

1866. 

The progress of Life Insurance is still on the increase ; whether we 
'regard the immense amount earned by those engaged in it, or the amount 
•of substantial ^ood it does, we find that it surpaq^es all other kinds of 
nnsurance. It is no more than might be expected, therefore, that new life 

• companies are ipringing up almost weekly; and the same remark but 
slightly modified will apply to companies which undertake to insure 

. against accidents to life or limb. At the same time, the public cannot be 
too cautious in dealing with the new brood ; it should rather bear in mind 

.the wonderful ratio^at which petroleum companies increased about two 
years ago, each estimating its capital by millions, and the still more won- 

> derful ratio at which they decreased about a year later, so that not more 
than one out of every ten exists at the present moment ; the presidents, 
vice-presidents, and other high fanetionaries of the defunct corporations 
having condescended to become clerks in dry-goods stores, groceries, and 

• other establishments in which thej could get a "living" price for their 
services I 

It is very true that there is more vitality in life insurance than in 
, petroleum wells, especially in those wells which are too deep, or which 
.never existed save in the imagination of certain thrifty persons. Most 
;j>eople can do very well without having an interest in an oil well, real or 
imaginary ; but all must die, and there are but few who have not friends 
that are dear to them and whom they like to %ecure from want after their 
death ; in other words, there will always be widows and orphans as long 
as the earth endures ; and, bad as poor human nature is, it is to be hoped 



1866.] INSURANCE. 201 

that there will always be husbands and fathers to anticipate their wants. 
This safiSciently aocoants for the increasing popularitj of life insurance-^ 
a popnlarity confined to no class, but which extends through all the in- 
termediate grades of wealth and greatness, as well as of poverty and 
obscurity — from the humble mechanic earning his weekly pittance to the 
emperor on his throne ; for there are few, if any, of the reigning families 
of Europe whose leading members are not numbered among the policy- 
holders of some life insurance company. 

But precisely because the appreciation of life insurance is thus be- 
coming universal, insurance impostors are becoming more and more 
numerous. It is well to remember, also, that occasionally there are those 
who mean quite well, but, nevertheless, do incalculable mischief. With- 
out making any pretension to the gift of prophecy, we venture to predict 
that sooner or later this will be found true of certain insurance function- 
aries who have lately allied themselves to the profession. They have 
lost sight of the fact that at the present day no company can hope to 
succeed whose officers have not experience in the business of underwrit- 
ing; that no business whatever requires more intelligence or more 
knowledge. But how many of our new companies have officers of this 
character ? Nay, let us rather ask, how many of their officers have any 
knowledge at all of life insurance ? and we fear that a large proportion 
of them have not much knowledge of any kind. 

As this is a subject in which the public has a deep interest we shall 
have to speak more pointedly at the beginning of the new year ; we have 
forborne to do so from time to time, although in possession of the facts, 
hoping that improvements might be made — ^that either the directors would 
employ men who had some experience in underwriting, or otherwise dis- 
solve altogether. In any case, we trust we shall say nothmg but what is 
fair, and what we believe to be true. 

Even in the cours^of this article we can adduce new evidence of 
the correctness of our views in cases in which many have read our com- 
ments with incredulity. Thus, for example, we have been predicting for 
four years that certain fire and marine companies boasting of swallowing 
up other companies would soon have to be swallowed up themselves, or 
be permitted to die off altogether, as not worth the swallowing. But 
who can deny the fact any longer ? Let any one examine our articles on 
insurance in a half a dozen of our past numbers, and compare some of our 
remarks on this subject with facts which are now before the public, and 
which we alone had warned the public against. 

There is no mystery in this, however ; the simple reason of it is, not 
that we are any more prophets than our neighbors, but that we investi- 
gate carefully, sometimes make scientific calculations, and, above all 
things^ avoid making thoughtless statements. Thus it is that the parties 
themselves have often wondered at our accuracy, while indignantly pro- 
testing that our criticisms had no foundation. - 



203 IKSVRANCB. [December 

But at present we can do little more than allade, in general terms, to 
the growing importance of life insurance ; we must not, kcwever, forget 
the Insurance Oonyention, one of whose sessions has been held in Hart- 
ford and the other in this city; although we must leave all details to the 
insurance and daily press. For us it must suffice to call the attention of 
our readers to the movement as oae which, if properly carried out, is 
likely to lead to important results. In common with, we believe, all 
who know him, we have much confidence in the intelligence and integrity 
of the gentleman who presided at both sessions, Mr. Benjamin F. Ste- 
vens, President of the New England Mutaal Life Insurance Company. 
We can give our readers no better idea of the objects of the Oonvention 
in an equal amount of space than by quoting the following remarks 
made by Mr. Stevens at the session held in this city : 

" I am willing to do all I can towards securing some uniform syatem of 
legislation. I prefer Mr. Barnes' plan of influencing State legislation through 
a central organisation. I think we have tried to do too much. I hope we may 
have a chamber of life insurance, by which the companies shall secure a uni- 
form system of business and basis of valuation. We have to pay heavily for 
the returns to the various States ; those of Bfassachusetts and New York are 
very onerous. Plain common sense dictates that somethlnjr must be done. 
Again, there are eight or ten companies in the city of New York, and where 
are they to day f We have no class represented here ; we have no cash system, 
no mutual system, in our plan. We have met for counsel, and we want the 
opinions of others. We do not want to adjourn without adopting some prac- 
tical plan of action — some uniform rate of valuation. Each of the great life 
companies has from four to six hundred people to represent it, and I shall do all 
I can to attain some uniform system of insurance. As to the National Bureau, I 
have consulted legal counsel on the matter, and they tell me the constitution- 
ality of the bureau is a question. " 

It must be remembered that Mr. Stevens never indulges in exagger- 
ation of word or action ; his language is always that of moderation, 
because it is the result of calm reflection and thought. The same is true 
of the language of the President of another great company who addressed 
the convention on the same subject. Mr. Franklin, of the New York 
Life, said, with his usual modesty, that he was not yet prepared to ex- 
press any deflnite ideas on the subj'^ct ; from his remarks, as reported 
in one of the journals before us, we extract the following: 

**He was certain of one ihing. We cmnot establish a national bureau. 
A body representing a capital of $75, !)00, 000 would have to overcom) the 
lobby before they could ^et to the legislature. They must also oveix>ome the 
peculiar views of men of the different States, and they mu.t also overcome the 
present prejudice against centralis ition. This cannot be done, and the people 
will consent to no more central izatlon. The question of State rights is en- 
gpaging the minds of our greatest men. All know that under the constitution 
we have a right to these State organizations. Again, the courts have decided 
over and over again that corporations are not citizens ; also, that insurance is 
not commerce. I have come to the conclusion that we cannot carry out the 

Elan of the national bureau, so we must do what we can to correct State legis- 
ition." 

Mr. Morgan, of the North America Life, and Mr. Eadie, of the United 
States Life, were also among the speakers at the convention. Unlike 



1866.] INSURANCE. 203 

Messrs. Stevens and FraokliD, these geatlemea talked a good deal, ex more ; 
an innocent looker-on wonld have supposed that, besides being under- 
writers in some of our greatest companies, thej were directors in more 
than half of the life corporations of the United States. Bat each has to 
rtolj a good deal on this plan ; and no doubt it has sometimes a very good 
effect among that class who do not remember that empty vessels sound 
the loudest. Probably the next thing we shall see is a large advertise- 
ment, in pamphlet form, embodying every remark made at the conven- 
tion by Mr. Morgan, and bearing some such title as *' Morgan on the Insur- 
ance Chamber.'* But if he does publish some such document, it can hardly 
be a grosser burlesque than one of his which is now before us bearing 
the title, ^* Opinions of Underwriters, Actuaries, and the Press, upon the 
new and distinctive features of the North America Life Insurance 
Company." 

It would occupy too much of our time and space to describe this per- 
formance ; suffice it to say that it is in the most vulgar style of the similar 
contrivances of the quack doctors. In his very last Annual Report, Mr. 
Barnes made some remarks which were not ot a character to inflpire 
much confidence in the North America Life ; and we called attention 
to them, in this journal, as but too true, at the same time giving our 
Superintendent the credit due to him for his manliness in telling the 
truth and putting the public on its guard. But we see he has been 
making amends lately. On the back of the Morgan pamphlet before us 
are eztracta from two letters, printed in italics, praising up " your new 
system," and signed " Very respectfully your obedient servant, William 
Barnes,'* &o. We confess we do not think that it is exactly the duty of 
our superintendent to do this sort of thing. How is it that he has changed 
his tone so much in so short a 'time ? If it was necessary to warn the 
public in March last against the modus operandi of Morgan— and we 
think it was — that individual could hardly have become so much 
reformed on the I7th of October last as to render it safe to furnish him a 
quotation for his advertisement informing him that his system "is 
destined to become popular and suocessfol.'' 

Be this as it may, the prominent part taken by^ Morgan at the conven- 
tion has proved a serious drawback ; many respectable underwriters say : 
" We do not like to identify ourselves with that sort of thing.*' There is 
no need for this, however. What if Morgan does strut about at the 
" Chamber" and make speeches as ofben as he can get anyone to listen 
to them ? There are men enough of a different character connected with 
the organization. We have already mentioned two whose names wonld in- 
spire sufficient confidence in any movement with which they would identify 
themselves ; and foremost among the elected directors are underwriters 
like Mr. Freeman, President of the Globe Mutual, and Mr. Batterson, 
President of the Travellers', of Hartford. We are not aware that any of 



804 iNBUBAKCE. [December^ 

the officers of the Knickerbocker or Maahattan occnpy an official po<dtion 
in the Insurance Chamber, bnt both corap&nies have identified themselves 
with it ; so have the ^tna, Phcsnix, etc., of Hartford. 

We do not know that Mr. Lyman, of the Knickerbocker, made any 
speech at either session of the convention ; althoagh we believe he oon- 
oarred in the conclusions arrived at by Messrs. Stevens and Franklin. 
Probably he thought he was talked about sufficiently in the papers of 
late, for there are but few underwriters so modest However, even at the 
risk of giving annoyance to a worthy man, we will relate a characteristic 
occurrence in which he has recently been taking a part ; or rather we 
will allow the Mobile " Evening News'' of October 19, 1866, to do so. 
Omitting some introductory remarks, we quote as follows: 

'* Prior to the breaking out of the war a well known citizen of Mobile had 
insured his life for a series of years in the Knickerbocker Life Insurance Com- 
pany of New York, then and now having an agency in Mobile. He had renewed 
his premium from time to time, but his last renewal expired in March, 1862, 
at a time when the company had no acting agent in Mobile ; and owing to a 
total absence of communication between the company in New York and the 
party insuring, no renewal of the policy was mside, nur any premium paid 
after that date. Some seven months thereafter the gentleman in question 
died, leaving a widow and four children similarly circumstanced with most of 
us in these days of wrecked fortunes and pecuniary distress ; but upon a 
recent application on the part of the widow and guardian of the cnildren to 
that estimable gentleman, Erastus Lyman, Esq., of New York, President of 
the Company, and his Board of Directors, suggesting the fact that the deceased 
husband and father fc wing to an absence of communication) could not have 
renewed the policy which he had previously renewed from year to year, and 
but for this fact would doubtless have renewed it again, Mr. Lyman, on 
behalf of the Company, forwarded to the widow and guardian the original 
amount of the policy (five thousand dollars) less the premium due March, 
1862. On learning these facts I obtained a copy of the letter from the guar- 
dian, acknowledging receipt of the funds, and hand you the same herewiUi 
for publication. Such acts of generous justice and Christian benevolence 
carry their own reward and need no comment, nor the pen need write their 
praise." 

The letter from the guardian is al^o given in the same paper. We 
have only room to remark tliat it overflows with gratitude. This is not 
the first instance of magnanimity to the widow and the orphan we have 
known on the part of Mr. Lyman, and accordingly ^itl always affords us 
pleasure to record evidence of the progress of the institution over which 
he presides. We now see it stated in one of the insurance journals that 
" the Knickerbocker has complied with the laws of Germany and estab- 
lished an agency in Dresden." This is a new proof of the enlightened 
enterprising spirit for which we have given the Knickerbocker credit on 
former occasions. 

Another company whose generous acts we have recorded from time 
to time is the Equitable Life Assurance Society; and we are glad to see that 
our views of it have received a new illustration of which we have been 
reminded by the case of the Knickerbocker. We confess that we take some 
pride in seeing our opinions thus corroborated. The instance we allude 



1866.] iNsmtAKCE. 205 

to at present is noted, as follows, hj the Philadelphia Prs8$, after speaking 
in terms of well*-merited approbation of the Society that has performed 
the noble act : 

*'John Thompson, deceased, has resided in this city m^y years, doing 
business at Spruce street wharf, and for years has been insured in the ' Equita- 
ble ' for the sum of ten thousand dollars. All his premiums were promptly 
paid, excepting the last, which fell due Monday, October 15th, 1866. 

** On Tuesday, October 16th, the agent of the society called at the office of 
Mr. Thompson and learned that he was dangerously ill. Returning, be found 
the son of Mr. Thompson with a check by Mr. Thompson himself, on 
Saturday, October 13th, for tlie amount of premium. Under these circum- 
stances the agent could not receive the premium and thus revive the forfeited 
policy^ without the consent of the society, to whom the facts were at once pre- 
seutell. October 18th, and after the society had been informed of the death of 
Mr. Thompson, J. W. Alexander, Edq., (Secretary, replied as follows: *We 
think it best, under the circumstances, to receive the preminm on Thompson's 
policy, and will not make the failure to pay on the day the premium was due 
a reason for declining to pay the loss. We are certainly not legally bound to 
receive it, but as the parties appear to have acted in good faith, we prefer to 
incur the loss rather than take advantage of their neglect. Please receive the 
premium and issue receipt.' " 

It is companies that act in this way which elicit our approbation : for, 
exemplary as the condact of the officers of the Knickerbocker and Equita- 
ble has been, as thus indicated, it has been no better than that of the offi- 
cers of the New York Life and New England Matnal, to our own personal 
knowledge, and more than once we have taken pleasure in saying so. 

There are some companies whose modes of doing business we have 
commended, and whose progress we have indicated, that have not yet 
had time to perform snoh acts of generosity as those allnded to above 
Bat althoQgh yonng as corporations, their officers, instead of being novices 
are veterans in the profession. This is true, for example, of those'of 
the Globe Mntnal and the National ; there are no more experienced, no 
shrewder underwriters in this conntry than Mr. Pliny Freeman and Mr. 
£. A. Jones. Each graduated in a first-class school — that is, in a company 
where he saw no quibbling; no effort to cheat the widow or the orphan, 
bnt, on the contrary, a cheerful disposition to do what was right, even 
when the law would have Justified it in doing what was morally wrong. 

That both were apt students we have sufficient evidence in the official 
insurance reports. We have not before ns the figures which show how 
well the National has been doing ; but we find in one of the jonrnab 
before as some interesting statistics relative to the Globe. From these 
it appears that the company issued 8,259 new policies daring the 
year ending November 1, 1866, insuring thereby $8,802,707, securing 
an income for the same period of $601,634, and paying claims to the 
amonnt of $81,838. Another important consideration is the ratio of ex- 
pense to income, premiums, and interest ; this ratio with the Globe has 
amounted to less than 22 (21.89). We know no company that had a 
better reoord than this at the same age; a fact which • the stockholders 



206 iNsuiuNCE. [December, 

may appreciate particolarly, for they have got a dividend of fifty per cent 
for last year. 

Daring the last year or two the Manhattan Life has become much 
more spirited than it used to be in former times ; but there is good 
reason for this; it had not until then entirely overcome the inflaence 
produced upon it by Mr. Monran, who, it will be remembered, was its 
President as long as the directors would allow him to occupy that posi- 
tion. Mr. Wemple has been*engaged for three years in ceunteracting the 
mischiet done by Mr. Morgan, and we are glad to know that he has been 
entirely successful. It is pleasant to observe also that the directors 
appreciate the good he has done ; for they have recently promoted him 
to the rank of Vice-president. We hope his salary has been raised in 
proportion, for it is a great mistake that it is the interest of any 
insurance company at the present day to be stingey. By all means we 
should pay but a small price for what is worth little, but it is 
cheaper in the end to pay a high price for what is really valuable; and 
what is more valuable than professional knowledge and experience t Our 
only reason for making this observation is that there may still be some of 
the dregs of Morgan's "cheap and nasty ^' policy in the Manhattan, for we 
do not know what salary Mr. Wemple has ; we have never asked him ; 
nor do we know the salary of Mr. Halsey who worthily succeeds 
him as Secretary. It is a very good thing to keep expenses within 
proper bounds, but we may remark in general terras, without alluding to 
one party more than another, that there is such a thing as being too 
thrifty. 

Uartford casts Boston and Philadelphia far into the shade in life in- 
surauce. Were it not for the New England Mutual, the modern Athena 
would have nothing to boast of in this respect ; but this is one of those 
institutions which can hardly be said to belong to any part in particular 
of the United States. Even all New England cannot claim it; it is as 
much at home in New York and in Philadelphia as it is in Boston. And 
we cheerfully admit that the Traveller's of Hartford is becoming equally 
universal in the sphere of its salutary influence. As an Accident com- 
pany it is absolutely unrivalled. It has done more good during the com- 
paratively brief period of its existence than any similar company in the 
world ; and we see that it is now fully authorized by the Legislature of 
Connecticut to add to its original business that of Life Insurance. Thig 
is as it ought to be ; those who prove themselves at once cora]:ietent, 
honest, and straightforward should be encouraged, if only for the public 
good. 

We are indebted to our intelligent correspondent at Hartford for im- 
portant statistics illustrative of the present condition of all the com- 
panies in that city, but we think it better to defer them for our next 
number; then we shall have the further data furnished by aiinual reports. 



1866.] INSURANCE. 201 

In the roeaDtime we fally agree with our correspondent that ** there are 
Tery bad, as well as verj good companies, in Hartford," and that " the 
pQblic ought to be put on its guard against the pretensions of the former." 
To this we can only add, so far as regards life insurance in Hartford, that 
the ^tna closes the year with an excellent record — one which fully sus- 
tains its well-earned reputation for intelligence, energy, and upright 
dealing. 

Very heavy losses have been sustained of late both by fire and marine 
companies. None haying a solid basis, however, have been seriously in- 
Jared. Among those understood to be paralysed is the Metropolitan (Fire 
and Marine.) We see '' it has announced itsjnecessity for an assessment of 
about 80 percent;'* we are also informed that '' the stockholders are 
necessarily alarmed and dissatisfied.'' This is not strange; but onr 
readers will feel no surprise; for again and again we have warned the 
public in these pages that all was not right in the office of the Metropoli- 
tan. If our remarks in past numbers, including onr last, be now turned 
to, we think they will show that we examine and reflect before making 
statements affecting the character of any company. 

We are sorry to learn that if the International is not in a predicament 
similar to that of the Metropolitan, it is to be feared it soon \i ill. Its 
President is an intelligent and upright business man ; but its Vice-presi- 
dent is a century behind his time ; we always thought him much better 
qualified for a stool at a Woman's Rights conclave than for the vice-chair 
of a fire and marine insurance company. And the Secretary is one of 
those fussy gentlemen who are more uneasy about the business of every 
body else than their own ; he fancies that he is a great writer on insurance, 
and he exercises his talents in writing rhapsodies on that subject in the 
insurance journals, very much in the style of Morgan and Martin. A 
company with officers of this kind may do very well for two or three 
years ; but mere fussiness and pretension, with or without a whining pro- 
pensity, seldom survive this period without causing trouble. 

Of all our marine companies the Mercantile Mutual is the most digni- 
fied as well as the most reliable. There is no paltriness about this ; no effort 
to evade any just claim upon it. No one ever heard its officers whine, 
scold, or quibble, when the owner of a lost vessel called on them to re- 
deem their policy, as we have shown more than once other underwriters 
do, even in the same street. The only question with Messrs. Walter and 
Ne wcomb is : *^ Have the conditions upon which we were to pay been ful- 
filled? " If they are satisfied on this point a check is filled at once, and 
there is no more talk or trouble — not a lugubrious word. 

To fire insurance per $e we can only allude this time, although we 
have some startling facts on the subject among our notes — ^facts which 
show but too plainly how much fire underwriters require to be shrewd 
and cautious. Novices have no chance of success at the present time ; in- 



208 INSUBANCK. [December, 1866.] 

deednone have bat those who combine intelligent)6 withnnreraittingattaD- 
tion to their business. 

Id this, as in other cases^ there are occasional exceptions ; some com- 
panies have become rich in the past withont mnch intelligence or atten- 
tion to basin ess, Jast the same as the illiterate qaack docter sometimes 
succeeds better in making a fortune than the edacated and experienced 
physician. 

In speaking of Intelligent, careful, companies we allude to each as the 
Washington and the Hope ; there are several richer than either of these, 
but, for the reasons mentioned, none are safer ; none are surer to succeed 
in the end let them encounter what obstacles thoj may. We are glad to 
learn that both have been rather fortunate this year ; neither has lost 
much by the Portland fire which has crippled so m loy others ; nor have 
we heard that either has sustained a serious loss anywhere of late. 



^ 



lAi 



CONTENTS OP No. XXVH. 

DECEMBER, 1866. 



SIOLOGT AKI) THE LeSSOXS IT TeACHES. 

IL — Cuba, its Resources anx> Destixy. 

HL — ^Robert Boyle, his Inpluexce on Science and Liberal Ideas. 

IV. — ^FooD AND rrs Preparation. 

V. — ^Hungary, her Literature and her Prospects, 

VT. — ^The Acquisition op Kxowlkdgk Impeded by our Legislators. 
Vn. — Indecent Publications. 
VLLL — ^Education in Congress. 

IX. — Notices and Criticisms. 



49- The postage on tlie National Quarterly Review to any part of the United Slates, is only /our 
€ents per copy, whether paid at the beginning or end of the quarter ; the New York city postage is but 
two ctnlM. All .subscribers pay their own postage. Foreign subscribers, whose copies must be pre- 
paid, have to add the regular rates to their Bub^criptions. 



AGENTS 



The Beview may be had of the following Agents: 

New York. — New York, Sinclair Tousey, General Agent, 121 Nassau street. Rochester, 

D. M. Dewey. Buffalo, J. S. Hawks. Troy, S. T. Hoyt. 
Connecticut — New Haven, J. H. Pease. Hartford, F. A. Brown. 
District of Columbia. — Washington, Taylor & Maury. 
Illinois. — Chicago, John R. Walsh. 
BCkntuoky.— Louisville, J. W. Clarke and P. A. Crimp. 
Maine. — ^Portland, George R. Dennis & Brother. Augusta, Edward Fenno. 
Pennsylvakia.— Philadelphia, James K. Simon, 33 South Sixth street, General A gent for 

Pennsylvania. Pittsburg, Kay & Co. 
British Amkbica — Kingston, C. W., T. W. Robinson. Montreal, B. Dawson & Son. 
Quebec, P. Sinclair. St. Johns, N. B., J. & A. McMillan. Halifax, E. G. Fuller. 
Massachusetts — Boston, A. Williams & Co., General Agents for New England ; W. V. 

Speucer, 134 Washington street.; John J. Dyer & Co., d'i School street. Sprin.^fleld, 

Chapin,.Bird.sever & Co. Tiowell, B. C, Sargent. 



LIFE AND ACCIDENT INSUEANCE. 



th:e orioijj^al 



^xmltx^ §\\mxmtt tfomijaug, 

OF HABTFORO, COIN IV.. 

ACCIDENTS OF ALL KINDS, 

AT LOW RATES OP PREMIUM. 



CASH CAPITAL, 



S500,000, 



WITH SLliPl.rS OF «in<»,iKM>. 
mCT VAHU Ali*<i:T*>, Junv I, 1806 • - • «tT0O.«4l Ol 



M.r;juiMii:i ] ti inMiMi ,1, Mill f'i I ' 1. J I "^1 t u I 1 1 <, iu inn I I [Ml H'. ' 

TTPF AKD ACOIDIMT IMSUEANOE rr 



\ 



nifir^t Arrulent Insurance Company ^^ Ai 



' »'tP BAftTr<^Tfr> ^vn^' tlir t^r*-r *''r 



ditfii 



Premiums Low, and Losses Paid Th AtmitTv 

FnTHc- TrrittrTi TTttl^nrtT ^Vl»r ^f Ai^-rrT'' ♦^f f!l»* * 



JAMES G. BATTERSON. Pres't. 

RODNEY DENNIS, Sec'y 



u^ tiJEtij'y-a / '/^■^/-f/p^/ 4 (/ 




['■/^.[ ^t(,J^r- 



^^^TTTT : y> 






THE 



NATIONAL 



QUARTERLY REVIEW. 



ET)ITR1> BY 



KIDAVARD I, SKAR8, A. M:., LL. X>. 



Vol. XIV. No. XXVIII. March, 1867. 



•• pQlchram est bene fjfcere reSpublicap, ctlam bene dicere baud obenrdum est" 



NEW YORK: 
EDWARD I. SEARS, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. 

6 1 B R O A D W AY . 

QENERAL AGPJirTS. 

New YobK;: AMERICAN NEWS CO., 121 NAsflAr Street. Boston : A. wnx^ - MS &, CO,, 
100 Waahtnoton Street. Phtladelphia : JAMES K. SIMON, S 
Sixth Stkeet. London: TRUBNER & CO., 60 PATERNostER 
Row. Paris : VICTOR ALEXI, 10 Rue Dir Mail. 



1867. 



KvTiBiBMcordlflgto Act of Congress Id. the year 1867 , by Edward I. SBARS.in '^^ Clerk'i Office of the District 
Court of the Unitea States for the Sonthem District of New York. 



STEINWAY & SONS' 

GRAND, SQUARE, AND UPRIGHT 

Hay« takon THncrrnTB First Prkmivms at tho principal fairs held in this country within 
the last ten years, and also were awarded a First Priso Medal at the Great Intematiooa.1 Exhi- 
bition in London, 1862, in competition with 260 pianne froniAU parts of tho world . 

That the groat superiority of these instruments is nc w univerpally conceded Is proven by the 
Jaxi that Messrs. Stoinways' " scales, iniprovcmentsi, and peculiarities of c<Mistructioo " havo 
been copied by the great majority of the manufactarors of both hemispheres (^ cxjukslt as 
oouLD BB DONB wmiouT iXTRixGixo PATBX'T-KiGBn) , and that their fnstruments are uiod by the 
most eminent pianists of Europe and America, who prefer them for their own public and privato 
Qse whenever accessible. 

Every piano is constructed with thoir 

PATEITT AOBAFFE ABKANGEMENT. 
Applied directly to the Fall Iron Frame. 

STEI>rWAT & SONS direct 8pv.>ciul attoutiou to their nowly iuvcnted *^ Uprlsiit '' 
pianos with thoir ^^ Patent Resonator" and double iron frame, pateuu^d june 5, 
1863. This invention consists in providing the instrnmei.t (in addition to the iron frame In 
FKO.VT of the soundboard) with an iron brace frame in the rkar of it, both frames being cast 
in OMB PiscE, thereby imparting a solidity of construciion and capacity of standing in tan« 
nev^r before attained in that class of instrument. 

The Boaiidboard is supported between tho two frames by an apparatus regulating iUi tension, 
BO that thj greatest possible degree of sound -producing capacity is obtained and regulateit to the 
nicest desirable point. 

The great volume and exquisite quality of tone, as wall as elasticity and promptnras of action 
of those new Upright Pianos have elicited the unqualiflod admiration of the musical profession 
And all \<ho luve he ird thorn. 

STEINWAT & SON confidently offer these beautiful Instruments to the public and fBTltn 
«very lover of music to call and examiue them 

Letter from tho celebrated European PianiBt, 

ALEXANDER DREY8CHOCK. 

Court Pianist to the Emperor of Russia. 

9r. PBIBR8BUKO, Septemb«r 28, 1806. 
Mmbbb. STBi:iWAr & Soifs — ^I cannot refrain from expressing to you my undisguised admira- 
tion of your in. eoerif reaped matckUu Grand Pianos (which I oBod at my last conoert in Bruns- 
'Wiek) , and I desire nothing in the world so much as to bo able to perform upon <me of tfaope 
masterpieces hore. Send mo, therefore, (caro> of Johann David Hoerle ft Go. in St. Petersburg) 
one of your Concert Grand Pianos — of course at most moderate artist's pricoF~and inform me 
without delay, in which maooor I can best remit tho purchase money to you. 

Rc'speclfialty yours, 

ALEXANDER DREYSCHOCK. 

Letter from TVillie Pape. 

Court Pianist to tho Royal Family of England. 

LtVNDux, England, February 4, 186«, 
Mrbsrs. Strixwat it Sons — ^I am much pleased to seo tho rapid advances you are making 
and the numerous certlflciteS you hiivo so deservedly obtained. Should my homblo opinion be 
of any weight, you may add that I give my /our hundredlh piano-fm-te recital at Cheltenham 
on the 10th of this month, since my arrival here ; that during my four annual visits to Paris. I 
have usod the Grand Pianos of all the first Euro|)ean manufacture! s, but have found no In* 
strument equal to the one I pureb-ssed of yon. In fact. I consider one of 
your tlaost Sqiure Pianos tMjual to any one of the Grjini Piiujn m\QUfactured hero. 

Truly yours, 

WILUK B PAPK. 
Pianist to H. R. H. the Princess of Wales. 

tfliiaXVfAT & SO.VS' llAMOi are the only American instruments exportod to Earopo la 
large numbers and aetualty used by the great pianists in European concer(-room«. 

TV^RB3 ROOMS, 

First Floor of Steinway Hall, 

71 and 73 East Fourteenth street. 

Between Fourth avenue and Ining plaoe, Hew fork; 



CONTENTS OP NO. XXVIU. 



JCT rum. 

I. Alfieri, his liiFK, Writingb, and Influbkcb 209 

1. Viia di VUtorio Alfieri, aeritta da esso. 

2. Di99ertaziom in lode di Vittorio Alfleri. Sbrafioo Grassl 
8. Biografia di VUtorio Alfieri e deUe sue opere. 

4. Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Alfieri. Written by Himself. 

5. Tragedie di Vittorio Alfieri da Asti, 

6. The Tragedies of Vittorio Alfieri, Translated bjr Charlbs Llotd. 

7. (Euvres dranuUiguts cTAlfieri tradnites en frangais, par Cl. B. 

Pelitot. 

n. Oliver Cromwell, his Character and GovERNMRzrr 244 

1. Beview of the Memoirs of the Protectorate House of Oromwdl 

By William Richards. 

2. CromweH^s Letters and Speeches. Thomas Cahltlb. 
8. History of the Puritans. Nbal. 

4. ^ate Papers. Ci^arendon. 

5. History of the Long PanrHam-nt. Mat. 

in. ThB TEBfFORAL PoWER OF THE POFB 280 

1. Histoire universelle de VESgUse chritienne. Par J. Mattbr. 

4 vols., 4to. 

2. History of the Decline and FaU of the Roman Empire. By 

Edward Gibbon. Edited by Rev. H. H. Milman. 

6 vols 
8. Histoire de la OivUisation en Prance depuis la chute de rShnpire 

Romaine. Par M. Guizor. 
4. Histoire de VEgUse et de V Empire. Par J. Lesubxtr. 

IV. Chattterton and his Works 806 

1. The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton, wUh Notices of 

his Life, History of the Rowley Controversy , ike. 2 vols. 

2. Life of Chatterton. By Dr. Gregory. 

8. Preliminary Dissertation to Rowley Poems. By Dean 

Millbs. 
4. Warton's Inquiry irito the Authenticity of thfi Poems attrHnUed 

to Rowley 

6. Table de la LitUrature au sHzieme Steele. Par M. VHiLEMAiN. 

V. Poisons and Poisoners 887 

1. Elements of Medical Jurisprudence. By Theodbric Rometn 

Beck, M.D., LL.D. 

2. 7}raxU sur le Venin de la Vipere, swr les poison Amerieains, 

sur le laurier cerise et sur quelques atUres poisons. Par 

L'Abbb Fontana. 2 vols., 4to. 
8. Philosophical Transactions from 1810 to 1812. Articles by 

Sir Bbnjamin Collins Brodib. 
4. TraHi de-s poisons tires di r^gnes min^al, vigital §t animal, 

ou teodeologie gSnSrale. 



IV. CONlKXTfiL 

t 

Am. VAOE, 

VI. Nboko Rule in Hatti and the Lessons rr Teaches 359 

1. Present State of Hayti, By J. Franklin. 

2. Eutaire d* Haiti depuis m ducouf)erte jttsq'en. 1834. Par 

ChablesMalo. 

3. Notes on Hayti. By Charles Mackenzie, late English Con- 

Bul-General to that Island. 

4. Bef^dutwna de SainUDominique. Par M. Lacboix. 

VII. The Si}n and its Distance from the Eabth 372 

1. United States Astronomical Expedition to the Southern Hemia- 

phere during the Tears 1849, '50, '51, *52. Vol, m. The 
Solar ParaUax.', By Lieut. J . M. Qilliss, LL.D., Superin- 
tendent Pub. Doc. 

2. Astronomical and Meteorological ObsefvaUons made at the 
• United States Naval Observatory during the Tear 1863. 

By Captain J. M. Gilliss. U. S. N., Superintendent Pub. 
Doc. 

VIII. Insurance, Good, Bad and Indifferent 385 

1. Annual R ports of Insurance Companies for 1S6Q. New York, 

HartfoKl, Boston, and Philadelphia. 

2. Report on the Condition of the Sun Mutual Insurance Com- 

pany, 

IX. Notices and Criticibics 399 

Education 899 

Travds 409 

Belles-LettTes 416 



THE 

NATIONAL QUARTERLY REV1EV\\ 

No. XXVIII. 



MARCH, 188T, 



Art. I.— 1. Vita di ViUorto Alfieri, BcriUa daesso. Milano, 1848. 

2. DUserkaione inlode di ViUorio Alfieri. Serapico Grassl Turin. 

3. Biografia di ViUorio Alfieri e deUe sue opere. Napoli, 1835. 

4. Memoirs of the Life and Wrilinga of Alfieri. Written by 

Himself. 

5. Tragedie di ViUorio Alfieri da Asti, Milano. 

6. The Tragedies of Vittorio Alfieri. Translated by Charles 

Llotd. London. 

7. (Euvree dramatiquea d^Alfieri traduites en frangais, par 

Cim B. Pelitot. Paris. 

There is nO/germ more uncertain in its development than 
that of genius. Perhaps in the majority of instances it lies 
dormant forever. Even those who have immortalized them- 
selves by their intellectual productions have in general real- 
ized the possession of the divine gift only by accfdent. This 
is particularly true of poets. There is scarcely one of the 
first rank who commenced to write poetry until prompted 
by some strong passion. So far as is known, it was the in- 
digiiation of Shakespeare at being arrested for poaching that 
led him to court the muses. Dante, Tasso, Petrarch, Milton, 
Spenser, and a host of others, found their inspiration in love. 
; Most of the other passions have, in turn, served to vivifv 
the germ. Thus, it was pride that made a poet of Alfieri, 
whose life and works will form the subject of the present 
paper. Until actuated by the love of distinction, none ot 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVIII. 1 



210 ALFIERl, HIS UFK, WftinNOS, AND INFLUENCE. [March, 

his contemporaries seemed less poetical than he ; none to 

iiossess less claim to genius ; those most disposed to form a 
avorable estimate of his character regarded his talents as 
below mediocrity. Nine out of ten of those who knew him 
in youth gave him credit for no talent that would ever bene- 
fit himself or others ; nor was his own opinion much more 
favorable until he began to reflect how pleasant it would be 
to gain distinction by the labors of the intellect. At first 
this was but a vague notion ; it does npt appear that he cared 
much how the distinction was to be obtained ; whether as 
an historian, an orator, or a poet. He would like to be a 
Sallust or a Livy, a Cicero or a Cffisar, although he knew but 
little about any of those great thinkers except from hearsay. 
As for poetry, it does not seem that he had any taste for it 
until he became acquainted with French and began to read 
some works in that language merely for pastime. 

He has given us a full account of his life in his Autobiog- 
raphy ; * he haS| indeed, told us many things which it had 
been better he had suppressed. His confessions reveal 
quite as much vice as those of Rousseau, and are far more 
injurious. The reason of this will sufficiently appear as we 
proceed. Vittorio Alfieri was born at Asti, in Piedmont, 
on the 17th of January, 1749 — the same year in which 
Goethe, whom he resembled in more than one feature ot his 
character, also first saw the light. He tells us himself that 
his parents were ''noble, opulent, and wealthy;" but he 
omits to add that both were illiterate, or nearly so. Uis 
father, Antonio, was a nobleman of high rank ; and his 
mother, Monica Maillard di Tournon, was a descendant of a 
highly respectable Savoyard family. The Count was filty- 
five years of age when he married this lady, who, though 
quite young at the time, was the 'widow of the Marquis di 
Cacherano. At the time of Vittorio's birth his father was 
sixty years of age. The child having been entrusted to a 
nurse within two miles of Asti, the fond parent went daily 
on foot to visit him, careless of the state of the weather, 
until, being over-heated on one occasion, he caught cold, 
from which he died in a few days, before the future poet was 
quite a year old. The influence of all these circumstances 
are fully described by Alfieri. " Noble birth," he says " was 
of great service to me in after times, for it enabled me, with- 
out incurring the imputation of base and invidious motives, 

* Vita di Vitt. Alfieri, scritta da easo. 



1867.] ALFISRI, BIB LIFB, WRITINGS, AKD INFLUBKCB. 211 

to disparage nobility for its own sake, to unveil its follies, 
its abuses, and crimes, while its salutary influence prevented 
me from ever dishonoring the noble art I professed." 

Whether it has had this last effect has often been ques- 
tioned ; nor can the question be very satisfactorily answered 
at the present day, except it be admitted that it is not dis- 
honorable to violate the confidence of generous friends — fe- 
male as well as male — sometimes publicly boasting of inflict- 
ing irreparable injury on families who had deserved nothing 
but kindness and good-will. But, without enlarging 
on this point for the present, let us see what be thought 
of his other advantages. ** Opulence," he says, *' made me 
free and incorruptible to serve only truth. The integrity of 
my parents never made me feel ashamed that I was born of 
noble blood. Had either of these things been wanting to 
my birth it would have lessened the virtue of my works, 
and I should probably have been either a poor philosopher 
or a worse man." This shows the spirit in which the auto- 
biography is written ; and it is for this purpose — not for its 
truthfulness — ^we quote it, since far greater geniuses and 
benefactors of mankind than Alfieri have been born in pov- 
erty and obscurity. But if our author is far more egotistic 
and boastful than he is judicious or moral in his account of 
his own life, he is not the less attractive in it to the general 
reader ; for there is no other autobiography of a literary man 
— not excepting that of Rousseau — ^more full of romance 
and at the same time more devoid of all passion, save the 
ruling one of elevating himself above all others, careless 
whom he may ofiend or injure in doing so. 

When about six years old his mother placed him under 
the care of a priest named Don Ivaldi. It is evident, from 
his own account, that the good father treated him kindly 
and faithfully. In the brief period of three years he taught 
him writing and arithmetic, and advanced him in Latin so 
far that he was able to translate Cornelius Ne(K)s and 
Fhssdrus. But what the honest Padre receives for his pains 
at the hands of his pupil is to be handed down to posterity as an 
ignoramus so stupid that had Alfieri remained under his 
tuition any longer the probability was that he would have 
made him an irreclaimable dunce. 

He was not long from under the care of Ivaldi, however, 
when he was seized by that melancholy which, he says, never 
entirely left him afterwards. While laboring under one of its 
attacks, when a mere child, he attempted to commjt suicide. 



213 ALriBRI, HIS UFE, WBITIX03, AKD INFLUENCE. [March, 

He very nearly succeeded in this, for be suffered severely for 
several days ; but he tells us that the severest punishment 
he ever received was to be sent to the neighbor! nnr church 
in his ni^ht cap. This was for telling a lie. Its effect on his 
proud spirit was great and permanent. ** Who knows," he 
says, *^ whether I am not indebted to that blessed night cap 
for having turned out one of the most truthful men I ever 
knew ? " He still continued indolent, however ; he would 
make no progress under any teacher. It is not strange that 
he would throw the blame on any one rather than on 
himself ; he had the same disposition through life. In his 
autobiography he makes every succeeding teacher worse 
than his predecessor. As he was making no proficiency 
under private tutora, his friends placed him at the Turin 
Acarlemy. Here he was put in the third class under the 
tuitiun of Father Degiovanni. This gentleman he describes as 
still more ignorant than Father Ivaldi. '' Being thus an ass,*' 
he says, *' and un<ler an ass, I translated Cornelius Nepos, 
some of Virgil's Eclogues, and such like ; we wrote stupid, 
nonsensical pdems, so that in any well-directed school we 
should have been a wretched fourth class." To this be 
takes care to add, however, that he soon reached the top of 
the class ; then he informs us further : <^ None of us, pro- 
bably not even the master himself, knew who the men were 
whose lives we were translating, nor their countries, nor the 
times in which they lived, nor the government under which 
they flourished, nor even what a government was." 

There are not many of the world's master-spirits who 
would spi^ak of the teachers of their youth in this style, 
even if they deserved it. But Alfieri shows, himself, 
though unintentionally, that his teachers did not deserve 
what he has said against them. Thus he mocks at the 
translations the students had to make, and at the '' stupid " 
nonsensical themes they bad to write ; but because it was 
impossible to make him attend either to the translations or 
the themes, he felt the loss of classical knowledge through 
life ; so that at the age of forty he began to learn in earnest 
those very stupid things which he affected to despise 
so much, not only as a boy, but as an autobiographer whose 
fame was established. He describes his promotion from one 
class to another as rapid, but gives us to understand at the 
same time that his teachers grew more and more stupid. It is 
true that his sketches of his academic experience are some- 
times amusing, although in general they are too bitter and 



1867.*! ALFIKRI, HI9 LIPF, WRITINGS, AND INFLUFNCE. S18 

personal ; sach as to awaken our sympathies for those whom 
tie denounces as ** ignorant, stupid," &c. 

Among the exceptions is his description of the phi- 
losophy class. In this he is not personal ; and it must 
be admitted that if the picture was not true of the 
class in the Turin Academy, there are many classes at 
the presept day — some of which we have seen our- 
selves — which might easily enough identify themselves 
with it. "The school of peripatetic philosophy," he 
says, •* was held after dinner. During the first half-hour we 
wrote out the lecture at the dictation of the professor, and 
in the subsequent three quarters, when he commented upon 
it (Heaven knows how) in Latin, we scholars wrapped our- 
selves up comfortably in our mantles and went to sleep ; and 
among the assembled philosophers not a sound wns heard 
except the drawling voice of the professor, himself half asleep, 
and the various notes of the snorers, who formed u most de- 
lightful concert in every possible key." None would make 
any serious objection to such as this, although there are not 
many worthy men who would reflect in any way on their own 
teachers ; but it is always reprehensible, even in a great poet, 
to mention his teachers by name, long after they are dead, in 
the disrespectful, depreciatory manner in which Alfieri has 
mentioned his. We note the fact, however, as a trait in his 
character ; i*; is not strange that one who would turn his 
wit, if such it can be called, against his old teachers — men 
who are proved to have been as kind to him as his parents — 
would not scruple in after life to bring scandal on those who 
had treated him with friendship ard kindness, without any 
provocation on their part, or any motive on his further than 
his inordinate desire for notoriety or his ambition to be con* 
sidered as superior to all rivals. 

This will be sufficiently understood when it is remem- 
bered that there is no subject on which he is more commu- 
nicative than his intrigues with women ; especially those 
with married women. Far from concealing anything through 
a feeling of delicacy or consideration for the feelings ot 
others, there is no doubt that he grossly exaggerates the 
facts. In his Memoirs he details the particulars of three 
different intrigues with married women, leaving not the 
slightest doubt as to the identity of the parties who had the 
misfortune to confide in his sense of honor or manliness. 
His " first love " he describes as '* a bride of a year, full ot 
natural charms," &c. Lest any one might doubt bis power, he 



214 ALriBRI, BIS UFE, WBITINOS, AKD IKFLUBNOE. [March, 

tells where the lady lived, and then proceeds to give par- 
ticulars as follows: ''But my Holland felicity did not last 
long. The hasband of ray mistress was very opulent, and his 
father had been governor of Batavia. He frequently changed 
his residence, and having recently purchased a baronial 
estate in England, he was going there fco pass the autumn. 
In August he made a trip to Spa with his wife ; and, as he 
was not very jealous, I followed them." An intrigue of his 
with an English lady he describes still more plainly, if pos- 
sible, although it brought him into such disgrace that he 
had to leave England on account of it. In speaking with the 
utmost composure of the deplorable consequences of this 
intrigue to the lady and her family, he admits that he was 
the occasion of them, *^ though innocently ; " that is, because 
a great poet and born of noble and opulent parents he 
could not be supposed to be aware thai there was any harm 
in his having an intrigue with a manied woman. Instead 
of its being a degradation to the lady, the public should have 
considered it an honor to her ! 

It may seem incredible that even so proud and vain a 
man as Alfieri could have entertained such thoughts. 
But be it remembered that he gravely informs the world in his 
autobiography that the sister of the adulteress had assisted 
her in carrying on the intrigue, and that the father paid a visit 
to his daughter to congratulate her on having made a choice 
worthy of herself. All belonging to the lady were thus dis- 
graced, with the exception of the husband, who acted in so 
manly and generous a manner as fully to have vindicated 
himself and wiped out the stain on his honor. He challenged 
Alfieri on his avowing his guilt, and a fight ensued. Alfieri 
boasts that he accepted the challenge at once, and that when 
they went to the field he put himself on his guard and rushed 
on the husband like a madman, wishing, he says, to die at 
his hands. But the journals of the day give a very difierent 
account of the afiair. What they tell us is that Alfieri did 
his best to kill the man whom he had already so grievously 
injured ;* that he rushed upon him with the utmost impetu- 
osity, while the husband concented himself with parrying his 

^ That his temper was yery bad is beyond question. The remark Just made 
in the text reminds ns of his brutal condact towards his faithful serViUit. While 
Elias was oomblug his hair he happened to give him a little pain, upon which, 
without saying a word, he seized a candlestick and felled him to the ground, 
leaving a huge wound in his temple ; and then, on his offering to make some 
^resistance, he drew his sword to dispatch him. 



186*7.] ALFIKRI, HIS UFE, WRITINGS, AND INrLUENCB* S15 

thrusts, bat finally made a thrust in return, which having 
slightly wounded Alfieri in the arm, the former lowered the 
point of his sword, declaring that he was satisfied, when all 
who witnessed the fight agreed that he could have stabbed 
him to the heart.* Alfieri boasted, however, as usual ; pro- 
claiming how the lady assured him that the happiness of 
always living with him would amply repay her for the loss of 
her character. But while thus exulting in what he called 
his double conquest, it transpired that he had another rival ; 
the lady herself confessing that she had previously had an 
intimacy with her husband's groom ! 

It is not necessary to proceed any further in this direc- 
tion in order to be able to form an estimate of Alfieri's sense 
of honor. But the facts just stated show more than this; 
they must be regarded as the results of his early train- 
ing. But it is not his teachers we must blame for this, 
but his own relatives, with whom it was a favorite adage 
that *^ a gentleman had no need of being a doctor " — that is, 
no need to be educated. Naturally indolent, irascible, 
and disobedient, lessons like these were well calculated 
to render him averse to study ; and those who remain igno- 
rant under such circumstances are very apt to throw the 
blame on their teachers; whereas it is impossible for the 
latter, no matter how learned, experienced, and conscientious, 
to make any one intelligent who not only refuses to study, 
but mocks them to their face and is thought witty and clever 
by his friends for doing so. This was the case with Alfieri. 
Translating ancientauthors, writing essays, di scussing phil- 
osophical subjects, seemed to him very absurd, stupid thmgs. 
He could not be induced to pay attention to them, as greater 
geniuses than he had done. It is by the very same system which 
he laughed at as too puerile for him that the minds of Dante, 
Tasso, Ariosto, and Michael Angelo had been trained, as well 
as those of the greatest philosophers and discoverers of 
modern times, including Copernicus and Kepler, Bacon and 
Newton ; and if all had their faults as men, they all learned 
at least how to draw a veil over what was offensive to pub- 
lic decency and injurious to public morals. Even Bacon, 
though called the '' meanest '' as well as '* the wisest " of 
mankind, never exulted in his misdeeds ; if it be true that 

*Tha6 it was that Alfieri was first known to the English public as a defend- 
ant in a case of crim. con. The verdict w<is in fuvor of the husband. Ho 
wanted no more. He required no damages, and therefore Alfieri had only to 
pay some costs. 



S16 ALFIERI, HIS UFB, WBRIKOB, AND IVFLUBMOI. [March, 

he was vicious himself, it is equally true that he has noi* 
formly taught others to be virtuous. 

But it was not alone in his boyhood that Alfieri set his 
instructors at defiance. For this we have bis own admission. 
With a singular perversity he boasted of it to his latest 
breath. True, there would not be much use in his denying 
it, for his conduct is fully described in the records of every 
institution he belonged to. Most disobedient, disorderly 
students become ashamed of their conduct as they approach 
manhood; but all agree that the course of Alfieri was the 
reverse of this ; and he corroborates the fact himself. ^* Hav- 
ing 'buried my uncle," he says, ** changed my guardian into 
a curator, obtained my Master's degree, got rid of my attend- 
ant Andrea, and mounted a steed, it is incredible how proud 
I became. I told the authorities plainly that I was sick of 
studying law, and that I would not go on with it. After a con- 
sultation they determined to remove me into the first depart- 
ment, which I entered on the 8th of May, 1763." 

It is almost superfluous to remark that Alfieri was not en- 
titled to the degree of Master to which he thus refers; but 
degrees have been conferred in all countries and ages in which 
, there are colleges or universities under similar circumstances ; 
they are conferred at the present day. It is well known by 
all who have devoted any attention to the subject that 
degrees are conferred at Cambridge and Oxford on the sons 
of the nobility without their being qualified by *' learning 
and ability " for that honor ; although Alfieri does not seem 
to have been aware of the fact, when writing his autobiog- 
raphy, since he refers to his degree more than once as a 
reflection on the institutions and professors of his own 
country. The result of the consultation recorded in the 
paragraph just quoted is substantially the same as to have de- 
dded.on mature deliberation,that Alfieri was incorrigible; that 
there was no use in trying to give him that regular, syste- 
matic training which, however much it may be sneered at by 
the idle and thoughtless, is essential to a good education. 
Accordingly we are told that he now led an extremely idle 
life. Nor was he merely idle. He soon began to conduct him- 
self so badly that the authorities of the institution found it 
necessary to place him under arrest, and he remained for 
some months a prisoner in his own apartment. Such was his 
pride, or rather his arrogant stubbornness, that he preferred 
to continue in this degraded state rather than make any 
apology for his persistent disobedience and general miscon- 



1867.] Auntm, his livb, wbitingb, and ivi'luevcb. 211 

doct. He thought the rank and opulence of which he boasts 
•o much a sufficient excuse for all. He did not find the pro- 
fessors as pliable as he thought, however, for they refused 
all overtures for his release until they had a decent oppor- 
tunity of doing 80. This they found in the occasion of the 
marriage of his sister Qiulia to the Count Giacinti di Cur- 
niana, in May, 1 764. He was then let loose ns a person who 
had been too much spoiled by his wealthy friends to render 
it possible to make anything good of him, and whom, accord- 
ingly, it was well to get rid of. Having now command of a 
large portion of his fortune, he soon drew around him a class 
of young men who do not seem to have been much better 
than the companions of Catalina as described by Sallust. 
With his new associates, who flattered him to the full extent 
ot his d.'sires, he indulged in dissipations of every kind. Now 
commenced that passion for horses which formed a striking 
feature in his character through life. This is included among 
his faults; but had it not been for the manner in which he 
treated those noble animals it ought rather to have been re- 
garded as a redeeming virtue. Before the end of the year he 
had eight horses — the best he could get. His companions 
could use thef'eas freely as himself. It was a favorite amuse- 
ment with all to drive as fast as possible down hill ; and if one 
broke the horse's foot or his neck the sport was all the greater. 
The transition from conduct like this to falling in love 
was perhaps natural enough. At all events, Alfieri did fall 
in love ; but, as usual, it was with a married woman — the 
wife, we are told of an elder brother of some intimate friends 
of his to whom lie was on a visit ; but, fortunately for the 
lady and fur all to whom she was dear, his overtures were 
treated as they deservtd — he was told never to show his 
face in the bouse again. His becoming a military man 
seemed a transition equally natural ; although be only got 
the appointment of ensign in a provincial regiment which 
met but twice a year. But even the restraint of this was 
too much for him. *^ I could not adapt myself," he says, 
**to that chain of graduated dependence which is called 
subordination, and which, although the soul of military dis- 
cipline, could never be the soul of a future tragic poet.'^ 
This would show by itself what a difficult task was that of 
his teachers ; but it also shows that the extent of his infor- 
mation was not very great even when he wrote his autobiog- 
raphy. Almost any boy educated in the way that he con- 
sidered so stupid and absurd could have told him that far 



218 ALFIBRI, HIS LIFE, WRITENOS, AND INFLUENCE. [March, 

greater tragic poets than he, high as hU merits undoubtedly 
are, bad submitted to ** that chain of graduated dependence," 
since both ^schylus and Sophocles served their coun- 
try as soldiers, and none were more obedient to those placed 
above them — none complied more cheerfully with the rules 
of the army in which they served. 

On withdrawing from his regiment — doubtless without 
being much regretted by his military brethren — Alfieri goes 
to travel. In his travels also he everywhere shows that his 
mind is utterly untrained ; and here again it is easy to see 
that the fault was his own, or that of his friends who encour- 
aged him in his disobedience to his teachers and his contempt 
of all '' rules and regulations." Daring the first two or three 
monihs of his travels he was accompanied by two of his fel- 
low-students of the Academy of Turin, the three being under 
the care of the same tutor. They were persons who had not 
regarded translating and writing essays as mere drudgery too 
absurd and stupid to be tolerated ; and they also proved to be 
persons who knew how to appreciate what they saw, and — 
what was perhaps better — 'lovvto conduct themselves like 
gentlemen, which was far from being the case with Alfieri. 
Indeed, the contrast was so great and obvious in these respects 
that he soon parted with them in a fit cf anger. But it is suffi- 
cient to note what he says of himself in order to underst^ind 
how much wrong he had done himself while at the Academy. 
He tells us that, on visiting the Ambrosian Library at Milan, 
the librarian placed in his hands a manuscript of Petrarch ; 
"but," he says, "like a true Goth, I threw it aside, saying 
that it was nothing to me. The fact was, I had a certain 
spite airainst the aforesaid Petrarch ; for, having met with a 
copy of his works some years before when I was a philoso- 

Fher, I found, on opening it at various places by chance, that 
could not u nderstand the reading in the least ; accordingly 
I joined with the French and other ignorant pretenders iu con- 
demning him, and as I considered him a dull and prosy writer 
I treated his invaluable manuscript in the manner above de- 
scribed." 

After Milan he visited Florence, Rome, and Naples; 
but he had now grown so tired of his tutor that he applied to 
the authorities of Piedmont for permission to dismiss him. 
It is worthy of remark that the English journals of the time 
were very much pleased with the depreciatory account he 
gave of his Italian teachers, especially of the priests already 
mentioned. In this they were sure he was right; his genius, 



1867.] ALFIBRIy HIS UFE, WRITINGS, AND INFLUENCE. 219 

they thought, enabled him to see how ignorant they were 
and how absurd was their system of teaching. We are 
reminded of this by the fact that the tutor whom he took 
these pains to get rid of was an Englishman — one whose 
system of teaching was entirely diSorent from that of Ivaldi 
or Degiovanni. But Aifieri discovered that he, too, was an 
ignoramus ; his real fault was, however, that, like the Padres^ 
he had certain notions about propriety and decency, as well as 
the importance of education. That is, he also was ^'antiquated" 
in his views ; far too much so for one bom a noble and who 
was destined to be the greatest tragic poet of modern times. 
At least this is Alfieri's own explanation. Now, when he 
has neither tutor nor fellow-student with him — nobody but 
his faithful servant Elias — he feels under no restraint, and, ac- 
cordingly, whenever mischief is to be done he tries to have a 
hand in it. He first visits France, England, and Holland, in 
turn, then Denmark, Sweden, and Russia. He gives his 
views of each in his autobiography, but they are rarely 
correct or just. He speaks of every country and people 
according as they seem to fall in with his own peculiar 
notions of morality, liberty, &c. . He admits himself that 
from none did he learn so much as from the French. He 
knew their language much better than his own ; it was in it 
he wrote, as well as spoke, almost exclusively at this time; 
whatever he knew of literature was from French works ; 
yet he never ceased to abuse the French. According to him, 
they were mean, stupid, pretentious, ignorant — even Paris 
was but a contemptible place in his eyes. In giving an 
account of his first visit to the Gay Capital, he tells us that 
*^ never in his life did he experience more disagreeable feel- 
ings than on entering the damp and dirty suburb of Saint 
Germain !" •* What inconsiderate haste," he says, " what 
mad folly has led me into this sink of filth and nustiness !" 
On entering the inn I felt myself thoroughly unde- 
ceived ; and I should certainly have set off again immediately 
had not shame and fatigue withheld me. My illusions were 
still further dissipated when I began to ramble through 
Paris. 1 ne mean and wretched buildings ; the contemptible 
ostentation displayed in a few houses dignified with the 
pompous appellation of hotels and palaces; the filthlness of 
the Gothic churches ; the truly Vandal-like construction of 
the public theatres, besides innumerable other disagreeable 
objects, of which not the least disgusting to me was the 
plastered countenances of many very ugly women, &c.'* 



220 ALFIERI, HTS UFE, WRITIVOB, AND IXFLUENCB. [Marcb, 

Louis XV kindlypermittedAIfieri to be presented to him at 
Versailles ; but because the King does not recognize him as oF 
noble blood and carry on afiamiliar conversation with one he had 
never seen before, and whose reputation was none of the best, 
while many others wait to be also presented, he is angrily 
condemned as •' supercilious," &c. " It was," he says, *' as 
if somebody said to a giant, * I beg to present an ant to you/ 
and he were either to stare, or to smile, or to say, it may 
be, • Oh, what a little creature!' " While there is little doubt 
that Alfieri really hated the French, it is remarkable that he 
preferred residing amongst them rather than amongst any 
other people, although few would think so from his language. 
As soon as he could, he made Paris his regular residence, and 
remained there until the breaking out of the revolution. He 
was an eye-witness of the terrible events of the 10th of Au- 
gust, when the Tuileries was taken by the mob after a 
bloody conflict. Seeing now that it would be dangerous to 
remain any longer, he hastily procured passports and started 
with his mistress on the ISth of the same month. In pass- 
ing the barriers he had a narrow escape from being brought 
back and, perhaps, massacred by a mob of the lowest order. 

Soon after he reached Florence he learned that his books 
had been seized and confiscateii. This gave a new 
impulse to his hatred against the French, and prompted 
him to write his Misosallo^ a miscellaneous collection 
in prose and verse, consisting of the* most indiscriminate 
and violent abuse of everything French. This is in such 
execrable taste, although it contains some striking passages, 
that it has been but little read.* It is but justice to 
the French to say that, whatever wrong they Ijad done 
Alfieri, they evinced every disposition to make amends to 
him for it. The only complaint he had against them per- 
sonally was that the revolutionary government had seized 
on his books, as already stated ; but, whatever excesses that 
government had committed, it was not altogether without 
provocation that it had done this, for his very first produc- 
tion after reaching Florence was an Apology lor Louis XVI. 
Soon after, however, M. Ginguen^, the embassador of the 
French Republic at the Court of Turin — who was himsell 

* Ce recueil, says M. de Latour, intitule MiMagado^ commence en li90 
aclieve en 1798 (a I'^poque oil les Frangais, npres ]« truitd dc Cainpo Formio, 
eiitr^rcnt & Home et enlev^rent le pape de sa capitale), est piein de mattvaisgoflt 
et de plaiimUeriet grotiiirea ; mais un y trouve aussi de I'ongtualil^, de Tenergie, 
et, de temps en temps, d'admirables mouyementa d'indigouition.— Jft^nuirM 



1867.] ALFIEiU, HIS LIFR, WiJTlXOS, AND IKFLUENQE. 221 

a distinguished littiraUur — wrote him a polite note offering 
his services for recovering the lost books ; but he de- 
clined the offer with his usual rudeness. A year or two 
later (L800) when the French occupiel Florence, another 
friendly overture was made to Al fieri by the general in 
command. He replied haughtily, but much more civilly, than 
he had to the Ambassador : 

*'If the general, in hU offioial oapacltj, oommands hU presence, 
Victor Alfiert, who never resists oonstitnted anthority of any kind, will 
iiuined lately hasten to obey the order ; bat if, on the contrary, he 
requests an interview only as a private individual, Alfieri beg<f leave to 
observe that, being of a very retired tarn of mind, lie wishes not to form 
any new acqaaintance. and therefore entraats the French general to hold 
Lim excused.*' 

It is sufficiently evident from these facts, which we have 
grouped without regard to the order of time, what the feel- 
ings of Alfieri were towards the French. But in proportion 
as he bated and despised France, he admired England. Every- 
thing in the latter country seemed to him beautiful and 
praiseworthy ; but his praise of the English is as indiscrim- 
inate as his abuse of the French. '' The roads," he says, 
** the inns, the horses, and, above all, the incessant bustle in 
the suburbs, as well as in the capital — all conspired to fill 
my mind with delight." Byron and other Englishmen, who 
had travelled as much ashe,pertinently ask,in commenting on 
this eulogy of everything English, where must his eyes have 
been ; and he has been criticised still more severely for say- 
ing that the happy, glorious state of England made him 
''ashamed of being an Italian," and ^ed him to wish '* not to 
possess anything in common with this nation " (Italy). 

Mostofour readers will remember how different wastheesti- 
mate of Heine;* his views were the very opposite of those 
of Alfieri. To the former everything English was as hateful 
as everything French was to the latter. But the English had 
no such claims on Heine as the French had on Alfieri. The 
German had, indeed, read a few English books, through the 
medium of translations ; but tht3 Italian scarcely read any 
books but French, and seldom spoke any other language for 
nearly a quarter of a century. Even his tragedies are chiefly 
modelled on the French, as we shall see more particularly 
as we proceed, whereas he scarcely knew anything of Eng- 
lish literature. It may be doubted whether he ever read one 

o See National Quarterly Review, No. xxv., Art. <* Heine." 



222 ALFIKRI, HIS UFE, WRITINGS, AND INFLUENCE. [March, 

of Shakespeare's dramas from beginning to end. Then, if we 
compare the two poets together, it will be seen that no two ever 
differed more as critics ; but the difference was this: Heine 
was a trained, experienced critic— one employed as such from 
year to year by different journals of the first class ; where- 
as Alfieri was really no critic ; he wanted culture ; his 
powers of observation were exceedingly slight ; he could 
hardly be said to have any perception of the ridiculous. 

There is abundant proof of this in his writings ; his Muogallo 
is a collection of coarse, abusive caricatures, not satires wor- 
thy of the name ; accordingly they have scarcely ever been 
read except by a certain class of Englishmen who would 
relish anything at that time which depreciated the French. 
The cultivated and enlightened class utterly refused to admit 
them into their families, for Alfieri detested the French so much 
that he had a large edition of the Antigallican published for 
free distribution among the gentry of England as well as 
those of his own country. Heine, upon the other hand, had 
no need to make any such sacrifice ; for his Reisebilder 
(Pictures of Travel) was read everywhere, from one end of 
Europe to the other. Not only did it secure him renown at 
once, at home and abroad, as a satirist, but also established 
his fame as a poet. We do not think he was right in every- 
thing he said against the English or in favor of the French. 
In each case his prejudices led him too far; but when he 
indulges in most exaggeration he keeps reason and common 
sense in view, which is much more than can be said of 
Alfieri in regard to bis satires. It is worthy of remark that, 
persistently as Alfieri has abused the French, his tragedies 
have been more popular among them than among any 
other people, not excepting the English ; and the French are 
also his best critics; it is they who have done most to 
extend and perpetuate his fame as a tragic poet.* 

In short, Alfieri had been several years travelling before he 
capable of turning what he saw to any useful account; he was 
was not capable of doing so until he turned his attention to 
what he neglected in his youth ; that is, until he began to 
study. For the first three or four years after leaving home, 
far from studying himself, he sneered at those who did, as 
pedants. Until he learned sense enough to see the folly of 

o There are several tronslaUons of his tragediefi in the French language. The 
principal are those of Pelitot, 4 vols.. 8vo ; Tn>gnon. 5 v61b, ISmo ; De Latoar, 
4 vols., 12mo. And among his French critics are Sismondi, Qinguen^, Hme. 
deSta^l, ViUemain, Chasles, &c. 



1867.] ALFIBRI, HIS UFE, WBITINaS, AND INFLUENCE. 223 

this, it was in vain that he visited great libraries, art gal- 
leries, botanical gardens, &c. ; of this he gives several illus- 
trations himself in his autobiography ; but one will suffice 
for our present purpose. ** I nnight easily," he says, *' dur- 
ing my stay at Vienna, have been introduced to the cele- 
brated poet Metastasio, at whose house our minister, the old 
and respectable Count Canale, passed bis evenings in a select 
company of men of letters, whose chief amusement consisted 
in reading portions from the Greek, Latin, and Italian 
classics. Having taken an affection for me, he wished, oat of 
pity to my idleness, to conduct me thither. But I declined 
accompanying him, either from my usual awkwardness or 
from the contempt which the constant habit of reading 
French works had given me for Italian productions. Hence 
I concluded that this assemblage of men of letters with their 
classics could be only a dismal company of pedants." 

Thus wesee that hehad still the same notions which he had 
when at the Academy of Turin — that is, he regarded the 
reading and discussing of the classics as a sort of superstition 
which, however it might do for plebeians and stupid people 
in general, was altogether unsuitable for a young nobleman, 
especially for one who, like Alfieri, bad genius. Until he 
changed his mind, however, all his pride and pretensions 
could effect nothing for him, but subject him to disappoint- 
ment and mortification. It was not until he went to Lisbon 
in 1774, and formed the acquaintance of the amiable and 
learned Abb6 di Caluso that he took any serious thought of 
study. The Abb6 had the perception to see that he was 
naturally brilliant, and did all he could to draw him away 
gradually from his habits of idleness and dissipation, and 
give him a taste for nobler pursuits. Although he was but 

!>artially successful in the bei^inning and soon had reason to 
ear that his prot^g^ would relapse hopelessly into his old 
habits, his influence and example had in time the desired 
effect. 

There is nothing more agreeable in Alfieri's autobiogra- 
phy than the account he gives of what he owed to the good 
Ahh6 : ** It was one of those dulcet evenings," he says, 
*Uhat I felt in my inmost heart and soul a true Phoebian 
impulse of enthusiastic ravishment for the art of poetry ; it 
was, however, only a brief flame, which was immediately 
extinguished and slept under the ashes many a long year 
afterwards. The kind and worthy Abb6 was reading to me 
that magnificent ode to Fortune by Guido*-a poet of whom 



224 ALTiSBiy HIS UT%, WBinKas, AND ixFLUSNCB. [March, 

I had never heard even the name before that day. Some 
stanzas of that canzone, and especially the very beautiful 
one on Pompey, transported me to such an indescribable de- 
gree ; that the good Abb^ persuaded himself and told me 
that I was bound to make verses, and that by studying I 
should succeed in making very good ones. But when that 
momentary excitement passed away, finding all the powers 
of my mind so rusted, I did not believe the thing would ever 
be possible, and thought no more about it." The seed thus 
sown, however, was not destined to perish. Returning in 
1775 to Turin, his first care was to take a house and form a 
literary society — ^the members of which consisted chiefly of 
his former fellow-students at the Academy. The rule was 
that all should deposit their essays and other compositions 
in a box, which was opened once a week and its contents 
read by the President.. Influenced by the encouragement 
of the Abb^ di Caluso, Alfieri contributed several pieces, 
which were well received, the principal of which was a 
scene in the Last Judgment. This elicited great applause, 
although none but the author knew who wrote it. This 
convinced Alfieri that the Ahh6 was right, and led him to 
hope that he would one day attain distinction as a writer. 
But he had great obstacles to encounter. Not only was be 
utterly without culture ; he was incapable of writing even a 
correct letter in his own language. Now he commenced to 
study in earnest; but bis first attempt at tragedy was 
purely accidental. 

At this time he was engaged in an intrigue still more 
disgraceful than usual ; the lady was of high rank but of bad 
character and some ten years his senior. He was anxious to 
study, but her influence over him was such that he found it 
impossible to do so to any extent. In order to remedy this 
state of things, he caused his servant to tie him ev^'ry morn- 
ing to his arm-chair, so that he could not leave his study. 
In order to relieve himself from the ennui of this situation, he 
wrote a sonnet, and sent it to Father Paciaudi for his opin- 
ion. The priest was quite pleased with it, and sent 
him a tragedy by Cardinal Delfino entitled Cleopatra. Alfieri 
thought he discovered a strung resemblance between his 
own case and that of Mark Antony ; and he at once resolved 
to treat the same subject. He tells us that he wrote some 
scenes at random without knowing whether he should call 
them tragedy or comedy. The first effect of this work was 
to cure him completely of his unworthy passion. On tne 



186T.] AUriERIy HIS Lin, WRmNOS, and LNIXirKNOB. 226 

lady's recoveryi he laid the manuscript under the cushion 
of her pillow and forgot it for twelve months. When 
breaking off all further intercourse with this woman he 
happened to remember the fragment ; he took it up and, 
glancing over it, hastily said to himself: ** This is not so bad ; 
it must be finished." The result is suflSciently known. *' No 
sooner," he says, " had this idea passed through my mind 
than, forgetting my mistress, I began to scribble, to alter, to 
read, aod re-alter, and, in short, to become a fool in another 
manner, for this unfortunate Cleopatra, born under such 
unhappy auspices." The criticisms which he thought so 
pedantic and useless as a student of the Academy he now 
solicited earnestly. Every frieud who visited him had to 
give his opinion, and make any such suggestions as occurred 
to him. 

Thus did he labor with indefatigable zeal for several 
weeks until the play was completed. In order to disarm the 
criticism of the public, he wrote an afterpiece entitled *' The 
Poets," in which he satirized his own tragedy. Both were 
performed at Turin June t6, 1775, and were repeated the 
following night. •* From that moment," he says, " a devour- 
ing fire took possession of my soul. I thirsted to become 
a deserving candidate for theatrical fame. The passion of 
love never inspired me with such lively transports." But 
the more he wrote the more certain he became that he must 
either persevere in his studies or fail in his attempts to secure 
a permanent reputation as an author. Now he sees how un- 
wise both his friends and himself were in his youth in regard 
to his education, although he still gives as little credit to 
others, and as much to himself, as possible. The great change 
produced in his mind by his intercourse with educated men 
he proclaims as follows : <* At length a powerful voice arose 
from the bottom ofmy heart, which cried more energetically 
than that ofmy few friends : < It is necessary to retrace your 
steps in order to study grammar and the art of composition.* 
In conformity with this divine and powerful admonition I at 
length submitted to thehardneceaity of recommencing the studies 
of my infancy at an age when I thought and felt like a man. 
But the flame of glory shone in my eyes, and, resolving to 
wipe away the shame of my deplorable ignorance, I assumed 
sufficient courage to combat and overcome every obstacle 
which opposed my progress." 

Before it had been decided upon to put Cleopatra on the 
stage he had written two other tragedies, Philip II and 

VOL. xrv. — NO. xzviu. 2 



226 ALiiKBiy Hiii uw%, WBmvQB, AMD IKFLUENOK. [March, 

Polinioesy but conscious of his ignorance of his tiatire 
language, he wrote both in French prose with the intention 
of translating them into Italian verse as soon as he found 
himself capable of doing so, and felt satisfied that they were 
worth the trouble. With this view, he read them in pri- 
vate, in their rough state, to his literary, friends^ and was 
deliffhted with their evident effects. Those on whose advice 
he depended most were Father Paciaudi and Count Tana, 
who advised him to translate them first into Italian prose. 
Having done this as well as he could, they taught him to 
weed out the French idioms and phrases with which his 
Italian was corrupted. This was perhaps the second time in 
his life that he was grateful for instruction and literary assist- 
ance ; these good, kind men aided him so much, he declared 
that if ever he should be deemed worthy to rank as a poet 
he ought to subjoin to that title, '* By the grace of God, of 
Count Tana, and of Father Paciaudi." He did not confine 
himself, however, to the instructions which his friends were 
willing to give him. At the age of thirty he employed a Latin 
tutor, and performed all the exercises a^ which he sneered 
when a boy. When his teacher examined him, he could not 
understand a passage in Virgil ; after one year's patient and 
careful study, he could read almost any Latin author with 
tolerable facility. In the mean time he bad been an inde^ 
fiitigable student of Dante, whom he greatly admired in proper* 
tion as he could understand him, and he had gone to Tuscany 
with the view of chastening his style by learning the pure 
dialect of that country. 

But almost constantly as he studied now-cleaving 
himself but little time for resreation — he was destin^ 
to fall in love once more; and now, too, the object of 
his passion was a married womaa-'*no less a personage than 
the wife of Charles Edward Stuart, the lawful heir to the 
British crown, known as the Pretender. The exiled prince 
was much older than his wife ; and it is said that disap- 
pointment and misfortune had so embittered his mind 
that be was a very disagreeable husband. His wife 
was the beautiful Duchess of Albany, a daughter of 
the princely house of Stolberg. She was, in a word, 
just the sort of person that Alfieri was most anxious to 
meet at this time, when his literary tastes had improved 
.so much. Those acquainted with his character would 
readily believe this from his description of the lady. *« The 
sweet fire," he says» ** of her very diu*k eyes, added (a 






1867.] ALFina, b» uwe^ wsmNdfl, akd urFLUCMCi, 33T 

thing of rare occurrence) to a very white skin' and fair hair, 
gave an irresistible brilliancy to her beauty. She was 
twenty-five years of age, was* much attached to literature 
and the fine arts, had an angelic temper, and, in spite of her 
wealth, was in the most painful domestic circumstances, so 
that she could not be as happy as she deserved. How many 
reasons for loving her ! *' In short, there was none like her 
now. According to his language she wanted nothing in body 
or mind. And in proportion as he elevated her thus he 
lowered the objects of his former passions. ** This fourth 
and last passion," he says, ^'manifested itself by very difierent 
symptoms from the others. In the three former the mind 
had no ihare; in the present instance a sentiment of esteem, 
mingling with love, rendered the passion, if less impetuous, 
more durable and profound. Far from impeding my prog- 
ress in useful knowledge, like the frivolous women with, 
whom I was formerly enamored,* the object of this attach- 
ment urged me on by her examples, by everything dignified 
and laudable. Having once learned to know and appreciate 
so rare and valuable a friend, I yielded up myself entirely to 
her influence.'* 

The Pretender is blamed for having a violent temper, by 
certain of Alfieri's biographers, because he objected to his 
constant visits to his wife, and to her constantly keeping 
company with him. Whithersoever she went, with or 
without her husband, thither Alfieri went also before many' 
days had passed. It is not strange that a separation between 
Charles Edward and his wife soon took place ; even then 
she was under the protection of the Pretender's brother. 
Cardinal York, at Rome. First, the Cardinal placed her in 
a convent ; at the instigation of Alfieri she implored him to 
allow her to reside at private lodgings in the city» With 
the permission of the Pope he gave her apartments in 
his own palace. No sooner does Alfieri hear this that 
he resolves on taking up his residence at Rome. He 
immediately paid his court to the Cardinal and begged 
to be permitted to have an occasional interview with 
the Countess. First it did not occur to his Eminence tha^* 

o MtiQy yeftrs afterwards he happened to get a glanoe of one of the women 
thus dup iragiogljr alluded to iu he wjw hasteaing to the packet-boat at Dover. 
A» he had not time to apeak to her he wrote her a letter from Calais full of 
alfection, kindness, &c. She, confi ling in him still, wrote him a long letter in 
reference to their former relations and other drcumstanoes evidently intended 
for no eye or ear but his own. This frank and generous letter he publishes in 
nil in his Memoirs ! 



238 ^ ALFIEBt, HI8 LIFE, WRinNOS, AND INFLUENCE. [Msrch, 

there could be any harm in this, and he acceded to his 
request. But his visits became so frequent that suspicion 
began to be excited, and supposing that he could induce 
the Pope to save him from expulsion from the residence of 
the Cardinal, he presented copies of some of his recently- 
printed tragedies to his Holiness, who graciously received 
them and, according to the author's own words, instead of suf- 
fering him to kiss his toe, he ** patted him, with a grace truly 
Katernal, upon' the cheek.*' The kindness of the Pope em- 
oldened Alfieri t.o make another offer. He told his Holiness 
that he had an unpublished tragedy on Saul, ^hich, being a 
Scriptural subject, he wished to dedicate to him. The Holy 
Father replied, in as gentle terms as possible, that be could 
not allow any theatrical subject to be dedicated to him, let 
the subject be what it might. All of a sudden Alfieri dis- 
covers that Pius VI is but ** a narrow-minded monk" and 
that all his clergy at Rome are but ^* priestlings." Nay. in 
his anger he betrays his own meanness by proclaiming that 
before he made either offer to his Holiness he had but little 
respect either for his office or his person. If Alfieri had had as 
much power as Henry VIII. he would doubtless have pur- 
sued a course somewhat similar to that of his British majesty. 
As it was, he thought it better to leave Rome as quickly 
as possible. Soon after the Countess announced to the Car- 
dinal that she was very unwell and that her physician 
thought her health would be much benefited by a visit to 
Baden, in Switzerland. His Eminence could not refuse a re^ 
quest that seemed so reasonable. She only stayed at Baden 
a week or two, when she proceeded to Paris, where Alfieri 
immediately joined her, ana they separated no more. It was 
not long after until the Pretender died ; then the Countess 
was entirely free and they lived together openly. Some 
say that a private marriage took place between them; but 
there is no evidence of this fact. The more general, and 
doubtless more correct, opinion is that Alfieri never married 
any one. 

So early as the age of forty Alfieri regarded his intellectual 
powers as in a state of decay ; and accordingly resolved to 
write no more tragedies. He was also in the habit of pre- 
dicting his own death. When he heard that the French were 
about to invade Tuscany, after he had published his Jfuo- 
gallOf he regarded his early death as almost certain. Under 
the influence of this feeling he sent copies of the work to all 
his friends, in order that they might distribute them after his 



1^67.] auhbi, his uwt, wbhinob, avd influengb. S29 

death. His first care was to write his own epitaph and that 
of the Countess, but he had to admit afterwards that if he was 
iuany danger of being killed by the French, it was only bytheir 
polite attentions to him. We have already seen illustrations 
of this ; we may now add another, namely* that after the bat- 
tle of Marengo Napoleon offered him an important position in 
the Academy of Sciences at Turin, which had now become a 
National Institute. 

Although Alfieri changed his resolution as to writing 
after the age of forty, he said that it was a weakness 
to do so, and the results showed that, however erro- 
neous most of his other predictions had been, he was 
right in this. At the age of forty-eight he resolved to try 
what he could do in comedy ; accordingly be vviote the six 
which are published with his other works, but only one of 
these, 11 Divorziof is even tolerable ; the rest are utter fail- 
ures as dramas. But he proves himself a much better satirist 
in them than in any of his earlier productions, not excepting 
his Miiogallo. 

At the age of forty-seven — long after he had written his 
last tragedies — he became ashamed of his ignorance of Greek, 
and resolved to master that language if possible. He applied 
himself with such untiring perseverance and industry to 
his self-imposed task that before the end of one year he 
could read almost any G-reek author with very little labor ; 
in two years he was capable of translating the most diffi* 
cult ; and he even acquired considerable skill in writing' 
the language. The chief fruits of his Greek studies are his 
Alceste Prima and Alceste Secunda^ which, however, are little 
more than paraphrases of Euripides' fine play of that name. 
His severe and almost constant study of the Greek for three 
years, combined with the labor he bestowed on his six 
comedies — writing four in less than one month-— completely 
broke down his health. Thus, on the 8th December, 180:^, 
he wrote the last stanza of his poetry, and on the 8th Octo« 
her of the following year he breathed his last. In the mean- 
time he amused himself in writing the conclusion of his 
MemoirSf until one of those attacks of inflammatory gout to 
which he had recently been subject put a sudden stop to 
all his labors. 

However much the conduct of the Countess of Al- 
bany may be censured in other particulars, it is certain 
that she bestowed the tenderest care on Alfieri to the last; 
and when he died she had him interred in the Church of 



S30 ALnRRi, HIS uwi^ wftttiHOfl, AND IKFU7BKGR. [March, 

Saota Crosa, side by side with Machiavelli. Galileo, and 
Michael Angelo, and had a monument erected to bis mem- 
ory by the famous sculptor Canova. This truly magnificent 
tomb bears the following simple inscription: "Victorio 
Alficrio Astensi Aloisia e principibus Stolbergis Albanian 
Comitissa, m. p. c. an. MDCCCX." In addition to this she 
got out a splendid edition of his complete works in thirty- 
five quarto volumes soon after his death. His posthumous 
writings, including his translation of Sallust into Italian, his 
imitation of the Panegjrric of Trajan by Pliny, some sat- 
ires, and his Autobiography, fill thirteen of these volumes. 

The personal history of Alfieri is so prolific and interest- 
ing a theme that it has left us but little room for criticism 
on his writings ; but we cannot take leave of tHe author of 
Mirrha^ whatever his faults may have been as an indi- 
vidual, without giving our impressions of the peculiar char- 
acter of his genius. It is hardly strange that a man like 
Alfieri should be in turn the subject of exaggerated praise 
and exaggerated censure ; that his friends should declare him 
equal if not superior to the greatest dramatists of the ancient 
and modern world ; while his enemies would hardly allow 
him the third rank. As men of undoubted abilities have 
written on both sides, it is easy to understand how it is that 
scarcely two of those who have depended on the opinions of 
others without making any efibrt to examine for themselves 
agree in their estimate of Alfieri either as a dramatist or a 
poet. It is idle to deny that he is entitled to high rank ; no 
unbiased person who has read his works and is capable of 
appreciating them would deny this. At the same time 90 
such person would maintain that he is equal to any of those 
who are recognized in every enlightened country as the 
world's greatest dramatists; such as ^schyl us, Sophocles, 
Shakespeare, Goethe, Schiller, Comeille, Racine. It is true 
that those German and English critics who refuse to rank 
him with the greatest of their own countrymen do not hesi- 
tate to place him above the leading French dramatists. In 
our opinion this is not just; Alfieri is really not superior as 
a dramatist, or as a poet, either to Corneille or Racine — ^nay, 
more, he is not superior to Voltaire ; it is by no means clear 
that he is equal to the author of the Hcnriade. Judging him 
by the test applied by his most ardent admirers — ^namely, the 
influence he has produced on his own countrymen — ^he can 
hardly claim a higher position than any of the three French 
dramatists we have mentioned. 



1867.] ALFIBRt, HIS UrC, WBmKOSy AND IKrLUBNCl. 231 

Probably neither Corneille, nor Racine has been so popular 
in France as Alfieri has been in Italy ; but either of the former 
has improved the taste of his countrymen much more than 
the latter. Nay, Comeille and Racine have improved the 
taste of nil Europe ; this will not be denied by any intel- 
ligent person. But can the same be said of Alfieri ? His 
writings have been very little read out of his own country ; 
and of the foreigners who have read them, the majority 
have been led to do so much more on account of the roman- 
tic character of the author than their intrinsic merits. As 
to the criterion of influence, it may be doubted whether Vol- 
laire has not influenced the mind even of Italy more than 
Alfieri ; that he has more influenced 1;he philosophic mind of 
that country is beyond question. But need it be asked which 
has exercised the greater influence on the mind of Germany 
or England? Who will deny that it is Voltaire? Nor 
must it be supposed that we mean by the influence alluded 
to, what the arch-scoffer has said and done against religion^ 
This is Voltaire's great fault, and it is the one that has df>03 
most injury to his fame ; it has made most of us blind to hja 
virtues. It is just because he was such a scoffer that oom- 
paratively few appreciate the true universality of his. genius, 
and that wonderful fecundity of ideas which enabled him to 
furnish thoughts on human progress to every coujitry in 
Europe. 

We speak of Alfieri, more particularly in oonxparison with 
the French dramatists, because his tragediea aire more like 
theirs than those of any others ; and what is more, he has 
undoubtedly borrowed more from them than from any 
others. From none has he borrowed so mjuch as from Vol- 
taire ; by none has he profited so much i although he affects 
to despise him more than he does almost any other 
dramatist, which, however, is rather natural than strange.* 

But whatever conclusion we may arrive at when we com-, 
pare Alfieri to the dramatists of other countries, he is undoubt- 
edly the best dramatist of his own country. But he is by na 

o The Coanteis of Albany onoe menUone<| to him in a letter that she ha4 
been much pleaded at seeing Voltaire's BrvUu performed on the stage. This 
excited his jealousy, ** What ! " he exclaimed. ** Bntum written by a Voltaii^lf 
rU write Brutnses, and two at once. Moreover, time will show whether such 
iobjects for tragedy are better adapted for me or for a flMan-bom ^Drenekfum 
who, for more than sixty years, subscribed himself * Voltaire, Qentlemen in 
ordinary to tiie King.' " The ** plebeian^bom Frenchman" was, howererg^a 
much greater thinker than the '* noble-bom Italian " who thnt sunmiarilyi 
but Ulogically, condemns him. 



98S ALTisaz, BIS UFA, WRinKGti, AKD iNFLUBKOs. [Marcb, 

means the best poet ; on the contrary, be is far interior not 
only to Dante, Tasso« and Ariosto, but to at least as many 
more, including Petrarch.* He takes the palm as a dramatist 
in Italy, not because even modem Italy nas not produced as 
great intellects as any other country* but because the opera 
takes the place* in Italy which the regular drama does in other 
countries. Metastasiq would unquestionably have been a 
great dramatic writer had he not devoted his fine talents 
almost exclusively to the opera ; for with a genius which was 
certainly not inferior to that of Alfieri, he had a much higher 
i^ulture, a much more refined taste. 

But let us remember this fact in his favor ; he had many 
competitors among his own countrymen in opera, whereas, 
Alfieri can hardly be said to have had one in tragedy. Metas- 
ftasio is the best in opera, as Altieri is the best in tragedy. That 
»the latter is grander than the former — ^that there is more sub- 
flimity in it—far be it from us to deny. " The opera," says 
^Sismondi, '^ is not, like tragedy, of noble origin. Bom of the 
•.voluptuous courts of princes, it could not be destined to 
form heroes ; it was required to combine all enjoyments, all 
emotions ; to captivate at the same time the eyes, the ears, 
and the most .tender affections of the heart ; to ennoble volup- 
.tuousness, to sanctify it in some degree by the mixture of 
delicate and exalted sentiments ; and if a political object is 
to be looked for beyond that of actual enjoyment, to take 
from the prince all remorse for bis luxuriousness, and from 
the subjects all .thought beyond the present time." 

Thus the field of Metastasio was but a narrow one, whereas 
that of Alfieri was coiextensive with the world. Now let us see 
for a moment or two what is the real resemblance between 
the tragedies of Alfieri and those of the great French dram- 
atists we .have mentioned. None has pointed out this dif- 
ference better than Qinguend, who was a personal friend and 
.admirer of Alfieri. ^< Our drama is meagre," he says, *< com- 



* Schlegel, one of the best modem critics, compares the other Italian 
dramatists of bis time to Alfieri as follows ; 

*' The performances of Metastasio, Goldoni, Oozzi, Alfieri, singly display all 
the elements of scenic poetry generaUy found nnited in the finished dramas 
that have possession of our own stage. Metastasio is celebrated for the highest 
degree of melodioiis expression ; Goldoniidepicts ordinary life eiifiily and agree- 
ably, his charocters and masques being after genuine Italian fashion ; Qoxsi's 
fantastic extravagansis, while repletc.wiUi really poetic invention, lack musical 
petfection and imaginative embellishment, which can, alone, give due effect to 
their poetical contents ; Alfieri's aspirations after antique sublimity merit the 
pmi^ bestowed on laudable efiortseicen.vhen/atftno thiirt of complete success." 
'-JIi9t,qfLit.p,Ub. 



1867.] ALFIBRIy HI8 LIFE, WRmNOS, AWD IKFLUCNOK. .233 

pared to that of the Greeks ; that of Alfieri is so in regard to 
ours, almost in the same proportion."* English critics censure 
the French drama for its coldness, its statuesque, artificial 
characters, its long monologues, &c. but if all these are faults, 
Alfieri has erred in these respects still'more than the French, 
for he is decidedly more artificial than they ; he exhibits less 
feeling, less reality. The most intelligent of his own country* 
men.and those who admire him most, are obliged to admit this* 
" Alfieri's poetry," says Mariotti, ** was sculpture. His 
trage(?ies are only a group of four or five statues ; his char- 
acters are figures of marble, incorruptible, everlasting ; but 
not flesh, nothing likejUshj having nothing of its/reshnesa and 
hue. He describes no scene. Those statues stand by them- 
selves, isolated on their pedestals, on a vacant ideal stage, 
without background, without contrast of landscape or 
scenery, all wrapped in their heroic mantle ; all moving, 
breathing statues perhaps, still nothing but statues." f 

This is a just estimate ; it certainly does no injustice to 
Alfieri, for he is neither true to nature nor to history. All the 
subjects of his tragedies are historical, but in only one or two 
does he portray bis characters as they are represented in 
history ; indeed, it may be said that Brutus is the only one 
in which he pays any attention to accuracy in this respect ; 
and be it remembered that he had carefully studied the 
Brutus of Voltaire. Whenever he depends exclusively on his 
own resources, certain it is that he indulges in great exag- 
geration ; he makes his characters either angels or devils, 
generally the latter.* But even his good and evil spirits are 
not like those we find in other authors ; no beings, could be 
more unlike the angels and devils of Danteaiicl^Ariqsto; and 
they do not approach any nearer to those of MiltoftPt* Shakes- 
peare. True, it is not so great a fault not to pBfliray super- 
natural beings faithfully — that is, in accordance to the char- 
acteristics which are popularlyiattributed to them — as it is to 
misrepresent familiar historical personages. A glance at 
almost any of his tragedies will show that he errs egregiously 
in the latter respect. Take his Ottavia^ for example, and 

o Notre th66tro est d^jft maigre, aupr^ de celui des Grecs; oelui d' Alfieri 
est, a regard du ndtre, presque dano la meme proportion. 

f " MiiiB U me scmble, says Mine, de StaSl, que quelqueft-unes de ses trag^- 
dlesont autant de monotonie duns la force que M^tastate en a dans la douceur. 
II 7 a dans les pi^es d'Allieri une telle profusion d'euerpe et de magnanimity, 
ou bien une telle txagiraiion de violence d de crime, qu'il est impossible d' y reoon- 
naltrft le Teritible caract^re des hommcs. lis ne sont Jamais ni si mecliaDts ni 
si g4n6reaux qu'il les peint." 



284 ALFiERi, HIS Lfri, wsniKag, and isvwksce. [March, 

see bow he treats those characters that are known to every 
student ; there is scarcely one of them to whom justice is 
done ; scarcely one that could be recognized by the portrait 
of Allieri if the historical name were not attached to it. 

No one admired Alfieri more than Madame de Sta^l, nor 
has any one bestowed more praise on whatever is worthy of 

1>raise in his works ; at the same time she could not over- 
ook such glaring faults as the violations of nature and 
history to which we have alluded. There is no finer passage 
in her Carinne than that in which she criticises Aifieri's 
Octavta. '* Seneca," she says, •* incessantly lectures Nero as 
if he were the most patient of men, and Seneca himself the 
most courageous of all. The master of the world allows 
himself to be insulted, and put in a passion in every scene 
for the pleasure of the spectators, as if it did not depend on 
him to end all with one word. Certainly, these continual 
dialogues give Seneca an opportunity of making some very 
fine responses ; but is this the way to give a correct idea of 
tyranny ?" • 

In bis Don Garzia^ Mernjx and Timoleone, he trans- 
gresses in a similar manner ; yet, as we have already inti- 
mated, his genius for tragedy cannot be disputed. There 
is not one of his tragedies in which there are itot noble por- 
traitures and sublime passages. Perhaps no poet expresses 
resentment in stronger terms than he, or presents evil in a 
more odious light ; yet he rarely touches the heart ; he 
convinces by logical argument rather than subdues by im- 
passioned eloquence. Before we close we will make room 
for a specimen or two, for the satisfaction of those who may 
not have had an opportunity of seeing his works. We 
select the opening dialogue from the tragedy of Brutus, 
partly because it is good in itself, and partly because it will 
afford the reader an opportunity of comparing it with the 
corresponding dialogue in Shakespeare's Julius CasaVj and 
this comparison renders it needless for us to make any com- 
ment in this place : 



o ** Sen^ae y moralise Bans oesse N^ron, comme s'il £tait le plus patient des 
hommes et lui, SSn&que, le plus oourageux de toua. Le mattre du monde, dans 
la trag^ie, consent a se lalsser insulter et & se mettre en colore a chaque sc^ne 
pour le plaisir des spectateurs, comme s'il ne dSpendait pas de lui de tout finir 
avec un mot. Certainement oes dialogues continuels donnent lieu i de trds- 
belles r^ponses de Sen^ue, et Ton youdrait trourer dans une harangue on nn 
ouvrage les noble pensdes qu'il exprime ; mais est-ce ainsi qu'on pent donner 
Tid^ de la tyrannic 7" 



1867.] ALFtBRI, HIS UFK, WRITINOS, AND INrLVXMCI. 285 

BBUTUB AKD OOLLATINUB. 

Col, — ^An I where, — ah I where, O Brutus, would thou thus 
Drag me by force ? Quickly restore to me 
This sword of mine, which with beloved blood 
Is reeking yet. In my own breast 

BHf.— Ah! first 

This sword, now sacred in the breast of others 
Shall be immersed, I swear to thee. Meanwhile 
^ T is indispensable that in this Forum 

Thy boundless sorrow, and ray just revenge, 
Burst unreservedly before the eyes 
Of universal Rome. 

CW.— Ah,noI I will 

Withdraw myseli from every human eye 
To my unparalleled calamity 
All remedies are vain : the sword, this sword. 
Alone can put an end to my distress. 

Bnt. — O CoUatinuB, a complete revenge 

Would surely be some solace ; and I swear 
To thee, that that revenge thou shalt obtain.— 
O, of a chaste and innocent Roman lady 
Thou sacred blood, to-day shalt thou cement 
The edifice of Roman liberty !♦ 

Col,*— Ah. I could my heart indulge a hope like this, — 
The hope, ere death, of universal vengeance ! 

Bra. — ^Hope ? be assured of it At length, behold. 
The mom is dawning of the wiuied-for day : 
To-day my lofty, long-projected plan 
At length may gain a substance and a form. 
Thou, from a wronged, unhappy spouse, mayst now 
Become the avenging citizen : e'en thou 
Shalt bless that innocent blood : and then if thou 
Wilt give thy own, it will not be in vain 
For a true country shed, — a country, yes. 
Which Bratus will to-day create with thee, 
Or die with thee in such an enterprise. 

^ For the benefit of the reader who is familiar with the Italian, though un- 
acquaioted with Alfieri, we tranacribe the original of the beginning of the 
diidogue, so that an idea may be formed of the author's style : 

Cof.— Dore, deh I doYe. a forsa tiannl, o BnitOj 
Teco Tttol tn r BendimL or via, mel rendi 

8ael mlo pugnal, che deu*axnato langae 
render pur anoo . . . Sntro al mlo petto . . . 
J3Hf.~Qiie8to ferro, omai lacro, ad altrl In petto 

ImmergeraMi, to U iclnro.— AgU oocni intanto 
Bl Roma intera, in qaesto foro, A d* nope 
Che intera, ecoppl o U tao dolore immenao, 
Bd U ftiror mio pnsto. 
Coi.— Ah I no : ■ottrarmi 

Ad ogni ritta to Yogllo. Al fero atroce 
Mlo caao, ^. rano onii BoUleYO : il ferro 
Qnel ferro sol fla del mio pianger line 
iBf«.~Amjpia Yondetta, o CoUatin, ti fora 

BoliieTo pnre : e tn T aYrai ; tel ginro.— 
O caato sangne d* Innocente e forte 
Bomana donna, atto prindpio a Soma 
OggiaaraL 



286 AIJllBI, HIS UWE, WBITIKOS, AND IKFLUBKCE. [March, 

Cd, — O, what a sacred name dost thou pronounce I 
I, for a genuine country's sake alone, 
Could naw sunriye my immolated wife. 

Bni. — Ah I then resolve to live ; codperate 

With me in this attempt. A god inspires me ; 

A god infuses ardor in my breast, 

Who thus exhorts me : *^ It belongs to thee, 

CoUatinus, and to thee, O Brutus, 
To give both life and liberty to Rome." 

OoL — Worthy of Brutus is thy lofty hope : 

1 should be vile, if I defeated it 

Or from the impious Tarquins wholly rescued. 
Our country shall from us new life obtain. 
Or we— but first avenged — ^with her will fall 

Bau, — ^Whether enslaved or free, we now shall fall 
Illustrious and revenged. My horrible oath 
Perhaps thou hast not well heard ; the oath I uttered, 
When £rom Lucretia^s palpitating heart 
The digger I dislodged which still I grasp. 
Deaf from thy mighty grief, thou, in thy house. 
Scarce heardest it ; here once more wilt thou hear it, 
By my own lips, upon the inanimate corse 
Of th^ unhappy immolated wife, 
And m the presence of assembled Rome, 
More strenuously, more solemnly renewed. 
Already^ with the rising sun, the Forum 
With apprehensive citizens is filled ; 
Already, by Valerius' means, the cry 
Is to the multitude promulgated 
Of the impious catastrophe ; the efiect 
Will be far stronger on their heated hearts, 
When they behold the chaste and beauteous lady 
With her own bands destroyed. In their disdain, 
As much as in my own, shall I confide. 
But, more than every man, thou shouldst be present : 
Thine eyes from the distracting spectacle 
Thou mayst avert : to thy afiUction this 
May be allowed ; yet here shouldst thou remain ; 
E'en more than my impassioned words, thy mute 
And boundless grief is fitted to excite 
The oppressed spectators to indignant pity. 

Col, — O Brutus ! the divinity which speaks 
In thee to lofty and ferocious rage 
Hath changed my grief already. The last words 
Of the magnanimous Lucretia seem, 
In a more awfhl and impressive sound. 
To echo in my ears, and smite my heart. 
Can I be less infiexible to avenge, 
Than she to inflict, her voluntary death ? 
In the infamous Tarquinii's blood alone 
Can I wash out the stigma of the name 
Common to me and them 1 



1867.] ALFIEBI, HTS LIEEy WKITINOB, AND IMFLUIKCR. 237 

Bru. — ^Ah I I, too, spring 

From their impure and arbitrary blood : 
But Rome shall be convinced that I'm her son, 
Not of the Tarquins' sister; and as far 
As blood not Roman desecrates my yeins, 
I swear to change it all by shedding it 
For my beloved country. — ^But, behold, 
The multitude increases ; hitherward 
Numbers advance; now it is time to speak. 

The reader has doubtless seen in this passage one of the 
secrets of Alfieri's success — namely, his skill in arresting the 
attention of the audience at the opening of his dramas ; it 
may be added that he also does his best to secure that at- 
tention to the last, and that he generally succeeds in doing 
so. Yet, no one uses a simpler groundwork or fewer in- 
cidents. He introduces no characters but those that are 
essential to the development of his plot. The confidants 
of other Italian dramatists he entirely discards ; and for the 
purpose of explaining the nature of his fable be substitutes 
soliloquies for under-plots. Thus we see how closely he 
approached the form of the Greek drama without knowing 
anything about it except what he learned unconsciously 
through the French ; but he omitted one great attraction of 
the Greek drama, namely, its delightful choral songs. In this. 
too, he imitated the French ; for one of the most serious 
faults which they find with Shakespeare is that he intro- 
duces songs and amusing scenes into the middle of his most 
bloody tragedies. 

It is worthy of remark that in nothing does Alfieri 
succeed better than in the horrible and repulsive. This 
is well exemplified in his tragedy of Myrrha^ whose hideous 
story forms the subject of one of Ovid's Metamorphoses, 
but which is so objectionable, although not at all exag- 
gerated by the Roman poet, that it is omitted in almost 
every edition intended for schools.* Myrrha was the daugh- 
ter of Cinvras, King of Cyprus ; she had a son by her own 
father, called Adonis. When the king became aware of the 
crime he had unknowingly committed, he attempted to stab 



o Even the amorous and somewaat licentious Ovid was rather afraid of the 
sahject. In order to disarm the ahborreace of the reader, he introduces the 
loathsome story as a fable, one in which he has no f<iith in hiniBelff and ex- 
presses the hope tiiat the melody of his verses wUl remove any disagreeable 
impre«ions which so repuhiye a tale is so well calculated to make : 

** Dlim casam ; proenl Mncnata, proenl asta parentes ; 
Ant. mem al vastraa nraloelMat carmlna mantes, 
Dealt hi bac mihi parte fldaa; nee credlta f 



233 ALFIIBIy HIS UWB, WBITZK08, AND INFLUENCr, [March, 

his daughter ; but she fled into Arabia, where, as the fable 
has ity she was changed into a tree called myrrh. Alfieri 
makes the most of all the circumstances in his tragedy; yet 
it was the favorite of the Countess of Albany ; what is per- 
haps still stranger is that it is dedicated to her. In the dedi- 
cation the following passage occurs : 

" The at once innocent and horrid love 
Of the unhappy maid from Cinyras sprang 
Always caas'd tears ^m thy bright eyes to flow ; 
These tears imperiously my bosom move 
To consecrate to thee (who heard'st it sung 
With sympathetic feeling) Myrrha's wo."*^ 

The first scene of the tragedy presents Cecris, the mother 
and Euryclea. the nurse of Myrrha, on the morning of the 
day fixed for the marriage of the latter to Pereus, son of the 
King of Epirus. The mother calls the nurse to tell her all 
she has observed of the mysterious melancholy of her daugh- 
ter, asking what can be the reason of it, seeing that the 
young prince was her own choice. The nurse overheard 
Myrrha's sighs and sobs during the night. An altercation 
ensues, Myrrha having become angry; but although the kind, 
affectionate words of the nurse readily subdue her anger, all 
she reveals is that she does not love Pereus. The nurse give 
her impressions to the mother : 

** I know her to possess a lofty heart ; 
A heart in which a flame that were not lofty 
Could never enter. This can I safely swear : 
The man that she could love—of royal blood 
That man must be, or he were not her lover. 
Now, who of these have ye admitted here, 
Whom, at her will, she could not, with her hand, 
Make happy ? Then her erief is not from love. 
Love, though it feed itself with tears and sighs, 
Tet still it leaves— I know not what, of hope, 
That vivifles the centre of the heart ; 
But in her deep, impenetrable gloom 
There glimmers no coy radiance ; in her wound. 
Festering and irremediable, there lurks 
No sanative, balsamic antidote t " 

The mother thinks the only difficulty is that Myrrha does 
not like her intended husband, and accordingly resolves that 
the marriage shall not take place, at the same time sending 

• DeCa ilgUm di Ciniro InfeUoe 

L^orrendo a on tempo ed innoeente amore, 
Sempra da* tnoi b^ oechi U pianto el:oe : 

Rora emmi qitesta, ehe al mio dnbbio oora 
Taeitamente impertooa dice ; 
Oh* io dl Mlna ooouadrl a te lldolora. 



1861 .J ALFIKBI, HIS UFE, VaiTINGB, AND INFLUENCE. 289 

back the nurse to comfort her. The king is informed of the 
grief of his daughter and he agrees to break off the mar- 
riage if his doing so will contribute in the least to the hap- 
piness of a daughter who was so dear to him. To this he 
adds that her mother must induce her to reveal the cause of 
her melancholy, and then while she is doing so he sends 
for the young prince in order to prepare him for the worst. 
At the opening of the second act Pereus comes in com- 
pliance with the king's wish. Cinyras compliments him 
highly, telling him how much gratified he is with his 
daughter's preference for him among her many suitors ; but 
he thinks it is his duty to inquire whether Myrrha returns 
his love. The reply of the prince is undoubtedly a noble 
strain : 

" Thou, Cinyras, 
Although thou be a father, still retainest 
Thy youthful vigor, and rememberest love. 
Enow, then, that evermore with trembling steps, 
And as if by compulsion, she accosts me ; 
A deathly paleness o*er her countenance steals ; 
And her fine eyes towrds me are never tum'd. 
A few irresolute and broken words 
She Alters out, involved in mortal coldness ; 
Her eyes, eternally suflfused with tears, 
She fixes on the ground ; in speechless grief 
Her soul is bHlried ; a pale sickliness 
Dims, not annihilates, her wond'rous charms. 
Behold her state. Tet of connubial rites 
She speaks; and now thou wouldst pronounce that she 
Desired those rites ; now that, far worse than death, 
She dreaded them ; now she herself assigns 
The day for these, and now she puts it off. 
If I inquire the reason of her grief, 
Her lip denies it ; )mt her countenance, 
Of agony expressive, and of death. 
Proclaims incurable despair. 
Me ffhe assures, and each returning day 
Renews the assurance, that X am her choice; 
She says not that she loves me ; high of heart. 
She knows not how to feign. I wish, and fear, 
To hear from her the truth : I check my tears ; 
I bum, I languish, and I dare not speak. 
Now from her faith, reluctantly bestowed, 
Would I myself release her ; now a^ain 
I fain would die, since to resign quite 
I have no power ; yet, unpossessed her heart, 
Her person would I not possess." 

The king is unwilling to say that be wishes Pereus to release 
his daughter from her engagement; but Pereus easily divines 
the truth, and declares that he would sacrifice bi« life to pro- 



840 ALFICRI, HIS LIFE, WRITINOS, AND IXFLCEKCC. [March, 

mote her happiness. The king reqaests him to make known 
these sentiments to herself, and if possible to ascertain the 
cause of her misery. This being decided upon Cinyras with- 
draws and Myrrha enters in her wedding dress, but looking 
as sad as if it had been intended for her funeral. Pereus 
complains of her coldness and silence, telling her that he sees 
ho is an object of dislike, not of love, to her. She feels hurt 
at this, and tells him that it is unmerited on her part, since 
she not only preferred him to all others, but was now ready 
to fulfil her engagement : 

t* 'Tis trae, perchance, my spiritB are not buoyant 
As her'8 should be who doth obtain a spouse 
DistingaiBh'd like thyself; but pensiveness 
In some is nature^s cast ; and ill could be 
Whose spiritts stagnate in a constant ell, 
Trace the dim cause that interdicts their flow : — 
And often an officious questioning, 
Instead of making manifest the cause, 
Redoubles the e&ct ' 

This is not very satisfactory to Pereus. He tells her he 
knew at the outset that she did not love hiui, but that he 
hoped she would in time learn to do so. Now he is convinced 
that he deceived himself in this, and he is willing therefore 
to release her from her promise. Her grief is still the same, 
but she denies that it is caused by any dislike of him ; she 
would have hiui believe tbat she grieves so bitterly only 
at the idea of being separated, perhaps forever, from her 
parents. 

" The long, long pilgrimage to other realms ; 
The change of manners and the change of place; 
The long farewell to all familiar objects, 
And all familiar friends, from childhood loved ; 
And other thoughts, by thousands and by thousands. 
All passionate uid tender, and aU sad, 
And all indisputably better known 
And felt more keenly than by any other. 
By thy humane, courteous, and lofty heart. 
I gaye myself spontaneously to thee ; 
Nor have I ever, with repentant thoughts, 
I swear to thee, looked back on this resolye. 
If it were so, I would have told it to thee : 
Thee aboye aU men, I esteem ; from thee 
Nothing would I conceal that I would not 
Likewise from my own consciousness conceaL 
Now, I implore, let him wholoyes me best 
Speak to me least of this my wretchedness. 
And 'twill in time, Jfeel assured, depart 



186t.] ALFIBRI, BIS LIFE, WBITIH08, AHD IMFLUBNCK 241 

Could I, not prizmg thee, gire thee my hand, 
I should despise myself; and how not prize thee ? 
My lip knows not to speak that which my heart 
Doth not lint dictate ; yet that lip assures thee, 
Swears to thee, thati nerer will belong 
To any one but thee 1 ^ 

The hopes ofPereus revive. He asks is she really willing 
to be his ; she ansvrers that she is, but that she wishes him to 
set sail from Cyprus the moment the ceremony is over. 
This seems strange to him, in view of her avowed affection 
for her parents. He tells her so and she replies that she 
wishes to die with grief. At this he takes offence and leaves 
while she tries to prevent him. She cannot bear being alone 
in her grief and sends immediately for her nurse, at the same 
time bursting into tears, and prays that death would put a 
sudden end to her sufferings. Venus is here introduced with 
no very good effect. Myrrha finds that the goddess is angry 
with her and resolved on revenge ; in order to anticipate 
this, she implores the nurse to dispatch her. The nurse, like a 
faithful servant, is about to run with the bad news to her mis- 
tress. This frightens Myrrha and she declares that she has 
found relief in tears and is now ready to have the ceremony 
performed. At the opening of the third act the King and 
Queen appear alone ; they send for Myrrha, who soon joins 
them. She seems much more composed than usual until 
she sees her father, when her emotions again overcome her. 
It is in vain he addresses her in the most affectionate terms: 

"If yet 
Thy will is changed ; if thy conunitted &ith 
Be irksome to thy heart ; if thy free choice, 
Though once spontaneous, be no longer such, 
Behold t fear nothins in the world; reyeal 
All the misgivings of thy heart to us. 
Thou art by notmng bound ; and we ourselves 
The first release thee ; and thy generous lover, 
Worthy of thee, confirms this liberty. 
Nor wiU we tax thee with inconstancy : 
Rather will we admit that thoughts mature. 
Though unforeseen, constrain tliee to this change. 
By base regards thou never canst be moved; 
Thy noble character, thy lofty thoughts, 
Thy love for us, full well we know 3iem all," 

Myrrha replies, but in the most melancholy and hope- 
less terms. She is still willing to marry Pereus ; nay, she in- 
sists on doing so ; if she is not permitted she will die. All she 
asksof her parents is that they will allow her to depart immedi- 

VOL. XIV. — NO. XXVIII. 3 



242 ALFIERI, HIS UFX, WBITINOS, AND INrUTBNOB. [March, 

ately after ber marriage. While she is dressing for the cere- 
mony Oecris confesses to her husband the offence which she had 
committed againstVenus in having dared to refuse incense to 
her; she also boasts that more votaries were attracted to Cy- 
prus by Myrrba's beauty than by devotion to the goddess of the 
island. The only effect this revelation has on the king is to 
induce him to hurry away the daughter so that she may be 
able to avoid the vengeance of the goddess. The third act 
concludes shortly after the entrance of Pereus. when it is 
announced that the marriage will be performed iu the 
palace. 

In the fourth act Myrrha seems to have undergone a 
complete change. She has no appearance of melancholy 
now; on the contrary, few brides appear more hopeful or in 
L^etter spirits, and she addresses Pereus as her ** much-loved 
consort," &c. 

^* To find myself at once 
With thee alone ; no longer to behold 
One of the objects in my sight 
So long the witnesses, and perhaps the cause, 
Of my distress; to sail in unknown seas; 
To land in countries hitherto unseen ; 
To breathe a fresh, invigorating air ; 
And eyermore to witness at my side. 
Beaming with exultation and with lore, 
A spouse like thee ; aU this, I am convinced, 
Will renovate me soon a second time 
To be what I once was.** 

She is informed by Pereus, in reply, that if the marriage 
had been broken up he meant to end his life that day. Now, 
however, he pledges himself to be devoted to her forever ; 
in short, it will be the business of his life to render her 
happy. 

" To weep with thee, 
If thou desire it ; with festivity, 
And mirthful sports, to make the time pass by 
With Ughter wings, and cheat thee of thy cares ; 
With strenuous watchfulness t' anticipate 
AU thy desires ; to ^ow myself at all times. 
Whichever most thou wishest me to be. 
Consort, protector, brother, friend, or servant ; 
Behold, to what I pledge myself: in this, 
And this alone, my glory and my life 
Will aU be centered.*' 

At length the ceremony begins. Myrrha tries to com- 
pose herself ; but it is evident to all who see her that she is 
overwhelmed with grief. Efforts are made to console her ; 



1861.] ALFIERI, HIS LirE, WRinN03, AKD INrLUBNCS. 243 

but she grows worse — ^becomes terrified ; cries out that the 
Furies are surrounding her and that such a marriage deserves 
the tortures with which they threaten her. Pereus prevents 
the ceremony from proceeding, declaring that he will never 
marry her. He reproaches her for having deceived him, but 
adds that he will soon give her abhorrence of him ample 
satisfaction, and then hurriedly withdraws. The king severely 
blames his daughter. Shei in reply, entreats him to kill her, 
telling him that if he does not, she must herself. She is left 
alone with her mother, but is overheard declaring in frantic 
words that her mother is the cause of her fatal misery. But 
it remains for the fifth act to reveal the horrible mystery in 
all its revolting features. It opens wiih a soliloquy from the 
king, who is still entirely iguorant of the real nature of the 
case. He announces that Pereus is slain, and, insisting that 
nothing but love can explain her conduct, forces her to 
declare who is its object. After a most painful strugi^le she 
yields. But the moment the horrible revelation is made she 
seizes her father's dagger and stabs herself. 

One peculiarity of Myrrha in the bands of Alfieri is that 
all the characters are virtuous, notwithstanding the incest 
committed by the father and daughter, whereas there are 
scarcely any of the characters virtuous in his other dramas. 
If all the poets and historians had represented Myrrha, her 
father and mother, as chaste and innocent, it is more than 
probable that Alfieri would have given chem the opposite 
character. At least this is the course he has pursued in 
almost every one of his tragedies. Thus, for example, 
in his Second BrutuB he represents Brutus as actually the son 
of Caesar, who reveals to him the secret of his birth on the 
authority of a letter from his mother. The story is believed 
by Brutus, but has no influence upon him further than that 
he confines himself to giving the signal for killing him without 
striking with his own hand. Then he makes a long speech, 
in which he explains all these circumstances to the people. 
Thus Brutus is made to represent his mother as an adulteress* 
and himself as a bastard, without any object that can be re- 
garded as reasonable under the circumstances. 

But many as are the faults, both literary and moral, of 
Alfieri, his works are undoubtedly very remarkable. Statues 
though his tragedies be there is a strange fascination in them. 
They are truly Grecian in form, terseness, and vigor of stylo ; 
yet no modern dramas have more originality. Even their 
defecis invest them with interest, and serve to impress the 



244 ouvcR cROinrcLLy [March, 

leMODS which tbey teach more indelibly on the mind. Per- 
venely erratic as the author was as a man, much injury as 
be did to society in his time, yet it cannot be denied that 
his works eotitle him to be ranked among the benefactors of 
mankind. 



Art. II. — 1. Reviewcf the Memoira of the Protectorae Houae of 
GrovMtdl, By Wiluam Bicbahds. London. 

2. Cromweirs Letters and Speeches, Thomas Garltlb. London. 

3. Hidory of the Puritans. Neal. 

4. State Papers. ' Clarendon. 

6. History of the Long Parliament. May. 

In general, the character of Oliver Cromwell has been 
greatly maligned. Indeed, it has only been within the last 
fifty years that anything approaching to justice has been 
done him.* It is true that at periods during bis protectorate 
h3 disturbed what we should now call the constitutional 
system of the State. With an inflexible and iron hand he 
bent and modelled it to his own will. But by this very 
fault, as a constitutional ruler, he saved his country from fall- 
ing into many of those errors which might have proved fatal 
to its newly-acquired freedom. Moreover, it must be remem- 
bered that after the brief interval of the protectorate of his 
son, Richard Cromwell, Charles II succeeded him in the 
government of England. Under the new reign the courciera 
of this monarch, who had been so unexpectedly restored to 
the kingdom forfeited by his father, united in blackening 
his memory. When he was in his grave, impotent and silent, 
unable to defend his memory or justify bis actions — ^for who 
was there that would have dared to cast such a reproach 
upon the living lion ? — he was both branded as a traitor and 
condemned as a hypocrite. 

Until the progress of time and enlightenment had par- 
tially impaired and chastened its influence, this censure had 

^ We do not agree with the author of this paper in his ettimate of Crom- 
well, hat aa it is well written and we wiih to rilow our contrihntors full 
liberty of thought and expression, as long as they avoid giving oi&nce to re- 
ligion or morality, we do not hedtate to give it a place — Ed. 



186t.] HIS CHABACTIB AHD OOTJBBNKBIIT. 246 

in a great measure prored fatal to that calm study and earn- 
est research which alone would prove capable of forming a 
correct estimate of Cromwell's character. Some authors 
there have been who have cast an unqualified degree of 
blame, not alone upon his actions, but as unreservedly upon 
the motives which swayed the man towards them. By these 
history has been tampered with, or rather perverted. Its 
facts have been distorted or counted as nothing. Others are 
there who, not content with justifying his principles, have 
applauded even those faults of temper and errors of judg- 
ment which may be traced in him as they are to bedetectM 
in the careers of all men. Those actions which have been 
condemned by the former as criminal have found in the latter, 
not merely pitiful apologists, but conscientious defenders. 
While, perhaps, these may have gone too far in attempting 
to absolve his memory from every censure, the others have 
certainly been more than guilty in treating the character of j 
one who stood in all respects so infinitely in advance of his/ 
own times with a gross and palpable injustice. ^ 

Amongst others of his relatives he had a nephew who 
was called Richard Cromwell ; and Richard Cromwell was 
at this time by no means greatly overburdened with the 
possession of worldly goods. In most respects he might, 
indeed, be regarded in the light of a family retainer by his 
illustrious relative. This nephew was an active and ener- 
getic individual. He was possessed of fine talents, and was far 
from being too scrupulous as to the use he might be required 
to put them to. Consequently, he was employed by the 
Earl, under himself, in the task which he had undertaken. 
For this he proved himself most eminently fitted, and dis- 
played an abundant and not altogether disinterested zeal in 
the work which was demanded of him. Neither was this zeal 
inadequately rewarded by the rapid increase of his fortune. 
The unreserved sale of the church property and the division 
of the ecclesiastical benefices were among the causes which 
led to the formation of, and gradually enriched, the middle 
classes of England. They could not, therefore, fail of enrich- 
ing those who were charged with the superintendence of 
their sale and distribution. Knighted by Henry VIII for his 
services, Richard Cromwell shortly after died, leaving a son 
named Henry, who— probably on account of his wealth, 
which, for a commoner, was very great — received the name 
of the ** Golden Knight" from his contemporaries. At the 
commencement of the seventeenth century, five sons of Henry 



246 OUTER cBoxwiiXy [March, 

Cromwell were living. These were Oliver, Henry, Richard, 
Philip, and Robert. 

Robert Cromwell had married Elizabeth Steward, de- 
scended from a distant branch of the royal family of Scot- 
land, who had settled in England during the reign of one of 
the Edwards. His son was Oliver Cromwell. 

We have been thus particular in recording the circum- 
stances of his birth and family for the purpose of bestowing 
no factitious importance upon a name which does not demand 
it. Our object has simply been to corroborate that which 
we have already said touching the aspersions made against 
his character. He himself, in a speech made in Parliament 
on the 12th of September, 1654, said : " I was by birth a 
gentleman, neither living in any considerable height nor 
yet in obscurity." If, after this avowal And with the knowl- 
edge of the facta previously stated, the defeated Cavaliers 
and the historians of their defeat could call him the ^'son ot 
a brewer,'* it is obvious that but little reliance can be placed 
upon anything they say, either of his mental or moral 
nature. 

Related by personal descent to the powerful Minister of 
Henry VIH, there are indeed still two letters extant, from 
Oliver's great-grandfather to the Earl, in which he signs him- 
self as "Your most bounden nephew, Richard Cromwell." 
This fact would alone, as it appears to us, be sufficient to 
prove the paucity of materials to be advanced against him. 
Lies are rarely employed when the truth is found sufficient 
to justify an aspersion. Besides this, it is known that his 
father's property lay in the immediate neighborhood of 
Huntingdon, while the revenue accruing from it amounted 
to jCSOO a year. This, which is equivalent to at least £ 1,000 
or £ 1 ,100 of the money of the present day, must have placed 
him beyond the necessity of following a trade ; and this it 
must more especially have done, when it is remembered 
that in those days it would have been considered a degra- 
dation to his family. 

Of the early years of the child who was afterwards to 
exert so vast an influence over the internal condition and exter- 
nal politics of England, but little, with any certainty, is 
known. It is indeed stated that when no more than four 
years of age, at the period when the old Queen died and 
James I was called to the inheritance of the English 
crown, he was staying with his uncle, Sir Oliver, at Hinch- 
inbrook, on the banks of the Ouse, when a royal train 



1867.] HIS CHARACTER AND OOYCRNMENT. 241 

approached the old mansion. It was seen winding up the 
broad road which led through the sweeping elms and hoary 
willows of its grounds towaids the house. King James, as 
yet scarcely a month in possession of his new kingdom, was 
to rest there on his way to London, whither lie was then 
proceeding for the ceremony of his coronation. If this was 
so, it must have been a treat for the young and childish 
Oliver. Yet even here fable — although it would be hard to 
say firom whence it comes, whether from friend or enemy-— 
must have a hand in the narrative. The boy quarrelled with 
the young prince and struck him. We feel we need do no 
more than allude to this, as the remaining detailsof the visit 
preceding the monarch's departure prove this to be undoubt- 
edly false, t took place upon Friday, the 25th of April, 
1603, after a halt of two days at the hospitable Sir Oliver's. 
Immediately preceding it, a creation of knights was held in 
the hall of the mansion. One of the uncles of the future. 
Protector received the honor of a blow upon the shoulder 
from the unsheathed sword of the King, which gave him 
the right to prefix** Sir" to his name. In the following 
year, Thomas Steward, of Ely, his maternal uncle, received 
the same honor. 

It was in the year 1616, when he had attAned the age 
of seventeen, that the young man quitted the house of his 
father and the dwelling of his uncle, in which alternately 
his education, such as it was, had until this time progressed. 
He was sent to the University of Cambridge, where he 
entered Sedney Sussex College, upon the festival of the 
Annunciation — said, in his after life, to have had little or no 
pretensions. This can scarcely bo the case. Nor can he 
wholly have neglected those advantages for study which 
wen; here offered him, as be is known, upon one occasion, to 
have replied to a ibreign ambassador, whose address to him 
was delivered in the Latin language. However, it may be 
admitted, to those who wish to depreciate his claims to learn- 
ing, that the interruption which his collegiate education 
must have received from the sudden and unexpected death 
of his father may have prohibited him from pursuing his 
studies to any considerable extent. This occurred in June, 
1617, and at the close of the same year his grandfather 
Steward also died. His mother, fatherless and widowed, was 
left with six daughters and one son. This was Oliver. He 
returned no more to college, and after remaining somO' 
months with his mother, repaired to London for the 
purpose of gaining some knowledge of the law. 



S48 OUTER oaowwwu^ [MarcJi, 

Here commeaces another series of those calamnies which 
have Deen so iDdustriouslj propagated by his enemies 
against Crom well's memory. They have unhesitatingly 
affirmed that he led a most dissolute and thoroughly aban- 
doned life in that capital. That such a charge can by no 
possibility have been founded upon truth we may with the 
greatest safety allege. Possibly, indeed, led astray by the 
eommon carelessness and love of dissipsition which character- 
ize the young, he may have engaged in some of those fol- 
lies which marked the period. He may have shown himself 
a reveller and a spendthrift. Yet, very certain is it that this 
could have been to no very great extent. Even his most 
declared enemies and boldest iraducers have been able to 
collect no instances of notorious or glaring vice to adduce 
against his memory» while all writers acknowledge that, 
whatever his career at this time may have been, in his after 
life he was neither addicted to drunkenness, gluttony, profane 
swearing, nor the love of women. Gaming he had apparently 
been guilty of, as some time after this period, when he 
was oppressed with those convictions of religion which had 
begun to gain ground within his soul, he is known to have 
returned the large sums — at those times they were large-^ 
of j£80 to on A man and £120 to another, of whom he had 
won them. In those days, however, gaming was so com- 
mon a vice that we cannot but feel that it would have been 
almost incredible had Oliver, as a young man, refrained 
from its indulgence. 

Events were now every day becoming more serious. 
James I was dead, and the accession of his son to the throne 
had been hailed with pleasure throughout the nation. Far 
more English than his father had been, the young monarch 
possessed a moral character which was exemplary in the 
extreme. Gifted with a more than ordinary share of intelli- 
gence, singularly handsome in his person — although his tace 
was marked by that serene melancholy which popular super- 
stition has considered to have been a presage of his subse- 
quent fate— -accomplished in all those somewhat old-fashioned 
graces, both of manner and sentiment, which had in previous 
years been considered necessary to the character of a Christian 
knight, and barely twenty-five years of age when he first 
ascended the English throne, great things were naturally 
expected from him. Writs had been issued for the convo- 
cation of a new Parliament upon the 29th of Janoary, 
1628. The time had at length come in which Cromwell 



1867.] HIS OHARACTIB AND GOYBRNMENT. 249 

waa to enter upon bis public life. Summoned by that 
necessity which shapes the actions and develops the 
progress of all men, he became a member of the House of 
Commons for the same borough which had in ^>^Uer years 
returned hi9 father. This was Huntingdoti. 

Oliver took his seat on the I7th of March in the same 
year. As the young man did so and gazed around him, what 
must have been his thoughts ? Had the conviction of that 
which be was ultimately to be called upon to accomplish yet 
shed any light upon his soul ? Did he dream that his hand 
was to accomplish that work which it is more than possible 
his heart already foreshadowed ? Or did he fancy that it was 
to be wrought by more potent will and a stronger and 
mightier arm than his own ? 

After a brief session of merely casual business, the 
House, seeming to be untractable upon the special subject 
for which it had been convened (the only subject which the 
Commons were at this period ever summoned to discuss — 
that of giving the supplies for the royal and national ex- 
penditure, then too olten regarded by sovereigns as one and 
the same thing), was prorogued. It was not until the ^Oth 
of January, in the following year, that it again assembled. 

On this occasion it resolved itself into a Committee on 
Religion upon the 11th of February, when Oliver Cromwell, 
now a man well nigh thirty yeara of age, rose to speak 
for the first time. He was dressed — ^so Sir Philip Warwick 
tells us in his Memoirs — in a plain cloth suit, which would 
by no means seem to have been made by a fashionable tailor. 
His linen was anything but to be commended for its particu- 
lar whiteness. Old-fashioned and somewhat worn ruffles 
decorated his wrists. Around his hat there was no band. 
His sword hung close to his side. Somewhat swollen and 
reddish in his countenance, his voice was singularly harsh 
and untunable, although his delivery was both warm and 
animated. In stature somewhat exceeding the middle height, 
bis frame was strong, muscular, yet well proportioned. He 
had a manly air, bright and sparkling eyes, and possessed a 
stem and piercing look. 

Charles needed money. He therefore required that they 
should vote toe duties of tonnage and poundage for life. 
This alone would have formed a large and sufficient source of 
revenue for his government, and probably would for a con- 
siderable length of time have obviated any pecuniary ne- 
cessity for summoning another Parliament. Feeling that 



250 OUTER GBOHWBLL, [March, 

BQch would be the re8ult> the Commons positively refused, 
after a prolonged and stormy debate, to give their assent to 
the measure. The Speaker, Finch, alarmed at this open re- 
sistance to the royal will, was desirous of adjourning the 
House ; but the members resisted bis wish. He then rose 
to quit the chair, but was pushed back into bis seat and 
retained there by main force. 

On hearing what was passing in the Lower House, the 
King sent immediate orders to the Sergeant-at-arms to with- 
draw with the mace. This was for the purpose of suspend- 
ing their deliberations. Thronging around him, the mem- 
bers retained him also by force in his place. Then the keys 
were taken from him and the doors were locked. 

Shortly after a loud knocking was heard against them. 
The voices of the members at once silenced, and they listened 
to hear what was coming. «* Open !" cried the Usher ot 
the Black Rod. ** A message from the King." Even this 
was of no avail. The doors still remained closed. Upon 
intelligence of this daring hardihood upon the part of the 
Commons reaching him, Charles is said to have grown white 
with fury. He sent immediate orders to the Captain of the 
Guard to force the doors and eject the members. In the 
meantime, the Commons, who were conscious of the danger 
which they had incurred by their resistance to the monarch, 
had with all possible speed passed three resolutions. The 
first of these was directed against Armenianism, which had 
recently been acquiring a large sectarian influence in the 
nation. Growing bolder as they proceeded, the second was 
introduced and passed against the Catholics. The third, with 
oven more hardihood, declared the attempt to levy the dues 
of tonnage and poundage absolutely illegal ; it went even 
further than this, lor it denounced all who should levy and 
all who should pay such dues as guilty of high treason. 

When the Captain of the Guard arrived at the House he 
found it empty. The doors were unlocked. Its members 
had adjourned almost immediately after recording their vote 
upon the last of these three matters. So bold a step upon 
the part of the Conmions of England, which scarcely a cen- 
tury since had only been as mouthpieces to give utterance to 
the wishes of the Sovereign in matters regarding the taxa- 
tion of the people, ought to have admonished Charles Stuart 
that the representatives of the nation had now begun to feel 
their own power. It was but an augury of that which must 
ultimately follow if he persisted in the course which he had 



1867.] BIB CHARAOTU AND OOVBRNHSNT. 251 

80 blindly and fattiitously commenced. Opposition had 
inaugurated itself. It remained for him to make that oppo- 
sition more bitter and to give it more permanence, or to 
quell and calm it. The lust would require an astute and 
selMenying policy. The former demanded only obedience 
to the promptings of his inner will. This it was which the 
monarch now adopted. 

Deaf to that warning which had been so unmistakably 
given him, he went down to the House of Lords upon 
the following day — ^it was the 10th of March. In a short 
and angry speech be dissolved the Parliament. In this ad- 
dress he complained to them, bitterly and angrily, of the 
Lower House. " In it," said he, •* there are certain vipers 
which must look for their reward." Accordingly, it was 
upon the next day that Sir John Elliott, Hobbs, William 
Strode, and others, were arrested, heavily fined, and impri- 
soned. Almost immediately afterwards Cromwell returned 
to Huntingdon. This was the last Parliament that met and 
deliberated in England for more than eleven years. 

One of Oliver's aunts had married William Hampden, of 
Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire. At his death he had left 
his widow with two sons. These were John and Richard 
Hampden. It was with the former of these two cousins 
that Cromwell had become intimate after that change in his 
opinions which had gradually developed and formed his 
character during the years in which, after his marriage, he 
had been dwelling near Huntingdon. 

In his relations with his friends, John Hampden was 
quiet and amiable. He was eminently sincere in his nature 
and modest in his deportment. No great talker, he was an 
eminently good listener. Under this exterior lay a fund of 
deeper and more hidden feeling, which required necessity to 
develop it. A fearless will and a ready determination to 
confront either moral or physical difficulties were prepared to 
make themselves apparent when appealed to by such a ne- 
cessity ; and such a necessity was it that now summoned him 
to act, for it was destined that John Hampden should be the 
man to give the signal of resistance to the arbitrary meas- 
ures ot bis monarch. Charles had determined upon collect- 
ing the tax which the Commons had refused to pass in 
defiance of their will. It so happened that amongst the first 
who were called upon to pay their proportion of it was 
John Hampden. The amount which was demanded from 
him was twenty shillings. Quietly, but resolutely, he 



253 OUTER cftOMVEU., [March, 

refused to pay it. Necessarily, the question was carried 
into the courts of law. But in those days it must not be 
supposed that law was what it has since become. The 
greatest might was then the greatest right ; and the word of 
the Sovereign, although it might invariably shape the law, 
dictated in every case its opplication. Accordingly, the 
judges decided against him by a majority of eight to four. 
Our only wonder is that at this time even four judges could 
have been found who had honesty enough to register their 
decision in his favor. But although the suit was decided 
against him, a broader court of appeal justified the course 
which he had adopted. This was the people of England, 
who hailed him as the victor in that brief struggle in the 
face of this decision. His name became dear to every 
patriot. Thus it was that the family of Cromwell com- 
meoced the strife between the nation and its monarch 
which his hand was to conduct to its termination. Pre* 
destined to this work, he was not as yet fully conscious of its 
necessity. It yet lay within the womb of the future. But 
its awakening throes made themselves felt with a portentous, 
although at present an isolated, energy, which ought to 
have forewarned the doomed Sovereign from treading that 
path which he so madly seemed bent upon pursuing. 

It was in 1631 that Cromwell quitted the neighborhood 
of Huntingdon and took up his residence at St. Ives, where 
he principally occupied himself in farming. Meanwhile those 
troubles which had commenced to agitate England continued 
rapidly upon the increase. The attempt which had been 
made by Charles to dispense with the parliamentary form 
of government, and to rule his kiugdom by his own will 
rapidly impelled him to have recourse to more arbitrary 
measures. 

But a portion of the higher nobility took the alarm. A 
liberty of spirit which had until this time been unknown 
manifested itself in the upper classes. Some of the greater 
lords marked their unequivocal disapprobation of the recent 
measures of the Court by quitting London and retiring to 
their estates. That literary spirit which had awakened in 
England during the reign of Elizabeth now occupied itself 
with the discussions of graver questions, and examined mat- 
ters of deeper import than those which had previously oc- 
cupied it : while, further still from the Court, men who were 
less distinguished by rank and less capable by learning en- 
tertained opinions which were more narrow, yet, at the 



1867.] HIS CHARACTSR AND OOYIRNMINT. 25S 

same time, far more decided. It was, indeed, in the middle 
class of the nobility and among the gentry that the feeling 
was more obviously declared. The difference of rank had 
gradually lost that power which it had formerly asserted. 
Regarding themselves as the descehdants of those who had 
conquered the Magna Charta of England, they were indignant 
at seeing their rights, their persons, their freedom of 
thought and action, and their goods, delivered over to the 
pleasure of the King, and those counsellors who were urging 
him along upon his untoward and luckless path. 

About this period was it that Prynne, a barrister of Li ncol n's 
Inn, a second time incurred the displeasure of the Court ; 
Some time since he had been condemned to lose both his 
ears for having published a work called " Histriomcutyx*^ 
or the ** Scourge of Players." Now, at this period, masques, 
balls, and plays formed the favorite amusement of the Queen ; 
hence the punishment which had been inflicted upon this 
insolent libeller by a court of justice, which did no more 
than reflect the will and prejudices of the government. 
The reason which now drew down the indignation of those 
in power upon the head of Prynne was his publication of a 
second work. This was written against church hierarchy. 
He was again condemned by the chief justice. Finch, to lose 
his ears ; and having none, the stumps of those which were 
left from his former punishment, were sawn off. " I had 
thought," said the chief justice, with a fierce smile of pre- 
tend^ astonishment, '^ that iMr. Prynne had no ears." The 
victim of this barbarous sentence lifted his hand to heaven 
as he replied to him : ^' I pray to G-od, honored sir, that he 
give you ears to hear with ! " 

English discontent had during this period rapidly in- 
creased. The Earl of Strafford, who had been the Minister 
of Charles during the latter portion of that period which 
had added so greatly to the unpopularity of his govern- 
ment, was at this time the especial object of the hatred 
of the people. Yet it was by his advice, strengthened as it 
was by the pecuniary necessities of the monarch, that writs 
were at length issued for a new Parliament. The nation 
had long demanded this ; yet they knew that it was sum- 
moned, not in obedience to their wishes, but simply in con- 
sequence of the wants of Charles. Can that spirit be for 
one moment doubtful which now animated them ? 

Cromwell was returned to this Parliament for Cambridge. 
The House met for the first time upon the 11th of March, 



254 OLIVER CROMWELL, [March, 

1640. Rumors were circulated of every description respect- 
ing the intentions of the representatives of the people. It 
is nevertheless obvious that neither the King nor his Minis- 
ter could have had the slightest suspicion of that which was 
soon to follow. After various discussions of minor import- 
ance, but all of Ihem tending to lessen the royal power, a 
bill of attainder was at length brought against the latter. 
The King as yet stood too high above them. Consequently, 
the indignation which was fielt at his misgovernment im- 
peached his servant, and Strafford was put upon bis trial for 
high treason. He was condemned to lose his head upon 
the block, and Charles was compelled to affix his sign-man- 
ual to the death warrant of the Earl on Monday, the 10th of 
May, 1641. When the unfortunate Strafford heard of the 
King's assent to his execution, he exclaimed in the bitterness 
of his heart: ^' Put not your trust in princ<»s, nor iu the 
sons of men, for in them there is no salvation.'' 

This compulsory assent — ^for it cannot be doubted that 
Charles suffered more than bitterly in being made an acces- 
sory to the death of the minister whose great crime had been 
serving him too well — was wrung from the monarch both 
by his fears and his necessities. It must, however, have been 
with an undescribably fearful pang that be traced the letters 
of his name, whose signature was to give effect to the sen- 
tence of condemnation. It does not appear that Oliver 
Cromwell was in any way connected specially with these 
proceedings against the Earl. In all probability, the stern 
Puritan revolted from the thought of spilling the blood of one 
who had only acted as the servant of his monarch. Even then 
the thought may have crossed him, as the axe was grinding 
which was to take Strafford's head from his shoulders, that it 
might with far greater justice have been whetted were it 
destined to fall upon another and a loftier neck. 

Charles visited Scotland in the August following. It is 
more than probable that this visit was dictated by his wish to 
procure the proofs of a correspondence which was at this 
time being carried on between the English Parliament and 
the Scotch Covenanters. If so, his journey was of no avail. 
Conscience was at work against him, and that conscience is 
alike impervious to threat or promise. Personal advantage 
weighs with it no more than extraneous fear. He was con- 
sequently obliged to return to England. 

Not long after this journey and brief visit to Scotland 
was it that a sudden rebellion broke out in Ireland. This 



1867.] HIS CHARACrSR AND OOTEByMEXT. 255 

was accompanied by the most horrible barbarities. Blood 
flowed without stint or let. Men, women, and children were 
alike sacrificed. Although this was a rebellion against the 
government, it was said to be sanctioned by the King's 
name, which wus proclaimed by the leaders in the outbreak 
to be appended to a letter which had been addressed to 
them. 

A strong remonstrance was addressed by the Commons 
to the Kingy who turned a deaf ear towards it. Both parties 
now began to feel that a struggle was rapidly approaching, 
and commenced silently to prepare for the contest, which they 
felt might no longer be avoided. In pursuance of this, a bill 
was proposed in the Lower House on the 7th of December 
in the same year, that the organization of the militia and the 
nomination of its officers should only take place with the 
concurrence of Parliament. Necessary as this was under 
present circumstances, it was obvious that it undermined the 
royal power. Many of the members of that portion of the 
nobility which but a few years since had quitted the Court 
now returned to London and rallied round the King. Li 
the almost constant collisions of the two parties, the terms 
Cavaliers and Roundheads were first applied, the latter 
taking its rise from the peculiar style oi cropping their 
hair which had recently been affected by the Puritans. 
Brawls between them now became of almost daily occur- 
rence. These occasionally ended in strife and bloodshed. 
The general temper of the English capital offered an ample 
testimony that this state of things could not long continue. 
In addition to this, the return of the greater proportion of 
the nobility and the very inclination which was displayed by 
many of the most considerable amongst them to support their 
Sovereign reinspired Charles with courage, and on the 3d of 
January, in 1642, he summoned the Lower House to give up 
to him five of their members. These were Pym, Hampden, 
Holies, Strode, and Harding. On the day following it 
was announced to the Commons that the King was advanc- 
ing upon St. Stephens for the purpose of seizing these mem- 
bers. He was escorted by three or four hundred armed men. 
Shortly afterwards he entered the House and advanced to the 
Speaker's chair. His head was covered. The Members arose 
from their seats and stood uncovered before him. 

Trembling with choler and perchance with some fear as 
to the ultimate results of that course which he had now so 
conclusively entered upon, Charles cast a hasty and impe- 



266 ouYiR cRommu^ [March, 

riou8 glance around the chamber. He could not see the men 
whom he had come to seize. Taking advantage of the warn- 
ing the Parliament had received, they had already absented 
themselves. *^ Since I see," he said, after a brief pause, dur- 
ing which the members of the House still remained standing, 
" the birds are flown, I expect that you will find and send 
them to me. Otherwise, I must take my own course to find 
them." Having said this, he descended the steps leading from 
the Speaker's chair and quitted the chamber. The members 
remained looking at each other in sombre doubt as to the way 
" this, which had here begun, was ultimately to end in." 

And yet to us who look upon these circumstances after 
the lapse of more than two hundred years, it seems that 
scarcely a doubt could rationally have been entertained. 
This very moment commenced that revolution the seeds of 
whose spirit had already been so extensively sown. Hence- 
forward the King and the Parliament were decidedly and 
unequivocally opposed. Tip to the present moment the 
commonalty of England had taken little or no part in the 
national development. Perhaps it might with more propri- 
ety be affirmed that they had not manifested their capacity 
and power to exert a st^y and controlling momentum upon 
its progress. But this commonalty was now emerging from 
its tutelage, and was about, for the first time, to take into its 
own hands in the seventeenth century that which it had 
heretofore allowed to be effected by the nobility. The only 
secure policy which Charles Stuart could have now adopted 
would have been a retrogressive one; but neither his own will 
nor the spirit which actuated his more intimate advisers 
could Jiscern the wisdom of so doing. 

At this period Cromwell had attained the age of forty-two 
years. He had six children. These were 01iver,Richard,Henry, 
Bridget, Elizabeth, and Mary. Francis Cromwell was subse* 
quently bom to him. He had been, and indeed always was, 
a good and tender, but firm and authoritative, parent. Essen- 
tially until this period a man of peace and occupied with 
the pursuits and habits of a country life, he had farmed and, 
perhaps, read some little. Among the fields &nd green 
trees and sloping hills of his own tranquil home had his 
mind been silently shapen and matured. Never having even 
thought of the profession of arms, he would seem to have 
been one of the fast men whom necessity might have selected 
for or trained into a soldier. 

Disturbed in their homes by the voice of discontent, the 



1867.] HIS CHABAOTXR AND OOVBBNMBNT. 257 

gentry and the yeomanry of England had called on their Mon- 
arch not to disappoint the expectations of his subjects. When 
with a blinded soul and a contemptuous spirit Charles I had 
turned away and refused to listen to them, his doom was 
sealed. The hour had at length come. 

Volunteers were raised on all sides. Cromwell felt the 
call of his country and responded to it. He offered ^€300 to the 
exigencies of the Parliament. When we remember his income 
and recall the value of money at that period, this must be 
considered a large sum. But Oliver did more. Raising two 
companies of volunteers at Cambridge, he girded his sword 
upon his thigh and, accompanied by his two eldest sons, 
joined that army which the Parliament was already collecting. 
It was a time which imperatively demanded sacrifices. These 
were paade by Cromwell without a murmur. Long past 
that age at which ambition is most active in all of us, the 
homely farmer became the active soldier. 

The royal standard was planted at Nottingham on the 
*22d of August, in ie)42, and the Monarch of England called 
his subjects to arms. At no great distance from him the 
Earl of Essex was occupied in effecting the organization of 
the Parliamentary forces. When Cromwell joined him, he 
was at once made a captain. But the frankness of the man 
disdained to deceive his followers. Showing them his com- 
mission, he said : ^* Soldiers, I will not deceive you nor 
make you believe, as my commission hath it, that you are go- 
ing to fight for the King and the Parliament. If the King 
were in front of me, I would as soon shoot him as another. 
If your conscience will not allow you to do as much, go and 
serve elsewhere.'' These are his words as they are given to 
us by a royalist historian. Did we not feel that th^e must 
have been truly his, we should not have cited them. More 
strongly than anything else could do, they mark the hard, ro- 
bust, and self-reliant nature of the man's mind. Once em- 
barked in the cause of the people, once convinced that to en- 
sure their happiness and religious liberty blows must be 
struck, he never hesitated between his two allegiances. 
With a vigorous will and an uncompromising spirit he thrust 
the form of royalty aside from him and acknowledged no 
monarch but Q-od. 

The battle of Edgehill was the first positive collision that 
occurred between the King and the Parliament. Their 
troops met upon the 23d of October, in the same year, and 
a battle was fought which led to no very definite or decisive 

VOL. XIV — ^NO. XXVIII. 4 



258 ouYfiB OBOMWBLL, [March, 

result for either party. Shortly after this the troops retired 
into winter quarters — the army of the King occupying the 
country which lay around Oxford, while that of the Parlia- 
ment held possession of London and the surrounding dis- 
tricts. The winter now gradually passed away, and the 
spring of the succeeding year opened upon the continuance 
of the war. 

With the usual yariability of feeling which marks the 
first efforts of a struggling nation, the popular party, already 
discouraged by their want of immediate success, began to 
doubt and reason upon the probable results of their efforts 
to control the power of their monarch. Murmui^B and com- 
plaints began to be heard upon every side. Cromwell 
alone, at this time, would appear to have divined and dis- 
tinctly appreciated the positive causes of their weakness. It 
was the intuitive perception of a great military leader that 
began to dawn upon his mind and opened his eyes to that 
which is at present so obviously apparent — the reason of 
their apparent failure. A letter of his is still extant which 
was written at this period. This letter is addressed to John 
Hampden. In it he speaks thus : " Tour troops are most 
of them dfcayed serving-men, tapsters, and such kind of 
fellows ; and there are gentlemen's sons, younger sons, and 
persons uf quality. But I will remedy that. I will raise men 
who will have the fear oF Otod before their eyes, and who 
will bring some conscience to what they do ; and I promise 
you they shall not be beaten." Are not these the words of 
a man who already seems to feel that it is his spirit which 
must be the pervading impulse in this war? 

About this time he lost a friend and relative — one of the 
few m^ with whom he had been wont to commune from 
his inner soul, and who had learned to know him thoroughly. 
This was John Hampden. A skirmish of cavalry had oc- 
curred on the ISth of June, a few miles from Oxford. 
Before the close Hampden had quitted the field. As he rode 
out of the mSlee his head was hanging down and bis hand 
was leaning heavily upon the neck of his charger. He died 
upon the 24th of the same month. It would, of course, be 
impossible now to say what influence he might have exerted, 
haa he lived, upon the mind of Cromwell. 

For the purpose,' it may be presumed, of giving his 
actions the appearance- of legality, Charles, early in th*e 
ensuing year, summoned the Parliament to assemble in the 
city of Oxford. A portion of it obeyed him and met there 



1867.] HIS CHARAOTSB AKD OOVIRNMSSIT. 259 

on the 22d of Janaary. Forty-four of the peers and one 
hundred and eighteen of the commons were present upon 
this occasion. After having held a session of somewhat less 
than three months, the King adjourned it. He had been 
accustomed to call it his " Mongrel Parliament/' and stig- 
matized it as " cowardly and seditious." It was summoned 
to meet him no more. The Parliament which, at this time, 
was sitting in London, consisted of twenty -two peers and 
two hundred and eighty of the commons — more than a 
hundred of its actual members being absent and employed 
upon the service of the state. 

It was in January that the Scotch army entered England, 
being invited thither by the Parliament. Their march must 
have been a very toilsome and arduous one, as a deep snow 
lay upon the ground, which in many portions of it rose 
over the knees of their horses. They joined the Parliament- 
ary troops in the North, and, after several months spent in 
minor operations advanced to and besieged York, which was 
strongly garrisoned and had the Marquis of Newcastle as 
its Governor. Prince Rupert flew to its relief. As ho 
approached the city the Parliamentary leaders raised the 
siege in the hope of preventing him from entering it. By a 
masterly march he foiled their endeavors to hinder him 
from joining the garrison, and appeared within the city. 
Here he saw the Marquis, who strongly advised him to be 
content with his success. Discord was at the present 
moment rife in the Parliamentary camp. The Scotch and 
English troops could not agree. Old animosities not yet 
appeased under the reign of the first Stuart prompted daily 
differences. Moreover, the religious element was a fruitful 
source of disquietude. The Presbyterians and Independents 
mutually disliked each other. In addition to this, a rein- 
forcement of three thousand men was expected. Rupert 
replied rudely in the manner which was habitual to him. 
He said that his orders from the King were imperative. On 
the 2d of July he commanded his troops to march upon 
the enemy. 

He halted on the plain almost within musket-shot of the 
army of the Parliament. For more than two hours his soldiers 
and the enemy remained underarmscontemplating each other. 
Rupert was inspecting the ground and arranging his plan of 
attack. At length the word was given, and his troops ad* 
vaneed, crossing the ditches with which the plain was 
intersected and bearing down upon the enemy. The Scotch 



260 uLiTBB CBOMWCLL, [March, 

cavalry formed its right wiDg« and theBe* after a brief but 
Bharp conflict, were totally dispersed. Fairfax who was the 
Parliamentary general, vainly endeavored to restrain them 
from flying from the field of battle. In less than an hour 
the tidings of the complete defeat of the Parliamentary army 
were so widely spread that a courier bore the news of it to 
Oxford. Bonfires were lit in the streets of that city, and for 
some hours its royalist population abandoned themselves to 
their joy. 

While, however, the victorious Cavaliers were pursuing 
the routed wing of the enemy^ their own right, although 
commanded by Prince Rupert in person, had undergone a 
similar fate. A greater man than the Prince was now 
opposed to him. This was Cromwell. Charging with his 
wonted reckless impetuosity, Rupert was met by the soldiers 
of the stern Republican. They were as a wall of steel. 
In vain did the fiery leader ot the Royalist troops hurl 
them against the enemy. The nervous spirit of his antago-^ 
nist seemed to have grown into the intrepid soul of a 
valiant warrior. His voice rang athwart the tumult and 
his sword struck heavily in the strire. After a terrible 
struggle, Rupert was compelled to yield. The Parliament- 
ary infantry, which was also victorious, completed his defeat. 
But Cromwell forbade all pursuit, and collected his cavalry 
for the purpose of awaiting the return of the troops who 
had dispersed the Scotch. Worn out with the pursuit, their 
horses jaded, and their swords dripping with blood, the Cav- 
aliers returned. A brief and glorious charge decided the 
fortune of the day. Scattered before him, the straggling 
Royalists were chased from the field, and the battle of 
Marston Moor first traced the name of Cromwell imper- 
ishably upon the page of English history. 

Upon the same night the Marquis of Newcastle quitted 
the city of York. He hurried to Scarborough, whence on 
the following day he embarked for the Continent. Prince 
Rupert collected the shattered remains of his army and 
marched towards Chester. York capitulated at the end of 
fifteen days. 

When the tidings of this defeat reached the army of the 
King, the whole of the Court were struck, as it were, dumb 
with grief and fear. Their own successes against the Earl of 
Essex had induced them to reckon upon a speedy and 
triumphant termination of the war. For the first time* 
perhaps, they recognized the full vigor of that spirit which 



1867.] HIS CHABACTKR AND QOYERNUBXT. 261 

had at length thoroughly awakened, and possibly foresaw 
the long train of evils to which they had so blindly exposed 
themselves. On the contrary, in London the Independent 
party were almost wild with joy. Even the Presbyterians 
shared their triumph. The military talent of Cromwell had 
achieved a brilliant success for the nation. Tiie •• Ironsides " 
— ^for such was the name now bestowed by the popular feeling 
upon the squadrons of the Parliamentary leader — had over- 
come the Cavaliers under one of their most gallant generals. 
Should they now speak of peace as a necessity ? 

Nor were the consequences of this victory worthless to 
the nation. Its results were not confined to the reputation 
of the hardy soldier who had gained it. Nor were the hun- 
dred banners which his troops had taken from the enemy and 
rent into fragments to form bandages for the wo>inded its 
only fruits. 

The whole of the North of England was at once aban- 
doned by the forces who fought for Charles Stuart. There 
the Parliament became immediately paramount. His queen 
fled into France in spite of that warning which had a short 
time before been pi-offered her by the Cardinal Richelieu — 
not to quit the country with whose interests her own had 
been bound up by marriage if she ever calculated upon re- 
turning to it. His astute and reaching genius had already 
partially foreseen the possible result of that conflict into 
which she had so unfortunately urged the English king. 

It was in vain that a partial success in the Western por- 
tion of his realm had smiled upon the arms of theEing, and that 
the Earl of Essex, who commanded the Parliamentary army, 
had, af);cr various defeats, been ultimately compelled to lay 
down his arms and surrender to the Royal forces. Only when 
the news came to him of the brilliant successes of the Marquis, 
of Montrose in Scotland did he seem partially to reassume his 
courage. This nobleman, the account of whose exploits would 
seem more like the romantic legend woven by some dealer in 
chivalric lore than the dry and matter-of-fact details of reality, 
had, shortly after the battle of Marston Moor, crossed the 
frontiers of Scotland and appeared in the county of Athol. 
This long and toilsome journey he had made on foot, accom- 
panied only by two friends, and attired in the humble garb of a 
domestic. Hewas at once recognized by his clan,among whom 
the doctrinal rigor and practical license of the Presbyterians 
had as yet utterly failed to obtain a footing. Gathering them 
together, he had immediately taken the field at their head on 



262 ouTiE OBOMWBLL, [March, 

behalf of his Monarch. He required everything from their 
courage and devotion to himself, while he abandoned every- 
thing to their avidity. Scarcely more than two days had 
elapsed ere he had gained two battles. After this he had 
occupied Perth, taken Aberdeen by assault, and raised the 
whole of the Highlanders throughout the lower portion of the 
north of Scotland. Fear and terror had been everywhere 
aown by him up to the very gates of Edinburgh. No sooner 
had the King received this intelligence than his spirits par- 
tially revived. He determined upon forthwith advancing 
against the English capital. 

Everything seemed at the time to be favorable to this 
movement. The defeated troops of Essex and the greater 
portion of the Northern Army of the Parliament were 
gathered in its neighborhood under the command of the 
Duke of Manchester. But their discontent at the manner 
in which their pay had baen suffered to fall into arrearage 
had inspired the Royalist leaders with the most lively hopes 
of putting an end to the war at a single blow. In this con- 
juncture, wanting money and fearing to leave their soldieiB 
unpaid at such a moment, the Parliament determined on 
seizing upon the whole of the royal plate which was de- 
posited in the Tower of London. This was accordingly 
done, and it was melted for the purpose of supplying their 
present necessities. 

Charles had already reached Newbui^, when the Parlia- 
mentary army at length marched against him. A Jong 
and bloody, but indecisive, battle ensued there. This took 
place on the 27th of October. Both sides claimed the 
victory. Tet upon the morrow Charles moved northward 
with the intention, a second time, of taking up his winter 
quarters in Oxford. 

The clamor which was addressed to the Parliament by 
all of the parties who had taken their side in the contest 
became very general, and in the Lower House Cromwell 
added his testimony to the imputations which were 
urged against Manchester. He said that the indecisive 
result of the late struggle at Newbury was wholly to be 
imputed to him, and that he was literally afraid of vanquish- 
ing. Nothing, as he alleged, could have been more easy 
than the destruction of the army of the King. Ho had in 
vain solicited permission to begin the battle, and when the 
Duke had refused this, he had said that if Charles' arm v were 
destroyed he would atill be the King and might readily find 



1861.] HIS CHASACTBR AKD aOYBBKMENT. . 263 

another ; whereas, were they once beaten, they woald be re- 
garded as merely rebels and traitors, and would infallibly be 
condemned and executed, if taken, by virtue of the law. 
On the morrow, in the Upper Chamber, Manchester replied 
to this attack. He repelled the accusation in every point 
and attempted to justify his conduct In a loud and angry 
voice he in turn accused Cromwell of treachery, falsehood, 
disobedience, and neglect of his orders. He affirmed that 
on the day of the battle neither himself nor his regiment had 
appeared at the post which he had assigned them. To this 
retort Cromwell vouchsafed no reply. He simply and coldly 
repeated his accusation. <^^ 

For some time past Cromwell had been steadily gain^ 
iog upon the public attention. His military reputation^ 
which had been so rapidly and brilliantly achieved by a man 
to whom soldiery had been a new and untried field for exer- 
tion, had gradually fixed the popular eye upon him, and, on 
the return of the Army of the North, his capabilities as a 
leader had been generally discussed. His calmness in battle 
and his presence of mind were warmly extolled by the 
soldiery. They said that his charges were made with the 
rapidity and effect of lightning. In his Drfenno Secundaj 
Milton says of him : *' From his thorough exercise in the art 
of self-knowledge he had either exterminated or subdued 
hi-« domestic foes, his idle hopes, his fears, and his desires. 
Having thus learned to engage, to subdue, and to triumph 
over himself, he took the field against his outward enemies, 
a soldier practised in all the discipline of war.*' Bat in 
addition to his military qualities he was a sound speaker, 
and his political knowledge excelled that of most of bis con- 
temporaries. He had ever openly declared his opinions to 
be in fav^or of the most perfect liberty of conscience. Is it 
any wonder that this man should have begun to excite the 
alarms of the dominant party in the Parliament ? 

At the commencement of 1645, Archbishop Laud, who had 
been long imprisoned, was executed upon Tower Hill ; anfl 
shortly after the Liturgy of the Anglican Church was defini- 
tively abolished. The two parties m the Parliament, Pres- 
byterians and Independents, alike concurred in both these 
measures. Nor indeed was it long after this that negotiations 
commenced at Uxbridge between the contending parties. 
These continued for some time and seemed tending to peace. 
They were, however, broken off suddenly by the King, who 
bad received a letter from Montrose giving him information 



264 oiiTiR CBOMirKLL, [MaTch 

of a great victory which he had gained over the Earl of 
Argyle. In it he implored his monarch not to entangle 
himself with any negotiations, and intimated that along time 
would not now elapse before he should be both ready and 
able to come to his assistance. Those members who had 
been deputed by the Parliament to confer with Charles con- 
sequently returned at once to London, and the last chance 
which presented itself to the monarch for treating with hi< 
incensed subjects while he yet stood in a position where, to 
a certain extent, he could have dictated terms, was by his 
own will wantonly and recklessly cast behind him. A few 
months only were to elapse before Montrose was to be van- 
quished and a fugitive. 

About the beginning of April Fairfax was named to th3 
command of the Parliamentary army. He went sedulously 
to work, assisted by Cromwell, in forming it, and at the close 
of this month announced that in a few days he should be pre- 
pared to opin the campaign. It was at this time that the 
iamous ordinance was passed by both Houses which 
excluded all who were members of Parliament from 
holding commands in the army. Not a doubt can now exist 
that this ordinance was solely and exclusively directed against 
the man whom they had already begun to fear. Hostilities 
had once more broken out. Oliver would not return his 
sword to .its sheath, and Fairfax wrote to the Parliament de* 
daring that he could not and would not dispense with ser- 
vices which were so valuable to him. Nor need we marvel 
that the general should have made this declaration, when we 
learn that the King not long after exclaimed, in his irritation 
at the success which invariably accompanied him : *' Who is 
there that will bring me this Cromwell, dead or alive ? " 

Orders had been given Fairfax to invest Oxford « and he 
was advancing against it when intelligence was brought him 
that Charles had taken Leicester and was besieging Taunton. 
He immediately decided upon marching in search of him, 
.and on the evening of the iSth of June his scouts brought 
him intelligence, when he was in the neighborhood of North- 
ampton, that the King was near Naseby. He instatitly 
marched upon the field, which decided the fate of the English 
crown. 

The battle was fought upon the 14th. Cromwell com- 
manded the right wing of the Parliamentary army, and, as 
be had done at Marstou Moor, vanquished the troops who 
were opposed to him. In the meantime Prince Rupert had 



1867.] HIS CHARAOrSR AND OOTBRNICBNT. 265 

swept the left wing from the field. Unable, however, to 
profit by the lesson which had so roughly been given him in 
that battle, be suffered his men to disperse in pursuit of the 
flying foe. This error upon the part of one of the principal 
generals of the Royalists at once enabled Cromwell to turn 
the whole of his troops upon their centre, which was com- 
manded by the King in person, and assist Fairfax in com- 
pletely routing them. The victory, however, was bloodily 
contested. Charles fought there, and whatever may have 
been his faults, on this occasion he fought gallantly. At 
length, however, he was obliged to quit the field, and fled. 
The arms of the. Parliament were again victorious, and the 
field of Naseby proved fatal to all the hopes and expectations 
of the Royalists. 

Among the other spoils which fell into the hands of the 
conquerors after the battle was the King's private cabinet of 
letters and papers. This was immediately sent to London 
unopened. It was there broken open and its contents were 
carefully examined. Among the letters which it contained 
were several which gave the clearest proof that Charles, 
while emphatically denying that he did so, had constantly, 
during the late disturbances in the kingdom, been engaged in 
soliciting assistance from the principal powers of the Con- 
tinent. 

After a brief debate, the Parliament determined upon 
the publication of these letters. Under the title of the 
"King's Cabinet Opened," they completed the ruin of 
Charles in the minds of the people. Shortly after this battle 
Prince Rupert had retreated upon Bristol. This city he 
entered by the orders of Charles for the purpose of defend- 
ing it from the Parliamentary army, which was advancing 
towards it. It was taken by assault upon the 14th of Sep- 
tember in the same year. 

The King was now a fugitive, or comparatively so, as 
the greater portion of his troops had been despersed at 
Naseby or broken up at the termination of the siege of 
Bristol. He wished again to open negotiations with the 
Parliament, and caused it to be intimated to them that he 
was ready to do so. His ofiers were at once indignantly 
refused. Later in the year he again retired to Oxford, but 
quitted it in disguise, with only a few followers, at the com- 
mencement of 1646. Wandering from castle to castle, and 
trying almost hopelessly to raise another army amongst 
those of his adherents who were yet iaithful to their fallen 



266 OUYBR CBomrKLL, [March, 

sovereign, he at length surrendered to the Scotch army who 
were stationed at Newark, and at the close of • the year was 
given up by them to the English Parliament for the pajrment 
of ^£400,000. After receiving this sum they once more 
returned to their own country. 

From this moment the two parties that we have already 
noticed as existing in the Parliament sundered more widely. 
In the House itself the Presbyterians were numerically, as 
they were in rank and personal importance, the strongest 
party. They were bent upon imposing on the nation a 
form of church government which should in every point 
coincide with their own' views. An intolerance of every 
other form of religious worship dictated this desire. It 
was, therefore, obvious that with this party neither the 
Episcopalian nor Catholic predilections of their monarch 
could meet with any toleration. The army, on the contrary, 
was composed chiefly of men of a widely different stamp. 
Singularly enough it was here that the independence of 
religion was the most decidedly felt and the most evidently 
desired. 

The first time that these found an actual voice was in the 
demand which was addressed to the Lower House for the 
arrears of pay which were due to them by the soldiery. 
Oliver, who had recently retaken his seat, was deputed by 
the Commons to reason with and quiet them. This he did, 
and was honored upon his return with a vote of thanks. 
But, in spite of this, matters became every day more 
serious, and it was evident to the leaders of the army that 
80 long as the King remained in the hands of the Parliament 
the very possession of his name gave an increased strength to 
the Presbyterian party which was enabling them by degrees 
to engross the whole power of the realm. Under these 
circumstances action became necessary ; and on the 3nd of 
June, 1647, an event occurred which changed the position 
of the parties, and threw the strength which was still pos- 
sessed by the name of Charles into the hands of the Inde- 
Jendents. A body of men under the command of Cornet 
oyce, and amounting to four hundred in number, proceeded 
to Holmby House, where the King was then staying, and 
bore him away with them. Apparently the army seemed 
to foresee that struggle which must ultimately take place 
and was then approaching, although it is more than probable 
that the foresight which dictated this step was that of its 
leaders. 



1861.] HIS CHARAOTCB AND aOTlRNXIMT. 367 

Necessarily, this dariog act increased the jealousy and 
dread which began to be felt by the Presbyterian party ; and 
it was, we may imagine, in consequence of this that on the 
10th of June the principal officers of the army, including 
Cromwell, Fairfax, Hammond, Treton, Lambert,' and others, 
wrote a letter to the Lord Mayor and Common Council of 
the city of London, demanding satisfaction for their claims 
as soldiers, protesting against the misrepresentations which 
had been made, declaring that their cause could not be 
separated from that of the Parliament and the people, and 
desiring an immediate ** settlement of the peace of the king- 
dom and the liberty of the subject.*' Religious liberty was 
evidently the principal point dwelt upon in this manifesto. 
It consented that Presbyterianism should be the State 
religion, but it demanded the full enjoyment af civil and 
religious rights for all Englishmen. Their blood had been 
shed for the Parliament, and they thought it strange that the 
Parliament should wish in return to give them no liberty 
but that of expatriation. 

Beyond any doubt this petition proceeded from the pen 
of Cromwell. It was conceived and written in terms which 
were equally characterized by wisdom, moderation, and 
justice. No desire was expressed to intermeddle with the 
settling of the Presbyterian form of government. Nothing 
could be more temperate than the form of its phraseology. 

However, this moderation in the temper of the army was 
of short duration. On the 16th of June it boldly accused 
eleven members of the House of Commons of high treason. 
When the accusation was laid before the Parliament, it was 
struck dumb with astonishment. None knew what answer 
they should make. The army, which had heretofore been 
nothing but a mere instrument in their hands, had spoken 
with a voice which they were compelled to hear. The 
members who had been named asked permission to retire 
fro D their duties for six months, and this was granted them. 
Possibly this is one of the epochs in Cromwell's life 
which has been most severely handled. He has been repre- 
sented by history as having fomented this discord with the 
view of sundering more definitely the army and the Parlia- 
ment. This cannot be believed by any who scrutinize his 
previous and subsequent conduct. As an Independent him- 
self, it was palpable that he must honestly have dreaded the 
determination of the Presbyterians to impose their form of 
worship upon the English nation. As a soldier, and a gal- 



268 ouvEB CROXWELL, [Marcb, 

lant one, he cannot but have felt that having less need for the 
army, the House was disposed to rid itself of their importu- 
nities; while, as a politician, he must have known the utter 
incapacity of it as at present constituted to provide for or 
to deal with the wants of the nation. His enemies have said 
that he was a man upon whom none could reckon. He has 
been accused of daily changing his conduct and his language, 
and being entirely occupied with the desire in any case to 
be the chief of that great movement which, at this period, 
was convulsing the whole of England. 

Those of his adherents and personal supporters who still 
remained faithfully attached to the fortunes of their fallen 
Prince grew daily bolder and more active. Someof them were, 
perchance, encouraged by the apparent neglect with which 
the Parliament had treated them ; while others, suffering 
from the heavy fines and forfeitures which had been imposed 
upon them, and dreading the imprisonment, with its probable 
results, to which their fellows were and would be subjected, 
were equally inclined to embark in another struggle. In the 
spring of 1648, discontent, openly broke out amongst them, 
linked with a portion of the Presbyterians both in Kent and 
Wales. Officers who had gained distinction in the service 
of the Parliament openly associated themselves with this 
party and joined the Royal flag. Scarcely had this intelli- 
gence reached London than the information also reached it 
that a levy of 40,000 men had been voted by the Scotch 
Parliament for the defence and liberation of their imprisoned 
monarch. When they heard this the Royalists in the North 
of England rose simultaneously, while in Ireland even those 
chieftains who had hitherto supported the Parliament 
determined upon raising the standard of the King. In 
London itself, levies were made for him, and armed bands 
marched through the metropolis for the purpose of joining 
and strengthening the insurrectionary forces. 

On the arrival of all this threatening intelligence the 
Parliament gazed around them to search for a man who was 
fit to deal with the perils of the emergency. Only one in 
whom they could trust for victory and safety might be found. 
Orders were accordingly given Cromwell to depart for 
Wales. These orders he obeyed, and with that fiery 
promptitude which almost invariably characterized his mili- 
tary actions. He immediately marched direct upon the 
principality at the head of five regiments. The Royalist 
army, which had already been levied in Scotland, crossed the 



1867.] HIS CHARACTER AND GOVBRNUEKr. 269 

frontier which divided it from its sister kingdom upon the 
gthof July. 

Three days only after Oliver had halted before Pembroke 
Castle, it surrendered to him, and the tidings were brought to 
his camp that the Scotch army had entered England. His 
troops were ill supplied with food and all other necessaries, 
while the military chest was comparatively destitute of 
money. Nevertheless his determination was at once taken ; 
it was to march immediately upon the North. 

Accordingly, on the following morning the victor hastened 
thitherward with his ill-clad, ill-shod, and poverty-stricken, 
but resolute and conscientious, soldiery. A letter is still in 
existence which was written by him to the Parliament at 
this period ; in it he desires that the necessary wants of 
those troops with which he was now about to deliver the 
nation from the danger which was threatening it might be 
supplied. 

Traversing the country from North to South, followed 
by these soldiers, with the rapidity of lightning, he came 
up with the Scotch army near the river Ribble. It was 
commanded by the Duke of Hamilton. The first who 
brought the Duke news of Cromwell's approach was an 
officer from one of the outposts ; but the Scotch general dis- 
credited the intelligence, not believing it possible that Oliver 
could be so near, and reproached him for suffering himself so 
readily to be duped. The tidings were, however, only too 
true. In less than half an hour his outposts were driven in and 
the English Puritans burst upon him. Rank after rank was 
scattered as the Scots collected hurriedly and in disorder to 
oppose that fiery onslaught. The rout became general. 
Broken and terror-stricken, the invading army crossed the 
river and fled southward. They were closely followed by 
Cromwell, who was determined to allow them no time to re- 
establish and rearrange their strength. In a narrow defile 
that was near Warrington he subsequently overtook them, 
and the Duke of Hamilton was comiielled tu surrender him- 
self, with his whole army, to the general of the Common- 
wealth. The campaign of one solitary fortnight had, as it 
were, obliterated the invading forces and stamped the Puri- 
tan soldier as the greatest and most brilliant military leader 
who had ever yet trodden upon English soil. 

In saying this we would have the circumstances under 
which the campaign was made remembered. The Parlia- 
ment was panic-stricken. Those troops which he had at 



270 ouviB CBOMWELL, [March, 

his disposal were snffering from the want of all the neces- 
saries which are required by every army. Nothing but their 
self-devotion and that blind confidence with which their 
leader was alone capable of inspiring them could have 
rendered them equal to the immediate emergency. No 
sooner had the conqueror achieved this success than he 
retraced his steps northward and entered Scotland. Shortly 
after he arrived in Edinburgh. 

Elated by the defeatof the Scotch array and oscillating 
from the direction which had been imposed upon them by 
the presence of Cromwell, the Parliament had in the mean- 
time decided that fresh negotiations should be opened with 
the King. Fifteen commissioners were accordingly chosen 
from both Houses of Parliament and ordered to present 
themselves at Cansbrooke Castle. Here they earnestly 
exhorted him to accept the proposals which they made to 
him before the army should oe strengthened by the return 
of that portion of it which was now in Scotland. True to that 
double-dealing whose impulse might almost seem to be a 
constitutional infirmity, he appeared inclined to do so ; yet, 
he knew that Ormond was about to re-enter Ireland from the 
Continent, provided with money and ammunition to carry on 
the war. This was also known to the commissioners, and for 
the purpose of quieting their remonstrances he sent a written 
order to the Marquis to desist from his preparations, while 
at the same time he secretly caused a letter to be conveyed 
to him enjoining him in all things explicitly and solely to 
obey the will of the Queen. It was obviously the wish of 
Charles himself that the struggle should still be carried on. 
Perhaps he thought that while arms were otill in the 
hands of his followers and adherents better terms might 
possibly be afforded him. Whatever may have been the 
reason of his perverse and resolute faithlessness, it is certain 
that in their negotiations with him the Parliamentary leaders 
were invariably either dupes or simpletons. That crime 
which has been so constantly imputed to Oliver was almost 
a virtue. His hypocrisy simply consisted in his having too 
much discernment, after having once eluded the bait, to 
suffer himself a second time to be hooked by the princely 
angler. 

That spirit, however, which the Parliament had hoped 
was departed for the North in company with Cromwell had 
not entirely quitted the army, which was still encamped in 
the neighborhood of London. A portion of it presented a 



1867.] BIS CBARAOTKR AND OOVSRNMBKT. 2*71 

remonstrance to the two Houses. In it the remonstrants 
required that the sovereignty of the people should be defi- 
nitely acknowledged, and that, for the future, the King should 
be elected by their representatives. There were some few 
of the Commons that, upon the receipt of this, boldly and 
unhesitatingly proposed that the remonstrants should at 
once be accused of high treason. The House were too timid 
to do this, but the proposal only widened the breach. 

It must be remembered that the Parliamentary army was 
not composed of the same materials which are collected in 
ordinary armies. Neither was it sustained by the ordinary 
principles which generally actuate miljtary bodies. In 
many respects it was emphatically the representative of 
national opinion. The wealthy farmers and moderate gen- 
try who had joined the troops that were called together 
by the revolt against regal tyrnnuy were better calculated 
to judge of the necessities of the people than that Parlia- 
ment was whose battles they had been fighting. They had 
done the work which that Parliament had required of them, 
and had done this from free and untrammelled conviction of 
its necessity. Keenly alive to that which was required by 
the great body of the nation, and consequently to their own 
individual rights, they determined upon solving this matter. 
Accordingly, under the command ot Fairfax, they marched 
from Windsor, and on the 2d of December entered London. 
Undeterred by this evidence of the determination of the 
Puritan soldiery, the Commons resumed their debate on the 
fourth of the month, and on the day following it was decided 
in favor of the King; Two regiments were posted around 
Westminster Hall on the morning of the 6th of December, 
under the command of Colonel Pride, who had strict injunc- 
tions to prevent the Parliament from assembling. Forty- 
one of the most determined of the members were driven 
back from the doors. A few of those who had the greatest 
influence were sent to the Tower, and others who were more 
timid were scared into the country, whence many of them 
hesitated to return. It was now determined by the army 
to bring Charles back to the neighborhood of London. He 
could have escaped from Cansbrooke, but, with a singu- 
lar fittuity, still resolving to trust in his own diplomacy — 
should it not rather be called duplicity ? — and reckoning still 
upon those dissensions of which he had hitherto availed him- 
self in his dealings with the Parliament and the leaders of 
the army, he decided upon awaiting the arrival of the de- 



272 OLrniB orouwkll, [March, 

tachment which had been despatched to escort him to Horst 
Castle. 

While residing in this fortress, although closely, watched 
by the Puritans, to prevent his correspondence with the 
leaders of the Royalists, who were still in a state ot incessant 
activity, he was treated with that respect which was consid- 
ered his dae. All ot those ceremonies which were then 
considered almost as part of royalty were scrupulously 
observed. No merely chance observer of this observance 
would have believed him to be a prisoner. He dined upon 
a dais and in public ; he was served upon the bended knee. 
The formalities which were thus preserved in the attendance 
upon bis person beyond a doubt combined to foster his delu- 
sion, and encouraged those vain hopes which were soon to be 
so abruptlv terminated by his trial and his sentence, the 
scaffold and the block. 

A few days only elapsed before the return of Cromwell, 
who was even then upon his way from Scotland. The 
House of Commons, or as perhaps we should better say, that 
portion of it which remained in London after the operation 
of ''Pride's Purge," as the step which had been taken by 
the leaders of the army was popularly named, received him 
with the warmest expressions of gratitude. Their thanks 
were voted him for his Scotch services. He was called by 
the people the Pacificator of Britain. But he remained silent 
and scarcely did more than answer those who addressed him. 
The weight of that which was to come, aud which in all 
probability he now foresaw, appeared palpably to oppress 
him. 

On December the 2Sth it was declared by the House to 
be treason in the King of England for the time to come to 
levy war against the Parliament. Almost immediately after 
a member arose and proposed to bring the King to trial '* as 
the'cause of the blood " which had been shed during the late 
contest. Cromwell then spoke, and his words sealed the 
fate of Charles Stuart. *' Since the providence of God,'* he 
said, *^ hath cast this upon us, I cannot but submit to it, 
though lam not yet prepared to give you my advice.'* He 
recoiled from that necessity which he could not but feel. 
The initiative had not proceeded from him, and he was daily 
tormented by his doubts and harassing reflections upon the 
justice of this step. A terrible struggle was taking place 
in his mind. Let us see how it was solved. John Cromwell, 
a relative of his who was in the Dutch service, came to 



1867.] HIS CHARACTIR AND OOYXBKXBNT. 278 

England. He was charged with a message from the Princess 
of Wales to him who was believed alone to have the 
power of saving the King's life. Cromwell replied to him 
that he had fasted and prayed daily in the hopes of learning 
the will of God, but that it had not as yet been revealed to 
him. On that same night he once more sought in prayer 
the solution of bis doubt, and while still upon his knees a 
lively conviction arose within his soul. From that moment 
the death of Charles was decided upon in his mind, and on 
the day following he told John to trouble him no more. 

But although the ordinance for the trial of Charles had 
passed the Low^r House, the peers refused to ratify it. In 
consequence of /this it was determined by the Commons to 
erect a High Court of Justice and proceed solely upon their 
own power. This was immediately done, one hundred and 
thirty-five coaimissioners being chosen and John Bradshaw 
named Lord President. On the same day proclama- 
tion was made by Fairfax enjoining all maiignants and 
Roman Catholics (Papists), as well as every person who had 
been engaged on the King's side in the late war, to depart 
from London. 

Rumors of the approaching trial of Charles had no sooner 
spread through the country than the agitation caused by it 
became universal. The Episcopalians, as well as the Cath- 
olics, and generally the Presbyterians, denied the right of 
the Commons of England to sit in judgment upon one of the 
Lord's anointed. A strong protest was sent up by the 
Church of Scotland against it. Many foreign princes did the 
same ; but from the moment indecision had vanished from the 
mind of Cromwell, his spirit alone pervaded the House of 
Commons. They did not hesitate. 

It was upon the 20th of January, 1649, that Charles 
was brought to the bar. As he advanced towards it 
the eyes of Cromwell met those of the King, and he 
turned away as pale as death. How could it have been 
otherwise ? His late doubts were still active. Although 
determined upon the course which he should take, and en* 
tertaining the positive conviction of its absolute necessity, 
he could not but feel a bitter pang as he gazed upon the 
royal victim who was bound as a sacrifice to the horns of 
the altar of national justice. The trial lasted seven days, 
and in some respects redeems the memory of the unfortu- 
nate Stuart from that obloquy which must otherwise have 
been inevitably heaped upon his name. He appeared to 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVIII. 6 



St4 oum dtomrKU^ [H&rch, 

forget his past duplicity of ebaraeter in his present periL 
More of the Prince and less of the political intriguer, he seemed 
to recur to the glories of his ancestors^ and enibody his own 
being with their spirit Refusing to answer those cbaiges 
which were advanced against him, he utterly denied the au- 
thority of th^ Court to try him, and when condemned to death 
appeared to be the only person present who was unmoved 
by doubt or oppressed by fear. Sixty-seven members of the 
Commission were sitting when sentence was passed upon him. 

His execution took place on the 30th of the same month. 
After the blow was stricken which dissolved the connection 
of the English nation with their King, the body was put into 
a coffin covered with black velvet and removed into the Pal- 
ace of Whitehall, where it was embalmed. It was then 
placed in a second coffin of lead and delivered to four of his 
servants, who attended the hearse which conveyed it to Wind- 
sor. There, by the permission of Parliament, it was buried 
in St. George's Chapel. 

An act had been introduced in Parliament on February 
the 7tb which prohibited the proclaiming any person king 
of England or Ireland, as the power and office of king were 
considered to be '* unnecessary, burdeusome, and dangerous 
to the liberty of the nation.'* Some six days later Prince 
Charles was proclaimed King of Scotland. Meanwhile the 
Marquis of Ormond had entered Ireland and raised an army 
in defence ol the rights of the Stuarts. The nation rose with 
him. Unfortunately, he was not able to restrain them,exa8- 

ferated as they had been by the government of the English 
arliament. 
Prompt and formidable measures were undertaken by 
Cromwell immediately after landing. He marched against 
Drogheda and summoned it to surrender. This was in the 
commencement of September. The garrison refuse to do 
so. An immediate assault was ordered. His troops were 
twice beaten back from the walls, and it was only when he 
himself led them in person that they succeeded in entering 
the city. Quarter was refused, and the whole of the Irish 
troops were mercilessly put to the sword. In his letter to 
the Speaker of the House of Commons, Crom well says : ** To 
God alone the praise of this worR belongs ; for instruments, 
they were very inconsiderable in this work, throughout.'* 
Immediately after this exploit he marched upon Wexford. 
A similar summons to surrender was at once addressed to the 
Governor. Terrified by the vague rumors which had already 



1867.] HIS CHARACTER AND 60VSRK1IINT. 276 

reached him touching the fate of Drogheda, and apparently 
apprehensive of a similar vengeance being wreaked upon 
bim and his small garrison, he seemed inclined to comply 
with the summons of the English general. However, on the 
approach of the Earl of Castlehaven, who managed to throw 
a considerable body of troops into the town, he determined 
npon risking the event of a siege. Cromwell did not give 
him much time to compute the chances of foiling him. He 
was compelled to storm the fortifications, which he did upon 
the following day. After a gallant but not very protracted 
resistance, this city was also taken, and more than 2,000 
of the enemy were slain by the infuriated conquerors. They 
believed themselves the appointed and chosen instruments to 
wreak the wrath of God upon the Irish nation. Upon the 
17th of October the Lord Lieutenant arrived before Ross. 
A large reinforcement, consisting of 1,600 troops, had been 
thrown into this place by the Marquis of Ormond, and when 
Cromwell demanded its surrender, not the slightest answer 
was returned to his summons. This town was more regu- 
larly fortified than either Wexford or Drogheda had been, 
and he foresaw that its capture would be a task of greater 
difficulty. Accordingly, batteries were raised against it, 
and on the 19th of the month his heavy artillery opened 
their fire upon the walls. On the evening of the same day 
a large breach had been effected, and it became almost a 
matter of certainty that on the morning following the English 
would attempt to storm its defences. Apparently profiting 
by those lessons v^hich had been given the Irish soldiery by 
the fate which had befallen the two places previously men- 
tioned, the Governor now capitulated. 

The eldest son of Charles I, who had already been pro- 
claimed King of Scotland, was soon after invited by the Scotch 
Parliament to quit the Continent. He decided upon accept- 
ing the invitation which had been addressed to him. Early 
in the summer of 1650 he arrived there and soon after en- 
tered Edinburgh. 

When news of this was brought to the Parliament of the 
Commonwealth it was accompanied by the rumor that the 
Scots had again determined upon crossing the frontier which 
separated the two peoples. After a brief discussion it was 
decided upon striking the first blow. Orders were accord- 
ingly given Fairfax to march northward. His lady, however, 
who was strongly Presbyterian in her religious principles, 
and was greatly influenced by the ministers of that persua- 



8T6 OUTER oftOKWKLL, [March, 

gion, induced him to hesitate in at once obeying, and he inti- 
mated to the Parliament that he did not conceive they would 
be justified in carrying the war into Scotland. 

Foreseeing that the longer it was deferred the more diffi- 
cult it would become.Cromwell at once advanced to theNd^s 
crossed the Tweed, and entered that kingdom with an army 
of 12,000 men. Scanty as these numbers were when com- 
pared with those of the forces which were opposed to him, he 
felt that they would be enough for the work. They were 
composed of those men who had already learned to conquer 
under him. The veterans of Marston Moor and of Naseby 
and a portion of the soldiery who, under his orders, had overrun 
Ireland, were serving under him. 

In the neighborhood of Dunbar was it that David Leslie 
found the English turn upon him. Following them in the 
full conviction that they were retracing their steps for the 
purpose of quitting Scotland, he had entangled his troops 
in a false position. The eagle eye of Cromwell at once saw 
and his military intuition profited by this error. On the 3d 
of September he gained a complete victory, and more than 
10,000 of the Scotch soldiery laid down their arms before 
him. After this Oliver marched upon Edinburgh, and tiiat 
portion of the defeated army which had escaped thither after 
their recent defeat retired into the Castle. 

But the great Puritan, who had shown himself so cruel 
and ruthless to the Irish Catholics, felt called upon to deal 
difi*erently with the people of Scotland. He displayed 

fatience, gentleness, and moderation towards the vanquished 
resbyterians. 
The entry which Oliver made on his return to London, 
at1;er having gained so many victories, partook of the nature 
of an antique triumph. It was an ovation offered by the 
nation to the man who was now its hero. Members of Par- 
liament, officers of the army, the Council of State, and the 
Aldermen and Common Council of the city, had gone forth to 
welcome him. These were followed by throngs of appren- 
tices and soldiers, tradesmen who had quitted their counters, 
sailors, and handicraftsmen who had thrown aside their 
tools, thrifty citizens, and the frequenters of taverns, bloom- 
ing maidens' and matronly wives, prattling children in all the 
mirth of infancy, and aged men whose gray hairs were 
already trenching upon the shadows of the grave — ^all of whom 
were eager to look upon the man whom they proclaimed, in 
the intoxicatioa of their pleasure, the Liberator of England. 



1867.] HIS CHARACrSE AND <y>yERKMENT. 277 

That joy which had for the moment succeeded their previous 
fears seemed completely to have obliferated from the minds 
of every one his envy or his jealousy. The Parliament 
everloaded him with favors as the man to whosearm andsword 
they were indebted for their continued existence. A rich 
donation of lands was conferred upon him, in addition t-o that 
portion of the estates of the Earl of Worcester which had 
been settled upon him and his heirs in the spring of 1G48. 
Hampton Court, which he had last known under other cir- 
cumstancesy was now assigned him as a residence. Those 
who had heretofore been the most backward in courting 
him, now could not weary of exhibiting to him their respect 
and affection. So is it always. The same enthusiasm which 
has hewn down and destroyed old glories is ever anxious to 
discover or reward new ones. It seems to fancy that in thus 
elevating a fresh image it returns to society that of which 
it had previously despoiled it. At least it did so now. 

Many discordant elements were still agitating the coun- 
try, and it was necessary to restore tranquility. The Long 
Parliament, or rather that small portion of it which was now 
called the '* Bump'' and had managed to retain its life and 
faculties after undergoing << Pride's Purge," although drawing 
undeniably near its end, still maintained a tough and reso- 
lute hold upon life. It was anxious, if possible, to prolong 
its existence. 

It consisted at present of scarcely a remnant of its orig- 
inal number. Highly unpopular throughout the whole na- 
tion, it was disliked by every mode of thought, as it was de- 
nounced '^y every party in politics and despised by every 
sect in religion. From every side and by all shades of 
opinion it was loudly called upon to dissolve itself. 

A new power was needed by the nation. It required one 
for the task of building up a form of government in place of 
that which it had so lately overthrown. But this power 
needed to be single and concentrated. The task of destruction 
can always be done by many. That of re-erecting generally 
demands but one will. Cromwell felt that this will must be' 
his own. 

Colonel Ingoldsby came hurriedly to Cromwell upon the 
20th of April, in 1G53. This was to inform him that the 
Parliament were then occupied in passing a bill for the puri- 
pose of prolonging their existence. *< It is not honesti" he 
exclaimed. ''Yea, it is contrary to common honesty." 
Summoning a company of musketeers to attend him, he hur- 




278 OUYKR CBoxwiLL, [Msrch, 

ried to the house, andt charging them to reirain in the lobby 
advanced into it, and took bis seat He remained silent and 
motionless for more than a quarter of an hour. Then, as the 
Speaker, was going to.take the sense of the House on the ques- 
tion which was before them, he turned to Lieutenant General 
Harrison, who was sitting beside him, and said: '^I must do it." 
Subsequently he declared that on entering the House he had no 
intention of taking the step which he felt compelled to take 
at this moment. When he rose and addressed the House his 
tone was at first even and calm; but as he continued sj^eaking 
it became more warm and bitter. ** You are no Parliament" 
were his concluding words. *< I will put an end to your sit- 
tings. Some of you are drunkards, others lead scandalous 
and corrupt lives. I say you are no Parliament. Get ye 
gone ? Give way to honester men." Lenthall, the Speaker, 
would not ^uit his seat, but General Harrison strode up to 
him and, takmg him by the arm, forced him to rise. ** What," 
cried Cromwell, as he gazed upon the mace, '< shall we do 
with this fool's bauble? Take it away." So saying he point- 
ed it out to one of the musketeers who had entered the cham- 
ber. When the members had all vanished, locking the door 
and placing the key in his pocket, he returned to Whitehall. 

During the last two years a gradual improvement in the 
foreign relation!* of the Commoawealth had taken place. 
France, which had at first looked doubtfully and coldly 
upon the new Republic, now appeared inclined to approxi- 
naate towards the victorious general. 

His first step was to call together the principal mihtary 
officers and those persons who had during the late troubles 
been occupied with civil matters and who were the most 
conspicuous for their sobriety of demeanor as well as for 
their talent. These were invited to meet at Whitehall and 
there consult together, for the purpose of forming an intelli- 
gent and stable government. By these a Council of State, 
consisting of thirteen members, was chosen. It Jias been 
said that Sir Henry Vane, who had been one of the most 
active leaders in the late Parliament, was invited to attend 
and become one of this council. Replying that he had no 
reason to doubt that it was the reign of the Saints which 
was about to commence, he intimated that he should prefer 
not taking any part in it until he was called to do so in 
heaven. 

This assembly, which at first was called the Notables, 
was immediately convened. Their session was opened on the 



186T.] ma cRASAorxs aitd eormtNicsMT. 279 

4th of July by Cromwell^ in person, at the Council Chamber in 
Whitehall . They immediately took the name of the Parliament ; 
bat unfortunately proved by no means equal to that which was 
expected of them. This was rather from an over-zeal than 
from an incapacity for their work. Order and economy were 
partially introduced by them into the financial affairs of the 
government. This alone might fairly be considered enough 
to redeem the Little, or, as it was more popularly calledi 
^* Barebones Parliament" from much of that obloquy which 
was cast upon it. After this they suppressed some of the 
taxes and desired to give the nation a code of laws. 

It was, therefore, upon the 12th of December, that, after 
a brief session of five months and eleven days — ^it having 
been moved that, as the sittings of the Parliament in its 
present form could not be for the good of the nation, it was 
requisite that they should resign their functions into the 
hands of the Lord General. Immediately afterwards the 
Speaker, accompanied by the majority of the members, repaired 
to Whitehall. There, in the presence of Cromwell, they 
tendered their resignation of that office to which his word 
and his will had called them. 

All parties in the State, with the exception of the faction 
of the Levellers, now turned their eyes upon CromwelU 
They believed him to be the only man in England who was 
capable of ensuring the safety of the Commonwealth and 
consolidating a republican form of government. 

Although evidently surprised by the resignation of the 
Assembly of Notables, he called together a Council of the 
leading officers of the army and advised with them upon 
the best mode in which the government might be carried on. 
After a lengthy discussion they came to the resolution that 
a form approximating to royalty would be the strongest and 
the most advisable for the necessities of the nation. It was 
accordingly determined that a Council of ''godly and dis- 
creet" persons should be sdlected, consisting of twenty-one, 
and that Oliver himself should be named the Lord Pro* 
tector of the Commonwealth of England, Ireland, and Scot- 
land. They also decided that a Parliament of four hundred 
and sixty members should be elected and summoned toge- 
ther every three years, and that any neglect to issue the 
writs for its election by the Commissioners of the Great 
Seal should render them amenable to the charge of high 
treason. 

In a few days England had bowed before and felicitated 



280 0UV8B cROMWBLii^ [Ifarch, 

its new m^fiter. Those who hod hoped to revert opce more 
to royalty were struck with fear. The Presbyterians had 
been witnesses to that which he had accomplished, and 
shrank from opposing that iron arm which they had once seen 
stretched over Ireland ; while the Independents hailed, in stem 
and unbridled joy» the government of their favorite saint. 

The Parliament had neither answered the expectations of 
Cromwell nor those of the people. They attempted to cir- 
cumscribe his power and struggled to assert their own su- 
perioritv. A vote was passed that none should be tolerated 
who did not profess the fundamentals of Christianity which 
they recognized. Another spirit than that which animated 
the Protector made itself glaringly obvious in their bigotry 
and intolerance. It was on the 22d of January, I65r^, that 
they were summoned to meet him. He then administered 
them a scathing rebuke. Reproaching them for having thrown 
away their time and not prepared to encounter those dangers 
which were threatening the nation, he told them that they 
ought to have closed the breaches which divided it, and made 
it secure, happy, and well satisfied. He said that the army 
had been debauched and divided by the enemies of the Com- 
monwealth; while they, by their inaction, had afforded them 
great advantages. With a singular advance beyond the 
•spirit of the age, he also reproached them for their attacks 
upon religious liberty. •• Is there not yet," said he, " upon 
the spirits of men a strange itching? ' Nothing will satisfy 
them unless they can press their finger upon their brethren's 
^consciences to pinch them there. To do this was no part of 
the contest we had with the common enemy. * * Had 
Aot they themselves labored but lately under the weight of 
persecution ? And was it fit for them to sit heavy on others? 

* * It is ungenerous to ask liberty and not to give it. 
What greater hypocrisy than for those who were oppressed 
by the Bishops to become the greatest oppressors themselves 
as soon as their yoke was removed ?" 

Recovering from their temporary depression of spirits, the 
Royalists coalesced with the Levellers^ who shrank not from 
loudly declaring that even Charles was preferable to Oliver 
Cromwell. The reasons of this are obvious to the most 
cursory student of history. Under the government of 
the Protector they were unable to excite the disturbances 
which they had previously done. His hand weighed directly 
upon them and imposed a curb whose check upon them they 
scarcely had dared at first to murmur against With these last 



1861.] HI8 GHARAOTXR AND GOYUUnCINT. 281 

he dealt mildly. It was, however, necessary to maintain order 
and sobriety in the Commonwealth. For the purpose of 
doing this be accordingly divided England into twelve dis- 
tricts, over which he placed men of the most exemplary zeal 
and unimpeachable mtegrity. These officers were cliurged 
with the universal civil und military superintendence in their 
respective districts. 

At this time many of the Lords and gentlemen connected 
with the Royalist party, who had been previously retained 
prisoners, were released, and a growing confidence in the 
stability of the government began to be manifested by the 
proprietors of landed estates, whose security had been vio- 
lently shaken and disturbed during the recent Virars which 
had disorganized England. As a proof of this, it may be 
mentioned that gentlemen of birth and quality began once 
more to serve upon the Grand Juries. This is only stated 
to demonstrate the satisfaction with which a strong and vig- 
orous administration of the national resources began to be 
received even among the Royalists. 

Nevertheless, he encountered great risks in having placed 
himself at the bead of the Republic. Against him solely 
were now concentrated the hatred and enmity of that por- 
tion of the Royalist party which still retained their distrust 
of the Commonwealth. 

The discovery of a plot was made on January lf)th 
in the following year. Its object was to burn the palace 
of Whitehall and to assassinate the Protector. A day of 
thanksgiving for his escape from this danger was appointed 
by the Parliament, and the members of the House waited 
upon Cromwell and congratulated him upon his deliverance. 
Men's thoughts were now more narrowly directed to the 
means of strengthening the government against all such 
attempts upon the life of the Protector, and gradually these 
settled in one direction amongst the more sober portion of 
the nation. It wished to revert to the old forms to which 
its fathers had been accustomed. It had been used to the 
name of king. In his hands upon whom its eyes were 
fixed was all that power which their former associations 
taught them to link with it. Was it not natural that its 
inclinations should slowly but surely take this direction? 

But, while a large section of the people thought thus, 
there was a more limited portion who had gradually drawn off 
from Cromwell since he had been installed in the Protector- 
ate. To these the idea of offering him the crown was one 



282 oixnBR ORomfELL, [March, 

which caused them a deep and serious feeling of pain. 
Amongst them were the extreme Independents and many 
of the leading officers of the army, who were the most 
closely connected with him. At length, on February the 
23d, 1657, Sir Christopher Pack, an alderman of the city 
of London, introduced a motion in the House of Commons 
that the crown, with the title of King, should be offered to 
the Lord Protector. This was seconded by Colonel Jeph- 
son. Being at table with Cromwell dining with him upon 
the following day, Oliver reprimanded him for having done 
this. Jephson replied that he had followed the dictates of 
his own conscience, and that he should ever, with God's 
will, take the liberty of so doing. When he answered thus, 
the Protector struck him lightly upon the shoulder, saying : 
" Go, go ! You are mad." 

This motion was violently opposed by the stricter Re- 
publicans, of whom there were yet many in the House. 
They admitted that the regal power was in the hands of 
Cromwell, but they declared that it would be impossible 
for them to return to a form of government which they had 
deliberately destroyed. However, the majority of the legal 
opinion in the present Parliament was decidedly in its favor. 
Necessarily this had great weight with a large proportion 
of its members, who were not yet decided, and, in conse- 
quence, the motion was ultimately carried. Upon the 3l8t 
of March, therefore, a petition was presented to the Pro- 
tector by a commission deputed from the House that he 
should take upon himself the title and office of King, which 
the Parliament believed would be most conformable to the 
laws and temper of the people of England. 

Praying that time might be afforded him for deliberation, 
Cromwell said to them: "Should I give any resolution in 
this matter suddenly without seeking to have an answer 

Eut into my heart and so into my mouth by Him that 
ath been my God and my guide hitherto, it would savour 
more to be of the flesh, to proceed from lust, to arise from 
argument of self. And if my decision have such motives in 
me, it may prove even a crime to you and to these three 
nations." Within three days the commission again waited 
upon him for the purnose of learning his answer. On this 
occasion he said to them : " I return the Parliament my 
grateful acknowledgments. But I must needs say that 
which may be fit for you to offer may not be fit for mo to 
undertake. I am not able for such a trust and charge.*' 



1867.] HIS CHiJUCTBR AND OOTERXIIBNT. 283 

Do these words justify those aspersions which have 
been so constantly heaped upon Cromwell ? Unless the 
hypocrisy be admitted which the whole tenor of his life so 
entirely and so consistently disproves, they must be allowed 
to prove the sincenty which actuated him in declining to 
accept that which he himself said was no more than a 
^eaiher in the cap. 

A singularly perverse, and, if we may say so, unlucky, 
fate would seeem to have attended and darkened the memory 
of Cromwell. Some writers distinctly allege that he enter- 
tained the desire of becoming, ana actually intrigued to 
have himself proclaimed. King. There are others who as 
positively and unhesitatingly deny that he ever felt this in- 
clination. Tet both have not only aspersed his memory, but 
have actually impeached his wisdom — these as strangely 
blaming him for cherishing this desire as those stigmatize 
him for not having done so. 

In 1657, upon the 20th of June, was Cromwell, after 
having refused the kingdom, solemnly inaugurated as the 
Protector of the Commonwealth, after having held the office 
for the space of two years and a half. This inauguration 
took place in Westminister Abbey, where the Speaker pre- 
sented him with a robe of purple velvet, a sword, and a 
sceptre of massive gold. Parliament was almost imme- 
diately after this prorogued to the 20th of January in the 
following year. From experience Cromwell had found the 
necessity of having two Houses of the Legislature. He 
already seemed to see the necessity of that system of weights 
and balances in a representative form of government which 
is now one of its admitted axioms. By the consent of the 
Commons he accordingly constituted the Upper — they invari- 
ably called it the Other — House. This consisted of sixty-one 
hereditary members, who were appointed by the Protector. 
Amongst these were Richard and Henry Cromwell, with 
his son-in-law, Fleetwood, who had married the widow of 
Ireton. In opening the two Houses, he addressed them 
as '* My Lords and Gentlemen of the House of Commons." 

Nothing more than this was wanting. Already jealous of 
that branch of the Legislature which, with their own con* 
sent, he had called into being, they at once took offence at 
the manner in which these appellations had been used. 
Refusing to give the other House their title, they grew sour 
and discontented. Their proceedmgs were by no means such 
as the Protector desired them to have been. He accordingly 



284 ouvER GBOicwBLL, [Uarch, 

sammoned them to meet him on the S6th of January, when he 
addressed them at great length. His speech was masterly in 
the extreme. It was almost entirely addressed to the Con- 
tinental relations of England, discussing the projects and in- 
tentions of the latter in a method the statesmanlike precision 
of which had, up to this period, never been equalled by any 
one in that nation. 

Their own dissensions took the precedence with the Par- 
liament,even of the internal government of England. Per- 
sonal disputes occupied the whole of tho time which re- 
mained to them from their one great annoyance, even when 
war was at their very doors ; and the Spaniards incensed by 
recent differences and forgetful of the defeat of that armada 
which they had called the " Invincible, " were again threat- 
ening to invade England. 

It was about this time that a marriage was talked about 
between Fiances, the youngest and most beautiful of the 
daughters of Cromwell, and the eldest son of Charles Stuart, 
who was called by the Royalists Charles 11. This had been 
so fully canvassed by the heads of both parties that the young 
Prince had suffered himself openly to approve of it ; and 
Lady Dysart, who was an intimate friend of the wife of the 
Protector, had spoken to her several times upon the subject. 
At length she ventured to broach the matter to her husband, 
and urge it upon his attention as a means of at once heal- 
ing the differences which still existed in the nation. Pa^ 
tiently did Cromwell hear his wife to the end. Then, taking 
her by the hand, he said to her, sadly and seriously : ^' Charles 
Stuart can never pardon me his father's death. Did he do 
HO, he would be unworthy of the crown.** Meanwhile some- 
thing had been going on with regard to Frances Cromwell 
of which neither the Protector nor his wife had the slightest 
suspicion. 

Interest had been made by the friends of a young clergy- 
man named Jeremiah White to procure him the appointment 
of one of Oliver's chaplains. This was accorded to him. In 
addition to his youth, he was eminently good-looking. Struck 
by the beauty of the Lady Frances, he had the presumption 
to pay her his addresses. Measuring his person rather than 
his position, she accorded him this liberty and suffered her- 
self to be attracted towards him. The Protector chanced to 
surprise him one forer\oon, upon his knees before her, kissing 
her hand. " What does this mean ? " inquired Cromwell, as 
his eyes fell upon the young minister. Jeremiah immediately 



186t.] HIS CHABACTEB AND OOTERKICENT. 286 

started to his feet. Whether it was the stern and angry glance 
nfhis master which was fastened upon him that prompted 
the lie which rose to his lips, it would be impossible to say ; 
it may, however, be presumed that it was so. He sum<* 
moned up assurance enough to stammer out an answer. 
This was to the effect that he had for a length of time been 
paying attention to one of the maids of the Lady Frances ; 
but not being successful, he had been entreating her Lady- 
ship to use her influence in his favor. "How,'' asked 
Oliver, as he turned to the girl who was in attendance 
upon her mistress, ''is this? Mr. White is one of my 
friends. I expect that you will treat him well." Blush- 
ing and trembling, the young woman stepped forward. 
Probably she had previously admired the Reverend Jeremiah 
and had desired him for a husband. Having the chance of 
obtaining him thrown in her way, she determined not to 
allow it to slip through her fingers. '* If Mr. White wishes 
to do me that honor,'' she replied, " I will most assuredly 
not refuse him." 

Oliver's eyes glistened with wrath, mingled with a good- 
humored malice, as he turned rapidly round and cried out, 
" Let my chaplain, Mr. Goodwin, come here immediately." 
Not the slighest chance of a retreat lay open to the Rev. 
Jeremiah White from the declaration which he had made at this 
juncture. He was accordingly married, and it is said that 
Cromwell bestowed a handsome dowry upon the bride who 
was improvised for the occasion. Shortly after, the Lady 
Frances was wedded to Robert Rich,* the heir of the Earl of 
Warwick. 

It was under these circumstances, while the Lower 
House was forgetting the necessities of the moment and 
lowering its own dignity by idle and angry discussions, that, 
on the 4th of February, 1658. the Usher of the Black 
Rod informed them that his Highness the Lord Protector of 
the Commonwealth bad visited the House of Lords and was 
desirous of speaking with them. 

When they hastened thither, it was to receive a just and 
well-merited rebuke. '< You have not only disjointed your- 
selves, but the whole nation, which is in likelihood of running 
into more confusion in these fifleen or sixteen days that you 
have sat than it hath been from the rising of the last 
session, to this day. • • • I think it high time that an 
end be put to your sitting. And I do dissolve this Par- 
liament, and let God be a judge between you and me." 
He never spoke again in public 



286 OLiviB OROVWiLLy fMarch, 

It was almost immediately after this dissolution that 
Oliver recalled Fleetwood from the government of Ireland, 
to which he had been appointed after the death of his son- 
in-law Ireton. He also cancelled the commission of Lam- 
bert, whom he knew to have been engaged in an intrigue 
for the puri>08e of displacing him, utterly regardless of the 
many pecuniary and other favors which had been bestowed 
upon him. Several others of the officers of the army were 
also dismissed or set aside. 

Soon afterwards the ramifications of a plot were dis- 
covered. By this conspiracy Cromwell was to have been 
murdered and thrown out of a window of the Palace 
of Whitehall, or otherwise disposed of. The sovereignty of 
Jesus would then have been proclaimed by the fanatics. 
The leaders in this singular conspiracy for inaugurating the 
Prince of Peace by an assassination were, however, traced 
out and the majority of them apprehended. Neither was 
this the only design which at this period threatened the 
existence of the government. 

For many weeks the Marquis of Ormond, who had 
opposed the army of the Parliament in Ireland, had been 
concealed in the metropolis for the purpose of arranging a 
combined movement upon the part of the Royalists. Charles 
Stuart had collected an army of 8,000 soldiers and had 
twenty-two ships already in readiness awaiting the moment 
which was to be indicated to him for making another trial 
to regain that kingdom which his sire had so dearly paid for 
misgoverning. These preparations were, however, discon- 
certed by the singular and wary vigilance of the Protector. He 
had by chance discovered one of the threads of the proposed 
movement and lost no time in tracing them out. Three 
of the principals who had embarked in this conspiracy were 
apprehended ; but Ormond succeeded, in spite of the most 
sedulous research, in making his escape. 

Yet, although apparently successful in every thing which 
contributed to uphold his power, the fiat had gone out from 
the Almighty for terminating the troubled and eventful 
life of Cromwell. His arduous toils and his many and wear- 
ing years had both slowly scored themselves again&t his 
name. His health had lon^ been declining, and on the 6th 
of August A blow fell heavily upon him from which he was 
destined not to recover. This was the death of Lady Clay- 
pole. She bad been, since the death of his eldest son, his 
favorite child. Her gentleness, yet firmness, of disposition, 



1861.] HIS CHA1UCTBB AND aOYBRNMBNT. 887 

edmbined afi it was with her tenderness of sentimentf and a 
profound feeling of those Christian duties which so greatly 
elevate the human character, had exercised an empire over 
the more kindly portion of Cromwell's spirit that had 
never intruded itself upon the public eye. For fourteen 
days he never quitted her side. 

He was attacked vnth a severe but remittent fever on 
the 21st of the same month. However, with his accustomed 
hardness of will, he would not give way to it, but continued 
to take his daily drive in the park at Hampton Court. In 
one of these he saw Oeorge Fox, the Quaker^ who had for-* 
merly remonstrated with him upon the proceedings of the 
Parliament against his brethren. Lowering one of the win- 
dows of the carriage, he beckoned him to approach, and 
spoke with him for a considerable time. Twice only, after 
this meeting, did George Fox see him. The first time was 
before the Council, where the Protector "rated him soundly "; 
at least we have the evidence of Fox himself that he did 
so. The second time was also in Hampton Park. He says 
that on this occasion, as he passed him, riding at the head 
of his life-guard, he felt " a waft of death go forth against 
him." 

Cromwell now grew slowly and steadily worse. In this 
stage of his illness the physicians strenuously advised him 
to keep his bed, and very shortly after receiving this counsel 
he was compelled by bodily weakness to do so. His ague-fits 
now rapidly increased in their frequency and severity, and 
at his own desire he was removed to Whitehall. 

In all probability, feeling that he might not possibly 
have long to live, in his last moments he felt the wish to be 
nearer those who had been entrusted by him with the func- 
tions of government over a people he had loved so well, 
whom he had so arduously toiled for both in the chamber, 
in the council and on the field of battle, and to whose pros- 
perity and well-being he had devoted the whole of his 
mighty vigor and dominant energy. As his illness now 
rapidly increased, public and private prayers were assiduous- 
ly offered up for his recovery. Even those who had been the 
most pertinaciously occupied in conspiring against him were 
subdued into silence and stillness in the hour of his agony. 

On the following day he was asked, in behalf of the 
Council of State, upon whom he wished the government of 
the country to devolve in the event of his death. He 
replied to them that he had left a paper in his library at 



288 OLHTEB OBoifWELLL. [Marcb, 

Hftrnpton Court which contained bis last injunctions. This 

Saper, it is said, was never discovered. Probably it was 
estroyed either by Richard Cromwell or the Council who 
believed that they might profit by his indecision of 
character in carrying on the government of England. It has, 
at all events, been supposed that his second living son, 
Henry Cromwell, was designated by his dying father as his 
successor to the Protectorate, in this paper. From all that 
we are now able to learn of the two brothers, he would cer- 
tainly seem to have been eminently the most fitted to sue* 
ceed Oliver, partaking, as he is said to have done, in an em> 
inent degree of all those sound and great qualities by which 
his sire was so singularly distinguished. 

He spoke again on the evening of September the 2d, but 
it was for the last time. Something had been offered him to 
drink with which an opiate had been mingled. He pushed it 
feebly from him. These were his words : '* It is not my design 
to drink or sleep; but my design is to make what haste I can 
to be gone." Surely these are not the words of the man, re- 
ported by his enemies to have been without' conscience, a 
political intriguer and a thorough and consummate hypo- 
crite. 

On the morning of September the 3d, the anniversary of 
the victories which he had gained at Dunbar and Worcester, 
he was speechless and comparatively insensible. It was be- 
tween the hours of three and four o*clock in the afternoon 
that Oliver Cromwell died. 

When the intelligence of this was made known to the 
nation at large, the sorrow which was expressed by the ma- 
jority of them was both great and abiding. An unspeakable 
consternation and profound anxiety seemed at once to descend 
upon all Englishmen. Those even who had disliked and 
feared him' now gazed with terror upon the future ; while 
those who had opposed him paused and inquired gloomily 
into the chances that his death opened to them. Most of the 
sovereigns and princes of Europe assumed mourning for the 
Republican Chieftain. 



186t.] THB TIMPOBAL POWER OF THB POPE. 289 



AsT. III. — 1. Hiitoire universdle deFJSglise chriiienne. Par J. 
Matter. 4 vols., 4to. Strasburg : 1829-1836. 

2. History of the Decline and JFall of the Roman Empire, By 

Edward Gibbon. Edited by Rev. II. H. Milman. 6 vols. 
London : 1865. 

3. Histoire de la Civilisation en France depuis la chiUe de VEm.' 

pireBomaine. Par M. Guizot. Paris: 1862. 

4. Histoire de v£glise ei de VEmpire. Par J. Lesueur. Am- 

sterdam. 

It seems incredible, at first sight, how soon the public 
forgets important events. The most enlightened communi- 
ties cease in a very short time to have any definite recollection 
either of the facts which they have read in history, or of those 
which have been accomplished before their own eyes. If, 
sometimes, one or the other are retained in the memory they 
receive a coloring from our prejudices or predilections which 
entirely misrepresent them even to ourselves. Thus it is 
that, with the most upright intentions, those who depend on 
their memory, witnout carefully and dispassionately reflect- 
ing on the past, so often deceive themselves and others. Un- 
fortunately, there are many who consider themselves states- 
men and public instructors who do not hesitate to draw 
conclusions from impressions thus vague and erroneous, and 
to influence the public to act in accordance with these con- 
clusions, whatever evils they may lead to, however much 
they may disturb the peace of the world, or whatever tendency 
they may have to excite strife and discord even among those 
who have the same interests in common. 

It is this defect of memory and thoughtlessness which 
cause the temporal power of the Pope to seem so mon- 
strous an evil to many thousands of well-meaning people. 
We are not in the least biased in favor of Pius IX. 
more than we are in favor of any other sovereign, further 
than we think his cou'lucf deserves more consideration. 
If his Holiness pursued a course which we thought 
wrong, we would not hesitate to criticise him ; although we 
trust that in doing so, we should not forget that respect and 
veneration which are due to age, unblemished character and 
piety. We have studied his history pretty carefully ; and 
we nnd that the worst that even his enemies lay to his 
charge can be regarded only as an error in judgment. 

Why, then, should he be deprived of his temporal power, 

VOL. XIV. — NO. XXVIII. C 



290 THE TEMPORAL POWER OP THE POPE, fMarcb^ 

morethananyothersovereigQwho is equally blameless? Can 
it be said that he did not acquireit lawfully ? Some will reply 
that if Pius IX. is a mild and indulgent sovereign, the same 
cannot be said of certain of his predecessors. But where is 
there a sovereign of any ancient State who would be safe if 
subjected to this test? Even her Britannic Majestv, whom 
we have always regarded as a good woman, could be told, 
with too much truth, that several of her predecessors, male 
and female, were bad sovereigns. She might reply in the 
affirmative; but ask could she be held responsible for errors 
committed fifty, a hundred, perhaps a thousand, years ago. 
Some Popes have proved bad men as well as bad rulers ; but, 
we are bound to admit that those of this character have 
been very few— certainly not more than one out of a hun- 
dred. Then we have to make a still more important ad- 
mission — namely, that the bad , Popes were not legally 
elected. They were not chosen by the legitimate ecclesias- 
tical authority ; but forced upon the Church by those kings 
or emperors who happened to have most power in their 
time. Had the fact been otherwise, it would be both illogical 
and narrow-minded to condemn hundreds for the conduct of 
three or four ; if this would be fair or just, should not the 
eleven apostles be held responsible for the treason of the 
twelfth? 

Be this as it may, ic is much more difficult to set aside 
an idea long entertained and cherished by the large majority 
of Christians than modern statesmen seem to be aware. This 
would not be the less true, though all the statesmen of Eu- 
rope and America, Protestant and Catholic, would uanimously 
concur in the same view. They could, indeed, deprive Pius 
IX. of his temporal power ; it would be easy to overthrow 
a sovereign who would scarcely make any armed resistance. 
Nothing more would be necessary on the part of the leading 
powers of Europe than to call on him to resign ; if it 
were added that he must go into exile, this order, too, he would 
most probably obey. He might die in France, Germany, 
England or America ; yet it would be by no means certain that 
the temporal power of the Pope was at an end, no matter 
what sort ofa government ruled Rome in the meantime. 

History furnishes us lessons and warnings enough on this 

foint, although both are unheeded. It is forgotten that the 
ope has several timesbeen attacked and deprived of his power, 
and that as often it has been found necessary, even by those 
who had been most opposed to his rule, to induce him to come 



1S6T.] THE nifFORil. POWBB OF THK F0P1« S91 

back again. All this we will show as we proceed ; bat let 
us first see what is the origin of his temporal power, and 
ascertain whether there is any dynasty in Europe whose title 
is better founded, or whose rights are more clearly defined. 
Nor need we rely on the opinions of any Catholic writers for 
these facts ; not only Protestants, but those known to be 
opposed to Christianity, do justice te the Popes in this re- 
spect. Of the latter suffice it to mention Gibbon and Hume, 
each of whom bears testimony to the legitimate rights of the 
Pope as a temporal sovereign — rights which, in point of fact, 
were originally conferred by the people and only ratified by 
kings and emperors. 

In order to understand this, it will be necessary to remem- 
ber that it was not until the Pope was known to be beloved 
by hundreds of thousands ; until it was evident that hundreds 
of thousands had implicit confidence in him as a father, and 
would much rather pay taxes to him than to any other ruler, 
that temporal power was conferred upon him By the em- 
perors. We must also do the Popes the justice to bear in 
mind that before they had any territories or recognized tem- 
poral power they had often protected the people from the 
tyranny of the emperors. They had denounced that tyranny, 
and by their influence rendered it dangerous, even to those 
who had the largest armies, to persist in it. Thus, it is not 
to the piety or superstition of kings or emperors the popes 
are indebted for their temporal power, but to the gratitude 
of a people who regarded them as both their temporal and 
spiritual protectors. In commenting on the attacks of one 
of the emperors on the Church, Gibbon makes the followinff 
remarks : *' A strong alternative,*' he says, '* was proposed 
to the Roman pontiff-*the royal favor as the price of bis 
compliance, degradation and exile as the penalty of dis- 
obedience. Neither zeal nor policy allowed him to hesitate ; 
and the haughty strain in which Gregory addressed the em- 
peror displays his confidence in the truth of his doctrine or 
the powers of resistance. Without depending on prayers or 
miracles he boldly armed against the public enemy, and his 
pastoral letters admonished the Italians of their danger and 
their duty.^^^ 

The historian also tells us what the result was ; he shows 
that Gregory was entirely successful in throwing off the yoke 
of the Greek emperors ; although the latter left no effort 
untried to maintain their power. ''The City (Rome) 

* Decline and FaU of Boman Bmpire, vol. r, p. 19. 



293 THJB TEMPORAL POWIR OF THB FOPB. [March, 

was repeatedly visited or assaulted by captains of tbe guards, 
and dukes and exarchs of high dignity or secret trust ; they 
landed with foreign troops, they obtained some domestic aid, 
&c. But these clandestine or open atttacks were repelled 
by the courage and vigilance of the Romans.**' Further on 
Gibbon shows how the most enlightened of the Caclovingian 
sovereigns were glad to have an opportunity to confer temporal 

J)Ower on the Pope. " The Greek emperor had abdicated or 
brfeited his right to the Exarchate, and the sword of Astol- 
phus was broken by the stronger sword of the Carlovingian. It 
was not in the cause of the Iconoclast that Pepin had exposed 
bis person and army in a double expedition beyond the Alps ; 
he possessed and might lawfully alienate his conquests ; and 
to the importunities of the Greeks he piously replied that no 
human consideration should tempt him to resume the gift 
which he had conferred on the Roman Pontiff."t 

Such is the testimony of one who has omitted nothing 
which he thought would tend to bring discredit on the Church 
of Rome. He has, indeed, suppressed many things, or only 
alhided to them derisively with that view ; but had he 
failed to record such facts as those we have just noted, his 
work could not have attained the celebrity to which, with all 
its faults, it is justly entitled. We should also bear in mind 
that the sneers of Gibbon are not directed merely against 
the Church of Rome, but against all churches that acknowl- 
edge Christ as their founder. It is easy to understand, there- 
fore, how it is that Gibbon does not present the giil of Pepin 
in a very favorable light ; he fails to explain to us that As- 
tolphus, King of the Lombards, hadinvaaed the Roman Duke- 
dom and seized all its territories. Pepin makes war upon 
him, defeats him in two battles, in 754 and 755 ; having 
thus conquered him, he compels him to deliver up to the 
see of Rome all the territories, cities, castles, &c., he had 
seized in the Roman Dukedom. Was this honorable and le- 
gitimate, or was it not ? The best proof that it was no hasty 
or thoughtless act, but one that was approved by the best 
statesmen of the day, is to be found in the fact that it was 
not only confirmed by Charles the Great (Charlemagne) 
but that illustrious monarch added several cities and pro- 
vinces to tho grant of his father. 

If the power of the Popes had no higher antiquity than 
this, it would still have been more ancient than that of any 
dynasty of Europe. But they had a temporal power which 

* Ddcliae and FaU of Bomaa Einpire, vol. v, p. 19. f Ibid., p. 82. 



1867.] TH8 TUCPOBAL POWER OF THE POPE. 298 

was fully recognized centuries previously. Thus, be it re- 
membered, that it was in 392 A. D. tbe law of Valentin- 
ian expressly empowered tbe Pope of Rome to examine and 
judge all other bishops, that religious disputes might not be 
decided by profane and secular judges. We have sufficient 
proof that this was no mere personal favor in the fact that 
the Council of the Church which met at Rome five years 
afterwards (378) solemnly confirmed the Valentinian law. Yet, 
certain writers, whose zeal is greater than their respect for the 
truth of history, inform us that when Adrian I. and Leo III. 
produced to Charlemagne a parchment represented to con- 
tain a large grant of territory from Constantino the Great, 
they acted under false pretences. There was no such grant, 
they tell us ; that now exhibited was a forgery. But the 
acknowledged facts fully refute this charge. What need was 
there for forgeries when one of the first acts of Charlemagne, 
after coming to the imperial throne, was to ratify the grant 
of his father, Pepin ? On having been remonstrated with by 
the Greeks for this, he replied that it was too small a grant 
for the purpose, and, consequently, that instead of withhold- 
infi^ what his father had given he would make important ad- 
ditions to it. Nor did he fail to keep his word. This was 
no mere charitable, or pious donation ; it was simply a recog- 
nition of the public opmion of Christendom — ^the same feel- 
ing which prompted him to proceed to Rome in the depth of 
winter in order to induce Leo III. to crown him as Emperor 
of the Romans ; and thus was performed on Christmas Day, 
A. D. 800, the ceremony which laid the foundations of 
the new Christian empire in the West, which was to take the 
place of the fallen pagan empire. It is very clear that a Pope 
whose influence was such that he could command the greatest 
sovereign in the world to wait on him at the Vatican had no 
occasion to forge old parchments in order to induce that 
sovereign to grant him some additional territory. Those 
who make the opposite statements only stultify themselves ; 
and no intelligent reader that is free from bigotry thanks them 
for their pains. 

It may, then, be safely asserted that the temporal power 
of the Pope dates back to the time of Constantino the Great ; 
although it was but little exercised for centuries afterwards. 
In other words, the right on the part of the Pope of possess- 
ing and exercising temporal power was recognized bv kings, 
emperors, and people for several centuries before he 
availed himself of it-— that is, before he was attacked by the 



894 THB TBMPOSAL PowiB or TKi POFC [Uarch, 

Greek emperors, as we have seen, and left no alternative bat 
either to submit to degradation or go into exile, suffering the 
Bonian8,if not Italiann in generaI,to be brought nnder a worse 
despotism than they had ever felt before. 

We do not make these statements on any Catholic 
authority, but confine ourselves strictly to the testi- 
mony of Protestants, and of those who are neither 
Protestants nor Catholics — ^that is, to the testimony of 
men whose only motive in the discussion is to place 
the facts on record and secure for themselves the reputation 
of reliable historians. If it be alleged that they had 
other motives, at least it cannot be pretended that men like 
Gibbon, Hume, Milman, Robertson, Ac, would say more in 
favor of the Church of Rome, or its Popes, than they de- 
served. 

Now we will see what another Protestant writer says on 
(the same subject. None who are acquainted with the writ- 
:mgs of Guizot will assert that there is any more reliable au- 
thority than he on the growth of power in Europe during 
the middle ages. If in treating subjects connectea with the 
Reformation and its results he shows any partiality, he does so 
towards <tlie Protestants; this is what might be expected 
from a descendant of one of the most ancient Huguenot fam- 
ilies in France, who still professes the religion of his ances- 
tors. But what does this truly learned and impartial histo- 
rian tell us on the subject under consideration ? 

In discussing the position and influence of the Church 
three centuries anterior to the time of Charlemagne, Guizot 
rshows that the prevailing sentiment was in favor of its 
possessing and e;cercising temporal power. He informs us 
that four different systems had each their advocates ; but that 
the following was the prevailing one : *'The State is sub- 
. ordinate to the Church ; in a moral point of view the Church 
takes precedence of : the State even in chronological order ; 
I the Church is the first society, superior, eternal ; civil society 
lis only a consequence, an application of its maxims ; it is to 
rthe^spiritual authority that sovereignty appertains ; temporal 
^power .should be only its instrument"* 

.No ultramontanist could claim more than this ; and let it 

* "VBM est Babordonn^ HVEgWte: boub le point de Toemoml, daaB 
Tordre chronologique rnSme, rEgiiiM prScdde I'fitat; rEglite est Ia80d6t6 
premiere, sup^rieure, ^temelle ; la 80ci6t6 civile x^'jest qu'uae oons^qaeDoe, une 
application de ses maximes ; c'estau poayoir jspi^^el qu'appartient la souve- 
•rsinet^ ; le poaroir temporal ne doit 6tre que soa, ipftnunent."— JKifawv d$ ia 
Oimiimtian m France^ tome i, p. 69. 



1867.] TBS TEMPORAL POWER OF TBB POPE. S95 

be borne iu mind that Guizot is speaking, not of the eighth or 
seventh century but of the fifth. As already intimated, there is 
not one ofour third or fourth rate Protestant writers who does 
not insist on the forgery story in reference to Constantino. But 
investigators like Guizot know better ; and those who labor 
hard in search of truth are not apt to make falsehood of it 
afcer they have found it. Accordingly, Guizot tells us, in his 
third lecture on Civilization in France^ that '' Christianity 
mounted the throne with Constantine." '* La situatioude 
I'i^glise/' he adds* '* envers l'£tat a grandement change h 
cette 6poque. II serait^aKX de dire qu^elle est tomb<3e alors 
sous le gouvemment de I'Etat, que le systdme de sa subordi- 
nation au pouvoir temporal a prevalu. En g^n^ral, les em- 
pereurs n*ont pas pr^tendu r6gler la foi : ils ont accepts la 
doctrine de l';£glise/'* The same philosopher gives his 
opinion of the motives which actuated Pepin in ceding ter- 
ritories to the Pope. " The principal were," he says, the 
peril which the Lombards caused to the papacy, and the need 
which Pepin had of the Pope to sanction his title of King. 
The alliance thus formed produced two important results ; it 
raised in Gaul a new race of sovereigns, and it destroyed the 
kingdom of the Lombards in Italy; thus givins Gallo-Frankish 
civil and religious society an impetus in a direction, which 
tended to cause royalty to prevail ia the civil order and the 
papacy in the religious order."f 

Now, assuming that the Popes had no authority before 
this, their temporal power would still be older than that of 
any dynasty in Europe ; as old, at least, as that of Charle- 
magne — and how many dynasties have passed away since 
his time ? How many dynasties have ruled England, Spain, 
Portugal, Naples, &c.? Even the power of the Hapsburgs, who 
boast their descent from the Caesars, is modern compared to 
that of the Popes. May it not well be asked, therefore, why 
should they be disturbed in their sovereignty ? Who has a 
right to deprive them of their power ? What have they 
done, taking the good with the bad, to forfeit rights which 
have been recognized by the majority of Christians for at 

o Higt. de la Civilisatioii en Fmnoes, tame i, p. 78. 

f '* Denx cimonstADOGB particalidreti, le p^rii que lea LomborcU faisaient 
Gounr k la papaute, et le besoin qu'eut Feppiu da pape pour faire Baactioau^r 
Boa litre de roi, ea firenc uae 6troite ailUaoe. Elle 6levd d^oa la Uau.e UQe 
nouvelle race de souveralns, d^truisit ea lulie lo royauoae des LjinuarcU, ec 
pooBsa la wxAM gailo-franqae, civUe et xeligieose, dans une route qui teudait 
a&lre pr^Taloir dans Toidre civil la royaut^, daofljl'ordia imU^ox 1a pjip^atd." 
—HuUfire de la dvilitaUon en France, tome I, p. lllL 



296 THE TXHPORAL POWSB 07 THE POPE. [March, 

least fourteen centuries ? Yet it is nothing new for them to 
be attacked. If Pope Pius were dragged out of Rome to- 
morrow, he would not be the first Pope who was dragged in 
a similar manner. 

Of the many who protest with such strong indignation 
against the temporal power of the Pope because, as they 
tell us, it is so terrible an incubus on the people of the 
Papal States, it is evident that very few of them have any 
definite idea of the history of that people. For the infor- 
mation of such, we will here state a few facts, which they, as 
well as wo, can find in any respectable history of France, or 
Italy referring to that epoch. By a series of artful intrigues 
— ^perhaps like some at present engaged in — Philip the 
Fair of France caused the seat of the papal government to 
be removed, in 1 307, from Rome to Avignon, in France, 
where it remained until 1378. 

All who give any account of Rome during this period re- 
present its condition in the gloomiest colors. There were three 
parties in the city who, headed respectively by three power- 
ful families — the Savilli, the Orsini, and the Colonna — ^were 
almost constanly at war with each other ; and between them 
the people were cruelly oppressed. Prior to this experience, 
the latter rose several times in insurrection against the Pope, 
and more than once they expelled him. While the Popes 
were at Avignon, scarcely a month passed mthout an 
emeute at Rome. The oppoitunities thus afibrded induced 
CoUa Rienzi, in 1347, to attempt a revolution. During the 
temporary absence of the ruling senator, he excited a revolt 
among the lower order, who took up arms and expelled the 
nobles from Rome, and established a republican government, 
called the Good Estate. Rienzi had himself appointed chief 
magistrate, with the title of Tribune. His reign, however, 
was but brief; not content with wreaking his vengeance on 
the nobles, he soon began to act the tyrant towards his own 
friends — ^those by whose aid he obtained his power — and the 
result was that he was assassinated. 

This, however, was not the end of Republican government 
m Modern|Rome. Not long after the death of Rieuzi, magis- 
trates called Bannerets were duly elected by the thirteen 
districts into which the city was divided for that purpose, 
and they maintained their power by a militia of three thou- 
sand citizens. They, too, acted as if it was their duty to cre- 
ate disorder rather than order, to excite strife rather than to 
maintain peace ; they hanged many nobles in the public 



186?.] THE TEMPORAL POWER OF THE POPE. 197 

streets for little, if anything, more than their being nobles, 
while they allowed the banditti to plunder and hang nearly 
as many more as they felt disposed. 

This was the condition of the Eternal City when 
Gregory XL was induced, in 1378, by the earnest en- 
treaties of the people of Rome, to remove from Avig- 
non to the seat of so many of his predecessors. In 
proof of these facts also, we need quote no Catholic histo- 
rians ; we need not go beyond Hume, who, it is well known, 
has never spared the Church or the Popes when he had ny 
thing which he considered well founded to say agaf nt 
either : *' After the Pope had resided many years at Avi- 
gnon," says Hume, "Gregory XI. was persuaded to return to 
Some; and upon his death, which happened in 13S0, the 
Romans, resolute to fix for the future the seat of the papacy 
in Italyj besieged the cardinals in the conclave, and com- 
jMed them, though they were mostly Frenchmen, to elect 
Urban VI, an Italian, into that high dignity."* 

All did not do, however. When the kings of France 
could not prevail on the Pope to leave Rome by threats or 
promises, they had a pope of their own elected.! Now, 
IS it not remarkable that, if the Popes were such despots 
as they are invariably represented by partisan writers, the 
Italians and the French were equally anxious to have 
them amongst them, and that in proportion as the former 
had experienced the blessings of '* self-government " did 
this anxiety increase ? 

Thus, if Victor Emanuel seized his Holiness as if he were 
a malefactor, he would not be the first king who had seized 
on the Pope; but much greater monarchs than Victor 
Emanuel lived to see that, however much they showed their 
power and courage in making a captive of the sovereign 
pontiff*, it had been better for them to let him alone. 
This we will now proceed to show. We need not go 
farther back than the time of Charles (the Constable) of 
Bourbon (1528), who sacked Rome and captured the Pope. 
When the Constable got a reinforcement of 14,000 Germans 
to his already large and victorious army he thought he could 
dispose of Europe as he thought proper. We are told that 
his German soldiers, being inflamed by the novel doctrines 
of Luther, clamored to be led against the Pope. Bourbon 

o HiBt. of England, toI. il, p. 822. 

t Instance Robert, son of the Count of Geneva, who took the name of 
Clement YIL Q 



298 THE TUCPOBAL POWER OF THE POPE. [ICarch, 

was either unable or uuwilliDff to restrain them. Marching 
at their head with the whole imperial guard under his 
command, in the depth of winter, he arrived before Rome 
on the 5th of May, 1527. It was in vain that Pope Clement 
had in the meantime entered into a treaty with the viceroj 
at Naples. Being assured that there was no danger, his 
Holiness had disbanded the troops which he had raised on 
hearing that he was to be attacked. On arriving before 
the city, Bourbon did not hesitate a moment ; he gave 
orders to assault the walls at daybreak next morning. Not 
content with this, he insisted on planting the first ladder 
with his own hands ; but scarcely had he set his foot on it, 
when he was struck by a musket ball in the side, and fell 
back into the fosse mortally wounded. This afforded his 
fanatical army a new pretext for wreaking their vengeance on 
Rome. They stormed the ramparts and slaughcered the 
feeble garrison without mercy. The hordes of Alaric or 
Atilla scarcely perpetrated more horrible atrocities in any 
city they had captured than the Romans now suffered. 

This was not for a day or a week, but for seven months. 
It is easy to understand that neither life nor property was 
safe during this time. As for the Pope, no indignity was too 
gross for him; he was imprisoned in the Castle of St. An- 
gelo, where he was treated as a common malefactor. Al- 
though the Reformation had at this time made considerable 
progress in England,the English people,as well as the French, 
were horrified at the news of the barbarities perpetrated on 
the helpless Pontiff and his capital. Whatever were the 
faults of Henry VIIL, this strongly excited his indignation ; 
and he immdiately entered into an engagement with the King 
of France by which they were to get up a joint expedition 
as quickly as possible for the liberation of the Pope. When 
Charles V. heard of these preparations he pretended that he 
too was in the.deepest distress ; but instead of sending troops 
he ordered public prayers in all the churches of Spain for 
his deliverance. The truth was that Charles was jealous of 
the friendship between the Pope and Francis L, and, 
while affecting to be deeply concerned for his Holiness, he 
wished at heart to put an end to his temporal power. He 
thought all was settled now, and that the prayers would sati- 
isfy his Catholic subjects. But he soon learned that the 
French fand English were in earnest ; lor they captured 
AUessandria, Pavia, and Genoa in turn, although each was 
garrisoned by imperial troops. These rapid movements 



186*7.] THE TXHPOBAL POWXR OF THS POPX. SOO 

brought Charles to his senses; but so anxious was he to be 
rid of the antagonistic influence of the Pope that he persisted 
under one pretence or other, in retaining him in captivity 
until the allied army made its appearance * before Naples 
(April 29, 1528). Even then he did not liberate him until 
be was paid a ransom of 250,000 ducats, and received a sol- 
emn promise from the pontiff that he would do nothing con- 
trary to the imperial interest in Italy. It is almost needless 
to say that when the fanatics saw the Pope imprisoned 
like a malefactor, and Rome sacked in the name and by the 
armies of the chief of the princes of Christendom, they re- 
garded his temporal power, if not the papacy itself, as a 
thing of the past. 

But the history of Pius VI. and Pius VIL alone should 
be sufficient to satisfy any thoughtful person that it is 
not so easy to set the power of the Pope aside as so many 
would have us believe ; since it shows that France, even at 
the meridian of its power, proved unequal to the task. As 
Charles V. and the Constable of Bourbon mistook the fanat- 
icism of the German rabble at the time of the Reformation 
for the public sentiment of Europe, so did Napoleon Bona- 
parte mistake the anti-Christian sentiment of revolutionary 
France for the same opinion. Wise as Napoleon undoubt- 
edly was in many respects, he committed a great error in 
supposing that, because the revolutionists burned the Pope 
in effigy (1791) and passed a decree abolishing the Christian 
religion, he might easily accomplish what had so signally failed 
Charles V . and the Constable of Bourbon. Actuated by this 
impression, his first care, after his triumphs on the Adige and 
the Mincio against Austria, was to attack the Pope. He 
quickly overran the States of the Church, and dispersed the 
papal troops after a feeble resistance. In order to save 
Rome from being once more pillaged, PiusVI. signed an agree- 
ment by which he ceded to the invader the legations of Bo- 
logna, Ferrara, and the Bomagna, together with Avignon and 
its territory. In addition to this, his Holiness had to pay a 
contribution of fifteen millions of francs ; yet such was the 
rapacity of NapolecLU and his desire to convince those who 
had abolished the Christian religion, that he had as great a 
contempt for popery as themselves, he plundered the 
celebrated galleries of Rome of their choicest treasures, and 
robbed the churches of all he could convert into money. 
Now, at all events, it was thought by all^who disliked the 
Popes that their reign, at least as temporal sovereigns, was 



800 THE TEMPORAL POWER OF THE POPE. [March, 

nt end. Home was occupied by the French from November 
19, 1797, to August of the following year, when the com- 
bined forces of Russia, Austria, and England forced them to 
capitulate ; and by these three powers the government of the 
Pope was re-established. 

Napoleon was determined, however, that there should be 
an end to the power of the Pope ; accordingly his first care, 
as soon as the fortunes of the Republic began to revive, was 
to have him expelled from Rome. Even this was not deemed 
sufficient humiliation ; his Holiness was formally deposed 
February 22, 1798 ; and he died at Valence the following year. 
At the beginning of ISOOjPiusVn. was elected in exile ; he, too, 
was dethroned ; and he remained a prisoner at Pontainebleau 
till Napoleon's overthrow, when he was fully restored. 

In this brief sketch of the treatment received by the Popes 
from Napoleon, we have omitted many facts which are highly 
creditable to the former and as highly discreditable to the 
latter ; but to most of our readers they are sufficiently 
known. Napoleon admitted more than once, that his course 
towards the Popes was a serious mistake; but, he added, 
that he made the discovery when it was too late ; although 
it was it that induced him to re-establish the Christian religion. 
When he saw that in proportion as the misfortunes of 
the Pope increased, public opinion throughout Europe — 
even in Protestant countries — became more and more favor- 
able to his temporal power, he made a virtue, as usual, of 
necessity, and one day remarked to M. Fontanes, ** Savez- 
vous ce quej'aime le plus dans le raonde ? C'est Timpuissance 
de la force i fonder quelque chose." 

Those who are now firmly convinced that the Pope should 
forthwith be deprived of his temporal power would do well 
to bear in mind that it was not Napoelon alone who had 
learned in 1814, that force cannot set aside an idea which is 
deeply impressed on the public mind; all the Protestant 
powers of Europe, including England, recognized the same 
principle in regard to the Pope, and voted in favor of restor- 
ing him all &e territories of his predecessors. Nothing 
astonished Napoleon more than this; nothing could have 
more excited the indignation of the anti-popery fanatics. 
Lord Castlereagh was everywhere burned m effigy by the 
Orangemen as a traitor to Protestantism, because, what- 
ever were his faults in other respects, he scorned to be 
actuated by bigotry and fanaticism in deciding a question of 
such moment. 



1861.] THE TEMPORAL PJWEB OF THE POPS. 801 

But a still more recent lesson is forgotten. Even Pius 
TX,. was regarded in 1849 as forever dethroned ; fanatics 
in religion and politics proclaimed throughout Europe and 
America that the temporal power of the Pope was now dis« 
posed of forever. This was the manner in which Pius IX. 
was rewarded for attempting to introduce a system of pop- 
ular representation into his government for the purpose 
of gratifying the Romans. The more he gave the more he 
was asked to give ; and because he would not surrender all 
his power into the handsof demagogueSyan insurrection takes 
place through the influence of Mazzini, Garibaldi, and others, 
and the Pope is obliged to fly from his capital. Louis Napo- 
leon had profited by the experience of his uncle in dealing 
with the Pope; accordingly he did not hesitate to take the 
part of Pius IX. While it was boasted once more that there 
were no " States of the Church, '* any longer, a French 
army arrived before Rome. It was in vain that Mazzini and 
Garibaldi, with an army recruited from the banditti of all 
Italy, as well as of Rome, attempted to drive back the French. 
General Oudinot brought his cannon to bear on the city. On 
the 3d of July the "liberators" had ceased all resistance. 
The French entered the city, and restored the authority of 
Pius IX. 

Those who are most opposed to the temporal power of 
the Pope think that they have established their case when 
they tell us what an anomaly it is that any individual should 
be at once the head of the State and head of the Church ; but 
they forget that the governments which they represent as 
models are conducted on precisely the same principle. From 
the time of Henry VIII. to the present the kings of England 
have regarded themselves as the supreme heads of the Church, 
and their parliaments have fully sustained their pretensions. 
The 37th article of the Church of England expressly declares 
that '* the Queen's Majesty hath the chief power in this 
realm of England and other her dominions, unto whom the 
chief government of all estates of this realm, whether thty be 
ecclesiastiad or civil in all cases doth appertaiuf and is not nor 
ought to be subject to any foreign jurisdiction." Nor is this 
any mere matter of form now become obsolete ; it is strictly 
adhered to at the present day. 

In order that tnere may bene jarring of interests or con- 
flict of authority, the constitution of the Church of Eng- 
land is modelled on that of the State. The Church, too, has 
its upper and lower houses, known as the Houses of Convo- 



802 THB TEHPORAL POWER OF THE POP*. [March, 

cation ; but neither can assemble more than the House of 
Lords or Commons without an order from the sovereign. 
When the Archbishop of Canterbury receives this order he 
can convoke the two houses, not before. Even when they 
are assembled all they can do is to propose such measures 
as they deem necessary to the well-being of the church ; but 
those measures have no force whatever until approved of by 
the sovereign and parliamnet. Their royal and imperial majes- 
ties of Prussia. Sweden, Denmark, and Russia, exercise 
similar control in spiritual affairs. But no sensible person 
maintains that any of them ought to be dethroned' and 
expelled on this account. Nay, our own Presidents do not 
entirely disclaim the right of interfering in spiritual affairs. 
Is it not they, and not the bishops, or presbyters, of any 
church who proclaim days of thanksgiving, humiliation, 
prayer, &c., " to Almighty God " once, twice or three times a 
year, according as we are more or less fortunate in our busi- 
ness, or according as we are threatened with more or less 
serious calamities ? Will it be pretended that those kings empe- 
rors, and presidents are better qualified to decide questions in 
theology than popes are to decide questions in civil govern- 
ment? 

Now, in the name of reason, why is this broad distinction 
made between the temporal power of the Pope and that pos- 
sessed by other rulers ? Is it because he is richer than they ? 
Is it because his temporal position is that of a sinecure ? No 
one can reply in the affirmative. There is not one of the 
sovereigns mentioned so poor as Pius IX ; almost any of the 
petty princes of Germany has a larger private purse than his 
Holiness. We do not say that the States of the Church 
yield less revenue than the generality of the principalities 
of Germany. The revenue of the former is perhaps three 
times as large as any one of the latter ; but the Pope has to 
expend at least six times as much of his revenue on public 
institutions as the Prince has. There are but few who under- 
stand this ; even the Roman Catholic writers lose sight of it ; 
but it ia nevertheless a fact which can easily be proved with- 
out quoting any Catholic authority. 

lu an elaborate sketch of the Popes and their power by 
the lata Robert Southey, who was an eminent reviewer and 
critic as well as a poet, the following passage occurs : *^In 
estimating the expenditure of the Roman court we shall 
Testrlct ourselves to the causes of disbursement which are 
weuliar to the pontifical treasury. In order to support the 



186TJ THE TEICPORAL POWEB OF THE POPE. 808 

missionaries that have been sent to various parts of the globe, 
there are several establishments at Borne, and one in par- 
ticular, which, from its object, is called the * Collegium de 
propaganda fide.' To prepare persons for the undertaking 
of missionaries, and to establish seminaries for their education, 
has been an object of primary importance, and has called forth 
annual sums, which have formed a considerable part of 
papal expenditure. In this article may be added the support 
of several hospitals, asylums, schools, and colleges, founded 
by various popes for objects in their times pressing, and still 
maintained by the apostolical treasury. Moreover, the same 
treasury has to keep all the public edinces in repair, especially 
those immense palaces which, though of little use as resi- 
dences, are the receptacles of all the wonders of ancient and 
modern art ; to protect the remains of ancient magnificence 
from further dilapidation ; to support the drainage of the 
Pontine marshes; and, in fine, to continue the embellish- 
ment and amelioration of the capital and of its territory. 
When to these burdens we add the pensions which the pope 
is accustomed to settle on bishops when unusually poor and 
distressed, and the numberless claims upon his charity from 
every part of Europe, we shall not be surprised either at the 
expenditure ot an income not very considerable, or at the 
difficulties under which the papal treasury labored towards 
the end of the late pontiff's reign."* 

In addition to the various expenses alluded to in this 
extract, there are many others which are peculiar to the 
papal government ; and the greater number of all are for 
purposes which, if submitted to-morrow to a jury of learned 
Protestants, chosen for their intelligence and liberality, in 
all countries of Europe and America, would be triumphantly 
sustained as beneficial to the cause of literature, science, and 
art, not only in Rome or Italy, but throughout Christendom. 
All educated persons who have travelled understand this ; 
for the priceless treasures to be found in the libraries and 
art galleries of Rome, and whose preservation involves so 
large au expenditure, are not merely Catholic works, but 
embrace copies of all Pagan, Protestant, Mahommedan, and 
Hindoo works of distinguished merit which are known to 
be extant ; and there are many Pagan works of great value 
in the library of the Vatican of which there are no conies 
to be found elsewhere. None but those who have taken 
some pains to investigate the subject can form any proxi- 

•Vide'' Bees' CyclopeBdia, vol. xxyUi," art. F^ 



304 THE TIXPOBAL POWKR OF THB POFB. [March, 

mate idea of the large income it requires to maintain the 
libraries and galleries alone ; not to mention the colleges, 
pensions, Ac, &c., alluded to above, or the great churches, 
which are noble specimens of art themselves, and which no 
person of taste has ever beheld, be he Infidel, Mohammedan, 
or Protestant, without admiration and reverence. 

So much, then, for the wealth of the Pope, and for that 
avarice which we are told is the cause of those appeals which 
he sometimes makes to the Catholics of other coun- 
tries for pecuniary aid. The truth is, that no one who has 
spent one week in Rome and devoted his time to inquiries 
and researches would wonder if the Pope had to depend for 
half of the necessary expenditure of his government on 
** offerings'' from abroad ; whereas it is well known that the 
amount really received, even from wealthy Catholic France 
and Austria, is very small. 

Now for the grandeur and pomp of the papal office. If 
the position of the Pope be a sinecure, so is that of the poorest 
prince in Christendom, who has to be his own Prime Minis- 
ter, Secretary of State, Chancellor, &c., &c. We will quote on 
this branch of our subject the first Catholic authority we 
have given in this article — ^thatof the late Cardinal Wiseman 
—only premising that we have not been thus exclusive 
through any want of faith in Catholics, as such, but because 
all Protestants have not this feeling ; although we trust that 
there are few of our readers who think that an author is 
anything the less reliable for belonging to a church which 
has existed for nearly two thousand years and which is still 
that of more than two-thirds of Christendom : ^' Early 
hours," says the Enslish Cardinal, ^^a frugal table, monotony 
almost of pursuits, by the regular round of official audiences 
fixed for each day, and almost for each hour, unrelieved by 
Court festivities or public recreation, such is the life, more 
or less, of every successive Pope. He is not exempt from 
any of the obligations of his priesthood. He celebrates mass 
each morning and assists at a second celebration. He 
recites the breviary like any of his poorest curates ; his 
beads, too, most certainly, like any simple Catholic, both at 
home and abroad ; besides, probably, other special devotions. 
He listens to sermons, not merely formal ones in his chapel, 
but to real, honest preachings, strong and bold, by a Capii* 
chin friar, during Advent and Lent."* 

One hundred Protestants bear testimony to these facts ; 

* BaooUectioiu of the Last Four Popei, by hU Emlneaoe C^rdiiLil NVUemaa. 



1867.] THE TEMPORAL FOWSB OF THE POPE. 805 

that is, they testify that the office of the Pope, far from being 
a sin scare, is one of constant toil and anxiety. And whom 
has Pias IX. ever treated otherwise than in a kind, benevo- 
lent manner? Whom has he slighted or declined to see on ac- 
count of his being a Protestant? If his government sometimes 
interferes with Protestant clergymen — who, however well they 
may mean, are over zealous and consequently endangerthepub- 
lic peace — ^what government does not pursue a similar course 
under similar circumstances? Even our own government 
does not form an exception. How often have street preach- 
ers been arrested and put in prison in New York, Philadel- 
phia, and Boston, not because they preached heresy or were 
evil-disposed or vicious persons, but because whatever they 
preached it gave offence to many of their auditors, who, if 
not protected in their consciences by the authorities, would 
soon take the law into their own hands ? It is but fair to 
remember that twenty street preachers would not be as 
likely to create disturbance in New York as one Protestant 
clergyman would in Rome without leaving his church or his 
room, if he indulged in any violent attacks on the Catholic 
religion. 

There is not a city in Europe. Protestant or Catholic, in 
which any man, however learned and pious, would not be 
arrested and placed under restraint if his speeching or 
preaching excited so much commotion that he could not 
be protected by the authorities without having recourse to 
extraordinary means. But were all the facts dmerent — were 
Pius IX. harsh, overbearing, intolerant; did he carry his exclu- 
siveness so far as to allow no Protestant to reside in Rome 
on any conditions, still, neither we nor any other loreign'peo- 
ple would have a right to deprive him of his temporal 
power. As the case stands it would be less manly, ana cer- 
tainly not more just, on the part of the great Powers to attack 
his Holiness than to attack Switzerland ; for he is far weaker 
and would offer less resistance than the Swiss. Far be 
it from us to say that that noble little Republic ought to be 
subverted or deprived of its authority ; on the contrary, 
none would defend it more heartily than we. We speak 
of the Pope in comparison with Switzerland only because in 
more than one instance the same conqueror who seized 
the States of the Church and imprisoned the Pope also 
seized the Swiss cantons and imprisoned their chief patriots ; 
and the same Powers. Protestant and Catholic, that restored 
the Republic restored the Pope with all the territories of 
his predecessors. 

VOL. XIV- — NO. ZXVIII. 7 



806 OHATTEBTOX AND HIS WOBXB. [March, 



Art. IV. — 1. The Poetical Works of Thomas CHATrKRToy, with 
Notices of his Life, Eisiory of the Rowley Controvert^y, d:c. 
, 2 vols. Cambridge. 

2. Life of OhaUerton. By Dr. Gregory. 

8. Preliminary Dissertation to Rowley Poems, By Deak Milles. 

8. Warton^H Inquiry into the Authenticity of the Poems attributed 
to Rotoley, 

5. Tbble ds la Littiraiure au seizihne siicle. Par M. Yillrmaiw. 

Thk story of Chatterton is that of a wonderful life ; of a 
boy who, at the age of fifteen years, wrote tragedies, idyls, and 
ballads, for which he had invented years before, a form, 
utterly foreign to him and belonging to the darkest age of 
our history ; of an unfortunate youth who committed suicide 
when not eighteen years old. It is a tragedy than which 
human life can produce none more touching; full of agitated 
scenes, burning tears, unspeakable beauty, and most terrible 
despair ; the story of a boy scarcely entered upon youth, 
not dissolute either in iiis mode of learning, but rather indus- 
trious as the best of men, and yet at that first dawn of life 
already so weary of it, so utterly joyless and worn out, as 
to look upon death as his only friend. 

Woe to the man who, in the self-consciousness of extraor- 
dinary talents, surrenders himself to the doniinion of an 
insane intellectual pride, as if his talents and faculties of 
intellect gave him superiority over other men, and whom 
this arrogance has deprived of all moral feeling, leading 
him»from one crime to another woe. And woe to the 
man, who, with a cultivated perception of all that is beau- 
tiful, forgets, nevertheless, that the true ideal of beauty 
finds expression only in morality, and who, therefore, in a 
vain struggle for the abstractly beautiful, allows his inner 
self to grow into a misshaped caricature. Moments will 
come when the ugliness of this self shall flash upon him, 
and when the horrible torture of self-contempt shall slowly 
turn every drop of his blood into gall. Then even the 
delight at the beautiful will turn into an endless agony ; 
and in the consciousness of his own worthlessness the 
sight of the most charmins scenes of nature will only 
force from him wild sobs and bitter tears. The discord of 
his inner self he cannot but transfer into the outer world, for 
he lacks the faith in the power of human knowledge ever 



1 867.] CHAtTBRTON AND HIS WOBXa 80t 

to restore harmony otherwise. He sighs for a yisionary past 
age of the world, when all the earth was yet, as he supposes, 
wrapped up in one grand simple harmony, and when dis* 
coros were still unknown, which, he forgets, have first 
given birth to the only true music. Such an unfortunate 
man was Thomas Chatterton, born at Bristol, England, on 
the 20th of November, 1752. 

The tragedy begins and ends upon a graveyard. It be* 

g'ns upon the romantic graveyard of the celebrated St. Mary 
eddiffe cathedral, where the boy of ten years loved above 
all things to sit down on the grave of the great Bristol mer- 
chant and founder of this church, William Canyng, and 
there, lost in the contemplation of the ancient architecture 
of the building, to arouse the men of that remote age from 
their graves and maintain with them a secret, quiet, spirit 
communion. And at his call they did arise from their graves ; 
the dead bards and minstrels of that time whispered into 
the boy's ears melodies so strangely beautiful and touching, 
old lays so full of music and mournful sentiment, that he 
threw himself, wildly sobbing, on the green ground, wetting 
with scalding tears the graves of these strange appnritions. 
It ends upon the London pauper-grave, where the body of 
the unknown suicide was buried in a gloomy corner. 

The father of Chatterton was a school-teacher and mem- 
ber of the choir of the Bristol cathedral. He appears to have 
been a man of tolerable education and clear mind, but of 
rather unamiable character. He died three months before 
our Chatterton's birth. The mother of our boy-hero was, 
on the contrary, of a very amiable disposition ; a simple- 
minded and somewhat melancholy woman, profoundly loving 
her two children, little Thomas and his elder sister. The 
family was in poor circumstances, and after the death of 
her husband Mrs. Chatterton was forced to provide for her 
family by millinery work and by opening a day school. 

Young Chatterton soon developed into a bright, beauti- 
ful boy ; but his mind seemed at first strangely fettered.. 
He was very slow to learn ; it was only by great exertion* 
that he could be made to master the alphabet in his fifth 
year. All other children went ahead of him, and his mother 
cousidered her Thomas ^' a perfect dunce," and often told 
him this to spur him on ; because all the time he gave signs 
of considerable vanity. Thomas was indeed so dull that 
Mrs Chatterton had great fear he might be an idiot, and this 
fear was increased by the fact that insanity had been hered- 
itary in the family. 



808 CBATTXRTON AND HT8 WORKS. [Harcb, 

It was not until after his sixth year that the boy evinced 
a change. In the house of his mother there chanced to be 
an old manuscript prettily enclosed in a handsome cover, 
and illuminated with golden letters. This cover one day came 
into the hands of young Thomas, who was much delighted with 
its bright colors and urged his mother to teach him the let- 
ters. ** He was quite in love with it," says Mrs. Chatterton. 
An old black letter Bible next excited the child's curiosity, 
and Chatterton learned to read. And how he did read ! Every 
book he could get hold of .or borrow from friends was de- 
voured. He read from early morning till late at night, lit- 
erally. The lost time was now to be regained. This severe 
study, of course, produced a corresponding change in the ap- 
pearance of the child. The cheerful boy, with his bright, 
joyous eyes, became silent and moody, withdrawing himself 
from the plays of his companions and speaking but little. 
If at home, he locked himself up in his room and allowed no 
one to approach him. If out of doors, he hastened to the 
tomb of Canyng, or with his book mounted the high towers 
of the old cathedral, there to be alone with his^ dreams and 
wild thoughts ; for a powerful ambition had taken possession 
of his soul since he had become acquainted with the works 
of the world's great men. <* Paint me an angel with wings, 
and a trumpet to trumpet my name over the world," said he 
to a porcelain painter who wanted to paint a china cup for 
him. And he often promised his mother and sister lots of 
nice things when he should grow up as a reward of their 
care. At other times a sudden fit of weeping would come 
over him without any apparent causci causing his mother and 
sister great distress. 

When eight years old he entered the Bristol charity 
school. He did not like it there, because he thought he could 
learn much more at home and alone ; and considering that he 
learned nothing in the school beyond the elementary rules of 
reading, writing, and arithmetic, he may have been in the 
right. Still he exerted himself considerably and made rapid 
progress. In this he was much encouraged by the friend- 
ship of the tutor of the school, Philipps, to whom he 
inscribed one of his most beautiful elegies in later years. 
This Philippswasof a poetical disposition, often made verses, 
and soon became Chatterton's bosom friend and confidant. 
Fhilipps would often invite the children of the school to a 
sort of poetical tournament, in which Chatterton, however, 
never enlisted. Locked up, as it were, in himself, he only 



1867.] CHATTBRTON AMD HIS WOBKS. 809 

liflteDed to the poems handed in on those occasions as they 
were read by the teacher, and showed by no sign that *' he 
also had been born on the Parnassus." In fact, he seemed to 
have little affection for bis school comrades, probably con- 
sidering himself too much of a superior being. His whole 
life consisted in reading and dreaming. All the pennies 
his mother might give for pocket money found their way 
into the circulating library of the village. Whatever books 
he could find there were devoured with feverish delight — re- 
ligious, historical, biographical, poetical, and scientific works. 
Particular attention he devoted to the study of heraldry and 
ancient writings. In his ninth year he made a catalogue of 
all the books he had read ; they number seventy. 

In his tenth year he received the rite of confirmation, 
and appeared seriously impressed with the significance of 
this sacred ceremony. About this time he began occasion- 
ally to read poems of his own composition to his mother 
and sister — poems written in modern style and generally of 
a religious turn — some of which are yet preserved. One 
of these, a Christmas poem, is distinguished by a peculiar 
beauty and energy ot expression. He also wrote at that 
time several satirical poems, not without merit. His sister 
says : ^*He had been gloomy from the time be began to 
learn, but he became more cheerful when he began to write 
poetry." Some of these pieces, his first produotions, were 
published anonymously in a Bristol newspaper. 

About this time, also, the boy — ^not more than eleven 
years old — must have matured the project of originating 
one of the most remarkable literary forgeries of which the 
world has knowledge. We say ** forgeries," because we do 
not wish to appear partial — leaving it to the reader to modi- 
fy the expression as he may deem best. This project 'was 
to descend to the realm of the eternal ** mothers," and call 
up from thence a number of fictitious poets, to whom he 
would impart life and his own highly poetical spirit, thereby 
obtaining for these self-created phantoms immortal laurels 
and the admiration of all mankind to the latest ages. One 
poet, the noblest of them all — to be named Rowley — was 
to be the central figure of this mythical poet-circle, and was 
to arise, like a lost English Homer, before the eyes of as- 
tonished mankind from his grave, with old, worn-out parch- 
ment manuscripts in his hand as the undoubted proof of his 
antiquity. 

It is possible that this project was partly inspired by the 



810 CBATTIBTON AKD BIB WOBKB. [ICsrcfa, 

Ossian poems, which were first published in 1752, and the 
dispute about the genuineness of which bad just broken out 
with wonderful vehemence. As Macpherson was said to have 
breathed life into Ossian, so Chatterton perhaps resolved — 
living, indeed, as he did, almost exclusively in the middle 
sages — ^to charm into life a Rowley. And in order that no 
•question of genuineness might be raised as to Ait poet,Chat- 
iterton resolved to furnish him beforehand with faded and 
worn-out parchments, which would quench all dispute at 
>the very outset. 

But whence should he obtain these parchments ? Sup- 
^posing be were really able to cover new parchment with 
.'antiquated writing, and then to give the manuscripts an 
.honest ancient appearance, what account should he give to 
'the world of how he came into their possession ? A glance 
at the St. Mary Redcliffe cathedral gave the answer ; and 
the ^hole bold thought was completed in Chatterton's 
mind. 

This chiuBch had been built in the year 1470 by William 
Canynge, the great Bristol merchant alluded to above. 
In onctof its (towers six or seven iron chests had been placed 
in olden times for the reception and preservation of parish 
registers, documents, Ac The sexton of the church had 
also the care of these chests and their treasured contents. 
For a century and a half the Chatterton family had held 
this office of sexton, the uncle of our hero being the last 
one. In the year 1727, whilst one of the family still 
held the office in question, the keys to the chests were 
lost and the wardens of the church gave orders to break 
the chests open. This was done, and all valuable papers 
were taken out and placed in proper safe-keeping. But the 
other manuscripts with which these chests were filled, and 
\which did not relate to titles, births, &c., remained in the 
tchests, and curious visitors frequently took away one or more 
4>f them. The father of our Chatterton is known to have 
taken home whole baskets full of these old manuscripts, 
which he used for binding books, &c. Probably between 
his tenth and eleventh year Chatterton saw one of these 
parchments in his mother's house, and, being struck with its 
ancient appearance, he hunted up all the others which had 
i»mained untouched, hoarding them like a sacred treasure. 

These narchments then gave the answer which he 
aought. AM Bristol knew thac his father had possession of 
them, but no one knew what their contents might be. How 



186t.] OBATTIBTOK ANB H28 WORKS. 811 

easy for him, therefore, to say the manascripts with which 
he intended to furnish Rowley were the ^me which his 
father had taken home from the chests in the St. Mary cathe- 
dral. And as for the labor it would cost to forge the im- 
mense collection of manuscripts he should have to use for 
his Rowley poems, might it not be sufficient to counterfeit only 
a few short poems and to pass all the rest, written in ordi- 
nary handwriting, but in the same antique style, for copies 
of these old faded parchments ? Most assuredly ; only a 
few original manuscripts were absolutely necessary. 

Cbatterton's mother and sister are said to have insisted 
that he could not have entertained the project of his forgery 
before his fifteenth year ; and the reason given is that he 
had no knowledge of the existence of these old manuscripts 
before that time. But this is in itself very incredible, when 
we look at the character of Chatterton. However, we 
know positively — and this is about the only positive know- 
ledge we have of his schooltime, i. 6., until his fifteenth 
year — that while in school and most probably during the 
eleventh or twelfth year of his age Chatterton began to 
practise the forging of ancient parchments.* 

Shortly after his tenth year-H90 this far more credible 
report tells us — Chatterton commenced to lock himself up in 
his garret-rObm during his leisure hours and generally every 
Saturday afternoon, when there was no school. To this 
room he always carefully guarded the key, and in it he used 
to keep a quantity of paper, parchment, powdered charcoal, 
a large piece of ochre, and a bottle full of black lead pow- 
der. Whenever he was thus locked up he allowed no one to 
interrupt him or to enter his chamber. Indeed, from this 
time forth he rarely allowed any person to enter his room, 
and if at all only for a few moments. 

When he came out of this mysterious room his face 
was regularly covered with paint, which gave his mother the 
impression that he intended to disguise himself as a gipsey 
and run away. She was consequently very anxious about 
her son, and this anxiety was stUl further increased by his 
great melancholy and depression of spirits. The first 
result of this curious behavior on the part of Chatterton 

* It is also to be remarked that in his fifteenth year, while at Lambert's, 
Chatterton had neither time nor opportunity to forge these manuscripts ; for 
at Lambert '8 he slept in the kitchen with another boy . Moreover, his fumi>h- 
ing Borgum's pedigree proves conclusively that he knew of the existence o( 
these manuscripts several years before he went to Lsmbert's. 



812 CHATTBRTOK AMD HIB V0RK8. [Mardl^ 

whereof we have notice was a title of nobility manufac- 
tured by him for a conceited merchant of Bristol, Borgam 
by name. To this gentleman Chatterton one day intro- 
duced himself with the important commuuicntion that, in 
looking over a lot of old documents, he had discovered the 
family of Borgum to be of ancient noble extraction, and 
would be able to trace their pedigree to the time of William 
the Conqueror ; that the family descended from a Simon de 
Leynite Lyze, who had married Matilda, a daughter of Wal- 
theof, Duke of Northumberland. Borgum listened to the 
boy with mouth wide open, and besought him to furnish 
him a copy of the pedigree. Nothing easier for our young 
hero ! A pedigree was made out, duly adorned with 
ancient crests, marks, &c.t in the most approved style 
of antiquity. Generous Borgum gave the boy five shil- 
lings for this marvellous discovery ; for which parsimony 
Chatterton repaid him by some most bitter satirical 
verses in his ^^Last Will and Testament." Still the five 
shillings must have pleased him highly at the time, for 
soon after he made a second important discovery, whereby 
the pedigree of the Borgum family was carried still further 
back into antiquity. ** One of your ancestors," wrote he 
to Borgum, ^ was the greatest ornament of his age." 
*' He was called John de Bergham, and one of his poems — 
* The Bomance of the Knight' — I translate for you. He 
was the author of several books and translated some part 
of the Iliad." Whether Borgum gave Chatterton another 
five shillings for this second discovery and the translation of 
the poem we do not know. After Chatterton's death he 
went to London to have his pedigree examined, and of 
course discovered it to be a hoax. 

It is not perfectly clear whether Chatterton commenced 
the composition of his *' Rowley Poems " immediately after 
this first experiment or not. A friend of his asserts positively 
that he exhibited to him and to Philipps several of his Rowley 
Poems in the year 17C4. He maintains, moreover, to have 
seen in that year in Philipps' room the original manuscript 
of '^ Eliuore and Juga," one of the most exquisite produc- 
tions of Chatterton's genius ; and it certainly is remarkable 
that the original manuscript of this poem has never been 
discovered amongst his other manuscripts, all of which 
are now deposited in the British Museum. Chatterton 
exhibited to Philipps and this friend, a Mr. Thistlewaite, 
several poems, some on parchment, which were to represent 



1861.] CHATTXBTON AND HI8 WORKS. 813 

the original manuscript written by the mythical Rowley 
himself, and others on paper, which purported to be copies 
of other original manuscripts, which Chatterton said had 
been too faded and worn out to be still legible. Mr. This- 
tlewaite states that the parchments were pared round the 
margin, and that the letter writing was pale and yellow. 
The truth of this statement, as far as its contents are 
concerned, is indisputable ; only the date has been ques* 
tioned. If Mr. Thistlewaite is correct in the date, Chatter- 
ton must have written a majority of the Rowley Poems in 
his twelfth year ; and this appears indeed, at least to us, the 
most probable version. It' the reader doubt it, he may 
accept the statement of Chatterton's mother, that none 
were written before his fifteenth year. 

When young Chatterton had been seven years at school 
his mother resolved to send the boy — now fourteen years old 
— ^to study law with an attorney of the town named Lam- 
bert ; and, accordingly, Thomas was apprenticed to this 
gentleman for seven years. Whether this study was in 
accordance with the boy's inclination the mother seems 
never to have considered ; her only view was to provide for 
him. 

The poor boy-poet, who had fe]t lonely and doserted in 
Bristol even during his school years, because he knew not a 
single human being who could sympathize with him, by 
whom the narrow-minded spirit of tlie town was held in 
sickening detestation, now felt more lonely and sick at heart 
than ever. Full of a true poet-8pirit,bu8ied with grand pro- 
jects for future advancement, excessively proud, a lawyer's 
office was perhaps the worst place for young Chatterton. 
His only Bristol aelights were lost now ; his Saturday after- 
noons, bis holidays, bis little garret-room. He had to be in 
the office from 8 A« M. to 8 P. M., excepting one hour 
for dinner, and precisely at J P. M. he was required to 
repair to his sleeping-room in Mr. Lambert's house. And 
this sleeping-room was the kitchen, where he had to share 
his bed with the errand-boy. Chatterton's pride felt deeply 
hurt at this treatment. Mr. Lambert, moreover, appears to 
have been a man of low, imperious, and arrogant character, 
who could not tolerate Chatterton's disposition for poetry. 
Still he managed to write verses at times, some of which 
he sent to the newspapers for publication. He also wrote 
some love verses for a friend of his, Baker, who had 
emigrated to Charleston, South Carolina, and who had asked 



314 G1UTTSST0V AVD HIB WOBK8* [Mttrcht 

him to send him some lines wherewith he might woo his 
sweetheart. Chatterton himself cared little for the female 
sex. He once remarked to his sister that he would like 
well enough to become acquainted with an amiable 
woman, for it might soften his wild and proud character 
a little. The plan was tried, too, as it seems, but probably 
without success. He continued, at least, to live in the 
same secluded and moody manner. After his day's work at 
the office he generally went every evening to his mother's 
house, where he remained till near ten o'clock. He had, 
therefore, no time to frequent bad company, as has been laid 
to his charge; for even Lambert testifies that he was 
always faithful and industrious, and only at one time incurred 
a correction. This was when Chatterton had sent some 
satirical verses in a feigned handwriting to his old school- 
teacher. 

His manner of living was singularly frugal. He never 
ate meat, because he believed animal food to have a bad in- 
fluence on the mind. He also never partook of strong drink. 
A roll or piece of bread and a glass of fresh water consti- 
tuted his regular meal. Often his mother tempted him to 
sit down to a warm meal at home, but he invariably re- 
fused. *'I have a work on hand," said he; **I must not 
make myself more stupid than God has made me." He 
slept very little. **I study best," said he, ^'towards the 
full of the moon." Whole nights he would sit up in 
bed and write by moonlight. Sundays he generally em- 
ployed in making excursions into the country, enjoying 
nature, sketching ancient ruins, towers, &c. Often he was 
seen walking to and fro along the river bank in violent emo- 
tion, wildly swinging his arms about and uttering passion- 
ate words. Then his dark, fiery eyes, with their wild, un- 
earthly look, sparkled in wonderful ecstasy, until, breaking 
out into a sudden, violent fit of sobbing, the strange boy 
threw himself down on the ground. For many hours he 
could weep thus, in his pythonic ecstasies, over the 
lost Eden, of which but a moment ago he had dreamt to be 
a citizen. 

And it was these ecstasies and visions which, at midnight, 
by the light of the full moon, he wrote down in his 
Rowley Poems, of which he certainly wrote a number, and 
amongst others the grand tragedy of jEUat while in Lam- 
bert's house. In those hours of brilliant remembrance of 
his visions the phantom of time vanished altogether, and 



186T.] OHAmRTON AND HM WORKS. 815 

centuries rolled back as minutes. From their graves arose 
the old Saxon princes and troubadours ; from the tombs of their 
cloisters the monks ; from their strange mounds the wild 
Northmen ; and each bush and each moonbeam bore thou- 
sands of marvellous fairies. The mountains reverberated 
from the clatter of industrious gnomes ; mischievous spirits 
glided mysteriously through the woods ; and from the ven- 
erable ruins of ancient cloisters arose the miserere of pious 
monks. Amongst this ghostly people, in this buried cen- 
tury of the past, the boy-poet moved and had being in these 
midnight hours. Here all was poetry and harmony to his 
soul, while the present only repelled and disgusted him. 

And now for the first time we find him trying to palm off 
a forgery on the public at large, as if to assure himself that 
his ultimate project had no chance of failure. This was done 
as follows : In September, 1768, a new bridge had been 
inaugurated at Bristol. Shortly afterwards there appeared 
in a Bristol newspaper a detailed report of the ceremonies 
which had taken place at the inauguration of the old bridge, 
some centuries ago. This report was prefixed by the follow- 
ing lines : 

Mr Pbintsb — The following description of the Mayor's first passing 
over the old bridge, taken from an old mannsoript, may not (at this time) 
be naaoceptable to the generality of your readers. 
Yours, Ac, 

DlTNHBLMTJS BsiSTOLIBNSIS. 

This account threw the whole town into intense excite- 
ment ; the office of the newspaper was crowded with good 
citizens, who were anxious to know who had written the 
report and where the ancient manuscript could be found. 
Nobody was able to answer these questions, and Chatterton 
laughed in his sleeve at his desk in Lambert's office. Highly 
elated with the success of his scheme, he soon after sent a 
second manuscript to the same newspaper. The similarity 
of the handwriting led to the discovery of the author of the 
famous bridge account. , All Bristol was talking of the boy 
Chatterton, who had brought the ancient manuscript 
of the bridge ceremony to light. The excited citizens went 
to Lambert's office to learn from . Chatterton where the 
famous manuscript had been discovered. He refused all 
explanation. Threats were resorted to. The boy stead- 
fastly remained silent. Finally entreaties were tried, and 
then Chatterton stated that, he had discovered the manu- 
script amongst his father's parchments. This explanation 
was considered sufficient. Whether the parchment was 



816 OEATTiRTON Avo HIS WORKS, [March, 

pablicly exhibited is not known. Cbatterton had taken a 
piece of parchment, written the account upon it with a 
peculiar ink, and then held the document over a candle until 
it had received a blackened and old appearance. The sue* 
cess of his discovery filled Cbatterton with joy. Soon after 
this afiair he made the acquaintance of a Mr. Cat«cott, 
who appears to have been a highly cultivated man, and 
through this gentleman of a Mr. Barrett, who was at that 
time engaged in gathering materials for writing a history of 
the town of Bristol. This was exactly the thing for Chatter- 
ton. He exhibited to both friends some of his Rowley 
Poems, written upon parchment, which Mr. Barrett exam- 
ined carefully and pronounced genuine. Barrett suggested 
that the Rowley manuscripts might contain some historical 
data suitable lor his great work. *' Doubtless !" replied 
Cbatterton and promised to search. A few days after their 
interview he brought to Barrett a 'Hrue and particular ac- 
count of the ancient churches of Bristol." Barrett was de- 
lighted and gave Cbatterton a piece of money for his labor. 
This reward encouraged him to discover manuscripts not 
only of mythical churches, but also of mythical cas- 
tles, palaces, cloisters, &c. These descriptions and draw- 
ings (for Chatterton had learned to sketch buildings in the 
ancient style) were all handed to Barrett and incorporated 
by that gentleman in his very valuable history as curioys 
documents of a remote past. 

And now Cbatterton was certain of the success of his 
great plan. Full of confidence and hope, he prophesied his 
mother and sister a career of splendor and greatness. He 
showed his Rowley Poems, as if to test credulity, to a large 
number of his friends, or read them aloud with musical 
voice and poetical inspiration. 

On the 21st of December, 1768, in his sixteenth year, he 
made the first attempt at a publication of these Rowley 
poems. He ofiered the manuscript *'^lla, a Tragedy," to 
the well-known London bookseller, J. Dodsley, in a rather 
characteristic letter, which we shall quote hereafter. Mr. 
Dodsley either replied not at all or refused the offer. Prob- 
ably the statement of Chatterton appeared too mythical. 

By no means discouraged, he tried another, more daring 
experiment. He wrote a letter to Horace Walpole, Lord 
Oxford, a man of eminent literary and poetical renown, 
who had just published an interesting book, '* Anecdotes 
of Painting;" and in this letter he stated that be had 



1867.] CHATTXRTON AKD HIB W0BK8. 817 

discovered some very interesting ancient manuscripts on 
painting, of which he had taken permission to enclose 
one. 

This enclosed manuscript the extraordinarily gifted boy 
manufactured with great care. It purported to be an ancient 
treatise on *'the rise of painting in England, written by T. 
Bowley, 1469, for master Canynge," which he sagaciously 
interspersed with allusions to several unknown poets, speci- 
mens of whose talents, he said, he thought it not inoppor- 
tune to annex. The whole manuscript he accompanied with 
notes in his own handwriting, wherein he pretended to criti- 
cise the treatise from an utterly objective point of view, 
always laying particular stress on the beauty of the poetical 
works of that same Thomas Rowley, whom he had made the 
author of the treatise, which he asserted to have in his 
possession. '^ Rowley,^' said he, ''was a monk of the fif- 
teenth century." 

Walpole appears not to have doubted the statements of 
Chatterton, although afterwards he said that he had recog- 
nized the forgery at once. He replied with politeness and 
gratitude, and asked for further specimens^ as well of the 
anecdotes as of the poetry of Rowley, and of a certain 
Father John, whom Chatterton had also called into existence. 

Chatterton was delighted, and immediately sent a second 
edition of manuscripts accompanied by a letter, which, un- 
fortunately, has not been preserved, for in this letter he 
alluded to his disagreeable position, altogether unsuita- 
ble to his pursuits, and besought his Lordship to pro- 
cure him a proper place. His second batch of manuscripts 
comprised various poems and articles by divers mythical 
poets, painters, and architects ; also detailed reports con- 
cerning ancient church-windows, colors, &c. 

This was carrying things a little too far. Walpole began 
to suspect. He exhibited the poems sent by Chatterton to 
some competent friends, who immediately pronounced them 
forgeries. Thereupon he wrote to young Chatterton, 
advising him of the judgment pronounced by qualified 
critics upon his poems, hinting his own suspicions, and urging 
the youth to make a clear confession. Walpole appears 
to have done nothing to alleviate Chatterton's distress ; but, 
as matters stood, this was perhaps but natural. Chatterton 
replied to this letter, insisting on his former statements, and 
urging that it was by no means surprising Thomas Rowley 



818 OBATTBKTOV AND HI8 W0BK8. ^ [Harch 

should have written his poems in such beautiful harmony,* 
*' as Ossian's poems are altogether as harmonious." When 
we reflect that this Ossian was quite as mythical as Bowley, 
we are forced to smile at this daring attempt of Chatterton 
*< to place the elephant upon the tortoise," as Walter Scott 
expresses it. 

Walpole made no answer to this letter. Chatterton, in- 
dignantt wrote again, demanding that his manuscripts be 
returned to him. Again no answer came. The proud, irri- 
tated boy wrote a third letter, calliDg upon Walpole to 
<* either explain or excuse his conduct." Marvellous 
language, most certainly, from an untutored boy towards 
Lord Oxford. Walpole, who had been absent on a visit to 
Paris, received this letter on his return, and sat down to 
write a soothing letter, gently reproving his passionate cor- 
respondent. He abandoned the idea, however, tore up the 
letter, and returned the manuscripts to Chatterton without 
a word of comment And now again the high-tempered 
youth sank as suddenly from the highest pinnacle of hope 
into the lowest pit of despondency. Gloomy as he had been 
before, he now became a downright hypochondriac. For 
days he would not speak a word. In moody silence he sat 
at his desk in the law office, scarcely responding to the 
sallies of his comrades by a contemptuous smile. Often he 
would stare persons for five or ten minutes close in the face 
without uttering a word. He looked upon all mankind 
with hatred and disgust, and only for his mother and sister 
did he still entertain the same deep and unchanging love. 
His eccentric behavior inspired many with fear. Some be- 
lieved him insane; others considered him a stubborn block- 
head. His hatred of men turned even against his friends. 
He thought that Barrett and Catcott bed not given him 
money enough for his services. Probably he calculated the 
value of these services by estimating the manuscripts he 
had given them ason^noZ productions, which they certainly 
were; but this the friends of course never suspected, and 
hence thought a few shillings, occasionally, sufficient reward 
for the hunting up of some old manuscripts. An account is 
still in existence which Chatterton actually sent his friend 
Catcott. It is a characteristic piece of writing and reads as 
follows : 

* Chatterton's poetry has not that moDotonous harmony which ruled the 
world of poetry before him, and which was produced by words of similar 
sounds (alliteration.) His harmony was a true one, produced by syllables of 
different sound. Hence it has a flow of wonderful poetic beauty, does not 
tire, and is f uU of life and change. 



1867.] CHATTBBTON AKO HIS V0BK8. 819 

G. Oatoott. 

To the ExeeutoTB (^ Tho$. Eowle% 
To pleasure received in reading his historical works, £5. 6. 

" " " " " " poetical " £6. 6. 

£10. 10. 

His misanthropical disposition made him universally dis- 
liked, and some bitter satirical verses, moreover, made him 
some positive enemies. Once even he was knocked down 
on the street by a man whom he had thus insulted. In 
this gloom of soul his originally strong religious convictions 
were likewise giving way Dark doubts arose and made 
the chaos of his soul still more woful. He begto to doubt 
eveiything; he lost all firm hold. Often he meditated 
suicide. In a social circle where this subject was under 
discussion Chatterton suddenly pulled out a ^cket^pistol, 
held it to his forehead, and exclaimed : '* Now, it one had but 
the courage to pull the trigger! " 

With all this he still pursued his studies with untiring 
energy. His versatile mind was resolved to master all 
sciences and knowledge. ** For God," it was his wont to 
say, *' has sent his creatures into the world with arms long 
enough to reach everything, if they will only take the pains,*' 

Heraldry, metaphysics, astronomy, mathematics, natural 
sciences, all books that fell in his way, he sought to master. 
He even studied music, and with particular predilection the 
science of medicine. He borrowed from Barrett all that 
gentleman's books on surgery, and pondered over them as if 
he cared for no other study in the world. He also studied 
Latin diligently ; and amidst all these studies and his 
daily drudgery he yet found time enough to write a number 
of poems, mostly of a satirical character. For satire he 
had, indeed, a strange and unnatural liking ; and his pro- 
ductions on this misanthropical field may be safely compared 
with the works of Swift and Dryden* Most of his poems he 
sent to London to public papers. His larger satirical poem, 
*'Kew Gardens," was also written at this period, in March, 
1769, but was not published until after his death. At the 
same time he kept up his passion for literary forgeries, and 
wrote to many persons in high position on antiquarian 
subjects. The tone in which tiiese letters were written is 
altogether that of an infallible master, who knows more 
about the matter under discussion than any other living 
being. His chronic melancholy and the despair which had 
taken possession of his soul made him often meditate sui- 



820 CHXTTKBTOK AND HIS V0BK8. [MaTCh, 

cide, as we have said. One day Lambert found a letter on 
Chatterton's desk addressed to his friend Clayfield, wherein 
he mourned his misfortune and expressed his resolve to 
commit suicide. •'When you receive this letter," wrote he, 
** I shall be no more." 

Laml^ert, excessively terrified, hurried to Mr. Barrett as 
Chatterton's most intimate friend and showed him the let- 
ter. Barrett, who always had a real affection for the pas- 
sionate boy, went to Chatterton, showed him the letter, and 
began earnestly to reprove him and to point out the fool- 
ishness and cowardice of his purpose. He wept much 
during the delivery of this lecture, and replied next day 
to it in a letter, which we shall place before the reader 
in all its agony, bitterness, and heavy sorrow; and no 
one who has read the writings of Edgar A. Poe can 
fail to recognize a remarkable similarity in the tone, style, 
and despairful weariness of this letter. Nay, even the 
handwriting of it — ^the round, slowly written letters, so clear 
and elaborate, and the thick, heavy lines in the word Pride 
and the still heavier-accented Die-— all these individual pecu- 
lidrities might as well pass for those of the American poet of 
the "Raven" as of the boy Chatterton. 

The letter is as follows: 

Sib — IJpoQ reoolleotion, I don't know how Mr. Clayfield conld come 
by his letter, as 1 intended to have given him a letter bat did not. In 
regard to my motives for the sapposM rashness, I wiU observe that I keep 
no worse Company than myse^; I never drink to Excess, and have, with- 
out Vanity, too mnoh Sense to be attached to the mercenary retailers of 
Iniquity. No, it is my pbide, my damn'd nature, nnoonqaerable Pbxdb, 
that plunges me into Distraction. Ton must know that 19-20th of my 
Oomposition is Psids — ^I most either live a Slave, or Servant ; to have no 
will of my own, no Sentiments of my own which I may ft'eely declare as 
snch ;— or Die. Perplexing alternative! but it distracts me to think of 
it. I will endeavor to learn Humility, but it cannot be here. What it 
may cost me in the Trial Heaven knows! 

I am yr. much Oblidged unhappy 

hble Serv. 

T.O. 
Thursday Eveng. 

'* I will endeavor to learn humility, but it cannot be 
here/' Often already had he expressed the wish to live in 
London. London was the Eldorado of his imagination. 
With such talents, cunning, and knowledge of human nature 
as he possessed, how could he fail of making his fortune in 
the great city ? Did he not feel strong enough to lead all 
mankind by the nose ? Did he not experience in his heart 
of hearts that most sovereign contempt of mankind which 



1867.] CHATTEBTON AND HIS W0BK8.* 321 

conceive itself strong enough to oppose all the world, 
heaven and hell Into the bargain? To London, therefore, 
in order to learn " humility." Alas, humiliation of the 
bitterest sort was there prepared for him ! Unspeakable 
tortures for his pride ! Agonizing torments for his presump* 
tuous superiority of mind ! 

But how go to London without money ? And where to 
get money ? He imparted his plan to Mr. Barrett, and his 
'^ pride" did not send a blush of shame to his cheeks when 
this unselfish friend, whom he had so disgracefully cheated 
time and again, offered him a guinea to pay his travellinff 
expenses; nay, Mr. Barrett took even the trouble and 
responsibility to ask other friends of Chatterton to sub- 
scribe the same amount, and he eagerly accepted these contri- 
butions. We again discover in this curious mixture of un- 
bending pride and low meanness a remarkable similarity be- 
tween the characters of Poe and Chatterton. 

And thus he finally left his hated latv office and took the 
road to London. Before leaving, however, on the 14th of 
April, 1770, he had made his '^last testament;" a half 
poetical production, wherein the expression of contempt of 
mankind and of the utter despair of the poet borders upon 
insanity. Not without a cold shudder and the most 
wretched feeling of misery can one read this remarkable 

S reduction, which gives us adeep insightinto the chaotic con- 
ition of Chatterton's soul and his horrible wretchedness. 
On the back of this document are endorsed the following 
words: " All this wrote between 11 and 2 o'clock Satur- 
day, in the utmost distress of mind." 

Chatterton was naturally of a sanguine temperament. 
His character seems to have originally determined him for an 
idyllic landscape poet. His proper frame of mind was quiet, 
cheerful, excessively serene. His best poems are written in 
this mood. But there was an impure demon in him, who 
would awake with the suddenness of the whirlwind and 
sweep away from his heart all that was humane, good, and 
lovable. Then he became a devil ; acted, spoke, and wrote 
like a fiend. But with the same quickness the spirit of 
evil would depart, and after a refreshing shower of tears 
the sun would shine again with all the brilliant cheerfulness 
of Olympian Apollo, as if there were no sob or sigh in the 
universe. 

Hopeful, therefore, and with the brightest visions of 
future glory, Chatterton entered London. His first letter 

VOL. XIV. — NO. XXVIII. 8 



823 CHATTERT02^ AKD HtS VORKS. [March, 

(April 26th) addressed to his mothei^breathes cbeerfulnes 
and enthusiasm. Everything goes welL The booksellers 
and editors of periodicals received him favorably. One 
publisher gives him a regular salary of four guineas per 
month, and another four guineas he hopes to realize from a 
'* History of England," on which he is engaged. These 
eight guineas are to be laid aside for his mother and sister ; 
his own expenses he hopes to meet by writing for a daily pa- 
per. He is delighted by the grand style of life in London, 
and speaks contemptuously of the narrow-minded citizens of 
Bristol. 

Letters of a later date ftre still more hopeful. He writes 
occasionally operettas for a theatre, comic songs for concert 
gardens, and commences to dress well *' in order to gain ad- 
mittance into higher circles." He advises his sister to take 
lessons in drawing, music, &c., and hopes soon to see her 
and his mother with him in London. He sends them also a 
few presents, not forgetting to enclose a small quantity of 
** good tobacco " for his grandmother and a handsome pipe. 

And now he ventures upon a more dangerous sea. With 
characteristic contempt of mankind and overestimation of 
his own powers, he considers that it would be, after all, 
most delightful if he could fool these contemptible human 
beings on the sphere of politics and there display his inborn 
superiority. It seems as if the character of Vivian Grey^ in 
Disraeli's famous novel, had been suggested by this episode 
in Chatterton*s life. He writes a flattering letter to the 
Lord Mayor of London, Beckford, unfolding his political 
projects. Beckford received the letter favorably and in- 
vited the young man to a personal conference. Chatterton 
went anj was received with great cordiality. '*The rest 
is a secret," he writes to his sister. ** My society," he 
adds, "is now sought everywhere. I must be amongst the 
great; State matters suit me better than commercial." But 
while thus writing for the •' liberal " Beckford " liberal " 
essays, the " proud " boy was not ashamed to write at the 
same time anti-liberal essays for the " administration party. "" 
Nay, there are still two letters of his in existence, one of 
which Is addressed to the Lord Mayor denouncing the ad- 
ministration in unmeasured terms, while the other, addressed 
to Lord North, is an energetic defence of the administration. 
Both of these letters bear the same date. At the bottom 
of his heaii; Chatterton appears to have been a democrat and 
liberal ; and hence he must be blamed all the more when) he 



186T.] OHATTBRTOy AHD HIS WORKS. 323 

writes to his sister in excuse of this conduct : ** But the devil 
of the matter is, there is no money to be got on this (liberal) 
side of the question. Interest is on the other side. But he 
is a poor author who cannot write on both sidesJ' The 
truth is, Chatterton was just as devoid of all moral per- 
ception as Poe. The conceptions of right and wrong never 
appear to have entered his heart, and his only desire was 
to have his *• intellectual superiority " — this odious idol of 
modern days! — acknowledged, and to sneer over the duped. 

It must be confessed, however, that his political writings 
evince great talent. Their style is noble and chaste, not 
unlike that of Junius. During all this time he continued 
his other occupations. He wrote several imitations of Ossian, 
a number of songs, and a burlesque, •* The Revenge, " for a 
concert garden, where it was performed after his death. For 
thislatter work he received five guineas. His style of living 
in London, was as temperate as it had been at home. Dur- 
ing his sojourn in this city he was but one night absent from 
his boarding place, and that night he had gone to spend with 
some relatives. 

But suddenly misfortune came upon him. , His friend 
and protector, Beckford, died ; the booksellers refused to 
buy, and did not even pay what they had bought before. 

This change again threw Chatterton into violent despair. 
He was forced to change his boardijg-house for a more 
wretched garret, and there his old melancholy fell upon 
him heavier even than before. One more attempt he made 
to save himself. He wrote to Barrett asking him for a 
physician's certificate, which might serve him to get an ap- 
pointment as assistant surgeon on board of a vessel destined 
for Africa ; and during the brief interval of hope which this 
prospect gave him he wrote his beautiful " African Ec- 
logues." And this last hope failed. Barrett could not 
conscientiously give him such a certificate. Apd now there 
was no more '^balm in Gilead." Hunger came,.too, and not 
a penny in Chatterton's pocket. Invitations of his friends to 
dinners and suppers he regularly refused ; only once was he 
prevailed upon to partake ot an oyster supper. Three days 
before his death he walked with a friend over a churchyard 
and suddenly tumbled over a newly dug grave. When he 
scrambled out his frien^ remarked : <' How happy am I to 
have witnessed the resurrection of Genius ! " *• My dear 
friend," replied Chatterton, " I feel the sting of a speedy 
dissolution ; I have been at war with the grave for some 



324 CHATTiRTOH AND Hifl W0BK8. [March, 

time, and find it is not so easy to vanquish as I imagined ; 
we can find an asylum from every creditor but that." When 
he came home he went to his room and locked himself up. 
Two days he remained thus alone — two eternities of most 
terrible self-communion. What horrible curses, what 
wretched tears may those two days have witnessed. His 
landlady, who knew that he had tasted no food during these 
two days, sent him up some dinner at last. He refused to 
accept it, and said simply: *'I am not hungry!" On the 
third day, the 24th of August, 1770, he drank a glass 
of water with arsenic. When evening came the door was 
forced open, and Chatterton was discovered lying dead on the 
floor : his restless eyes now glassy and immovable, his lips 
pale and closed. The floor was covered with torn up manu- 
scripts. Many beautiful works had probably been destroyed 
by him in these last hours before death ! No. letter, no 
note had been left to explain his suicide. The jury gave a 
verdict : ** Suicide, committed in a fit of insanity." The 
body of the unfortunate youth was taken and buried in the 
pauper's churchyard in Shoe lane. 

Thu« died and was buried the poet, Thomas Chat- 
terton, at the age of seventeen years and nine months — an age 
when most men have not yet taken the first step into real life. 
Thus he died, over-satiated and shrinking back from the too 
clearly perceived dark sides of life, with man-hatred and world- 
contempt in his boyish heart. It is foolish to represent his 
suicide as an outbreak of insanity, which Is said to have been 
hereditary in his family. There is a vast difierence be- 
tween phyfdcal insanity ai;d that self-created eccentricity 
springing from extreme self-conceit, boundlesss pride, and 
stubborn perversity, which pleases itself in whatsoever is unus- 
ual, horrible and a caricature, and which looks in its perverse 
irony upon suicide as a challenge totheDeity for the prize of a 
self-determination. Chatterton killed himself, not because 
he was hungry, not because he had no friends, for he had 
many and warm friends, and not because he was too ambi- 
tious, but because he looked with sovereign contempt upon 
all mankind and upon himself. ** Myself is my worse ene- 
my !" Such was his own characteristic ; and with this con- 
tempt of himself and all others, which made him take a devil- 
ish pleasure in treating others as well as himself like dogs, 
he could not live ; for self-esteem, as Eant beautifully re- 
marks, is the salvation and nobility of mankind. 
In this contempt of all the world Chatterton agaip resem- 



1867.] OHAITBBTOK MXB HIS W0BK8. 825 

bled our Poe. Poe gave expression to this satanic feeling in 
some of his writings, choosing, as he did on such occasions, 
the most disgusting and horrible themes, and on other oc- 
casions in literary trickeries or drunken maltreatment of his 
own person. The classical, fine feeling Chatterton, with 
more of an antique or Gd the character, gave this devil his 
due in literary forgeries and a Werther suicide. As we have 
mentioned the name of Q6the in connection with that of 
Chatterton, we -shall hereafter show with what propriety. 
At first view it would appear as if the man whom we 
had compared to Poe would be of all others the last one 
to name in the same breath with GMthe. But the solution 
lies in this fact — that while the character of the man Chatter* 
ton is so like that of Poe, as a poet there is no similarity what- 
ever between the two. 

Chatterton's poems are nearly all pervaded by a spirit of 
classical repose utterly foreign to Poe. They breathe a har^ 
monious, contented, peaceful, and idyllic spirit. His idyls 
particularly are of enchanting beauty, purely objective and 
naive, without a tincture of sentimentality. 

Two spirits seem to have inhabited Chatterton's breast 
— the one the poet-spirit, cheerful, serene, and divine, full of 
hope and glowing love, hanging with tender affection upon 
the breast of the whole universe and looking upon the lowest 
worm of nature as an object of unspeakable value ; the other 
a dark, moody, repulsive, and negative spirit. Had Chatter- 
ton lived longer and hit upon books more suited to his 
nature, he might have probably worked himself out of 
this darkness and negative to universal clearness and light. 
As it was, death had to cut the gordian knot. 

Chatterton's personal appearance was of a very prepossess- 
ing and agreeable character. His body had been as prema- 
turely developed as his mind. His bearing was dignified, 
aristocratic, and manly. His gray eyes shone with supernal 
glory and flashed forth sparks of lightning in a truly terrify- 
ing manner when he was excited. " They were a sort of 
hawk's eyes," says Catcott ; and one of the eyes was larger 
and brighter than the other. 

Before Chatterton's departure from Bristol some of his 
Rowley poems had appeared in the public prints and had at 
once created an intense excitement in the literary world of 
England. Gradually others were published, and there arose 
the famous Rowley controversy which divided all literary 
men of Great Britain into two parties. One of these parties 



826 .CHATTBBTOK AND HIS WORKS. [March, 

disputed the genuineness of these poems, urging weighty 
enough arguments, as we shall see directly* Investigations 
were, therefore, set afloat to discover the poet-genius who 
bad dared to attempt this cheat. Who shall describe the 
general astonishment when a boy of sixteen years was found 
to be the originator of these poems, and this boy asserting 
stoutly the genuineness of these productions, which he pre- 
tended to have discovered amongst the heaps of manuscripts 
from the iron chests of St. Mary Bedcliffe. Nothing could 
make him retract this statement. He has never, by a single 
word or hint, suggested that he was their real author. This, 
his positive statement, and the extraordinary youth of the 
boy, which seemed to preclude all possibility of a cheat, 
gave great delight to the antiquaries who bad insisted on the 
genuineness of the Rowley poems. And how, indeed, was it 
credible that such magnificent productions should have been 
written by a country boy in his fifteenth year? The dispute 
was kept up hotly ; we only need to add that to-day nobody 
doubts any more but that Chatterton was really their author 
and that all his statements concerningjthe existence of Thomas 
Rowley, Father John, &c., were pure fabrications and lies. 
Ttie chief proofs of this conclusion are as follow : 

While the general character and spirit of the Rowley 
Poems are certainly altogether mediaeval, their style, lan- 
guage and rhythm are equally and indisputably modern. 
Chatterton could feel, think, and act like a poet of the middle 
ages ; but he could not speak their jargon nor write in their 
wretched metres and rhymes. Every Rowley poem shows 
clearly that it was written at first in modern English, and 
thereupon translated by the aid of dictionaries into their 
present antiquated dialect. The fact that the purely an- 
tiquarian words which occur in these poems are collected 
from various dictionaries appears chiefly from this — that they 
are of variotts dialects^ and while some belong peculiarly to 
the eleventh and twelfth centuries, others are as late as the 
fourteenth. Then, again, there are innumerable passages in 
these poems wherein the spelling needs only to be altered 
a little in order to have correct modern English. But why 
Chatterton should undertake this forgery, and how he came 
to do it at so early an age, it is difiicult to explain, unless 
one chooses to admit a boyish and not after all so very strange 
inclination in extraordinary men to mystify the public* It 

* In a letter to Schiller, Q6the complaioB that he is oontroUed bj an inex- 
pUcabie tynnny, which makes it impossible for him to imte*4icywa hia tnift 



186t.] chXttbrton and bis works. 887 

seems as if he might have published the poems under Bow- 
ley's name — ^ift he chose to do this at all — and then after- 
wards have discovered the true state of affairs. But, to be 
sure, when he once commenced to forge parchments, he shut 
up all avenues of extricating himself. 

In the history of literature the case of Chatterton is 
without a parallel. It may be that he found more pleasure 
in admiring his own cunning; and intellectual superiority as 
displayed in the forgery than in having his poetical talent 
admired by others. 

We shall now proceed to examine the works of thib 
extraordinary poet-boy, wherein we hope to iBdd a beauty 
not recognizable in his sad and wild life. And, first of all, let 
us look at the most famous of his productions, the Rowley 
Poems. Not all of these poems bear the name ot Thomas 
Rowley. The fertile imagination of Chatterton had created 
a whole world of mythical persons, speaking a mythical, 
peculiar language for his purpose. With this world he had 
made himself so familiar as to feel more at home in it than ^ 
in the real world. In this his fancy world he built peculiar 
churches of unknown architecture, or framed strange muBical 
instruments (violins, for instance, of fabulous antiquity), or 
found remote and ancient pedigrees, or discovered marvellous 
historical events, as might best suit his purpose and be 
best applicable to his dupes. And since he had resolved to 
make, above all, the reading public his dupes, he had 
peopled this world of his with a host of wqnderful poets, 
each baptized and named by Chatterton with immortal name. 
For what did he care about his own glory and fame 1 Had 
he not a whole life before him and within his heart an 
inexhaustible wealth of heavenly beauty? What a petty 
sacrifice, therefore, to relinquish part of bis fame to his own 
creatures, to the mythical poets of his brilliant fancy ! 
Hence the collection published now under the name oi 
Rowley Poems is presented to us by Chatterton as a number 
of poems written in an ancient style, somewhat difficult to 
understand, and which he, the happy discoverer of these 
relics of the middle ages, presents to us in an altogether 
objective and impartial manner, accompanied by some 
notes, critical remarks, and explanations, as remarkable an- 
thology of mediaeval, unknown poets. 

The historical and celebrated Bristol merchant, Canjmg, 
I ___«^ . ' 

conviction and compels him to mystify. ''^Between myself and the ex* 
presfiion of myself an inexplicable something always places itself as an ob* 
tade." 



828 CHATTlfitON AND HIB WOBKB. [Maich^ 

is thus made to write theiprologue of the tragedy " Gtodwyn.' 
A mythical priest, John Ladgate, writes an epistle to the 
equally mythical Thomas Rowley. The two magnificent 
epic poems, ** Battle of Hastings," are represented as haying 
been written by '^ Target," the monk, J< a Saxon of the tenth 
century," and as having been ** translated by Thomas Row- 
ley, priest in St. John's parish, Bristol, in the year 1465." 
Of course Turgot, of the tenth century, writes ip the 
same exquisite modern style which characterizes the other 
poems of Rowley. To (inother mythical John de Bergham, 
whom we have mentioned already, Chatterton ascribes '< The 
Romance of the Knight." Another delightful poem, ** The 
Parliament of Spirits," he states to have been written 
by the mthyical Rowley and the equally mythical Iscam. 
We shall dwell somewhat at length upon these poems, 
as they are very little known and exhibit Chatterton's 
talents in the most brilliant light. The truly great and 
divine in literature is not sucn an every-day affair that 
we can afford to throw these gems into the dust-room. On 
the contrary, the period of naive poetry is so remote and so 
immemorable that each of its magnificent productions de- 
serven to be carefully treasured. 

We shall commence with Chatterton's greatest work, 
the tragedy, jEUa^ which he calls a " tragical interlude," 
and a sketch whereof may not be uninteresting to the reader. 
The action of the tragedy is very simple, ^lla, a Saxon 
prince who h^s acquired much renown in making war upon 
the Danes, has just led his beloved Bertha home from church 
as his wife. In highly poetical language he expresses his 
happiness at being now in possession of the one for whom he 
has yearned so long ; while she, not daring to express her 
own happiness, '^because maidenly modesty will not permit it," 
delights in celebrating his glorious deeds and in showing her 
pride in him. They are interrupted in these mutual out- 
pourings by Almonde, their common friend, who congrat- 
ulates them and offers them some jugs of ale as a wedding- 
present. Before this and in the very first scene of the play 
this Almonde has appeared upon the stage in a short mon- 
ologue, wherein he has expressed his consuming love for 
Bertha, which prompts him rather to poison her and her hus- 
band in their bridal night than to be haunted by the thought 
of her reposing in Ella's arms. His congratulations are there- 
fore hypocrisy, and the ale contains the poison which is to 
end the lives of husband and wife. 



1867.] OBATTKBTON JkKD HIS WOBKS. 829 

Still further to initiate the revel, as it were, Almonde 
beckons some minstrels and urges them to perform. They 
sing of the wooing of a shepherd in a delightful duet, 
which has atl the charms Chatterton knew so well how to in* 
fuse into his idyllic compositions. ^Ua desires a second song, 
in which he wishes them to sing the joys of marriage. There- 
upon the minstrels strike dp an alternate chant, the poetic 
fervor and beauty whereof must captivate every feeling heart. 
We quote two of the verses, from which the reader will also 
learn at once the sublime metre which pervades the entire 
tragedy : 

'^When autumn bare and san-bnrnt doth appear, 

With his gold hand gilding the falling leaf, 
Bringing np winter to fulfill the year. 

Bearing upon his back the ripened sheaf 
When aU the hills with fallen seed is white; 
When lightning fires and lemes do meet from far the sight ; 

When the fair apple, red as evening sky, 

Doth bend the tree unto th^ fertile ground ; 
When iuicj pears and berries of black d je 

Do dance in air and call the eye around ; 
Then, be the even foul or even fair, 
Methinks my heart's deep joy is staindd with some care.^' 

When the minstrels have finished their song the prince 
rewards them, and is on the point of inaugurating the night's 
rei^ when a messenger hurries in to report the approach of 
two Danish princes, Magnus and Hurra, with armed force8,and 
to urge ^lla to prepare without delay and attack the enemy. 
This interruption gives occasion to a dialogue between iBlla 
and Bertha, of which Shakespeare might be proud. She 
seeks to keep him and reproaches him with want of love. 
He .shows her the call of duty, and when she finally yields 
he calls out : 

" Thy mind is now thyself; why wilt thou be 
AU fair, aU kingly, all so wise in mind, , 
Alone to let poor wretched ^Ua see 
What wondrous jewels he must leave behind t 

I Bertha fair, watch every cotning wind. 

On every wind I will a token send; 
On my long shield engraved thy name thou'lt find.^* 

Almonde interrupts them and reports that the knights 
are all in arms and waiting for their leader below. iSUa tears 
himself away from his wife. Almonde is left alone, and dis- 
covers his character most admirably in the following mono- 
logue : 



880 GHATTERTOH AND HIB ITOSKS. [Harch 

*' hope, Lolj sister, sweeping throagh the sky 

In crown of gold and robe of holy white, 
Which far abroad in gentle air doth fly, 

Meeting from distance the enraptured sight, 
Albeit oft thou takest thine high flight, 

Wrapped in a mist and with thine eyes yblente, (1) 
Now comest thou to me with starry light. 

Unto thy robe the red sun is adente ; (2) 
The summer tide, the month of Majr appear 
Fainted with skilled hand upon thy wide auinere. (3) 

I, from a night all hopeless, am adawed, (4) 

Astonished at the festiveness of day ; 
iElIa, by naught more than his glory awed, 

Is gone, and I must follow in the fray. 
Almonde can ne'er from any battle stay. 

Doth war begin ? there''s Almonde in the place. 
But when the war is done Pil haste away. 

The rest from 'neath timers mask must show its face, 
I see unnumbered Joys around me rise; 
Bare standeth future doom and joy doth me alyse. (5) 

honor, honor, what is by thee had ? 

Happy the robber and the cottager 
Who knows thee not and is not by thee led, 

And nothing does tliy myckle gastness (6) fear. 
Fain would I from my bosom all thee tear, 

Then there, deep scattered, thy lightning brand. 
When my souPs withered, thou art the gare ; (7) 

Slain is my comfort by thy fiery hand ; 
As some tall hill, when winds do shake the ground. 
It cutteth all abroad by bursting hidden wound. ^^ m 

Honor, what is it ? 'Tis a shadow^s shade — 

A thing of witchcraft, and an idle dream — 
One of tlie pretexts which the church has made 

Men without spirit and women for to fleme. (6) 
Knights, who oft hear the loud din of the heme, (9) 

Should be forewarned to such enfeebling ways — 
Make every art, alike their souls, be breme, (10) 

And for their chivalry alone have praise. 
O thou, whatever thy name, or Zabalus, (11) or Ineed, (11) 
Come steel my sable mind for strange and doleful deed«" 

(1) Blinded ; (2) fastened ; (3) robe ; (4) awakened ; (5) perpetrate ; (6) great 
ternbleness ; (7) cause ; (8) terrify ; (9) trumpet ; (10) furious ; (II) devil. 

The real act takes us to the camp of the Danes, where, 
the army is being placed in readiness for the impending 
battle. The two Danish leaders, Magnus and Hurra, are 
sketched with bold strokes, for which sketch a violent per- 
sonal quarrel offers the opportunity. The common danger, 
I however, when messengers bring news of -^Ella's approach 

forces these princes to drop the quarrel and prepare for battle. 

The scene then changes, and we are transported to the 



1861.] CBATTERTON AND HIS WORKS. 831 

Saxon camp. ^Ua enthusiastically inspires his troops for 
battle. The fight commences. 

Danes hurry over the stage in great fright. The mis- 
fortune of the Danes and the valor of ^Ila are told in a most 
powerful manner. Even Hurra is compelled to leave the 
field, and now urges his followers to withdraw to their hiding- 
places on the coast, taking revenge for their defeat in pillag- 
ing and destroying the whole country through which they will 
have to pass. The Danes pass away, and Almonde enters, 
enthusiastic in praise of JSlla's great bravery in the field, 
and telling how the great prince has been wounded on the 
field. But this admiration of ^Ella's valor does not oblit- 
erate his love for Bertha, and he thinks her possession would 
justify even the most odious treason to his friend. He calls 
his servant and orders his horse to be speedily saddled. 

The third act takes us back to Ella's palace, where 
Bertha weeps over her departed husband. In order to cheer 
her spirits her chambermaid calls some ministrels, who 
thereupon begin to sing a ballad so exquisitely beautiful, so 
touching in form and content, that it may surely be counted 
amongst the highest achievements which poets have at- 
tained on this field. 

** * Water-witches, crowned with reytes, 
Bear rae to yonr deadly tide ; 
I die I I come! ray true love wait?.' 
t ThoB the maiden spoke and died." 

The night breaks in and brings the treacherous Almonde. 
He halts in front of Bertha's house. 

^'The world is dark with night ; the winds are still ; 
Faintly the moon her palid light makes gleam ; 
The risen ghosts the charchyard fill, 
White elfin fairies j on rn eying in the dream ; 
The forest shineth with the silver leme. 
Now may my love be seated in its treat, 
Upon the brink of some swift running stream. 
I At the sweet banquet I will sweetly eate.^' 

He sends for Bertha and tells her how .Xlla has been 
wounded in the fight. Terrified, she cries out : 

** O my agroted breast I " 



AUCONDB ' 

Bbbtha — 



** Without your sight he dies I " 

*^ Will Bertha's presence ease her Ella's pain ? 
I fly ; new wings do from my shoulders spring.'* 



882 CBATTSBTON AND HIS woBKs. [March, 

Almonde offers her his quick-footed steed and hurries 
away with her. 

In a dense forest we are introduced to Hurra and his flying 
Danes, breathing revenge against the.Saxons and their prince. 
Almonde and fiertha approach from the distance ; he con- 
fesses his violent, insane love^ tells her that he has carried 
her off, and implores her love in return. She hurls him back 
with contempt. Ue uses threats, and on Bertha's cries for 
assistance Hurra's men fall upon them and take them pris- 
oners. In the scuffle Almonde, after a desperate resistance, 
is killed by Hurra. Bertha discovers herself to be Ella's 
wife and implores the protection of Hurra, which he gener- 
ously promises. 

The closing act leads us back to iBlla, who, recovering 
from his wound, feels ,a deep yearning for home and his 
Bertha. On the way he meets the maid of Bertha, all terri- 
fied and unsettled, who tells him that her mistress has gone 
away. Jealousy takes possession of iBlla's heart ; he vio- 
lently accuses his wife and mourns over his own unhappy 
fate: 

^' Call me not iElU, I am him no more." 

The maid tries to establish the innocence of her mistress, 
but iBlla continues to doubt : 

'^ Bat jet it mast, it mast be so ; I see, 
She with some lustj paramour has gone. 
It must be so — oh I liow it racketh me 1 
My race of love, my race of life, is run ; 
Now rage and farious storm and tempest come ; 
No living upon earth can now onsweet my doom." 

In despair he stabs himself. The bells sound a funeral 
chant, when suddenly enters Hurra with Bertha. Her inno- 
cence is established while ^Ila is yet conscious, and upon 
the corpse of her husband Bertha swoons down, '' making 
his grave her bridal bed." A servant of j^lla concludes the 
tragedy with a short epilogue in praise of iElla, and saying 
of him ; 

'^In heaven they sing of Qod, on earth we*ll sing of thee.'^ 

Thus ends grandly and beautifully this magnificent 
tragedy — a masterwork, not only as a poetical creation, but 
also as a work for the stage. It is a work which Shakespeare 
might have written ; and how could greater praise be 
awarded to it ? 

The simple and yet so intensely dramatic action em- 



1867.] CHATTEBTON AND HIS ITOIKS. 333 

braces a period of scarcely three days. It moves with 
energy, and the vigorous diction of the play the few sen- 
tences we have quoted sufficiently illustrate. The death of 
Almonde by the hand of the Danish prince, the generous 
behavior which Hurra evinces towards Bertha, as well as the 
death of ^lla, which he receives from his own hands and not 
from the hands of his enemies — all this is conceived with 
great judgment and poetical feeling. 

Such a tragedy certainly deserves a better fate than has 
been its lot heretofore. If a stiJOT and mediocre poem like 
Enoch Arden deserves to be printed in hundred thousands 
of copies, and to be illustrated and bound in the most 
splendid manner, how much more would such popular and 
elegant editions be appropriate to this grand production of 
the boy Chatterton ? 

Cbatterton has also published an " Ode to ^lla, Lorde 
of the Castel of Brystowe, Ynne Daies of Yore," which he 
also asserts to have been written by Rowley, and sent to 
** John Ladgate, a priest in London," with a copy of the 
tragedy. We have also the reply of this mythical priest, 
who sings the glory of Rowley in most hyperbolical style, 
and after quoting Virgil, Homer, &c., as models, he con- 
cludes with the following verse : 

*^ Now, Rowley, ia these glorious days, 
Sends oat his shining lights, 
And Targotaa and Chancer lives 
In every line he writes." 

Very naive on the part of Chatterton, undoubtedly. 

Besides ^Ua, we have also a short fragment of another 
tragedy in the Rowley Poems, which bears the name 
*< Goodwyn." This is short, but its concluding chorus, an 
ode to liberty, must be classified amongst Chatterton's finest 
productions. 

Next to iElla his several "Eclogues" are undoubtedly 
Chatterton 's best productions. They can safely be com- 

£ared.to the finest idylls of classics and modern times, 
either those of Virgil nor of G-oethe rise to higher perfection, 
while Tennyson's must be ranked much lower. The first of 
these Eclogues reminds us of Virgil's first. It describes 
the sad condition of England during the war of the roses. 
The first stanza sketches a vivid and pathetic picture of the 
general distress, and in form of a dialogue two shepherds 
then take up the subject and explain to each other their pri- 
vate misfortunes among the universal suffering: devas* 



S84 GHATTERTOK AND HIS woBKs. [March, 

tated fields, stolen herds, &c. One weeps over his son fallen 
in the war ; the other has lost his father. 

The second eclogue is in praise of Richard's deeds in Pales- 
tine, and does not attain the noble beauty of the first. The 
third is in the form of a conversation between man, wife, 
and noble. The man and his wife complain about their low 
condition, speak of equality of mankind, and accuse fate of 
injustice. The noble replies in a conciliating manner, point- 
ing out both sides of the statement. The whole is written 
in genuine Goethe style and has great charms. 

We would lack space to point out the numerous beauties 
of the Rowley poems. The preceding quotations are surely 
sufficient to prove the grand genius of the boy*poet and his 
true art spirit, wherin he is so unboyish. There is nothing 
subjective in him ; all his descriptions and unfoidings are 
utterly objective. This highest perfection of genius, this 
true art culture, is chiefly what makes Chatterton so marvel- 
lous a phenomenon. He writes not as a youthful genius, 
but as a genius of lifelong experience who has educated 
himself into a self-possessed artist. His poems have all the 
deep-felt pathos of genius, and at the same time in their form 
all the calm majesty of ripened art. In this he is the true 
union of classic and the mediasval art spirit; throwing into 
the description of the passionate life of the middle ages all the 
genial and quiet beauty of the classics, and thereby realizing 
to a far higher degree than any other poet, as he also does in 
age and life, that famous child of Faustand Helena, Euphonon, 
which it has puzzled so many commentators to identify his- 
torically. 

Before taking leave of the Rowley poems, which amount 
in all to about forty works, we must call attention to the 
" Bristow Tragedy," an ancient ballad of great merit, and to 
the ** Battle of Hastings," an epic poem of great force and 
beauty, in the production of which Chatterton probably felt 
himself a second Homer. 

We now turn our attention to the acknowledged produc- 
tions of Chatterton, which number about seventy, and would 
alone entitle him to a permanent place in English litera- 
ture. We would chiefly instance a comic burlesque '* The Re- 
venge," which, in its truly exquisite humor and fanciful ex* 
ecution, may rank with ^' The Clouds" of Aristophanes. Of 
all modern poets Goethe is the only one who knows how to 
represent the coarse and extravagant comic of the ancients ; 
and in this gift again Chatterton resembles him. He wrote 



186t.] CHATTEBT09 AND HIS WORKS. 335 

this burlesque, with its accompanying songSi for a rather a 
low sort of concert garden, and received five guineas for it. 
After his death the manuscript alone sold for one hundred 
pounds- How exquisitely the human race knows how to 
contribute its gratitude ! 

The dramatis personae of this burlesque are Jupiter, Bac- 
chus, Cupid, and Juno. The scene lies in the Olympus and 
more particularly in Maja's bedroom. Jupiter opens the 
play, swearing like a trooper that he is cursed with such a scold* 
ing, jealous, and malignant wife as Juno, arid vows that he 
will hasten to Maja in order to forget his matrimonial sorrows 
in her arms. But alas ! Juno is seen approaching in the dis- 
tance, and poor Jupiter tries to hide in a corner. Juno en- 
ters and sings a sneering satire on humbled husbands. Ju- 
piter, though sorely trembling and pale as death, concludes to 
try for once to show his authority. He accordingly creeps 
out of the corner and begins to swear terribly at Juno. 
She evinces fear, and to pacify him takes to humbling 
herself, kissing and coaxing him with great warmth. But 
these love demonstrations Jupiter has not bargained for. 
He hurries away from his fond wife to find out Maja. Juno 
also resolves to go and meet her lover. But suddenly Cupid 
enters and tells her of Jupiter's intrigue with Maja. She is 
enraged, but accepts Cupid's advice to assume the form of 
Maja and meet Jupiter in Maja's bedroom. Juno hastens to 
carry out the plan. Then Bacchus suddenly enters, pretty 
well drunk, and, seeing Cupid, he commences to sneer at love 
in true bacchanalian style. Cupid replies angrily, and Bacchus 
throws a wine-bowl at his head. Cupid, in revenge, shoots an 
arrow into Bacchus, who now, in sudden agony of love, swears, 
he must possess Maja, whatever may be the consequences. 

Then the scene changes into Maja's bedroom, where 
Juno, having assumed Maja's form, awaits her loving Jupi- 
ter. In the darkness Bacchus enters, whom Juno mistakes 
for Jupiter. Whilst they fondle each other Jupiter enters, 
and a most deliciously comic scene is occasioned which 
threatens to end in a row, when Cupid drops in and unfolds 
the true state of affairs. Chatterton is said to have written 
several similar burlesques, but unfortunately none have been 
preserved. 

The greater part of his acknowlqdged poems consists of 
satires, which are partly of a poetical character and partly 
directed against religion and revelation. These satires 
must be classed amongst the best of English literature, and 



3S6 CHATTKBTON AND HIS WOBKB, [March, 

have always excited universal admiration. It is tnily 
remarkable how this talent for satirical writings had been 
developed in the boy at so early an age. *' Kew Gardens/' 
and " Resignation, " belong to the best of his satires. 
Another one, " The^ Prophecy," is written with all the 
bitterness and energy of a Swifl, and is perhaps the finest 
product of his excited invention. It breathes a glowing* 
and honest spirit of freedom, and is another evidence 
that Chatterton, in spite of his political immorality, was a 
sincere friend of democratic freedom and hated the great 
as heartily as he despised them. 

We have only a few words left to say on his other 
acknowledged poems. The elegy on the death of his friend 
Philipps is of great beauty. So are the other elegies. His 
African eclogues are very beautiful, but they cannot be 
compared to the Rowley eclogues. The flavor of naiveness 
which gives their peculiar charm to the Rowley poems 
seems to have deserted Chatterton in London, where all the 
circumstances of his life seem to have disposed him more 
for satire and comicalities. Time might have led him back 
to the original purity of his genius. His clear-sighted 
Shakespearean mind would doubtless have succeeded in 
restoring the lost harmony of his early life ; and in thus 
reaching the highest pinnacle of artistic development, satire — 
nay, even humor — ^he would have abandoned again as 
unworthy of a true poet; for the truly beautifiil and 
sublime, which constituted his real nature, can never be 
united with the negative character of satire. 

For this remains an eternal truth : only in the representa^ 
tion of the sublime does art attain its highest object and 
development. *' All the perishable is but an image ;*' but in 
art " the insufficient is to become event." ♦ The moment- 
ary, accidental, negative, never gives satisfaction. It may 
cause us to smile, may amuse us, may even be a means to 
attain the highest end ; but in itself it has no value. 

Beauty, it is true, is only of the form ; but the highest 

o Gdthe'8 Faust, second part. The last words : 

''AUesVeigOngUche ' 

1st nnr ein GKeichnlss ; 
Das UnzalftngUche 

Hier wiid's Ereigniss, 
Das UnbesdireibUciie 

Hler ist's gethan, 
DasewigWeibUche 

Zieht uns hinan." 



IM*1.] POI80N8 AND P0IS0NEB8. 387 

order of beauty can only be manirested in representing the 
highest content, i. e. the sublime. The more intensely the 
heart of a poet adores beauty, the more certainly will he 
throw aside accidental, negative, and insignificant contents 
to grasp the heavenly and sublime, which, because they task 
far more his genius and art skill . enable him to represent in 
far higher perfection the beauty he adores. 



Art. V — 1. Elements of Medical JiirUprudence. By Thbooerio 
KoMETff Beck, M.D., LL.D. 1860. 

2. Traili 8ur le Vtsnin de la Vipire, sur les poisons Americains, 

sur h laarier cerise et sur que^ques autres poisons. Par L' Abb^ 
FoNTANA. Florence. 2 vols. 4to. 

3. FhilosophiccU Transactions from 1810 to 1812. Articles by 

Sir Benjami^t Collins Brodie. 

4. Traits des poisons tires de rlgnes minirdl, viffitdl et animal^ ou 

toxieologie g&nirale. Paris . 

Therb are few results for which we are more indebted 
to modern science than the increased facilities it offers for the 
detection of crime in cases in which, not many years ago, crim- 
inals escaped with impunity, and people were affrighted lest a 
way should be opened to the wholesale commission of secret 
assassinations while the law was powerless to intervene* 
The many dark ways of dealing death which were known to 
those versed in the secrets of alchemy made men tremble 
lest a word or an act would provoke the vengeance of those 
who knew how to strike without fear of punishment, and 
induced the general dread that every one had his hand raised 
against his neighbor. The stealthy poisoner laughed to 
scorn the laws which could not see death lurking in a 
crumb of bread or a pair of gloves, and in despite of whose 
most watchful efforts the monarch was not safe upon his 
throne nor the peasant in his hut. The best evidence ot this 
general distrust is to be found in the practice handed down 
from time immemorial of having all eatables first tasted by 
those who had prepared them, lest some poisonous ingredient 
should be present. A system uf police as active and prying 
as that engaged in bringing to light plots and conspiracies 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. 2XVIII. 9 



338 poiaoKB AND P0180NBBS. [March, 

against governments was kept in operation by every one who 
could afford it, and men were liable to arrest on the mere 
shadow of suspicion. This constant dread, and those untiring 
precautions, increased the very evil they weremeant to avert, 
and at no time did the crime of poisoning flourish so widely 
as when governments labored most to suppress it. The mys- 
tery which attached to some of the most celebrated cases in 
the past gave birth to the grossest exaggerations, and the his- 
torical records of poisoning are defiled by much fabulous mat- 
ter respecting the potency and modus operandi of secret drugs. 
Probably the most interesting fiction — ^if fiction, indeed, it be — 
is that which ascribed to many poisonous agents the property 
of gradually sappitig the foundations of life and causing death 
with unernng certainty in a given period of time. Nearly 
every history contains interesting narratives of such cases ; 
and oftentimes the narrator delights to paint in tragic colors 
the baneful operation of some deadly potion on the human 
system. To this pioperty Tacitus alludes in his Annals when 
relating the iniquities of Nero. To avoid suspicion, he says, 
a slow and wasting poison was employed, so that the system 
seemed to sink under disease.* 

Locusta, a well known sorceress, was Nero's tool in this 
nefarious business; and so well known had become her 
name that it was almost as universally abhorred as that of 
her master. The most celebrated case in which she was en- 

faged was the poisoning of Britannicus, the son of Agrippina. 
t is, of course, doubtful what drug she used on this occasion ; 
but it is probable that it was aconite, as this article was well 
known in ancient times,and its poisonous properties especially 
understood in Rome. Chemical extraction did not then exist, 
and so aconitinej the active principle of aconite, could not 
have been used.f But aconite produces symptoms so very 
decided, even when taken in small doses, that suspicion would 
be at once aroused, and so the project of slow poisoning be 
defeated. Yet it is not without temerity that some 

* *'£xqui8itum aUqaid plaoebat quod turbaret mentem et xnortcm differret' 
•-ADnAl.,xu, 66. 

This U by n > me ins certaia. Seyeral of the most cclebalcd lo^icolcgiMs 
and chemistd, including Fontana. Gay Luasac, Lavoaier, Riui Brcidie, are of 
opinion that aoonitine must have formed at Idast one of the ingredients in the 

Soison administered by Mithridates, the K.ng of Pontus, to i is w res and 
nughters, and which proved so rapidly fatal to them, but had no effect when 
administered to himself, because, as we are told, he had fortified his system by 
the constant . se of antidotes. Poison having no effect on him, he had to fall 
upon his sword . ( Vtdt livy . lib. , 52. ) 



1867.J P0IS0K8 AND POISONERS. 389 

authors have entirely rejected the idea of slow poisoning, 
since the past, through its traditional records, exhibits many 
otherwise unaccountable facts which impartial criticism does 
not deny, but of which it confesses we have lost the princi- 
ple of explanation. Some very grave authors — among them 
Plutarch, Quintilian,and Theophrastus — ^support this opinion 
by many examples ; and these men were ever careful to sift 
popular traditions and cast away the chaff. Theophrastus, 
m speaking of aconite, says that the sorceress prepared a 
poison from this plant the virulence of which could be so 
regulated that it would kill in a month or a year; and Plu- 
tarch expressly tells us that Aratus, of Sycion, died from 
the effects of a slow poison which caused a disease of the 
lungs and impaired his intellect. To this may be added the 
authority of Tacitus and the almost universal belief which 
formerly prevailed that skilled poisoners could regulate the 
effect of their doses with mathematical precision. 

If this art of slow poisoning ever did exist, we have cer- 
tainly lost it, for not even the most delicate chemical pro- 
cesses can produce a poison the effect of which may be thus 
determined. In the present century the mysterious death 
of Prince Charles of Augustenburg, Crown Prince of Swe- 
den, revived the question in an interesting manner on the 
continent of Europe, and led M. Lodin, Professor of Medicine 
at Lynkoping, to the belief that the Prince had been killed 
by slow poison. 

Dr. Rossi, physician to the Prince, acted in a very suspi- 
cious manner, having made but a superficial post mortem 
examination. The body was therefore exhumed, and the 
disorganized condition of the liver and spleen could be 
accounted for by M. Lodin on no other hypothesis than the 
administration of a slow poison. This explanation, however, 
was rejected by the whole medical profession, and M. Lodin 
found himself compelled to isurrender his opinion. This 
settled the question among scientific men, and to-day none 
are found who admit the stories of slow poisoning with which 
early histories are replete. 

The principal vegetable poisons we know the 
ancients to have been acquainted with are aconite, 
hemlock, and poppy; and the various composite poisons 
contained all or some of these. Hemlock was exten- 
sively used among the G-reeks, and after numberless private 
crimes had been committed by its agency, the government 
adopted it as a means for destroying malefactors; and we 



840 POISONS AND P0ISONSB8. [March, 

know it caused the death of one of the best and the greatest 
men of antiqaity. If nothing else, the fact that Socrates was 
poisoned by hemlock would render the study of this drug 
highly interesting, and we find that Wepfer has written a 
monogram on the subject. Owing to the varieties of the 
plant we cannot determine whether it was the canium macu- 
latunif or common hemlock, or the more virulent acuta aqmtica 
the Athenians employed. Wepfer suggests the latter, as its 
greater rapidity of action better accords with the facts related 
of Socrates and others. Moreover, the scarcity of water-hem- 
lock explains the economy of the Athenian government, 
which allowed only a limited amount each year to the public 
executioner, who, on this supply being exhausted, had to 
furnish it at his own expense. 

Plato, in his dialogue on the Immortality of the Soul, 
remarks that the executioner advised Socrates not to talk lest 
the hemlock would operate too slowly; not being influenced 
by any motives of humanity but that less of the drug might 
be used. This is confirmed by what Plutarch relates of 
Phocion. The executioner had not hemlock enough to 
ensure a speedy death, and Phocion was compelled to pay 
for it himself, remarking, at the same time, that in Athens a 
man had to pay for every thing, even to his own death. It is 
not very clear, then, which variety of hemlock the Athenians 
used, nor to what previous preparation they subjected the 
plant before administering it. It is probable, however, that 
some other powerful ingredient was combined with the hem- 
lock, as death gQuerally supervened before the full efiects of 
hemlock poisoning fully developed themselves. Nor could 
they depend solely on a drug the operation of which is so 
very uncertain that whilst a tew grains will powerfully aifect 
some persons, others can bear eight or ten times the quantity 
with impunity. At the best, it was a very barbarous mode 
of punishmeait; and when we reflect on the bitter sufferings 
Socrates had before his eyes after thei fatal draught should be 
^drained, we must admire still more the calm heroism of his 
llast moments. 

We find the train of symptoms from poisoning by water- 
hemlock thus enumerated by Orfila.* At first there is daz- 
;sling which is followed by obscurity of vision, vertigo, head- 
ache, often acute and excruciating, a vacillating walk, heart- 
burning, dryness of the throat, ardent thirst, vomiting of 

*Orflla'0Tozioalogy,Tol. U, p. 148. 



1867.] P0IJ0N8 AND POI80KBR8. 841 

greenish matter, freqaent and uninterrupted respiration, and 
tetanic contraction of the jaws. The other symptoms differ ; 
sometimes death comes on at once, oris preceded by delirium 
or attacks resembling epilepsy, and sometimes the head 
swells to an enormous size. The abdomen and face are 
generally swollen after death and the mouth is filled with 
green froth. This plant is eminently fatal to animals, and 
Linnaeus, in his Tour to Lapland, relates that at Tornea hun- 
dreds of cattle were annually destroyed by it, and their 
flesh became so tainted with the virus that the mere contact 
of it produced loathsome and gangrenous sores. 

Hemlock was frequently used for medicioal purposes, but 
its action was found to be so unreliable, and especially its. 
narcotic properties so uncertain, that but little value is set 
upon it at present. Aconite and poppies were the favorita 
poisons of the Romans, and there is no doubt that Locust;^ 
mixed them in the deadly draught she administered to Britan?* 
nicus. Theophrastus says that aconite formed the basia of 
all slow poisons, and that one Thrasyas had acquired a wide- 
spread reputation for the skill with which he prepared it 
80 as to suspend its effect for any length of time. The 
ancients were acquainted with none of the mineral poisons, 
as far as can be ascertained* ; and hence we must suppose 
that they were restricted chiefly to the articles mentioned. 
There is one animal poison, however, quite celebrated in the 
annals of ancient poisoning, since by means of it Domitian 

* This is another remark which a more extended r^arch would have 
preyed to be erroneous. None could have any familiar acquaintance with the 
principal metals without discovering that deadly poisons are combined with 
them. Tliis acquaintance was possessed not only by the Greeks and Romans, 
but also by the still more ancient Hebrews. Homer frequently speaks of cop- 
per ; the Greeks of his time wrote on lead and brass. (See Escbenburg's Clas- 
rical Literature, Part iv, p. 831 ) Could they have known these metals without 
haying any knowledge of arscLlc and yerdigris ? And what art we to 8\y of 
Theophrastus' treatise on Mineralogy ? Bid this learned Greek treat of the 
minerals while ignorant that there were deadly poisons amongst them ? Again, 
we read that Melanpus, of Argos, one of the most ancient physicians whose 
names have reached us, cured Iphiclus, one of the Argonauts, by administering 
to him the tetquiaade cf iron. (Apollodor., 1, 9, § 12.) In several parts of 
Genesis the metals are familiarly spoken of. "Surely," says Job, ** there is 
a van for silver, and a place for gold where iheyfine it. Iron is taken out of the 
earth, and ^niitis moUtn out of the stone." (Chap, xxviii, 1, 2.) It will be 
admitted that this testimony is sufficiently satisfactory as to the fact that the 
ancients were nd ignorant of mineral poisons ; were it otherwise it would be 
easy to multiply proofs. Egyptologists have no doubt that the ancient Egypt* 
ians used anmic in their embalming processes ; but whether they did or not, 
certain it is that both the Greeks and Romans were well aware that there were 
minerals, very small particles of which would destroy human life as effectually 
as the sword. 



343 POISONS AKD POISONERS* [MaTch, 

destroyed his brother Titus. This was obtained from the sea- 
hare {lepus marintts)^ atid, from what has been related con- 
cerning its operation, it must have produced very painful and 
disgusting effects. The surface of the body was covered 
with pustules and sores, and the blood reduced almost to the 
consistency of water. None of the properties, however, which 
were claimed for the vegetable poison belonged to it, and 
it was never employed where secrecy was desired. Every 
one is acquainted with the story of Cleopatra and the asp ; 
but for us it does not possess much interest, since historians 
have failed to describe the*peculiar symptoms which accom- 
panied the action of the poison, and we are not able to deter- 
mine what variety of the insect was employed. It is proba- 
ble, however, that the immediate cause of death was suffo- 
cation, since Dr. Harris, in his lecture on Poisoned Wounds,* 
says, that in all instances where death results from the 
stings of bees or wasps, it arises from active iniSammation,. 
either in or about the larynx so as to interrupt respiration.f 
Serpents, adders, scorpions, and poisonous fishes are the sub- 
ject of many interesting reflections in Pliny's Natural His- 
tory ; but modern researches have given us much ampler in- 
formation on the subject of animal poisons, and chemistry 
has even determined their precise nature in many cases. ** The 
terrible science of poisons," says Sismondi, *' is the first 
branch of chemistry which is successfully cultivated b^ bar- 
barous nations ;" and hence we find that, with the revival of 
letters in the sixteenth century, alchemy was cultivated as 
much with the object of discovering venomous drugs as for the 
philosopher's sibne. Secret laboratories were constructed 
where men held converse day and night with the mine- 
ral and vegetable products of nature, and sought to wrest 
from her bosom those occult treasures which would give 
them power over life and death. Arsenic, nitric acid, and 
the bichloride of mercury (corrosive sublimate), quickly 

* Medical Examiner, toI. 1, p. 260. 

t The AbbI Foatana has devoted much more attentioQ to the sabject thaa 
Dr. Harri;<, and aooordingly his infereaces are very different from those of that 
gentleman. After numerous experiments, Fontana fuund that the poison of 
the viper, or asp, exercises no if^fluenee whaUver on an unbroken surface, nor on 
muscle, tendon, nerve, or any soiid parts of the living^ body ; but that it de- 
stroys life exclusively by being introduced into the circulation of the bio d. 
'* This fluid," he says, ** conveys the venom 1 1 the animal and distributes it 
through its whole body. The action of the venom and it effects on the blood 
are almost instantaneous." — Traiii ntr U Fentn, &c., vol. i , p. 198. 

*' Fontana's views are fuUy oorroboimted by those of Sir Benjamin Bmdie." 
— FKiePhUosoph Trans, for 1812. 



1867.} POISONS AMD FOiaONKlM. 848 

issued from the hissing cruciblei and before long their deadly 
influence was felt both by experimenters and the victims of 
crime. The first cases " we read of in modern times are 
those which have rendered the Aqua della Toffana so cele- 
brated in the annals of medical jurisprudence. Poets, nov- 
elists, and historians have delighted to linger on this page of 
criminal lore and to paint in vivid colors the tragic scenes 
which in Italy, France, and Germany were enacted by the 
miscreants who administered this deadly compound for the 
sole purpose of taking away life. 

In the year 1659, during the pontificate of Alexander 
VII, Rome was filled with consternation at the many sudden 
deaths which occurred every day, the arch-destroyer singling 
out, as if by predilection, the strong, the noble, and the 
young. Fear seemed at first to paralyze men, and they sub- 
mitted to the scourge as if an epidemic had visited them. 
By degrees certain circumstances forced themselves on the 
public attention which showed that some human agency was 
concerned in the work. In the first place, it was noticed 
that no women died, nor men, but those who were young, 
distinguished by wealth or family, and who had been but a 
short time married. The suspicions of the government were 
aroused and the utmost exertions used to discover the perpe- 
trators of those horrible crimes. Many arrests were made 
among the women of Rome whose relations to society were 
considered questionable, and at last a clue was obtained to 
the criminals. Certain young wives were in the habit of 
visiting each other's houses, and the officers of the govern- 
ment, having assisted, incognito^ at some of these meetings, 
found out that a complete system of poisoning had been es- 
tablished for the purpose of ridding of their husbands those 
ladies of Rome who had grown weary of their lords or longed 
for a change. An old woman named Spara was at the bottom 
of the conspiracy and supplied the poison, the secret of mak- 
ing which she had learned from Tofania of Palermo. The infa- 
mous league was broken up, and Spara, with four of the most 
desperate of her comrades, was publicly executed. 

The chemists of Ron^e tested the poisonous preparations, but 
to no purpose, as chemical science was not yet sufficiently ad- 
vanced to aflford the proper reagents for the mineral poisons 
which were then known. Four to five drops were sufficient 
to kill a man, and it was currently stated at that time that 
it possessed all the virtues of slow poison — ^that its efiects 
could be suspended for an indefinite period. Tofania, who 



844 Foi809i8 AXD poiflOKBBB. [iTarch, 

was the original preparer of this drug, escaped detection for 
a long time by a simple yet ingenious expedient. The prac- 
tice of preserving and distributing the relics of persons who, 
during life bad been distinguished for their piety prevailed 
quite extensively among the faithful of the Church ; and To- 
fania had her poison made up in little pbials, labeled Manr 
na of St. Nicholas of Barrij which she distributed among her 
customers as if catering to their pious wants. She was 
finally apprehended and put to the torture ; and, though she 
confessed her crimes before being strangled, the secret 
of her poison perished with her. Garelli, physician to Charles 
yi, King of Sicily, gave it as bis opinion at the time that To- 
fania was executed that the A^ Tofania was a solution of 
crystalized arsenic, with the addition of some comparatively 
sweet ingredients for the purpose of disguising the more potent 
element. The Abb^ Gagliani asserts that the mixture 
contained opium and cantharides, assigning as the 
principal reason of this opinion the slower action of this 

Kison, which would seem to accord better with the preva- 
it idea that its effects might be deferred or suspended. 
The opinion of Garelli is more general at the present time ; 
and to the objection that the Aqua Tofania differed materi- 
ally in its operation from arsenic it may be answered that 
some strong narcotic may have been added and so modified 
the action of the arsenic. 

The security of life received so powerful a shock 
from these discoveries that the closest surveillance 
was exercised by the public authorities in every State 
and kingdom, that men began to dread as much the 
suspicions of the government under which they lived as the 
fatal draught from the poisoner's hands ; and, it must be con- 
fessed, that many innocent persons suffered death on evidence 
which would now be considered clearly insufficient. And 
yet, even this evil had not reached its zenith ; it remained 
for the Chambre ardente to render government protection 
from poison infinitely more odious than many Sparas or To- 
fanias. 

No sooner had the sensation caused by the aqua 
tofania died away than France became the theatre of more 
wonderful and more iniquitous transactions. A poor nnn 
was observed to viait the hospitals and garrets of Paris, be- 
friending the sick and indigent and bringing to them all the 
delicacies which her limited resources were supposed to al- 
low. Her visits to the same individuals, however, were not 



1867.] POI)«ONB AND POISOHBRS. 845 

often repeated, as it was noticed that those who had been 
helped by her ministration had died with short shrift. 
When the danger of detection appeared the nun van- 
ished as suddenly as she had made her entree into the world 
of charity, and though search was made for her in every con- 
vent in Paris, she could be nowhere found. Shortly after 
this a man named Sainte Croix, who had once known the 
interior of the Bastile, was found dead in a private labor- 
atory, where he was surrounded with the undoubted evi- 
dences of a poisoner's avocation. A little casket was found 
directed to the Marquise of Brinvillier; but the suspicious 
surroundings justified the authorities in opening the casket, 
and the first link in a long chain of almost incredible deeds 
of guilt was discovered. The casket contained various 
poisons, all labeled, and with the effects oi each described 
as they had been tested by experiments on animals. The 
Marquise was arrested, and, being subjected to torture, con- 
fessed the following startling crimes. It seems that on the 
return of her husband from the campaign of the Netherlands 
he brought with him this Sainte Croix, who, profiting by his 
freedom of access to the house of the Brinvilliers, carried on 
an intrigue with the marquise, and on being found out was 
sent to the Bastile by her father. During his sojourn 
here he learned the art of secret poisoning from an 
Italian, and on his release he visited the marquise, now a 
widow, and imparted to her his fatal secret. Before at- 
tempting her art on any person of distinction she visited the 
prisons and hospitals of Paris, as we have stated, to assure 
herself that she might rely on the efficacy of the drug. This 
done, she began by poisoning her father, her brothers, and her 
sisters for the purpose of acquiring the family estates, and 
had many other infamous crimes projected when Saint 
Croix's sudden death brought the whole scheme to light. 
In reading the details of this history one is especially struck 
by the cold-blooded cruelty which incited this woman to 
try the efficacy of her poison on the paupers and patients 
of Paris. 

In this respect the case resembles that of Madame 
Gottfried, related in a recent number of this Review,* 
though the Brinvillier case exhibits more blood-thirstiness, 
while Madame Gottfried was a more accomplished hypocrite. 
The probability is, too, that as the false chivalry of to-day 

o No. XXn, September, 1866 ; art. " Amerioan Femide Criminals." 



346 PoiaoNB AND F0I80NEB& ' [Mardi, 

would have discovered a moral insanity provoking Gottfried 
to crime, so Brinvillier would have been acquitted on the 
ground of some abnormalityin her mental organization. Ow- 
ing to the little progress which had been hitherto made in 
the science of chemistry, opinion is divided concerning the 
poison used by Brinvillier as it is with reference to the na- 
ture of the aqua tofania. Corrosive sublimate was found 
in large quantity in the casket Sainte Croix had directed to 
the marquise, and hence the surmise is pretty well founded 
that this entered largely, as an ingredient, into the poisonous 
compound. 

The discovery of this crime induced the government to 
take strong measures to suppress future attempts, and an 
inquisition was established under the title of the ChamJbre 
ardente^ before which all cases of suspected poisoning were 
tried, and the accused parties were in the majority of cases 
condemned to the stake. The famous poudre de surcessiont or 
diamond dust, was employed at this time by poisoners, as its 
purely mechanical action was so well calculated to defy detec- 
tion. This was not, however, the first time it was employed ; 
a well-known physician of the sixteenth century (Cellin) 
relates that the diamond dust was tried on him, though inef- 
fectually, as the hydrochloric acid of the stomach was strong 
enough to dissolve the diamond. But the efforts of the Chambre- 
ardentcwere soon turned from their legitimate purpose, and it 
became an instrument of political oppression in the hands 
of those who controlled it. It was aoolished in J 680. 

This rapid sketch of a few of the most celebrated cases of 
poisoning we find in history is replete with useful lessons. 
In the first place it may be inferred from the difficulty which 
attended the detection of the most flagrant cases, that count- 
less crimes were perpetrated by crafty men who knew how 
to evade the slumbering vigilance of the law, and that their 
victims went to the grave without a suspicion of foul play 
having been committed. Then the uncertainty of the means 
used to bring to light doubtless cases was such, that in a 
great number of instances the innocent suffered with the 
guilty, or were punished, while the guilty escaped. To-day^ 
we find all this changed, and the force of medical evi- 
dence has become so strong that it is considered more 
satisfactory than the concurrent evidence of many wit- 
nesses ; and the proof of this is found in the general aban- 
donment of poison as a means of committing crime, and 
the substitution of the pistol or the knite. Those not familiar 



186T.J POISONB AND POiaONBBfl. 84*7 

with the various processes involved in the analysis of organic 
substances supposed to be certatu poison would be aston- 
ished at the slow and laborious steps that are to be taken. 
In the first place, the action of the poisonous matter has to 
be tested, so that its peculiar effects and the train of symp- 
toms accompanying its operation may be noted. Animals 
of the lower order, and in many cases criminals, have been 
made the subjects of these experiments ; and if we could 
divest the proceedings of a certain cruelty which is insepa- 
rable from them, we could not but confess that they are highly 
interesting and instructive. As a result of these experiments 
it has been remarked, among other things, that the same 
poison produces the most different effects on different ani- 
mals ; that hogs feed on henbane, pheasants on stramonium, 
and goats on water-hemlock, while the same substances are 
fatal to man. It is said that an elephant in Switzerland took 
three ounces of prussic acid mixed with ten ounces of brandy 
and exhibited no evil effects.* . The same elephant afterwards 
took three ounces of arsenic in a mixture of honey and sugar 
and escaped with equal impunity.f The hedgehog eats 
the Spanish fly, which is highly poisonous to all other 
animals. It has been noticed likewise that the dog ap- 
proaches nearest to man in his susceptibility to noxious 
agents, while animals of duller nerves differ most from him. 
More astonishmg still is the immunity which some indi- 
viduals enjoy from the poisonous action of substances which 
are speedily fatal to the majority of men. 

Wolfsbane (aconitum napellus) is a deadly poison, ten 
grains of which produce death with most distressing symp- 
toms. The eyes and teeth become fixed a few moments 
after it is taken into the stomach, the pulse becomes im- 
perceptible, and the breathing so short as to become almost 
undistinguisbable; the body swells, and the unhappy sufferer 
dies in delirium. Notwithstanding, we have the authority of 
one of the first toxicologists^ for stating that Charles IV of 
Spain was accustomed to take a drachm of this substance 
daily without any good or evil effects. He continued to do 
this to the advanced age of sixty-two, and still was an ath- 
letic man with good appetite. 

'* In the mines of Peru," says Humboldt, ^* from five to 
six thousand persons are employed in the amalgamation of 

* Anglada, p. 40, Bibliothdque UniyexBelle. 
; t FoiUrfi, vol. iv. t Fodfirfi, vol. Ui, p. 468. 



848 P0I80N8 AND PoisoNiBs. [Harcb, 

the minerals, or the preparatory labor. A great number of 
these individuals pass their lives in walking barefooted over 
heaps of brayed metal moistened and mixed vsdth muriate of 
soda, sulphate of iron, and oxide of mercury, with the contact 
of the Atmosphere and the solar rays. It is a remarkable phen- 
omenon to see these men enjoy the most perfect health."* 
Now, the vapors arising from mercury while undergoing 
oxidation are highly injurious and often fatal. Dr. Dicksonf 
says that the crew of a Spauish vessel laden with mercury 
were all salivated and some killed by the fumes of the 
mercury which arose from one or two jars which had been 
broken in the hold. 

One of the most extraordinary instances of the re- 
sistance of the human system to the effects of a very 
deadly poison is found recorded in the works of Dr. 
Pouqueville, and one which has been the subject of much 
controversy between Lord Byron and Mr. Thornton. Dr. 
P. states that an old man residing in Constantinople 
was in the habit of consuming a drachm of corrosive 
sublimate daily. Thornton denied the correctness of this 
statement, and said that the Turkish phrase which Pouque- 
ville took to signify eater of corrosive sublimate, meant no- 
thing but simple eater. Lord Byron, who was well ac- 
quainted with the Turkish dialect, confirms the opinion of 
the Doctor, and emphatically disagrees with Thornton.^ 
The man was still alive in 1800, and collateral evidences 
have proved the truth of wh:it Dr. Pouqueville advanced. 
It is well known that the peasants of those countries where 
arsenic is produbed employ this mineral for cosmetic pur- 
poses by outward application, and swallow it in quantities 
which in ordinary cases would prove speedily fatal. Those 
who reside in the valleys of the Alps use it with the view 
of enabling them to ascend hills, as it it is well known 
that by means of it their breath lasts them a much longer 
time. 

Dr. Strohmayer relates that a peasant who resided near a 
convent in the Tyrol took, for a long time, ten grains of 
arsenic daily with his food ; a fact corroborated by the testi- 
mony of the monks.^ These anomalies are difficult of explar 
nation, and many lawyers have sought to invalidate medical 

* Estai politkmt^ &c. 

•f Dickso&'ii Practic3 of Medicine. 

i Viir Notes on 11th Canto of Childe Harold. 

§ Boston Medical and Surgical Joomal, vol. zii, p. 21 L 



1867.] POisoNB AND PoisoyiBs, 349 

evidence on this ground. Such exceptional cases, however, 
are entirely insufficient to shake a general law ; they 
are just numerous enough to establish the rule that where 
traces of an irritant or narcotic poison are observed in human 
remains death has been the result of such poison. For this 
reason the decision rendered by the Acaaemy of Berlin in 
1752, when it declared the poisonous nature of copper to be 
uncertain, since many had swallowed it with impunity, is 
now generally discarded as calculated to destroy the very 
idea of a poisonous substance. 

It has been observed that the action of poisons 
differs greatly according to the amount taken, or the 
virulence of ihe drug. Thus prussic acid kills almost 
with the rapidity of lightning, while the less active 
agents allow a longer interval. This difference in the action 
of poisons has given much rise to conflicting legislation. In 
England the law supposes that death cannot be traced to any 
poison afber the lapse of one year, while in this country there 
18 no statutory limitation, provided always death may be 
traced to the operation of the poison in question. In France 
the law is the same as in this country, with this difference, 
that where accident or ignorance renders the poison innocu- 
ous the criminal is acquitted.* 

Such are a few of the general results bearing directly 
on the subject of poisoning which have been deduced 
from the investigations made in recent times on this 
question; and before proceeding further it would 
be well to state some interesting collateral truths which 
have been developed in the course of those inquiries. It 
has been remarked that a mania prevails at times for certain 
poisons, and that, without regard to the painful symptoms 
they produce, murderers and suicides evince a decided pref- 
erence for them. This, indeed, seems to occur in virtue of 
some law of human nature which makes man imitative of 
evil as well as of good. Thus we find in the general prison re- 
port of England, made a few years ago, that in a certain pri- 
son near London suicides by hanging were of quite frequent 
occurrence. A little attention to the circumstances dis- 
closed the strange fact that all hanged themselves from the 
same nail, and when this nail was removed the suicides sud- 
denly ceased. In poisoning this imitative action is still more 
strikingly illustrated. In a paper published in the Journal 

o Devergie, vol. ii, p. 426. 



850 FoiBOKS AND PoisoNBRS. [March, 

de Chimie MedUale the following statistica of poisoning are 

exhibited. In 93 cases 

54 were by Arsenic. 1 was by Tartar emetic. 

7 " Verdigris. 1 " Opium. 

6 *' Cantharides. 1 *^ Acetate of lead. 

5 ** Corrosive sublimate. I " White-lead. 

4 " Nux Vomica. 1 " Sulphuric acid. 

3 ** Fly powder. 1 " Sulphate ot zinc. 

2 *^ Nitric acid. . 1 '< Mercurial Ointment. 

I was by Sulphuret of arsenic. 6 unknown. 

It is well known that few substances produce bo dread- 
ful a train of symptoms as arsenic; and yet,notwithstanding this 
and the fact that in France many stringent regulations limit 
its sale, it has been more extensively employed both by sui- 
cides and those who attempted the lives ot others than 
opium or any of the narcotic poisons. 

In the United States, however, it has been noticed that 
suicides give the preference to the various preparations of 
opium, while other criminals employ arsenic and strychnine. 
The recent cases of poisoning which has been perpetrated 
by means of these agents and the wonderful train of circuro- 
stances which have led to the detection of the poisoners ren- 
der the study of those deadly drugs especially interesting. Ar- 
senic is probably more extensively usea for murderous purposes 
than any other poison ; and a few years ago scarcely a day 
passed that the community was not startled by the narrative of 
some dreadful case of arsenic poisoning. The unerring ac- 
curacy of Marsh's and Runsch's tests, which have enabled 
chemists to discover minute traces of arsenic in dead Ji>odies, 
many years after death, has caused a marked diminution in 
the number of deaths from this poison, as men feltj that an 
unseen and infallible witness would bear testimony against 
the poisoner by arsenic. But the delicacy and precision of 
those tests have not only rendered the detection of crime 
more certain but have precluded the possibility of those 
unjust convictions which have disgraced the annals of for- 
mer times. 

We find a very celebrated case of this sort recorded 
by Dr. Beck in his Medical Jurisprudence. Mary Blandy 
was tried in February, 1762, at Oxford, for poisoning 
her father with arsenic. It appears that she fell in 
love with a Captain Cranston ; but her father opposed 
the marriage. Cranston conspired with the daughter to get 
rid of Mr. Blandy for the purpose of securing the property. 



1861.] POISONS AND POISONERS. 851 

Hiss Blancly mingled the arsenic which Cranston had 
brought her in her father's food, but in small quantities, so 
as not to produce immediate death. Mr. Blandy's health 
became rapidly impaired and his teeth underwent decay. 
Others who had shared the food in which the arsenic was 
mixed suffered similarly. At last, on August 6, she 
added a larger quantity than usual, and all the previous 
symptoms returned with increased violence. The ab- 
domen swelled and there was excessive pain, with a pe- 
culiar pricking sensation over every part of his body. 
On being visited by a physician, the patient's tongue was 
found swollen, his throat inflamed and excoriated, his eyes 
tumefied, his pulse low, trembling, and intermitting, and 
his respiration difficult ; there was also an inability to swal- 
low even the smallest quantity. Blood flowed freely from 
his bowels; he became delirious, and, on the 13th of Au- 
gust, expired. On the 15th the body was examined, when 
the back tod blinder parts of the arms, thighs, and legs 
were found livid. The heart was variegated with purpie 
spots ; the lungs resembled bladders half filled with air and 
blotted in some places with pale, but mostly, black ink ; 
the liver and spleen were much discolored ; the kidneys 
were stained with livid spots ; the stomach and bowels were 
inflated and appeared, before anv incision was made into 
them, as if they had been pinched, and extravasated blood 
had stagnated between their membranes. 

The first symptom which denotes the presence of arsenic 
in the system is faintness, which occurs a very few moments 
after the poison has been swallowed. There is violent pain 
in the stomach, vomiting, dryness, heat, and lightness in the 
throat. Hoarseness and difficulty of speech are generally 
combined with these. Diarrhoea is a common sequel, and 
where it does not exist the abdomen is tense and exceedingly 
tender.* These symptoms vary but little, and an interesting 
question has lately arisen as to whether, from these ante mar- 
tern indications alone, it could be decided that arsenic had 
been employed. The question has been decided affirma- 
tively by Drs. Christison and Beck. 

These symptoms are observed in every stage and varietv 
among the unhappy convicts who are condemned to work 
arsenic mines. In Germany the workmen thus engaged 

* The miiriate <^ barytet and emetie tartar prodooe effects on the human 
system precisely simi ar to those of araeDic, whether appUed to a woand, or 
taken in sufficient quantity into the stomach. 



352 P0IB0K8 AND POISONERS. [March, 

rarely live beyond the age of thirty-fivoi and even then life 
is worse to them than death. Their hair and teeth are speed- 
ily decayed, their bones become diseased, and they are in a 
constant state of bad health. In order to prolong this mis- 
erable existence to the utmost, they are compelled to abstain 
scrupulously from ardent spirits, and even from meat, 
and live exclusively on vegetables, fat, and oil. As the 
poison continues to insinuate itself into their'system, all the 
symptoms we have described begin to show themselves, and 
they go to their graves miserable wrecks of humanity. 

In the Copper Smelting Works of Cornwall and Wales, 
owing to the presence of arsenic in the crude metal, the same 
phenomena are observed amon/a; the workmen ; but here the 
cattle suffer similarly. Dr. Paris says : ** The horses and 
cows commonly lose their hoofs, and the latter are frequently 
seen in the neighboring pastures crawling on their knees, 
and not unfrequently suffering from a cancerous affection in 
their rumps; while the milch cows, in addition to these 
miseries, are soon deprived of their milk.* The appearance 
of the internal organs on dissection is such as we would ex- 
pect from the action of such a powerful irritant. The 
stomach and bowels bear especial marks of its virulent oper- 
ation, large patches of erosion appearing here and there; and 
sometimes perforation takes place. 

In August, 1832, a family named Terrier, living in France, 
experienced severe colic and nausea, followed by violent 
vomiting, after having partaken of soup at dinner. The 
mother and son died, while the daughter-in-law survived, 
but remained a chronic invalid. The disease was pronounced 
to be inflammation of the stomach, and no more was heard 
of the afi&ir. The property went by law to a man named 
Urbain, who continued in quiet enjoyment of it for some 
time. Shortly after this, he called on a brother of his, and 
during dinner the subject of corn came up for discussion. 
Urbain expressed a desire to examine a sample of that which 
his brother had lately purchased. He took some in his hand, 
looked at it closely, and threw it back into the tub, remark- 
ing that it was of a superior quality to what he had. Shortly 
after this, the entire family was taken sick, and when their 
illness compelled them to forego the use of bread they be- 
came better; but when they became well enough to resume 
it the same symptoms returned. This awakened a suspicion 

• Dr. Paris' •• PhaTmaoolo;da." 



1867.] POISONS AKD POISONERS, 353 

that all was not right» and a portion of the bread was taken 
for chemical examination. Two chemists failed to detect the 
presence of any deleterious substance, and it was sent to the 
celebrated toxicologist, Orfila. The bread was steeped in 
distilled water, which was afterwards filtered and subjected 
to the action of sulphureted hydrogen. The fluid became 
instantly yellow on the addition of a few drops of muriatic 
acid ; but only after the lapse of several days was a sulphuret 
of arsenic obtainnd in just such a quantity as to account for 
the symptoms which had been caused by the use of the 
bread. Not satisfied, however, with this result, Orfila con- 
tinued his experiments, in order that, if possible, he might 
discover 4)h6 poison in the shape in which it was supposed to 
have been used. For this purpose the sulphuret, which was 
minglod with certain organic compounds, was washed with 
ammonia, which dissolved the sulphuret. The solution was 
now evaporated, and the residuum being subjected to a red 
heat, the metallic arsenic appeared. Marsh's test gave the 
same result, and there was no doubt that poisoning had been 
intended.* It become known that Urbain would have suc- 
ceeded to the property of his brother, and that he had also 
purchased a large quantity of arsenic some time prior to the 
death of the Terrier family. These circumstances led to his 
arrest and conviction.t 

Another interesting case is that of Mine and Mrs. Chap- 
man, in which, though investigations were pursued with a 
degree of care and minuteness truly surprising, the results 
were somewhat conflicting, so that one of the accused par- 
ties escaped.! Orfila and Lesueur have made careful 
experiments on this subject, and obtained interesting 
results. They found that acids become neutralized by the 

* Another ID teresting cinjumstanoe connected with the tests for arsenic is the 
resistance to the process of putrefaction which this sabstance bestows on bodies, 
thus rendering the application of the test possible many years after death. Dr. 
Herepath (Lancet, May 27, 1848) states that he discovered arsenic in the bones 
eight years after interment. An extraordinary case of the same sort occurred 
in France in 18d6. The body ot a female which had been buried three years 
was exhumed, owing to suspicions having arisen that she had been foully dealt 
with. The body was readily identified, owing to the complete state of preser- 
vation in which it was found. The surface of the abdomen was untouched, 
and had merely fallen in on the vertebral column. The entrails had been 
converted into a mess of membranous flakes. These were tested for various 
poisons. When the application of the proper test gave evidence of the presenoe 
of arsenic. Annala dRygiine, vol. xviii, p. 466. 

t Annales d' Hygiene, vol. ix, p. 410. 

X Trials of Lucretia Chapman and A. E. Y. Mino for the marder of WU- 
lUon Chapman.— E. Du Bois : Philadelphia, 1882. 

VOL. XIV. NO. XXVIII. 10 



854 POISONS AND POISONERS. [March, 

ammonia which is set free during putrefaction, and are with 
difficulty discovered if a great length of time has elapsed. On 
the other hand, opium, cantbarides, and arsenic undergo but 
little change even after the space of many years. Prussic 
acid disappears in a few days, while strychnia remains 
unchanged for years,* 

Arsenic is much less powerful than hydrocyanic acid« 
Two-thirds of a grain of this substance have been known 
to produce death, and taken in larger quantities it paralyzes 
every function, causing death by siderationf or blasting of the 
vital power. Dr. Heller gives the case of a man who 
applied a bottle of Scheels's acid to his nose, and he was 
soon seized with great oppression across the chest and 
rigidity of the entire body. This state continued for nearly 
twenty-four hours, and it was with difficulty the sufferer 
was restored after the administration of powerful stimulants.t 
When the quantity of prussic acid taken is not sufficient to 
cause death with the rapidity peculiar to it, the symptoms 
are still such as readily denote its action. There is giddiness 
with loss of muscular power ; the head droops, the tongue 
protrudes, and there is a contraction of the throat as if 
strangulation were taking place. The action of the heart is 
especially interfered with, and hence the veins become con- 
gested ; the eyes protrude, become fixed apd stare wildly ; 
the face is livid and bloated. Whoever has been present at 
a case of poisoning by prussic acid is especially struck by 
the smell of bitter almonds which is extensively diffused 
through the apartment.:}: Even the blood acquires this odor 
and retains it for several days. This is one of the most 
reliable tests for detecting the presence of prussic acid ; and 
when it ceases, all traces of the poison seem to vanish. 

In the London Medical Repository we read of a man who 
took half a table-spoonful at a swalIow,and in a few seconds 
fell to the floor as if he had been shot. His teeth were 
closed, his respiration difficult, noisy, and rattling ; his mouth 
was distorted, his face and neck red and swollen, his pupils 
.fixed and dilated, and in all respects he seemed like one who 

* London Illustrated and Phybical Journal, vol. xi, p. 265. 

I London Medical and Physical Journal, vol. Ivii, p. 68. 

i Brodie informs us that he felt the instantaneous influence of the poison 
-of bitter almonds on his nervous system, on applying a minute particle of it 
to his tongue. The probe on which it was had scarcely touched bis tongue 
when be felt an indescribable sensation with a sudden feeling of weakness in 
bis limbs as if he had lost the command of his muscles, and be thought he 
-wasabout to fall.— Fide PAtf. Trans, for 1812. 



1867.1 POISONS AND POISONERS. 855 

had fallen in a fit of apoplexy. The speedy administration 
of powerful emetics and injections saved his life after some 
hours and he remarked that the most distressing sympton 
he experienced throughout was one of constriction in the 
back part of the mouth and down the throat, as if some per- 
son were strangling him. 

It has bet?n noticed that all animals succumb promptly 
to its operation, from the humble grasshopper to the ele- 
phant, and that all exhibit the same train of symptoms 
— extreme rigidity of muscles, namely, convulsions. M. 
Kobert pourea some on a mattress, and, allowing it to evap- 
orate, placed on the mattrass cats, rabbits, birds, and dogs, 
all of which died within a very few minutes. Another 
experimenter observes that when these animals experience 
the first effects of the poison, they utter "a cry of so pecu- 
liar a kind and so indicative of severe distress as to give the 
idea of consciousness on its part of impending death." 

For a long time prussic acid was used by suicides who 
were acquainted with its rapid action but were not aware 
that it produced the most intense agony. The many pub- 
lished cases of death, however, with vivid descriptions of 
the sufferings endured, caused the use of it to be relin- 
quished. 

Another preparation in which prussic acid is the noxious 
agent, and one which, owing to its agreeable smell, has oflen 
been mistaken for cordial or Hqtieur, is the distilled water of 
cherry-laurel. It is now well known that prussic acid exists 
in an inert state in many plants, as the peach-tree blossom, 
almonds, and especially cherry-laurel. The acid is easily 
extracted in its active state from these plants by distillation. 
While Foder6, who has enriched the science of toxicology by 
so many valuable discoveries, was still a student at Turin, 
two servants in a nobleman's family, enticed by the pleasant 
odor of a certain bottle, purloined it, and, thinking it to be an 
invigorating cordial, hastly swallowed the contents and ex- 
pired instantly.* 

But one of the most interesting cases of poison- 
ing recorded is that of Sir Theodosius Boughton, 
who was poisoned by his brother-in-law, Captain Donellan, 
with cherry-laurel water. The young baronet had not yet 
attained his majority ; and in the event of his dying before 
that time, a large share of his property would revert to hiy 

• Fodfere, vol. iv. p. 27. 



356 POISONS AND pjisoKKRs. [Marcb, 

sister, Mrs. Donellan. A short time before he had reached his 
twenty-first year, Sir T.^was under the care of an apothecary 
for some slight ailment. The apothecary sent him a draught, 
which he was totake on the following morning. Accordingly, 
his mother presented him with the medicine at the appointed 
time, and he swallowed it, remarking after he had done so 
that he perceiyed a peculiarly bitter taste in his mouth. His 
mother likewise was struck by the strong smell of 
bitter almonds that proceeded from the yessel which con- 
tained the potion ; but, deeming this a trifling circumstance, 
she left her son for a while, and on returning to his chamber 
was horrified to see him with his eyes fixed and staring up- 
ward, his teeth clenched and froth issuing from his mouth. 
In a few minutes after this he died, neyer haying spoken a 
word from the moment he swallowed the medicine. Captain 
Donellan gaye directions that the bottle which contained the 
medicine should be thoroughly cleansed, as also a still which 
he had kept in his room. This awakened suspicion, and Sir 
William Wheeler, guardian to the young baronet, gaye orders 
to Donellan to hayc the body examined by com- 
petent medical men. Though he assented to this, yet 
he evaded the inquiry till he could do so no longer without 
greatly strengthening the suspicions against him. When the 
body was exhumed it was swollen and distended, the face 
was black, the lips retracted, showing the gums and thus 
giving the countenance a grinning expression ; the tongue 
protruded, and the body was covered with spots. In the 
opinion of four eminent surgeons, these appearances, as well 
as the condition of the internal organs, strongly indicated 
poisoning by cherry-laurel water, but one very eminent man 
refused to express an opinion, and that was the celebrated 
John Hunter. His testimony in this case is a finished speci- 
men of evasive answering, but does not reflect high credit 
on his judgment or impartiality. Notwithstanding the 
favorable effect of Hunter's testimony, the jury returned 
a verdict of guilty against Captain Donellan in ten minutes, 
and in a few days after he was executed. The weight of 
Hunter's negative testimony led many to believe that 
Donellan was falsely convicted, and that a stroke of apoplexy 
would have produced precisely similar effects. One well- 
known surgeon has characterized this case as ''a melancholy 
instance of the unhappy effects of popular prejudice and 
the fatal consequences of medical ignorance.'' 

A case is recorded in the Transactions of the Medical 



1S6T.] POISONS AND POISONERS. 357 

Society of London in which a whole family were poisoned 
by the use of sugar that had been put into a cask previously 
containing the carbonate of lead. Dr. Christison's experi- 
ments have given these results : Distilled water deprived of 
its gases and excluded from contact with the air is not acted 
on by lead ; but if rain or snow water is thus exposed, the 
surface of the lead becomes quickly coated and white pearl 
scales are seen suspended in the liquid. This is the car- 
bonate of lead, and if the water be received into the system 
in this condition, all the symptoms of lead-poisoning are 
witnessed. Spring and river water, however, contains a 
number of mineral salts, many of which, especially the 
sulphate of lime and the muriate of soda, neutralize the men- 
strual power of water, so that it can dissolve but a very 
minute quantity of lead. It is well known that wines and 
liquors are adulterated extensively with the acetate or sugar 
ot lead, and that their astringent eifect on the system is due 
to this. The ancients knew that the harsh qualities of wine 
were toned down by the addition of lead, though they used 
it for this purpose in sparing quantities. During the middle 
ages wines were so extensively adulterated with this sub- 
stance that in many states the sale of the article was en- 
tirely prohibited. The most injurious effects of lead are 
observed among painters who are constantly handling it 
and inhahng the effluvium of white-lead. Paralysis ot the 
fingers and wrists, convulsive motions, prostration of 
strt^ngth, a short. dry cough, and entire prostration of strength, 
indicate the action of the poison. 

Whenever oil or any fatty substance has been allowed to 
statid for a length of time in a copper vessel a compound 
known as verdigris forms, and this has been the cause of 
many sad accidents. In 1781 twenty-one Jacobin friars 
were poisoned in Paris by eating fish which had been cooked 
in a copper vessel with oil and vinegar, and the history of 
medical jurisprudence abounds with similar instances. There 
can be no doubt, then, that copper vessels, which so many good 
housewives delight to see glistening on their cupboards, con- 
tain the germ of death beneath their highly burnished sur- 
faces. 

We can no more than glance at the narcotic class of 
poisons, the principal one of which, as every one knows, is 
opium. As we have before stated, the ancients were well 
acquainted with the poisonous qualities of the papaverf or 
poppy, from which opium is extracted. Owing to the 



358 POISONS AND .FOisoNXBS. [Marcb, 

length of time this substaDce takes to cause death and the 
ease with which its action on the system is perceived, it has 
never been much used by poisoners. Suicides, however, 
have of late years employed it a great deal, especially in the 
concentrated shape of morphine. It produces profound 
lethargy when taken in a fatal quantity, contraction of the 
pupiU, slow and labored breathing, and from this state the 
slumberer rarely recovers. 

The effects of narcotic poisons are pretty uniform, so 
that we might say of them : Ex uno disce omnes. There is an- 
other class of poisons which combine the irritant and nar- 
cotic characters and a prominent exemplar of which is 
strychnine. This is the extract of nux vomica and akin to 
the Upas tiense of Java. It is much employed in tiie East 
and is the basis of those dreadful secret poisons which the 
Asiatics use. Its effect on the system is to cause violent 
spasms and convulsions. During the spasms the legs are 
extended and separated, the head and trunk bent backwards, 
the foot incurvated, the hands clenched, and the arms some* 
times extended ; and just before to the paroxysm there is a 
sense of suffocation, with twitching and trembling of the 
limbs. It was this poison Wuinewright, the celebrated Eng- 
lish poisoner, used when he poisoned his niece to obtain the 
insurance policies on her life. 

A late case of poisoning by belladonna, or deadly 
night-shade, which occurred near New York, will ren- 
der a word or two on the peculiar properties of this 
plant not out of place. The first and immediate symp- 
toms it produces are dilatation and immobility of the 
pupil, total insensibility of the eye to the presence of ex- 
ternal objects, prominence of the eye-ball, which generally 
appears bright and furious ; there is then great dryness of the 
lips, tongue, and throat; inability to stand upright, twitching 
of the hands and fingers, lively delirium, loss of voice, silly 
iaughter ; and when the case does not terminate fatally, a 
gradual return to health and reason without any recollection 
of the preceding state.* It is strange that any intelligent 
person should have had recourse for poisoning purposes to 
an agent the effects of which are so very striking as to 
impress even the most unsophisticated persons with the 
belief that a poison must have been used. 

♦ OrfilA'i Toxicology, rol. ii, p. 201. 



186).] NEQRO RUIiB IN HATTI AND THE LKSSONS IT TIACHES. 869 



Art. VI. — 1. Present State ofHayti. By J. Franklin. London: 
1860. 

2. Histoire d'Saiti depuia sa discouverte jvsq^en 1824. Par 

Chablis Malo. Paris. 

3. Notes on Eayti. By Charles Mackkkzib, late English Con- 

8ul-General to that Island. London: 1851. 

4. Jtemlations de Saint-Dominique. Par M. Lagroix. Paris: 

1862. 

There are few even of the older countries of the world 
whose political history is more instructive than that of the 
island ofHayti; it would be particularly valuable to the 
people of the United States, for various reasons, if they 
would only study it thoughtfully. If for no other purpose, 
it ought to be studied for the insight which it gives into the 
character of the negro as a citizen^ possessing and exerciainff 
political rights, and as a member of society controlled and 
influenced only by the members of his own race who are 
similarly situated. Nowhere else can his characteristics be 
so fully examined ; for we see him in Hayti, first in his native 
conditiDUy just arrived from the wilds of Africa, then as a 
slave forced to obey a haughty, if not cruel, master, who re- 
gards him as little better than the orang-outang or the 
ape; then as an insurgent fighting for the rights of man; 
then as a free man who has accomplished his own freedom 
in spite of one of the greatest powers in Christendom, and, 
finally, as a politician, statesman, and sovereign. 

Our legislators Specially would do well, therefore, to turn 
their attention to Hayti. It is their solemn duty; but that they 
do not <?o it, however, is but too evident from the course they 
pursue; their speeches and mode of argument — and, above 
all, the manner in which they boast of what they have accom- 
plished show that they are as ignorant of the events that have 
transpired in that island, so near our coasts, within the last 
two centuries, as they are of thoise which transpired in 
Tyre or Carthage thousands of years ago. 

We have at least five millions of negroes and mulattoei 
in this country ; the number is probably nearer to six mil- 
lions. Whether one or the other, it is constantly in- 
creasing, whatever certain of our political economists say to 
the contrary. Nothing is more certain than that the negroes 
bom in this country increase in a much larger ratio, in spite 



860 NEORO RtJLB IN HATTI [Msrch, 

of their privations, than the native whites. And while the 
former improve physically from generation to generation, the 
latter very perceptibly degenerate. If the whites increase 
in this country much more than the negroes, it is because so 
many thousands of emigrants are constantly arriving from 
Europe. In order that the most skeptical may satisfy them- 
selves on this point they have only to look around them and 
examine the rate of increase or decrease of any of the older 
families that have been three or four generations in this 
country. They will be surprised at the proportion of the 
oldest that have become extinct altogether, or who at 
best are becoming less and less prolific from one generation 
to another. Without enlarging on this point we may safely 
assert that, notwithstanding the severe cold of winter in the 
northern States, the climate of our country is, upon the 
whole, more favorable to the negro than it is to the white. 

Now that slaveiy no longer exists, this fact will soon 
become much more apparent than it has hitherto been ; for 
the experience of all countries shows that, notwithstanding 
the indiscriminate licentiousness of slaves, they never in- 
crease as much as free people. On the contrary, their tend- 
ency always is to die out. We need not go beyond the 
island now under consideration for an illustration of this. 
The most Reliable historians of the Spanish conquests tell us 
that when Hayti was discovered by Columbus it had a popula- 
tion of nearly three millions, if not more than that number,* 
and it is notorious that in an incredibly short time the whole 
aboriginal population was exterminated by the cruel manner 
in which they were treated, in forcing them to perform hard 
and constant labor, to which their strength was not equal, t 

Had this extermination of a whole numerous population 
taken place in ancient times it would have been regarded at 
the present day as a fable. But even those of the Spanish 
historians who are most anxious to conceal the cruelties of 
their countrymen do not deny the melancholy fact, but admit 
that it was to take the place of the exterminated aborigines 
the negroes were brought in such large numbers from Africa. 
The latter would have become extinct in a similar manner had 
not new cargoes been arriving constantly. But no sooner did 

^ Vide Las Caaas. 

t ** Trait^s par lea Eapagaola/' says M. Eyries, " arecuQC croaut^ t6voU 
tante, forc^ k des travaax |qui exc6daient lean forces, poar assoarir I'aTarioe 
de leurs oouquSraats, oes malheareux perierent. Yen le milieu du seiaidme 
si^le il ne restait plus ua seal indigene i Htdtl'^—Biatotre d^HaiU^ ^., p, 114. 



186T.] AND THE LI8S0K8 IT TEACHES. 861 

they free themselves fom slavery than they began to exhibit 
a steady increase, although they no longer received any ad- 
ditions to their number from Africa. If slavery has not 
exhibited the same phenomenon in our Southern States it is 
because the Southerners treated their negroes very dilSferently 
from the Spaniards ; yet it is beyond dispute that even 
under the comparatively mild and indulgent treatment of the 
former the increase of the negroes was seriously retarded by 
the institution of slavery. 

Another interesting fact which our legislators can learn 
from the history of Hayti is, that they were by no means the 
best or most humane men who were the first Ab litionists of 
modern Europe, except the bloody revolutionists ot France 
— ^those who murdered helpless women and exhibited their 
heads on poles— can be regarded in that light ; the same men 
who trampled on the Christian religion, and who set up a 
nude courtesan as a goddess to be worshipped, and under 
whose reign of terror fidelity, respectabilityi and virtue were 
crimes worthy of the most ignominious death. So early as 
1790 the National Assembly of France abolished slavery. 
As there was some ambiguity in the decree the white colonists 
would not believe that the liberation of the slaves was really 
contemplated by the government. At least this was the 
representation they made; they did not remain inactivci 
however, but soon formed a Legislative Assembly of their 
own. A large proportion of negroes were elected to this ; 
but the whites indignantly excluded them, solemnly swearing 
that they would perish rather than suflTer the degradation of 
being the equals ot the blacks. 

This declaration was followed by the promulgation of sev- 
eral laws ; but the French Governor, Peynier, called on the 
Colonial Assembly to separate ; the members resisted, but the 
Governor was sustained by the regiment of Colonel Maud- 
uit. As they were now forced to disperse, they resolved to 

Sroceed to France in order to state their case in person to the 
ational Assembly; but, instead of giving them any satisfac- 
tion, that body had them all arrested and put in prison. Its 
next care was to pass a decree (October 12, 1791) annulling 
the decrees of the Colonial Assembly against the negroes, 
and sending troops to Hayti to enforce it. These troops 
were so much disgusted with the work they were required 
to perform that, instead of obeying orders on reaching the 
island, they formally declared themselves in a state of revolt. 
Mauduit*s regiment, which had previously dispersed the 



862 NEGRO RULE IN BATTi [Harch, 

Colonial Legislature, imitated the example of the newly ar- 
rived troops, and on his attempting to remonstrate with 
them they instantly killed him. When this news reached 
France the National Assembly passed a new decree which, 
it was hoped, might be accepted as a compromise by both 
parties. It provided that the mixed bloods (mulattoes) 
of all colors, who were born of free parents, were entitled to 
all the privileges of the whites, and could sit with them in 
all provincial and colonial assemblies. As mighc be 
expected, the negroes were rejoiced at this; but it 
made the whites more indignant than ever. A new elec- 
tion was ordered ; the mulattoes, fully aware of the feelings 
entertained towards them, armed themselves at once in or- 
der to defend their rights, and they were joined by the 
negroes. 

It is almost needless to remark that these proceedings 
caused the greatest consternation among the whites. On 
learning the results of its new decree the National Assembly 
began to comprehend that it had committed a fatal error. 
Accordingly it despatched commissioners with a proclama- 
tion of amnesty to all who would lay down their arms 
within a specified time, and take the required oath of 
obedience to the new constitution. But they were pursued 
by the colored people of all shades with so much fury that 
they were obliged to return to France as soon as possible. The 
National Assembly changes its mind again and resolves to ad- 
here to the spirit of its first decree. Accordingly it passes a 
new decree April 4| 1792, expressly declaring that all colored 
men ^are entitled to the same political rights as the whites. 
Three new commissioners were sent to carry this decree into 
effect, and they were accompanied with an army of 8.000 
men of the ^lite of the French army. The commissioners 
with their troops arrive in due time, suppress the Colonial 
Assembly, arrest the governor, and send him to France, and 
declare themselves the protectors of the negroes. An inter- 
mediate commission is now formed composed of six whites 
and six mulattoes ; by this contrivance peace is maintained 
for a few weeks, although the whites, as a body, formally 
refuse to be influenced by it. The commissioners soon 
find that they can effect nothing, although they are every- 
where protected by the negroes against the wrath of 
the whites. Once more they issue a decree (August 29, 
1793) increasing still more the rights and privileges of the 
negroes. This so much enraged the whites that they did 



1867.] AND THB LESSONS IT TEACHES. 863 

not hesitate to call to their aid those whom they regarded as 
the worst enemies of the negro — namely, the British. 
Nor did the latter refuse to come to their aid. 

Be it remembered that the King of England at this time 
wasQeorge III., whose sentimentsin regard to slavery are well 
known. We will, howevei:, state one or two facts which will 
sufficiently illustrate those sentiments. In the year I7S6, 
during the reign of this sovereign, England carried off 42,000 
slaves from Africa. This number may well seem incredible ; 
butletitbebornein mind thatshe had 130 ships engaged in the 
slave trade at this time.* There is nothing his Majesty admired 
in Queen Anne more than " her enlarged views on the subject 
of black labor.'' And what these enlarged views were may be 
interred from a despatch which her Majesty once sent the colo- 
nial government of New York, directing it to take care " that 
the Almighty should be devoutly and duly served according to 
the rites of the Church of England ; and also that the Royal 
African Company should be encouraged, and that the colony 
should have a constant and sufficient supply of merchantable 
negroes at moderate rates." 

We mention these facts because it is very generally 
supposed in this country that the British were the first to 
liberate their slaves, whereas the truth is that while the 
French were abolishing slavery altogether and declaring the 
negro as tree as the white man, even the philanthropists 
of England were only calling for the abolition of that dis- 
grace! ul trade in which, as we have seen^ 130 British vessels 
— often more — were regularly enga2;ed. In one month after 
the French decree in favor of the slave (April, 1791) Mr. 
Wilberfbrce's bill for the abolition of the slave trade 
was rejected by the British Parliament with indigna- 
tion f Seven years after (1798) it was lost by a majority 
of 88 to 83 ; and the traffic was not finally abolished until 
1807. But slavery remained in full force in the British 
West Indies for 27 years longer — thatis, until August 1 , 1834. 
Now, soUiC idea may be formed of the number of negroes 
dragged from their homes in Africa by the British from the 
fact that, although the number of slaves had greatly diminished 

o The Abbe Raynal computes that at the time of his writing (1780) 
9,000,000 oT si ives had been consumed by the Europeans. Cooper, in his Lei' 
ter9 on the Slave Trade estimates the number destroyed by the traffic at 180,000,000. 

t Nothing is more common than to denounce Austria as the enemy of 
human ireedom, etc. ; yet Austria abolished slavery In 1782 — more than half 
A century before England did. 



364 KEORO BULB IN hatfi [Marcb, 

at the time of the emancipation, there still remained 770,280.* 
It will thus be understood why it was that the British 
were invited by the white colonists of Hayti to help them 
to force back the negroes to slavery. Nor were they mis- 
taken in thinking that such an invitation would readily be 
responded to. On the 29th of August, 1793, as we have 
seen, all colored people were declared by the French 
government to be the politic^il equals, in every respect, of 
the whites; and on the 9th of the following month several 
British regiments landed on the island under command of 
General Maitland. They first pretended to the blacks that 
their object was only to recover some tracts of territory 
which had formerly belonged to them; but their statement 
was not accepted. 

It was now that Toussaint Louverture first brought 
himself prominently before the world as a commander. 
Hitherto he had fought against the French in the 
Spanish service ; now he turns over to the French, who 
had liberated all of his race under their control, in order 
to attack the worst enemies of that race.t Well aware 
from experience that he was an excellent officer and 
good soldier, the French made him commander-in-chief of 
the armies of St. Domingo. The result showed that this 
was the most judicious appointment yet made in Hayti; 
for although the British received a reinforcement of 7,000 
men just at this time, it was not long until every British 
soldier was obliged to leave the island. 

After expelling the invaders Toussaint turned his 
attention to the improvement of agriculture, the open- 
ing of canals, the making of roads, &c.; and in a short time 
his efforts proved remarkably successful. But Napoleon, 
now become First Consul, began to regard his acts as having 

* P rom autheatic documeuts presented to PdrliAmeat ia IS'iS, it appeared 
tbat 8,600,000 Africans liad been torn from their country after 1792, that is 
afetr France and Austria had abolished slavery. 

t Some think that ttie Spaniards were worse than the English in their 
treatment of those under their control, but many Englishmen feel constrained 
to uduiit that the fact was otherwise, at least in relation lo the negroes (Tide 
Cooper and Butler on the slave trade). Assuming that the Spanish were the 
firut to begin the worlc of cruelty and inhumanity, it must IJe admitted lui too 
true tbat the British showed themselves apt pupils in iutitating them in their 
worst atrocities. Their treatment of the Maroons, of Jamaica will sufficiently 
illustrate this. Speaiiing of one of the efforts of the latter to render them- 
selves indtrpendent, Mr. Goodrich says : **The negroes were at first successful, 
but at length the English adopted the practice of the Spaniards m the txtermi- 
nationqt tkeruUwet. They obtained blood haundt from Cuba, 6y thehiip (^ ttkiek 
the JUaroont wen driven into (Hs fnocinlatfu, and uUimattfy Miiged to wbmU. Historr 
of all NaUons, vol. ii., p. 1190. 



18€t.] AND THE LESSONS IT TEACHES. 865 

a tendency to render the colony independent ; accordingly 
he sent a fleet of thirty-six war vessels and a large number 
of transports to subdue the island. When the news reached 
Tonssaint he issued a proclamation, the chief object of which 
was to allay the fears of his countrjrmen ; he told them that 
they should be prepared to receive the expedition, not as 
enemies, but as friends. The general opinion is that he did 
not believe the new troops would attack the negroes. Ac- 
cordingly, General Rochambeau entered Fort Fran^ais 
February 2, 1802, without any resistance; but General 
Leclerc found a difibrent state of feeling at Cape Haytien. 
The commandant here was General Christopher, another 
colored man ; being called upon to surrender the town he 
sternly refused. Seeing that the French were preparing to 
attack it, and knowing that his small army was unable to 
dispute it with so superior a force, he set the place on fire 
and retreated into the interior. Several other towns were 
taken in a similar manner after more or less resistance ; and 
it was not until now that Toussaint Louverture resolved to 
oppose the French. But once resolved, it was in vain that 
Leclerc made him the most tempting; promises ; it was in 
vain that Napoleon sent proclamations in rapid succession, 
ofiering a general amnesty, &c. His principal officers de- 
serted him ; a price was set on his head ; still he did no- 
permit himself to be defeated, although several times attackedt 
However, as all the other commanders of the blacks ceased, 
to make any serious resistance, the French general (Leclerc) 
regarded the insurrection as put down ; and issued a procla- 
mation, as directed by Napoleon, declaring slavery re-estab- 
lished throughout the island. Now Toussaint attacked the 
French in earnest ; hitherto he had not believed that any 
such measure was seriously contemplated. 

Shortly after the decree was issued he succeeded in 
forming a junction with the army under Christopher ; and 
the combined colored troops soon took possession of every 
post held by the French, who were forced to make a precip- 
itate retreat to Cape Haytien. But Napoleon, having cal- 
culated on this reaction as a consequence of the restoration 
of slavery, had in the meantime despatched strong rcinforce- 
vments to Hayti. Leclerc, finding himself reinforced by 
4,500 men, again took the field at once ; and this time the 
negroes were completely overpowered. All submitted and 
a general amnesty was proclaimed. 

Not long after the yellow fever broke out with fearful 



366 NjBGRO RULE IN HATTi [Marcb, 

violence amongst the French ; seeing their ranks thus deci- 
mated and regarding themselves as cruelly persecuted, the 
negroes broke out once more in rebellion. Toussaint, bding 
suspected of having favored the new movement, if it was 
not he that had chiefly instigated it, was arrested at his 
residence ; and before he was allowed to make any effort to 
vindicate himself from the charge, he was embarked privately 
on one of the war vessels and sent to France, where be died 
in prison only a few months after his arrival (April, 1803). 
But Leclerc, who had sent him, died before him (November, 
1802) in Hay ti. The latter was succedeed in the command-in- 
chief of the French by Rochambeau, and Dessalines, another 
negro, became general-in-chief of the blacks. The yellow 
fever continued to make frightful ravages among the French. 
It was found towards the close of the year that not less than 
twenty thousand had perished from the combined effects of 
disease and the sword. There was now but a remnant left 
of one of the finest armies in the world. 

The British, on becoming aware of this state of things, 
once more made a descent on the island. Finding the small 
army left already closely invested by an overwhelming force 
of negroes at Cape Fran9ais, a British frigate cast anchor in 
such a position as to render it impossible for the besieged to 
receive any aid from the sea. The sufferings of the French 
were so severe that they were forced to surrender to the 
British on condition that they would not be massacred by the 
negroes, but be allowed to remove their sick and wounded. 
Thus ended the power of the French in the island of Hayti. 
And that the English were not allowed to gain a very 
strong foothold upon it is sufficiently evident from the 
fact that a proclamation was issued by Dessalines, March 
29, 1804, for the massacre of all the whites on the island. 
This fact needs no comment; it is sufficient to remark, 
in passing, that it teaches a useful lesson to those who reflect 
upon it and may have dealings with armed negroes. 

The French had scarcely been expelled in the manner in- 
dicated when the Haytians formally declared themselves inde- 
pendent and appointed Dessalinesgovernor for life. But Napo- 
leon had declared himself emperor ; and so must Dessalines, 
who assumes the title of Jacques I. in October, 1804. But 
even his troops soon became disgusted with his tyranny ;* 



o Even when he proclaimed a general amnesty whUe in power, those against 
whom he had any spite derired no benefit from that pcoclamition, butwere 
put to death without meicy.—MiweUe BUtg,^ OiniraUt tqL ziii., p. 909. 



1867.1 AND THE LESSONS IT TEACHES. 867 



his governmeDt was hardly worthy of the name ; it was 
little better than a system of spoliation and fraud. Before 
he has completed the second year of his reign a military re- 
volt takes place and the Emperor is assassinated. 

The anarchy which prevailed during his reign was much 
increased now ; for several claimed the right to succeed him, 
some as merely governor or president, others as king. For 
Dearly a year the various chieftains continued to fight with 
each other ; finally Christopher succeeded in having himself 
appointedchief magistrate for life, but only, be it remembered, 
of the northern part of the island, for Potion became presi- 
dent at the same time of the southern part. 

In thiswe have another instructive lesson ; as there were no 
longer any whites the colored people must form themselves 
into separate nationalities, Christopher becoming the head of 
the black republic and Potion the head of the mulatto repub- 
lic. No two races ever hated each other more cordially than 
these, and, accordingly, they were perpetually at war. 
Christopher, like his predecessor, soon became tired of the 
democratic title of president, and declared himself king in 
1811, after which he is known as Henry I. It may be 
doubted whether a baser tyrant has ever ruled even in Ash* 
antee ; a revolt takes place in October against his authority. 
Knowing how much he was execrated and having no means 
of escape, he shot himself in order to avoid a more horrible 
and ignominious death. 

In order that the situation of the island at*this time may 
be fully understood, it is necessary to bear in mind that in 
1795 Spain had ceded her part of it to France; as 
the latter was too much engaged elsewhere to avail herself 
of the gift, the former reoccupied her old colony in 1808. 
She derived very little benefit from it, however ; her posses- 
sion of it was little more than nominal, her chief object in it 
being to have at least a good landing-place so near Cuba. It 
was sufficient, however, to give the blacks an opportunity 
of once more declaring themselves free and independent; 
and Spain scarcely made any opposition to their doing so. 
The change created some disturbance, however. Boyer, the 
successor of Potion, as President of the mulatto Republic, 
took advantage of this and marched an army into the dis- 
turbed districts, and was so successful that in 1822 the whole 
of the island was united under his government. 

But was it anything the better for this? Instead of im- 
proving under Boyer it grew worse and worse from year to 



868 KSORo BULE IK HATTi [tfarch, 

year. The preTailing anarchy increased to such an extent that 
Charles X. thought he could accomplish in Hayti what failed 
Napoleon — that is, force submission to such terms as it suited 
his plans to offer. The only excuse the government of France 
had at this time was that it had never recognized the in- 
dependence of Hayti. On this pretext M. De Mackau was 
despatehed to Hayti in 1825, with an ordinance of three ar- 
ticles. Article 1st provided that the ports of the French part 
of the island should be opened to the ships of all nations and 
that the taxes levied on those arriving and sailing should be 
uniform, except in the case of French vessels, which should 
be required to pay only one-half; article 2d required an in- 
demnity of one hundred and fiffcy millions (160,000,000) 'of 
francs, payable in five instalments ; article dd accorded full in- 
dependence to the Haytian government on these conditions. 

Absurd as this proposition was, it was acceded to by the 
frightened President and his Legislatiire, because it was sus- 
tained by a squadron of two ships of the line, eight frigates 
and five brigs, which appeared before Port-au-Prince. Thirty- 
two years previously a fleet three times as large was sent 
more than once, in vain, by the greatest conqueror of modem 
times. Now the proposed treaty was signed at once, (July 
1 1, 1825), and the same year the first instalment was paid by 
means of a loan obtained on high interest from French capi* 
talists. In addition to this the Chamber of Representatives 
was required to pass a law recognizing the remainder of 
the indemnity as a national debt. But when the next instal- 
ment became due the government had become so insolvent 
and demoralized that it could get no loan. Thus did mat- 
ters stand until 1838, when anew treaty was formed, France 
agreeing to reduce theindemnity to 60 millions, payable in six 
instalments, the last to be paid in 1867 (the present year); 
but only two instalments were paid when a revolution broke 
out (1842), which forced Boyer to flee. 

This revolution resulted in dividing the colony once more* 
into two republics — the black aud the mulatto— one called 
the Haytian Republic, the other the Dominican Republic. 
The president of the former marched into the territory of the 
latter with 20,000 menfor the avowed purpose of conquering 
it; but he was soon anxious to return as speedily as possible to 
his own part of the island. The failure decided his rate, for he 
was immediately banished. He was succeeded by Guerrier 
who died in less than a year; some say that grief at the wretch- 
ed state of his country was the cause of his death, while othen 



1867.] AND THB LS8S0NS IT TEACHES. 869 

attribute it to poison. Pierrot was appointed to succeed 
him, but he only conc^ucted the affairs of the government for 
a few weeks, when he resigned his power and retired into 
private life, regarding it as a hopeless task to bring order out 
of such chaos. 

Pierrot was succeeded by Richd> who died so suddenly 
after being installed as President that there seemed good 
reason to believe that he was poisoned. The next president 
wasFaustin Soulouque. Faustin, like several of his prede- 
cessors, did not like to see anv republic in Hayti but his 
own ; and, accordingly, one of his first exploits was to in- 
vade the eastern territory with an army of 5,000 blacks. He 
was opposed by a mulatto named Santana, with only 400 
men ; but the number was sufficient, for Faustin was com- 
pletely defeated April 21, 184^,' at Las Carreras and forced 
to make a precipitate retreat to his capital. He informed 
his people that he declined to fight, not because he had anv 
fear of 10,000 mulattoes, but he feared that the French, Eng- 
lish, and Americans had all combined to subdue Hayti and di- 
vide it amongst them. Of course, then, his best policy both as 
a general, a statesman, and a patriot, was to return home as 
rapidly as possible, and prepare to meet the treacherous com- 
bination that was being made against his country. 

Absurd as the story was, it was readily accepted. He 
affected to make great preparations to resist the allied armies of 
Europe and America, and suggested that, as a strong govern- 
ment was essential in such a crisis, it was best for him to be- 
come Emperor ; not that he cared anything for the title — he 
preferredthat of president — but he was always ready to sacri- 
fice his own wishes for the good of his country ! All this, too, 
was believed by the large majority of the people; and. accord- 
ingly, he mounted the imperial throne in August of the same 
year, assuming the title of Faustin I., Emperor of Hayti. 

It would be impossible to burlesque the court with 
which the new sovereign surrounded himself ; not only did 
he appoint princes and princesses of the blood, dukes, 
marquises, counts, lords, barons, &c. ; he also founded two 
orders of knighthood, that of St. Faustin and the Legion of 
Honor. But all this had its serious as well as its ludicrous 
side ; for, to support such pomp money was required, and 
accordingly the people were plundered without remorse.. 
They endured the systematic robberies perpetrated upon, 
them in virtue of arbitrary edicts — sometimes without any 
edict — until they could do so no longer. Then another insur-^ 

VOL. XIV. NO. xxvni. 11 



870 NEGRO RULE IK HATO [Harch, 

rection takes place, headed by Geffrard, one of the imperial 
generals ; Faustin is forced to fly, and Geffrard declares the 
republic and himself restored its President. This was in Feb- 
ruary, 1859 ; but in September of the same year the new 
ruler was attacked at his own residence as a tyrant, and his 
daughter was shot, through a window, having been mistaken 
for himself by the conspirators. 

Brief as this sketch is, it may well seem a caricature ; it 
is, however, but too true; indeed, it gives but a faint idea of 
th^ miserable, gloomy, constantly retrograding condition 
of the negroes in Hayti under negro rule. Far be it from 
)i8 to attribute this to the emancipation of the slaves; we 
entertain no such theory; althoughcertain it is that the people 
in general were much better off while slavery existed than 
they are now. But they were so not on account of slavery, 
but in spite of its baneful influence ; they were so because 
they had then the white man to think for them, to guide 
them, and show them how the products of their rich and 
prolific soil could be made available. 

It may seem strange how well the negroes fought in their 
wars with the French, Spaniards, and English; how 
often they defeated some of the best troops in the world. 
But they had not then entirely discarded the guidance 
of the whites; and be it remembered that the black 
generals who distinguished themselves so well had the 
advantage of the best military instruction in the world. 
If they defeated the French by overwhelming superiority 
of numbers it was the French themselves who had taught 
them to do so. Several of them had been thoroughly 
educated in France;*^ and many who had never been in 
that country had been educated at home by French, 
Spaniards and English. When the degenerate rulers, not con- 
tent with banishing the whites, caused large numbers of 
them to be massacred in cold blood, it is not difficult to un- 
derstand that the condition of the country became worse and 
worse from year to year. 

o TbiB waB true, for example, of YiDoent Ogl, who was educated in Paris, 
and after his return to Hayti in 1790, was broken on the wheel with his 
brother, while 21 of his followers were hanged for having excited an insurrec- 
tion. 

Tonssaint Louyertnre was well educated by his master, M. Ballly, captain 
of a French merchant ship, who had purchased him from his former owner 
with the intention of preparing him for his liberty. In short he allowed him 
all the o pportunities possessed by his son, including the use of a good library. 
While Toussaiat w«s reading the Abb6 Raynal's Bidoirt det deux Indes, he met 
with the passage which says that ** One day a black would appear whose 
jnission it would be to avenge his outraged race/' and passionately exclaimed^ 
•** Bayrud ut prophiU d moi." 



1867.] AKD TfiB LSSSOVS IT TJBAGHIS. 371 

For the proof of this we have not to depend upon mere as- 
sertion ; the vastly diminished products of industry prove 
it. The change that has taken place in this respect would 
seem utterly incredible were it not supported by the concur- 
rent testimony of all the commercial nations in the world. 
Nay, the markets alone, or the statistics of exports and im- 
ports of France, England, and the United States, would place 
the fact beyond doubt. Thus, will it be believed that the 
exports of Hayti were eight times as great seventy years ago 
at they are now^ while the population is nearly, if not quite, 
twice as large now as it was then ? In 1798 the exporta- 
tions of the island amounted to 135,000,000 of francs, while 
its importations from France alone amounted to 64,000,000. 
In short, the products of its industry kept in busy occupa- 
tion 710 vessels, manned by 18,400 sailors. But how many 
do they occupy at the present day ? Certainly not more 
than one hundred, if so many. 

A few plain figures which may be found in any of the 
works placed at the head of this article will explain the differ- 
ence. Thus in 1791, the year the National Assembly passed a 
decree declaring the blacks equal to the whites, the exports 
of coffee for the island amounted to 68,151,180 francs ; the 
sugar exported the same year amounted to 163,405,220. In 
1804 the former had diminished more than one-half — to 
31,000,000 ; and the latter in nearly the same proportion — 
CO 47,600,000. In 1822 the exportation of sugar had di- 
minished to 625,541 lbs. 

At the present day there is no sugar worth mention- 
ing exportea from Hayti ; the amount of coffee is not one- 
fourth as much as it used to be, and the amount of cotton 
is not one«tenth as much. Instead of cultivating sugar, 
coffee, cotton, and other commodities which would enrich 
the country, while they would contribute much to the 
comforts of the people of every country in Europe and 
America, both the blacks and mulattoes devote their atten- 
tion to cutting wood and to the crudest kind of agriculture. 

In a word, the negro has abandoned the plantation for the 
forest ; and hence it is that almost the only exports worth 
mentioning made by either of the two republics, which divide 
the island, and between which there is just now a sort of 
armed truce, are different kinds of wood. These few plain, 
undisputed facts afford more instruction as to what negroes 
will do, and what they will come to when left to them- 
selves, and taught to believe that they are the equals of the 
whites, than any amount of declamatory speeching. 



812 THE SUN AND ns DISTAKCS FBOM THB CARTB. [March, 



Art. VII. 1. United States Astronomical Expedition to the Southern 
Hemisphere during the Fear* 1849. '60, '61, *52. Vol. III. 
The Solar Parallaat, By Lieut. J. M. GilusS| LL. D., Saper- 
intendent Pub. Doc. Washington: 1866. 

2. Astronomical and Meteorological Observations made at the 
United States Naval Observatory during the Year 1863. By 
Oaptain J. M. OiLLiss, U. S. N., Superintendent Pub. Doc. 
Washington : 1866. 

Next to the earth the sun is to us the most important 
body in the universe. A body on which so much of our 
physical happiness depends must, at an early age, have 
stimulated mankind to make exertions to ascertain its 
distance. At first appearance it might have seemed 
imposssible to measure the distance of a body to which it is 
impossible for us to go. But the ingenuity of man seems 
to know no bounds ; and when he has once determined to solve 
a question, the means of doing it are certain to be discovered* 

•• The measure of the sun's distance," says the English 
Astronomer Royal , Airy, ^* has always been considered the 
noblest problem in astronomy." To this Dr. Gould adds : 
** This distance, known or unknown, is, and must ever be, 
the standard length in which every linear measure of a 
celestial object beyond the moon is directly or indirectly ex- 
pressed ; whether it be the distance of a satellite, a comet, or 
a fixed star ; the dimensions of a planet, or the gauge of a 
nebula. It is the astronomical unit, and every stellar 
distance is onl} known as a proportional one until this unit 
is established. It is, therefore, manifestly the duty of 
astronomers to flinch from no labor which gives a remote 
prospect of increasing the precision of our measurement of 
this fundamental quantity." 

Let us now sketch the history of the many attempts that 
have been made by astronomers in all ages of the world, 
from the most ancient of which we have any account down 
to the most recent^ to determine the sun's distance. We shall 
thus iearn how one difficulty after another has been over- 
come in approximating to the solution of this important hut 
difficult problem. Those who have no knowledge of the 
fundamental principles on which the solution of this problem 
is based can have but a faint conception of the reliance to 
be placed on the astronomer's determination of this very 
knportant astronomical unit. 



1867.] TUB SUN AND RS BISTANOB FROM THE EARTH. 878 

In order to find the distance of the sun from the earth, 
we must, in general, know the numerical value of his yaral" 
lax. Parallax may be defined to be the apparent change of 
place of an object in consequence uf being viewed from 
different points not in the same straight line with that object. 
These are the methods of finding the distance of the sun 
from the earth without finding the parallax directly ; we 
shall mention each in its proper place. 

Cleomedes offered the following argument to prove that , 
the sun is larger than it appears to be, and, consequently, ' 
that his distance must be considerable. He said that when 
the sun is rising behind a mountain the edges of his disc > 
are often, at the same time, seen on the opposite sides o( the 
mountain ; and he inferred that the sun, which appears no 
more than a foot in diameter, must in reality be larger 
than the mountain. 

Aristarchus, who flourished about 230 years B. C, 
proposed a method for determining the distance of the sun 
by comparing hii^ distance with that of the moon, and, con- 
sequently, finding it without knowing the solar parallax. 
If we could tell exactly when the moon's disc is dichotomized, 
or half enlightened, we should then know that the triangle 
formed by lines connecting the centres of the earth, sun, and 
moon, would be right-angled at the moon ; and as the sun 
and moon are then frequently both above the horizon, the 
angular distance between them can be measured, and thus 
the three angles of the triangle will]| become known and the 
relation of the sides will be known, and hence the ratio of the 
sun's distance to that of the moon will also be known. As the 
distance of the moon is pretty accurately known, the distance 
of the sun can be found. This is the first method of finding 
the sun's distance without a knowledge of his parallax. 
Aristarchus attempted to put it into practice. He 
found the angular distance between the sun and the 
moon equal to 87^, or the angle at the centre of the sun 
equal to 3^. This makes the distance of the sun nineteen 
times as great as that of the moon.* This we now 
know to be far from correct, but it must have assisted 
materially in enabling the ancients to form a conception of 
the approximate magnitude of the universe. The great 
difficulty with the method of Aristarchus consisted in deter- 
mining exactly when the moon's disc was dichotomized, and in 

• The Origin and Progreas of Astronomy, by John Narrien, F. B. A. S., pp. 
206-207. 



874 THE SUN AND ITS DISTANCE VROM THE EARTH. [March, 

measuring the angular distance between the sun and moon 
with such instruments as he possessed. Instead of the angle 
at the sun being 3°, as found by Aristarchus, we now know 
it to be no more than 8 ' or 9 '. 

Although the modern astronomer could approximate much 
more nearly to the relative distances of the sun and moon 
by this method, yet he would meet with too many obstacles 
in the way ot bringing it practically into use to make it 
valuable in these days of exact determination. In conse- 
quence of the roughness of the lunar surface, which is brought 
out as soon as it is examined with a telescope of moderate 
power, the line which divides the dark from the illuminated 

5 art becomes so broken that it would be with no little 
ifficulty that the time could be determined when it exactly 
bisects the lunar disc. Again, the unequal refraction to 
which the sun and moon are subject when they are both 
above the horizon renders the exact determination of the 
angular distance of the sun from the moon a matter of con- 
siderable difficulty. 

Succeeding philosophers, by employing the method of 
Aristarchus and making more exact measurements, arrived 
at much more approximate results. Pliny informs us that 
Posidonius found the distance of the sun and moon from the 
earth to be respectively 500,000,000 and 2,000,000 stadia, 
which determination makes the distance of the sun 260 
times that of the moon — a result far from the truth, but a 
great step towards an exact determination. It is thought, 
however, that this result was brought out only by a fortu- 
nate compensation of errors. 

The Arabian astronomers have given numbers expressing 
the distance of the sun from the earth, but these seem to 
be derived from theory rather than from direct measure- 
ment. Alfraganus makes the distance of the sun equal to 
610 diameters of the earth ; and Ibn Junis increased it to 
883 diameters.* These numbers, although far from being 
correct, served to convey more accurate ideas of the magni- 
tude of the physical universe. 

Copernicus adopted a value of the sun's distance corre- 
sponding to 57 1 diameters of the earth. A distance nearly 
the same was adopted by other astronomers that lived about 
hii time or a little later. Tycho Brah^, the great Danish 
astronomer, by his accurate observations, laid the founda- 
tion for more exact knowledge respecting the sun's distance. 

* Nairien'B Origin and FrogresB of Astronomy, p. 807. 



1861. J , THB BUN AND ITS DIBTANOE FROM THS CARTH. 875 

While Eepler was engaged in his celebrated researchea 
on the planet Mars, and by means of which he discovered 
two of the well-known laws of physical astronomy, which 
bear his name, he took the opportunity to institute a search- 
ing scrutiny into the value of the solar parallax by reduc- 
ing in the most careful way the numerous ob- 
servations of Tycho Brah^, The conclusion to which he 
finally arrived was that the solar parallax did not exceed 
one minute of arc. This value of the sun's parallax makes 
his distance only the one-seventh of what it is now known 
to be. In 1609, in his •* New Astronomy, or Commen- 
taries on the Motions of Mars," he regarded it difficult to as- 
sign limits to the solar parallax nearer than 0^ 4' 55" and 
0° r 45^ corresponding to a distance of 350 and 1,000 
diameters of the earth. ** In his Ephemerides for 1()17 and 
1617, he supposed the parallax to be 2' 29", according 
to Tycho Brah6, who deduced it from observations of 
the moon. Peter Cruger, Kepler's intimate friend, up- 
braided him for removing the sun * to such a huge dis- 
tance,' which would destroy the value of all Tycho's tables, 
after he had himself adopted the Tychonian value in the 
Ephemeris a few years before ; but Kepler replied that he 
had studied the subject with care, and did not hesitate to 
reduce Tycho's parallax by I' 40^, or two-thirds of its whole 
amount."* Kepler finally adopted a value of the sun's 
distance equal to 1,800 diameters of the earth, correspond- 
ing to a parallax of 49^ This parallax is still five-and-a- 
half times too great. 

In 1647 Godfrey Wendelin, a Belgian astronomer, deduced 
a parallax from morning and evening observations of the 
moon equal to 15" at the outside. This corresponds to a 
distance of 6,870 diameteYs of the earth. He fixed, as the 
most probable number, 7,328 diameters. In 1665 Ricciolus 
thought the above value of the sun's distance too great, and 
fixed upon a value of the solar parallax between 28"" and 
SO'", and concluded that neither of these values could be 
more than a few seconds of arc from the truth. 

The next attempt to determine the solar parallax 
was made by Cassini and Richer. The former re- 
solved to attack the problem indirectly by finding the par- 
allax of the planet Mars. When Mars is in opposition he 

Qould'8 Treatise on the Solar ParaUaz, U. S. Naval Ast. Expedition, p. Izi ; 
and Qrant'8 Hist. Fhys Ast., p. 211. 



876 THE 8UK AND UB DI8TAKGB FROM THB BARTH. [March, 

is much nearer the earth than the sun ; and by finding the 
parallax, and thence the distance of Mars^ we can arrive at 
the distance of the sun from the earth by means of Kepler's 
third law. In consequence of the great eccentricity of the 
orbit of Marsy his distance from the earth at different oppo- 
sitions is very variouSi as may be seen by the following 
table. If the earth's distance from the sun be called unity, 
the distance of Mars from the earth will be at the opposi- 
tion in — 

1860, about July 21 = 0.38 

1862, " October 1 = 0.39 

1869, " February 13 == 0.68 

1871, <« March 22 =0 64 

1877, " September 3 = 0.37 

We thus see that the distance of Mars at one opposition 
may be little more than half of what it is at another.* 

The French Academy sent M. Richer, in 1672, to Cay- 
enne, in South America, to make observations on Mars, then 
in opposition, while Cassini, Picard, and Roemer made 
observations upon the planet at Paris and Brion. *' The 
planet had been compared, both at Cayenne and Paris, with 
Aquarius x^ but Cassini did not succeed in obtaining any 
good value, farther than deducing an upper limit of 9", if 
the observations were to be trusted. In 1684, however, 
Cassini published a memoir revising his computations from 
the materials, and from correspondent observations, in 1672« 
September 5th, 9th, and 24th, deduced as the equatorial 
horizontal parallax of Mars, 25^", = 3,^" corresponding to a 
solar parallax of 9". 5 == l,'" or a distance from the earth 
of 21,600 terrestrial semi-diameters, and with a possible 
error of 2,000 or 3,000 semi-diameters. From these values 
he inferred the true diameter of the sun to be just one hun« 
dred times that of the earth.t 

We have now given an account of the first set of obser- 
vations that gave the observers a value of the parallax 
which we may call approximate, since we know it to 
i>e embraced within the limits of the probable error of the 
^result. ' 

If the planet Mars or any other celestial body be 
^viewed when it rises, and also when it sets, it will not be 
seen in the same direction, even if the body and the earth 

« See Smithsonian Report for 1859, p. 295. 
f Gk>uld, U. S. N. ABt. Ex., p. Ixiii. 



1867.] THX SUK AKD ITS DlfffANOE FROM THB SARTH. 377 

were to remain stationary in their orbits during the interval 
between rising and setting, since the observer will be carried 
by the rotation of the earth over a space of many milos 
during the time that elapses between the former and the 
latter observation. In this way it can be seen that a 
parallax could be measured if the body be near enough to 
have a measurable parallax. 

About the time when the observations mentioned 
above were made, Cassini, with Roemer and Sedileau, 
tried the method of parallaxes in right ascension ; a 
method which he first suggested and which he employed 
to ascertain the distance of the great comet of 1680. As 
satisfactory observations cannot be made on a celestial body 
when near the horizon, it is necessary to make the required 
observations when the body is at some distance above 
it. Cassiui's method was to take observations made 
on opposite sides of the meridian, and by comparing them 
to deduce a geocentric parallax, or a parallax as viewed 
from the centre of the earth. He was unable, however, 
to arrive at any satisfactory result, although he bestowed a 
great amount of labor on the investigation. 

Professor Airy, the Astronomer Royal of England, rec- 
ommends this method as not only worthy of a fair trial, but 
as the best of all methods for finding the parallax of Mars. 
It aflfords a longer base-line, which gives the par- 
allactic angle '' than the best which can be obtained by me** 
ridional combination of two observations. At Madras, in In- 
dia, the angle to be measured would be about 44". To this 
it is to be added that the method is attended with no expense 
whatever ; that the observations, which are compared, are 
made with the same telescope and by the same observer or the 
same series of observers ; that there is none of the tediousnesSi 
the wearying correspondence, or the doubt which is insep- 
arable Irom observations requiring distant co-operation ; and 
that the observer is supported by the feeling that his own 
unassisted observations will give a perfect system of means 
for deciding one of the most important questions in astron- 
omy." * 

Flamstead, who had been observing in England, com- 
pared his observations on Mars with those of Richer, and he 
fixed the upper limit of the parallax of Mars at 25'', so that 
the solar parallax could not exceed 10", or the distance 
•21,000 terrestrial semi-diameters. 

osmithfionian Beport for 1859, p. 296. 



318 THE 8VN AND ITS DISTANCE FR03C THE EARTH. [March, 

The transit of Mercury across the sun's disc in 1677, Oc- 
tober 28th, was observed by Dr. Halley at St. Helena, but 
the result was not satisfactory. Mercury is too near the sua 
to render his transit ot any value in determining the solar 
parallax. The reason is that he is nearer the sun than he is 
to the earth. 

lu the year 1740 La Caille went to the Cape of Good 
Hope, where he ma'ie a large number of observations of the 
declination of Mars in opposition; and by comparing these 
with corresponding observations made in the northern hemi- 
sphere, extending through six weeks, he deduced 10'\2 as 
the value of the solar parallax. In 1741 he repeated the in- 
vestigation with about the same result. In 1751 he 
computed the mean of four correspondent observations on 
Venus at her inferior conjunction and deduced the value 
-10".d8 as the equatorial, horizontal parallax of the sun ; and 
he thought that 10".25 might be taken as a value of the so- 
lar parallax, not differing either way from the truth more 
than 0".26. 

In 1760 Tobias Mayer tried a new method for determin- 
ing the solar parallax ; he did so by means of the lunar 
theory. In carrying the approximations in the lunar theory 
to the third order a term arises in the perturbations in the longi- 
tude whose argument simply depends on the angular dis- 
tance between the sun and moon, and one of the factors of 
the coefficient of which is the ratio of the mean distance of 
the sun and moon from the earth.* This coefficient had up 
to that time been computed by employing a value of the so- 
lar parallax equal to 10".8. Mayer, by deriving the value of 
this coefficient from observation was enabled to deduce 
a value of the solar parallax equal to 7'^8 and this he thought 
could not differ tirom the truth more than a twenty-fourth of 
its value. This is the second method of finding the distance 
of the sun without a previous knowledge of the solar paral- 
lax, the moon's distance being accurately known. Since 
Mayer's day other mathematicians have attained more accu- 
rate values of the solar parallax by this method than be 
had.t 

James Gregory, a very celebrated English philosopher and 
mathematician, first pointed out the utility of the transits 
of Venus for finding the value of the solar parallax.^ Although 

♦ Airy'g MoAh, Traett, p. 67. 

f TUohe Anolytiqu* du SyHeme du Monde. For Ponttoalanti vol. It. p. 600. ^ 

X Gnint'8 Hist. Fhys. Ast., p. 428. 



1867.] THE SUN AND ITi DISTANCE FROM THB BABTH. 379 

Gregory was the first to show that the transits of Venus 
might be used to determine the sun's parallax, yet it was Dr, 
Edmund Halley who urged astronomers to make all necessary 
preparation to observe so important a phenomenon. Hal- 
ley's earliest reference to the subject was in 1679. Subse- 
quently he took up the subject again in the volumes of the 
Philosophical Transactions for 1694 and 1716. Gregory 
mentioned the subject as early as 1663. The ability with 
which Halley expounded the peculiar advantages of the 
transits of Venus, for determining the distance of the sun 
from the earth, had the effect to arouse the different govern- 
ments of Europe to send expeditions to several parts of the 
world to observe the transits of 1761 and 1769. 

If we imagine the planet Venus to pass between the 
earth and the sun, it will appear to traverse the disc of the 
latter in a straight line, and the position of this line on the 
solar disc will depend on the observer's place on the earth. 
If there were two observers, one situated as far north 
and the other situated as far south of the plane 
of the ecliptic as possible, and that they would ob- 
serve the transit well, then the two lines along 
which the planet would appear to move would be 
separated from each other by a considerable distance ; and 
by being able to determine this distance the astronomer 
could then calculate the solar parallax. The distance of 
Venus from the earth at the time of a transit is to the dis- 
tance of, Venus from the sun very nearly as 7 is to 18 ; and 
it will readily be seen that the distance between the obser- 
vers (measured in a straight line) is to the distance between 
the lines of transit on the solar disc in the same ratio. 

We thus see that the distance which has to be measured on 
the sun's disc, is more than two and a halt times as great as the 
distance between the observers. This is one advantage of 
the transit ot Venus for finding the solar parallax. The angle 
formed at the centre of the planet by the two lines reaching 
from that point to the two observers is her parallax. 
This parallax, then, will be about two-and-a-half 
times as great as the corresponding one of the sun. We 
thus see that if there was an error of one second of arc in 
measuring the parallax of Venus, it would effect the value 
of the solar parallax to the amount of but two-fifths of a 
second of arc. Besides this advantage, the parallax of Ve- 
nus can be measured more accurately by observing the be- 
ginning and duration of the transit than by measuring the 



880 THS sun AND ITB DISTANOB FROM THE EARTH. [Ifarch, 

parallax directly, other things being equal. This shows 
that many things conspire to render the transits of Venas 
very important phenomena for determining the solar paral- 
lax. As soon as the distance of Venus from the earth is 
made known that of the sun from the earth results at once 
by means of Kepler's third law. 

A sufficient time before the transit of June the 6th, 176 1, 
several European governments despatched astronomers to 
suitable situations in different parts of the earth to observe 
it. The English sent Dr. Maskelyne to St. Helena; and 
Mason and Dixon (who subsequently measured an arc of the 
meridian in this country) were destined for Sumatra; but, 
fortunarely for astronomy, a want of time induced them to 
stop at the Cape of Good Hope, which'proved to be a much 
more desirable situation. The French Academy sent Pingr^ 
to Rodrigues, in the Indian Ocean. Another French astron- 
omer (Chapp6) was sent by the St. Petersburg Academy of 
Sciences to Tobolsk, in Siberia; and a Russian astronomer, 
(Rumowski) to Selinghinsk, near Lake Baikal, on the Mongo- 
lian frontier. Besides these, all the observatories in Europe 
were put in requisition, and observations were made at 
several missionary stations in Southern and Eastern Asia. 

The various observations were published and the solar 
parallax computed, but the results were anything else than 
harmonious. The value of the parallax deduced varies from 
8^33 to lOMO. In short the transit of 1761 did not add 
much to our knowledge of the astronomical unit. We be- 
lieve that the only American observation on this transit was 
made by professor John Winthrop, of Harvard Univer- 
sity. For ihe purpose of finding a favorable station he re- 
paired to St. John's, New Brunswick. His observations 
were published in the Transactions of the Royal Society of 
London tor 1764. 

The tailure of the transit of 1761 to add much to our 
knowledge of the solar parallax without doubt possessed 
some advantage, for it stimulated astronomers to make greater 
exertions to observe the transit of 1769 with the greatest 
possible accuracy ; and, besides, it was known that more 
than a century must pass betore another such oppor- 
tunity would present itself. Jn other respects the transit of 
1709 was more favorable for determining the solar parallax 
than its immediate predecessor. The best stations were 
occupied, and ** both ingress and egress were visible at 
numerous and widely remote points, which was not the 



L867.] THE SUN AND ITS DISTANCE FROM THE EARTH. 381 

case in 1761. Finally, an eclipse of the sun followed close 
after the transit, affording an excellent opportunity for fix- 
ing the longitude of the places of observation." • 

Every exertion was put forward by the votaries of as- 
tronomy to obtain accurate results ; and well has the late M. 
Encke said: ** Whatever may be the future judgment as to 
the actual issue, posterity will never be able to reproach 
either the astronomers or the governments of that period 
with having neglected to call sufficiently careful attention to 
the more important points, or with having failed to further 
and support scientific efforts with sufficient readiness." 

The transit of 1769 took place on the drd o{ June, and 
a sufficient time previous to it the different governments of 
Europe sent observers to the most eligible points to observe 
it. The famous expedition of Captain Cook to the South Sea 
was for that purpose, when the transit was observed by Mr. 
Green, the astronomer. Captain Cook, and Dr. Solander, the 
botanist to the expedition. Wales and Dymond were sent to 
Hudson's Bay ; Mason and Dixon observed in Ireland ; and 
an expedition under the direction of Mr. Call was sent to 
Madras. 

The French Academy sent Pingr6 to St. Domingo and 
the Abb6 Chappe to California. Chappe died there in 
August following, but his observations werepreserved by one 
of bis assistants and sent to Paris. The St. Petersburg 
Academy sent astronomers to three different stations in Lap- 
land — to one on the banks of the Lena, to another on the shores 
of the Caspian, and to several in the interior of Asia. 

The King of Denmark sent M. Hell, Professor of 
Astronomy in Vienna, to Wanihus, at the northern extrem- 
ity of Norway. Sauman observed in Finland. In this 
country the American Philosophical Society of Philadel- 
phia^ under the lead of the learned Dr. Rittenhouse, who 
had charge of the stations at Norriston ; Dr. Ewing of the 
one in Philadelphia ; and Mr. Biddle of one near Cape Hen- 
lopen. The day was fine and good observations were 
taken. 

The solar parallax was deduced from the published obser- 
vations by different computers, who obtained different re- 
sults, differing, however, much less from one another than 
from the transit of 1761. Planmann found 8^43 as the value 
of the equatorial horizontal parallax of the sun ; Lalande; 
8".50; Smith, 8^606; Lexell, 8^68; Maskelyne, 8''.723, 
Pingr^, 8^81 ; Hornsby, 8^78 ; and Euler, 8\82. In 1808 



882 THE SUN AND ITS DIBTAKCB FBOK THE EABTH. [Marcb, 

Ferrer subjected the observations to a new discussion, and 
obtained the result 8^615; and again, in 1815, to a very 
thorough discussion, which was posthumously published in 
1832, from which be found for the value of the parallax 
8^577 = 0^3. The highest authority, however, and the 
one now followed, is the discussion of the late Pro- 
fessor Encke, of Berlin. In 1S22 he published a volume 
containing a review and thorough discussion of the 
observations of the transit of 1761, June 6th, de- 
ducing the final value 8''.4905=0\607. In 1624 he published 
a second volume containing a similar critical examination 
and discussion of the observations of the transit of 1769, 
June the 3rd. In this volume he makes a certain correction 
disregarded in the first volume, and finally obtains as the 
value of the equatorial horizDntal parallax of the sun the 
following values : 

From the transit of 1761 8''.5309 — (r.0623 

From the transit of 1769 r.6030 — 0".0460 

From the two together 8^.5776 — 0".0370 

The station at Wardhus, or Wardo Island, in the Arctic 
Ocean, at the northeastern extremity of Norway, was a very 
important one for the observation of the transit of 1769, and 
to this place, as has already been mentioned. Hell 
was sent. Numerous circumstances tended to throw sus- 
picion on his published observations. Without stopping 
to detail everything that was afterwards discovered, suffice 
it to say that, in 1834, Prof. Littron, of Yienna, learned that 
some of the papers of Hell were in the possession of 
an Austrian gentleman. With a desire to obtain some clue 
to the Wardhus observations. Prof. Littron asked permission 
to consult them. This was not only granted, but all of 
Hell's MSS. were presented to the Vienna Observa- 
tory. Prof. Littron found among them Hell's astro- 
nomical note-book for the days June the 2d-4th, 1769. 
He found that the record of the original observations of the 
transit had been erased. Hewas only able to find two 
observations, one of ingress and the Other of egress, upon 
which reliance appears warrantable. Hell substituted other 
figures, derived from calculation, for the original record. Af- 
ter obtaining these facts, Encke recomputed the solar paral- 
lax and obtained the final result from both transits, equal to 
8^57116 — 0^0370, and this is the value now employed. 
It gives the mean distance of the sun from the earth 959- 



1867.] THE SUN AND ITS DISTANCE FROM THE EARTH. 388 

360,000 — 418,000 miles ; or the probable error is less than 
half a million of miles. 

In 1824, Burg, following the footsteps of Mayer, deduced 
a value of the solar parallax from the Lunar Theory equal to 
8^62. In the same manner La Place obtained S^.dl ; Pont6- 
coulaut, 8''-63 ; Lubboch, 8".84 and 8".S1 ; Hansen, 8''.88 ; 
Leverrier, 8".95. 

As the reader will see, the results derived from all the 
methods mentioned give a somewhat uncertain value to the 
solar parallax, and the need of a more exact determination 
of this important element was for some time felt. The next 
transit of Venus will not take place till the year 1874, and 
it was thought advisable to try some other method by means 
of which the adopted value might either be confirmed or 
corrected. To effect this Dr. Qerling, of the Marburg Uni- 
versity, proposed to make observations on the planet 
Venus about the period of her stationary points and 
retrograde motion, in opposite hemispheres (northern 
and southern) and nearly under the same meridian.* 
Dr. Gerling wrote to Lieut. J. M. Gilliss in 1847, 
explaining his method and urging him to undertake 
observations for this purpose. After much correspondence, 
and two years spent in preparation, Prof. Gilliss finally set 
sail on the 16th August, 1849, of for the western coast of 
South America. A detailed account of the origin of the expe- 
dition, and many other things connected with it, will be 
found in the Introduction to the volume referred to, at the 
foot of page 16. After an absence of thirty-nine months. 
Prof. Gilliss reached home, having made the necessary ob- 
servations, together with many others not having a direct 
bearing on the determination of the solar parallax. The mass 
of observations was placed in the hands of Dr. B. A. Gould, 
a young but able astronomer and mathematician ; and he 
treated the subject in a most thorough manner, subjecting 
the whole series to a rigid scrutiny. From this discussion he de- 
duced, as the value of the tquatorial horizontal parallax of the 
sun, 8" .5, a value a little less than that deduced by Encke 
from the transits of Venus, and corresponding to a distance 
from the earth of 96,160,000 statute miles. 

The opposition of Mars in 1862 being favorable for the 
determination of his parallax,t Captain Gilliss determined 

« See vol. iii, p. iii, of the U. S. K. Ast. Exp. to ChUi in South America, 
t See page 6. 



884 THE BUK AND ITS DISTANCE FROM THE EARTH. [March, 

to take the advantage of that circumstance, and invited 
the directors of different observatories to co-operate with 
him in making observations during the months of September 
and October of that year on his position. These observations 
^ve for the sun's parallax the value S^.SilS, a result cor- 
responding very nearly with that deduced by Subboch from 
the Lunar Theory. The error is supposed not to exceed 
one-tenth of a second of arc. This parallax corresponds to 
a distance of 92,400,000 miles. Experiments on the veloc* 
ity of light made by M. Foucault give a parallax equal to 
8".8G; and similar experiments by M. Fizeaa give S^da* 

The mean height of the barometer is connected with the 
velocity of the earth's rotation, and with its velocity in its 
orbit* and hence with the distance of the sun. As yet, this 
method can only give a rough approximation to the dis- 
tance of the sun, but it is valuable as affording the means, 
when the necessary observations accumulate, of corrobora- 
ting th^ results of other methods. Pliny Earle Chase finds 
by this the mean distance of the sun to be about 
91,000,000 miles.t This is the third method of finding the 
sun's distance without a knowledge of the parallax. 

We thus see that several different methods give very 
nearly the same value of the sun's equatorial, horizontal 
parallax, and all future observations must be directed to the 
reduction of the small probable error which now exists in 
the most accurate determination of the sun's distance. 

The next transit of Venus will take place in 1874, fol- 
lowed by another in 1882. All civilized nations will doubt- 
less vie with each other in making accurate observations on 
BO important a phenomenon ; and, although the late 
late Professor Encke said that nothing but the utmost accuracy 
in the observations can compensate for the unfavorable cir- 
cumstances of the transits as compared with that of 1769, 
yet we expect a more exact determination than any previous. 
Of the next two transits that of 1882 will be the most 
favorable one for the determination of the sun's parallax. 



♦ SiUiman'B Journal, vol. xxxvi (1869), p. 171. 
t Ibid. 70l. xxxvu, p. 411. 



186*7.] INSURAKGSy OOOD, BID AND XKDIFFXBINT. 886 



AiT- VIII.— 1. Annual ReporU of Imuranes Campania for I860. 
New York, Hartford, Boston, aad Philadelphia. 

8. Baport on th$ Oondition of th$ Sun Mutual Insurance Oompan y^ 
Albany: February, 1867. 

In the original prospectus to oar journal issuea more than seven years 
ago, we promised our readers and friends tliat we would '* fearlessly die. 
cuss every subject in which the public had an interest, and expose charla- 
tanism and fraud in whatever forms they presented themselves." In 
aooordanoe with this promise we gave that attention to insurance which 
we thought its importance claimed. "We were, however, in no hurry to 
obtrude our views on the public ; we had issued nine quarterly numbers 
before we uttered one word on the subject. In the meantime we ex- 
posed various systems of imposition, and criticised whatever seemed re- 
prehensible to us in the working of several institutions, public and private. 
We did not thus postpone the consideration of Insurance for more than 
two years because we thought it less important to the public than tiie 
other subjects which we had discussed before it, but because it required 
more investigation and* reflection. We were not the less impressed 
with the advisableness of this hesitancy from the fact that years pre- 
viously we had made a careful study of the theory of insurance, although 
we have never been connected directly or indirectly with any company^ 
in Europe or America. 

Our first article on insurance, published^in September number, 1862, 
was entitled '^Quackery of Insurance Companies.'* We had the pleasure 
of seeing this copied by the newspapers in all parts of the country ; at the 
same time we were subjected to the greatest abuse by the insurance papers 
which derived their chief means of subsistence from the very parties 
whose moduM operandi we exposed. Not content with this the latter 
had attacks on us inserted in the form of advertisements in such of the 
morning papers as they could not bribe to lend them their editorial col- 
umns for that purpose. As a specimen of these advertisements our read- 
ers will perhaps, remember one which appeared in the *^ Daily Times" of 
this city a few days after the publication of the number containing the 
article alluded to. All this, however, did us much more good than harm, 
for the more our article was read by intelligent men the better it was 
liked, although many thought that we must have been mistaken in some 
particulars. None thanked us more warmly than the officers of insur- 
ance companies that were, and still are, honestly disposed. These, one 
and all, offered us every fFicility in their power to investigate the subject, 
and expressed their regret that such an exposure had not been made years 
earlier. 

VOL. XIV.— NO. XXVIII. 12 



886 INSXTBAKOI, GOOD, BAD AND tlTOirFBSBlIT. [Maich, 

In this article we did not designate any company aa frandalent,* bnt 
this was not necessary in order to excite the ire of a large namber who, 
from tLeir writhings, showed bnt too plainly that the cap fitted them. We 
confess it sarprised ns not a little to find that among those who 
eyinoed most indignation towards us for oar " impertinence** was the 
President of the San Mntaal Marine. When we went to him, as we did 
to other nnderwriters, to seek facts and statistics for oor second article, he 
acted mnch more like a bally in an ale-honse, than like a gentleman en- 
gaged in a respectable and honest bnsiness. Nor did we shrink from saying 
so at the time. Neither his boasted millions, nor his threats, deterred na 
from giving oar impressions of himself and his company. Up to this 
time we had not concerned oorselYes in any manner about one or the oth- 
er; we knew no more about Mr. Grinnell, personally, than we did about 
the king of Ashantee, and we knew as little about " the Sun Mutual^ as wo 
did about the privy council of that despot. But feeling satisfied that 
there must be something wrong, we resolved to learn what we could and 
give the results to the pnblic. What success we had will best appear from 
an extract or two. We take the following passage from our secoDd article 
entitled " Insurance Quackery and its Organs.*' 

** While he had been waiting to see the president, a mesaenger came to 
announce that a vesMl insured by the company had been partly or wholly 
wrecked. If our memory does not fail us, the ship mentioned was the PUuUer. 
At once the president had it that she was a bed vessel ; that she was not sea- 
worthy—in short, everything was wrong with her 1 The a4>tain, too, must 
have neglected his duty. Who was he F What other vessels had he com- 
manded ? or who had reoonmiended him f &c. When our friend saw how be 
was treated he ventured to remark that he was surprised that the president of 
a company pn^esainff to have ao ktry€ a eapHal could have induced him to 
occupy his time by calling on three different occasions, and then refuse to keep 
hh word, because he did not get what he wanted cheaper than anybody else. 
' I confess/ said he, * that if I were insured by your company, I should have 
some fear in the event of the money falling due ; for I am inclined to think 
that those who would quibble and '* back out " for a matter of twenty or thirty 
dollars would be iH[>t to give some trouble in case of twenty or thirty ihonund 
dollars. If I am not right/ added he, ' then the remarks I have just heard 
in regard to the wrecked ship are somewhat inexplicable.' These may not 
have been the exact words used ; but they are substantially the same. It struck 
us, who witnessed the scene, that if one of our most disUnguished gladiators 
had been the president, and that hii * office ' had been an oyster saloon in the 
Bowery, he could hardly have made a more prompt exhibition of his fighting 
propensities. He took care to confine himself to menaces and gestures, how- 
ever, although our friend afforded him ample time to give vent to his fury be- 
fore he turned on his heel to leave, wondering whether he could believe his 
eyes or his memory, that he was really in an insurance office in Wall street, and 
not in one of those places in our back streets where it is said one is liable to \» 
knocked down any moment for attempting to express any opinion which hap- 
pens to be distasteful to the master of the establishment or its patrons. 

" After having witnessed such an exhibition as this, we were naturally cuii- 

• The only eompuy we mentioned »t all was the New York Lite, whieh we regarded then, 
aa we do now, a model. Beoanae we did ao we were aocaaed of having been bribed ; atthoogh 
wo hayo noyer reoelyed and never asked a cent for It. 



1867.1 ivtUBAiroEy oood, bad Ain> uiDxyFBBiifT. 88t 

one to know who are tlie trustees of a company whose president feels it incam- 
bent tipoD him to vindicate its honor and redeem his own word bj a demon- 
stmtion of this kind. We had only to tnm to any of ttke insnnmoe oigans in 
order to be enlightened on this point. Nor have we filled to do so ; and among 
the names which the public are to rtgard at a tower qf itrmgth^ are the follow- 
ing : Louis Lorut, Joseph Foulke, Jr., Peter Poiiier, William OoUiout, Henry 
A. Goit, Oliver State, Jr., John A. Iselin, Dxake Mills, Ernest Caylus, Ellas 
Ponvert,&c." 

In the same article we suggested to all conoeraed that '*the Moon Mu- 
tual ^' would be a much more appropriate title for the corporation re- 
ferred to than " the Sun Mutual.^' Many told us that we must be mis- 
taken; that the Sun was the oldest and soundest oompany in America, 
&c. All we chose to say in reply was that time would prove whether we 
were right or not. Just one year after (March, 18G4) we alluded to the 
condition of the same company, in another article ou Insurance, and 
added the following observations : 

**This would not be the case, we are assured, were it not that the President 
of the solar corporation is too much occupied in politics, and too anxious to be a 
prominent member of various societies to find much time for the business of 
nnderwriting. Even when at his post he is somewhat querulous and slightly 
rude. This also may have something to do with iho$e tpUa onthewn which have 
ffrown eo large latdy mat they may he teen almtmt taUh the naked eye, while all the lights 
which in connection with the eclipsing bodies alluded to, they allow us lo enjoy 
may be readily mistaken for mooniAtfie." 

It will be admitted that this was plain enough; and it could not be 
denied at the time, much less can it now, that it was true. These, how- 
ever, were not the only warnings we gave the public during the past 
five yearn, in reference to ^ the Sun Mutual ;^ yet, when a part of the 
truth came out at the beginning of the present year— when it could no 
longer be concealed— many who pretend to surpass all others in their 
knowledge of insurance were overwhelmed with astonishment. But this 
did not save the large number of dupes who had fancied themselves en- 
riched by the " scrip " of the ^* Sun Mutual.^' Most of our readers re- 
member the meetings held by those scrip-holders with the view of com- 
ing to some conclusion as to what was best to be done under the circum- 
stances. From a report of one of these meetings, given in the *^ NewTork 
Herald** of February 8, we take the following passage, which will give 
some idea of the views generally entertained of the Sun Mutual and its 
president by those who were best acquainted with both : 

" A gentleman said it struck him that the last speaker was present as a 
representative of the Bun Insurance Company and of the stockholders. This 
was a meeting of scrip-holders only, whose interests were at stake. It was 
simply proposed by the resolution of the committee to request Mr. Barnes to 
investigate the case, and no harm ought possibly to result from that. 

'* Another gentleman said that the company had stated in December, when 
they called for more capital, that they had not $230,000 but $800,000. He 
knew a person who had subscribed $250,000, on the strength of that assertion. 

'* A voice.— I subscribed $10,000 on the statement of Mr. Grinnell that 
there was $800,000 which must be used before the new stock oould be touched. 



888 iKsuBANCSy GOOD, BAD AMD nTDmruKiiT. [Marcb, 

" A seoond voloe.— I rabacribed $5,000 on similar xepresentatJoiiB. 

*' A third Toioe.— And I subecribed $26,000 in the tame way. 

** A gentleman said he was a scrip-holder and held no stock ; but he was 
nnwilling that, for the sake of getting a few dollars, the security of the San 
Company should be endangered. The fiUlnre of that institution would be peril- 
ous to the interests of the commercial men of New York. 

** A gentleman then began to speak against the resolution, but was soon 
interrupted by a cry from the middle of tbe audience, ' We don'i want any 
policy-holders here. This is a scrip-holders' meeting.' 

*' A gentleman said he was both a stockholder and a scrip-holder, and he 
was in favor of stooping the company, because he had no confidence in their 
statements. (Loud cries of *Qaesuon, question.') He believed it would be 
a great benefit to the community to haye a company like this, which had 
proved itself unworthy of confidence, wound up. He wanted to get his money 
back, and so long as he got that, he did not care whose interests were preju- 
diced. (Loud applause.)" 

Tbe phrase, now become so trite, ** this establishment does not adver- 
tise in the * Herald ' ** does not apply hero ; for that journal was peculiarly 
favored by the San at this very time, Mr. Grlnnell inserting in it daily near- 
ly a whole column until it was seen that it was no use. The matter was then 
referred to the State Superintendent of the insurance department. It does 
not appear thatMr.Barnes had ever suspected that there was anything wrong 
with the Sun Mutual ; on the contrary, he seems to have regarded it as a 
flourishing and excellent institution. It is not strange, therefore, that he 
is rather benevolently disposed towards it now ; were he otherwise, might 
not his vigilance be called into question ? We have often spoken of the 
superintendent in the language of approbation ; we have also criticised 
some of his actions, treating him in each case simply as we thought he 
deserved* In the present instance we can regard his "Examination into 
the condition of the Sun Mutual Insuranoe Oompany " only as what is 
vulgarly called a white- washing operation ; although the most he can say 
in its favor is that it may be permitted to live another while. Referring 
to the " assets," he concludes his report with the following words : " I 
hereby find them to be sufficient to justify its contlnuanoe in business in 
the city of New York as a Mutual Marine Insurance Company, toUh an 
additional ea»h capital c/Jhe hundrsd thatuand doUany 

This, after all, is not very much ; although we are assured that Mr. 
Barnes is a great friend of Mr. GrinnelPs, and that the latter does not 
thank him because he (Mr. G.) has so much to do with Albany afifairs; has 
so much influence on the politicians who occasionally meet there ; but 
whether this has had anything to do with the tender-hearted,f riendly tone of 
the report, or not, we cannot undertake to say. Be the fact as it may, the 
superintendent announces that he has made the '* examination*' *^ at the 
request of the President of the oompany, and after several conferences 
with a Committee representing a considerable proportion of the scrip- 
holders." Who would not be lenient under such circumstances ? and accord- 
ingly Mr. Barnes ia of opinion that it would be a great pity 0* a public 
calamity") to let the Sun die I At the same time his own statements, 



186T.] iKsinuKCB, oood, bad and ikdiffsbikt. 889 

' tender] J as they are made, go far to prove the contrary. Thus, among 
the items given as *' assets** by the Sun he notes the following : 

Balance of a claim against the United States Gorerament, $40,907 09 
Claim for losses, &c., against the Columbian Insurance 

Company 188,515 92 

Claims against the British Government for damages by 
privateers : ^ 

Alabama 87,841 66 

Florida 128,804 00 

Shenandoah 88,809 00 

Total $484,877 58 

ITeed we say that three-fourths of this money might almost as well 
have been entered against the real moon and citlled " assets." Bnt all the 
comment Mr. Barnes has to make on these ^'claims" is the following : "The 
superintendent would reduce the estimated value of these claims to 
$50,000** — that is, nearly to one-tenth their pretended value ; but if he 
reduced them to one-fiftieth he would be much nearer the truth. But 
assuming that Mr. Barnes is right in his estimate, does not even this show 
that the company has been guilty of false representations? It may, how- 
ever, be a pity to let the Sun die, as the superintendent says. At all 
events its dissolution would afford us no gratification. If the public con- 
tinue to confide in it, that is their own affair ; perhaps it will pursue the 
right course after this ; still we must beg leave to persist in regarding it 
as the Moon Mutual ; although one of the most experienced and accom- 
plished underwriters in New York has urged the objection to this title, 
that it is popularly supposed there is a man in the moon, whereas if there 
had been a man in the company under consideration neither Mr. Barnes 
nor anybody else would have had to beg for its life. 

Before we take leave of this branch of the subject, we will take occa- 
sion to remark that if our Superintendent had proposed as many ques- 
tions to the Sun, Metropolitan, etc., during the last four years as he has 
lately proposed in one "blank form'* to our Life companies, he might 
not have had as intricate and " painful ** an examination to make now, as 
that alluded to above. To us it seems very absurd to overwhelm com- 
panies like the New York Life, Equitable, Knickerbocker, New Ebgland 
Mutual, Connecticut Mutual, etc., with interrogatories, while the rotten 
concerns are allowed to impose on the publio from year to year. Be it 
remembered that those questions are not only needlessly offensive in many 
instances, but involve the company who have to answer them in consid- 
erable expense. 

There is not one of the other companies whioh are in a predicament 
somewhat similar to that of the Sun whioh we did not warn the publio 
against several years ago, and on different occasions since. It is now, 
we believe, more than four years since the President of the Metropolitan 
(Fire and Marine) wrote us a long letter informing us how sadly ignorant 



390 iNBinuHeBy good, bad and ixomuaan. [Man^ 

we were of Insuranoe matters. It was impossible a mere editor oonld be 
otherwise, he told ns, as we had served no appreoUceship to the bosinesa. 
Bat what placed oar ignorance beyond donbt in his mind was, that we 
regarded the Mercantile ICntnal (Marine) and the Seoarity O^ire and 
Marine) as mnch safer companies than the Metropolitan. Notwithstand- 
ing oar atter lack of iusarance knowledge, howevery the gentleman 
allnded to favored as with a portion of his patronage, assonng ns that it 
would be greatly increased nnder certain conditions ; bnt as we still 
failed to see that the Metropolitan was eqaal — ^mach lees snperior — to 
either of the other companies mentioned, we were ^ven np as hopelessly 
stnpid and the patronage was withdrawn. Yet time has proved qnite as 
clearly, as in the case of the San that we were right, and that if those 
who charged as with ignorance were not ignorant or stapid themselves, 
they were gnilty of a more reprehensible faalt^that of knowingly and 
wilfally deceiving the public. 

One reason why Life Insarance is a much more successful bosinees 
than either Fire or Marine Insurance is, that, in general, those engaged in 
the former are more intelligent than those engaged in the latter. It is 
trae that none understand their business bettor than the officers of the 
Mercantile Mutual, the Security, the Washington, the j£tna ot Hartford^and 
some two or three other companies.^ These wonld be regarded anywhere 
gentlemen as well as men of intelligence; and, accordingly, whatever losses 
they may sustain,they will at least retain sufficient to deal fairly with their 
patrons. The Security has always been more intelligently managed than 
its namesake of the Life department, and it haabeen more saocessfdl in 
proportion ; and none who know its new Secretary and President need be 
informe^Uhat it was never better managed, even nnder the auspices of 
the jastly lamented and excellent Mr. Walker, than it is now. If the 
Wai^ington Fire (not Marine) be compared with the Washington Life a 
similar admission must be made in £ftvor of the former, who have saffioient 
proof that knowledge is power, and that it is favorable to good taste, in 
the fact that it needs no drygoods or grocery merchanto to recommend 
it to the pablic, but has abundant assets to meet its liabilities. 

Still greater will be the contrast if we compare either the Meroantile 
Mutual or the Hartford ^tna to the Guardian Life, although the latter 
boaste a ''doctor" among its officers and several politicians among its direct- 
ors. Several other instances could be added in which the preponderance in 
intelligence, brains, and honesty, isdecidedly in &vor of the fire and marine 

• Hm Bapt bai done quite well during the year, Ita gain baring ezoeeded Ita kmrn hj 
S5Sy418. Thua Mr. Reese ta\]Y TinUicates his character aa a shrewd underwriter, tor it must be 
remembcrad thai ha haa nerer had tha adTaataga ef a huge caidtaL Bat one who paja 
$186,773 leasee in one year without whhitng meat be entitled to credit. 

The Putnam of Hartford haa alao (hmlshed aatlaftetory eTidaace thai it ia fartdUgeati^ and 
Judloioua^ managed. After ha?iDg paid quite lU ahara of loasca fbr USS ia proportlen to iU 
$600,000 cash capital, we aee it bad a surpha of more than half a mlllioa to commence the new 
year with. 



1867.] INSURANOXy OOOD, BAD AMD INDITrCRBNT. 891 

brandhes. All are bat exoeptions, however; for one fire or marine aom- 
panj that can lay claim to Uiis character, there are at least ten whose 
officers are mnch better qualified for the grocery or provision basiness than 
for the profession of underwriting. The first two companies that occur to us 
to illustrate this are the New England Mutual Life and the New England 
Fire; but who need ask a more striking contrast? That this does not 
occur because the principal office of one Is at the Modem Athens, the 
capital of New England, whereas that of the other is at the small inland 
town of Hartford, is easily proved, since there are no better companies 
anywhere, either fire or life, than there are at this modest, unpretending 
little pUce — a £Eust which we will take occasion to illustrate by statistics 
before we close. We do not suppose that the officers of the New Eng- 
land Fire, more than those of the New England Mutual Life, are disposed 
to cheat those who deal with them. What constitutes the chief differ- 
ence between them )s that the latter have about ten times as much knowl- 
edge, general and particular, as the former. It seems to be pretty 
generally understood that the ratio of integrity between the two 
is nearly, if not quite, the same as that of the knowledge. This, 
however, we cannot vouch for further than to say that it is highly 
probable, according to the law of cause and'*effect. which appertains 
in such cases. Be this as it may, we thank the officers of the 
New England Fire, in passing, for having fulfilled one of our pre* 
dictions made nearly five years ago; for, in our first article on 
'* Insurance Quackery,^* we made the following observation: **In 
time they (the quacks) will undertake to insure anything ; they will 
revive speculations still more ruinous and ludicrous than those of the 
South Sea bubbles, when the companies of our English cousins used to 
undertake to insure female virtue, engaging to pay a handsome sum in 
case the chastity of the insured lady should suffer any serious detriment. 
Among the different kinds of insurance which we mentioned on the au- 
thority of Francis— author of ^* Annals, Anecdotes, and Legends: a 
Ohronicle of Life Insurance'^— was an ^ Insurance office for horses dying 
natural deaths, stolen or disabled, Orown Tavern, Smithfield,*' and which 
was advertised as follows : 

'< Yoa that keep hones to praerve yonr Mae 
And ]Mul8 to pleaae year wives Mid miBtreBses, 
Insure their lives: and if they die we'll make 
FuU satlsfiMtioa, or be botmd to break." 

It will be seen from this that, far from being a new idea, the Horse 
Insurance Company, established by the functionaries of the New England 
Life, may boast of a prototype which existed, though only for a short 
ttme, about two hundred years ago. The new institution may prove en- 
tirely successful, however, for about half the intelligence necessary to in- 
sure house* and other kinds of property is sufficient to insure horses ; 
besides, there are a great many who would rather lose the insurance on a 



392 IN8URANGS, OOOD, BAD AND IKDIFFBBBMT, [Marcb, 

horse than go to law ahont it, for the reason that the lawyers might ooat 
them more than the original price of the animal. 

Bat leaving horses and donkejs ont of the question, we need not have 
gone bejond Hartford for a complete illustration of onr theory. It the 
Security Fire and Marine of New York is vastly superior to the Security 
Life of the same city, the Phoenix Mutual Life of Hartford is quite as 
much superior to the Phoenix Fire of the same city, and for the same 
reason. We might present many other contrasts, but we think we have 
presented sufficient to justify us in the opinion that, after all, want of 
intelligence and of ability has more to do with the failure of so many of 
our fire and marine companies than any unusual amount of fires or other 
disasters. We know that many wUl dissent from this at first sight, but a 
little reflection will convince them that they ought to pause before 
•doing so. 

Be it remembered that at worst only some of the houses and vessels 
that are insured will even be destroyed or injured in the manner provided 
against. According to M. Ampere, of the French Academy, not 
more than nine per cent., on an average, render it necessary for the In. 
snrance Companies to pay.* But let us suppose that this eminent 
•mathematician is wrong ; that twenty, twenty -five, nay, fifty per cent., ren- 
der the companies liable ; still, half would be safe. But what man or 
woman will escape death ? Is there a single policy issued by a life com- 
pany which, if the conditions of it are only fulfilled by the party holding 
it, will not, sooner or later, oblige the company to pay a large sum? 
Thus, suppose that every house in New York and every ship in our har- 
bor are insured ; let us suppose, also, that the life of every owner is 
insured. Even if a general conflagration took place some or both of the 
houses and ships would be saved ; whereas there is not a single one of 
their owners, let him be rich or poor, yonng or old, to whom death is 
not certain, and for whom, accordingly, the insurance company will not 
have to pay. Whence, then, all this whining on the part of Fire compa- 
nies i Why not look around and see that among Fire companies, at home 
as well as abroad, are some of the wealthiest corporations in the world ? 
How did these get their riches? Do not the'.r riches increase from year to 
year ? But let us ask another question or two. How is it that, with two 
or three exceptions, it is only the third, fourth, and fifth-rate companies 
that make an outcry about their losses, and ask, with trembling voice, 
what is to happen next ? There is not one of those that do so who 
would not be miserable at heart nnder any circumstances. If the life 
underwriters meet in convention, it is not to whine; but rather to laugh 
at some of the mountebanks which creep in amongst them, as amongst 

o See his Oonndiration^ tur la ih^orie mathimatiq duieu, p. 27. See also 
Da Montmort's JEImoi d'anafym mtr Ua jeux de htuard, p. 128. 



186T.] IKSUSANGB, GOOD, BAD AKB INDIfFSRSNT. 893 

othov; Femembering that the wisest kings and emperors were never so 
profoundly occapied with state affairs, bat thej coald amuse themselves 
for an honr or so with the speeches of the oonrt fool. 

It is now time that we shoald note some particolars, judging the tree 
by its fmit. The first annual report that has reached us this year, as on 
former occasions, is that of the New England Mutual Life ; and, as 
usual, it is a thoughtful, cheerful, and encouraging document. The first ' 
information we receive from it is that **The year Just closed presents as 
much greater increase of business than any of its predecessors, both 
in the number of policies issued and in the amounts thereby insured.^' 
Equally characteristic and interesting is the following : 

** The whole number of policies issuod and paid for from November 80, 1868, 
to November 30, 1868, is 8,798, which is in excess of the number issued dur- 
ing the preceding eight years. The number issued in 1866 is nearly double 
that of the preceding year, and is greater than the combined number of 1864 
and 1865. The amount of claims paid upon one hundred and six policies, 
during the year, is $814,400, while in 1865 the amount paid was $324,028 
upon one hmidred and thirteen policies. The number of policies outstanding 
on the books of the company is 12,296, and the amount insured $38,270,1^^0. 
The accumulation for the year ending November 80, 1866, after paying claims 
and expenses and providing for claims not yet due, is $1,145,889.78. The net 
assets at this date are $4,758,875.91." ^ 

Many of our life underwriters would do well to read the whole report 
of the New England Mutual, for it contains many suggestions which would 
be useful to them if they only knew how to profit by them. Thus, for ex- 
ample, what will the gentlemen of the United States Life, the North 
America, the Guardian, and the Washington say to the following? — 

"The growth of life insurance in this country has brought with it some 
evils which are to be deplored. One is a murepresmlation by which innocent 
persons are lured into companies through the medium of glaring aUUemenU of 
iEirge dividends, etc., without having given the subject that attention which 
its importance demands. Applicants have been maoe to believe, by plausible 
statements of parties whose sole aim is to obtain a commission, that la an ex- 
ceedingly short space of time no further premium would be required, and con- 
sequently their policies would be self-sustaining." p. 15. 

We think the Mutual Life, too, would do well to take the hint ; if it 
will not, however, the public ought to take it on its part; for, notwith- 
standing the adage to the contrary, figures do lie most egregiously some- 
times. Besides, we have had some recent illustrations of tlie fact that it 
is not those who boast most either of their millions of assets or their 
antiquity that have most vitality. Neither the Equitable, the New York, 
the Knickerbocker, nor the Manhattan, claims any miraculous power for 
its policies, or pretends that there ought to be no other company but itself. 
We believe that no officer belonging to any of the four finds it necessary 
to have himself proclaimed as the President, Vice-President, or Secretary, 
of any pious body for the purpose of showing that the widow and the 
orphan may rely upon him at the critical moment But if we come to 



894 XV8URAK0I, GOOD, BAD AMD IKDUTIBIIIT. [Mardi, 

examine the number of tnito iostitnted a^iunst the fire companies men- 
tioned for non-payment of widows* and orphans* claims we shall, perbapsi 
be surprised at the difference between sending the Bible to the heathen aiS 
in Africa or Thibet and doing one's duty nearer home^ 

As we have given some illustrations of this on former occasions it 
will be sufficient to show now that the four companies allnded to do not 
seem to thrive anything the worse for paying all Just claims without any 
suit. Thus the Equitable has accumukted a fund of over three millions in 
seven years, increasing its annual income from year to year to such aa 
extent that it is now over $3,000,000. Nearly half of this was added during 
1866, when it insured by ncF policies thirty-two millions ($82,000,000). 
Still larger is the pile of the New York, though no company in Europe or 
America, of its age, has been more successful than the Equitable. The 
assets of the New York are now over seven millions ($7,009,092). This, 
it will be admitted is a handsome remainder after paying nearly half a 
million ($480,197.88) for losses by death during the year. Add to these 
items its 7,296 new policies, insuring $22,784,808, and its scrip dividend 
of fifty per cent and what is the clear inference ? 

Yet neither company casts the Enickerbocleer into the shade. The 
latter issued 5,450 policies in 1866, insuring thereby $17,000,000. Tiiis 
exibits an increase over the former year of 2,918, the increase in amount 
insured being $9,621,550. Only two or three years ago the total awets of 
the Knickerbocker were less than half a million ; they are now more than 
a million and a half. It is now insuring members of societies at a reduced 
rate ; also army and navy officers without extra premium, whUe in either 
case the insured may travel and reside in any civilized part of the country 
without additional charge. It is hardly to be wondered at then that 
it is now averaging 40 policies a day, having issued 1^500 from the first 
of January last to the close of February. 

The record of the Manhattan is not quite so brilliant; at the same 
time, if exhibits remarkable progress. Had its present officers had the 
management of it from the beginning, even the companies just retired 
could hardly have surpassed it. A fact or two which we are about to 
state would go far to prove this by themselves ; during the past year it 
issued 8,717 policies, insuring $18,000,450 and receiving in cash $1,7I0,000| 
thus adding to its assets $100,000. 

Each of these companies recognizes the principle that knowledge is 
power; although all do not do so alike, or to the same extent. Until 
lately the Manhattan seemed to have some doubts on the subject, but 
within the last year all scepticism has ceased; hence tlie increase in 
assets, income, etc., indicated above. In short there is not one of our 
underwriters who has improved more than Mr. Wemple. It would do 
one good to see the old gentlemen serving the junior members of the in- 
stitution at the lunch table, aa we saw him once. Again and again did he 



1861.] IK8ITB1HC1, OOOD, BAB AVD XKDimBBllT. 895 

xfM from the table, takiiig a eop of ooffee to one, a limb of a turkey to 
another, or a piece of lobster to another, etc We mention this little in- 
cident partly beoanse it seemed to ns highly interesting in itself^ and 
partly beoanse it is characteristic of the man ; and it has been the more 
deeply impressed on onr mind by another incident brought to^oQr atten- 
tion on the same occasion. Mr. Wemple related to ns that he was stmck 
with the intelligent and respectable appearance of a lady who called at the 
office to sell a book. After purchasing a copy he asked whether she would 
not like to interest herself in life insnraace. She replied regretfully that 
her hnsband had long been most anxious to have hblife insured, but that 
she persistently prevented him, having a vague notion that it might 
cause his death. He died, without being insured, about a year ago, 
leaving her two children, and thus it was that she was obliged to peddle 
books for a scanty support, whereas, had she encouraged, instead of pre. 
venting, him she m'ght have been worth $10,000 to-day. 

None but an educated person can obtain even a clerkship in the office 
of the New York Life. In this respect, as well as in many others, Mr. 
Franklin acts on the precepts of the great American philosopher, his 
namesake. Thus, for example, one of the assistant secretaries is Ool* 
Staar, a graduate of Oxford University, and the author of an interesting 
book on Cuba. Then the talent and ability of the Equitable are familiar 
to alL One officer had long been the President of a State Senate; his 
colleague is quite a young man ; but a veteran as an underwriter. He is 
thoroughly educated, and is characterised by an off-handed, graceful 
generosity, worthy of the ancient ducal house of which he is a descend- 
ant. In order to illustrate the estimation in which this company holds 
knowledge and ability, it is sufficient to say that it has seeur^ the 
services, as its Secretary, of (he head of one of the most eminent law firms 
in New York, namely, James W. Alexander, formerly of the firm of Alex- 
ander & Green, Wall streets. 

Beasons equally satis&otory can be shown for the success of the 
Knickerbocker. Even those who wonld become its agents must be edu- 
cated men. Wherever Mr. Lyman meets a man of talent who understands 
insurance he spares no expense to secure, at least, as much of his services 
as he needs. Thus, he has recently added to his well-trained corps Dr. H. 
Lassing, who appropriately occupies the position of Manager of Agencies 
at the company's principal office; and the Actuary of the company is the 
Hon. Elizur Wright, late Insurance Commissioner of Massachusetts. 

We have already remarked that neither in New York nor any other 
place are there better Life Oompanies than in Hartford. The ^tna 
possesses all the strength and stability of its Fire namesake ; and those 
who know the hitter would require no more substantial guarantee. The 
number of policies issued by the ifitna Life in 1866 exceeds 14,000 ; the 
amount of cash received during the same period was $3,556,886.70. 



896 iKstmiNOB, eooD, bad and inditfsbskt. [March, 

This enables it to add nearly two millions and a half to its assets, which 
amount now to the handsome pile of $4,401,888.80. What is, perhaps, 
better than all, the cash is in jndioions, ikithM hands. 

One of the oldest Life Oompanies in the conntrj is the Oonnecticnt 
Mntnal, whose principal office is in the same dtj ; nor has any company 
gained strength or inspired confidence more steadily as its experience 
increased. Otherwise its accumnlated assets wonld not now have 
amounted to $18,000,000, nor wonld it have secored an annual income of 
$6,500,000. 

We confess we should much rather have this and the prestige which 
accompanies it than the boasted twenty millions of the Mutual Life of 
New York, together with its ostentatious marble palace,&c Most assuredly 
we would prefer to have a policy for $10,000 from Mr. Phelps than from 
Mr. Winston ; although we have never had the pleasure of seein^the for- 
mer gentleman ; whereas we see the latter almost daily, and have more 
than once heard him deliver a very loud speech in favor of sending Bibles 
and tracts to the heathen. 

We may here remark, that we have more than once seen the Mutual 
Benefit also, compared to the Oonnecticnt Mutual ; but we are not prepared 
at the present moment to form any opinion of the justice or injustice of the 
comparison. While awaiting the facts and figures suffice it to say that 
the Vice-President of the Mutual Benefit has the reputation of being 
nearly as pious and ** prayerful" as Mr. Winston. It may be as good a 
company as the Odnnecticut (for we have considerable confidence in the 
intelligence and good sense of Mr. Grover) ; but we are convinced that it 
is not better. 

But there are yet to be mentioned one or two Hartford companies 
whose policies are as sure, when fully due, as bank checks. This is emi- 
nently true of the PhoBuiz Mutual, which has recently adopted several 
new rules that embrace all the best features in life insurance* The 
directors have declared every policy non-forfeiting; they also give the 
holders of endowment policies peculiar advantages. That they can 
afford to do so may be seen from the fact that the assets of the company 
now amount to a million and a half, its income for the past year having 
approximated pretty closely to a million ($848,607.71). We have no 
recent statistics before us which would enable us to form an opinion of 
the present condition of the Traveller's, but we have good reason to 
believe that it still continues to serve both ! the public and itself quite as 
much as any company of its age. 

Hero an interesting question occurs — ^How is it that there are so many 
flourishing Life companies in Hartford while there is scarcely one in 
Philadelphia f Is it not because those who undertake the business in the 
former city are qualified for it, while those who undertake it in the latter 



186T.] IK8UBAKCI, OOODf BAD AND INDirrSBIKF. 897 

are not? We do not institute the oomparison for tlie purpose of depre- 
ciating the ** Quaker Oity/' which in many respects deserves to be ranked 
with the most enlightened cities in the world. We only speak of its un- 
derwriters ; that these are inferior in intelligence to those of Hartford is 
beyond dispute. First, their education is vastly inferior ; still more in- 
ferior is their knowlege of insurance. 

Perhaps they need not feel hurt at this, however, as with one or two 
exceptions, the underwriters of the Modem Athens are no better than 
they. We frankly admit that if there is a single first-class underwriter 
in Boston, either Life or Fire, always excepting those belonging to the 
New England Mutual Life, we are not aware of the fact. Not but 
educated men abound in Boston ; there is no lack of such ; the diffi- 
culty is that they happen to prefer other pursuits. 

The same is the case in Philadelphia; the fraternity has got 
such a dubious name — ^there are so many ex-grocers and ex-pro- 
vision dealers amongst them, that the right class keep aloof. Hence 
it is that so many of the Quaker Oity companies bring ruin on 
themselves and others. In Hartford, upon the other hand, insurance is 
regarded as a profession and one of the most honorable ; accordingly 
men of the highest educ ition, talent and political and social influence en- 
gage in it We may be permitted to express our regret, in passing, that 
one member of the fraternity is about to withdraw for the purpose of en- 
gaging in a more active mode of life — we mean the accomplished Vice- 
President of the Phoenix Mutual Life — a gentleman whose agreeable 
manners and amiable disposition have endeared him, not only to his 
colleagues, but to a wide circle of friends. 

Notwithstanding the remarkable progress made in Insurance, we repeat 
that the public cannot be too earnestly cautioned against having too much 
confidence in a certain class of new companies. By this we mean no reflec- 
tion on Hartford companies more than others ; indeed, thefe are two of 
the new Hartford companies which we regard as very likely to succeed ; we 
mean the Oonnecticut Oeneral and the Oontinental ; although we possess 
no statistics which would enable us to form any definite opinion of either. 
If the former will only emulate the course of the Oonnecticut Mutual it 
will not be long before it takes rank among our first companies. 

Speaking of the Oontinental reminds us that we have a new institution 
of the same name in New York, one, too, which is no mere experiment, 
but whose success is not doubted by any intelligent person who knows 
its officers ; not to mention its directors, several of whom are among our 
most prominent merchants, and shrewdest business men. Everybody in 
New York knows our late assistant-postmaster, Mr. J. P. Rogers,the gentle- 
man who really performed the duties of New York post-master for years, 
and who gave more universal satisfaction than any one who had previously 
occupied that important and onerous position. Some time ago Mr. 



898 INSURAKCI, QOOD, BAD AXD INOXmBHIT!. [tfarcfa| 

Bc^gere retired from the PosU^ffioe and aided in establishing the present 
oompany, of which, with peooliar fitness, he is now the Secretary. It 
affords us pleasure to add that he already exhibits an encouraging 
record. Thus, the company issued its first policy on the 10th of May 
last ; and up to the close of last month it issued 1,882, insuring the 
handsome total of $5,241,400— its receipts during the same brief period 
amounting to $810,044^ We have not had the pleasure of knowing Mr. 
Justus Lawrence, the President of the Continental, personslly, but those 
for whose opinion we have the highest respect rank him in the first class 
of Life underwriters. His experience has been ample ; haying been con- 
nected for many years with the Manhattan; and it is he who, in his capac- 
ity of Vice-President, has been instrumental in giving the North Amer- 
ica whatever influence it possesses among the intelligent portion of the 
public. 

The Globe Mutual Life of New York continues to exhibit remarkable 
progress. It has now issued many more policies, and done a much larger 
business, than one of the most successful companies in the world had at 
the same age — we mean the Equitable. Is not its prospect, then, a bril- 
liant one if it will only equal that sterling institution five years hence f 
In this case, be it remembered, it would have an income of two millions, 
and a surplus fund of three millions. Already its assets amount to nearly 
a million ($789,248.62) after having paid losses for the year to the amount 
of $94,888.80. 

We fear the Universal, which conunenced operations about the same 
time does not do so well with its two vice-presidents; although we be- 
lieve it no longer insures people laboring under consumption, inflammation 
of the brain, and those various other maladies agiunst which it was ong^- 
nally intended to afford protection. Its distinguished officers find that after 
all Winston*s theories of probabilities are slightly defective, we believe they 
have discovered that those of Freeman and Bloss of the Globe are much 
safer and more philosophical in the long run. Accordingly only "first- 
class healthy lives-* will be insured by the Universal in future; that 
is, it has ceased to be Universal I 

Now, if we could only make so free aa to give the learned and 
accomplished underwriters who conduct it a word of advice, we would tell 
them that the best thing they could do would be to amalgamate with the 
gentlemen of the National Life. This would give them control of 
handsome assets at once; nearly, if not quite, $208,000; nor would 
either Mr. Jones, or Mr. Halsey, aek them to return to their old plan of 
insuring patients in the last stage of disease ; nay, they might proclaim 
in as large .type as they wished, that " none but persons sound in wind 
and limb need apply." But we see that Mr. Raymond, of the '* Daily 
Times,** is one of the directors of the National; and he is rather shrewd 
and wide awake to be caught with "Mutual** chaff. 



1867.] XDVOATiov. 899 



NOTICES AND CRITICISMS. 

XDUOATIOH. 

Studiet in EngUih; or, OlimpsM of the Inner Life ef our Lan^fuage. 
By K. 80HBLB DK VssB, LL. D., ProfeBsor of Modem Langnages in 
the University of VirgiQio. 12mo., pp. 806. New York: Charles 
Scribner k Co. 1867. 

We have taken np this volnme with a disposition to do fall Justice to 
its merits ; for the conrtestes which we experienced daring a tonr in the 
Sonth, while visiting its principal . edacational institntions, strongly pre- 
possessed ns in favor of the Soathem professors as a body. We had the 
pleasure of meeting amongst them men of high attainments and onltnre 
from almost every country in Europe, as well as from New England and 
our Middle States; although n^ne impressed us more favorably either as 
educators or gentlemen than native Southerners. Of no part of the 
South have we more agreeable reminiscences than of Old Virginia; we 
regret, therefore, that we cannot speak of Professor de Yere's book in the 
language of approbation. It has so much disappointed us that even after 
we had the trouble of carefully examining it we would have laid it aside 
rather than make unpleasant criticisms, but the interest which we take 
in education precludes us from conniving at what is calculated to retard 
its progress so far as it exercises any influence. 

Our author is much too flippant— too ready to deny the existence of 
certain things for no better reason than that he has not extended his 
researches suflSciently far to become acquainted with them. Because he 
has examined about a dozen of the English poets from Chaucer to Mil- 
ton and about as many more English prose writers, he regards himself 
as competent to decide ex cathedra^ not only on the characteristics of what 
he calls the Anglo-Saxon, but also on those of about a score of other lan- 
guages, ancient and modern. It is true that he may have examined 
works in each of these, too, but we do not see the least evidence of the 
fact ; we think that if he had he would have been much more care- 
ful in his statements, and done more credit to himself as a public 
instructor; that his style would not have been so bombastic as it is; in a 
word, we think he would have written the language which he praises so 
highly much more grammatically tlian he does. 

13 respectable English author speaks of the English language as ^*the 
Anglo-Saxon," but several have condemned the habit of doing so on the 
part of a certain class, as the result of a vulgar, clannish spirit Johnson, 
Addison, Hume, Clarendon, Burke, Smollet, Goldsmith, Coleridge, and 
Macaulay, speak of our language as ^ the English,** not the Anglo-Saxon. 
And have not our own greatest thinkers, whether authors or orators, 
pursued the same course ? Surely our language was as much Anglo- 



400 XDUGATIOK. [March, 

Saxon ia the time of Franklio, Henry, Oalhoan, Olaj, and Webster, 
as it is now; bat all those distingalshed men were content to call 
it English. Even the most ignorant of the people of England do not 
consider themselves Anglo-S^azons, bat Englishmen ; and if thej are not 
Anglo-Saxons, sarely still less are we who are the most heterogeneoos of 
all nations, 'We verj properly call oarselves Americans ; then if we most 
change the title of onr language, let as call it the American. There woald 
be some sense in this, bat there is really no sense, bat a good deal of 
puerility, in calling it Anglo-Saxon. 

This, however, is one of the smallest faults of Professor De Yere. 
We mention it first, only because it gives an idea of the extent, or rather 
want of extent, of our aathor^s information. Boys at school may be ex- 
cused for indulging in exaggerated praise of everything they happen to 
like. This is a characteristic of youth, but it is one which it is the duty of 
the Professor to check as much as possible. We may ask, does our 
author do so when he tells us in the very first sentence of his book that 
*' our great Rnf\ noble language has yet spread farthest over the globe and 
now rules the world without a rival,'^ In proof of this we are informed that 
''more than fifty millions speak it, as their native and only tongue.^' If 
the number of millions who speak it is to be regarded as a criterion of 
its excellence, what shall we say of the Chinese, which, according to th^ 
most recent estimates, is spoken by three hundred and ninety millions 
(890,000,000). 

We have the same sort of information on every subject. The Pro. 
fessor tells us, among other things that will be new to most of our readers 
that '* our Anglo-Saxon forefathers had as artiitie a fabric of cases for 
tlieir nouns as Greek grammarian ever recorded ^ (p. 172). But only a 
few lines farther down in the same page the following observation occurs . 
''It seems unfortunate enough that we should in our day, and in a living, 
Actively thriving idiom, yet resort to the quaint artyUee and the almoit 
ehildieh language of the aneientt^ who knew no grammar,^* It is only 
modems like Professor De Yere who know grammar. This we are re- 
minded of not once, but several times ; but one instance more will be 
sufficient. We are gravely informed, at page 6S, that '* the Greeks knew 
no grammar at all prior to the Alexandrian age." 

After some other statements of a similar character, our author asks 
the very logical question : " How, then, could our poor, ignorant Saxons 
have one of their own ?" It is almost superfluous to remind anyone ac- 
quainted with the classic languages that there were Greek grammarians 
as early as the time of Eesiod, not to mention that of Homer. No scholar 
who has ever read the Homeric poems has any doubt as to the gram- 
matical knowledge of the author.* Beck tells us that the Greeks, instead 

•Vide Schdll. lit. Gr.; also Koch's Comment, de Bel Critic® Epochla, &c. 



186T.] EDUGATIOK. 401 

of paying no attention to grammar, ^'made the study of tlie national lan- 
guage as the main scope of literary exertion/** Esohenborg, another 
learned German philologist remarks that '* in the system of mental train- 
ing, or education, ans qf ihe Jlrat parts toas grammar. Although," he 
adds, *' this had reference solely to their native tongue, it was as yet a 
study comprehending much more than is novr nsnally understood. Ths 
art 0/ speaking and writing wrrecUy^ which was made a primary thing in 
the Greek system, wtatermod TpaniiaTLorixn, and the teaoherrpa^/ianorvf.f" 

We Ulve evidence of the same fact in the writings of both Plato^ 
and Aristotle.§ Has not the latter deduced his celebrated Laws from the 
Homeric poems ? Then, on the part of the Romans, who, according to our 
author, were equally ignorant of grammar, we have the testimony ot 
Quintilian, passim. There is no subject on which that excellent author is 
more explicit and emphatic than on the utility of grammar.| 

From the fact that Prof. De Yere speaks so confidently of the gram- 
matical ignorance of the ancients it might be inferred that his own language 
is a model of grammatical accuracy ; but it is so much the reverse that we 
hope that when he finds such expressions in the compositions of his stu- 
dents, as he frequently uses, he does not hesitate to expunge them. In 
his very first page he has the following sentence after one of those quo- 
tations from the poets which he has always at hand to settle disputed 
points : '* The prophecy has come tnie; and- whenever on this wide earth 
men may meet in the mer^ant^s hnsy marts, or on the prairies and pampas 
of America, amid the nomadic tribes of Asia, or in the mysterious te^rt 
of the land of Mam, ice-bound in polar regions, or becalmed under the 
tropics— everywhere they may bear words familiar to their ear and dear 
to their heart." 

Our author charges the classic Greeks and Romans with using 
'childish language ;* but what sort of language is this? We know many 
children who can speak much more lucidly and more grammatically. 
Not one member of the sentence we have quoted is correct. It is bad 
" Anglo-Saxon " to say " the prophecy has come true." Are there any 
other *' marts *' than "merchants*?" Are there lawyer's marts, physician's 
marts, or clergymen's marts ? As well say " a soldier's cannon." Passing 
over "the mysterious heart of the land of Ham " in the same sentence, we 
come to inquire, who are the favored people that " may hear everywhere 

^ Comment, de Uteris et auotoribus Gfbbc atque Latin. 

t ArchflBology of Greek Literature ; Part lY , pi 888. 

X See dialogue between Socrates, Philebus and Protarchus. Plato's Works, 
▼ol. iv., p. 20. 

§ '* But purity in speaking our language/' says the Stagirite, '*l8 the foun^ 
datlon of all style, &c. Aristotle's Rhehric, vol. Ui., chap. iv. 

II Primus in eo, qui legend! scribendique adeptus erit facultatem, gramma> 
ttcis, est locus. Nee refert, de Grooo ant de Litino loquar ; quanquam GrBdoen^ 
esse priorem placet. lib. L, c. iv. See also lib. IX. 1, 4 ; X., 1, 52, 54, &c.. 

VOL. XIV. — ^NO. XXVIII. 13 



408 XDVCATioK. pfarcb, 

words familiar to their ear and dear to their hearts f^ The answer ia 
**inen.^ If there be no men but those who speak the Anglo-Saxon, then this 
part of the sentence is intelligible ; otherwise we confess it passes onr com- 
prehension. Page 28 happens to open to ns, and we find in it snoh gram- 
mar as, ^'and.^vm th&re into Wales, dec." Taming over three or fonr 
pages more we read as follows: **The King and his followers, the 
courts of justice, the haughty barons and the insolent soldiers— ^A^ all 
spoke Latin-French^ (p. 88), Elsewhere onr author speaks o^the dis- 
semination of training (p. 46), as if training were a thing one could sow 
liemino) like seed (iemen). In our own country the '* almost universal 
tndning'* thus disseminated is producing some wonderful results. 
"Here,** says our author, ^^&i>en the mauet have learned to understand, 
or at Uoit imtinetiMly tcfuly the meaning of words like extempore^ Hne 
fiianun^ %iatui in quo^ v%eever9a^ &c., dec" (p. 46). 

It must be admitted that *' masses" who "feel the meaning" of Latin 
words by instinct are very clever ; their instinct must be nearly as fully de- 
veloped as their reason. Be this Us it may, we would suggest to our author 
fthat he would do well to revise his " Studies in English" before another 
edition is called for; but we think he would do better if he got some discreet 
fHend to aid him. He must not think that he awakens any prejudice in 
us by praising the '* Anglo-Saxon" language; it is our mother-tongue as 
well AS his, though we call it a different name. We yield to none in our 
admiration of its many good qualities ; but this is no reason why we 
should declare it supwior to all other dialects ancient and modem, and 
think ^^it would eertainly be the heetJUtedftr unitenal adoption^** *^were 
it not obscured by its whifmieaUy antiquated crthography" (p. 6Y). 

A Pictorial Hietory of the United Stntee^ with ftotieee of other portione 
nef America^ North and South. By S. G. Goodbioh, author of *^ Peter 
Parley's Tales." HSmo., pp. 516. Philadelphia : £• H. BuUer & Co., 
1867.. 

No school history has more agreeably surprised us than this, although 
we have examined a pretty large number on both sides of the Atlan^ 
within the last twenty years. The author has not merely managed to 
compress into it an incredible amount of information ; he has omitted 
no important incident or £ftct which transpired in this country from the 
landing of Columbus to the beginning of the present year. The narratives 
of events and the comments upon them; the descriptions of particnlar 
scenes and memorable places, and the personal sketches of those who 
have in any manner, directly or indirectly, distinguished themselves ia 
connection with the New World,. are all necessarily brief ; but so graphic 
and lucid as to present no difficulty to the young studenl while imprening 
him with a lively, enlightened interest in the story of his country— a result 
is greatly facilitated by the pictorial illustrations, which include por- 



186T.] KDUCATIOH. 408 

traits of all historical personages from Ohristopher Oolumbas to Presi- 
dent Johnson, together with maps, battle scenes, etc., etc. 

We liaye narratiyes of all onr wars in this edition, indading onr last 
— Jnst sufficient particulars being given to indncethe intelligent reader to 
extend his researches ; for it will bo nsed as a hand-book in the family 
library as well as a text-book in schools and academies. It is rendered 
all the more worthy of this general appreciation from the decidedly libe- 
ral, cosmopolitan spirit which eyerywhere pervades it* Far from 
pandering to the pnjndices of any sect^ party, or clique, its tendency is 
to show that we shonld all be tolerant of each other's opinions, and 
that, if we act differently, we shall sooner or later render onrselves odions 
or ridicolons. In illustration of this characteristic of the work we refer to 
the account, in Chapter LI, on '^Religious Persecution in New England.'* 
There is no enlightened New Englander who would not blush for his 
fanatical ancestors on reading this. It reminds us that the Puritans 
learned no lesson of tolerance or humsnity from their own experience in 
having been forced by persecution to abandon their country forever and 
seek new homes beyond the Atlantic, in a place that was literally a 
wilderness ; but no sooner found themselves settled in America than they 
began to practise a still more absurd and cruel persecution themselves* 
At the head of this chapter is a cut, which ludicrously enough represents 
a Quaker trial ; and we are told in the text that " the penalty of bringing 
a Quaker into the province was one hundred pounds sterling, and the 
Quaker himself was to reeHw twenty laihei^ and be sentenced to hard 
labor." 

This, it will be admitted, was rather rough treatment ; but we quote 
another remark or two : ^^ Still worse than even this afterward happened . 
In 1C57 it was decreed that Quakers coming into the province ihould 
haoe their tongtue horedteith a hot iron and be banished." (p. 116.) It 
was not in Massachusetts or New England alone that laws of iUU kind 
were enacted in colonial times. The volume before us records the fact 
that, **in ITOO the Assembly of New York passed an act against ^Jesuits 
and Popish priests,' which was followed by a similar law in Massachusetts 
the same year. These were accordingly compelled to leave those prov* 
inces." It need hardly be remarked that it was the Puritans who did the 
intolerant work in both cases. The chapter on persecution concludes 
with the following judicious remark : ^^ It required many years of expe- 
rience and reflection, even in America, to make the people see the folly of 
persecution on account of religious opinions." We trust that there 
will never again be anything of the kind ; and books of this^kind are well • 
calculated to prevent it. 

No State has made so much progress in enlightenment as Massachu- 
setts, and it is pleasant to add that precisely in proportion as her 
schools and colleges have improved has the spirit of intokrance and 



404 EDUCATION. [March, 

persecution diminished among her people. If it be not yet entirely ex- 
tinct, we are bonnd to remember that no system of edaoation, however 
ezeellenti has eyer yet succeeded io enlightening all haying an opportunity 
of enjoying its advantages. At the present day the minority of the people 
of Massachusetts are intelligent ; hence it is that there is no longer any 
persecution. Had the contrary been the case, the enlightened portion, how- 
ever liberal and tolerant, could not have prevented it any more than the 
sages and philosophers of Athens, aided by their numerous disciples and 
students, could have prevented the execution of Socrates and Phoc^ and 
the banishment of Themistodes, Plato, Aristotle, and many other illus- 
trious men. 

Another commendable feature in the volume before us is, that it 
makes no invidious comparisons between different races or nationalities, 
but treats all branches of the great Caucasian family alike. No effort is 
made to impress on the youthful mind the theory, at once vulgar, erroneous, 
and pemiciona, that the Anglo-Saxon is superior to aU others. Instead 
of exciting discord anil strife in this manner among a people so hetero- 
geneous as ours, the *' Pictorial History of the United States" does justice 
to the good qualities of each race, treating all who have distinguished 
themselves in the service of their Republic, not as English, Scotch, Irish, 
(Germans, French, &c., but as men to whom the gratitude of the nation is 
due, and who, whatever may be their race, deserve to bo ranked with the 
noblest of mankind. 

The negro is treated with the same intelligent regard for the lessons 
of experience. No attempt is made to depreciate his characteristics, nor 
yet to inspire him with a feeling of self-importance, which could only 
tend to injure his prospects and embitter his life, although the tempta- 
tion to the latter is very strong at the present day. Nor is the subject of 
slavery passed over ; but it is not made the pretext of either abusing or 
eulogizing any people ; in other words, it is treated in an historical, not 
in a partisan, spirit. We are reminded in a note that ^ the practice of 
holding human beings as slaves appears to have existed from the earliest 
ages ;" that *' it existed among the Jews even before the time of Moses; *' 
also among the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. 

It is well that our youths should be made aware that no particular 
odium should attach to the recent slaveholders of the South more than 
to any other people, since the greatest and most refined nations of the 
ancient and modern world' have maintained slavery as an institution — 
not ulone negro slavery, but also that of whites conquered in battle. 
Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been needless ; now, how- 
ever, when the negro has, all of a sudden,become so very dear to a certain 
class, it may be added that if some mulattoes of a tolerably white skin 
have been sold into slavery, as we are so often informed, some of the 
noblest of the Oaucasian race have been sold in a similar manner, in- 
cluding even the divine Plato. 



186T.] EDUCATIOK. 405 

None are more glad than wet that slavery Is abolished; we have never 
regarded it in any better light than amisfortnne in which the slaveholding 
state fally participated by the iqjary inflicted on its civilization. At the 
same time, we have never thought that any slaveholding people should be 
blamed for it more than another, except so far as their treatment of their 
slaves was more cruel ; and we believe it Is universally admitted that, ex- 
cept in rare instances, none have been so indulgent to their negro slaves as 
the people of our Southern States. But had it ueen otherwise, it would 
have been bad policy to continue to reproach them for it And the same 
remark applies with equal force to the late rebellion, which is treated in a 
similar spirit in the " Pictorial History of the United States.^' None can 
question the loyalty of the author ; but it b the most loyal who are most 
conciliatory and least disposed to vengeance in such circumstances, when 
sensible men. Even despots find It their own interest to grant general 
amnesties to those who have sought to overthrow their government. 
We have shown more than once in these pages that this is the course ad- 
vised by the most eminent writers on the law of nations ; we have shown 
that there are no worse enemies to a nation, whatever may be their inten- 
tions, than those who excite strife and discord between the different par- 
ties who compose it, whether on account of politics, religion, or difference 
of race. We have urged, upon the other hand, that there can be no true 
restoration of the Union until all who have influence on the public mind 
exercise that influence in favor of mutual forgiveness and good will be- 
tween North and South. 

There can be no better medium for this than a school history 
which is likely to be generally adopted as such both in the South 
and North ; and thus it is that we have taken these pains with the 
volume before us. We have never agreed with those who think that a 
school-book should be dismissed with a few brief remarks ; we think,on the 
contrary, that there are few novels, or even poems, which olmn so much 
attention, since the instruction we receive at school, especially what we 
are taught in the history of our own country, has an enduring influence* 
on our feelings, whether for good or evil. 

The value of the present enlarged edition is much enhanced by its copious 
index and pronouncing dictionary of proper names. Its annotations also 
form an excellent feature ; as is often the case in the best works, these foot-- 
notes often contain more important and more interesting information 
than the text. The questions for examination are comparatively few ; 
this we regard as a decided improvement in view of the fact that most 
school-books of the present day are overburdened with questions not one- 
third of which are either appropriate or useful. In general they bewilder 
the student rather than aid him. In the present volume only such ques- 
tions are given as seem necessary to impress the more important facts in 
the text more fully on the mind than a mere perusal, however careful, 



406 KDUCATiON. [Maich^ 

would be likely to acoomplUh. It is needless to recommeod to our readers 
a text-book of this cbaraoter ; its intrinsio merits are a sofficient recom- 
mendation to all intelligent parents and teachers. 

Fhy9ioloffy and ths Law of JSealth. Fcr tJis use of Sehoolt^ AcadmnUi^ 
and ColUffM, Bj Eswabd Jabyis, K. D. 12mo., pp. 427. New 
York: A. S. Barnes & Co. 1866. 

Oar academies and colleges should feel highly complimented by having 
a work of this character prepared for their use ; if not, the author most 
think that they are easily satisfied with a text book. Be this as it may, 
his work has no Jast claim to l>e considered a treatise on physiology. What 
it is in reality might be inferred from the prefisce, which commences thus: 
*^ Every hnman being is appointed to take the charge of his own body. He 
mwi supply its wants, direet iU powere^regulate iti aetians^ and thus sob- 
tun his life. This responsibility for the care of health takee preeedenee of 
all others, and requires the earlieit attention to prepare to meet iL Before 
any one dm have any nse for other knowledge he must know how to live." 

Perhaps the Doctor could tell us what time this appointment is made, 
or how is the charge taken t If *' every human being *' mtut do all that 
is said in the second sentence, then he needs no learned or unlearned 
doctor to instruct him. But can any man '^direct" the ** powers" or 
'^ regulate'* the ** actions" of his body? We think not, and we will assign 
a reason or two for our opinion. None will deny that the circulation of 
the blood is one of the "actions" of the body ; but who is so wise or so 
learned that he can always regulate his own circulation? There are 
various secretions formed in our bodies for different purposes ; but which 
of us can " regulate " them t Which of us can " direct the powers " of our 
lungs, heart, or even stomach? Nay, is it true of the body, even, that 
every human being must supply its wants ? Is it not notorious, alas! that 
there are many who cannot and, therefore, muet not? Bat the most 
absurd remark in the passage we have quoted is the last: "Before any 
one can have any use for other knowledge he must know how to live." 
This theory might suit the work before us very welL If the student 
were ignorant of everything else, then he might learn from Jarvis's 
" Physiology " how to live^that is, as the vegetables do. But does it 
not require some knowledge even to read and understand Dr. Jarvis ? 
Would he say that there is no use for such ? 

The two or three sentences which we have thus transcribed from the 
preface give a very good idea, brief as they are, of what we may expect 
in the body of the work. We do not mean, however, that it contains 
nothing usefhl or worthy of attention, for this would be neither correct 
nor just. What we do tfiean is that it is unfit to be used in any respecta* 
ble school as a text-book, not to mention either an academy or college, 
for the reason that it simply oonsiflts of extracts taken from different 



186t.] iDUQAnoir. 40T 

** popular ^ works, relating ohieflj to food and its JUgwtion, exeroiae and 
rest, respiration, Ao. ; or, perk^s, it would be more correct to saj that 
it is compiled firom snoh pablioations, 

Kow, be it obserred that we woold not hare it thrown aside on this 
aoconnt. Kor would we advise any one not to buj it On the contrary, 
we would recommend it to those parents in the country who have not the 
opportunity or the means to have their children properly instructed in ^ 
l^ysiology. Such would find many useful hints in it and derive benefit 
from its perusal. But it lacks that systematic arrangement, appropriate- 
ness of expression, and accuracy of statement which are essential to a 
text-book. The compiler is too fond of illustrating his theories by tedious 
stories, which are rather suggestive of the quacks who have always 
wonderM cures to relate as an encouragement to others to take ^* a few 
bottles more.*' Thus, ''A young man at Waltham, Massachusetts, was 
very feeble, but not sick," &c (p. 289). He walked more than a thousand 
miles in forty*two days, and this cured him. The first day three miles 
&tigued him, and the last day he felt sufficient energy to visit his young 
friends in the n^ghborhood after having walked forty miles, (p. 290.) 
Does not this show that the '* movement cure " is no humbug? Again, 
we have an account of a student who preferred to study rather than play 
about Although nothing remarkable happened to him for several years, 
theday of retribution came at last, and how awfully he did sujier, accord- 
ing to our author! Hone have more confidence than we in proper exer- 
cise as a means of preserving or improving the health. But we have no 
confidence in sensational stories, but think they are out of place in text- 
books. 

Dr. Jarvis gives no index to his '^ Physiology ; '' but in lieu thereof we 
have twenty-eight small type pages of '* quesUons.'* Not a few of theae 
are curious, such, for example, as ^* How long may we safely eat t " 
^ Who will not err in his diet? " '* What is one proof of Divine benevo- 
lence and wisdom ? '* ^ What question is still discussed ? " *' What is 
the general belief in regard to diet? '' te. But enough. We have no 
personal knowledge of the author. We wish to do him no ill. We con- 
demn his Phynology as a text-book simply because it is one of the worst 
we have ever examined and because there is no need to use such while 
reslly good works are to be had quite as cheap as this. 

A Orammar of the Latin Language for the uh ^ SehooU^ with 
ExereUee and YoealulaTiei, Bv William Bingham, A M., Super- 
intendent of the Bingham School 12mo, pp. 888. Philadelphia : E.. 
tf. Btttlxb h Oo : 1867. 

Wb are much pleased with this work, and we think that any intelli- 
gent teacher who examines it as carefiilly as we have done will be simi- 
li^ly imorassed by its merits. It first attracted our attention as being in. 



408 KDtJCATXOK. [March, 

Bcrict acoordance with the Bjatem of teaching Latin whicb we have fre- 
quently reoommended in these pages. Tlie great fadt of the Latin 
grammars generally need in our colleges as well as high schools, at the 
present daj, is that they treat that mijestic and noble tongne as if it 
were one of the occult sciences ; they give the students nothing but *' rules 
- and exceptions ;^* no specimens of the language to familiarize them with 
its form and structure, and encourage them to persevere in its study. 
Thus, they are expected to commit to memory an enormous amount of 
dry details about Latin before any real effort is made to show them what 
Latin is. 

Even in natural history, no description of an animal, how- 
ever graphic^ will give us so clear an idea of his color, sise, 
general outline, and strength, as an ocular examination of him. Sup- 
podng we agree with those who, not content with calling the 
Latin a dead language, call it a fossil, what naturalist is so learned and 
skilful as to be able to determine the precipe species to which the foesil 
of an animal belongs if he is only presented with some small fragments of 
bone — no vertebra, no femur, no tibia, no complete seclion of the skull f 
A few Latin words here and there, conjugated or declined, can give the 
student as little idea of the language of Cicero and Virgil as a few splin- 
ters from the extremities of the bones of the mastodon can give of the 
form and strength of that ancient animal. 

In those European countries in which Latin is best taught and known 
this principle is generally recognized by those who compile Latin gram- 
mars ; accordingly, most of them not only give extracts from Latin authors 
as specimens; they also give a large proportion of the rules in Latin, so 
as to render it necessary that the student habituate himself to the use of 
the language. So far as we have seen, this has not been attempted 
hitherto in this country. The nearest approach to it is made by Professor 
Bingham in the work now before us ; and we may add that it is perhaps 
the nearest approach to it which is yet called for, or which would be 
Justified by the extent to which the language is studied amongst us. We 
think this will be admitted by intelligent professors when we remark 
that in the volume before us^ Latin extracts from the classic authors, 
together with vocabularies, are presented to the student at the end of 
every series of rules, alternating with passages in English to be trans- 
lated into Latin ; each simple and brief at the beginning and becoming 
somewhat difficult and elaborate in proportion as the rules are learned 
and the general principles of the language become familiar. Thus, the 
synthetical and analytical processes are happily combined by Professor 
Bingham. 

We do not mean that the system is new ; indeed, it is an old system 
in Europe with the best teachers; and, what is more, no system has suo- 
43eeded so well. The credit due to the author of the present volume is 



186T.] TBAYIL8. 409 

that of introdaoing it into this oonntry in a manner that must recom- 
mend it to all who are capable of appreciating the difference between a 
wilderness of rales and exceptions, and a jndicionfl combination of roles, 
exceptions, and practical illustrations. Indeed, the only fault we have to 
find with '' Bingham^s Latin Grammar '* is that it has no alphabetical 
index. It is true that its table of contents is both copious and admirably 
arranged. We also do the author the Justice to admit that we know 
teachers eminent for their success who are of opinion that a full alpha- 
betical index to an elementary tesft-book has a tendency to produce in- 
dolent habits. Be this as it may, if Prof. Bingham has not furnished an 
index, he has given in its stead what has cost him much more labor than 
a complete index would hare cost — namely, a Latin-English and an Eng- 
lish-Latin vocabulary. This occupies forty-four pages, double column, 
and small type— the whole characterized by remarkable accuracy. The 
work has several other features which it would afford us pleasure to 
point out were we not limited Just now in time and space ; but we think 
that the characteristics which we have indicated fully justify us in rec- 
ommending the work as one which will prove^a desideratum both to 
teacher and student. 

TRAVELS. 

Kiw America. By William HspwoBrn Dizoar. 12mo., pp. 405. Phila- 
delphia : J. B. Lippincott & Go., 1867. 

Tna gentlemen who reprint this work are always ready to help them- 
selves to any foreign book which they think will pay without paying any- 
thing for it save the cost of publication, while none give less encouragement 
to American authors. Accordingly we sometimes find their imprint on a 
good foreign work, but very rarely on a good American work, because, in 
genera], the author of the latter has to be paid a decent price, whereas the 
Messrs. Lippincott want to get everything ** cheap." The difficulty is that 
in searching the foreign market for something taking, their judgment 
which is rather defective at best, is apt to fail them. This has been the 
case in the present instance. 

Mr. Hepworth Dixon writes in very respectable English. He is un- 
doubtedly an educated, intelligent man; but nevertheless his *'New 
America'* is an exceedingly dull book. Although originally published 
in England, it is evident that it was chiefly intended for American readers. 
His countrymen can hardly blame Mr. Dixon for this, since they did not 
appreciate his former productions. He wrote his **Holy Land" and 
*' William Penn," and John Bull persistently reftised to read either. What 
less could our author do, then, than to eulogise ^New America?" Did 
not Tacitus do something similar to ^ spite " the Romans ? He travelled in- 
to Germany and portrayed the ancient Qermans as a model people in every 



410 TBiYBLa. [March, 

respect, except tliat they vere not yet quite bo refiaed or temperate 
as they might be. The startled Romans immediately betook themselyee 
to the perusal of the historian's previous works. Perhaps the present 
performance will have a similar effect Be this as it may, certain it is 
that we were neyer praised before as we are by Mr. Hep worth Dixon* 
Instead of the rude, vulgar, half-witted people without either decenoy or 
honesty, we used to be only a few brief years ago, we are now refined, 
high-minded, conscientious, &c., &o. ; in short, we are worthy of the 
grpat Anglo-Saxon people from whoca we have sprung; nay, we are 
Anglo-Saxons of the pure breed, and this is the only thing that will, or 
rather may, save us from the domination of the blacks, which would be 
inevitable in a very short time did we belong to any less noble race I 

As we are, even our vices have redeeming features — at least those of 
the genuine Anglo-Saxon type. This is true, for example, of Mormouism ; 
and, accordingly, our author rather admires itself and its prophets and 
prophetesses. It seems that Brigham Young has been grossly misrepre- 
sented. What if he has a score or two of wives and as niany concubhies 
as he cares for ; he is, neverthelesS| an honest, conscientious man, and the 
tendency of his system seems salutary upon the whole. Spiritualism, 
negroism, and even the excrescence which so many of ourselves regard as 
a blemish on our civilization — ^are treated by our author in the same 
eouleur de ro$e style. 

Sometimes, however, Mr. Dixon wants to remind us that we are not 
quite equal, in some important respects, to the great people **at home ;'' 
but he would not say so himself for the world*; he only gives the opinion 
of some BostoniaUf New Yorker, or Philadelphian, whose perception 
and taste are in advance of those of his neighbors. Of course, we cannot 
be offended at what one of ourselves thinks of us, even though he depre- 
ciates our ladies, because they have not as large bosoms as their English 
grandmothers, or have certain other faults. 

Some will question whether this course is proper or manly. Many 
will ask, if a critic sees faults, why not poiat them out openly and crit- 
icise them ? And it must be remembered that it is as a critic Mr. Dixon 
wishes to be known ; although the Athenmum^ of which he is the editor, 
has become rather eulogistic than critical under his auspices. But taking 
*^New America '' as it is, who will say that it will do us as much good as 
any of the books that have openly criticised us, not excepting Dickens^s 
^^Akerican Notes." Indiscriminate eulogies on nations never answer 
any useful purpose, except as a lesson to future eulogists. Take, for ex- 
ample, the book which of all others mostly resembles this, namely, Mrs. 
Stowe^s '* Sunny Memories ; " what good has it accomplished anywhere f 
Of all the author's productions it has been the least read; even those 
whom it praised most thought she was rather nnprofitably employed in 
trritingit; and llrs. Stowe has far more talent, and is a much more 
a6nte observer than Mr. Dixon. 



1861.] TBAVELS* 411 

We will give a apeoimea or two of the aort of information which the 
world receives in the yolame before us. In monrning over the vice tiiat 
prevails in New York— which like almost every place in Kew America, 
is highly praised— onr author kindly says that although we are more 
vicious than the denizens of any other city, we should hardly be blamed 
for it, since it is caused by the disparity of the sexes; that is, we have not 
women enough to fnrnish wives for all the men who want to marry. 
This will be news to onr census commissioners, who tell us that far from 
being in the minority, the women of our large cities are more numerous 
than the men ; and had they made any different report, daily observation 
wonld have satisfied any intelligent person that it was erroneous. But 
let onr author speak for himself: 

'* Think what this large excess of men oyer women entails, in the way of 
trial, on American society— think what a state that coontrr most be in 
whidi counts up in its fields, in its cities, seven hundred and thirty Uion* 
sand unmarried men 1 

** Bear in mind that these crowds of prosperous fellows are not bachelors 
by choice, selfish dogs, woman-haters, men useless to themselves and to the 
world in which they live. They are arerage young men, busy and push- 
ing ; fellows who would rather faJl into love than into sin ; who would be fond 
of their wires and proud of their children if society would only provide 
them with lawful mates. What are they now ? An army of monks with- 
out the defense of a religious vow. These seven hundred and thirty- 
thousand bachelors haye never promised to be chaste ; many of them, it 
may be feared, regard the tenth commandment as little more than a paper 
law. You say to them in effect, ' You are not to pluck these flowers, not to 
trample on these borders, if you please.' Suppose that they will not 
please ? How is the unwedded youth to be hindered &om coveting his 
neighbor's wife ? You know what Naples is, what Munich is. You have 
seen the condition of Liverpool, Cadiz, Antwerp, Llvomo ; of every city, of 
eveiy port, in which there is a floating population of sijogle men ; but in 
which of these cities do you find any approach to New York, in the show of 
open and triumphant vice ? " 

" Men who know New York tax worse than myself, assure me that in 
depth and darkness of iniquity, neither Paris in its private haunts, nor 
London in its ox>en streets, can hold « candle to it. Paris may be subtler, 
London may be grosser, in its vices; but for largeness of depravity, for 
domineering insofence of sin, for rowdy callousness to censure, they tell me 
the Atlantic city finds no rival on the earth."— pp. 266 and 267. 

This, to bo sure, is a gloomy picture, but we are graciously excused for be- 
ing so much more, vicious than others, because women are so scarce among 
ns I Singularly enough, all our ** isms^' are produced by the same cause. 
Because our ladies are so few they must be engaged in all kinds of 
naughty tricks. An ordinary philosopher would view the subject in the 
opposite light; that is, he would infer from the vagaries alluded to that 
the ladies had nothing better to do — no husbands to please, consequently 
no babies to take eare of^ no pies to make, dec. Bnt Mr. Hepworth 
Dixon knows better than this. 

" On the other side, this demand for mates who can never be supplied, 
not in one place only, but in every place alike, affects the female mizid vrith 
a variety of plagues ; driving your slater into a thousand rssUeaa agita- 



tions about her xiglits and powers ; into debating woman's eta in Ustoiy, 
woman's place in creation, woman's miarion in the familj ; into public 
IiTSteria, into table-rapping, into anti-wedlock societies, into theories about 
me loYe, natural marriage, and artistic matemitj ; into anti-ofbpring res- 
olutions, into sectarian poljgamy, into free trade of the afiecdons, into 
community of wives. Some part of this wild disturbance of the female 
mind, it may be urged, is due to the freedom and prosperity which women 
find in America as compared against what they enjoy in Europe ; but this 
freedom, this prosperity, are in some degree, at least, the consequences <rf 
that disparity in numbers which makes the hand of eyery young girl in 
the United States a positive prize."— p. 268. 

What a handsome oompliment is here paid to the ladies I May they 
not now regard themselves as having a carte blanehe to do— what 
they like ? Whatever unhandsome thing they may do, it is evidently not 
their fault, but their misfortune, becaase there is not enough of them 
to keep quiet I Accordingly our author would not say a word against 
them. He will only put the lash into the hands of "a bluff yankee,** 
somewhat bedaubing it before he does so. First we are told, on the 
autliority -of an American that ** the American lady haf mode no American 
home;" this of course he does not believe ; but he proceeds to give the 
opinions of others, as follows : 

" What do you say, now, to our ladies ? " said to me a bluff Yankee, as 
we sat last night under the veranda, here in the hotel at Saratoga. 
" Charming," of course, I answered, '* pale, delicate, bewitddng ; dashing, 
too, and radiant." "Hoo 1 " cried he, putting up his hands; *'they are 

just not worth a d . They can't walk, they can't ride, they can't 

nurse. " " Ah, you have no wife," said I, in a soothing tone. " A wife ! " 
he shouted; "I should kill her." "With kindness?" "Ughl" he an- 
swered ; " with a poker. Look at these chits here, dawdSng by the 
fountain. What are they doing now ? what have they done aM day? Fed 
and dressed. They have changed their clothes three times, and had their 
iiair washed, combed, and curled three times. That is their life. Have they 
been out for awalk, for a ride ? Have they read a book ? have they sewn a 
seam ? Not a bit of it. How do your ladies spend their time ? They put on 
eood boots, they tuck up their skirts, and hark away through the country 
Dmes. I was in Hampshire once ; my host was a duke ; his wife was out 
before breakfast, with doffs on her feet and roses on her cheeks ; she rode to 
the hunt, she walked to the copse ; a ditch would not frighten her, a hedge 

would not turn her back. Why, our women, poor, pale ." " Come, I 

said, " they are very lovely." " Ugh 1 " said the saucy fellow, " they have 
no bone, no fibre, no juice ; they have only nerves ; hut what can you ex- 
pect ? They eat pearlash for bread ; they drink ice-water for wine ; they 
wear tight stays, thin shoes, and barrel skirts. Such things are not fit to 
live, and, thank God, in a hundred years not one of their descendants will 
be left aUve."— pp. d69 and 270. 

How conveniently Mr. Dlzon meets with "a bluff Yanicee" who 
thinks so much of the women of England and so little of his own 
countrywomen I Of course **he had got an inkling of the truth" — 
^* there must be lack of vital power,'' &o. But there is a class of Ameri- 
can women which has pleased our author quite well ; more than once he 
becomes quite enthusiastic in his admiration of the Mormon women* 
Thu8» in speaking of one^ he says: *'The inost famous, perhaps, of these 



1867.] TRAYXLB. 418 

ladies ia Eliza Snow, the poetess, a lady aniyereally respected for her fine 
character, nniyersally applauded for her fiae talents." — (p. 205.) 

In short, onr author thinks aa highly of the Mormons, male and female, 
as he does of the hlacks, and it will be seen in due time that the latter are 
a great people in his estimation. Now, let it be remembered, what is the 
chief cause of vice in New York, according to Mr. Dixon — ^that we are 
vicious because we have not women enough. We do not attend to our 
business on this account, and the worst consequences follow as natural 
results. With admirable consistency he presents us the other side of the 
picture in Utah: ** They (the Mormons) live and thrive, and men who live 
by their own labor, thrive by their own enterpri8e,cannot be altogether mad. 
Their streets are clean, their houses bright, their gardens fruitful. Peace 
reigns in their cities. Harlots and drunkards are unknown there. They 
keep open more common schools than any other sect in the United 
States" (p. 171). What an excellent people! who would not like to live 
amongst them ? But is it not remarkable that while this disparity of the 
sexes produces such deplorable results in New York and Philadelphia, 
especially the former, its effects in Utah are so favorable t 

A paucity of men, it seems, does no injury to a country, but rather 
good, provided that each individual has from four to ten wives. *' But 
granted," says our author, *^ that by either good or evil means they could 
get the women into their church, it is idle to deny that the possession of 
$uoh a treasure gives them enormous powers of increase. One man may 
be the father of a hundred children. One woman can hardly be the 
mother of a score ! " (p. 211.) Thus, in New York, where women are so 
scarce, they occupy themselves with all kinds of vagaries, whereas in 
Utah, where they are so abundant in proportion to the other sex, they 
have time for nothing but rearing children, dec. We are bound to believe, 
therefore, that a hundred women with a hundred husbands have more 
time to run about, deliver lectures, make tables turn, discuss free love and 
** artistic maternity," than if they had only twenty or even a dozen hus- 
bands between them I 

There is neither liar, hypocrite, nor rogue to be 'seen among the Mor- 
mons (p. 208) ; and, accordmgly, they are very much like the English, as, 
indeed, are all good or great people. Brigham himself is quite a respect- 
able personage. Ergo, his type is to be found ^' at home," and so is that 
of his wife for a similar reason, as may bd seen from the following de- 
scription : 

*' We saw Brigham Young for the first time in his private box. A laige 
head, broad, fair face, with blue eyes, llght-biown hair, good nose and 
men^ mouth ; a man plainly dressed, in black coat and pojitaloons, white 
waistcoat and cravat, gold studs and sleeve-links, English in build and 
looks,— but English of the middle class and of a provindal town : such waa 
the Mormon prophet, pope, and king, as we firat saw him in the theatre 
among his people. * A lady, one of hia wives, whom we afterwaida came 



414 faiVEM. [March, 

to know as Amelia, sat with him in the box ; ahe, too,waa dieBsedinaqniet 
English style ; and now and then she eyed the audience firom behind her 
cnrtain, thiongh an opera glass, as English ladies areapt to do at home. 
She was pretty, and appeared to ns then rather pensive and poeticaL"-— p. 
146. 

In short, onr anthor likes the Mormons so well, that he devotes eighteen 
chapters to them — a considerable proportion of his book ; bat much more 
conld have been pnt into one chapter by a graphic, terse pea than he 
gives altogether ; and if he has noted anything that will be new even in 
England, or which the English pnblio as well as ourselves have not been 
fiuniliar with for years, it has escaped our attention, always excepting 
snoh "facts'* as those we have noted. 

If the black were only an Anglo-Saxon, he would be eqaal to the 
Mormon, at least in elevation of character. "The fact is," wk are told^ 
" the negro is the coming man** (p. 467). It is' added that he is already 
" courted, flattered, circled," and reasons which are snbstantial, if tnie, are 
assigned for the fact (Tb), Oar author mentions several qualities which he 
tells us fit the negro for a very high form of civil life . " Some negroes,^ 
he adds, " are rich and learned, practice at the bar, preach from the pulpit, 
strut upon the stage*' CP- 468). In proof of the justice of his estimate he 
gives us an account of a conversation he had with a negro of his acquaint- 
ance, with whom he went about Richmond to see the negro schools. Since 
the negroes are such bright, brave, excellent people as they are described 
by Mr. Dixon, it is not strange that so many Northerners have so long been 
of opinion that the white Southerners would be improved by inter- 
marriage with the blacks, though the fact will be new to many of our 
readers. But let us hear our author : 

" Many good people in the North had begun to think it would be well 
for these pile and biuous shadows of the South, to marry their sons and 
daughters to such highly^gifted and emotional creatures, with a view to 
restoring the strength and thickening the fibre of their race. When the 
war broke out, this feeling spread ; as it raged and stormed, this feeling 
deepened : and now, when tne war is over, and the South lies prostrat^ 
there is a party in New England, counting women in its ranks, who woold 
be glad, if they could find a way, to marrv the whole white population, 
livmg south of Richmond, to the blacks. Again and sfain I have heard 
men, grave of &ce and olean of life, declare in public, and to sympathiring 
hearers, that a marriage of white and black would improve the paler 
8tock."—p. 466. 

We feel that we have occupied far too much space and time with 
" New America;'* which, let us regard it in any light we may, is a decided 
failure. Whatever may be the faults of our English cousins, no genuine 
Englishman is without more or less of that quality which he himself^ hap- 
pily enough, calls "pluck.** If he entertains adverse opinions of any 
country or people, he saya so honestly and fearlessly, and does not'se^ 
to father them on " a bluff Yankee *' or anybody else. In short, neither 
the sneaking insinuation nor the fulsome toadyism of this book is British 
in any sense. 



'186T.] BXLLK8-LRTRKB. 415 

BELLEB-LEnBBS* 

Oahary^-Virginina. TragedUt, By Laugbton Osbobv. 12mo., pp* 
200, New York : Doolady. 1867- 

In general Mr. Doolady exhiUto considerable judgment in his selec- 
tions ; it is but seldom that we have had any serious fault to find with 
bis publications. Nor does the one now before us form an exception ; 
although we do not think that Laaghton Osborn will ever occupy a high 
rank among tragic writers. He may succeed in other departments of 
literature, but we can assure him in all kindness that tragedy is not his 
forte ; nor is poetry in any form. After making full allowance for the dis- 
advantages under which he has labored in treating the subjects he has 
chosen, we see nothing to justify us in the opinion that he would have 
succeeded under more favorable circumstances. 

The incidents which he has attempted to dramatise in '*Oalvary" 
are at once too fiamiliar and too mysterious. Even Milton has 
Med in his *' Paradise Begained/* The life and death of Ohrist 
are so fully detailed in the New Testament that it would require a 
genius of a high order to invest the subject with that air of noFclty 
which is essential to the drama. This is admirably illustrated in the 
Dwina Oammedia of Dante, although not a drama in the strict sense of 
the term. There is no intelligent person who has read that truly sublime 
poem who has not observed a vast difference between the JPwrgatorio 
and the Faradito; but a still greater difference between the Inferno and 
the Paradito^ the latter being greatly inferior to either of the former. 

The reason is obvious enough ; while neither sacred nor profane history 
has much to say on what passes in purgatoiy or hell, each is quite 
copious on what relates to paradise considered as the happiness derived 
by man from the death of Ohrist. 

If, however, it be urged that paradise is not familiar, being extra 
terraiMy the same claim cannot be made for Oalvary. That the 
events which took place at Calvary were in the highest degree 
tragic is beyond dispute; but^ as already observed, all the incidents 
and circumstances that led to it are so fhlly described that but little 
room is left for the exercise of the fancy. Were it otherwise, we think 
there would still be some objection to the exhibition of Jesus, the Arch- 
angels, Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene Simon Peter, &C., on 
the stage, at least in the style in which it is done in Laughton Osbom^s 
"Calvary." 

Milton was content to commence his Paradise Lost with what took 
place on our own sphere— *' man's first disobedience," dec. Homer 
soared no higher at the outset than the wrath of Achilles. Nor has Yirgl^ 
attempted a different course. But our present author lays his first scene 
in heaven, and his first speakers are Raphael and Michael, who have a 



416 BELLB8-LKTTBS8. [Uarchy 

olionu of angels, though, in sooth, rather a disoordant one. In Scene III. 
Jesus, Hary and Martha appear, the hcu$ being '*A room in the dwell- 
ing of Jesns' Mother." If the dialogue whioh takes place between the 
Saviour of mankind and his Mother had been intended for a burlesque it 
could hardly have seemed to us more profane. But we cheerfully do the 
author the justice to believe that he means well throughout. Mary .ad- 
dresses Jesus, " O my darling I " and tells him that what He says 
is to happen makes her '^ blood curdle.'' In another part of the same 
dialogue she is made to say : 

<* I am thf moCber, Jasv, ud mjr hmrt 
Warms to thee now m when I first beheld thee 
• After mj weary travail," te.— (p. 0.) 

When Martha enters Mary appeals to her, as if she had more influence 
on Jesus than herself, thus : 

<'KBeelwlthme,llarlhaI B« hot Im^ far that. 
T^UhlmhokUlsmel T»UhimI— » 

The first scene of the second act is laid in hell, and the interlocutors 
are Lucifer and Beelzebub, who have a chorus of evil spirits which dlffiurs 
very slightly, if anything, from the chorus of angels, except that tlie former 
is, perhaps, a little more lugubrious than the latter. Next come Judas 
Iscariot and Mary Magdalene. Judas speaks quite idiomatically. " Ugh! " 
he says, ^'and the lamp looks dying." She replies : ^* Bo not dlspleasM, 
dear Judas," (p. 15.) Further on in the same dialogue she addresses 

him: 

*< That stanr'd look worries me ; and, oh ! the chill 
Of this anwholesome lodging I "—(p. 15.) 

We have not yet got beyond the second act ; and the tragedy extends 
to five acts, occupying seventy-four pages. Under these circumstances 
we think our readers will excuse us if we cannot proceed any farther in 
this direction. 

Vtrgmina is a better effbrt than *'Oalvary," but we are very much 
afraid that it will not succeed as a tragedy. The Romans, male 
and female, are made to express themselves considerably more like New 
Yorkers than is in strict accordance with the truth of history. The fol- 
lowing is a pretty favorable specimen : 

2ea.^< I am loUlos, and should the people 
Hie sole legitimate sooros of sorerelgn rule, 
For that thej are the manj , and their thews 
Btra&i to heat* up, to prop and keep sostatn'd 
The edifice whose chambers j e but fill."— (p. 103.) 

# 

Fernando Wood could hardly have expressed himself more democrat- 
ically or more patriotically than this when a candidate for Gover- 
nor of the State. We cheerfully admit, however, that there are some 
good passages in Yirginina, but we hope we shall be excused if we prefer 
to let the reader discover them for himself. 



186T.] BSLLXS-LEITBKS. 41T 

Before we oonolnde we beg to give the author one word of advioe, 
which we trust he will aooopt in the eame friendly, benevolent spirit in 
which it in oflTored. He announces to us on one of the fly-leaves of this 
volume that the two pieces we have just glanced at *' are the first of a 
series of ninete&n^ which, with the exception of two, are now completed 
and ready for the press.*' This is followed by the titles of ten tragedies and 
seven comedies I We have no doubt that Mr. Osl)om is as much at home 
in comedy as he is in tragedy ; nay, we think be Is more sucoessftil in 
exciting laughter even when he does not mean to do so, than he is in 
drawing forth tears when most tragically inclined. At the same time, we 
would advise him to withhold his "Silver Head" and '' Double Deceit " 
(comedies) until the people are much more predisposed to laughter than 
they are at present^ and have more time and money to spare. 



1. Smw Flahe$ : A Chapter from the Booh of Nature. 4to, pp. 146. 

8. I¥araP$ Stareh for Sea SheOe. 24mo., pp. 858. 
Boston : American Tract Society. 

These two volumes deserve to stand side by side in the most select 
family library. Each is devoted to a particular series of the beauties of 
nature ; and it is difficult to decide to which we should give the prefer- 
ence for the just admiration it excites for the works of the Creator, even 
in what we are wont to regard as their simplest forms. A snow flake ia 
a beautiful object to look upon under any circumstances ; but it is only 
when viewed with the microscope that it reveals to us those chaste and 
elegant outlines in which Nature surpasses the highest perfection of art. 

In the first volume, at the head of these remarks, there are several finely 
executed engravings, which represent a large variety of snow-crystals 
sketched at different times during the last century by navigators and sci- 
entific men. The specimens thus given are taken principally from those 
described by Dr. Kettis, Captain Scoresby, and Mr. James <>laisher, of 
Lewisham, England — gentlemen whose skill and accuracy in this curious 
department of science have secured for them a European fame, which is 
now extended, by this tasteful and attractive volume, to the New Worid. 

The plates, which are reaMy worth the price of the whole volume, are 
each accompanied by appropriate passages in poetry and prose, selected 
from various authors who have written more or less on ^e beauties of 
the snow. Among these selections is a fine .poeib from the Dublin Uni* 
versity Magazine, entitled '* The Spirit of the Snow,'' which many of our 
readers will remember ; but it is one of those happy efltasions replete with 
beauty^ grace and melody which havean enduring freshness for the lover of 
14 



418 BKLLBs-LRTBBB« ' [March, 

poetiy. Other gems of similar water are Longfellow's ^ Winter," Whit- 
tier's "Pa?8 of the Sierra," Bryant's "Snow Shower," and Eliza Cook's 
" Time of Snow.'' It always affords ns sincere pleasure to examine a 
book of this kind ; and we are satisfied that there is no intelligent person 
to whom we recommend it who will not feel disposed to thank as for do- 
ing so. 

The transition from the Snow Flakes to the Sea Shells presents an agree- 
able contrast. In the one as well as in the other we see the hand of the 
same all-wise Artificer. Beantifhl beyond description as the snow, 
crystals are, they are not more so than many of the shells which are found 
on the seashore and on the banks of large rivers. Kone bat thoee who 
have paid some attention to oonchology can ftdly appreciate this ftot, or 
form any approximate idea of the pains taken by the Orestor in at once 
adorning and protecting creatores which, were they not thas distin- 
gaished, would often seem unworthy of the least attention. Apart firom 
the carious and interesting information which this little volnme contains 
it is admirably oalcnlated to dispose the yoathfdl mind to study and 
reflection ; and yet it is by no means what is understood by the phrase 
*' child's book." Except the experienced naturalist or conchologist, there 
is no one so old or so learned bat that he can pass an agreeable hoar in 
comparing the descriptions in " Frank's Search" with the pictorial illos- 
trations. The* table of contents is well arranged, and the stndy of the 
▼olame is still more facilitated by an alphabetical pronoancing index. 



1, OracWs MisBion. A TaU of Norway. By Helen Wall PiEBSOff, 
aathor of " Bertha," "Edith Vaaghan," &o. 16mo., pp. 255. 

%. Btmoat Stony Lonewtne; or^ Oharli^B Minion. By the aathur of 
'^Margarethe and Waldemar." ISmo., pp. 816. 

8. Avnti^i Ckrintmoi Tresi. The Oh%ld*» Gift-hooh for the Holidayi. 
18mo., pp. 808. New York : Gen. Prot. Epis. S. S. Union. 1867* 

It woald be a saperflaoas task to analyse books like these; were 
there anything profoand or complex in their coustrnotion, they woald be 
onsaitable for the purpose for which they are designed — ^namely, th% 
inatraotton and amusement of children. A curiously woven plot, requir- 
ing an effort of the understanding to unravel, would be a positive defect 
in such books; elaborate portraitures of character would be equally 
needless. All that is required in writing for the young is to embody 
good principles and useful lessons in simple but attractive language. 

There may be an excess of wisdom in sach books ; as for philoeophy, it 



1861.] BELLBS-LBTTBI8. 419 

would be out of place. Those who would saooeed in making lasting 
impressions on the jonng bj means of books mnsti above all things, aim 
at simplicity in language ; but this alone will not do ; there must be viva* 
oitj and sprightliness. The most thoughtful child is repelled bj a lugu- 
brious style; he may listen to a dry sermon without falling asleep, but he 
cannot be induced to read it ; if an effort is made to force him the prob- 
ability is that he will take a dislike to all books. 

The writers of these three Yolumes seem to understand all this; for 
they speak to the little ones, not like philosophers, or learned people, but 
they assume for the occasion the language and mode of thought of the chil- 
dren themsielves, only taking care to be more correct, and more suggest- 
ive in each. Those addressed in '^Grace^s Mission*' are not mere chil- 
dren; accordingly the story is constructed with more art than that of 
either of the other two ; there is also more delineation of character, and 
the young reader is made to depend more on his own understanding — ^he 
has to reflect and understand more, yet by no means so much as in a 
novel, or in a didactic work intended for adults or even for those who ar^ 
not expected to possess more than ordinary intelligence. We do not men- 
tion this as a defect ; on the contrary, we regard it as a merit, since we 
should address all whom we would instruct in a language which is familiar 
to them. 

On the same principle we like the two smaller books. ** Bessie at 
Stony Lonesome*' is designed for a younger class than " Grace's Mission,** 
and it is simpler in proportion. The author is already agreeably known 
in connection with *^ Margarethe and Waldemar ;** but we think th^ 
present volume will prove still more popular. In no other which we 
have examined for some time are the precepts of religion and mor- 
ality clothed in a more attractive garb. 

Although ** Auntie*s Christmas Trees'* is intended for the holidays, it 
may be read with profit at any season. In none of the three do we find any 
thing sectarian ; indeed, it is characteristic of this Society to be well dis- 
posed and conciliatory toward all Christian sects ; that commendable spirit 
pervades all its publications. 



The SMath at Home: an Illustrated Beligious Magazine for the Family. 
March, 1867. Boston : American Tract Society. 

Judging by the numbers we have seen, the title of this monthly describes 
its character without any affectation or exaggeration. The number before 
us contains sixty-five neatly printed double-column pages of reading mat- 
ter, embracing a considerable variety of pieces in proee and poetry which 



480 BiLLBS-URntu. [March, 1S6T. 

are at onoe entertalniiig and instniotlYe. Indeed, we do'not tlilnk that 
any intelligent person who took up the present number of ** The Sabbath 
at Home ** and examined it oarefolly— not omitting to glanoe at its pic- 
torial illostralions in pasring— would ha^e any hesitancy, let his theolog- 
ical views be what they might, in presenting it to his fkmily as a sooree 
of nsefol knowledge and harmless amnsement which, from its simplicity 
of langnage as well as cheapness, is within the reach of all. 



TO TBM 

FOURTJSBNTH YOLUMB 

OF TBB 

National (f^uatterls Hebteto* 



Ave Maria, oottoed, 188-190. 

AyUri, his life, writings, and inflnenM, article 
00, 900— deretopment of gtnUm the reralt 
of MCident, A.— Ambition of Alfierl, 900, 910 
—birth oootemporary with Goethe, 21<^— 
perentage, ib.— egotism of his aatoblogrsphy, 
911— education in early yoath, 911,919— 
Ingratitade to hia teachers, 919, 918— in- 
trigues with women, 918, 914— Arst love, 914 
—duel, t&.— fkults due to his relativea, 916— 
errors did not terminate with his boyhood, 
918— college degrees conferred ui^ustly , <b.— 
arrested for misoondoct, ib.— diaalpated aa- 
aociates, 917— lore with a married woman, A. 
— becomea a military man, A.— travels, 918 
—his ophiion of Petiarch,i&.— lepreclation of 
luaian teachers, A —dismissal of tutor. 918, 
919— abuse of the French, 910— opiolon or 
Paris, A.— dislike of Louis Fifteenth, 990— 
escape from Paris, A.— oonflscation of his 
boolcs. A.— ovorioresof French gentlemen, 
920, 291— extract fh>m his reply, 921— admi- 
ration of England, A.— comparison between 
Heine and Alfieri,2il, 922 — wrlllngs lack 
culture and obaervation, 922— estimate of 
learned men, 923— of classics, A.— influence 
for good. A.— extract ftom autobiography, 
A.— establishment of a literary society, 924 — 
reason fur the first attempt at tragedy, 924, 
926— satirises his own tragedy. 926— trans- 
ports of ambition, A —necessity for hard 
study, A.— soUoiis criticism, 926— new love, 
wife of Oiarles the Pretender ,92ti,'i27— separa- 
tion betweenChariesandhis wife, 227— meet- 
ing of the Countess in Paris^.— ootlons re 
gardtng his own death, 228, 920— Napoleon of- 
flbrs him a positi^ n In national institute, 920 
—his comraaes, A.— study of Greek, A.— 
death, A.— kindness of the Countess, 980— 
number of posthumous writings, A.— char- 
acter of his genius, A.— rank among French 
dramatlsta inftelor to that of Baclne and Oor- 
neiUe.980,281-compared with VolUlie,931— 
best dramatist of Italy, but not the best poet, 
9Sl,239-«uperiority ortraged> to opera. A— 
dilforence between Alfleri and the French 
dramatiBts,982,988— French drama consured 
by English critics, 988— Alfleri artificial as a 
dramatist. A.— opinion of Itariottl, A. — 
Brutus, his only natural character^A.— 
nisrepresentB historical personages, 388,284 
praise of liadame de 8ta«l, extract, 984— 

Slus undisputed. A.— extract firom Brutus, 
, 987— success, secret of, 987— resem- 
blance to the Greek drama, A.— tragedy of 
Myrrha. 287, 948-peeallarltlcs of his tnge- 
diee,94S,944. 

irA^ftaH»,wm., his Grammar of the lAtln Lan- 
guage, reviewed, 407-400. 

Bwie, Robert, his influence on science and lib- 
eral ideas, 00-4he world's taUustlce to dis- 
oovereis, A.— hlrth of Robert Boyle, 01— in- 
trodoctlon of the family hito Ireland, A.— 
history of Bidhard Boyte, 61-66— Roger Boyle, 
6fr-Cromwell*l Ikyttt, A.— Richard Boyto 
eompared #lth Roger, 66 — Roger 
an author. A.— John Boyle, his wrltfaigB, 66, 
07— Richard Boyle tompared with John, 
67— rengioai views of Robert; 68 — free- 
dom from arrogance, extract, A. — dbtai- 
mdonMcrhliMrthand Bsoon'o dsMh, A.— 



his yoath, 60— soqulsltlODs, A.— established 
the Royal Society, A.— his modesty , A.— In- 
visible college, account by Dr.Wallls, extract, 
60, 70— scientific standing, 70— discoveries in 
chemistry, 71— theories of the elements, 
peripatetics and alchemists, A — argument 
against the old system, extract, 71-78— ex- 
pertanents en the chemical phenomena of tha 
atmosphere,78— his demonstrations compared 
with those of modem chemists' A.— 
air, elasticitv, weight, extract, 74<- 
—respect of Newton, 76— letter trom New- 
ton to Boyle, extract, 76, 76 — miscella- 
neous works. 76-70— theological writing 
compared with Newton's, extracts, 70, 80— 
sincerity of his theology, 81— charities, A — 
learnhig, 82— opinions of oootemporariee, 89, 
88— compared to Locke, 88— compared with 
Newton, A.— eulogy on his character. 84. 

ChatUrbm and his works, article on, 668— trag- 
edy of his life, 606, 607— parentage, A — 
dullness of his youth, A.— progrera of his 
education, 808 800— began composition, 8<^0 
— literary forgery, means resorted to, 
to, 800-811 — title of nubllitv, forgery of, 
811, 812— discontent as a law student, 818-^ 
frugal life and characteristics, 814. 816— for- 
geries of ancient Ms«., 816, 816 — pub- 
llcaitlon of the Rowlpy poems, failure 
in, 816-818 — hypochondralsm, 818 — stud 
las, A. — character of composition, A. — 
attempted snlcide, 820— resemblance to Poe, 
A.— life In London, 821, 822— takes to poU- 
lies, 828— misfortunes, A— commits suicide, 
824 — contempt of himself end mankind, 
cause of. A.— like Poe as a man, like Goetha 
aa a poet^ 826— pnsonal appearance. A.— 
controversy of literary men oh the Bowiey 
poems, 826, 826— proofs that they are mod- 
em, 896— mythical persons and language 
used, 827, 828— iBUa, review of, 898-838— 
Eclogues, merit of, 888, 834— The Revenge, 
notice of, 884, 886— other poems, 886— the 
sublime the highest order of beauty, 888, 
837. 

CitmuedUf Oliver, his character and govern' 
ment, article on, 244— character generally 
msllgned, A. — blrlh and family, 946, 24^- 
km origin refuted, 246— education fIrom 
1616-17, 947— study of law at London, A. 
—charge of dissipation, li^ustice of, 248— 
Charles First, king, A.— Qromwell be- 
comes a member or House of Oommonft, 
948, 91ft— House Intractable on the qoe* 
tion of supplies for royal expendltoresy 
MO— Cromwell's first speech, A.— dreBS,^ 
appearance, manner, A.— demands of lh» 
Klnig, 94ft— the Commons refuse theli aa^ 
sent, 960— Klng*8 orders and Ooninicna* rs-* 
sohitlons, A.— «4Joamment of the House and^ 
Itt aogorlea, A.— Khig dissolves Parliament,. 
961— cfaaraeier of John Hampden, A.- ~~ 



fhaes to pay the 
the court against 



's t«z, 969-deetolon of 
apden. A.— strlfh bo- 
and monarch, eom* 
meneement of, Ai— Ohnnwell 4t St. Ives, A. 
—people Indignant with the King,269, 968— 
Prynne's error and pcnirtmieni,288 neirPar«r 
llament,A.— etraflbrd executed, 264— rabel- 
lion In Izehmd, 216— bin proposed fbr PteU». 
SMit to control tho ttllitla, A.— Gan^irikMiiBd 



u 



INDEX. 



Bomidbeadt, A.— Klag't rislt to nu>Uaino&t, 
S56, 266— revulation,ooinmonGein«nt of ,866-^ 
Cromwell's domastlo Ufe, ib.— Cromwell a 
■oldler. S67— baUle of EdgehUl indecislye, 
ib.— CromwelPt letter to Hampden, 269^ 
Hampden's death, ik— King's mongrel Par- 
liament, 268. 2&9— siege ofrork, 26i)— battle 
of llarston Moor, Ckx>mwell immortalised, 
90O^~-Farllament paramount In the North of 
England, 261— King encouraged b/ successes 
of Uxe Marquis of Montrose. 281, 262— battle 
or Newbury Indecbire, 262— mlliUry reirai- 
tatlon of Cromwell, w03— opinion of Milton, 
it. — Parliamentary army, Fairfax assumes 
command of, 264— battle of Naseby fatal to 
Uie royalists,264,265— King's private cabinet 
opened, 266— surrender to the Scotch army, 
266, 266— Presbyterians and IndependenU, 
dlffdrenoeSfJealousles. demaDds,206^7— sun- 
drlng of the army and Parliament, %b. — rising 
of the Royalists, 268— Cromwell heads the op- 
posing army . i6.— sucoess as a leader ,268 ne- 
goiiaOons of Parliament with the King, 270— 
remonstrants aocusedof high treason, 270, 271 
—parliamentary army, materials uf, 271— 
Charles a prisoner ,872— charsed with treason, 
16.— words of CromweU, ».- trial of the 
King, 278— execution, 274— sieges managed 
by Cromwell, 274, 276— rtotory at Dunbar, 
876— triumphal entry into London, 276, 277— 
Parliament anxious to prolo ^g its existence, 
877— dlsBOluiion of Parliament by Cromwell, 
378— OouncU of State shoaeu, id.— CromweU 
Lord Protector, new Parliament, 270, 280— 
bigotry and intolerance of the Parliament. 
280— reproaches of Cromwell and loss of 
flSTor, 280, 281— plot for his asaassmation, 
881— oflbr of the crown to Cromirell,282— 
reply, declining it, 16 —aspersions of his 
character ui\)ustiflable, 283— inauguration as 
Protector, id.— dissensions of Parliament. 
284— daughter of Cromwell, proposed mar> 
risge, obstacles, 28 6 d issolution of Parlia- 
ment by CromweU, id.— oonspiracy to mur- 
der Cromwell. 280— lUnessand death, 287, 288. 
Okito,iureaourQes and destiuy, article on, 36 
—charge ag^nst the American Republic, an- 
nexatlon, i6.— denial of charge, <b.— Mexico, 
t6.^CAnada, 86, 36— Cuba, an argument 
a^dnst k>Te of annexation. 86— policy of other 
nations, ib.— resources and condition of Cuba, 
87— present non interference no reason for 
future lnaction,«6.— reasons tor United SUIes, 
Interference, 88— topography ,area,popttlatioo, 
Au— Cuba, the headquarters of early explor- 



inhabitants, A.— present popa]atiai&. 40. 41— 
dlfforeooe between the Cubans and the Mexi- 
cans or the PeruTlans, 41— Havana, descrip- 
tion by Humboldt, 42— fortress In Havana, 
48— oharitable institutions, •&.— educational 
ftaiUties comparea with those of Boston 
and New York, 44— the Helen, ib — sUte- 
BSftti of Mr. Dana, A/— 46— education in 
Ite liMuis of the government, tft^-hlstorical 
MBooiations, 46— nobility, remarics of Mr. 
Dwa, A.— wealth of Havana, 47— synopsis 
cf the receipts of ths treasory , «&.— stores in 
flavua, ft.— comparative revenue of Cuba, 
46..«rmy and navy, O.— reasons for taxation, 
«.-arMtnry taxation, 4»-fertmty of the 
•oU, A.— indutry of Cobsns, remarks of Mr. 
Du». 60-«onroea of wealth, A.— imports, 
Ar-Cobaasaplaoeor residence, 61>-^)Qtton 
tne, dsscrlptian by Dr. Abbott, 61, 62— 
Mbii«aaB.descriptkm by Abbott, 62. 68— 
~ rtcCOubaas compared with Irish sod 
«, 68 CabsM not rovotoiknlsts, Oi— 



sot down-trodden, 64 — discontents ! 
Cubans exceptions, A.— revolutions , faUorea, 
66— loyalty of free negroes to Spain, ib — 
Cuban slave-holders, tb— address, extracts, 
66— leniency towards slaves, testimony or 
Mr. Dana, A.— power of the Catholic 
Church in Cuba, denied, 67— condition cf 
Cuban priests, A.— testimony of Mr. Dana. 
«&.— Cubans not vtoiuos, A.— church and 
law at varlanoe,extract,i&.— right of Spain 
recognised, ib.—E^land and France anxious 
to secure Cuba, 60— value to Unite<l States, ib, 
comparative value of Cuba and Canada to &i«* 
laud, lb.— rassons for fiamiliarity with the Una 
character and resources of the Island, ib. 
De Ferv, M. Scheie, his Stadias of Words re- 
viewed and criticised, 806-402. 
Diaon^ Wm. HepworCh, his New America re- 
newed, 40a-414. 
Mdmea tU mt in Congress, article on, 160 safety In 
universal 'inteUigence, resolution of Mr. 
DonnsUy tb.— poorwhites and freedmen, 
ib, — petition to establish State normal 
schools, 158, 160 — bUl providing for a 
Bureau of Education, 160, 161 — import- 
ance of statistics, A.— >wants of education 
among Congressmen, note, 161, 162 — 
land grants for the purposes of edocatkm, 168 
—the new aepartment, an educattonal Jour- 
nal and superintendent of education, tb.— 
benefit to freedmen. i6.— to poor whites. 163 
— «npport of schools, money expended hi 
slave states comparea with free states, i6.— 
duty of Congress, A ^-opinion of General 
Banln, extract, t6.— education of the West ib, 
—National Dep4rtment of Education, aid to 
the older States, 164— dUBcnities overcome by 
this Department, ib. — nationalisation of edu- 
cation, meming, 166— position of education 
in Europe, 16. — education a oorreelor of the 
money-getting propensity, i6. -^Department 
of Education a tower of ubeeiViUion, «6.— 
elementary education should be sounder, 161 
necessity for elevating the position of 
teaohersi i6. — teaching in Germany, i6.— ob- 
jection in Congress to this Department, 166— 
denial that education caused the rebetliun, ib. 
—self-made men, a precedent for others, ib. 
— oivlUmtion, foundation of our institutions, 
167, 168— answer to the ohjection of time, 
168, 160. 
Jbod and its preparation, article on,84— seleotkm 
of food, dUFdrence between Instinct and ressoo 
displayed, 84,86— diversity and preparatlou in 
various nations, 86— preference the result of 
custom, 86— Jews, earliest records of cookmg, 
A.— prohibition of swine and blood, tb.— 
triekinae, ib.— E;gyptian taste, 87— Greeks 
first to elevate cookery^ tb.— traditions of 
Grecian oookvtff vaguo. ib. — roast pig of 
Athens, 88 — Athens gastronomy emigrated 
to Rome, 80— cast of Roman meals, ib.— 
modem cookery, i6. — Frouch cookery, 
remarks of siavarin, 00, 81— superiority 
of modem oooke^ over the ancients, 01— 
accidentals of a mesl treated by lAdy Morgan. 
02— Savarin's twelve cooditioos, 03— ethics of 
eating imperfectly understood, ib. — acoesscvy 

Sleasures of the uble, 04— cruelty in cooking, 
^—heroism of Vatel, 86, 86— means to pre- 
serve deUoacy ofpalata, 06— relations of 
cookery to phvsiology, 87— excess of At, in- 
jurious, 08 ge latin contains little nutriment. 
A.— dlgesUbUit/ snd nutrition, 80-sokUeis 
oompsredjVlrench and BogUsh, tb^-Mocha «k 
punch, 100— sdmlxtors of vegetables and 
neat, ibi— proportkms of animal and vegetabln 
lIVKl regnUted by oUmaU, 101— dlssau, the 
loe of violated natural laws, 108. 
thrss alsinsnts naonwiry to Ute 



conseQasn 

ioe-4hs 



USDkX* 



111 



oomblned Inbread, 104— eflbet of fbod upon th* 
cbATActer, lOfr— lack offlresh air, A.— adnl- 
teratkns, of coffee, tea, bakor't bread, plcklet, 
•agar, 106, 107. 

OoodHck, his Pictorial History of the United 
States reviewed, 403-400. 

HaifUf negro rule in, sad the lessons It teaches, 
article on, 850--chbncterl8tlcs of the negro 
moreappareut than elsewhere jA.— ignorance 
of our legislators In regard to usytl, ib.— ne- 
gro population In our country, Increase of, 
860, 860— Increase of slaves less than free 
people, 860, 361— slavery In Ha>tl abolished 
by France, 861— whites and blacks, contests 
between, 861, 862— comprooilse of the Na- 
tional Assembly, followed by adherenee to its 
first decree, 862— George lliird in fkvor of 
slavery, sentimeuts of, 868— ftench, the first 
to abolish slavery, ifr.— abolition in England, 
progress of, 868, 864— slavery enforced In 
Bajti, British invited to assist, 364— expul- 
sion of the British by TOuiseant L'Ouverture, 
Ob.— French Invaskm and Tonissant's resist- 
ance, 864, 86&— general amnesty, <bi— rebel- 
lion of the negroes, 866— arrest and death of 
TOttlssant, ib —second descent of the British, 
Of. — massacre of whites by negroes, ib — Hay- 
tlea emperor, his assasainatum, 866, 867— 
two republiCB, black and mulatto, 867— island 
united under Boyer, <b.— treaties of Charles 
Ttonth, 868— revolution, ooutests between the 
Hay tien and Dominican republics, 868, 860— 
Faustln I, empemr, court, knighthood, and 
robberies, 800 — insurrection and flight of 
Faostin, 860, 870— retrograde condition under 
negro rule, 870— exports compared with 
those of seventy-seven years ago, 871— in- 
stroctton to be ntined firom these focts, A. 

Arrn, Thomas Kibble, his poems reviewed, 
17U-184. ' 

HUAeode, E. and E.i Anatomy and Physiology, 
noticed, 100-102. 

HwnffiuTft her literature sad her prospects, 
arttele on^ 108— gain of Pmssla In the war 
with Aosuria, <b.— Influence of Hungary In 
the humiliation of Austria, 100— capture of 
Hungarians, A.— Magyars conscripts not vol- 
imieers, to.— declaration to be avenged, A. 
— eonduet of the Hungarians, lessons taught, 
110-^hopes of the Magyars revived by the 
Austro-Prusslan war, A.— literature, A.— 
poetry, 111— origin, jh — Attila, extract from 
Oibbon*s History, ib.— taifluenoe of the poetry 
of the Msgyars, 112— origin, investigations 
relatiye to, ib. — Gibbon believes them of 
Turkish origin, 118— ceneral improssioDS 
of the Ifagyars, iJb. —history of Hunnry 
from the time of Charlemagne, tb.— 
blood shed under Slgismund, 114— Albert of 
Austria, his successor, ib.— cruelty of Hun- 
garian princes, ib^^ worthy king, Mathias 
Corvlnus, 118— Msgyars tried to kiU him, 116 
—limits of Hungary prior to 1848,ib.— popula- 
tion, 117— loases after the war, ib.— ancient 
alphabet, Hunno-ScythUn, ib.— Latin intro- 
duced, ib.— claim to Oriental origin, vindi- 
cated by the language, A.— iu peculiarities, 

117, U&^Gontroversy about the German ana 
Magyar languages, ib.— test, Arabic poetry, 

118, 110— pahn awarded to the Magy*rS| 
110^— compliments of linguists, 120— litera- 
ture older than the English, tb. — opinion 
of Schlegel, ib.— theme of poetry , conquest of 
the country under the Seven Chiefs, ib.— ex- 
planation of Bev^, extract, 120,121— language 
and literature worthy of agreat people, 121 
literature in the 16th century, specimen, ib.— 
classical school, Erdosi, ftrander of, 121, 128— 
dramas, ib.— epic of merlt.ib.— ^wem resemb- 
ling Fnrkso, ib.— niladl, the first poet of the 



modem school, 128— poems pablished i 
years sfter his death, A.— qooUtkw, 128, 124 
—poems of Baday, extract, 124— Bessenycl, 
founder of the French school of Magyar poets, 
126— Zasincsy more translator than poet, ib. 
—sonnet, 12ft, 126— Anyos, 126— quotation 
from Barcsay , the poet- warrk)r,ib.— Day ka, a 
monkish poet, ib.—vlray. the Magyar Horacs, 
specimens. 126, 127— Verseghy , quotatlou, 
127, 128— ballad poetry, natlunsl songs, 12»— 
Hussar song, ib.— ballad of Lovely Lenka, 
12k), 180— Dobrentel, author of Hussar song, 
130— Kulcsey, author of Lovely Lenka, ib.— 
Hungarian poets imbuod with the ' 



spirit, 181— Berssenyl classical, ib.— poem, 
181, 182— Magyar women not regarded as 
equals of their husbands, 182— lyrio protest, 
ib.— Marcisian song, 188— Magyars a highly 
Intellectual people, u>. 

ifMuranoe, good, bad and IndUforent, artids oa, 
886, €i tea. 

JarHij Dr. E., his Phystokigy criticised, 408- 

KnewUdgef acqulaltkm of, Impeded by our legis- 
lators, article on, 184— sharing In government 
flattering to self-love, ib.— employment of 
clerks and others by professional and busi- 
ness men, ib.— legislators and their constitu- 
ents, 184, 186— liberty of the press denied, 
186— infl immatorypublioatloos li\Jurious486, 
186— shackled and licentious press, 18<^— 
republicanism favors liberty of the press, ib. 
bad legislation destructive to it.ib.— iUostra- 
tkjn of a shackled press, 186, 187— due to 
leglslatltm, manulkcture of books chemer 
abroad, 187— remedy, intelligent legislation, 
ib.— flattery of politicians, 188— fiioility of 
procuring books m Europe and America com 
pared, ib.— manufacture and Importation of 
books not In proportion to our popnlatloo, 
ib.— statistics of publicatioos, 188, 180— 
Iriatltudes of politicians, 18d— sutistla of 

Bablioattons In France contrasted wUh those of 
nited States, 140— statlsttes of publlcaUoos 
in Austria, 141— annual publications In 
Germany, %b -^England, ib.— Holland, ib.— 
Russia, 141, 14»—publloatk>ns Imported and 
exported in l*>anoe, 142— imports to United 
States very moderate, 142, 148.— American 
and European libraries compared, 148--AuUt 
of politicians, ib.— newspapers, oirculatton 
large, 144— well-oonducted papers and the 

opposite, ib.— tendency of legtslatioo, ib 

duty of legislators, ib.— common school 
system only a groundwork 6C eduo«tlflii. 
144. 146— coonectkin of legislation with cost 
of book materials, 146— support of govenw 
ment, argument of politicians, ib.— tox^s, 
voluntary donations In free countries, 146-> 
kind of taxing to be avoided, ib.— taxes of 
the Athenians, ib. — Bomans, 146, 147 — 

. taxation under Gsllgula and Nero, 147— 
United SUtes compared to Venkie, ib,^ 
with England, 147, 148— contrast between 
the British Psrliament and Congress, A.— 
postage, lb.— French taxation, 148^— compara- 
tive cost of books in America and Europe, ib. 
—protest against ths policy of our iegisiatoni 
not personal. 160. 

LawreiUku a tale of Japan, by Lady Fullerton. 
reviewecl, 184-186. ' 

Mm flower, home of, noticed, 187. 

MarUg, a summer at. noticed, 187. 

Oibem, lAughlon, his Oslvary and Ylivlnla re- 
viewed and orittoised, 416-417. 

PliifiioUmf and the lessons it teaches, artkde on, 
1 -study neglected In schools. 2— preooolons 
taxing of the bratai, ib.— knowledge gained at 
saerifloe of health, 8— value of phystologleal 
knowledge to parents, ib.— pramntkA repra . 



IV 



ncbiz. 



■enta ph7sio1og7, A.— phyitolocjr com b ined 
with physic, i a acton t mcdiclaM, t5.— ao- 
tlons of HtppocratfW «ad GcIsIob, A.— ariga- 
ment for the bath, A.— Gftlen on cold water, 
6— tfestlmony of BoerhaaTe, ifr.— Mahomet en- 
jotna daily ablations, tft.-Hcleaallnoas a aani- 
tary meaanre, 6— knowledge of phyaiology a 
guard against disease, 0, 7— experimenta to 
ascertain the relative eflbcts oT temperatore 
on birds, a—cold bath ii^arious in excess, 9 
—moist and cold seasons compared, ib.—ot- 
fiBcts of cold on different ages, 10— on the 
hamaa system, <b^--death from cold, 11— 



.^low poisoning, belief of ancients in. 889- 
art lost, a.— Tegetable poisons nsed by an- 
elents, A.— hemlock, Tarleties and action , 840, 
Ml— animal poisons, 841, 843— poisons, the 
first branch of chemistry cultivated, 842, 848 
^leagne Ibr poisoning in Rome, 848— ^mm 
Mmto, eflbcts, 848. 844— Prance, poisonbg 
in! by a marquiae dlagnlsed sa a nun, 844, 
848— government, attempts of, to suppress 
the crime, 846— medical evidence, strength 
of, to detect crime by poison, A.— eflbct of 
poison on different anhnala, 847— rwistanoe 
.of the human system to poison, indivldaal 
.Qssea of, 847-849— action of poison according 
to amount and virulence. 849 mania ftir oer> 
tain poisons, 849, 88a-dlsuse of arsenio be- 
•cause of easy detection, 8 60 ess e recorded 
by Dr. Beck» 8M, 881-H«NBio In tha ayalam, 



the result of experience, <b.— experiments on 
animals, 12, 18— theories of physlologista, 18 
—boarding-school keepers, 14— opinion of 
Stuart Mills, extract, 18— cheap profesaora, 
16— teas of health at college, A.— parents* 
duty, <b — ooUegea in Europe and America 
oompared in number and support, 17— re- 
qnlrementa of students, 17, 18— knowledge 
powerful, 18— wisdom of Ueity demonstrated 
by this study, ib.— opinion or Dr. Hoget, ex- 
iract, A.— study of animated nature attract- 
ive, A.— Ulttntration fh>m the blood. 19— ex- 
tract ttom Dr. Boget, A —force of tae blood 
In proportion tosiae, t6.— sutementof Paley, 
extract, A.— adaptation of animals to their 
elevent and work,A.— extract fkrom Dr Roget, 
•90— animalcnlM, A.— Prof . Khrenberg's ob- 
servations, 20, 21— coophytca, 21— views of 
Prof. Orant verified by Dr. Roget, 21, 28— 
sponge, 23— lepidopterus, 28— sponge com- 
pared with other animated beings. A.— 
changes in the insect tribe, A,-^Dr. Roget's 
description, M-pbenomena of birds, fb.— 
mechanism of the feather, 26, 26— hair and 
wool, 26— observations of On vler^.— atheism 
the offspring of vanity, 28, 37— argument 
against atheism, 27— doctrines of ancient 
eelebrlties regarding the origin of living be- 
ings, A -ancient works on the origin of the 
onlverae, A.— doetrlne of Harvy, A.— fnflu- 
«ioe of renowned Investigators, 28— apontaae- 
4NIS generation, A.— Redl's experiments, A.— 
teplanatlons of SpaUansal, 29— remark of 
Guvier, A.— deaeccatlon of anlmalonte, ex- 
periments of Doy4re, Ar— report of com- 
mission, 19, 80— belief of beat physiolo- 
gists, 80— opinion of MuQar. Ai— diacovenr of 
Ehrenberg, 81— science dtopels error, A.— 
Needham's pretence, 81, 82— science refates 
athei8m,-82— dlflbrencesb anlmalsand vege- 
tables, 82, 88— Maealre's proofk, comments 

PMfoiu and Polsonera, srtlcle on, 887— OMiUities 
allbrded by modem science for the detection 
of crime, 887, 888— eflbct of aconite, 888^889 



symptoiBB of. 851— cases of detaetad polaoii- 
Ing, 862-864— pruaslc acid in the system, 
symptoms of, 864, 856— cheny hmrel water, 
symptoms of, case recorded, 855, 866— car- 
bonate of lead, 857— verdigris. A.— narootia 
poisons, effecta of, 858. 

JPope, the temporal power of, article on, 289— 
bias against, owing to defect of memory and 
thoughtlessness, A.— Pius Ninth not respon- 
sible for errors of his predecessors, 289,280 
power of the Pope, sooroes of, 290 , 291 — testi- 
mony of Gibbon. 391— antiquity of, 292, 293— 
other ProteatantSuithors. testimony of, 294— 
sutementt of duiaot, 294, 295— history of 
Papal States flrom 1807 to 1538, showing bena- 
flts derived flrom the temporal power of the 
Pope, 296, 299— Napoleon's mistake In setting 
It aside. 299, 80O-«ttempt to dethrone Pina 
Ninth 801— analogy between royal powers of 
Europe and that of the Pope, 801, 802— 
expenses defrayed tnm the pontifical treaa- 
ury . extract from Soutbey , 802, 806— poaltloa 
of the Pope not a sinecure, 804, 805— analogy 
between Protestant governmeots and rule of 
the Pope, 806— denial of the right to deprhre 
him of his temporal power, A. 

PumeatimUf indeceuL article on, 150-* de- 
praved taste difllcult to distinguish trom 
avarice. A.— publications of Ckrleton, 150 
151 — novels of Balsac Introduced bj 
him, 151— previoos exposure of the attempt, 
A.— other publications evincing bad taste or 
avarice, A.— Laas Veneris, treatment bj 
London publishers, 151, 162-Garleton, tha 
exception to American publlsbera, 152— 
—critique on Swinburne, extract. 153, 168 — 
motive in taking up Laas Veneris, 158, 164 
-Swinburne immoral and a sconM* at rell- 
clon, stann, 164— compared to Qyron, na- 
Justly, 155— extract from Laos Veneris, A. — 
compared with Lucretius, A.— stanaas from 
Christmas Osrol, 156— a flbelier of women, 
A.— extract from poems, 156, 157— condemift- 
ed books, 167— praise of vicious books, 168. 

fi^orti, annual, of the OomptroUer (tar the etty 
and county of New York for 1865, 192-197. 

Baortt, Insurance, for the quarter ending Da- 
cember, 1866, 197-908. 

asRetaofy, the, reviewed and crltlolaed, 169- 
179. 

8bnr. Grace Hanghtonl, by Mtas Lse, aotload, 

am and Ita dlstanoa from the earth, article on, 
872— astronomical unit to which avecy 
stellar dlstsnoe is a proportional, A.— 
numerical value of the sun's r^*^»«^T 
necessary tn determine Its distance from 
the earth, 878 — Arlstarchus's, method 
comparing it with .the moon's distance, A.— 
difflculty of application, 878, 874— mora 
exact measurement by his a u c o eas o rs, 874— 
eatimate of Oopemicus, A.— Tycho Brahe, A. 
—Kepler's reductions founded on Brahe's ob- 
aervaticna, 8 7 6 solar parallax determined 



877— bast method for finding the parallsx J 
Mars, Prof. Alry*s, A — value of the solar 
psrailu, lA Gatl]e% dednctlona, 878— lunar 
theory, Mayer's method, A — transits of 
Venus used to determtaie the sun's panHaz, 
878, 88»-comptttatlansof Prof. Aicke, 889— 
Venus at the period of her statlonarv poiaia 
andretmgade motion, Observations by Prof. 
GiUlsa, SSS-paraOax deduced bv olbar 
methods, 884— parallax determined mora 
aoenrmte^ at the aexttraaalt of Venus, A. 
B mi ^ ii mA , rr rts wa d and crttldaad, 177-179. 



T* CoDCribatorp. 

Irticlos should be receired at least a month before the dajof publication. 

ri'Hitions from alt pirts are equally wolcomo ; thij will be accepted or rejected woMj aooording to 

I tboir merits or demerits, their suitableneas or uosuiUbloness. 

;t 

, CONTENTS OF No. XXVUl . 

X ■ " 

I 

MARCH, 1867. 
I. — Alfikri, his Life, Writings, and Influkncb. 
IL — Oliver Cromwell, his Chabactbr and Government. 
III. — ^TfiE Temporal Power of the Pope. 
rV. — Chattbrton and his Works. 
V. — Poisons and Poisoners. 

VT. — Negro Rule in Hayti and the Lessons it Teaches. 
VII. — The Sun and its Distance from the Earth. 

Vlir. iNStTRANCB, GoOD, BaD, AND INDIFFERENT. 

IX. — Notices and Criticisms. 



AO-ENTS 



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