NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. No. LXXIV. JANUARY, 1832. ART. I..lndersons Observations in Greece. Observations upon the Peloponnesus and the Greek Islands, made in 1829. By RUFUS ANDERSON, one of the Secre- taries of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. Boston. 1830. At the close of the year 1828, Mr. Anderson sailed from Boston for Malta, under the special instructions of the Pruden- tial Committee of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. Two objects occasioned the mission of Mr. Anderson to Greece, as a special agent of the hoard. One of these objects was to confer with the missionaries to Syria, who had been driven from their stations by the political disturbances which agitated the Turkish empire, and who had taken refuge in Malta. The other was to ascertain, by au- thentic information collected on the spot, what kind of efforts it was incumbent on the board to make, for the improvement of liberated Greece. The volume before us contains, in its first part, the narrative of Mr. Andersons tour of observation in the Peloponnesus and Greek islands, for the purpose of accomplishing the second object of his errand ; and, in its second part, a digest of ohservations upon the territory, popu- lation, and Government of Greece, upon the state and prospects of education, upon the Greek church, and upon the measures to be pursued by Protestants, for the benefit of Oriental churches. We have no hesitation in pronouncing this unpretending little volume to he one of uncommon interest and sterling value. It is filled with authentic information. It contains the result of a tour of observation, made by an intelligent and philanthropic VOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 1 C) ./lndersons Observations in Greece. [Jan. traveller, with assiduity, patience, good judgment, and success. The subject matter is of commanding interest; and it is com- municated in a perspicuous and unanThitious style. We read the work, in the undoubted assurance that its statements come to us untinctured with the hue of political faction ; that the author is far above the temptation of mere book-making, or dressing up for home consumption a pompous account of adven- tures abroad, injudiciously and hastily run through, in the manner of the mass of tourists. The responsible station and the character of Mr. Anderson prepare us beforehand to find the stamp of authenticity on his work, and we are not disap- pointed in the perusal. An abstract of Mr. Andersons proceedings in Greece, on the subject of education, was contained in the Missionary Herald for February, 1830. It appears from that statement, that the President of Greece, Count Capo dIsirias, received with sensibility the overtures of Mr. Anderson, as the agent of the board, on the subject of establishing and supporting schools in Greece, by the benevolent friends of that country in America. He, however, expressed a decided preference, that the means which it might be in the power of the friends of Greece to appropriate for this purpose, should take the form of a loan to the Government of Greece, to be applied by that Government, in conformity with the systematic plan, which it has adopted for the promotion of education. The President also expressed his desire to have young men, well calculated for that purpose, sent out to Greece, who should further qualify themselves at the Normal school, established at ZEgina, for the office of instruction in the Lancasterian schools of the country. It would appear, from the statement in the Missionary Herald, just alluded to, that the American board, though highly friendly to the promotion of education in Greece, by any means which the Government might think well adapted to that object, did not deem it within their competency, to make an appropriation of their funds in the way of a loan, or for a mission of teachers like that suggested. The operations of the board in Greece appear, at present, to be confined to the support of the printing establishment at ~XIalta, and to the mission of the Rev. Jonas King, to whom it is proposed to send an assistant.* The press at Malta has * Other missions are supported in Greece, by other American associa- tioas~ th~ condition of which we are not particularly acquainted with. I t532.] ~/1itderso,ts Observ(dioI?s in (Leece. 0 already, and for a long time, been very active, in fbrnisbing school books to Greece. Large editions of manuals, adapted for that destination, have been prepared and distributed, and farther eflbrts of the same kind are in progress and contem- plation. The following extract of a letter from Mr. Temple, of the 31st of May, appears in the Missionary Herald of S epte mb or. I am very glad of the arrival of the spelling~books.* I have had an application some months since, from Constantinople, for three thousand of them, and from Mr. King for one thousand. So you see this supply will soon be gone. We have printed, and are printing, the lives of Joseph, Abraham, Moses, Samuel, Esther, and Daniel, and I am now busily employed in preparing a book, to be entitled a Selection of the most important Events and Narratives, recorded in the Old Testament, for the use of the Schools in Greece. All these books, I am quite confident, are popular, and if so, they can hardly fail to be useful. We have Peter Parleys Geography translated; but we have not put it to press, because we want the cuts for it. There could scarcely be a better book on this subject for Greece, if I had all the cuts for the costumes of the different nations, & c. It aj)pears, by a note in the Herald, that the plates for the Greek translation of this popular little work, have been gener- ously presented by its author to the American missionary press at Malta. We are altogether of the opinion, that the cause of educa- tion in Greece can in no way be more effectually promoted, than by the operations of the press, in multiplying copies of school hooks. Mr. Anderson found, on his tour, that there existed the most lamentable want of books ; so much so, that in some of the Lancasterian schools, not more than a single book of any kind could be found. The more judiciously the books are l)iel)ared, the better of course it will be ; but pro- vided they contain nothing immoral or absurd, it really matters less what they are. It is the main object, to put this key of knowledge into the possession of the rising generation ; to teach them to read, and (what will follow as a necessary conse- quence) to write ; and this they may learn out of almost any * Alluding to a shipment from this country of five thousand copies ot the Alphabetarion, of which it will be remembered an edition of fifteen thousand was l)rinted at Andover. Note from Miss. Ileudd. 4 .dndersons Observations in Greece. [Jan. book. We should be disposed, therefore, to exercise a dis- creet tenderness for the national prejudices of the Greek people, in selecting and preparing the manuals to be printed for their schools. Biographical and moral selections from the Scriptures are, of course, in the highest degree fit for adoption. Judicious extracts of a similar character from the ancient his- tory of Greece xvould appeal advantageously to the patriotic pride of the present day; and, for the more especial purpose of conciliating the feelings of the Greek clergy, whose un- friendly interference with the efforts made by benevolent foreigners to promote education in Greece, has been already apprehended, we should recommend judicious use of the writings of the Greek fathers. Basil and Chrysostom would furnish abundant materials, either to be reprinted in the original dialect, or to be translated into Romaic; and might some- times penetrate where instruction of the same purport, from a Protestant source, would be received with suspicion. And this leads us to hazard a remark on a topic, which forms a subject of just regret in the work of Mr. Anderson, and in the Missionary Herald, namely, the interference of the Greek Government, in the organization of the schools, particularly in prescribing the use of prayers, in which the name of the Virgin Mary is contained, and in the introduction of pictures into the schools, as objects of religious veneration. It is of course greatly to be regretted, that such an interference should take place. But the President of Greece, an enlightened and educated man, not probably himself imbued with superstition, has deemed it necessary, in his difficult position, to make this concession to the prejudices of the Greek priesthood. Under these circum- stances, we are of opinion, with Mr. Anderson, that it does not constitute adequate ground for any discouragement or cessation of effort on the part of the friends of education in Greece. As for pictures, there is undoubtedly a sense in which their introduction into schools might be objectionable. But there is nothing which is not liable to abuse. The art of reading may be perverted to the perusal of dangerous books, and the art of w~iting employed for forgery. So pictures of saints may be made objects of idolatry. It appears that the pictures which must be suspended in the school, are either a picture of the Almighty, or of our Saviour, or the transfiguration. The first is objectionable on the score of taste, and the difficulty of embodying in a proper form, a worthy conception of the 1832.] andersons Observations in Greece. Supreme Being; but we should not regret to have a picture of our Saviour, or of the transfiguration, decently executed, in every church and every school-house in Christendom. Enlightened men in all churches, Protestant, Catholic, and Greek, would make precisely the same use of it; the unen- lightened cannot make a philosophical use of any thing. It is a very common, hut a very great error, to suppose, that, by putting out of the way of unenlightened minds particular occa- sions or subjects of erroneous conceptions, you thereby ensure enlightened and refined views on the points in question. Thus a Catholic priest might enforce his instructions on the subject of our Saviour, by exhibiting his image carved on a crucifix. A Protestant missionary would be apt to discard and reject this symbol, on the supposition that, with the Catholic, it is an object of idolatrous worship; which, however, the Catholic disclaims. But the uncivilized catechumen will neither ohtain a spiritual idea of the nature of Christianity from the Protestant, who rejects, nor an idolatrous conception from the Catholic who uses, this symhol. He forms not ideas by deduction and infer- ence. He transfers his former crude notions of things to the new subject matter. All religion must at first be taken up and conceived in the measure of the learner, not of the te~icher. Till the teacher presents it in a form comprehensible by the learner, it cannot he comprehended. If you take a mind, on a low stage of civilization, and address it only with such ab- stractions as suit a cultivated intellect, you simply waste your labor. You may charge the memory with words, words, words, but you do no more. Now if xve were called upon freely to choose the medium by which we would impart to the youth of a nation, standing precisely where the Greeks do, on the scale of civilization, a lively and affecting impression of the character of our Saviour, we do not know that we should not fix on judiciously selected pictures of scenes in his life. We admit that the use of the prayers furnished hy the Gov- ernment for the schools, in which, in an address to the Virgin i\iary, it is said, All my hope is in thee, is still more objec- tionable. It is a language which no Protestant can recommend. We presume it is taken even by the Greeks eum grano salis, and not literally, as if there were absolutely no other ohject oF spiritual hope to the Greek church. But men as well as things must be taken as we find them. Tl1e call of the school-master is not identical with that of the missionary. It may be the 6 ~~indersons Observe tio as in Greece. [Jan. duty of the latter to xvage uncomprornlslng war on the reli gious errors of the people to whom be is sent ; but the teacher, who goes to dispense the means of education, under the sanction ann with the cooperation of the Government, must, as we conceive, tolerate that Government, in all such adherence to the prevailing faith of the country, as does not require, on the l)ait of the teacher, a direct and personal sacrifice of principle. We have already observed, that a missionary establishment is supported in Greece by the American Board. The Rev. Jonas King is the missionary employed. This gentleman hav- ing taught a school with success at Tenos, has recently estab- lished one at Athens. According to a letter from Mr. Goodell, bearing date, Smyrna, the 31st of May, it appears tl1at Mr. King has opened a school at Athens, containing a hundred children, and that lie was about openin0 another. The second and third chapters of the second part of Mr. Andersons book, contain very ample and interestiub statements on the condition and l)rospects of education in Greece; hut it would be impos- sible to do justice to them, in an extract. We must refer our readers to the xvork itself. For a convenient summary view of the same subject, we extract the following statement from the last number of the Missionary Herald ; a statement, which we presume to have been prepared by the intelligent author of the work under review, and which, in its concluding remarks, coincides substantially with the opinions we have ventured to express, in a preceding page of this article. PROGRESS OI~ EDUCATION. Le Courrier de ha Grace, for February 1, (13,) 1831, which accompanied the Presidents letter, contains a brief view of the schools of instruction in liberated Greece, from which the following table is compiled. Provinces. Schools for Lancasterian teacising an- Scholars. cient Greck. i ~c sools. Scholars. Peloponnesus 19 678 2,970 The Islands 15 1,073 2,930 Western Greece, (on the con- tinent,) 1 40 329 Eastern Greece, (ditto,) . . 1 40 407 36 3.3 4 3 76 Totals 361 i,~331 6,636 1832.] ~i2ndersons Observations in Greece~ 7 The number of Lancasterian schools, in the spring of 1829, was tx enty-five; and in the spring of 1830, it was sixty-two, containing five thousand four hundred and eighteen scholars. These are all established under the auspices of the Government, and supported more or less at the public expense. There are a few private schools of both kinds; and in the Peloponnesus, there are nearly two thousand children taught to read on the old method, so called in distinction from the Lancasterian, or new method. In the old schools the books are in the ancient Greek, which, being nearly unintelligible to the youths, they learn to read, and that is nearly all. The habit, thus created, of reading without thought, is lamentably prevalent among the people of the East, and must be broken up before books will exert their proper influence. The Lancasterian schools, bringing in, as they do, new books in the vernacular tongue, and a new method of in- struction, are a happy innovation and improvement in every point of view; and should they prevail through the Eastern world, will do much towards reviving the sleeping intellect. At Egina, a central school has been established, containing one hundred and seventeen pupils, who are all instructed in the ancient Greek and the French languages, and in history and mathematics. Connected with this is a preparatory school, with two hundred and twenty-seven scholars. The orphan asylum, at iEgina, with which very many, if not almost all, of the children of these two schools are connected, contained, at the commence- ment of the present year, four hundred and seven boys, gathered from all parts of Greece. In a monastery, beautifully situated on the island of Poros, an ecclesiastical seminary was founded last autumn, with two professors, and fifteen scholars. The ancient Greek, history, logic, rhetoric, and theology, are taught, with the canons of the church, the fathers, and the method of interpreting the Scriptures. At Nauplion there is a military school, containing sixty pupils. Near the ancient ruins of Tiryns, on the plain of Argos, is a model-farm, on which are fifteen pupils, supported by Govern- ment. Six are learning the art of printing in the printing-offices of Government at Nauplion and IEgina. Sixty-five are tralnln7 in the national marine; and twenty-four in various professions and trades at Nauplion, Hydra, iEgina, and Syra. The prospects of Greece, ever since the standard of liberty was raised, ten years ago, have been in a state of constant, and often of rapid change; yet, on the whole, they have been im- proving from that day to this. Not that this is true of them with respect to the popular apprehension, but such has been the fact, 8 ./lndersons Observations in Greece. [Jan. Greece was never so likely to be an independent and respectable state, as she is at this~ moment. Indeed, so strongly is almost the whole territory fortified by nature,so abundantly is it furnished with water-power, and that easily and cheaply applied to use,so fertile are most of its valleys and plains in the neces- saries of life, and so admirably adapted is the whole country for pasturage,so without a parallel is its situation for commerce, and so numerous must commercial inducements and opportuni- ties become to the people, who are industrious on land, and en- terprising at sea ;that, let their independence only be fairly established, and they can hardly fail of taking a respectable rank in the great community of nations. There is such a quickness and perspicacity, too, in the national mind, and such an ardent curiosity, which every traveller acknowledges, and such a thirst for knowledge, evinced in the history of the educated portion of the Greeks from the year 1800 to l821, when they burst the chains of Turkish slavery,that we cannot doubt the prevalence of learning again in Greece. Let the country only be free, and wealth will flow in among the people, whatever shall he their form of Government; and those Greeks, who so liberally patron- ized schools for Grecian youth, and the works of Grecian genius, during their national slavery, and in the face of every discour- agement, may be expected to abound in such acts, when urged onward to literary eminence by a more powerful array of mo- tixivs, than ever operated upon any other people. The French nation is, at this time, exerting a considerable influence in modifying the systems of education in Greece, and that country seems to be destined to exert a still greater influ- ence. This is owing in part to the interest which the French nation has taken in the affairs of Greece. French troops liberated the Peloponnesus from the Egyptian army, which was covering it with desolation. A French scientific corps lately explored the antiquities, the geography, and the resources of the country; and Frenchmen being among the Greeks in great numbers, and always ready to impart their knowledge and render assistance, the effect, in the forming period of the national institutions, could not fail to be great. This influence is increased, and will be continued, by the fact, that a knowledge of the French language is regarded by the Greeks as an essential part of a liberal edu- cation. This opens a channel from the fountain of French lit- erature into Greece, and the Greeks are in danger of being flooded with French infidelity. French books will be more likely to he translated by Greeks, than any others. French school-hooks are believed to be the only ones, of which the Greek Government has ordered translations to be made. The 1832.] dndersons Observations in Greece. 9 Manual of Mutual Instruction, which the Government of Greece has made the exclusive rule of Lancasterian schools, is a French work, by Sarisin; and the Greeks plead the example of the French in suspending a picture of the Saviour in the schools, for the adoration of the pupils. In this point of view, as in many others, the late revolution in France is a cheering event. What- ever is now done in France to promote free and pure institutions, must exert some influence in Greece. The determination of the Greek Government to introduce pictures and idolatrous prayers into all the Lancasterian schools patronized from its treasury, as evinced in the communications of Dr. Korck and Mr. Jetter, (see number for July, page 219,) is much to be deplored. One is ready to attribute this, not to the free choice of the present enlightened head of the Govern- ment, but to the force of circumstances, which may have given the priesthood an undue influence in the councils of state. The revolution in France, the alienation of England, and the wars of Russia, can have left the President of Greece but a very feeble guaranty of his power from without; and it is natural to sup- pose that, in such circumstances, with a strong party against him in his own country, he might not think it practicable to resist the prejudice and importunity of an ignorant and bigoted, and at the same time influential, clergy. However this may be, such a construction is demanded by a proper regard for candor. And yet, with every allowance, probably nothing has been more inju- rious to the reputation of the Greek Government in tbis country, than this engrafting of idolatry upon the system of national in- struction, and making it binding by law upon every teacher of every Lancasterian school. Being not less at variance with the principles of freedom, than it is with those of religion, its speedy abrogation may with some reason be anticipated. Meanwhile the existence of such a law in reference to the Lancasterian schools belonging to the Government, is no suffi- cient reason for discouragement, nor for abandoning the field. Mr. King does certainly not so regard it. lie is earliest in the request, that he may have an associate from the Board; and Mr. Temple was never so much encouraged, in respect to the usefulness of the Greek press, as when he last wrote. It is proposed by the Prudential Committee, to furnish Mr. King with an associate very soon, who shall assist him in his plans and efforts to diffuse useful knowledge among the Greek people. Tbe piesent political condition of Greece is undecided and troubled. The President, unaided at present by tbe allied powers, and left to contend alone with the difficulties of his VOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 2 10 lindersons Observations in Greece. [Jan. position and of the country, appears to have lost his popularity. We read of an extensive spirit of disaffection, the revolt of the pL1l)ils in the central school of Igina, the protection accorded at Hy(lra to a press which the President had attempted to put down, the impeachment of the Senator Mavromichalis, chieftain of Mama, and the insurrection of his family and vassals. To what extent these disorders have proceeded, we are not apprised. They are (leeply to he regretted, not merely on account of their unfavorable influence on the progress of improvement in Greece, hut also for their sinister effect on the public mind of Europe, and the policy which the great powers may pursue toward the couatry. At this distance, we xvant the means of estimating the merits of Count Capo dIstrias administration. He is a person, xvhose individual and privnte character is pure,his manners simple,his mode of life frugal,his industry unwearied, and on his first arrival in Greece he was highly popular. His popularity appears now greatly on the wane, hut we are ahle to make very areat allowances for him; and to find the fault at least as much in the difficulties of his situation, the distress of the country, and the previously existing factions, as in his own arbitrary disposition. The work of Mr. Anderson and other authentic documents from Greece put it in our power to see the extent to which, in some cases, misconception and misstatement have gone. Mr. Anderson mentions, as a praiseworthy regulation of the Presidents Government, that he had rigidly required hoats navigating the coast with passengers, to provide them selves xvith passports, and thus he held accountable, at the place of landing, foi the safe appearance of all the passengers taken on hoard at the place of embarkation. In this way rohhery and assassination had been prevented. Such a precau- tion relative to passports, is universally adopted in all cona- tries in a state of xvar 01 of unsettled Government. We have seen great complaints in some of out journals, that the vener- able Senator Mavromichalis xvas arrested merely for leaving Napoli xvithout a passport. Now if the law required him to take one, he ought to have been arrested for breaking it. But it so happens, that lie was leaving Napoli to head an insurrec tion in Mama among his numerous family dependents; an insurrection which, at the last accounts, assumed a very serious asect, and had broken out into civil war. [tealeri Me as these dissensionS are, they may impede, but I ~32.] lndersous Obseiccef ions in Grecec. 11 cannot finally arrest the march of improvement in liberated Greece ; and when we east an eve hack over the period which has elapsed since the Revolution began, we are filled ratl1er with a(lmlration than (lespofl(lency. It is a little more than ei2ht years, since we first invited the attention of our readers to the affairs of Greece. In our journal for October, 1 823, we spread before the public of this country, the original text of the appeal of the Ivlesscnian Senate of Calarnata to the citizens of the United States, with a trans- lation of the entire constitution, which had heen adopted at Epionurus, oa the 1st of January, 1822. These documents were accompanied xvith whatever our pool ability suggested, by way of awakening the sympathy and engaging the cooperation of our countrymen in the cause of their Christian brethren in Greece. Our eflbrts were piou~tly secoulled in other palts of the Union. A warm but transitory enthusiasm was enkindled. A small subscription was raised in this uci hhorhood and other places, and a very liberal one in New York. At the ensuing session of Congress, a most poxverful and eloquent appeal in favor of the Greeks was made by our eminent fellow-citizen, Mr. Webster, and cordially supported by Mr. Clay, with a success not very flattering to the sJ)irit of our legislative councils. The Greek Revolution was at that time considered, by the ma- jority of those who expressed their opinions, as one of those wild and tumultuous movements, which are frequently taking l)laee (under arbitrary Governments, anmi invariably ending in the ruin of their authors and the increased misery of the deluded men, who have followed them. This sentiment toward the Grecian Revolution was not always unaccompanied with one of sagacious derision, for those who augured favorably of it in this country. In 1827, all affecting appeal from the eomrnallderinchlief of the Grecian army to the friends of Greece in this country, prodiueerl (mainly, in the first instance, thron ab the zealous efforts of a ph1ilanthropic individual at Philadelphia0) a returul of tIme Greek fecer, as it was commonly called, by those whose hearts are never warm but when business is brisk, or when they have slucceeded in carrying some petty point of selfish concern. This fever ran so high and spread so wide, that, under its excitement, seven or eight eargos of food and elotImin~ Matthew Carey, Esq. 12 .lnderso ns Observations in Greece. [Jan. were sent to Greece; and contributed of course to save a portion of her destitute population from perishing by want. These contributions xvere the offering, in many cases, of those who entertained faint hopes of the successful issue of the revo- lutionary struggle in which the Greeks were engaged; and in some instances it was expressly stipulated, that they were in no degree to take the form of military supplies. Proceeding, however, on general princi ples,the impossibility of utterly subduing the Greeks, which the conduct of the war had already demonstrated,the manifest absurdity, on the part of the Euro- pean allies, of co-operating in a train of events, which xvent to build up Turkey into a military power of the first order,the expediency of healing this inflamed and raging wound in the very heart of Europe,and the daily growing and concen- trating power of public opinion all over the world, we did venture in our number for July, 1827, to foretell an inter- ference on the part of the allied powers; guarantying to the central portion at least of Greece an independent Government, under their joint protection. At this period the troops of Ibrahirn Pacha were in the Morea, the undisputed masters of the country, and it xvas admitted to be out of the power of the Greeks to expel him. It happened, however, though this fact was not then known, that the convention between the allied powers had already been concluded, by which the pacification of Greece was resolved on. The Sultan refused to accept the proffered mediation of the powers. Ibrahim violated the laws of the armistice, rather imposed upon him than concluded with him by the allied admirals; and these honest naval command- ers, interpreting for themselves the spirit of their orders, and finding nothing in the letter of them exactly applicable to the case, undertook, by the untoward event of Navarino,to destroy the Turkish fleet. The temporary occupation of the Morea by a French army, and its evacuation by Ibrahim soon fol- lowed, and thus in seven years, (the term of duration of our own war,) and by the immediate co-operation of an army of that power, to which we xvere indebted for services so all- Important in our revolutionary contest, the Greek Revolution was brought to a happy close; and the sanguine hopes of its earliest friends more than justified. Then followed the war between Turkey and the Porte ;the Danube,the Balkan are passed on one flank ;Armenia penetrated on the other, and the gates of Constantinople threatened, and the Turkish 1832.] .dndersons Observations in Greece. 13 power broken forever. Such a sequel as this seemed all that was wanting, to put the seal on the permanence of Grecian independence. From this period we are free to admit, that our eager inter- est in Grecian affairs has declined. The election of Count Capo dIstrias, the proffer of the crown to Leopold and its refusal by him, and the troubles which have beset the subse- quent administration of the President, though events unques- tionably of a high order of political curiosity, have seemed to us as nothing, compared with the great consummation that was at stake, in the revolutionary struggle. To the importance of that struggle, justice was not done at the time, by the majority of men in the civilized portion of the world, and justice is hardly done to its event, even now, and by the friends of Greece. The contests, factions, and dissensions, which dis- tract that country, are a fruitful topic of declamation to the enemies of their cause. The acquiescence of the people, (if acquiesce they did,) in the proffer of the throne to Prince Leopold, disgusted many of their friends. We have never been able to regard these matters as of great abiding moment. The evils are temporary; and the remedy is surely and rapidly overtaking them. Let us consider a moment, what we have gained in the suc- cessful result of the Grecian Revolution. In ancient times, the shores of the Mediterranean, all round, were civilized after the ancient type, flourishing, and happy. In this happy region (in many respects more advantageously situated for a concentrated and mutually re-acting condition of improvement than any other part of the globe,) the human mind was developed, in many of its faculties, to an extent and with a beauty, never surpassed and scarcely ever equalled~ Greece was the metropolis of this great intellectual republic; and through her letters and her arts, gave the law of civilization to Asia Minor and Syria, to Egypt and Africa, to Italy and Sicily. What a state of the world was it not, when all around this wide circuit, wheresoever the traveller directed his steps, he found cities filled with the beautiful creations of the archi- tect and the sculptor; marble temples in the purest taste ;~ statues whos~ miserable and mutilated fragments are the models of modern art ;wheresoever he sojourned, he found the schools of philosophy crowded with disciples, and heard the theatres ringing with the inspirations of the Attic Muse, and 14 [Jan. ~1ndersons Observations in Greece. the forum thronged by orators of consummate skill and classic renown! We are too apt, in forming our conceptions of the extent of the Grecian civilization, to confine our thoughts to one or two renowned cities,to Athens alone. But not only all Greece, but all the islands,Sicily and Magna Gra~cia around all their coasts,the remote interior of Asia Minor and Syria, even up to the Euphrates,the entire course of the Nile, UI) to its cataracts, and Libya far into the desert, were all filled with populous and cultivated cities. Cities xvhose names are scarcely heard of, hut in an index of ancient geography, abounded in all the stores of art, an(l in all the resources of instruction, in the time of Cicero. He makes one of the chief speakers in the Orator say, At the l)resent day, all Asia imitates Menecles of Alabanda and his brother. Who was Menecles, and where was Alahanda? Cicero himself studied not only under Philo the Athenian, but Milo the Rhodian, Menippus of Stratonice, Dionysius of Magnesia, Ischylus of Cnidus, and Xenocles of AdramytthMn. Forgotten names, perished cities, schools of art and eloquence, of which the memory is scarcely preserved! An extraordinary subversion of things took place. The barharous nations of Northern and Eastern Asia issued from their deserts and swept the greater part of this civilization away. Much of what was spared by them fell hefore the kindred barbarism of the fanatics of Arabia, the followers of Mahomet, not however without some indemnity in the substitution, under the caliphs, of a new school of civilization of no mean excel- lence. But this was substantially hostile to the pre-existing arts of the Grecian stock,was embodied in an Oriental lan- guage, and engrafted on a religion at war with that which had taken root in Europe. It cannot, therefore, be considered as having preserved Europe and the west of Asia from the gradual inroads of intellectual decay and ruin. A few centuries only in fact passed away, before the empire of the Caliphs was broken down by the Turks. The new arts and literature of the Arabians declined with the dynasty of Mahomet; and the final result is what we witness at the present day, on the shores of the Mediterranean. In Italy, France and Spain, the ancient civilization has been in a good degree restored under the influ- ence of an intellectual religion. On the opposite coasts of Africa, Egypt, Syria, and Asia Minor, the essentially barbarous spirit of the Mahometan superstition has brought the deepest 1832.] lndersons Observations in Greece. night of darkness over the ruins of the ancient abodes of refine- ment. Regions once populous support but a scanty population. Wretched villages take the place of flourishing cities. Coin- ruerce and wealth have vanished, and with them liberty and refinement; till countries once the boast of our race have be- come its scandal and reproach; not merely on account of their present condition, but from the contrast with their former state. But of all the countries which thus relapsed into barbarism, those in which the Greek religion and with it the Greek tongue prevailed, and especially Greece itself, were the most pitiable spectacle. These relics of other times and better things gave a keener edge to present degradation. They had the Chris- tian religion without any of its civilizing efficacy. On the contrary, it exposed them to insult and persecution. They had a language preserving no mean portion of the classic dialect of Greece, but of no efficacy except to mark them out as a race distinct from their masters. An oppressed homo- geneous population, living under a Government which bears hard on all classes, is indeed entitled to the sympathy of all the friends of liberty; but the most deplorable condition of human society is that, where the community is broken up into two distinct casts,n]aster and vassal,conqueror and con- quered. The condition of the Greeks was much more calami- tous than that of the Saxons after the Norman conquest. The conquerors of the Saxons possessed the same religion, and a language not entirely unlike that of the subdued people. The Turks were bound by no such ties of affinity to the Greeks; but brought with them into the Christian countries, which they overran, the elements of permanent and irreconcilable hostility, moral, social, and intellectual. Thus at a moment when the rest of Christendom was re- viving, and that through the agency of the fugitives from Greece, Greece herself was doomed to the curse of a foreign and barbarous domination, and placed wholly out of the sphere of the regenerating process, which commenced in Europe ia the middle of the fifteenth century, and which has brought all its other parts to the condition in which we now find them. The question then that presented itself, when the Greek revo- lution broke out was, as to the probability, that this renowned corner of Durope, the original metropolis of art and letters, would be enabled to throw off the incubus, which had op- pressed her so long, and again take her place in the European 16 ./lndersons Observations in Greece. [Jan. family. Could the dreary glacier, which for centuries had cov- ered her, be melted away, and her fair and fertile fields again be thrown open to the sun? The question was certainly interesting, as it respected Greece herself. She could never, of course, be what she had once been. She never could be the single source of illumina- tion to a world, dark but for the rays proceeding from her. The rest of the world is now sitting in day-light. But she could be recovered out of the state of barbarous degradation to which she had been reduced. She could be relieved of the horde of barbarians, which garrisoned her strong places and plundered her rich domains. She could regain the liberty of conscience; be brought back to a healthy sympathy with Europe, and to a convenient and profitable intercourse with the civilized nations of the world. Her shores might be made easily accessible to the throng of travellers,themselves by no means the least active missionaries of civilization. She might, like her own Delos, be made to emerge from beneath the foul and poisonous waters of the dead sea of barbarism; she might, like the lost sheep, be gathered back to the fold. As this was the only part of Europe, where the Turks had suc- ceeded in keeping foothold, it was a question of just and lively curiosity, to know if this great effort to expel them would suc- ceed or miscarry. But when we consider that the removal of the Turks from Greece, was to be looked upon only as the first of a series of auspicious changes, destined to recover the shores of the Med- iterranean to the domain of civilization, it assumes a higher importance. If we may regard it in this light, it will become an era in European history, second only in interest to the conversion of the nations of Europe to Christianity. The ex- isting social system of Europe, as founded on one standard of public law, dates from that conversion. And perhaps we do not go too far in saying, that merely as a political engine, its force was now nearly spent. We mean, that ~t does not appear that in the regular course of things, any farther political changes were to be produced in Europe, by the introduction of Christianity as a new religion. In fact, the civilization of Russia and her elevation to the rank of a leading power, is to be regarded as the last great political result of the Christiani- zation of Europe. There are no othcr barbarous nations of the European stock. 1832.] dndersons Observations in Greece. 17 Either then the political progress of civilization must have come to a stand, or a new effort of a different kind must -be made; and the restoration of those regions, over which the Turkish barbarism had extended itself, appears to be this effort. The success which has attended it has, thus far, been truly auspicious, and beyond the most sanguine hope. A very ample domain in Greece is liberated, and it requires no power of prophecy to foresee, that the residue of European Turkey will soon he emancipated. Wallachia and Moldavia will, no doubt, very shortly be attached to the Russian,Servia, Bosnia, Sclavonia, and Dalmatia, to the Austrian empire. Should the Grecian State prosper, it will, no doubt, receive a considerable extension in Rumelia. While these events have been happen- ing or preparing in European Turkey, a most astonishing, and as yet little appreciated event, has occurred on the Barbary coast; we mean, of course, the subversion of the regency of Algiers and the colonization of its dependencies, by the French Government. The Barbary regencies, it is well known, are nominally feudatories of the Ottoman Porte; and actually independent military despotisms, administered by a handful of Turks, annually recruited in the Levant, and holding the native population in abject slavery. In the time of the Greeks and Romans, Africa, as we have already hinted, w~ts full of popu- lous, wealthy, and polished cities. It was one of the granaries of the Roman empire. Mr. Anderson, in the Introduction to the work before us, breaks out into the following just and pertinent exclamation How glorious, comparatively, was the State of Northern Africa in the age of the great Augustine.* The light of the gospel then shone upon an extent of country, stretching more than two thousand miles from the Atlantic eastward, and from the Mediterranean, two hundred and even five hundred into the interior. Within this space, were more than four hundred and fifty bishoprics, each of which might embrace three score or four score towns and villages; and if each town and village con- tained its church, which is probable, there were more than thirty thousand Christian churches in Northern Africa. But these lights have all been extinguished, and with them the lights of science, civilization, and liberty. - * Augustine was Bishop of Hippo Regius, on the African coast. VOL. xxxLV.No. 74. 3 18 ./Indersons Observations in Greece. [Jan. The chief of the barbarous principalities on that coast, bar- barous itself, and, by its too long tolerated system of piracy, a powerful agent for perpetuating barbarism in the Mediter- ranean, is now subverted. The Government of a Christian people, one of the first civilized powers in Europe, is now es- tablished in Algiers. Its just and equal laws have taken the place of a petty tyrants caprice; arid with tolerable discretion on the part of the French Government, we see not what is to prevent a rapid regeneration of regions so highly favored by nature, and once so highly improved. All this is the work of the last ten years. None but the enthusiastic dared, ten years ago, to predict even the emancipation of Greece. To have added to that prediction a prophecy, that the French Government would in ten years be established in Algiers, would have been deemed wild extravagance. What is to hinder the progress of this glorious work of national regeneration? The Turkish monarchy is crumbling to pieces. It has no cohesive principle. The pachas, who govern the different provinces of the Turkish empire, possess no moral strength; no strength derived from national senti- rnent. They are never (we may say) natives of the provinces subjected to them, except in a few cases of fortunate usurpa- tion, like those of Ali Pacha of Albania and the sons of the Bey of Egypt. It will now be in the power of the civilized States of Europe, whenever a continental peace will enable them to act in concert or without collision, successively to take possession of every part of the Turkish coast of the Medi- terranean, and hold and colonize it at their pleasure. This will not be the work of a year, probably not of a generation, but it is begun and it will go on. It will be accelerated by the decline of the colonial system in America. Probably one cause of the duration of the Turkish power in Europe, and the islands and shores nearest Europe, was the diversion of the energies of the European powers across the Atlantic. The eyes of France, England, and Spain were fixed, not on the Archipelago, but on the Antilles. Thitherward was the march of adventure and ambition. The independence of the United States and of the Spanish and Portuguese colonies, will gradu- ally turn the tide in another direction. The emancipation and restoration of Greece; the establishment of the British power in Malta and the Seven lonian Islands; the opening of the Black Sea by the Russians; and the occupation of Algiers by 1832.] ./lndersons Observations in Greece. 19 France, will give a new direction to the politics of Europe; and the expulsion of the Turks from the remainder of their possessions in Europe and the Mediterranean, will probably follow in the train of events. In what order, or by what im- mediate agency, these events will take place, it would be fan- tastic to attempt to anticipate; but that they will be brought about, there is the strongest probability. Meantime, tbere is to be carried on a great work of im- provement in Greece, of which the foundations are laid as deep and solid, as those of the political system of Europe. The independence of Greece is guarantied by the leading continental powers, and cannot be shaken. The restoration of that country from the frightful depression into which it had sunk, though it may be less rapid than the sanguine philan- thropist could wish, is, nevertheless, sure. The delays inci- dent to the refusal by Prince Leopold of the Greek crown, that spoiled child of fortune, who finds it harder to avoid a throne than Napoleon did to gain one,have kept the country in an unsettled state; and a spirit of discontent and uneasiness under the administration of Count Capo dIstrias, as we have observed above, is spreading. But this is of little moment. The country may remain disturbed for a generation; and if so, the happiness of a generation will be materially impaired. But a great onward step in that policy,the policy of na- tional improvement,which comprehends ages in its grasp, has been taken, and cannot he retraced. More than this; though the hopes of ardent men may be disappointed, though the Grecian commonwealth may not start up at once, full- formed, a perfectly organized and tranquilly administered State, feared abroad and orderly and prosperous at home, yet the great and blighting curse of the Turkish domination is re- moved, Christianity is established, the press exists, though restrained,private justice is administered on a code of law, in accordance with the jurisprudence of civilized Europe, the enterprise of other countries is attracted to this new field of adventure and industry, and schools are founded in every part of the country. Out of these elements good must spring. There is no ground for fear or anxiety, as to the result. Even under the Turkish domination, the commercial marine of Greece amounted to six hundred sail. What must it not become in the new state of things, when property, instead of being studiously concealed, as a source of persecution and 20 .Indersons Observations in Greece. [Jan. extortion to its possessors, will now be pursued, from all the motives which prompt in other countries to the accumulation of wealth? There were schools and academies in Greece before the revolution; and a large number of Grecian youth were annually sent into Western Europe for their education. What effects may not be hoped for in the free State, when, in addition to these means of improvement, enjoyed without re- straint, the Greeks shall possess the advantage of the institutions, which are already in a course of establishment in every part of their country? A considerable number of travellers visited Greece, in spite of the enormous expense, and in some cases, the dangers of travelling in that country, while it remained subject to the Porte. It has now become, and will continue more and more, the favorite resort of travellers from every part of Europe and America. In a word, we are quite willing that the Greeks should take their own time to settle their Gov- ernment, if the allied powers will allow them to do it; and if, in the interval, they suffer some of the evils of anarchy, they will the more probably adopt an efficient system. Had the United States adopted a Constitution in 1783, it would not have been so good a one as that of 1789. The refusal of Rhode Island to grant the five per cent. impost convulsed the country, and drew down upon the little State the bitter re- proaches of all America. To that refusal, we owe the Federal Constitution. The present dissensions in Greece are des- tined, we trust, to teach permanent lessons of political wisdom to her ardent factions and inexperienced citizens. But why, we shall be asked, all this zeal about the emanci- pation and the improvement of Greece? Why this enthusiasm to build up, on that particular spot, a free and a prosperous State? It is conceded, that the attempt to restore the Greeks to their ancient ascendancy in the world, would be the idlest dream of classical fanaticism. Why then attempt to do any thing with them? To these questions, which probably express the feelings even now of a majority of men, on the subject of Grecian affairs, we shall return a brief answer. We desire, hope, and attempt to promote the improvement of Greece, because a combination of circumstances exists on her soil, which is necessary for the foundation of a free State; and without which such a State cannot be founded. We doubt not there is a soil more fertile in the Sandwich Islands and Australasia. There too is sandal wood, and the bread 1832.] .dndersons Observations in Greece. 21 fruit, and a tropical climate. There are delightful spots on the shores of the sea of Azof, and beyond the Caspian; and we doubt not a fine territory for a settlement might be selected in the interior of Brazil, without encroaching on Dr. Francia~ But this is not enough to create the foundation of a State. There must be a strong moral principle animating the popu1~- lion already existing on the chosen spot, or attracting to it an oppressed and persecuted people looking out, like the fathers of America, for a new abode. Such a principle exists in Greece. The renown of its inhabitants in ancient times enters largely into that principle, though not exclusively. It is not that the Greeks for themselves, or their friends for them, expect to revive the glories of Miltiades and Plato, but the consciousness of treading the very spots, which were trod by these men and their countrymen, and the actual survey of the shores, the mountains, and the rivers immortalized in their writings, or by their exploits ;the aspect of the beautiful ruins of the wonderful fabrics of their fathers; the substantial iden- tity of their language with the language of classic Greece; the re-action upon themselves of the enthusiasm of the world around them,all these constitute a moral principle, adequate with other influences to form a bond of union to a people. What, in the name of Heaven, brought our fathers to New England; protected and preserved them here, and built them up into the prosperous commonwealth, of which we are citi- zens? Was it the inviting aspect of our coast, frowning with its black and inhospitable rocks, except as they were covered deep with wintry glaciers and overhanging snows? Was it the tempting expanse of pine woods; or the weary waste of in- tervening seas? Was it honor, adventure, or wealth, that attract- ed the pilgrims? No, but in the utter failure of all the mere natural temptations; in a destitution, like that of the tomb, of all the lights and comforts of mere worldly existence, there was a moral principle at the foundation of the enterprise, which piloted the forlorn hope of our fathers across the Atlantic~ It is this principle, which has given vitality to the cause of Greece at home and abroad at home, in the hearts of her children; abroad, in the hearts of her friends. This sup- ported her population under the iron mace of the Turkish des- potism; and cheered her friends under the sneers and evil auguries of those statesmen, who draw their rules of policy exclusively from the head. Operating in both these ways, it 22 ./lndersor& s Observations in Greece. [Jan. was the indomitable force, with which the war of opinion was carried on and brought to its successful issue in their favor. How few years have passed, since it was currently believed and proclaimed, that the cause of Greece was desperate ; that she was already sacrificed and lost! Such was perhaps the general opinion, at the time when the armies of Egypt were ranging unopposed through the Morea, the Turkish fleet encircled its coasts, and her wretched inhabitants had no allies, but her derided and enthusiastic friends in Europe and America. In two years, that fleet was annihilated by the squadrons of three great rival powers, which never before all coalesced for one object; those armies, like a congrega- tion of felons, were quietly deported to the banks of the Nile from whence they came; and to this day, and after all the developements, which time and the explanations of Ministers and parliamentary inquiries have thrown upon the subject, there is no intelligible solution of the mysterious manner, in which the interference of the allies was begun, pursued, and accomplished, but that which ascribes it to the irresistible agency of the public opinion of the world. That public opinion had its chief foundation in the historical associations of Greece. God forbid that we should count for nothing the spectacle of a Christian people struggling for liberty, independent of any associations with olden time. Nor do we say, that there is no other natural source of the moral principle, on which a nation is to be reared up. We say only,that the national descent of the Greeks is such a principle. It has sufficient energy for the purpose; that energy has been evinced, and warrants us to look forward, as we do, to the perfecting of the work, which has already so auspiciously begun. Education will be one of the most efficient agents of its farther promotion. The good which will be effected by spreading the means of education in Greece, is inestimable. There is no moral calculus, by which it can be estimated. A village school on one of the islands; a spelling-book in the recesses of Arcadia; the labors of one judicious teacher in the most humble corner of this field, at the present juncture of the fate of Greece,taking her affairs at this tide, which is now rolling in, swelling up, and leading her on to civilization, liberty, and her long lost arts,xnay be the instrument of work- ing out greater and brighter good than we can set forth or 1832.] Reform in England. 23 conceive. The names of the learned Greeks are embalmed in history who fled from their country on the capture of Con- stantinople, and brought the philosophy and literature of their forefathers into Italy. A like renown awaits the benevolent and pious men, who shall take the lead in carrying back to Greece the improvements of Western Europe and America. ART. II.Reform in England. The Debate in the House of Commons on the Reform Bill. The more we contemplate the subject of reform in Europe, the more important does it seem to us. In our number for July, we submitted to our readers our impressions upon some general topics, connected with the present aspect of things, on the other side of the Atlantic. The state of the reform question in England, as the most interesting and important of these topics, received a proportionate share of our attention. We approached it with a diffidence, inspired by the magnitude of the subject,our distance from the stage on which the great drama is acting,and our consequent ignorance of many of the local details and secret springs of the movement. But its momentous character grows upon us, as we contemplate it. It tasks the apprehension, it excites the imagination. We cannot sit still, and behold unmoved this mighty operation in human affairs. The experimentum in co~pore vili, the fate of East Retford, and Grampound, and Cricklade, and Aylesbury, might be discussed here without emotion. But this is the experimentum crucis. It is an operation of life or death on a mighty empire. The question of reform in England is an American question; and this is among the strongest of the motives, which lead us to discuss it. Our greatest commercial connexions are with England; half of our foreign commerce is carried on with her; and much of the remainder is affected by the state of her markets. As the great emporium of the world, whatever powerfully affects her is felt by us. An English pamphlet now before us uses a language on this subject, which justifies us in this view of it.* Our commercial readers will recollect * The truth is, that this reform question is pressing at the present moment like an incubus on the industry and internal commerce of the

1832.] Reform in England. 23 conceive. The names of the learned Greeks are embalmed in history who fled from their country on the capture of Con- stantinople, and brought the philosophy and literature of their forefathers into Italy. A like renown awaits the benevolent and pious men, who shall take the lead in carrying back to Greece the improvements of Western Europe and America. ART. II.Reform in England. The Debate in the House of Commons on the Reform Bill. The more we contemplate the subject of reform in Europe, the more important does it seem to us. In our number for July, we submitted to our readers our impressions upon some general topics, connected with the present aspect of things, on the other side of the Atlantic. The state of the reform question in England, as the most interesting and important of these topics, received a proportionate share of our attention. We approached it with a diffidence, inspired by the magnitude of the subject,our distance from the stage on which the great drama is acting,and our consequent ignorance of many of the local details and secret springs of the movement. But its momentous character grows upon us, as we contemplate it. It tasks the apprehension, it excites the imagination. We cannot sit still, and behold unmoved this mighty operation in human affairs. The experimentum in co~pore vili, the fate of East Retford, and Grampound, and Cricklade, and Aylesbury, might be discussed here without emotion. But this is the experimentum crucis. It is an operation of life or death on a mighty empire. The question of reform in England is an American question; and this is among the strongest of the motives, which lead us to discuss it. Our greatest commercial connexions are with England; half of our foreign commerce is carried on with her; and much of the remainder is affected by the state of her markets. As the great emporium of the world, whatever powerfully affects her is felt by us. An English pamphlet now before us uses a language on this subject, which justifies us in this view of it.* Our commercial readers will recollect * The truth is, that this reform question is pressing at the present moment like an incubus on the industry and internal commerce of the 24 Reform in England. [Jan. the great temporary stagnation produced in our trade with France, by the brief commotions of the three days. It was at one period impossible to dispose of the best bills on Paris; no one was willing to execute an order from France; and the price of our staples was immediately affected. The influ- ence of that revolution on this country may be estimated by the fact, that the export of cotton to France, which in the year ending in September, 1830, was two hundred thousand seven hundred and ninety-one bales, sunk, in the year ending Sep- tember, 1831, to one hundred and twenty-seven thousand seventy-nine; a decline of one-third. But we ought, perhaps, to be ashamed to resort to such an illustration of our assertion, that this is an American question. Any such effect on commerce, will, except in the event of a convulsive and bloody revolution, be temporary. But our politi- cal relations with Great Britain are so numerous and intimate, that whatever changes the nature and permanently modifies the action of the British Government, is very important to us. From the time that our continent was first settled till 1815, our politics were to a great degree affected and decided by the state of things in England; and this almost as much after the Revolution as before. The new position of the world since the downfal of Napoleon, has happily rendered our politics much more independent of Europe in general, and England in particular. But any thing, which should essentially disturb the action of England on the politics of the world, (and this, as we shall endeavor to show, will be the inevitable consequence of the reform of Parliament,) would be almost as promptly felt in this country as in England herself. Then, too, it is to be rememhered, that we are completely surrounded by British colonies. We have the West Indies on our front, and the continental colonies on our flank and almost in our rear. An idle controversy, relative to the form in which our trade with these colonies shall be carried on, has, for the country. All great private undertakings are suspended. The opulent of every class, (but those more especially who derive their incomes from the funds, from the clerical or legal professions, or from any department of the public service,) oppressed with a growing sense of the insecurity of their resources, are limiting their expenditure very generally to articles of urgent necessity; and that instinctive propen- sity to hoard the precious metals, the sure forerunner of great national convulsions, is already beginning to operate on prices, as well in this country as over the continent. 1832.] Reform in England. 25 last five years, had a very considerable influence on the domes- tic politics of the United States. It requires no sagacity to perceive, that any~ thing which should seriously affect the exist- ing organization of the British Government at home, would, in its effect on these our colonial neighbors, give rise to the most important and agitating questions in this country. Besides all this, the general position which England stands in, as a great first-rate power, is to be confirmed or changed in the issue of the present controversy. She now claims the right to interfere in every great question of international politics, whoever may be the more immediate parties. As late as May, 1830, we find Mr. Huskisson, who adopted, with the political system of Mr. Canning, little of his ambition and less of his tempera- ment, declaring that England, as the first maritime power in Europe, would not suffer the United States to bring under their dominion a greater portion of the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, than they now possess. This was said apropos of some speculations in the American newspapers, on the desira- bleness of the purchase of Texas by the United States; a province, which, in the opinion of many of our soundest states- men, was legitimately included within the limits of Louisiana, and which stretches for a vast extent along our south-western frontier. We think it very probable, that, on the evening when Mr. Huskisson permitted himself this menace, the British ministry had received the advice of some new kingdom added to their Eastern empire. We shall have occasion, in the course of our remarks, to express the opinion, that, with the adoption of the proposed new principle of organization in the British Government, this extensive interference in foreign politics will both from necessity and of choice cease. The event of the measure pending in Parliament is, of course, in the highest degree uncertain, and to us beyond the reach of confident conjecture. Since our former remarks were sub- mitted to the public, a House of Commons which appeared too nearly balanced on the question, has been dissolved, and a new one, with a great supposed accession of strength in favor of reform, has been elected. The issue of this appeal to the electors showed the popular favor with which the bill was re- garded; and it was supposed that, on the organization of the new Parliament, it would be urged with rapidity through a consenting House. But the details of the bill have been attended with perplexity and embarrassment. It has been voL. xxxlv.No. 74. 4 26 Reform in England. [Jan. forced to run the gauntlet through the ranks of officious friends and relentless foes. Amendments both bonafide and vexatious have obstructed its way. It has been felt, at every step, that while the bill professed a remedy on principle of enormous evils, the remedy itself was laboring under a portion of the very evil to be remedied,and that without the apology of prescription. It will probably be found in the practical operation of the bill, should it, as it now stands, become a law, that of itself, and unattended with other great measures of reform in the consti- tution and administration of the country, not one of the evils of which the people most complain will be remedied, while the bill itself stops far short of its own principles. In this state of things, a warfare truly terrific has been waged against it by some of the most powerful periodical presses. It is attacked as a whole and in detail. The objections against the entire system are pressed forward to outweigh specific im- provements; and the inconveniences of the detail are arrayed and exaggerated in prejudice of the system. It is but a few years, since it was deemed impossible even for a tory ministry, to fight through the House of Peers, the transfer to large towns of the franchise of single boroughs, convicted of the most profligate venality. What is to be expected n6w, xvben boroughs are to be disfranchised by the wholesale, without any specific charge, and the representation of towns and counties created as it were de novo, and all this by a whig ministry, who, though carrying with them the majority of the community and of the writers for the daily press, must, from the constitution of Eng- lish society, be opposed by a great proportion of the men of high education and literary influence in the country? Nor is the vehemence, with which the Reform Bill is assailed, matched, as it seems to us, with corresponding ardor and con- cert of defence. As far as we can judge beyond the Atlantic, the fervor of reform is somewhat abated on the part of its friends, and pride of opinion may possibly come in for a portion of the enthusiasm which still remains. No man can tell what he will think of a subject, till it has been not only solemnly but passionately argued. He can weigh it solemnly in his own mind and his own closet, but the heat of angry debate opens and expands the argument, and shows its joints, and seams, and cracks. The reformers in England appear to us some- what tired of the project; they wish it to obtain, but they are less sanguine of its successful operation, and more awakened 1832.] Rejbrrn in England. 27 to its difficulties. They fell in love with it at a distance, as an ideal perfection. When it is practically handled, it is found a thorny and perplexing matter of fact. They find that they are making themselves responsible for the happy issue of a thou- sand doubtful experiments, and buying with certain odium a very uncertain reversion of praise. Should we venture an opinion, as to the precise state of mind with which the ministers regard the bill, we should say they would not lament to have it defeated by a small majority. They would then go out in a good cause, claiming the merit of all the benefits which would have flowed from the adoption of their measure, and ascribing all the evils and troubles that exist or may arise to its rejection. They are not men, judging of course on general principles of human nature, seriously to wish to take on their shoulders the re~pon sibility of a great revolution, which they probably begin to be- lieve their project will prove. A revolution may be headed by men of two classes. One class consists of those who are fired by intense ambition,who look upon the country, its laws and institutions, and the welfare of its citizens, as the steps by which they are to mount to guilty and bloody greatness. The C~sars and Cromwells, xvho feel the passions which civil war enkindles, and are willing to use the means which it furnishes, are the men to lead on a revolution of this kind. It is they at least, whoever may commence it, that are too apt to break in and carry it on.An outraged, oppressed, and exhausted people, trained in the school of liberty, but denied its rights, after years and generations of suffering, will follow the patriotic men, who, through self-denial and personal sacrifice, lead them to a revolution of the second class. The present ministry of England fall into neither of these classes; nor do they regard the situation of affairs, as resembling that, in which a revolution of either character is to be brought on. They are able and accomplished men of wealth and education, happily situated in life, enjoying,whether in office or out,some of the most enviable positions in society, with every thing to risk and noth- ing personal, to gain, by a great change; and though they take up the question as one of enormous evils requiring a strong remedy, they do not admit the evils to require, nor do they propose to apply, the remedy of revolution. Should it be found or made to assume that character, they are not of the class of men elected to conduct it. It is not from elegant saloons, well furnished libraries, luxurious cabinets, nor princely 28 Refrrm in England. [Jan. villas, that the spirit of radical reform ever did or ever will march forth, with decision in his port, and fearful change, per- haps convulsions, war, and death in his eye. That spirit issues, as the case may be, from the conquerors tent, the dark cham1~vs of fanaticism, the comfortless garrets of able, needy, and reckless adventurers, or the humble ahodes of a long- suffering and exasperated people. Prosperous gentlemen must content themselves with amateur reform. Grand changes in the constitution of ancient monarchies,great and radical re-~ form,may be contemplated and worshipped at a distance as a mild and genial star. But as it draws near, it swells and reddens, and throws out its streaming terrors across the firma- ment; and when it comes hiazing down from its aphelion, heaving the tides to the mountain tops, changing the zones, unfixing the poles, and melting the heavens with fervent heat, it is a season, when none but the Titans and demigods of the moral and intellectual world may go forth to lay the foundations of the new creation amidst the wrecks of the old. Our last accounts from England have carried the Reform Bill not quite through the Committee. When it has passed the House of Commons, it is to stand the trial of the Lords, where but last year, Mr. Huskisson despaired of ever procuring a concurrence in the transfer of the elective franchise from the rotten horoughs to the large towns.* And here we cannot withhold our testimony to the sagacity, with which Mr. Huskisson foresaw the course, which this great question has taken. This distinguished statesman, to whose character we hope to find another opportunity of doing justice, (justice which shall not he stinted by the unfriendly judgments, which he took some occasions to propagate on the subject of the American policy, nor by the false fame, which his admirers and partisans have claimed for him, as the head of a new school in British legislation,) partook all Mr. Cannings opin- ions and prejudices against theoretical reform. He, however, * My right honorable friend, the Secretary of State for the Home Department, gave this House to understand, upon a former evening, that on some future occasion, he may acquiesce in granting the fran- chise to these towns. Now, sir, I contend that if we are to give rep- resentatives to these manufacturing districts at any time, it should be done now. But I am afraid, sir, that whatever this House may do, it ~vill be disappointed in its efforts, by an opposition in another place. Mr. Husicissons Speeches, Vol. III. p. 494. 1832.] Reform in England. 29 strenuously urged the gradual transfer of the franchise of cor- rupt boroughs to populous towns, and sacrificed his place in the Duke of Wellingtons cabinet to his adyocacy of such a policy, in the case of East Retford. It was proposed to transfer the representation of that corrupt borough to the great unrepresented city of Birmingham. The Ministry had such a horror of the slightest approach to the principle of theoretical reform, that they insisted on giving the forfeited franchise to the neighboring hundred of Bassetlaw; and the Duke of Wellington allowed Mr. Huskisson, on this slender schism, to go out of his cabinet. In his speeches on that subject, Mr. Huskisson distinctly told the Ministers, that the refusal to adopt the moderate and practical course of transferring to the large towns the vacated privilege of the corrupt boroughs, was the surest way to accelerate the proposal and adoption of measures for a general and sweeping reform. The event has fulfilled the prediction, sooner perhaps than its lamented author had foreseen. It is probable that before these pages see the light, the question will have been decided. In this country, and under the lights here possessed, it is the better opinion, that the bill will, in some form, become a law; but this opinion is enter- tained with less confidence than formerly. But suppose it passed. A great change has then taken place in the British Constitution. We will not insist on the word revolution, if it is thought necessary to limit that term to un- constitutional changes of Government accompanied by violence and blood. But a great change has taken place. This change is the abandonment of prescription, as the principle on which the British House of Commons is constituted. It is not denied, that small encroachments have from time to time be- fore been made on this principle. It is only by such en- croachments and concessions, that a great principle can ever be preserved in a perpetuated application. But it is now avowed, that the House of Commons shall no longer be con- stituted upon this principle. The Reform Bill comes to this, for it assumes a minimum of certain required theoretical qualifications, and prescribes that all seats, not possessed of these qualifications, shall be vacated. The old seats which remain untouched (besides the innovations applied to them in the matter of suffrage) remain so, not in virtue of the prescription, but in virtue of possess- ing the new theoretical qualifications. 30 Reform in England. [Jan. It will, iherefore, be borne in mind, (what we have not seen distinctly stated,) that the proposed reform extends to every individual seat in the House of Commons; for in ad- dition to the boroughs wholly or partially disfranchised and the seats now for the first tune given to counties or cities, every other seat is shifted from the hasis of prescription to that of qualification.* What is the new principle of the House of Commons, and (for it comes to the same thing) the British Constitution? That question has been answered by the King of England; his present Majesty, William LY. The words of kings are weighty, at least when they speak of the Constitution of their own kingdoms. The late House of Commons was very equally divided on the Reform Bill. The Ministry ventured an appeal to the people; and the King, in his speech from the throne, declared that the dissolution was ordered, for the purpose of ascertaining the sense of the people. The going of the King to the House of Lords, to proclaim this dissolution, is described, by the journals friendly to reform in England, in the most glowing and triumphant terms. We seem almost to he reading of the descent of the god of navies, from the summit of Thracian Samos to the depths of IEg~ T9E~~ 3 o~a 1taxpa KcLC IIo~rcriv i& & Oavdrow~ lloau3dwvo~ 16vro~. The House of Lords shakes with the concussion of boom- ing artillery, and its portals fly asunder before the approach of the patriot King. Seated upon his throne, surrounded hy his Ministers and the peers of England, with his faithful Commons in attendance at the har, he tells them he dissolves the Parlia- ment, for the purpose of ascertaining the sense of the people, in the only way in which it can most conveniently and authen- tically he expressed, for the purpose of making such changes in the representation as circumstances may require. It is true, the only question avowedly put to the people hy the dissolution was, whether they, or rather such of them as exercised the right of suffrage, were in favor of the bill. But that bill is a great change in the representation. It ap- plies a new principle to every seat of the Commons House of * We except, of course, the seats already and within recent times created for qualification; as one of the seats of the County of York, which was taken from Grampoand for corruption. 1832.] Reform in England. 31 Parliament, and the King says, the adoption of this change is referred by him TO THE SENSE OF THE PEOPLE. For as good a reason as those which dictated this reference, the extent and details of this change ought to be, and eventually and indirectly will be, referred to the sense of the people. For the same reason, if any other mode of collecting the sense of the people on these great questions, more authentic and convenient than that of an election of members of Parliament, should be proposed, it must be adopted. That is, if a regular~ constituent assembly should be convened, on the principle of an equal geographical representation, or any other equal prin- ciple, the sense of the people, thus authentically expressed in favor of some farther modification of the Constitution, must be accepted and obeyed. For the same reason, if this popular sense should settle down in favor of a Government popular in all its branches,whoever else may stand uncommitted,the present King of England and his responsible Ministers stand pledged to adopt it. But the King and his Ministers have, as the event proved, not gone farther than the majority of the people of England. The election of the present Parliament showed that the people were in favor of ascertaining the sense of the people, and would have shown it much more decisively, had the elections been more popular. The sentiment expressed by the King is undoubtedly that of a majority of the people of England, and this it is, which gives it its significance and weight. There cannot be a doubt, that, as the sense of the people has been for a century and a half more and more the directing principle in the administration of public affairs in England, it is henceforth to be so, much more eminently and authoritatively. It has henceforward been applied to the administration; now and hereafter it is applicable to the Constitution. Mr. Pitt, after valiantly sustaining himself for three months against a majority of the House of Commons, took the sense of the people, (meaning always the electors, a body then smaller imd less popular than now,) whether he should continue in office. The question now taken has been, whether the House of Commons, the old House resting on prescription, should con- tinue in office, and it has been decided in the negative. The people have decided that a new House on new principles shall be created. The importance of the subject, to which this principle is now Reform in England. [Jan. applied, no less than the Constitution of the House of Commons, the great effective power in the British Government,and the entire parity of reasoning, by which the same principle must and will be extended to every other question, require of us to regard it as the 1)rinciple, on which the British Government is henceforward to be organized and administered. It is, therefore, very important and curious to inquire what will be the consequences of taking the sense of the people, as tl~e rule of the Government? In discussing this subject, we shall endeavor to establish and enforce the opinions, briefly indicated in our article of last July. The following seem to us as some of the most natural and inevitable consequences First. A provision, in the words of his Majesty, of a more convenient and authentic mode of ascertaining the sense of the people. As to convenience, there is none to be compared with that of popular representation, the discovery of which is the merit of our forefathers, who settled the American Colo- nies. For though the then existing organization of the British Parliament wore, as it does now, a semblance of a represen- tative body, it was but a semblance; whereas the state of things in this country made it necessary to create a real rep- resentation. In our article of last July, we stated that Mr. Canning denied that the House of Commons was intended to represent the will of the people. The correctness of this statement has been called in question. But if our readers will turn to his speech, made at Liverpool, on occasion of his re-election, 18th of March, 1820, they will find him using this language The radical reformer will tell me fairly, that he means not simply to bring the House of Commons back either to the share of power, which it formerly enjoyed, or to the modes of election by which it was formerly chosen; but to make it what according to him it ought to be,a direct, effectual representative of the people; representing them, not as a delegate commissioned to take care of their interests, but as a deputy appointed to speak their will. Now to this view of the matter, I have no other ob- jection than this :that the British Constitution is a limited monarchy; that a limited monarchy is, in the nature of things, a mixed Government; but that such a House of Commons, as the radical reformer requires, would in effect be a pure democracy; a power, as it seems to me, inconsistent with any monarchy and unsusceptible of any limitation. 1832.] Reform in England. 33 There are many other passages in Mr. Cannings speeches to the same effect. We consider it then admitted, that the House of Commons, as now constituted, does not express the sense of the people. That it does not, is declared by the authors of the present bill, to be a grievance too heavy to be longer borne. The measure now before Parliament places the House of Commons on a new basis; a basis far more favorable to an authentic expression of the peoples sense. But the reform neither can, nor should stop here. Although the constituency (we quote a word of recent British coinage, which we commend to Sir Robert Peel, as an offset for talented) is greatly increased, every reason that has been or can be given for increasing it, de- mands a farther and systematic extension. What is now pro- posed to be done is too loose, too conjectural, too destitute of uniformity and equality. A vote in Parliament is too momen- tous to be given or taken away on averaging calculations. If the bill become a law, it will appear that towns which differ considerably in wealth and population elect the same number of members; that adjacent counties differing in like manner do the same thing, and that a still greater disproportion exists between counties and boroughs as compared with each other. It will also appear, that large numbers of British citizens will be excluded from the right of suffrage, as competent and as well entitled to exercise it as their neighbors. In the last de- bate, of which we have seen a report, Lord Granville Somerset moved an amendment to the bill, providing for a new district of boroughs in the county of Monmouth. Taking the population of the three northern counties together, Northumberland, Cum- berland, and Durham, he found that there was one member to every nineteen thousand persons; but, taking the population of the three counties of Monmouth, Glamorganshire, and Brecknockshire, the proportion was but one to every twenty- four thousand. Lord John Russell said, in reply; That in arranging this system of representation, his Majestys Ministers did not affect to have settled the just proportion be- tween the population and the number of members, in every case; though the population altogether was more fairly and equally represented than before. If an addition was made to the repre- sentation, he could assure the noble Lord, that greater irregulari- ties might be pointed out than that of Monmouth. Monmouth VOL. XxxIV.No. 74. 5 34 Reform in England. [Jan. had a proportion of one member to twenty-three or twenty-four thousand persons, whilst Derby had only one member to thirty- five thousand souls, and Lancashire only one member to every forty-seven or forty-eight thousand persons! When great questions come to be decided by a few votes in the House of Commons, will Lancashire, with one member for forty-eight thousand inhabitants, be content to be voted down, by members representing other counties on a ratio of one for nineteen thousand? London is to have eight mem- bers, which, we suppose, is one for every hundred thousand persons. Liverpool sends but two, which is one for every seventy thousand. Again, it will appear that great differences exist between England, Ireland, and Scotland, in all these re- s1ects. Ireland contains one third of the population, and will send but a sixth of the members. Will this satisfy Ireland? These diversities are all at war with the true principle of the bill. They require for their justification, the old and now discarded principle of l)rescliption, and cannot all plead even that. And when the newly constructed machine comes to work; and when momentous questions come to be carried by very small majorities, and it then appears that a different result would have been produced, had the representation been equal and apportioned on any systematic l)lan among the population of the United Kingdom, it will be impossible to resist the de- mand for such a plan. It will be absolutely necessary to organize the House on a system, which will represent the sense of the people authentically. There is no way to do this, but that of dividing the country into districts, according to popu- lation. There rs no other systematic plan that will bear exam- ination. The idea of combining with a ratio of population a ratio of wealth, has something plausible in it. It was one of the provisions of the first new Constitution, adopted in France after the revolution of 1 789. But it is wholly nugatory. Under the idea of representing property, as well as population, you apportion representatives among the districts according to the amount of taxation imposed on each. Thus far the plan, perhaps, looks well; at least it conforms to the principle. But when you enter the districts, and come to the exercise of the right of suffrage, you find that you have given to the poor inhabitant of the rich district a larger share of constituent power, than to the rich inhabitant of the poor district ;a result neither reasonable in itself, nor such as the plan was intended 1832.] Reform in England. to produce. Mr. Burke exposed the vices of this plan, in his comments on the French Constitution referred to above. But in addition to this, it is as impossible as it is needless, from the nature of things, in a representative Government, to represent property as such. Has there been a question re- sj)ecting property before Parliament since 1688, on which the men of property of all classes,nobles, gentlemen, and corn- moners,have not been divided? One great interest rules in one county; an opposite interest rules in the next. One J)eer, with a rental of 200,000 is on one side, and another with the same rental is on the other side. There is no interest in the community, which can be identi- fied as that of the property, apart from a wise and equal ad- ministration of law. If you were to put all the rich men into a class, on the plan of Servius Tullius, you would find them divided by the same parties, which in all free Governments divide the people. Besides all this, the indirect influence of wealth is amply sufficient for its own protection, and quite as great as it ought to be. It must be recollected, that as far as the enactment of equal laws and the just administration of them are con- cerned, the man of frugal property is the ally of his opulent neighbor. The industrious mechanic is quite as much con- cerned as the rich capitalist, to have property safe, and to see that the laws protect its acquisition and enjoyment. Beyond the promotion of this end, wealth in great masses ought to have no influence; and in the promotion of this end, it has, as such, no exclusive interest. We come hack then to our proposition, that with a view, as the King expresses it, to ascertain the sense of the people au- thentically, it will very soon he found necessary to establish a regular plan of geographical districts. A little study of our Congressional system will show our friends across the water, with what surprising simplicity and ease this may he done; and they will look at the Gothic complication of burgesscs and knights, and the arithmetical entanglements of schedule A and schedule B, with astonishment bordering on incredulity. .Secondly. Next to a convenient and authentic way of ex- pressing the sense of the people, it will he found necessary to remove all great, organized, and insuperable obstacles to its effective expression; and this will require a new modification of the House of Lords. The peers, originally and theoreti 36 Reform in England. [Jan. cally, were a separate estate in the realm; that is, we sup~ pose, a class of men performing separate functions, and for this purpose enjoying separate privileges. This estate stood originally on the tenure of military service. It would be idle to parade the cheap historical lore that belongs to the subject. Our readers know all about it. No one is ignorant, that the four or five hundred individuals, who now compose the House of Peers, have long ceased to be an estate of the realm, in its ancient authentic sense. They sit, we are taught, in a House of Parliament, because they are an estate. But take away their House, and what estate are they then? They have no functions, no interests peculiar to themselves. They raise and pay no troops, lead no armies; and are neither wiser, richer, nor better bred than their neighbors. It is the principle of the Reform Bill, that the enjoyment of the parliamentary franchise from the oldest periods of the Consti.~ tution, creates no claim to its continuance, unless the requisite qua~/ication is united with it. Now the qualification of the House of Peers, that is, their being a separate estate of the realm, has for many generations been wearing out, and is now wholly gone. They remain in theory a separate estate, and so is old Sarum in theory a borough, entitled to send two mem- bers to Parliament. But, in fact, the peers are distinguished in nothing but their titles from the rest of the community. We take it for granted, that nobody denies this; and that no one has a better defence to make for the House of Lords, than that made by Mr. Canning, viz, that the Government is a mixed and limited monarchy, and that a House of Peers is a necessary part of such a monarchy. This, of course, is not reasoning. It merely asserts a hjstorical fact, as to the official character of the House of Lords. But is thjs defence of the peerage agreeable to the new principle of the British Gov- ernment? Is it conformable to the sense of the people, that after their representatives have adopted an important measure, three or four hundred gentlemen, (selected by the chance of birth, and for no qualifications, from the mass of the population,) shall say, we do not like this measure, and it shall not become a law? This is to suppose the people to have, at the same time and on the same subject, a judgment at war with itself to wish that their own will should not be carried into effect. in the Edinburgh Review for July, in estimating the force with which the Reform Bill will go up to the House of Lords, 1832.] Reform in England. 37 our learned brother argues, and justly, that from the number of votes against it in the House of Commons, there should be a deduction of all the votes given by the rotten and close borough nominees, because these votes represent merely the opinion of the individual nohlemen, having the nomination of those boroughs. And what but the opinions of the same and three or four hundred other individual noblemen is represented, by the entire vote of the House of Lords? And why was not the tradition, by which a nobleman made the nomination to the seat in the House of Commons, as good as the tradition by which he holds his own seat in the House of Lords? The Governments of Europe (except the French) rest, if we may so express it, on an historical basis; they are what time and events have made them, and a great deal of which no reasonable account can now be given, exists and is per- petuated by the force of custom. In countries not despotically governed, this acquiescence in what exists, is the great strength of the Constitution. The English institutions rest, for the most part, on this basis. It is the basis of the common law. It is a basis firm enough for cop~mon times. But when violent times come, and radical changes are projected by ambitious innovators armed with military strength, or when sweeping reforms are undertaken by speculative statesmen, it is then plain, that the historical basis fails. It is avowedly repudiated. The military usurper tramples it under foot; the speculative reformer professes to disregard it. They are the more suc- cessful, because jt is of the nature of the historjcal basis, as it were, of itself to perish, to rot away. The name remains, and scarcely that,but the thing is gone. The friends of the existing system tell you, that a nobility is a part of the history, nay, of the antiquity of the British monarchy, that there have been barons, and earls, and dukes, from time immemorial; an integral estate of the realm, of eminent dignity. But when you scrutinize the subject nearly, you find that the name only is ancient, that the suhstance which it once described, has ceased to exist; and that the peers of England are in no degree different from the rest of the citizens, nor for any reason more competent or better entitled to form a house of legislation, than many hundreds and thousands of their fellow-citizens. So that even on the historical basis, the House of Peers has no solid foundation. It might stand unshaken so long as the principle of prescription is not called in question, but questioned 38 Reform in England. [Jan. and rejected as it is in the House of Commons, we see not how it can stand in the House of Lords. What does the great English revolution of the seventeenth century teach us on this subject,what is the lesson of the Commonwealth? We think it entirely safe to ask that question, for we cannot doubt, that the revolution now commenced will go, to say the least, as far, not in popular violence, but in giving a popular character to the Government. The revolu- tion of 1640 was a passionate, turnultuary, perhaps we may say fanatical movement, soon running into a military despotism. Great principles were struck out, but not calmly and systemati- cally developed. Qld institutions were rudely torn down, and any thing which the turbulence of the moment permitted was provisionally reared in their place. The various Parliaments assembled during the Commonwealth, were but a bitter and bloody mockery of a representation. The present revolution has begun, and we trust will proceed calmly, and for that rea- son systematically and far. It will be likely to go further than the Commonwealth, because it will proceed on rational grounds, reforming not subverting; and building anew wherever it is necessary to take down the unsafe and antiquated structures of ancient days. There will be no Straffords impeached, nor Lauds accused of treason, but we should not be surprised should the Commons again vote the Lords to be useless and dangerous, and therefore to be abolished. This is rendered as certain as any thing of the kind can be, by what is now going on in France. It is now proposed by the ministry of France, under the auspices of the King, to abolish the hereditary house of peers. It is possible, that the influence of this example may be impaired by the disorders, which perhaps await France. But if any thing like a happy issue is in reserve to reward the dangers and sacrifices of the patriots in France, then it will be just as impossible to retain an hereditary peerage in England, after it has been abolished in France, as to keep the tide at one level at Dover, and another at Calais. In both countries, the natural course of things will lead to an imitation of our senatorial bodies. Practice has seemed thus far, to establish the beneficial opera- tion of two chambers of legislation, to an extent not promised by the theory. It is true, that the Senate of the United States was not organized merely for the sake of having a second chamber of legislation; but as the basis of a compromise be- 1832.] Reform in England. 39 tween the Federal and the State principles, which, when the Constitution was formed, were supposed to be in collision. But the uniform experience of our twenty-four State Govern- ments has been thought to establish the necessity of two houses of legislation. Of that necessity, in a simple Com- monwealth, we entertain some doubts. We are not sure, that the plan of two chambers, as it was historically suggested by the division of Parliament into Lords and Commons, is not without any real ground of expediency or convenience. It is not probable, however, that England will take the risk of a single assembly. It is far more likely, that the kingdom will be divided into senatorial districts, electing perhaps a hun- dred senators for a period somewhat longer than that of the House of Commons, and like our Senate invested with a por- tion of the executive functions of the Government. Thirdly. We cannot draw any line between the House of Lords and the crown, in reference to most of the foregoing arguments. It appears to us, on the contrary, that though an hereditary monarchy is by no means the part of the system, where it infringes most directly on the new principle of the Government, it is that part, where the inconsistency of the old and new principles is most apparent to the observer. When the delicacy of the discussion is once overcome, it will perhaps appear, that the original and traditionary foundation of the crown has more effectually disappeared in the lapse of ages, than even that of the peerage. It never was pretended, we believe, that the peers sat in the House of Lords Dei gratia. It was thought that this formed the kings right to his throne. Is there a man now living in England, who entertains that opinion of the royal office? There cannot be one. But it is the ancient constitution of the realm, that there should be a king. It would be more proper, perhaps, to say, that it is the ancient constitution of the realm, that there should be a chief executive officer, clothed with such powers as Parliament may from time to time, by law, ordain, and acceding to the throne, under such modifications of the rule of hereditary succession, as the Parliament may establish. Except the name, there is very little in common between Elizabeth or Henry VIII. and William IV. The kingly office, as administered by the Tudors, is about as different from what it now is, as it is now from the office of President of the United States. The right given by act of Parliament (28 Henry VIII. c. 7) to Henry Viii. in 40 Reform in England. defect of children, to appoint his successor by testament, a right exercised by other sovereigns, differs almost as much from the present tenure, by which the crown is held,an hereditary Protestant succession, limited by act of Parliament,as this last does from popular choice. Now suppose it to he the sense of the people of England, (whether it be so or not we are really ignorant,) that an hereditary succession to the chief magistracy is an institution in arrears of the present state of civilization. Suppose the republicans in theory should think it time that what they consider an absurd mode of constitut- ing the executive were reformed. Suppose economical men should think so expensive an establishment, as the crown and its incidents and appendages, ought to be retrenched. Suppose the men of sense of all parties should say, that the question, how the chief executive office should be constituted, is one on which it is as important to ascertain the sense of the people, as the pro- posed change in the mode of choosing the House of Commons. Suppose a House of Commons under these views, and reflect- ing that the subject never was fairly and without prejudice put to the people, were to raise and discuss the question, and finally either decide it themselves in favor of an elective chief magistrate, or pass an act providing for the meeting of a con- ventIon, deputed by the people to consider and settle this question; could any consistent and satisfactory objection be made to such a course, by the patrons and supporters of the present bill? We repeat, that we do not assume to know, what would be the decision of such a convention. Captain Hall tells us, that the people of England have a warm loyal feeling, in addition to their respect for the official character of the king; that they love monarchy. It is perhaps so; and this may be in England a feeling of a generous and amiable character. But it seems to us a feeling belonging to an earlier day, and a lower stage of civilization. We should rather think, that when Lord Brougham and Vaux, together with the Archbishop of Canter- bury, the Deputy Lord Great Chamberlain, the Lord High Constable, and the Earl Marshal, preceded by Garter, was employed in going round to the four sides of Westminster Abbey, and making the recognition, four times, at the late coronation, he must have been divided between an inclination to smile and to sigh; and have perhaps put the question to himself, What the school-master would say of this pageantry? 1832.] Reform in England. 41 The opinion of the school-boy would be a matter of less doubt. We should think, that whoever in England should amuse a leisure hour, in reading Sir William Blackstones chapter on the royal prerogative, would come to the conclusion, that it was nearly time that the sense of the people was taken on the whole subject. It is of the kings prerogative, in reference to foreign powers, to send and to receive ambassadors; to make treaties, leagues, and alliances; to make peace and war. At home, the king is a branch of the Legislature, and has a nega- tive on the acts of its other branches; he is generalissimo of the army and navy; he is the fountain of justice and of honor; the arbiter of commerce, and the supreme governor of the Church. Such, according to Sir William, are the heads of the prerogative of the crown. Should his present majesty die to- morrow, this crown, with all these prerogatives, would descend to a female child eleven years old. We should think, when the people come to put that and that together, it would be their decided sense that, if these vast prerogatives ought to vest even nominally in a girl of eleven years of age, Old Saruni and Gat- ton might as well be let alone. Sir William speaks of those branches of the royal prerogative, which invest our sove- reign lord, thus all perfect and immortal in his kingly capacity, with a number of authorities and powers, in the exertion whereof consists the executive part of the Government. This is wisely placed in a single hand by the British Constitution, for the sake of unanimity, strength, and despatch. If Sir William has rightly stated the points, in which the wisdom of this arrange- ment consists, it would seem a departure from that wisdom, to place upon a baby brow the round And top of sovereignty. Among tfie consequences which will flow from adopting the sense of the people as the new principle of the British Government, we reckon, in the fourth place, the entire abroga- tion of the present national Church establishment. This, in fact, would seem to us more likely to happen at an early day, than the suppression of the peerage or the crown. The case of the established Church, we believe to be somewhat as follows. The Church of England is established by law in England and Ireland, with certain great exclusive privileges; and about one half of the English population are attached to that Church. In VOL. xxxIv.No. 74. 6 [Jan. 42 Reform in England. Scotland, the Presbyterian Church is the Church established by law, and a small minority of the people belongs to the Episcopal or English Church. In Ireland, five sixths, some authorities say four fifths, of the people are of the Catholic Church. Now, in the House of Peers, (we believe) thirty bishops and archbishops of the Church of England sit, as spiritual lords, possessing the same privileges, as members of that House, with the other peers. No Catholic bishop or priest is permitted a seat in the House of Lords, although by the late act of emancipation, the lay Catholic nobility are restored to their seats. No dignitary nor teacher of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland is allowed to sit in the House of Lords, although that Church is hy law the established Church of that part of the British empire. No dissenting teacher of any rank is allowed a seat in the House of Peers, although the dissenters are one half of the population of England. Will it be in conformity with the sense of the people of Great Britain, that thirty of the dignitaries of the minority Church should possess this great privilege ? Is it right, that they should? If the cause of religion require, that certain of its functionaries should hold seats in one of the Houses of Parliament, can nay reason be given, why these seats should be monopolized hy one communion, and that the minority? Here even the great argument of antiquity fails; the Catholic Church is entitled to the advantage of that argument on this point. The Church of England, as such, dates, at the earliest, from 1532. Then, too, the property of the Church. Considerable en- dowments were made in ancient times, and in the days of the Catholic Church, for the support of religion. A part of these were confiscated by Henry VIII., and by him kestowed on his lay favorites; a part are still applied to the service of re- ligion, and are appropriated by the State exclusively to the established Church. Is it right, that these endowments of the ancient Catholic land-owner should be monopolized hy one communion of Protestants, and that the minority? A consid- erable addition has, we believe, been made to these endow- inents since the Reformation, by reserving the tithes or a commutation of them, on the enclosure of common lands. These funds, like the more ancient ones, are also appropri- ated exclusively to the support of the minority Church. 1832.] Reform in England. 43 The universities may be considered as a part of this Church. A liberal share of the ecclesiastical endowments is in the disposal of these noble establishments. All the digni- ties, offices, and emoluments of these institutions are monopo- lized by the minority Church; and what is harder, their advantages, as places of education, are monopolized in the same way. If we are not misinformed, a subscription to the articles of the Church of England is required at one of the universities on admission, at the other on graduation. So that a young man, who is a conscientious member of the Church established by law in Scotland, cannot be graduated at an English university; nor the son of the Earl Marshal of England, the heir of all the blood of all the Ilowards, receive his education at the college which, perhaps, one of his ances- tors endowed. Such a state of things cannot stand under a representative system. The universities, as a matter of course, will at least be thrown open to all comers. Equally, as a matter of course, we apprehend, will the ecclesiastical funds be applied to the support of religious teachers, on some principle of equal dis- tribution. We go thus far, on the assu~mption, that these funds will continue to be raised to the extent to which they are now levied. But whether it will be thought just, by the reformed Parliament, giving effect to the popular sense, to assess on the owner of the land the whole cost of supporting the teachers of religion,which is the effect of the present system,we do not pretend to say. That something will be done, and that speedily, with the Church, seems to be understood. It appears to be admitted, even on the present system, that its revenues require a new apportionment between the dignitaries and the laboring clergy. A commencement has already been made with the Irish Church. On the 6th of last September, Mr. Hume made a mo- tion in Parliament, that an address should be presented to his Majesty, that he will be graciously pleased not to recom- mend to fill up the vacant sees of Derry and of Dublin, until the revenues of those sees are regulated in a manner consistent with the best interests of the established Church and the peace of Ireland. On occasion of this motion, the Chan- cellor of the Exchequer said, that in making a disposition of these sees, it was the intention of the Government to make it, not as regarded the see of Derry, but generally as regarded 44 Reform in England. [Jan. all the sees. It was his opinion, that no appropriation should be made of the revenues of the established Church to any other object; hut that a different distribution of those revenues could be made with great advantage. It is plain, that the principle here advanced applies equally to the English sees, and, probably, to some of them in an equal degree. Did the whole population belong to th~ Church of England, a new distribution of the revenues of the Church, which should give a fair remuneration to the laboring clergy, would be all that justice requires in this respect. It may be, as we have said, a question of public expediency, how far it is right to raise those funds exclusively from the land. But as the present owner of the lands came into possession of them with this incumbrance, he does not appear to be wronged. That the tenant however, does not, as is alleged, suffer a propor- tionate share of this burden on the land, we are not prepared to admit. But- this is aside from our purpose, and would plunge us into the whole metaphysics of the subject of rent. But the Church of England being the Church of the mi- nority, it is plain, that the sense of the people will go beyond a more equal distribution among the teachers of that Church of the funds consecrated to the purpose of religion. It will require, that by some process or other, these funds should be apportioned among all the communions. Whether this shall be done, by permitting the tithe-payer to make his pay- ment to the religious teacher of his own election, or whether the whole shall be paid into the exchequer, to be apportioned by the Government among all the Churches of all communions, will be a question for future decision. In France, in conse- quence of the alienation of Church property in the revolution, the entire religious establishment is supported by the Gov- ernment. It ought to be borne in mind, to the honor of the French Government, that the Protestant teachers are paid their salaries from the treasury, as well as the priests of the establishment. A similar liberality is extended by the Govern- ment of Austria to the dissenting communions in that empire, not excepting the Unitarians of Transylvania. But we cannot disguise the conviction, that the sense of the people of Great Britain, equally represented in a free Parlia- ment, will go much farther in the matter of Church reform, than we have yet indicated. If we have not mistaken the 1832.] Refrrm in England. 45 state of public opinion in that country, it has on this subject been ripening toward a grand and general system of indepen- dency and religious freedom. If ever there was a truly Anglo- Saxon idea struck out,if ever there was a notion suggested in the full spirit of English liberty, it was that of our glorious forefathers, the Puritans or Independents. They developed it, in all its perfection, as far as it concerns the independence of each single religious society; but even they did not carry it out to the liberty of each and every individual conscience. But the civilization of the age has pretty nearly reached the goal on this subject, and the one principle is as widely admit- ted as the other. It is an essential,the most essential,part of religious liberty to be permitted to join those, who agree with us in opinion, in electing the religious teacher to whose instructions we choose to listen. If we voluntarily attach ourselves to a communion, whose spiritual heads are authorized to designate the subordinate teachers, there is, of course, no hardship in their designation in this way. But the State, as such, must not interfere. Whether after its interference shall be with- drawn in Great Britain, the spiritual organization of the Epis- copal, the Presbyterian, the Methodist, the Catholic, and other Churches will subsist, as it does at present, will depend on them- selves. There will, probably, be a great extension of the prac- tice of a choice of the religious teacher, by the society which he is to instruct. What difficulty would there be in adopting, in the Church of England, the constitution of the Protestant Episcopal Church of this country, whose clergy are as re- spectable as their brethren in England, and are elected by the churches to which they mihister? The pecuniary interest pos- sessed in advowsons will, of course, if any change should be made in this system, be a proper subject for equitable indem- nification. But this we are bold to say, that before a Parlia- ment representing the sense of the people, the present ecclesiastical system cannot stand a day. There is not an argument in favor of it. Dr. Paley, a high dignitary of the established Church, admits that the provision for the support of religion in some parts of America, as he understood it, was the most perfect which had been devised. The provision to which he referred was one, which obliged the citizen to con- tribute to the support of a religious teacher, leaving to each individual the choice of his teacher. Short of this, the pro- gress of reform will hardly stop in England. 46 Reform in England. [Jan. In the fifth place, a considerable modiflcation,perhaps the dissolution,of the colonial system ~vill, probably, be among the effects produced by the new principle of the Constitution. Among the incidental, perhaps we may say the unexpected operations of the bill now pending, it has not escaped observa- tion, that by destroying the rotten and close boroughs, that virtual representation of the Colonies, which consisted in the nomination for such boroughs of members competent and dis- posed to take care of colonial interests, will be destroyed. The colonial interests will now have no influence in consti- tuting the House of Commons. To remedy this evil, Mr. Hume proposed, on the 16th of August, to apportion to the Colonies nineteen out of the thirty-two seats, by which the bill reduces the present numbers of the House. He proposed to give to British India four members, to the crown Colonies, (those having no legislative assemblies of their own) eight members, to British America three, to the West India Islands four. Mr. Hume accompanied his motion with an elaborate exposition, showing plainly the reasonableness of th~ plan, though the crudity of some parts of it is manifest enough. Thus Malta was to send one member, and all British India only four !Mr. Humes motion was seconded by the Mar- ~uis of Chandos, whose own successful proposition to divide the counties seems to have caused no little discontent on the part of the friends of the bill. Mr. Humes motion was nega- tived without a division; but it was not scouted. How could it be? Has England learned nothing out of the book of our Revolution? Have all its seals been opened in vain? Are the inhabitants of the Colonies free men? Are they British citizens? Do they inherit the birthright of British privileges? Have they the common pride and sensibility of men? Mr. Labouchere, (the intelligent member of Parliament, who visited the British American Colonies and the United States a few years since, and with his companions, Mr. Stanley, Mr. Dennison, and Mr. Wortley, carried back the respect and good will of all in America, who had the good fortune to make their acquaintance,) in replying to Mr. Hume, expressed the opinion, that the colonial members would prove merely an insulated force, at the disposal of the ministers on all other points; and cited the authority of Mr. Burke in support of the proposition, that Nature herself had placed an insuperable obstacle in the way of the attendance of colonial representatives 1832.] Reform in England. 47 in the British Parliament. We do not perceive why a colonial member should be deemed incapable of entering the great and general arena of British statesmanship, and acting an independent part in the House of Commons. As to the natural obstacle, we think it greatly exaggerated. Mexico was represented in the Spanish Cortes. The case of British India is the strongest. But if we suppose the members elected a year beforehand, as half the members of the American Congress are elected,and suppose the average voyage from India to London to be one hundred and twenty days, where is the difficulty? As to all the other colonial members, the case is unattended with diffi- culty. Thirty days may be safely calculated upon as a passage from Quebec or Jamaica. .No other objection, that we find, was stated! The American Revolution is a standing demonstration, that British Colonies must be represented or become independent, whenever the popular feeling is awakened on the subject. England brings up her children to a notion of rights and liber- ties, which makes them awkward subjects of arbitrary power. There never was gathered together, under the name of a people, a race more kindly disposed to order and manly subordination, than the citizens of these United States, while yet Colonies of Great Britain ; and yet their colonial history is one long series of murmurs, complaints, and struggles, ending in revolution and separation. Are the Englishmen in the present Colonies of baser clay? We do not believe it. Besides this, the physical diffi- culty being proved to be imaginary, how can the friends of reform refuse, on principle, to give a representation to the Colonies? But here comes a great difficulty. When a Colony reaches a state in which it is fit to be represented, and in which it has a free population to represent; when it ceases to be held by military force and is capable of a Government of laws, then it is fit for independence. The colonial system, with or without representation, never was intended for free, intelligent commu- nities, of the kindred of the mother country. It suits infant plantations, remote and conquered savage or semi-civilized tribes, and military posts like Malta and Gibraltar, which are rather garrisons than Colonies. But the moment you recognize them as an intelligent population, possessing rights which they understand and are capable of protecting, you must then incor- porate them into your body politic, as integral members, or 48 Reform in England. [Jan. they will set up for themselves. So that it may be taken as an axiom, that a representative Government cannot hold distant Colonies, on any great scale. Such Colonies, if admitted to be entitled to representation, will say, You think us entitled to a voice in the Parliament of the empire. But it is not a voice in your metropolitan councils which we need. Your interests concern not us, and in protecting our own interests, we ought to have more than a voice, we ought to have the exclusive control. We know what is good for ourselves. If you know what is good for us, you cannot, and do not profess to make it the rule of your colonial policy. That rule is the interest of the mother country, and the interest of the Colonies only as it coincides with yours. You think we understand our own in- terests, or you would not send for us to enlighten you upon them. But understanding these interests, we do not see why we should have to come to London to manage them. We can manage them at home. This is a language likely to come from some at least of the Colonies; not probably from British India. Its Government is a military despotism. Mr. Humes idea of granting it a representation, seems to us absurd. How can a military despotism, a country containing one hundred and ten millions of men, kept in awe by twenty thousand foreign, and one hundred and eighty thousand native troops, be represented? Represent whom? The native population? Why, they have no political rights to represent or protect. Represent the army which holds them in submission? The army wants pay an~l promotion, panem et c~rcenses,and nothing else. If any body in India needs representation, it is the poor natives. Mr. flumes plan would throw the election of the four members for flindostan into the hands of the British interest. Is that interest now too weak in the House of Commons? He says, we believe, that the member from Calcutta will be sufficient for all Upper India. Does Mr. flume know how many provinces, kingdoms, and millions of men are contained in all Upper India, which he thinks will be sufficiently represented by one Englishman, chosen by the British residents at Calcutta? British America is ripe for represei~tation; but the people who are fit for a representative Government, are, as we have said, fit for independence. Mr. flume proposes to give all British continental America but three representatives, (because they have assemblies of their own,) while Malta is to have one, 18~32.] Reform zn England. 49 Gibraltar one, and Newfoundland one. A strange discrimina- tion! Malta and Gibraltar are mere garrisons, Newfoundland a poor fishing station. The continental provinces are an empire, daily growing in numbers, wealth, and importance. Repre- sented or not, they will soon fail away from the British Govern- ment. A liberal Parliament could not well throw obstacles in the way of this separation. If it should be the sense of that part of his majestys people, that they are fit to govern them- selves, how could their right to do so be gainsaid? If this right be peaceably conceded, the British Colonies on the North American continent will probably establish an independent re- public of their own. if a compulsory policy be pursued by the mother country, they will as probably, on the breaking out of the first war, join the United States. British India will be held, as long as the British Government will pay the troops necessary to retain it in its present condition. The state of the British West Indies is peculiar. Their question, as to political relations, is affected by the other all-absorbing question of their domestic condition. They would unquestionably be soothed by being admitted to Parliament; but as their great question will there be decided on grounds, which one, or two, or half a dozen colonial members, however well informed, could not affect, on abstract grounds of moral argument,no permanent good effect on their dispositions and feelings would be produced, by allowing them to be represented in the House of Commons. The slavery question is all in all to them. If that be decided in their favor, they will care very little about representation. If decided against them,a result which Mr. flumes four members would be able to do nothing to avert,they will revolt. We have before us extracts from the West India papers, which leave no doubt on this question. There is no part of the landscape, of which we find it so difficult to get a clear view as Ireland. A fatal wall of partition is kept up between her and the English Government. If that wall should be broken down, Ireland is safe; if not, we see not how, under a popular Parliament, it can be retained. That wall of partition is the legal establishment in ireland of a Church hostile to the faith of the people of Ireland. Turks and Greeks do not differ more in their feelings on this subject, than the Catholics and Protestants of Ireland. Ireland is out- raged by the Church establishment; and doubly so, on the comparison of herself with Scotland, whose national faith is VOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 7 50 Reform in England. [Jan. established by law. This is the great cause of Irish disaffection. Redundant population and absenteeism are evils; but it is the Church that lies at the root of the difficulty, and poisons every thing. Unless the feelings of the people are consulted on this head, they must be held in subjection by military power, or not at all. But how are you to hold a people in military subjection, who, by popular election, send one hundred mem- bers to Parliament? The thing is impossible. If that repre- sentation do not work out an entire equality of privilege for its constituents, they will swarm off. The concessions already made to the Catholics will avail nothing. Concessions to a discontented party have no effect, but to give the party new strength and confidence. There is no medium between with- holding all and granting all. If the Catholic population of Ireland shall, in each and every respect, be placed on a footing with their Protestant brethren, and every point of dis- tinction be removed, and if Ireland be admitted to a share of the representation proportioned to her numbers, it may be retained in its connexion with England. If this is not done, it can only be kept by military possession. TI]e sixth consequence of the new principle will, we think, be a great retrenchment of the public establishments, and of the expenditure by which they are supported. This topic would be more fruitful in comment than any we have touched. It is a subject more immediately and practically important than any other, but we have left ourselves no room to dwell on it. It will be remembered that retrenchment is one of the three principles, to which the present ministry pledged themselves, in coming into office. Another of these principles was non-interference in foreign politics, and we just indicate it, (without being able to develope the idea,) as the last of the consequences of the adoption of the new principle, that it will be followed by a diminution of that sort of influence, which England has been used to exercise abroad. But with the decline of this foreign influence,fruitful of strife and trouble,her substantial strength and inward wel- fare will be promoted. Like the United States, she will be- come weak abroad and strong at home. Mighty coalitions, foreign campaigns, great naval expeditions, extravagant subsi- dies, and chains of colonies stretching round the globe, must be abandoned; but with them the wars which belong to the same system will cease; the burdens they impose will be re 1832.] Reform in England. 51 lieved; the swarms of consuming idlers which they nourish, will be scattered or turned into industrious producers; and the strong powers, with which they make it necessary to fortify the executive arm, will no longer he required. In this way, the march of national improvement will be carried on. It is a process for dispensing with extra Govern- ment. As it extends itself from nation to nation, less and less will depend on the personal qualities of those who administer the Government; and it will cease to be in the power of a few individuals to embroil Europe and America in war. The capital, the labor, and the talent, that have been employed in the work of destruction, will be directed to the work of pro- duction and preservation, and a consequent increase of human happiness will result. This state of things tends powerfully toward a new and greatly improved condition of international politics. The ancient civilization was so feeble in its principle, that it seemed hardly to admit of an extension beyond the sphere of one great political family. A series of States in the west of Asia suc- ceeded each other, each rising on the ruins of its predecessor; and none of them proving the source of light to be contempo- raneously enjoyed by other nations. rJ7he civilization of Europe next arose in Greece; struggled a. while with that of Persia; was at one moment on the point of being overwhelmed; but having escaped in that crisis, obtained a mastery under the auspices of Alexander, which has never since been permanently wrested from Europe. But it proved impossible to build up the civilization of Italy, on any other basis than the ruins of Greece. The diffusion of Christianity was followed with a great extension of the arts congenial to a spiritual religion. In the obscurity of the dark ages, a great work of spreading improve- nient was carried on, to which justice is hardly done. The erection throughout Christendom of churches and religious houses, with the organization of a body of men devoted to the service of a faith built on written records, and providing a system of religious instruction, was itself an engine for diffusing intellectual improvement, beyond all which the ancient world possessed. Nor must we forget the new instruments of social intercourse and communication, the compass and the press. In a word, it was found in the formation of the modern political system, that Europe had become capable of supporting more [Jan. 52 Reform in England. than one civilized nation; that a family of States, rivalling each other in the arts of life, could subsist side by side. But then sprang up the difficulties incident to their perpetual collisions, feuds, and wars. These nations, being all organized under forms of Governments, which threw the control of affairs into the hands of a few men, their personal passions and con-. tested titles were a source of eternal wars. A principle of international peace became necessary. We now want to con- stitute our Governments so that it will be hard to go to war. We wish to put the last hand to the great improvement of modern civilization over that of the ancient world, and put an end to this cruel necessity of waging war every thirty years. It is plain that this can only be done, by giving full develope- ment to the representative principle. This will cut off the great source of wars, the personal passions of those in power. It was the unfortunate prejudice which Mr. Canning had con- ceived against the United States, which eventually produced the war of 1812; neither Lord Castlereagh, nor the Duke of Wellington, nor Lord Grey, would, in Lhe judgment we have formed of these ministers, have allowed the collisions between the two countries to ripen into war; certainly a free Parliament would not have allowed it. The revolutionary war of 1775, was against the sense of the people of England. It has ever appeared to us, that the unnecessary interference of Mr. Pitt in French politics brought on the wars of the French Revolu- tion, with all their consequences. Our whole simple philosophy on this subject is contained in the words of Cowper; War is a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at. By kings, we mean, of course, kings and ministers. It is itself a great triumph of modern improvement, that so much less depends on the personal character of the prince in many States of Europe, than formerly. Still, however, his personal char- acter greatly influences the selection of ministers; and the ministry do but substitute their own personality for that of the king. For personal reasons, from personal views, opinions, passions, they play this dreadful game of war. The sense of the people,the calm, deliberate sense of the people,is against it. Two enlightened countries, freely represented, could scarcely be wrought up to the point of carrying a declara 1832.] Reform in England. 53 tion of war against each other, through all the stages of a legislative enactment. If a thorough reform of the British Government shall bring the collective sense of the people of England into the councils of that country, and a like happy issue crown the movement in France; we should not despair of finding the influence of these two countries, in connexion with that of the United States, prove sufficient to put an end to war among civilized nations, and leave it to barbarous and despotic nations and Governments,a fit engine to be em- ployed by them for mutual havoc. How long will it be before such a consummation will be brought about? Let no man, who loves his race and augurs favorably of its destinies, be put out of countenance by this question. How long is it since all Western Europe, now the seat of Christianity and of letters, and the abode of an intel- ligent population, was covered with tribes of painted savages? Less than eighteen hundred years. Compare the condition of Great Britain, and the entire North of Europe now, with what it was eight or nine centuries ago. The mechanical and indus- trious arts have added incalculably to the power of social and improving influences in modern times. There is no extrava- gance in predicting a vastly accelerated progress of civilization. But should it be slower than we wish or hope, it is not the less sure; and the object is one worthy to be obtained by genera- tions and centuries of effort. No sacrifice is costly; no time is long. A thousand years are as one day. It is not we who are doing the work; it is the long line of generations, of which we are but a little part, and which, from the first blow that was struck for liberty in modern Europe, has been struggling toward the same end. We have intimated our opinions as to measures, some of which we think are likely to follow the recognition of the sense of the people, as the rule of the Government and the principle of the constitution of England. These farther reforms, as far as they depend on the will of the people of England, may be brought about by parliamentary enactment, or by a still more authentic mode of ascertaining the sense of the people; we mean the adoption, by the people themselves, of a new .Magna Charta, a reformed written constitution. Should the friends of reform in England be disposed to pursue this course, we beg leave to suggest the method of procedure usually adopted in this country, as simple, convenient, and safe. 54 Reform in England. [Jan. Several of the States of this Union, and among them the largest and most powerful, have found occasion to revise their constitutions. This was last done in Virginia, two years ago. For this purpose, an act is passed by the State Legislature, authorizing the assembling of a convention, and prescribing the qualifications of its members, and their mode of election, which are usually those of the most popular branch of the State Legis- lature. The convention meets, revises the constitution, and prepares its report. This is submitted to the people, who accept or reject it, and this ends the matter. This has been done over and over again in the United States, and always without embarrassment, difficulty, or commotion. An analo- gous course in England would be, to provide by act of Parlia- ment for the election of members of a convention, in proportion to the population, (including or excluding the Colonies, accord- ing as it might be intended to incorporate them or not into the State,) to be chosen in convenient geographical districts, and on some popular principle of suffrage. Let this convention meet, not like the barons at Runnymede, to extort a charter of liberties from a tyrant, but to devise a liberal constitution of Government for the people; to be accepted or rejected by them and containing in itself proper conservative principles, like those embodied in the constitution of the United States. It has been with no small satisfaction, that, after listening so long to the denunciation of republics in general, and the Govern- ment of the United States in particular, on the score of fluctua- tion and instability,after hearing our constitution reproached on this ground in the present debate, by one of the most re- spectable members of Parliament, we find our learned colleague of the British Quarterly Review asking of the friends of the Reform Bill, if they are aware of the existence of that powerful conservative principle, so wisely embodied in the original frame of the American constitution, and contrasted, by the same writer, with the exposure of the British consti- tution to the mercy of an omnipotent Legislature. We had ourselves drawn this contrast, in our remarks of last July; but we did not flatter ourselves that we should so soon see it recognized in such a quarter. If a new constitution should be drawn up for England, by such a convention as we have described, conforming to the ascertained sense of the people, and containing a provision that no change shall be made in it, but on a vote of two thirds of 1832.] Reform in England. Parliament, ratified by tw~ thirds of the people, the liberties of England, in our humble judgment, will be put upon a basis of security, beyond the reach of all the ordinary causes of political decline. A vast reduction of expenditure would be the consequence of the simplification of the Government, and the change in its foreign policy. This would lead to a proportionate diminution of the burden of taxation, and to an effectual attack on the mountain mass of the public debt. Look at the United States. Behold what these free insti- tutions have done for us! In fifty-seven years, we have passed through two wars, and great vicissitudes of domestic politics, and have, nevertheless, paid off a public debt of nearly two hundred millions of dollars,grown up from three millions of inhabitants to thirteen,and settled the continent for a thousand miles into the interior. Forty millions of pounds sterling of public debt paid off!Should we be ex- travagant, if we said, that, compared to our population and wealth, this debt is as great for us, as the British debt for Great Britain ? Yet this has our tumultuous democracy achieved. What has the stable monarchy of Great Britain done in the meantime? Quadrupled her debt. And for what purpose? To put down the French revolution. Is it down? Look at its denouement in July, 1830. To put down the French revolution? Every dollar spent by Great Britain in that cause tended to assure its success. No, this mighty burden was laid on England, in support of a system of politics, conceived by a great man, but, even on English principles, of doubtful soundness, and so regarded by other English states~ men as great as he. Such a policy, under a free representa- lion of the deliberate and intelligent sense of the people, could not have been persevered in. It has entailed on England her present heritage of embarrassment. It is the load of taxa- tion,the intolerable weight of each mans share of that load,which now gives all its force to this clamor for reform. The British statesman, who thinks to give quiet to the coun- try,dastin g quiet,by any thing short of a great diminution of taxation, deceives himself. The topic of agitation may vary, but the discontent will continue. They may change the place, but they will keep the pain. Catholic disabilities may be removed, test and corporation acts repealed, parliamentary reform be granted. It is only filing away successively another piece of parchment in the archives of State. And unless the 56 Dejence of Poetry. [Jan. reform of Parliament is followed by radical changes in the system of Government, in virtue of which it can be adminis- tered at half its present expense, nothing will have been gained toward satisfying the public mind. There the great load of taxation remains; the mighty weight, which runs down, and runs down, and never finds a bottom, but is giving a constantly accelerated motion to the whole madding machinery of oppo- sition, agitation, disaffection, and revolt. But it is probable that the reformed Parliament, containing, as it will, a greatly increased representation of the public voice, will lead to other reforms, productive of diminished expenditure and reduced taxation, and in this probability rests the hope, that it will prove a measure of health and preservation to the State. ART. ILL.Defence of Poetry. The Defence of Poesy. By SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Re- published in the Library of the Old English Prose Writers. Vol. II. Cambridge. Hilliard & Brown. 1831. Gentle Sir Philip Sidney, thou knewest what belonged to a scholar; thou knewest what pains, what toil, what travel, conduct to perfection; well couldest thou give every virtue his encouragement, every art his due, every writer his desert, cause none more virtuous, witty or learned than thyself.~* This eulogium was bestowed upon one of the most learned and illustrious men, that adorned the last half of the sixteenth century. Literary history is full of his praises. He is spoken of as the ripe scholar, the able statesman, the soldiers, scholars, courtiers eye, tongue, sword,the man whose whole life was poetry put into action. He and the Chevalier Bayard were the connecting links between the ages of chivalry and our own. Sir Philip Sidney was horn at Penshurst in West Kent, on the 29th of November, 1554, and died on the 16th day of October, 1586, from the wound of a musket-shot, received under the walls of Zutphen, a town in Guelderland, on the banks of the Issel. When he was retiring from the field of battle, an incident occurred, which well illustrates his chival * Nashs Pierce Penniless.

56 Dejence of Poetry. [Jan. reform of Parliament is followed by radical changes in the system of Government, in virtue of which it can be adminis- tered at half its present expense, nothing will have been gained toward satisfying the public mind. There the great load of taxation remains; the mighty weight, which runs down, and runs down, and never finds a bottom, but is giving a constantly accelerated motion to the whole madding machinery of oppo- sition, agitation, disaffection, and revolt. But it is probable that the reformed Parliament, containing, as it will, a greatly increased representation of the public voice, will lead to other reforms, productive of diminished expenditure and reduced taxation, and in this probability rests the hope, that it will prove a measure of health and preservation to the State. ART. ILL.Defence of Poetry. The Defence of Poesy. By SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Re- published in the Library of the Old English Prose Writers. Vol. II. Cambridge. Hilliard & Brown. 1831. Gentle Sir Philip Sidney, thou knewest what belonged to a scholar; thou knewest what pains, what toil, what travel, conduct to perfection; well couldest thou give every virtue his encouragement, every art his due, every writer his desert, cause none more virtuous, witty or learned than thyself.~* This eulogium was bestowed upon one of the most learned and illustrious men, that adorned the last half of the sixteenth century. Literary history is full of his praises. He is spoken of as the ripe scholar, the able statesman, the soldiers, scholars, courtiers eye, tongue, sword,the man whose whole life was poetry put into action. He and the Chevalier Bayard were the connecting links between the ages of chivalry and our own. Sir Philip Sidney was horn at Penshurst in West Kent, on the 29th of November, 1554, and died on the 16th day of October, 1586, from the wound of a musket-shot, received under the walls of Zutphen, a town in Guelderland, on the banks of the Issel. When he was retiring from the field of battle, an incident occurred, which well illustrates his chival * Nashs Pierce Penniless. 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 57 rous spirit, and that goodness of heart which gained him the appellation of the Gentle Sir Philip Sidney. The circum-~ stance has been made the subject of an historical painting by West. It is thus related by Lord Brooke. The horse he rode upon was rather furiously choleric than bravely proud, and so forced him to forsake the field, but not his back, as the noblest and fittest bier to carry a~martial commander to his grave. In which sad progress, passing along by the rest of the army where his uncle the General was, and being thirsty with excess of bleeding, he called for drink, which was presently brought him; but, as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along, who had eaten his last at the same feast, ghastly casting up his eyes at the bottle. Which Sir Philip perceiving, took it from his head, before he drank, and delivered it to the poor man, with these words, Thy necessity is yet greater than mine. The most celebrated productions of Sidneys pen are the Arcadia and the Defence of Poetry. The former was written during the authors retirement at Wilton, the residence of his sister, the Countess of Pembroke. Though so much cele- brated in its day,* it is now little known, and still less read. Its very subject prevents it from being popular at present; for now the pastoral reed seems entirely thrown aside. The muses no longer haunt the groves of Arcadia. The shepherds song,the sound of oaten pipe, and the scenes of pastoral loves and jealousies, are no becoming themes for the spirit of the age. Few at present take for their motto, flurnina amo, silvasque inglorius, and, consequently, few read the Arcadia. The Defence of Poetry is a work of rare merit. It is a golden little volume, which the scholar may lay beneaih his pillow, as Chrysostom did the works of Aristophanes. We do not, however, mean to analyze it in this place; but recom- mend to our re~iders to purchase this sweet food of sweetly * Many ofour readers will recollect the high-wrought eulogium of Harvey Pierce, when he consigned the work to immortality. Live ever sweete, sweete booke: the simple image of his gentle witt; and. the golden pillar of his noble courage; and ever notify unto the world, that thy writer was the secretary of eloquence, the breath of the muses, the honey-bee of the daintyest flowers of witt and arte; the pith of morale and intellectual virtues, the arme of Bellona in the field, the tongue of Suada in the chamber, the sprite of Practice in esse, and the paragon of excellency in print. VOL. XxXIV.NO. 74. 8 58 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. uttered knowledge. It will be read with delight by all who have a taste for the true beauties of poetry; and ma~ go far to remove the prejudices of those who have not. To this latter class, we address the concluding remarks of the author. So that since the ever praiseworthy poesy is full of virtue, breeding delightfulness, and void of no gift that ought to be in the noble name of learning; since the blames laid against it are either false or feeble; since the cause why it is not esteemed in England is the fault of poet-apes, not poets; since, lastly, our tongue is most fit to honor poesy, and to be honored by poesy; I conjure you all that have had the evil luck to read this ink- wasting toy of mine, even in the name of the nine muses, no more to scorn the sacred mysteries of poesy; no more to laugh at the name of poets, as though they were next inheritors to fools; no more to jest at the reverend title of a rhymer; but to be- lieve, with Aristotle, that they were the ancient treasurers of the Grecians divinity; to believe, with Bembus, that they were the first bringers in of all civility; to believe, with Scaliger, that no philosophers precepts can sooner make you an honest man, than the reading of Virgil; to believe, with Clauserus, the translator of Cornutus, that it pleased the heavenly Deity by Hesiod and Homer, under the veil of fables, to give us all knowledge, logic, rhetoric, philosophy, natural and moral, and quid non ? to be- lieve, with me, that there are many mysteries contained in poetry, which of purpose were written darkly, lest by profane wits it should be abused; to believe, with Landin, that they are so beloved of the gods, that whatsoever they write proceeds of a divine fury; lastly, to believe themselves, when they tell you, they will make you immortal by their verses. Thus doing, your names shall flourish in the printers shops; thus doing, you shall be of kin to many a poetical preface; thus doing, you shall be most fair, most rich, most wise, most all; you shall dwell upon superlatives; thus doing, though you be libertino patre natus, you shall suddenly grow Herculea proles, Si quid mea carmina possunt : thus doing, your soul shall be placed with Dantes Beatrix, or Virgils Anchises. But if (fie of such a but!) you be born so near the dull-making cataract of Nilus, that you cannot hear the planet-like music of poetry; if you have so earth-creeping a mind, that it cannot lift itself up to look to the sky of poetry, or rather, by a certain rus- tical disdain, will become such a mome, as to be a Momus of poetry; then, though I will not wish unto you the asss ears of 1832.] 59 Defence of Poetry. Midas, nor to be driven by a poets verses, as Bubonax was, to hang himself; nor to be rhymed to death, as is said to be done in Ireland; yet thus much curse I must send you in the behalf of all poets; that while you live, you live in love, and never get favor, for lacking skill of a sonnet; and when you die, your memory die from the earth, for want of an epitaph. As no Apologie for Poetrie has appeared among us, we hope that Sir Philip Sidneys Defence will be widely read and long remembered. 0 that in our country, it might be the harbinger of as bright an intellectual day as it was in his own !With us, the spirit of the age is clamorous for utility, for visible, tangible utility,for bare, brawny, muscular utility. We would be roused to action by the voice of the populace, and the sounds of the crowded mart, and not lulled asleep in shady idleness with poets pastimes. We are swallowed up in schemes for gain, and engrossed with contrivances for bodily enjoyments, as if this particle of dust were immortal, as if the soul needed no aliment, and the mind no raiment. We glory in the extent of our territory, in our rapidly in- creasing population, in our agricultural privileges, and our commercial advantages. We boast of the [nagnificence and beauty of our natural scenery,of the various climates of our sky,the summers of our Northern regions,the salubrious winters of the South, and of the various products of our soil, from the pines of our Northern highlands to the palm-tree and aloes of our Southern frontier. We boast of the~increase and extent of our physical strength, the sound of populous cities, breaking the silence and solitude of our Western territories, plantations conquered from the forest, and gardens springing up in the wilderness. Yet the true glory of a nation consists not in the extent of its territory, the pomp of its forests, the majesty of its rivers, the height of its mountains, and the beauty of its sky; but in the extent of its mental power,the majesty of its intellect,the height and depth and purity of its moral nature. It consists not in what nature has given to the body, but in what nature and education have given to the mind :not in the world around us, hut in the world within us :not in the circumstances of fortune, but in the attributes of the soul :not in the corruptible, t~nsitory, and perishable forms of matter, but in the incorruptible, the permanent, the imperishable mind. True greatness is the greatness of the mind ;the true glory of a nation is moral and intellectual pre- eminence. 60 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. But still the main current of education runs in the wide and not well defined channel of immediate and practical utility. The main point is, how to make the greatest progress in worldly prosperity,how to advance most rapidly in the career of gain. This, perhaps, is necessarily the case to a certain extent in a country, where every man is taught to rely upon his own exertions for a livelihood, and is the artificer of his own fortune and estate. But it ought not to be exclusively so. We ought not, in the pursuit of wealth and worldly honor, to forget those embellishments of the mind and the heart, which sweeten social intercourse and improve the condition of society. And yet, in the language of Dr. Paley, Many of us are brought up with this world set before us, and nothing else. Whatever promotes this worlds prosperity is praised; whatever hurts and obstructs this worlds prosperity is blamed; and there all praise and censure end. We see mankind about us in motion and action, but all these motions and actions directed to worldly objects. We hear their conversation, but it is all the same way. And this is what we see and hear from the first. The views, which are continually placed before our eyes, re- gard this life alone and its interests. Can it then be wondered at, that an early worldly-mindedness is bred in our hearts so strong, as to shut out heavenly-mindedness entirely !And this, though not in so many words, yet in fact and in its prac- tical tendency, is the popular doctrine of utility. Now, under correction be it said, we are much led astray by this word utility. There is hardly a word in our language whose meaning is so vague, and so often misunderstood and misapplied. We too often limit its application to those acquisitions and pursuits, which are of immediate and visible profit to ourselves and the community; regarding as compara- tively or utterly useless many others, which, though more re- mote in their effects and more imperceptible in their operation, are, notwithstanding, higher in their aim, wider in their influ- ence, more certain in their results, and more intimately con- nected with the common weal. We are too apt to think that nothing can be useful, but what is done with a noise, at noon- day, and at the corners of the streets; as if action and utility were synonymous, and it were not as useless to act without thinking, as it is to think without acting. But the truth is, the word utility has a wider signification than this. It embraces in its proper definition whatever contributes to our happiness; 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 61 and thus includes many of those arts and sciences, many of those secret studies and solitary avocations, which are gen- erally regarded either as useless, or as absolutely injurious to society. Not he alone does service to the State, whose wisdom guides her councils at home, nor he whose voice asserts her dignity ahroad. A thousand little rills, springing up in the retired walks of life, go to swell the rushing tide of national glory and prosperity; and whoever in the solitude of his cham- ber, and by even a single effort of his mind, has added to the intellectual pre-eminence of his country, has not lived in vain, nor to himself alone. Does not the pen of the historian per- petuate the fame of the hero and the statesman? Do not their names live in the song of the bard? Do not the pencil and the chisel touch the soul while they delight the eye? Does not the spirit of the patriot and the sage, looking from the painted canvass, or eloquent from the marble lip, fill our hearts with veneration for all that is great in intellect, and godlike in virtue ? If this be true, then are the ornamental arts of life not merely ornamental, but at the same time highly useful; and Poetry and the Fine Arts become the instruction, as well as the amusement of mankind. They will not till our lands, nor freight our ships, nor fill our granaries and our coffers; but they will enrich the heart, freight the understanding, and make up the garnered fulness of the mind. And this we hold to be the true use of the subject. Among the barbarous nations, which, in the early centuries of our era, overran the South of Europe, the most contume- lious epithet which could be applied to a man, was to call him a Roman. All the corruption and degeneracy of the Western Empire were associated, in the minds of the Gothic tribes, with a love of letters and the fine arts. So far did this belief influence their practice, that they would not suffer their children to be instructed in the learning of the South. Instruction in the sciences, said they, tends to corrupt, enervate, and de- press the mind; and he who has been accustomed to tremble under the rod of a pedagogue, will never look on a sword or a spear with an undaunted eye.~* We apprehend that there are some, and indeed not a few in our active community, who * Procop. de hello Gothor. ap. Robertson, list. Charles V. Vol. I. p. 234. a 62 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. hold the appellation of scholar and man of letters in as little repute, as did our Gothic ancestors that of Roman; associating with it about the same ideas of effeminacy and inefficiency. They think, that the learning of books is not wisdom; that study unfits a man for action; that poetry and nonsense are convertible terms; that literature begets an effeminate and craven spirit; in a word, that the dust and cobwebs of a library are a kind of armor, which will not stand long against the hard. knocks of the bone and muscle of the State, and the huge two-fisted sway of the stump orator. Whenever intellect is called into action, they would have the mind display a rough and natural energy,strength, straight-forward strength, untutored in the rules of art, and unadorned by elegant and courtly erudition. They want the stirring voice of Demosthenes, accustomed to the roar of the tempest, and the dashing of the sea upon its hollow-sounding shore; rather than the winning eloquence of Phalereus, coming into the sun and dust of the battle, not from the martial tent of the soldier, but from the philosophic shades of Theophrastus. But against no branch of scholarship is the cry so loud as against poetry, the quintessence, or rather the luxury of all learning. Its enemies pretend, that it is injurious both to the mind and the heart; that it incapacitates us for the severer discipline of professional study; and that, by exciting the feel- ings and misdirecting the imagination, it unfits us for the com- mon duties of life, and the intercourse of this matter-of-fact world. And yet such men have lived, as Homer, and Dante, and Milton ;poets and scholars, whose minds were bathed in song, and yet not weakened; men who severally carried for- ward the spirit of their age, who soared upward on the wings of poetry, and yet were not unfitted to penetrate the deepest recesses of the human soul, and search out the hidden treasures of wisdom, and the secret springs of thought, feeling, and action. None fought more bravely at Marathon, Salamis, and Platrea, than did the poet IEschylus. Richard Cmur-de-Lion was a poet; but his boast was in his very song: Bon guerrier Ii 1estendart Trouvaretz le Roi Richard. Ercilla and Garcilasso were poets; but the great epic of Spain was written in the soldiers tent and on the field of battle, and the descendant of the Incas was slain in the assault of a castle 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 63 in the South of France. Cervantes lost an arm at the battle of Lepanto, and Sir Philip Sidney was the breathing reality of the poets dream, a living and glorious proof, that poetry neither enervates the mind nor unfits us for the practical duties of life. Nor is it less true, that the legitimate tendency of poetry is to exalt, rather than to debase,to purify, rather than to corrupt. Read the inspired pages of the Hebrew prophets; the eloquent aspirations of the Psalmist! Where did ever the spirit of devo- tion bear up the soul more steadily and loftily, tl]an in the language of their poetry? And where has poetry been more exalted, more spirit-stirring, more admirable, or more beautiful, than when thus soaring upward on the wings of sublime devo- tion, the darkness and shadows of earth beneath it, and from above the brightness of an opened heaven pouring around it? It is true, the poetic talent may be, for it has been, most lamentably perverted. But when poetry is thus perverted, when it thus forgets its native sky to grovel in what is base, sensual, and depraved,though it may not have lost all its original brightness, nor appear less than the excess of glory obscured, yet its birth-right has been sold, its strength has been blasted, and its spirit wears deep scars of thunder. It does not, then, appear to be the necessary nor the natural tendency of poetry to enervate the mind, corrupt the heart, or incapacitate us for performing the private and public duties of life. On the contrary, it may be made, and should be made, an instrument for improving the condition of society, and advancing the great purpose of human happiness. Man must have his hours of meditation as well as of action. The unities of time are not so well preserved in the great drama, but that moments will occur, when the stage must be left vacant, and even the busiest actors pass behind the scenes. There will be eddies in the stream of life, though the main current sweeps steadily onward, till it pours in full cataract over the grave. There are times, when both mind and body are worn down by the severity of daily toil; when the grasshopper is a burden; and thirsty with the heat of labor, the spirit longs for the waters of Shdoah, that go soitly. At such seasons, both mind and body should unbend themselves; they should be set free from the yoke of their customary service, and thought take some other direction, than that of the beaten, dusty thoroughfare of business. And there are times, too, when the divinity stirs within us; when the soul abstracts herself from the world, and 64 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. the slow and regular motions of earthly business do not keep pace with the Heaven-directed mind. Then earth lets go her hold; the soul feels herself more akin to Heaven; and soaring upward, the denizen of her native sky, she begins to reason like herself, and to discourse in a strain above mortality. Call, if you will, such thoughts and feelings the dreams of the imagination; yet they are no unprofitable dreams. Such mo- ments of silence and meditation nre often those of the greatest utility to ourselves and others. Yes, we would dream awhile, that the spirit is not always the bondman of the flesh; that there is something immortal in us, something, which amid the din of life, urges us to aspire after the attributes of a more spiritual nature. Let the cares and business of the world sometimes sleep, for this sleep is the awakening of the soul. To fill up these interludes of life with a song, that shall soothe our worldly passions and inspire us with a love of Heaven and virtue, seems to he the peculiar province of poetry. On this moral influence of the poetic art, there is a beantifully written passage in the Defence of Poesy. The philosopher showeth you the way, he informeth you of the particularities, as well of the tediousness of the way and of the pleasant lodging you shall have when your journey is ended, as of the many by-turnings that may divert you from your way; but this is to no man, but to him that will read him, and read him with attentive, studious painfulness; which constant desire whosoever hath in him, hath already passed half the hardness of the way, and therefore is beholden to the philosopher but for the other half. Nay, truly, learned men have learnedly thought, that where once reason hath so much over-mastered passion, as that the mind hath a free desire to do well, the inward light each mind hath in itself is as good as a philosophers book; since in nature we know it is well to do well, and what is well and what is evil, although not in the words of art which philosophers bestow upon us; for out of natural conceit the philosophers drew it; but to be moved to do that which we know, or to be moved with desire to know, hoc opus, hic labor est. Now, therein, of all sciences (I speak still of human, and according to the human conceit,) is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it; nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the very first give you a cluster of grapes, that full of that taste you may long to pass farther. He beginneth not with obscure 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 65 definitions, which must blur the margin with interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulness, but he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well-enchanting skill of music; and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney-corner; and, pretending no more, doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue. In fine, we think that all the popular objections against poetry may be, not only satisfactorily, but triumphantly answered. They are all founded upon its abuse, and not upon its natural and legitimate tendencies. Indeed, popular judgment has sel- dom fallen into a greater error, than that of supposing that poetry must necessarily, and from its very nature, convey false and therefore injurious impressions. The error lies in not discriminating between what is true to nature, and what is true to fact. From the very nature of things, neither poetry nor any one of the imitative arts, can in itself be false. They can be false no farther than, by the imperfection of human skill, they convey to our minds imperfect and garbled views of what they represent. Hence a painting, or poetical description, may be true to nature, and yet false in point of fact. The canvass before you may represent a scene, in which every individual feature of the landscape shall be true to nature; the tree, the water-fall, the distant mountain,every object there shall be an exact copy of an original, that has a real existence, and yet the scene itself may be absolutely false in point of fact. Such a scene, with the features of the landscape combined precisely in the way represented, may exist nowhere but in the imagination of the artist. The statue of the Venus de Medici is the perfection of female beauty; and every mdi.. vidual feature had its living original. Still the statue itself had no living archetype. It is true to nature, but it is not true to fact. So with the stage. The scene represented, the charac- ters introduced, the plot of the piece, and the action of the performers may all be conformable to nature, and yet not be conformable to any pre-existing reality. The characters there personified may never have existed; the events represented~ may never have transpired. And so, too, with poetry. The scenes and events it describes; the characters and passions it portrays, may all be natural though not real. Thus, in a cer- tain sense, fiction itself may be true,true to the nature of VOL. XXXIV.No. 74. 9 66 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. things, and consequently true in the impressions it conveys. And hence the reason, why fiction has always been made so subservient to the cause of truth. Allowing, then, that poetry. is nothing but fiction; that all it describes is false in point of fact; still its elements have a real existence, and the impressions we receive can be erro- neous so far only, as the views presented to the mind are garbled and false to nature. And this is a fault incident to the artist, and not inherent in the art itself. So that we may fairly conclude, from these considerations, that the natural tendency of poetry is to give us correct moral impressions, and thereby advance the cause of truth and the improvement of society. There is another very important view of the subject, arising out of the origin and nature of poetry, and its intimate con- nexion with individual character and the character of society. The origin of poetry loses itself in the shades of a remote and fabulous age, of which we have only vague and uncertain traditions. Its fountain, like that of the river of the desert, springs up in a distant and unknown region, the theme of visionary story, and the subject of curious speculation. Doubt- less, however, it originated amid the scenes of pastoral life, and in the quiet and repose of a golden age. There is some- thing in the soft melancholy of the groves, which pervades the heart, and kindles the imagination. Their retirement is favorable to the musings of the poetic mind. The trees that waved their leafy branches to the summer wind, or heaved and groaned beneath the passing storm,the shadow moving on the grass,the buhbling brook,the insect skimming on its surface,the receding valley arid the distant mountain, these would be some of the elements of pastoral song. Its subject would naturally be the complaint of a shepherd and the charms of some gentle shepherdess, A happy soul, that all the way To Heaven, hath a summers day. It is natural, too, that the imagination, familiar with the outward world, and connecting the idea of the changing seasons and the spontaneous fruits of the earth with the agency of some un- known power, that regulated and produced them, should suggest the thought of presiding deities, propitious in the smiling sky, and adverse in the storm. The fountain that gushed up as if to meet the thirsty lip, was made the dwelling of a nymph; 68 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. but from these facts to derive some conclusions, tending to illustrate the movements of the general mind, the progress of society, the manners, customs, and institutions, the moral and intellectual character of mankind in different nations, at different times, and under the operation of different circum- stances. Historic facts are chiefly valuable, as exhibiting intel- lectual phenomena. And so far as poetry exhibits these phenomena more perfectly and distinctly than history does, so far is it. superior to history. The history of a nation is the external symbol of its character; from it, we reason back to the spirit of the age that fashioned its shadowy outline. But poetry is the spirit of the age itself,embodied in the forms of language, and speaking in a voice that is audible to the external as well as the internal sense. The one makes known the un- pulses of the popular mind, through certain events resulting from them; the other displays the more immediate presence of that mind, visible in its action, and presaging those events. The one is like the marks left by the thunder-storm,the blasted tree,the purified atmosphere; the other like the flash from the bosom of the cloud, or the voice of the tempest, announcing its approach. The one is the track of the ocean on its shore; the other the continual movement and murmur of the sea. Besides, there are epochs, which have no contemporaneous history; but have left in their popular poetry pretty ample materials for estimating the character of the times. The events, indeed, therein recorded, may be exaggerated facts, or vague traditions, or inventions entirely apocryphal; yet they faithfully represent the spirit of the ages which produced them; they contain indirect allusions and incidental circumstances, too insignificant in themselves to have been fictitious, and yet on that very account the most important parts of the poem, in a historical point of view. Such, for example, are the .JVibelungerm Lied in Germany; the Poema del Cid in Spain; and the Songs of the Troubadours in France. Hence poetry comes in for a large share in that high eulogy, which, in the true spirit of the scholar, a celebrated German critic has bes~owed upon letters: If we consider literature in its widest sense, as the voice which gives expression to human intellect, as the aggregate mass of symbols, in which the spirit of an age or the character of a nation is shadowed forth, then indeed ~ 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 69 great and various literature is, without doubt, the most valuable possession of which any nation can boast.* From all these considerations, we are forced to the con- clusion, that poetry is a subject of far greater importance in itself, and in its bearing upon the condition of society, than the ma- jority of mankind would be willing to allow. We heartily regret, that this opinion is not a more prevailing one in our land. We give too little encouragement to works of imagina- tion and taste. The vocation of the poet does not stand high enough in our esteem; we are too cold in admiration, too timid in praise. The poetic lute and the high-sounding lyre are much too often and too generally looked upon as the baubles of effeminate minds, or bells and rattles to please the ears of children. The prospect, however, brightens. But a short time ago, not a poet moved the wing, or opened the mouth, or peeped; and now we have a host of them,three or four good ones, and three or four hundred poor ones. This, however, we will not stop to cavil about at present. To those of them, who may honor us by reading our article, we would whisper this request,that they should be more original, and withal more national. It seems every way important, that now, whilst we are forming our literature, we should make it as original, characteristic, and national as possible. To effect this, it is not necessary that the war-whoop should ring in every line, and every page be rife with scalps, tomahawks and wampum. Shade of Tecumseh forbid !The whole secret lies in Sidneys maxim, Look in thy heart and write. For Cantars non pot gaire valer, Si dinz del cor no mov lo chang.t Of this anon. We will first make a few remarks upon the word national, as applied to the literature of a country; for when we speak of a national poetry, we do not employ the term in that vague and indefinite way, in which many writers use it. A national literature, then, in the widest signification of the words, embraces every mental effort made by the inhabi- tants of a country, through the medium of the press. Every * Schiegel. Lectures on the History of Literature, Vol. I. Lec. VII. t The poets song is little worth, If it moveth not from within the heart. 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 69 great and various literature is, without doubt, the most valuable possession of which any nation can boast.* From all these considerations, we are forced to the con- clusion, that poetry is a subject of far greater importance in itself, and in its bearing upon the condition of society, than the ma- jority of mankind would he willing to allow. We heartily regret, that this opinion is not a more prevailing one in our land. We give too little encouragement to works of irnagina- tion and taste. The vocation of the poet does not stand high enough in our esteem; we are too cold in admiration, too timid in praise. The poetic lute and the high-sounding lyre are much too often and too generally looked upon as the baubles of effeminate minds, or bells and rattles to please the ears of children. The prospect, however, brightens. But a short time ago, not a poet moved the wing, or opened the mouth, or peeped; and now we have a host of them,three or four good ones, and three or four hundred poor ones. This, however, we will not stop to cavil about at present. To those of them, who may honor us by reading our article, we would whisper this request,that they should be more original, and withal more national. It seems every way important, that now, whilst we are forming our literature, we should make it as original, characteristic, and national as possible. To effect this, it is not necessary that the war-whoop should ring in every line, and every page be rife with scalps, tomahawks and wampum. Shade of Tecumseh forbid !The whole secret lies in Sidneys maxim, Look in thy heart and write. For Cantars non pot gaire valer, Si dinz del cor no mov lo chang.t Of this anon. We will first make a few remarks upon the word national, as applied to the literature of a country; for when we speak of a national poetry, we do not employ the term in that vague and indefinite way, in which many writers use it. A national literature, then, in the widest signification of the words, embraces every mental effort made by the inhabi- tants of a country, through the medium of the press. Every * Schiegel. Lectures on the History of Literature, Vol. I. Lec. VII. t The poets song is little worth, If it moveth not from within the heatt. 70 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. book written by a citizen of a country belongs to its national literature. But the term has also a more peculiar and appro- priate definition; for when we say that the literature of a country is national, we mean that it bears upon it the stamp of national character. We refer to those distinguishing fea- tures, which literature receives from the spirit of a nation, from its scenery and climate, its historic recollections, its Gov- ernment, its various institutions,from all those national pecu- liarities, which are the result of no positive institutions, and, in a word, from the thousand external circumstances, which either directly or indirectly exert an influence upon the litera- ture of a nation, and give it a marked and individual character, distinct from that of the literature of other nations. In order to be more definite and more easily understood in these remarks, we will here offer a few illustrations of the influence of external causes upon the character of the mind, the peculiar habits of thought and feeling, and, consequently, the general complexion of literary performances. From the causes enumerated above, we select natural scenery and cli- mate, as being among the most obvious, in their influence upon the prevailing tenor of poetic composition. Every one who is acquainted with the works of the English Poets, must have noted, that a moral feeling and a certain rural quiet and repose are among their most prominent characteristics. The fea- tures of their native landscape are transferred to the printed rage, and as we read we hear the warble of the sky-lark, the hollow murmuring wind, or silver rain. The shadow of the woodland scene lends a pensive shadow to the ideal world of poetry. Why lure me from these pale retreats? Why rob me of these pensive sweets? Can Musics voice, can Beautys eye, Can Paintings glowing hand supply, A charm so suited to my mind, As blows this hollow gust of wind, As drops this little weeping rill Soft tinkling down the moss-grown hill, While through the west, where sinks the crimson day, Meek twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners grey ?* In the same richly poetic vein are the following lines from Collinss Ode to Evening. * Masons Ode to a Friend. 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 71 Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, rhat from the mountains side, Views wilds and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discoverd spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks oer all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil. In connexion with the concluding lines of these two extracts, and as an illustration of the influence of climate on the char- acter of poetry, it is worthy of remark, that the English Poets excel those of the South of Europe in their descriptions of morning and evening. They dwell with long delight and fre- quent repetition upon the brightening glory of the hour, when the northern wagoner has set his sevenfold teme behind the stedfast starre; and upon the milder beauty of departing day, when the bright-haird sun sits in yon western tent. What, for example, can be more descriptive of the vernal freshness of a morning in May, than the often quoted song in Cym- beline? Hark! hark! the lark at heavens gate sings, And Phmbus gins arise His steeds to water at those springs On chalicd flowers that lies: And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty bin; My lady sweet, arise; Arise, arise! How full of poetic feeling and imagery is the following description of the dawn of day, taken from Fletchers Faithful Shepherdess! See, the day begins to break, And the light shoots like a streak Of subtle fire, the wind blows cold, While the morning doth unfold; Now the birds begin to rouse, And the squirrel from the boughs Leaps, to get him nuts and fruit; The early lark, that erst was mute, Carols to the rising day Many a note and many a lay. 72 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. Still more remarkable than either of these extracts, as a graphic description of morning, is the following from Beatties Minstrel. But who the melodies of morn can tell? The wild brook babbling down the mountains side; The lowing herd; the sheepfolds simple bell; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide; The hum of bees, and linnets lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark; Crownd with her pail, the tripping milk-maid sings; The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and hark! Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings; Through rustling corn the hare astonishd springs; Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; Deep mourns the turtle in sequesterd bower; And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tower.~ Extracts of this kind we might multiply almost without number. The same may be said of similar ones, descriptive of the gradual approach of evening and the close of day. But we have already quoted enough for our present purpose. Now, to what peculiarities of natural scenery and climate may we trace these manifold and beautiful descriptions, which in their truth, delicacy and poetic coloring, surpass all the pictures of the kind in Tasso, Guarini, Boscan, Garcilasso, and, in a word, all the most celebrated poets of the South of Europe? Doubtless, to the rural beauty which pervades the English landscape, and to the long morning and evening twilight of a northern climate. Still, with all this taste for the charms of rural description and sylvan song, pastoral poetry has never been much culti- vated, nor much admired in England. The Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney, it is true, enjoyed a temporary celebrity, but this was, doubtless, owing in a great measure to the rank of its author; and though the pastorals of Pope are still read and praised, their reputation belongs in part to their authors youth at the time of their composition. Nor is this remarkable. For though the love of rural ease is characteristic of the 1832.] Defence of Poetry. 73 English, yet the rigors of their climate render their habits of pastoral life any thing but delightful. In the mind of an Englishman, the snowy fleece is more intimately associated with the weavers shuttle, than with the shepherds crook. Horace Walpole has a humorous passage in one of his letters, on the affectation of pastoral habits in England. In short, says he, every summer one lives in a state of mutiny and murmur, and I have found the reason; it is because we will affect to have a summer, and we have no title to any such thing. Our poets learnt their trade of the Romans, and so adopted the terms of their masters. They talk of shady groves, purling streams, and cooling breezes, and we get sore throats and agues by attempting to realize these visions. Master Damon writes a song, and invites Miss Chloe to enjoy the cool of the evening, and the deuce a bit have we of any such thing as a cool evening. Zephyr is a north-east wind, that makes Damon button up to the chin, and pinches Chloes nose till it is red and blue; and they cry, This is a bad Sum.. mer; as if we ever had any other. The best sun we have is made of Newcastle coal, and I am determined never to reckon upon any other. On the contrary, the poetry of the Italians, the Spanish, and the Portuguese, is redolent of the charms of pas- toral indolence and enjoyment; for they inhabit countries in which pastoral life is a reality and not a fiction, where the winter~s sun will almost make you seek the shade, and the summer nights are mild and beautiful in the open air. The babbling brook and cooling breeze are luxuries in a Southern clime, where you See the sun set, sure hell rise tomorrow, Not through a misty morning twinkling, weak as A drunken mans dead eye, in maudlin sorrow, But with all heaven t himself. A love of indolence and a warm imagination are character- istic of the inhabitants of the South. These are natural effects of a soft voluptuous climate. It is there a luxury to let the body lie at ease, stretched by a fountain in the lazy stillness of a summer noon, and suffer the dreamy fancy to lose itself in idle reverie, and give a form to the wind, and a spirit to the shadow and the leaf. Hence the prevalence of personifica- tion and the exaggerations of figurative language, so character- istic of the poetry of Southern nations. As an illustration, take VOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 10 74 Defence oJ Poetry. [Jan. the following beautiful sonnet from the Spanish. It is ad- dressed to a mountain brook. Laugh of the mountain !lyre of bird and tree! Mirror of morn, and garniture of fields! The soul of April, that so gently yields The rose and jasmin bloom, leaps wild in thee! Although, whereer thy devious current strays, The lap of earth with gold and silver teems, To me thy clear proceeding hrighter seems Than golden sands, that charm each shepherds gaze. How without guile thy bosom all transparent As the pure crystal, lets the curious eye Thy secrets scan, thy smooth round pebbles count! How, without malice murmuring, glides thy current! 0 sweet simplicity of days gone by! Thou shunnest the haunts of man, to dwell in limpid fount !~* We will pursue these considerations no longer, for fear of digressing too far. What we have already said will illustrate, perhaps superficially, hut sufficiently for our present purpose, the influence of natural scenery and climate upon the charac- ter of poetical composition. It will at least shows that in speaking of this influence, we did not speak at random and without a distinct meaning. Similar, and much more copious illustrations of the influence of various other external circuin- stances on national literature, might here be given. But it is not our intention to go into details. They will naturally sug- gest themselves to the mind of every reflecting reader. We repeat, then, that we wish our native poets would give a more national character to their writings. In order to effect * Risa del monte, de las ayes lira! pompa del prado, espejo de la aurora! alma de Ahril, espiritu de Flora por quien Ia rosa y el jazmin espira! Aunque tu curso en cuantos pasos gira tanta jurisdiccion argenta y dora, tu claro proceder mas me enamora que lo que en ti todo pastor admira. Cuan sin engaiio tus entraiias puras dejan por transparente vidriera Las guijuelas al ni~mero patentes! Cuan sin malicia c~ndida murmuras! 0 sencillez de aquella edad primera, huyes del hombre y vives en las fuentes. 1832.] Defrnce of Poetry. 75 this, they have only to write more naturally, to write from their own feelings and impressions, from the influence of what they see around them, and not from any pre-conceived notions of what poetry ought to be, caught by reading many books, and imitating many models. This is peculiarly true in de- scriptions of natural scenery. In these, let us have no more sky-larks and nightingales. For us they only warble in books. A painter might as well introduce an elephant or a rhinoceros into a New England landscape. We would not restrict our poets in the choice of their subjects, or the scenes of their story; hut when they sing under an American sky, and describe a native landscape, let the description be graphic, as if it had been seen and not imagined. We wish too, to see the figures and imagery of poetry a little more characteristic, as if drawn from nature and not from hooks. Of this we have constantly recurring examples in the language of our North American Indians. Our readers will all recollect the last words of Pushmataha, the Choctaw Chief, who died at Washington in the year 1824. I shall die, but you will return to your brethren. As you go along the paths, you will see the flowers, and hear the birds; but Pushmataha will see them and hear them no more. When you come to your home, they will ask you, where is Pushmataha? and you will say to them, He is no more. They will hear the tidings like the sound of the fall of a mighty oak in the stillness of the wood. More attention on the part of our writers, to these particulars, would give a new and delightful expression to the face of our poetry. But the difficulty is, that instead of coming forward as bold, original thinkers, they have imbibed the degenerate spirit of modern English poetry. They have hitherto been imitators either of decidedly bad, or of, at best, very indifferent models. It has beep the fashion to write strong lines,to aim at point and antithesis. This has made writers turgid and extravagant. Instead of ideas, they give us merely the signs of ideas. They erect a great bridge of words, pompous and imposing, where there is hardly a drop of thought to trickle beneath. Is not he, who thus apostrophizes the clouds, Ye posters of the wakeless air !quite as ex travagant as the Spanish poet, who calls a star, a burning doublon of the celestial bank? Doblon ardiente del celeste banco! This spirit of imitation has spread far and wide. But a 76 Defence of Poetry. (Jan. few years ago, what an aping of Lord Byron exhibited itself throughout the country! It was not an imitation of the brighter characteristics of his intellect, but a mimicry of his sullen misanthropy and irreligious gloom. We do not wish to make a bugbear of Lord Byrons name, nor figuratively to disturb his bones; still we cannot but express our belief, that no writer has done half so much to corrupt the literary taste as well as the moral principle of our country, as the author of Childe Haiold.* Minds that could not understand his beauties, could imitate his great and glaring defects. Souls that could not fathom his depths, could grasp the straw and bubbles that floated upon the agitated surface, until at length every city, town, and village had its little Byron, its self-tormenting scoffer at morality, its gloomy misanthropist in song. Happily, this noxious influence has been in some measure checked and counteracted by the writings of Wordsworth, whose pure and gentle philoso- phy has been gradually gaining the ascendency over the bold and visionary speculations of an unhealthy imagination. The sobriety, and, if we may use the expression, the republican simplicity of his poetry, are in unison with our moral and political doctrines. But even Wordsworth, with all his sim- plicity of diction and exquisite moral feeling, is a very un- safe model for imitation; and it is worth while to observe, how invariably those who have imitated him have fallen into tedious mannerism. As the human mind is so constituted, that all men receive to a greater or less degree a complexion from those with whom they are conversant, the writer who * We here subjoin Lord Byrons own opinion of tne poetical taste of the present age. It is from a letter in the second volume of Moores Life of Byron. With regard to poetry in general, I am convinced, the more I think of it, that he and all of us,Scott, Southey, Words- worth, Moore, Campbell, 1,are all in the wrong, one as much as another; that we are upon a wrong revolutionary poetical system, or systems, and from which none but Rogers and Crabbe are free; and that the present and next generations will finally be of this opinion. I am the more confirmed in this, by having lately gone over some of our classics, particularly Pope, whom I tried in this way ;I took Moores poems and my own and some others, and went over them side by side with Popes, and I was really astonished (I ought not to have been so) and mortified at the ineffable distance in point of sense, learning, effect, and even imagination, passion, and invention, between the Queen Annes man, and us of the Lower Empire. Depend upon it, it is all Horace then, and Claudian now, among us; and if I had to begin again, I would mould myself accordingly. 1832.1 Defence of Poetry. means to school himself to poetic composition,.we mean so far as regards style and diction,should be very careful what authors he studies. He should leave the present age, and go back to the olden Lime. He should make, not the writings of an individual, but the whole body of English classical literature, his study. There is a strength of expression, a clearness, and force and raciness of thought in the elder Eng- lish poets, which we may look for in vain among those who flourish in these days of verbiage. Truly the degeneracy of modern poetry is no school-boy declamation! The stream, whose fabled fountain gushes from the Grecian mount, flowed brightly through those ages, when the souls of men stood forth in the rugged freedom of nature, and gave a wild and romantic character to the ideal landscape. But in these practical days, whose spirit has so unsparingly levelled to the even surface of utility the bold irregularities of human genius, and lopped off the luxuriance of poetic feeling, which once lent its grateful shade to the haunts of song, that stream has spread itself into stagnant pools, which exhale an unhealthy atmosphere, whilst the parti-colored bubbles that glitter on its surface, show the corruption from which they spring. Another circumstance which tends to give an effeminate and unmanly character to our literature, is the precocity of our writers. Premature exhibitions of talent are an unstable foun- dation to build a national literature upon. Roger Ascham, the school-master of princes, and for the sake of antithesis, we sup- pose, called the Prince of School-masters, has well said of precocious minds; They be like trees that showe forth faire blossoms and broad leaves in spring-time, but bring out small and not long-lasting fruit in harvest-time; and that only such as fall and rott before they be ripe, and so never, or seldome come to any good at all. It is natural that the young should be enticed by the wreaths of literary fame, whose hues are so passing beautiful even to the more sober-sighted, and whose flowers breathe around them such exquisite perfumes. Many are deceived into a misconception of their talents by the indiscreet and indiscriminate praise of friends. They think themselves destined to redeem the glory of their age and country; to shine as bright particular stars; but in reality their genius Is like the glow-worms light the apes so wonderd at, Which, when they gatherd sticks and laid upon t, And blew,and blew,turnd tail and went out presently. 78 Defence of Poetry. [Jan. We have set forth the portrait of modern poetry in rather gloomy colors; for we really think, that the greater part of what is published in this book-writing age, ought in justice to suffer the fate of the children of Thetis, whose immortality was tried by fire. We hope, however, that ere long, some one of our most gifted bards will throw his fetters off, and relying on himself alone, fathom the recesses of his own mind, and bring up rich pearls from the secret depths of thought. We will conclude these suggestions to our native poets, by quoting Ben Johnsons Ode to Himself, which we address to each of them individually. Where dost thou careless lie Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge, that sleeps, doth die; And this securitie It is the common moth That eats on wits, and arts, and quite destroyes them both. Are all th Aonian springs Drid up? lies Thespia waste? Doth Clarius harp want strings, That not a nymph now sings! Or droop they as disgract, To see their seats and bowers by chattring pies defact? If hence thy silence be, As tis too just a cause, Let this thought quicken thee, Minds that are great and free Should not on fortune pause; Tis crowne enough to virtue still, her owne applause. What though the greedy fine Be taken with false baytes Of worded balladrie, And thinke it poesie? They die with their conceits, And only pitious scorne upon their folly waites. 1832.] Silli~nans Chemistry. 79 ART. IV.Sillimans Chemistry. Elements of Chemistry in the order of the Lectures given in Yale College. By BENJAMIN SILLIMAN, Professor of Chemistry, Pharmacy, Mineralogy, and Geology. In two vols. New-Haven. 1831. If the excellence of a work consist mainly in its adaptation to the professed object for which it was written, this truly is one of the best productions on the subject of Chemistry, that we have ever examined. In the preface, the author informs us, that the object of this work is to present the science in the most intelligible form to those who are learning its ele- ments; and the principles laid down, the facts adduced in sup- port of these principles, and the mode of their presentation, are all in keeping with the design. Throughout, the whole, he evi- dently proceeds on the ground that the students for whose use it was prepared, are entirely unacquainted with the subjects of which it treats; that he is writing for the novice and not for the initiated; and he endeavors, and we think very success- fully, to find his way into the mind of the pupil, and to fix there the knowledge presented to him. When Sir Humphrey Davy composed his work on Chemical - Philosophy, he had a different object in view; namely, to clas- sify and arrange the great phenomena of the science in such a manner, that Chemistry, arrayed in all the glories of his bril- liant discoveries, might not fear to take her proper rank with her sister sciences. Though he probably fell short of what was due from his fine genius, he produced a very valuable work for the master, but not such an one as the student wants. Dr. Henrys Elements of Experimental Chemistry is in some degree chargeable with the same defect; for it is evident, that his eye is directed rather to the new discoveries in the science, than to what has long been known; and that in the composition of the work he was thinking more of chemists than of learners; so that while he is careful not to depart from the dignity of science, he has failed of communicating all that interest to his work, which it ought to have to recommend it to those who have but just entered on the study of Chemistry. He is correct and discriminating, and the successive editions present a fair view of the progress of the science. But how- ever excellent the works just mentioned are, the one as show..

1832.] Silli~nans Chemistry. 79 ART. IV.Sillimans Chemistry. Elements of Chemistry in the order of the Lectures given in Yale College. By BENJAMIN SILLIMAN, Professor of Chemistry, Pharmacy, Mineralogy, and Geology. In two vols. New-Haven. 1831. If the excellence of a work consist mainly in its adaptation to the professed object for which it was written, this truly is one of the best productions on the subject of Chemistry, that we have ever examined. In the preface, the author informs us, that the object of this work is to present the science in the most intelligible form to those who are learning its ele- ments; and the principles laid down, the facts adduced in sup- port of these principles, and the mode of their presentation, are all in keeping with the design. Throughout, the whole, he evi- dently proceeds on the ground that the students for whose use it was prepared, are entirely unacquainted with the subjects of which it treats; that he is writing for the novice and not for the initiated; and he endeavors, and we think very success- fully, to find his way into the mind of the pupil, and to fix there the knowledge presented to him. When Sir Humphrey Davy composed his work on Chemical - Philosophy, he had a different object in view; namely, to clas- sify and arrange the great phenomena of the science in such a manner, that Chemistry, arrayed in all the glories of his bril- liant discoveries, might not fear to take her proper rank with her sister sciences. Though he probably fell short of what was due from his fine genius, he produced a very valuable work for the master, but not such an one as the student wants. Dr. Henrys Elements of Experimental Chemistry is in some degree chargeable with the same defect; for it is evident, that his eye is directed rather to the new discoveries in the science, than to what has long been known; and that in the composition of the work he was thinking more of chemists than of learners; so that while he is careful not to depart from the dignity of science, he has failed of communicating all that interest to his work, which it ought to have to recommend it to those who have but just entered on the study of Chemistry. He is correct and discriminating, and the successive editions present a fair view of the progress of the science. But how- ever excellent the works just mentioned are, the one as show.. 80 Si,llimans Chemistry. [Jan. ing great genius in generalizing, and the other a sound judg- ment, they are neither of them well adapted to he text-books in our colleges. In the preface to the work before us, the author remarks, that The materials of this work have been gradually accumulating since 1802. They have been drawn from scientific journals, from the transactions of learned societies, and from the principal writers who have flourished since the middle of the last century, the Augustan age of Chemistry. From works of an earlier date, light has been occasionally derived, as well as from notes and recollections of the instructions of the distinguished teachers, to whom the author was formerly so happy as to listen. In this view, he takes particular satisfaction in naming the late Dr. Mur- ray of Edinburgh, and Professor Thomas C. Hope, still a distin- guished ornament of the university in the same city. Various notices, derived from the authors own experience, and from his personal communications with others, are intro- duced, with occasional figures, for illustration; and in the notes, many miscellaneous facts are preserved. In the immediate preparation of this work for the press, the original memoirs of authors and discoverers have been often con- sulted, and the abstract has been frequently drawn from them, rather than from the elementary books; but the analyses con- tained in the latter have not unfrequently been adopted; some- times even after a careful examination of the original; and for this reason, among others, that the statements contained in them could be often, without injury, still further abridged. In such cases, several eminent elementary writers have been diligently compared on the same subject; and thus omissions have been supplied, and obscurity has been removed, either by the compari- son or by resorting to the first record. References to the original memoirs have been always pre- served, when such memoirs were attainable; and when the books containing them were not at hand, the citations have been copied from the latest systematical writers. Credit has also, in most instances, been given to elementary writers for materials drawn from their pages; but for brevity, and especially when the facts are the common stock of the science, the references have been sometimes omitted, or an initial letter only retained. There are, however, some works, to which a more particular acknowledge- ment is due. Those of Bergman and Scheele; the lectures of Dr. Black, by Robison; the system of Dr. Thomson, in all its editions, and also his more recent work on the First Principles of Chemistry; the Dictionaries of Nicholson, Aikins, and IJre, 1832.] & lbmans Chemistry. 81 the Compendium of Dr. Hare, the Dispensatory of Dr. Coxe, the Technology of Dr. Bigelow, the Operative Chemist of Gray, and the Chemical Manipulation of Mr. Faraday; the System of the late Dr. Murray, and his Elements, ably edited by his son; as also tht~ writings of Mr. Dalton; the works of Lavoisier, Chaptal, Berthollet, and Fourcroy; the System of Th~nard, in its most recent edition, and his miscellaneous writings, especially in con- nexion with Gay-Lussac; and those of Dr. Priestley, Bishop Wat- son, Mr. Parkes, Professor Berzelius, and Sir H. Davy, including also his Elements ;these are among the leading authorities, although it would be easy to increase the catalogue. A recent work by Dr. Turner, of the London University, has been of great utility. It is highly scientific and very exact, par- ticularly on the facts and doctrines of definite and multiple pro- portions, and combining equivalents; and many of its details have been adopted. Preface, pp. 4, 5. After the preface comes the pian of the work, which we shall again have occasion to notice, and then follows an intro- duction, containing a spirited sketch of the main branches of natural science, and the connexion between them. CHEMISTRY. The remaining branch of science relating to natural bodies, begins where natural philosophy and natural his- tory stop. As the gleanings of its early history may be found in the prefaces of the larger elementary works on Chemistry, we shall here omit the vague annals of its infancy, and the delusions of its middle age. It would exceed our limits to trace the progress of Chemistry from age to age ; to unfold the delusions of ALCHEMY, whose object was to discover the philosophers stone, an imaginary sub- stance, which, it was supposed, would convert the baser metals into gold or silver, or to speak of the equally delusive pursuit after the GRAND CATITOLIcON, or universal remedy, which was to remove every disease; to avert death, and confer terrestrial immortality on man; or to mention the imaginary ALCAHEST, or universal solvent, whose power it was supposed nothing could re- sist. The alchemists indeed imagined, that these miraculous virtues resided in one and the same substance, and during the dark ages, most of the cultivators of what was then called Chem- istry, smitten with the delirium of Alchemy, pursued their occult processes in cells and caverns, remote from the light of heaven, and wasted their days and nights, their talents and fortunes, in a vain pursuit. The alchemist, however, accumulated many valu- able facts, which have been employed with good advantage, in laying the foundations of modern Chemical Science. vOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 11 52 Sillimans Chemistry. [Jan. Some knowledge of chemical arts is coeval with the earliest stages of human society; and it has happened with this, as with other branches of natural knowledge, that many facts were dis- covered and accumulated, in the practice of the arts, and in do- mestic economy, long before any general truths were established, by a course of inductive reasoning, upon the phenomena. The arts are all either mechanical or chemical, and not un- frequently both are involved in the same processes. The prac- tices of the arts may be regarded as experiments in natural phi- losophy and chemistry. The object of the arts is usually gain; but he, or any other person, who views the facts correctly, may reason upon them advantageously, and thus obtain important in- struction. The Science of Chemistry, considered as a collection of ele- mentary truths derived from the study of facts, can scarcely be referred to a period much beyond the commencement of the last century, and its principal triumphs have been achieved since the middle of that period. It would be premature, to detail on the present occasion, the particular discoveries, which, like stars, rising successively above the horizon, have broken forth in rapid succession. Those discoveries, their periods and their authors, will be mentioned, in giving the history of each particular sub- stance. At present, it would not be proper to attempt any thing more than to convey to those to whom the subject may be new, a general conception of the nature, extent and objects of the 5cience of Chemistry, reserving the details for the time when they will be both the most intelligible and the most interesting. ~DEFINITION.* Ghemistry is that science which investigates the composition of all bodies, and the laws by which it is governed. Not satisfied with the knowledge of the external properties and the mechanical relations, which are unfolded by natural history and by physics, but taking them into view, and retaining and using their principal discoveries, chemistry proceeds to inves- tigate the hidden constitution of every species of material exist~ ence in earth, sea, and air. Earth, air, fire, and water, were the four elements of the ancient school. They have, however, yielded to analysis, and water, bland and simple as it seems, contains two bodies, whose properties are entirely different from its own and from those of each other; burning, when mingled and ignited in large quanti- ties, with violent explosion; and in a small stream, with a heat, which melts and dissipates the firmest substances. We should never have conjectured that water, whose great prerogative it is * For various definitions the student may see the principal authors, Thompson, Fourcroy, Henry, Murray, La Grange, Th~nard, Davy, ]3rande, Turner, Hare, and others. 1832j Sillimans Chemistry. 83 to extinguish fire, contains both a combustible and a supporter of combustion. The air, the pabulum of life to the whole animal and vegetable creation, mild and negative like water, is not simple, but inci- dentally contains many bodies,essentially, however, only two; one of which, and that constituting four-fifths of the whole, is, and was intended to be, in a high degree noxious and even deadly to animal life, and fatal to combustion. The air does not destroy life instead of invigorating our frames, and extinguish instead of inflaming combustion, because the prevalent noxious principle of the air (nitrogen) is balanced by a life arid fire- sustaining principle, (oxygen) too vigorous to be trusted alone, and therefore diluted exactly to the proper degree by the opposite principle; both being, by another extraordinary provision, sus~ tamed, in constant proportion, and thus producing a salubrious and unchanging atmosphere. The earth under our feet, the soil, the sand, the gravel, the firm substance of the rocks, is not simple. In this ancient but assumed element, we have a double complexness. The one imagined simple earth contains at least nine, and each of these is again complex, containing for one principle, oxygen, the same that exists both in water and in the atmosphere, united to nine or ten varieties of metals or combustibles, none of which are known in common life. He who is acquainted with the wonderful effects of chemical combination, will not think it strange that half the weight of marble is carbonic acid, and that metals, when combined with oxygen, resemble very exactly the earthly substances. Light as well as heat, is contained in common fire, and there- fore it is not simple, unless fire and heat are varieties of one and the same thing. Modern research has proved that, besides light, which, in its seven prismatic colors, is contained in the solar beam, there is also, in this emanation, an opake, radiant principle, which accom- panying light and heat, neither warms nor illuminates, but acts to decompose certain chemical compounds; that there are opake rays which warm but do not illuminate, and illuminating rays which are cold to the sense of living animals, but impart to the universe its splendid drapery of colors; and that, associated with one or more of these emanations, there is a surprising power, which imparts magnetism to a needle, and gives it the properties of the load-stone. But we have used the word element without defining it. An element is an undecomposable body ,it is therefore siniple, or in other words, not reducible to any other form of existence. 84 Sillimans Chemistry. [Jan. We must, however, care fully distinguish between real elements, and those which are such only in relation to the present state of our knowledge. When modern science speaks of a body as elementary, it intends nothing more than that it has not been decomposed. It is therefore simple as far as we know, but it is possible that by future efforts, it may be decomposed. Although we have no reason to doubt that there are real elements, we cannot say that we are certainly in possession of any one element. It is, however, perfectly safe to reason upon bodies as elementary, until they are proved to be compound. Iron is, as far as we know, a simple body; we cannot as yet exhibit it in any simple form; all we can do, is to alter its size and figure, without at all changing its nature. But iron rust, or the scales which fly off when red hot iron is hammered, are not simple; they consist of iron combined with oxygen, one of the principles of the atmos- phere; we can explain these substances in a simpler form; the iron which they contain can be separated from the aerial prin- ciple, and both can be exhibited apart, and thus the proof will be complete; red lead and red precipitate are still better exam- ples, because the former can be partially, and the latter wholly, brought back to the condition of metals, by simply heating them. The four ancient elements, earth, air, fire, and water, were assumed at hazard, because they are so conspicuous and impor- tant; the conception was grand, but it was wholly erroneous. Instead of four elements, we have at the present time not less than fifty, nearly four fifths of which are metals; the remainder are chiefly combustibles and bodies which, combining with com- bustibles and metals with peculiar energy, are generally called supporters of combustion.* Our simple bodies then are, 1. Metals, about . . . . . . . 401 2. Combustibles not metallic, . . . . 74- 3. Principlesorsupportersofcombustion, . 2or3 4. One body, or possibly two,t of an undetermined character, in all . . . . 50 or 51 5. Imponderable bodies, light, heat, and electricity; besides the power called magnetism and the other varieties of attraction. * Some object to this phrase, preferring to consider combustion as being only an example of intense chemical action; this view is philosophical; but combustion is so frequent an occurrence, and in- volves so many important chemical events, that it is convenient, in accordance with the general practice of mankind, to designate it and the bodies contained in it, by a peculiar phraseology. ~ It is perhaps doubtful, where some of these bodies ought to be classed,whether among metals or combustibles. 4 Perhaps silicon and bromine;, we have, however, classed them where they appear to belong. 1832.] Sillimarts Chemistry. 85 The principal object of Chemistry is to display, first, the great powers upon which its phenomena depend; and, secondly, the properties of the elements, the mode and energy of their action, the combinations which they are capable of forming, the proper- ties of the resulting compounds, and the laws by which they are governed. This statement obviously includes all bodies, natural and artificial. There are many chemical compounds made by art, which, as far as we are informed, do not exist in nature, and there are many natural bodies which art has not yet been able to imitate. Vol. I. Introduction, pp. 1419. We have already expressed the opinion, that this work is eminently adapted to the object for which it was prepared, and one circumstance which shows that it is so, is the vast number of interesting facts contained in it, illustrating most distinctly and satisfactorily the principles of Chemistry. They are drawn, not merely from the experiments of the laboratory, but likewise from the shop of the artist, and the grand processes of nature. They are not only such as are found scattered through elementary works and scientific journals, but they are also such as the author himself gathered from his own expe- rience and observation, during the nearly thirty years which he has devoted to the subject. They are also, many of them at least, related in a manner so distinct, graphic, and attractive, as to prove that he is not only a close observer, but a warm admirer of this class of the phenomena of nature. Now this is just what the student wants, as one said a few days since, who was endeavoring to glean some knowledge from a dry text-book. I should be very much interested in Chemistry, if I could find data. It is peculiarly a science dependent upon facts, which are needed to give a local habita- tion to its doctrines; and without them, though one should write a system with all the acuteness of Aristotle, and the elegance of Plato, it would not interest a novice any more, than would a metaphysical system of divinity, compared with the narrations of the Evangelists. Every science has its metaphysics, and we know there are some who would prefer a cold statement of the abstract principles of Chemistry; just as there are those, who, from their attachment to Anatomy, would feel more in- terest in a naked skeleton than they would in a form through which life pours its mantling tide, and in which intelligence dwells. And we apprehend that in the progress of investiga- tion and discovery, the tendency is to lay aside facts and to dwell on principles. One chemical philosopher, in all the 86 Sillimans Chemistry. [Jana ardor of original investigation, arrives at certain conclusions, which he publishes to the world with the facts upon which they are built, and the uses to which they can be applied. Another, adopting these conclusions as his premises, while he says little about those facts or those uses, presses on in the field of discovery, and in his turn enlarges the boundaries of knowledge. And it has happened, that some of the late works on this source are very deficient in those interesting phe- nomena, upon which its great principles are founded, and in the discussion of the practical application of those principles; while they are fuller than the older systems of the doctrines of the science. This is the case with Dr. Turners recent work; which is worthy of all praise for the philosophical accuracy of its statements, and yet has very little attraction for one who has just entered on the study of the science, as we have had good opportunity of knowing. And here we are happy to fortify our opinions, by quoting the kindred sentiments of Dr. Ure, from the preface of his Dictionary of Chemistry. It must however be confessed, that the listlessness with which chemical systems are frequently perused, is not entirely the fault of the reader. Too many of these books are dry compilations of names, qualities and numbers, in methodical complexity, con- taining no intelligible examples of chemical inquiry; nay, hardly a trace of the genius of discovery or of the splendid course which it has run. The same good judgment which appears in the selection of a great number of facts, led the author to dwell on those doc- trines, that are the most important and interesting; and this is another circumstance, which renders the work well adapted to the purpose for which it was prepared. When Nicholas Le- mery published his course of Chemistry, we are told that it was devoured like a novel, and we are disposed to believe, that by a selection, of certain topics, illustrated in a suitable manner, a book might be prepared which would be equally attractive at the present time. Let the grand doctrine of caloric be ex- hibited, with its various phenomena of radiation and slow com- munication; in its vanishing and re-appearing forms, according as it becomes latent or sensible, with its several sources and its powerful effects, whether they are seen in clothing the earth with verdure and working into life the tribes that people it; in changing the dimensions and the state of bodies by its expand- 1832.] Sillimans Chemistry. 87 ing and decomposing power; or as they appear in the steam- engine, the noblest trophy of the conquest of science over na- ture; and in the volcano, which sends forth from the interior of the earth its desolating flood. Let the simple combustibles, such as carbon, phosphorus, sulphur, and hydrogen find a place; and the grand supporter of combustion, oxygen, in its several states, solid in union with the metals, liquid in the water we drink, gaseous in the air we breathe; united with one class of bodies to form the alkalies, earths and oxyds, and with another to form the common acids; expanded in large quantities to support animal life, and, by a beautiful arrange- ment of Providence, restored to the atmosphere by the vege- table creation. To these should be added chlorine, some of the more important metals, some of the proximate vegetable principles. It would be highly important not to omit galvanism, with its wonderful phenomena, and the laws of affinity, espe- cially as they are exhibited in the doctrines of definite propor- tion. Let these and some other topics be selected and pre- sented with sufficient detail in an appropriate form, and in the same spirit with which Sir Humphrey Davy wrote his last work, though ifl a less ambitious style, and the science could not fail of awakening a deep interest, and of securing more attention than it now does. Chemistry has become very extensive in its ordinary branches and applications, and we see not why the same course should not be taken in preparing works for the learner, on this as on most of the other sciences. He who prepares a work for schools and colleges, on arithmetic, or algebra, or geometry, does not think it necessary to include in it the theory of numbers, or of analytical functions, or the porisms recorded by Pappus; and for the plain reason, that these in- vestigations would not only be of no use to the student in his incipient course, but from their intricacy, would be actually discouraging and repulsive. But in the larger works on Chem- istry, such as for instance, Thompsons, Murrays and Henrys, there are subjects introduced, with which it is impossible that a student should become acquainted in the time usually allot- ted to the study of Chemistry in our colleges, and which must serve only as stumbling-blocks in his way. We are happy to find that M. Lavoisier justifies this view of the subject, in the course which he took in the composi- tion of his work; though the reasons for it, owing to the pro- 88 Sillimans Chemistry. [Jan. gress of the science, are much stronger now than they were when he wrote. Having omitted the subject of affinities, he remarks in his preface that he had done so, because he con- sidered the science of affinities as holding the same place with regard to the other branches of Chemistry, that the higher or transcendental Geometry does with respect to the simple and elementary part.~ In the work before us, Professor Silliman, while he has conformed to the common mode of saying something on every substance, has, for the most part, bestowed attention upon each according to its relative importance, presenting some of them in a strong light, and casting into the shade others of less importance. The next circumstance to be mentioned, which renders this work well adapted to the object for which it was prepared, is its arrangement. Had it been prepared for the purpose of present- ing to thorough-bred chemists a logical view of the various substances in nature in their relations to each other, perhaps the order in which the subjects are treated, would not have been in every respect the most scientific; while it may be the best that could be devised for those for whose use it was especially designed, and who are supposed to know absolutely nothing on the subject of Chemistry. The problem to be solved was, what is the arrangement best adapted to awaken and sustain an interest in their minds, and communicate to them clear and adequate views of the science? and from his long experience and great success as a teacher, we think that no one is better qualified than the author to furnish a solution. There is an inherent difficulty in the case, which does not exist in the exact sciences, and it is not surprising that a man trained in these, should be dissatisfied with any system that can be proposed. Bodies are frequently related to each other in themselves, or in their proximate principles, or in their ultimate principles. For instance, carbonate of potash and carbonate of soda agree with each other in being made up in part of carbonic acid ; and after this is removed by lime, the two substances, potash and soda, agree in being made up in part of oxygen; and after this is removed by iron turnings or charcoal, the two substances agree in being metallic. Now let a classification be adopted, founded on either of these relations, and there will be practical inconveniences of one kind or another, if the system be carried through. For particular bodies it would 1832.] Sillimans Chemistry. 89 not be very difficult to determine what should be the arrange- ment, yet a mode that would answer for these, would not answer for all others. Among the British chemists, there is considerable diversity in their systems of arrangement, and which of them has adopted the best, it would be rather diffi- cult to say; we are sure it is not Dr. Thompson, however meritorious he may be in other respects. We are inclined to believe that too much importance has been attached to a logical system, just as theologians formerly thought lightly of doctrines, which could not find a place in some body of divinity. Instead of entering at large into arguments in support of our opinion, we shall barely allow ourselves space to quote a paragraph from Dugald Stexvart s Dissertation on the Progress of Philosophy. Page 248, 1 dis. part II. The passion of the Germans for systems, is a striking feature in their literary taste, and is sufficient of itself to show that they have not yet passed their noviciate in philosophy. To all such, says Mr. Mc Laurin, as have just notions of the Great Author of the Universe and of his admirable workmanship, all complete and finished systems must appear suspicious.~~ At the time when he wrote, such systems had not wholly lost their partisans in England, and the name of system continued to be the favorite title for a book, even among writers of the very first reputation. Hence the System of Moral Philosophy, by Hutcheson, and the Complete System of Optics, by Smith, titles which, when compared with the subsequent progress of these sciences, reflect some degree of ridicule upon their authors. In the plan of the work before us the author remarks, I have not thought it best to describe the simple substances in uninterrupted succession. Such a method does not appear to me to present advantages sufficient to compensate for the incon- venience of plunging at once into the most complex parts of the science; which must be done, if we would draw the elementary bodies from their combinations, and present them in the begin- ning in a connected view. p. 1. The natural process of acquiring knowledge is the analytical, or the progress from the complex to the simple, from the whole to its parts ; the shortest is the synthetic, that is, from the simple to the complex; from the parts to the whole; and this is the course now more generally pursued in Chemistry. If our knowledge were perfect, this would be not only the most obvious, but the best process; and perhaps that mode will be found to combine VOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 12 90 Sillimans Chemistry. [Jan. most advantages, which unites them both. With this view, I have therefore sometimes adopted the one and sometimes the other, aiming to present the most important elements and com- binations as early as possible. p. 2. In teaching, the great object should be, to find our way into the mind of the pupil, and to fix there the knowledge that we present to him. He is ordinarily no judge of our theoretical views, with regard to classification and arrangement; he will in most cases even fail to understand us, when we discuss them; and he will be best satisfied with that course, which, in the most interesting and intelligible manner, presents to him the greatest amount of useful knowledge. Both in my public courses of lectures, and in the present work, I have, therefore, considered this object as paramount in importance to every other. p. 3. Another circumstance which adds very much to the value of the work, is this, that it presents the doctrines of Chemistry in their connexion with the practical arts of life. There is enough, indeed, in the grand and beautiful phenomena they unfold, to awaken interest and secure a generous and lasting attachment to the science from its own intrinsic excellence and beauty. But it must be confessed, that the amor habendi has gained a place in so many hearts, that even science her- self is loved mainly for the dower she brings. You must con- vince men that Chemistry will enable them to increase their wealth, before they will consider the study of it as worthy of their attention. It was said by one, who had borne the honors of his country, and by his counsels had helped to increase her resources, in speaking of a young lady who was about to com- mence the study of Chemistry, Why, if it will help her to make a better pudding, let her study it. Now to men of this class, who value every thing as it contributes to the amount of national or individual wealth, Chemistry, in its application to the arts, presents strong claims, as the experience of France can testify. Formerly, the arts were enveloped in mystery and concealment. They stood separate from each other, and a knowledge of some one of them was frequently transmitted from father to son as a valuable inheritance. But the lights of modern Chemistry have disclosed these confidently treasured secrets; and besides introducing a great many new arts, have shown a connexion between those already known, that was not suspected to exist before. It is in this way that Chemistry, by discovering the laws of nature, has been a source of wealth to those who have applied 1832.] Crokers Roswell. 91 these laws to the practical arts of life, and enabled them to realize for themselves and their country, that of which the votaries of alchemy only dreamed. Professor Silliman has generally mentioned the uses to which the various substances described are applied, and not unfrequently, some of the processes by which this application is made. As, for instance, under silicia, he mentions some par- ticulars concerning the manufacture of glass; tinder alumina, the process for making porcelain and pottery; and under nitre, the mode in which gunpowder is made. This work was needed. It was due from the author that he should promote the science by his pen, as he had long done by his lectures. It was due to the Institution with which he has been connected, with so much reputation to both. The science has undergone almost as many changes as the objects in the vegetable, the animal, and mineral king- doms, which it investigates, though no valuable truth is lost. Omnia mutantur, nil intent. Take as an instance the theories of combustion. At one time, the doctrine of phlogiston pre- vailed, with its successive modifications. In place of this, the views of Lavoisier were brought forward, and his house, we are told, became a temple of science, where the Parisian chemists held a festival, at which Madame Lavoisier, in the habit of a priestess, burnt Stahls Fundamenta on an altar, while solemn music played a requiem to the departed system. Then followed the doctrines of Davy. A science thus con- stantly changing requires a work suited to its present condition, enriched as it has been within a few years by a succession of brilliant and useful discoveries, and such a work is the one before us. ART. V.Crokers Boswell. The Life of Samuel Johnson, L.L. D. Including a Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. By JAMES Bos- WELL, Esq. .1 New Edition. With numerous .ddditions and Notes. By JOHN WILsoN CROKER, L.L. D. F. R. S. In five volumes octavo. London. 1831. We do not know the literary work, which has acquired a greater or more universal popularity than 2Boswells Life of

1832.] Crokers Roswell. 91 these laws to the practical arts of life, and enabled them to realize for themselves and their country, that of which the votaries of alchemy only dreamed. Professor Silliman has generally mentioned the uses to which the various substances described are applied, and not unfrequently, some of the processes by which this application is made. As, for instance, under silicia, he mentions some par- ticulars concerning the manufacture of glass; tinder alumina, the process for making porcelain and pottery; and under nitre, the mode in which gunpowder is made. This work was needed. It was due from the author that he should promote the science by his pen, as he had long done by his lectures. It was due to the Institution with which he has been connected, with so much reputation to both. The science has undergone almost as many changes as the objects in the vegetable, the animal, and mineral king- doms, which it investigates, though no valuable truth is lost. Omnia mutantur, nil intent. Take as an instance the theories of combustion. At one time, the doctrine of phlogiston pre- vailed, with its successive modifications. In place of this, the views of Lavoisier were brought forward, and his house, we are told, became a temple of science, where the Parisian chemists held a festival, at which Madame Lavoisier, in the habit of a priestess, burnt Stahls Fundamenta on an altar, while solemn music played a requiem to the departed system. Then followed the doctrines of Davy. A science thus con- stantly changing requires a work suited to its present condition, enriched as it has been within a few years by a succession of brilliant and useful discoveries, and such a work is the one before us. ART. V.Crokers Boswell. The Life of Samuel Johnson, L.L. D. Including a Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. By JAMES Bos- WELL, Esq. .1 New Edition. With numerous .ddditions and Notes. By JOHN WILsoN CROKER, L.L. D. F. R. S. In five volumes octavo. London. 1831. We do not know the literary work, which has acquired a greater or more universal popularity than 2Boswells Life of 92 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. Johnson. It gives us the history and much of the, conversa- tion of a man of vast intellectual power, who, though weighed down by many infirmities both of body and mind, and enslaved by some unfortunate prejudices, has taken his place among the greatest names of England, and will maintain it till all the pages in which her literature is engrossed shall become dust and ashes. His writings are works of great and various inter- est, though at times unequal; the same inequality abounds in his life, in which weakness and power, dishonor and glory, were strangely combined ; his conversation is a display of unrivalled fulness and strength. All, who know how to estimate charac- ter and talent, have united in admiration of the virtues and powers of Johnson; for we have observed, that while many feel disgust at his occasional rudeness, and others profess to disdain his infirmities, all men of cultivated taste, who are able to take a view of the whole man at once, are ready to do rev- erence to his mighty name, and are really grateful to Boswell for that minuteness of record and description, which has brought so much ridicule and censure upon that worthys devoted head. It has been very common, to speak of the biographer of Johnson in terms of contempt. He has been heavily charged with violating the intimacy of friendship and the sacredness of private life, in giving the character and habits of Johnson so openly to the world; but it should be stated, at the same time, that he did it not in malice but admiration, and that he was sustained in it by the authority of Johnson himself. The Tour to the Hebrides, which is even more l)articular in these points than the Life, was submitted to Johnson, who, far from disap- proving, added to it some of his own recollections. Sir John Hawkins states, that when Johnson himself was charged with being guilty of the same offence in his Lives of the Poets, he said, The business of a biographer is to give an exact account of the person whose life he is writing, and to discriminate him from others by any peculiarities of character and sentiment he may happen to have. So that, in the opinion of the person most interested, Boswell is clearly justified in what he has done. The truth is, that mankind are much more apt to out- pour their indignation on follies than on vices; and to this taste on their part, Bosxvell, who was highly gifted with the former attributes, has always been a victim. It is evident enough from his own portrait by his own partial hand, that he was vain to a degree which irritated his inferiors; that his curiosity was 1832.] Crokers Boswell. 93 intense and prying; that he had a feverish passion for excite- ment, which made it his special delight to attend intellectual parties and public executions, and all scenes that could for the moment interest a mind whose activity was far beyond its strength. But it seems ahsurd to deny, that he had the ca- pacity to estimate and the taste to enjoy the intellectual society of such a man as Johnson. We remember that Dr. Clarke, the traveller, says, that for the sake of Tweddells society, he would have consented to black his shoes; and we can readily believe that Boswell was influenced by a similar enthusiasm in the case of Johnson, whose conversation would certainly repay such attentions and sacrifices as well as that of any man who ever existed. Boswell certainly looked up to him with reverence and regard; and not expecting to find in a vast cathedral the comfort and elegance of a modern mansion, he suhmitted patiently to much inconvenience, in his admiration of the solemn grandeur of Johnsons mind. The feeling itself was doubtless praiseworthy and sincere, though it led him oc- c asionally into ludicrous embarrassments and humiliations. Certain it is, that he was welcome in societies, where contempt- ible men did not easily win their way. if we wanted more evidence of this fact than his own book affords, we have it offered hv Cumberland, who, excepting in his estimate of him- self, was very impartial. The book of Boswell is ever as the year comes round, my winter evenings entertainment; I loved the man; he had great convivial powers, and an inexhaustihle fund of good humor in society; nohody could detail the spirit of a conversation in the true style and character of the parties, more happily than my friend James Boswell. The man to whom such an unsolicited testimony is given long after his death hy a just observer, is not to he thought of with disdain, simply because he had his share of those follies from which no man is free, and was too unreserved to hide them as others do from the public eye. It is a curious trait in the history of public opinion, that Boswell should be ridiculed for submitting patiently to the huf- fetings of Johnson, and by those, too, who would think nothing more natural than to endure the insults of great mnen,~-states- men, lords, and kings. For a poor pedant to assume these airs, and for the son of an aristocratic family to give way to them, seems to such men unnatural and revolting to the last degree. We think, on the contrary, that if such tyranny should 94 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. ever be submitted to, it should be in reverence for the majesty of mind; this is the only earthly sovereignty, to which the knee of man should bow. To us, this loyalty to one who ruled by the divine right of talent, seems no more absurd or excessive, than if it had been paid to an adulterous generation of kings. But while the feeling was well enough, the way in which it was manifested, was sometimes very grotesque and amusing. On one occasion, when Johnson had maltreated him, Boswell remonstrated, declaring, that he did not like to be tossed, ex- cept when friends were present, because in a company of enemies or strangers, he fell upon stones; adding, I think this is a pretty good image, sir. Sir, said Johnson, it is one of the happiest I ever heard ; and Boswell, in his own inimitable way, not perceiving that the Doctors design was to negotiate a treaty, accepts the compliment with delight. But it is diffi- cult to avoid smiling, when Boswell, after having received a salute, which might have come from the heel of a charger, rubs the wounded part, and excuses it as pretty Fannys way. It reminds us of the words of-the poet, where the lover admits that the fair had reason to be offended, but thinks it necessary at the same time to file a protest in the touching words, You need not have kicked me down stairs. The character of Johnson himself, has not escaped without its share of derision. Every thing about him was striking; so that those who consider only his infirmities see little in him to respect; and those who are impressed by his virtues, which were many and great, are apt to make too little allowance for the prejudice of others against him. In every estimate of his character it must be taken into view, that his virtues were the result of principle, and that when he exercised them, he was compelled to strive under the burden of a frame which weighed like a mill-stone upon his mind. Almost all his senses were miserably defective ; his sight was so dim, that he was a stran- ger to the beauty of the visible world, which has power, in in- tellectual men, to calm the soul like the sweet expression of a friendly face; his hearing so dull, that it admitted him but half way into social enjoyment, and left him a prey to those jeal- ousies, with whkh the deaf are so often tormented; his nervous system so shattered, that he was kept in perpetual irritation, and all these evils made still more grievous by the want of a 1832.] Crokers Boswell. home; for we take it that his own house, infested as it was by inmates, whose whole employment it was to receive and coni- plain of his charity, or like ancient Pistol to eat and swear, was any thing but a proper and grateful home for one whose life was a long disease. Those who are unacquainted with bodily infirmity will see but a slender apology in this, and ac-~ cordingly Johnson has found little mercy among that large portion of mankind who are innocent, solely because they are not tempted. But it would seem from the concurrent testi- mony of his friends, that he labored under constant depression, arising doubtless from a disordered frame; he dreaded soli- tude, which threw him back upon himself so much, that he would passionately entreat his friends not to leave him; his letters abound in affecting representations of his own misery, and if his own word, which never was broken, is believed, he hardly knew one happy day in his life from its beginning to its close. He was so wholly unacquainted with this happiness, that he did not credit its existence. When a gentleman said of a cer- tain lady, that she was happy, Johnson replied, Sir, if she is really the contented being she professes herself, her life gives the lie to every research of human nature. The woman is ugly, sickly, foolish, and poor; would it not make a man hang himself, to hear such a creature call itself happy? Boswell himself, who finds so much fault with the other biographers, has done more than any other to bring suspicions upon Johnsons character. In the close of his work, he launches into a pompous declamation upon Johnsons early errors, and, by the alarming mystery of his manner, contrives to give the impression that Johnson had indulged in almost every excess. He would have been shocked, had he perceived what gross and unfounded imputations he was throwing on the character of his friend; but when he had once entered on this exalted key, it was as Cuddie said of Mause, stop her wha can. Without knowing his bearing, on he went exulting to the close of the discussion, and afterwards seems to have thought it far too choice to be altered. Johnson had a self-accusing spirit, and small transgressions often weighed heavily on his mind. We know the strange penance which he undertook to do for a single act of disobedience to his father, and similar offences were retained and magnified in his mind, till they seemed to him like enormous crimes. Boswell could not bear to seem ignorant of any facts in his personal history, and therefore af 96 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. fe so much wisdom on a subject where he had not even the knowledge which the injudicious publication of the Prayers and Meditations has now confided to the world. We are glad to see thaf the editor of this work censures this amazing indis- cretion, and shows that there is no ground whatever for sup- posing that Johnson ever fell into the unmoral excesses, which Boswells dissertation would imply. Haying disposed of this i[nputation, which the reader will find ably remarked upon by Mr. Croker, nothing remains which can affect the character of Johnson, except that rough- ness of manner, which induced some one to call him a tremen- dous companion. This, no doubt, was abundantly trying; but after all, uncultivated excellence is much better than elegance without virtue. There were instances, in which his severity was not uncalled for. Hawkins tells us, that once a man of some distinction used many oaths in his presence, and Johnson said, Sir, all this swearing does nothing for our story; I beg you will not swear. The narrator went on, and Johnson again said, Sir, I must entreat you again not to swear. He swore again, and Johnson left the room. Sometimes it was sarcasm carried a little too far, though provoked by affec- tation. Thus Madame Piozzi informs us, that a young fellow lamenting to him that he had lost all his Greek; Sir, said Johnson, it happened at the same time that I lost all my great estate in Yorkshire. He often felt that he was not well treated, and, conscious of his own superiority, resented it more than was consistent with good taste or feeling. Often his rude- ness was provoked by Boswell himself; thus, when he refused to see Lord Marchmont, and spoke impatiently of a visit from General Oglethorpe, it is very manifest that he thought, and not without reason, that his officious friend had exacted these attentions from them. It is generally supposed, that Johnson had enjoyed the advantages of polite society so much, as to leave him without an excuse for his own uncourtliness. But this is a great error; he had very little intercourse with the great; he was seldom found in the saloons of fashion, and he met with most of his eminent friends at clubs, which were not favorable to the graces, however auspicious they may have been to the mind. Before he went to London, he had few opportunities of improvement; he was then at the mature age of twenty-eight; and for some time after so obscure was he, that, as he himself declared to Cumberland, his resources for 1832.] Grokers Boswell. 97 subsistence averaged but fourpence-halfpenny a day. The same authority, who knew him well, declares that he never saw him in those moments of moroseness and ill humor which are ascribed to him, and that he lent himself to every invitation with cordiality, and brought good humor with him that gave life to the circle he was in. We know that he was at times overbearing and offensive; but these testimonials in his favor should have weight as well as those against him. Cumberland tells us that he respected Johnson highly, and loved him sin- cerely, and that he was not warranted by any experience of his humors, to speak of him otherwise than as a friend who always met him with kindness, and froru whom he never separated without regret. From such failings, which he undoubtedly possessed, we gladly turn to his solid and substantial virtues, and among these, his active charity is the most distinguished. His resources were never large, and at times were exceedingly small; but at all times of his life it was his luxury to relieve the distressed. In the days of his poverty, as he returned to his dreary apart- ment long after midnight, he would put pennies into the hands of children whom he found sleeping on thresholds and stalls, to buy them a breakfast in the morning. Mrs. Thrale says of him, that he was the most charitable of mortals, without being an active friend. But though this seems intended as a slight reproach, it only means that the kind of assistance he was able to afford, did not often require active exertion. She herself tells us, that he was extremely liberal in granting literary assistance to others, and that he furnished innumerable prefaces, lectures, sermons, and dedications to those who asked for them. Now we know that it is easier to give money than labor, and that writing xvas always a painful exertion to Johnson, so that her own admission is a sufficient refutation of her charge. LLawkins, who does not lean to the side of partiality, assures us, that he did not content himself with advising others to be charitable; he gave away all he had, and all he had ever earned, except the two thousand pounds left in his will. He never spent more than seventy, or at the utmost eighty pounds on himself, but gave the rest away to his dependants at home and abroad, who he said did not like to see him latterly unless he brought them money; and for the poor whom he was himself unable to relieve, he used to ask contributions from his richer friends. Several of these dependants resided in his house, voL. xxxlv.No. 74. 13 ~ 98 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. where he generously gave them a home; and how unwearied his kindness was, appears from Ehe remarkable forbearance which he exercised towards them. Their contentions mortified and distressed him. They were constantly complaining of their food, without reflecting that they had no claim to it what- ever; and he was so sure to be met by their murmurings, that he actually dreaded to return to his home. To his inti- mate friends he sometimes confessed, that his life was wretched from the impossibility of making theirs happy, for such was their hatred to each other, that any favor to one was wormwood to the rest. But if any one condemned them, he would in- stantly excuse their conduct, and tell him that he knew not how to make allowances for evils which he never knew. This forbearance extended to his servants; he used to go into the streets to buy oysters for a favorite cat, lest his servant should feel unpleasantly at being ordered on such a duty. Even animals were included in his comprehensive benevolence; he was so anxious that a favorite horse of Mr. Thrales should not be sold to hard work in his age, that he desired to be at the whole expense of supporting the animal. Now if he was occasionally guilty of acts of rudeness in moments of pain and irritation, the same is the case with other men; but where is there one in ten thousand, who has so large an amount of charity to set in the balance against them? His benevolence was founded in principle, and therefore was consistent and much enduring. Levett has been known to insult him, and Mrs. Williams sometimes drove him from her presence by her ungovernable passion; but his kindness to both remained unaltered to the last. In speaking of his virtues, we may add, that we were struck with a remark of Miss Reynolds concerning the direct and immediate advantage to his mind, which resulted from them. This lady was the sister of Sir Joshua, herself a painter, and like her brother, familiar with Johnson. She observes, that the rigid attention to veracity for which he was distinguished, his conscientious determination to be exact in every statement, was the cause that his memory was so wonderfully tenacious and true. In practical education, a remark like this would be found very important. We may say the same of his devotions. An air of extravagance has been given to his piety, by betraying to the public those variations of feeling which most men keep locked up in their own breast; but so far from his making 1832.] Crokers Boswell. 99 these disclosures himself, we believe that, as he said in another similar case, he would have gone mad if he had anticipated such a publication. His devotion was evidently warm and high, and if not enlarged and enlightened in proportion, the defect was owing to those early impressions and constitutional tendencies, which oppress the strongest mind. He was very apprehensive, and not without reason, that those native ten- dencies bordered on insanity; and it was to resist them, that he kept a stbrn religious guard upon his [find, and resorted so constantly to prayer, to quiet his disordered emotions. We do not think that he took such a view of this life, as religion naturally inspires. It would seem hardly grateful to represent the world as a prison,a place of sorrow and tears; but, as we have already said, one who was for a long time ground to the dust by poverty, oppressed by a perpetual nightmare of low spirits, and blind to the glorious beauty of the earth and sky, may be forgiven if he judged rather by what he felt than what he saw, and failed to perceive that all around him was bright with happiness and eloquent with praise. The view of life given in Rasselas is exceedingly depressing and untrue; and it is rather surprising, after making every allowance for infirmity, that one who in a fine burst of inspiration, described the power of the soul to make the happiness it does not find, should not have perceived, that we are answerable for that which is within our reach, as if it were within our possession ; and that where the soul is able to supply its own wants, and satisfy its own desires, there must be something suicidal or unfortunate beyond the common lot in those who can find no means to be happy. The view which Johnson took of death was as un- favorable to his peace as his idea of human life, and was probably owing to causes equally beyond his control. He constantly looked forward to his dissolution with shuddering and awful dread. Familiar as he was with the faith which enables man to defy the grave, he could think of nothing but its gloom and chilness, and did not see the bright light that is in the clouds beyond it. So far from ascribing this feeling to any remorse for unknown crimes, or ~mny distrust of his religious faith, it seems to us to have been a misfortune, owing to accidental causes, and of a kind which not unfrequently befalls the good. We have known men of exalted piety and holy lives, whose faith was unshaken as the rock of ages, who suffered under the same depression, from the thought that 100 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. they must die; but the sun which had been obscured all the day, shone out clear at last. And thus it was with Johnson; his alarm subsided as he drew near the grave. He sustained the character of a Christian moralist in the closing scene ; and those who witnessed his departure assure us, that they never shall forget the heavenly manner in which he taught them how to die. With respect to the mind of Johnson, it was undoubtedly one of the very first order. There is no better evidence of this than the work before us, which shows us how his talent displayed itself in unstudied exertions. His conversation, which is perhaps the best test of real ability, is unrivalled for its point, brilliancy, and power; and if in some respects he appears to take narrow views of important subjects, it was evidently a voluntary bondage, and from his own choice if he moved in chains. In fact, we cannot tell whether we have his real opinions; he considered conversation an exhibition of skill; and he delighted to put his shoulder under a fallen theory or forsaken cause, to show what his ingenuity and power could do. Many suggestions, which were hastily thrown out by him in this way and forgotten, have been regarded as his deliberate convictions; the superstition, for example, which is supposed to have been his weakness; and various other flail- ties of mind, which have now become, by a not unmerited retribution, inseparably attached to his memory, in consequence of the intellectual duels in which he was constantly engaged. Many have professed to wonder, that he should have been per- initted to exercise such a despotism in society; but his society consisted not of the fashionable nor the great, but of intellectual men, who admired his talent, and were content to keep silence or humor his caprice, for the sake of enjoying his inspirations. With his ready wit, shrewdness, and overpowering ability, he could not fail to predominate in any circle where he might be thrown. It is true, there were great men about him; but Fox was easy and unambitious, except in the House of Commons. In these conversations, he seems to have been too indolent or careless to take any leading part. Burke was distinguished every where; in vigor of mind he was equal to Johnson, and in comprehension, probably superior; but the careless prodi- gality with which he threw out his resources, sometimes made his hearers insensible of their value. In conversation he was less impressive than Johnson, from this very overflow of thought; 1832.] (Jrokers Bosuell. 101 as the ioar of the cataract is less startling than the sudden thunder of the gun. To us it seems plain, that were Johnson now living, such a master of the social power would hold the same ascendency over an intellectual society, as was conceded to him in his own day. It has been commonly said of him, that he was not remark-. able for learning; but we apprehend that this only means, that his works were rather of the literary than of the learned kind. He drew his illustrations less from classical sources, than from the inexhaustible fountains oP his own invention; but it would he difficult to point out the place where he showed any defi- ciency in those various and important attainments, which a profound scholar might be expected to possess. Doubtless there were those, who xvent beyond him in every single depart- ment of learning; but we strongly doubt whether England has ever produced a scholar, whose treasures of the kind were more useful to his purpose, or one who had a greater power of recalling his acquisitions just where they happened to be wanted, or of suiting them to the demands of the occasion. That he was deficient, is matter of inference altogether; and how cautious one should he in drawing such conclusions, was well suggested by Jacob Bryant in a conversation with Gifford, to whom he gave a lesson of modesty, which, it is a pity to reflect, was entirely thrown away. Gifford became acquainted with Bryant at Lord Grosvenors. The conversation one day turned on a Greek criticism by Dr. Johnson, in some volume on the table, which Gifford thought incorre~t, and pointed out as such to the veteran Grecian. Bryant hesitated to acquiesce, and in order to overcome his scruples, Gifford remarked, that Johnson himself admitted that he was not a good Greek scholar. Sir, said Bryant, with a very ekpressive manner, it is not for us to say, what such a man as Johnson would call a good Greek scholar. We are glad that Gifford had the grace to record this story; and we hope that our readers will remember it when any thing is said in dispraise of men with whom young pretenders dismsted b are b ecause the world has so long delighted to honor them. Much has heen said also, in derision of the style of Johnson. Many writers speak of style, as if it were formed and changed at pleasure; but it seems to us as absurd to give rules for the formation of style, after the mysteries of grammar are understood, as to determine what expression the countenance shall wear. The first object 102 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. is to think clearly, and then to express the thought in the most direct and natural manner. This was the course taken by Johnson; the movements of his mind were heavy and power- ful, like those of some mighty enginery, and his style assumed the same form, not by any effort or ambition, but simply by following the dictate of his nature. in his later years, when the labor of thought grew easier, and he felt more secure of fame, his style underwent a corresponding change; but from first to last, it was solemn, imposing, and majestic, and was in every respect an exact expression of the habits and character of his mind. We wish this truth were more generally under- stood, that the style indicates the habits of thought, though it does not always indicate the measure of strength which belongs to the mind; for we have observed in some able writers an attempt to write in an obscure and shadowy style, thinking, perhaps, that as objects are lifted and magnified by a mist, their conceptions, dimly expressed, will swell into gigantic pro- portions. The author of the Pelham novels is an example of this affectation, and the writer of an article on Burns in a late Edinburgh Review, a man of much higher order, brought his talent into suspicion by a similar style. Johnsons was what a style should be,a natural expression of his mind; and those who attempted to ridicule it by travesty, overlooked the fact, that little men might appear very absurdly dressed in Johnsons clothes; and the garments might, nevertheless, sit very well on him. There has been an impression, that Johnsons writings have had their day; and the Rambler is cited as a work which has been much admired, and is now but little read. This may be true; but the change of taste proves nothing against its excel- lence. New works, suited to the varying feelings of the times, have come forward, and though the Rambler is still admired, others stand more directly before the public eye. We should be sorry to estimate the merit of the Paradise Lost by the number of its readers. It is partly owing to Johnson himself, that his morality is neglected; for his original and striking maxims impressed the public mind so forcibly shortly after they appeared, that they became incorporated with the corn- mon sense of mankind, and thus by lifting man to the height where he himself stood, he rendered his own observations un- necessary. They became as a lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease; and thus the decay into which his 1832.] Grokers Boswell. 103 morality has fallen, proves at once its power, and the good which it has done. It must be remarked, too, that moral writings, not being particularly sprightly, have but little attrac- tion for men at large, when they are no longer new. Nicol Jarvie was not singular, when he spent the Sabbath evening in reading good books and gaping. The reason is, that in order to gain popular favor, all works in which abstract truth is taught, must he made palatable by some kind of attraction; and Johnsons style, which in his own age was a recommenda- tion, has lost its interest by the lapse of time. If Johnson~ s circumstances had been favorable to the culti- vation of his poetical talent, he would have been very much dis- tinguished for the brilliancy of his imagination. Poetry, in the richest forms of image and sentiment, flashes out in almost all his writings. His poetical writings, as we now have them, abound in faults, but they are all such as practice would have cured. In his imitations of Juvenal, his thought is condensed and energetic, in order to resemble the original; hut as often as he forgets his copy and breathes out his own mind and spirit, the tones of the organ are not so deep and full as his poetry in its grand and melancholy flow. It does not appear that he could ever have excelled in tragedy, even if he had not been shackled by a system, which agreed neither with public taste nor with English nature; he was far too stately and unbending, to follow the play and change of the passions. Lyrical poetry would have suited him no better; hut in the moral and didactic department, to which his genius was emi- nently adapted, we believe that the prophetic suggestion which Pope made of his future greatness, would have been more than realized, and that he would have been the most impressive and inspiring poetical moralist the world ever saw. We have no reason, however, to complain, since in the latter part of his life he accidentally took the emplQyment of a critic on poetry, a field in which his splendid powers appeared to the best advantage. The Lives of the Poets has been by far the most popular of his works, and is doubtless the one for which he will be most reverenced in future times. It afforded room for the display of every kind of talent; of his critical sagacity, his burning imagination, his learned research, and that memory by which he retained many curious anecdotes and traits of character, which would otherwise have been lost. No doubt a prejudiced air is given to the work by his 104 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. political prepossessions, and he has done injustice to some dis- tinguished names; but he wrote what he thought, and treated his subjects as he believed they deserved. It is now clear that he was wrong in some respects; but he did not err in malice, and how was it reasonable to expect, that he should follow the prejudices of others in preference to his own? The portion of ibis work which he esteemed the best, was the essay on the metaphysical poets, an affected race, to whom Byrons word metaquizzical would much better apply. It was, however, wasting too much ingenuity on their Euphuistical conceits; and the happiest parts of the hook, in our opinion, are those in which he was best pleased with his subject, and gave it his manly praise. The world is deeply indebted to him for this great work; and if there are instances in which injustice has been done by it, it has come to pass as he expected, that there have been enough to correct his errors, and to redeem from reproach every deserving fame. It is but a part of his works to which we have alluded. His dictionary, a vast undertaking, from which his feelings and habits revolted, which was wrought out without aid or patron- age, and in seasons of poverty and sorrow, has supplied a broad and deep foundation, on which all future improvements in the language can be built. His Preface to Shakspeare, in which he fearlessly assaulted a feeling second in strength only to religious reverence,his dedications, many of which are eminently beautiful and happy, show how every subject was illuminated, when he held it in the concentrated light of his mind. All who are able to estimate talent, will be found among the admirers of Johnson. They will acknowledge, that there were those among the sons of light, who towered in a higher sphere, and took wider and more inspiring views of the ways of God and the duty and destiny of man; but they will not suffer him to be degraded heneath the place, which the sentence of the world has assigned him. They will forgive his imperfections and reverence his virtues; they will defend his character when it is attacked by thoughtless folly, though, to adopt his own sentiment, a reputation established like his, has little to fear from censure, and nothing to hope from praise. Boswells Life of Johnson has been a constant favorite with all intelligent readers, and though slight improvements have been made in the new editions at various times, it was quite necessary to revise it again, hecau se many facts and explana~ 1832.] Crokers Boswell. 105 tions which were not set down because they were universally known, and were intrusted to the keeping of tradition, were in a fair way to be entirely lost. A few years will have swept away all the associates of Johnson; but as the trouble of col- lecting these things is not at all estimated by readers at large, no one was willing to submit to the labor till Mr. Croker came forward, and undertook the trbst. We can cheerfully bear witness to the able and faithful manner in which he has dis- charged the duty. But there are some things with which we are not pleased; we refer to certain sarcastic notes, in which he directs attention to the infirmities of Johnson and the follies of Boswell, as if he feared that the reader might fail to observe them. He assures us, and we have no doubt sincerely, that he feels an undivided admiration for Johnsons writings; and that, although in his conduct and conversation there may be occasionally something to regret and (though rarely) to disap- prove, there is less than there would be in any other man, whose thoughts, words and actions, should be exposed so nakedly to the public view. This being the case, he would have done better to omit the notes to which we have alluded; his readers do not need them; we take upon ourselves to say, that no one is in danger of mistaking Johnson for a Chester- field, or of feeling too much veneration for the personal char- acter of Boswell. It is not every reader who has the decided respect for Johnson which he professes to feel; and su gges- tions of the kind would inspire in some, contempt for a man who, with all his faults, which were many, must certainly be numbered with the great and good. But it is proper to give some examples, that we may not be understood as saying more than we mean. Boswell tells us that he never saw Johnson so complaisant and gentle, as on the day when he dined with the Duke of Argyle. On this the editor remarks, that he probably had never seen him in such high company before. Suppose it were so, what then? A sneer of this kind, and if it be not a sneer, we know not what it is, is wholly uncalled for. It was natural that Johnson or any other man should take pleasure in such attention, when he knew that he had fairly earned it by his talents and exertions. Again; when Boswell mentions, that one day at Mr. Strahans, he followed Johnson into the court-yard and heard him con- verse with a poor apprentice, the editor is grievously indig- nant at this surveillance, blessing his stars that there is no voL. XxxIv.NO. 74. 14 106 Grokers Boswell. [Jan. name for such a practice in the English tongue. But he has not made out a case of eaves-dropping; it does not appear that Johnson was not perfectly aware of Boswells presence, who, probably, went with him as usual, not feeling that any peculiar delicacy was called for on so simple an occasion. Again; when Johnson makes a very severe remark on some gentleman of his acquaintance, Mr. Croker terms the saying extravagantly abusive, and observes, that the gentleman was, probably, unjustly treated by his friends. Mr. Croker does not appear to have the least idea who was intended, and we ciinnot divine how he should know that the remark was abusive or unjust. Again; when Johnson said that he could not, as a juryman, have found Mungo Campbell legally guilty of the murder of the Earl of Eglintoune, but was glad they had found means to convict him, the editor says, that the remark does him no honor; but he should have remembered, that Johnson believed Campbell to be a murderer and a dangerous member of society, and, having no doubt of his guilt, why should he not be unwilling to have him escape through an in- formality in the law? So when Johnson remarks, that the mind must be diseased when the memory fails at seventy, Mr. Croker calls it one of the violent and absurd assertions into which Johnson was led by his private prejudices and feelings. These ~re hard names to apply to a casual remark, even sup- posing that it were mistaken, which in this case does not appear; for the failure of memory is clearly a dis?ase of mind. We have given these examples in detail, in order to set readers on their guard; but it would be unjust not to say, that there are opposite instances, in which Mr. Croker has given a favorable construction to Johnsons words and conduct, and, even where the offence was manifest, vindicated him from the charge of ill intentions. It may have been, that inter- ested as he was in his employment, the conversation had an air of life, and that he felt vexed with Johnson, for giving by his petulance an unfavorable impression of his character and heart. Probably, the feeling of the editor varied like that of readers of the work, changing from delight to sorrow, and from veneration to displeasure, when he saw some fine moral dis- cussion succeeded by an explosion of anger, or a glorious ex- pression of devotion to God followed by something, which bore little resemblance to good will to man. Having made this trifling abatement, we acknowledge the 1832.] Crokers Roswell. 107 excellence of this ~vork, and recommend it to our readers, to all who wish for an intimate acquaintance with Johnson, and every one who has the least respect for intellectual greatness is included in this description. Nothing is more interesting than literary history, and we could not gather from a whole library so clear and life-like a view of the English literary society of the last age, as is afforded by the incidental notices of Boswell; for there were few of its distinguished men who were not thrown in contact with Johnson, and there never was a man who, in descrihing character, had equal power to give to an anecdote the force of a description. The work of Bos- well is much improved, by inserting extracts from the other biographers; not that they were needed to counteract the idea which he gives; for to be partial is one thing, and to give a partial impression is another. We know not why Boswells portrait should be thought too flattering, for no man could more unsparingly bring to light the faults of another, than he did with respect to Johnsons; and we consider it in his favor, that these defects, sometimes so excessively annoying, did not make him insensible to the many virtues of his friend. The other biographers in general were not partial to Johnson, and should, therefore, be read with more distrust. Madame Piozzi, after his disapprobation of her second marriage, looked upon him with altered feelings. Sir John Hawkins, as will afterwards appear, beside that his disposition was unpleasant, had reasons of his own for disaffection. Both are more par- ticular in giving instances of his rudeness than was necessary their readers should remember, that the whole man did not appear on these occasions; and that to suffer these things to eclipse his virtues is as absurd, as refusing to enjoy the pros- pect from a mountain, by way of revenge upon its crags and thorns. Boswell is in every respect even ludicrously candid; insomuch that he would be unpardonable, were it not, that while he parades his friends infirmities, he volunteers a still more vain-glorious exhibition of his own. These biographers fought over Johnson, like the Greeks and Trojans over Patro- clus, and, as doubtless happened in that memorable fight, sundry blows fell upon the subject of contention, which were meant for each other. They forgot, that as the attraction of their works depended upon the interest felt in the subject, whatever lessened his character affected in an equal degree the value of their productions. 108 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. Mr. Croker has evidently labored with unwearied industry to gather materials for his work. He calls attention to the fact, which has not been noticed before, that of above twenty years during which Boswells acquaintance with Johnson lasted, they were together only three quarters of a year, in- cluding the tour to the Hebrides. It was thought, that what Boswell magnificently calls the archives of Auchinleck might contain some additional information, and the editor made ap- plications for it, which do not appear to have been very cour- teously treated. It is intimated, that the family of the biographer are not proud of the part their progenitor sustained, and yet, but for his work, we wonder what mortal beyond the limits of their own county would ever have heard of the ancient name of Boswell. Lord Stowell furnished the editor with notes, which were unfortunately lost in the mail, when, for some reason not given, they were transmitted to Sir Walter Scott. The whole mass collected in various ways is very gratifying to that insatiable curiosity, which follows every thing connected with Johnson and his tin~es. For example, it is pleasant to know that Fox was in the chair of the club, when Johnson happened to thunder out the sentence, Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel. It also appears that the name- less gentleman, who was often sorely buffeted by Johnson for his intrusiveness, was no other than Boswell himself, who with unusual forbearance refrained from giving his own name. Mr. Burkes great name is often inserted by the editor, and gives an interest to many remarks, which have passed unappropri- ated until now. On the whole, we cannot believe that any subsequent improvement will ever be made upon this edition, and we have no doubt, that it will excite the curiosity and reward the attention of the reading world. We are glad to see that Mr. Croker has drawn freely from Madame Piozzis account of Johnson. Boswells work has superseded others, so that hers is now little read; still it con- tains many interesting particulars respecting his life and con- versation, and gives, on the whole, as just an idea of him as any work on the subject, though not always written in the spirit of a friend. Boswell has labored to give the impression, that she was habitually indifferent to truth; but the instances recorded by him to substantiate the charge, are of the least possible importance. On one occasion, when she repeated a story, which he himself had told her, she described it as 1832.] Crokers Boswell. 10 the story, which he had from the old woman; upon this Bos- well magisterially declared to the company that he had caught her in the fact, for it was an old man, and not an old woman, from whom the story was derived. We believe that if such errors as this are the most momentous of which he can prove her guilty, most readers will credit her statements with very little reserve. The truth was, that these biographers were jealous of each other, and Boswell felt the greatest thirst of vengeance, because his work was the last to appear. It seems that Johnson resided in Mrs. Thrales family by her husbands desire and invitation. Mr. Thrale was master in his own house, and liked good conversation as well as good living, to which he afterwards fell a martyr. He had a great ascendency over Johnson, and when the sage grew severe, he could always check him by some such phrase as the lecture has been long enough for once, or we will hear the re- mainder after dinner, Dr. Johnson. He could even prevail on the Doctor to change his dress, a ceremony in which the philosopher never delighted; and as the foretop of all his wigs was burned off by his use of the candle in reading, Mr. Thrale stationed a servant daily in the way to the dining-room, whose duty it was to seize the Doctors tresses and replace them with better. But while Dr. Johnson regarded Thrale with respect and deference, he held the lady in but little veneration; and even Boswells work affords more cases than one of her enduring patiently, what many would never have forgiven. She did not pretend that his residence in the family was agreeable to her, but she made it as comfortable as she could to him; and when we reflect how unpleasant some of his habits were, we are disposed to praise her acquiescence in her husbands will. She says, that when he poured oyster-sauce over plum-pud- ding, and melted butter from the toast into his chocolate, one might surely say he was nothing less than delicate; we think so too. At night he could not bear the thought of retiring to bed, which he would never call rest. I lie down, said he, that my acquaintance may sleep; but I lie down to endure oppressive misery, and rise to pass the night in anxiety and pain. Mrs. Thrale used often to sit up making tea for him, till four in the morning. His hours were always ex- travagantly late; of which Mr. George Steevens gives a ludi- crous example. On returning to his house one morning between four and five, he said to Mrs. Williams; Take 110 Cro/cers Boswell. [Jan. notice, Madam, that for once, I am here before others are asleep; as I turned into the court, I ran against a knot of brick- layers. You forget, Sir, said she, that these people have been asleep, and are now preparing for their days work. Is it then so, Madam? I confess that circumstance had escaped me. Madame Piozzi gives many amusing anecdotes of Johnson; among the rest, an instance of his familiarity with the lower classes. At Mr. Thrales election, Johnson, who was never foppish, went into the street with a beaver very much the worse for wear; and a rough fellow in the crowd, seizing the hat with one hand, and clapping him on the back with the other, said, Ah, Master Johnson, this is no time to be think- ing about hats. No, said the Doctor, hats are of no use except to throw into the air and huzza with, at the same time suiting the action to the word, and breaking out into a stun- ning halloo. She relates one of the happiest speeches he ever uttered. Speaking of Dr. Solander, she observed, that he was a man of great parts, who talked from a full mind. It may be so, said the Doctor, but you cannot know it yet, nor I either; the pump works well, to be sure; but how, I wonder, are we to tell on so short an acquaintance, whether it is supplied by a spring or a reservoir? Boswell would have it appear, that her alienation from Johnson appeared as soon as she became a widow; but he contradicts himself; for he speaks of finding Johnson domesticated at her house in Argyle- street, six months after; this could not have been the case, if the enmity had already begun. She could not expect him to approve her second marriage, and accordingly he expressed his regret; but he was not the author of the letter which bears his name, in which the ignominious match is spoken of in so severe terms. On the whole, though the tone of her work is not friendly, we see no reason to charge her with injustice to his person while living, or his memory when dead. Sir John Hawkins is the name which, next to Mrs. Thrales, is most nearly associated with Johnsons. This, however, seems to be accidental. On account of his being much with Johnson in his last sickness, he was made one of his executors, and was therefore employed by the booksellers to write his life. But he really had very little personal intercourse with Johnson, and adds little to the information furnished by others, except with respect to the closing scene. His narrative of Johnsons 1832.] Crokers Boswell. 111 illness and death, is a very important addition to this work. Boswell speaks of him as if he were not overmuch to he trusted, and there are some circumstances which tend to prove the same thing. In one instance, he describes a society formed by Johnsons influence, as a sixpenny alehouse club. His daughter, Miss Hawkins, remarks on this with sufficient can- dor, I am sorry my father permitted himself to be so pettish on this subject; honestly speaking, I dare say he did not like being passed over. Sir John persecuted Johnson in his last illness to make a will, which the Doctor dreaded as if it were his death-warrant; it was not till after repeated attempts that he succeeded; the reason of this amiable earnestness was, accord- ing to his own account, to secure Johnsons property to his relations; but as the Jaw would have taken care of this, and the only effect of [naking the will, was to give most of the property to the servant Barber, it seems strange that the knight should have followed him from house to house, to make it sure. In another instance, also, he acted with unaccountable caution. Johnson had two manuscript volumes, containing probably those Prayers and Meditations, which are now before the world. In a visit, one day, Sir John took the precaution to put one of these in his pocket; but as soon as Johnson dis- covered the loss, he knew where his book was gone, and com- pelled Sir John to restore it, which he did with little dignity or grace. He tells us, that he did it to save the book from another person, Mr. George Steevens, who, he was persuaded, had felonious designs upon it; but why he suspected Mr. Steevens, why it was better that he should abstract it than Mr. Steevens, and why he did not extend his affectionate con- cern to the other volume, are points touching which he has not enlightened the world. it may be observed, that after this, Johnson threw aside the will, which Hawkins, an attorney by profession, had written, and dictated another to a young cler- gyman. Thi may account for the feeling toward the memory of Johnson, which Hawkinss writings discover. At first sight, it appears strange, that Boswell had not availed himself of Hawkinss account of Johnsons death, since it ap- peared so long before his own; but the reason was, that a war- fare of copy-rights was waged between the biographers; and so tenacious were they, that Boswell entered at Stationers Hall the letter to lord Chesterfield and the conversation with George III., as two distinct publications, though they are both con- 112 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. tamed in the Life, where they occupy hut two or three pages. What Sir John Hawkins tells us, is confirmed by another val- uable paper,the journal of Mr. Windham, which is now in the hands of a person employed to write that gentlemans life, who churlishly withheld it from Mr. Croker, though a permis- sion to use it was readily granted by the owner, Admiral Wind- ham, the nephew and heir of the statesman. Mr. Croker was fortunate enough to procure an extract from it in another way, and it forms one of the most interesting passages in his volumes. It appear~ from these two authorities, that Johnson, though much depressed in the early stages of his disease, grew cairn, and remained so to the last, with but one exception; this was on the night before his death. He fancied that his physicians were forbearing through an unwillingness to give him pain, and while Mr. Desmoulins and Francis Barber were watching with him, he called for a lancet; Mr. Desmoulins ex- pressed great reluctance to furnish it, and Johnson, said, Dont, if you have any scruples; but I will compel Frank. When it was given him, he made three incisions, hoping to relieve his dropsical complaints, one of which was a deep wound, from which he lost some ounces of blood. This was owing to sus- picion, to irritability exasperated by disease, and his tenacious love of a life which was fast closing; this was the only instance in which he lost the dignified composure becoming the sage and christian. Mr. Hoole mentions, that on calling to see him the morning after he had requested him somewhat sternly to read the service louder, Johnson said, Sir, I was peevish yesterday; you must forgive me; when you are as old and as sick as I am, you may be peevish too. He employed his closing hours, in endeavoring to impress the minds of those about him with religious feelings and instructions. Mr. Wind- ham asked his opinion on the subject of revealed religion, to which he replied, In revealed religion there is such evidence, as on any subject not religious, would have left no doubt. Had the facts recorded in the New Testament been mere civil oc- currences, no one would have called in question the testimony by which they are established; but the importance annexed to them, amounting to nothing less than the salvation of mankind, raised a cloud in our minds, and created doubts unknown on any other subject. He observed, that we had not so much evidence that Caesar died in the capitol, as that Jesus Christ died in the manner related. He quoted with approbation 1832.] Grokers Boswell. 113 Bishop Taylors words, Little, which has been omitted in health, can be done to any purpose in sickness. He often re- peated also with admiration, the close of Isaac Waltons Life of Bishop Sanderson. Thus this pattern of meekness and primitive innocence changed this for a better life ;tis now too late to wish that mine might be like his; for I am in the eighty-fifth year of my age, and God knows it bath not; but I most humbly beseech Almighty God, that my death may. And I do earnestly beg, that if any reader shall receive any satisfaction from this very plain and as true relation, he will be so charitable as to say, amen. There were some who re- ceived impressions at the death-bed of Johnson, which no time can wear away; he persevered till death had almost quenched the eye of kindness, and closed the lips of devotion, and at last, saying Jam moriturus, he expired without a struggle, or any sign of uneasiness or pain. Of the new materials which have fallen into the editors bands, the most valuable is the manuscript of Miss Reynolds containing recollections of Johnson, and his notes addressed to herself. She was the well-known Renny dear; and Mr. Croker remarks, that this paper, written by one who knew him most familiarly, confirms all that has been said of the kindness and charity of his private life. This lady died at the age of eighty, in November, 1807. We can place entire confidence in her statements,the more, because they were never dressed for the public eye; and though there is not much personal anecdote in her recollections, she rivals Boswell in giving an exact impression of the appearance and manners of Johnson. Boswell mourns that Johnson should once have been mistaken for a beggar; but Miss Reynolds thinks, that it would have been difficult to take him for anything else, till his dress was improved by his pension. No external circumstances of the kind ever induced him to apologize, or in the least disturbed his composure. He used to boast, that no living man better understood, or more scrupulously practised the duties of polite- ness, than himself. Miss Reynolds says, that he would never suffer a lady to walk unattended through the court from his house to her carriage, and so grotesque was his equipment, that a crowd always collected, who expressed in the most audible manner their astonishment and delight. Though he cared nothing for his appearance, be was not always pleased with the result to which it led. As he was once visiting Miss VOL. xxxIv.No. 74. 15 114 (Jrokers Boswell. [Jan. Cotterel, he was pulled back by the servant in a very uncere- monious way; and it was probably in resentment of this, that he said to Sir Joshua Reynolds, before some of her fashionable visiters, How much do you think we could earn in a week, if we was to work as hard as we can? Miss Reynolds supplies Boswells deficiency, by minutely describing his extraordinary gestures. On entering Sir Joshuas house, with blind Mrs. Williams, he would some- times quit her hand, or whirl her about in his own evolutions, and after sundry feats of the kind, would give a spring, and stride over the threshold as far as possible, entirely forgetting his helpless companion. He would often go through the same ceremony in the street, wholly disregarding the shouts of the mob, and when it was concluded, would walk on with an air of calm satisfaction. He would make a motion with his arms, like a jockey holding back a horse at full speed; at the same time he would strike his heels or his toes together, in a way that beggars all description. Miss Reynolds also supplies another of Boswells deficien- cies, by giving us an account of Johnsons reading. He read with wonderful rapidity, glancing his eye in an instant over the page; if he paused, it was because he was particularly pleased; and after see-sawing a few moments, he repeated the passage aloud, especially if it were poetry. He read poetry with a strong and emphatical manner, which gave force to every word; and in repeating passages which contained any high or solemn sentiment, his expression was wonderfully fine. But in reading prose, his manner was very bad; he began pomp- ously, and then let his voice sink away into a whine, hurrying on as if he were under oath to finish each sentence in a single breath. Johnson was desirous to excel in every accomplishment; he could not bear to be outdone in activity, and happening once to see Mrs. Thrale jump over a cabriolet stool, he fol- lowed, with a crash which seemed like a convulsion of nature. As he was walking in a park with some gentlemen and ladies, one remarked, that when he was young he could climb the highest of the trees; hearing this, the Doctor (then about sixty) ran to one of the trees, and ascended it with miraculous alertness. Once at a gentlemans seat in Devonshire, hearing a young lady boast that she could outrun any person, he said to her solemnly, Madam, you cannot outrun me. They imme 1832.] Crokers Boswell. 115 diately started, and at first the young lady had the advantage, but the Doctor kicked his slippers high into the air, and setting off with new velocity, soon left the Atalanta far hehind. Bos- well perhaps thought recollections of this kind too trifling for his dignified subject; but without seeing the man unbent, we cannot judge his character with precision. Miss Reynolds aids us very much, in forming a just impression of his character. She assures us that his blindness was such, that he could not see the expression in the faces of those about Inn]; thus he was deprived of the benefit of those intelligent signs and ready perceptions, on which the proprieties of be- havior so much depend. His deafness, too, not only made him insensible to the expressive tones of others, but unconscious of the stormy sound of his own. In her opinion, it was his harsh voice which often converted into a rude attack what was meant for pleasantry, and produced an excitement which he was wholly unable to account for. She remarks, that he was once in company with Mr. Garrick, and some others who were strangers to him. In the course of conversation, he happened to bear hard on the works of a gentleman who was present, and Garrick, to prevent it, touched his foot under the table. Still the Doctor went on, and took no hint; but when Garrick touched him the third time, he said, David, David, is it you? what makes you tread on my toes so? In this way, he often gave mortal offence, when, so far from intending it, he could not be made to comprehend how and where it was given. This lady gives us a curious story with respect to Dr. Dodd, on the authority of Johnson. Had her informer been less rigid in his habits of truth, it would be difficult to believe it. He told her, that Dodd flattered himself with hopes of life to the last, and that he was encouraged by some medical friends with the imagination, that by tying the halter in a peculiar way under his ear, his life might be saved after he had undergone the sentence of the law. But this promising scheme was defeated by the person most interested in it. The hangman was bribed, and arranged matters for the purpose, whispering to Dodd on the scaffold, that he must not struggle in the least; hut struggle he did, and though he was carried to a convenient place after he was taken down, and every effort was made to restore him, they were attended with no success. Truly, there were but slender chances in favor of a plan, which depended upon the presence of mind of a person swinging by 116 Crokers. Boswell. [Jan. his neck in the air. Even simple suspension, as Captain Dalgetty terms it, is quite sufficient to affect the firmest mans composure. The intimacy of Johnson with Sir Joshua Reynolds, was a source of much happiness to him. The calm and dignified character of Reynolds always commanded his respect; and he in turn speaks of himself, as owing- whatever is good in his lectures to his education under Johnson. Th.e order of his family could not be much disturbed by Johnsons peculiarities, if we may judge from Mr. Courtenays description of one. of his dinners. There was always a coarse and careless plenty at his table, the very appearance of which produced good humor; but so careless were the preparations in other respects, that fifteen guests would sometimes meet at a table spread for half the number. The deficiency of plates, knives, and forks, was supplied in the most extempore way; the calls for attend- ance were very seldom answered; the guests scrambled for themselves as well as they could; lords temporal and spiritual, physicians, lawyers, actors, musicians, and painters, being all thrown together; and among them was the host, perfectly com- posed, entirely indifferent as to what any one ate or drank, but attending scrupulously to every thing which was said. Here Johnson was always welcome. Northcote informs us, that Johnsons visits were not always acceptable; and that Reynolds, one evening, coming into the room where Johnson was waiting for him, turned on his heel, rook his hat, and immediately left the house. The refutation of this idle story is contained in the fact, that Johnson is known to have entered the house again. Reynolds was not fool enough to feel himself superior to Johnson, nor would Johnson have borne such treatment from mortal man. A story, however, ~vhich Northcote received from Sir Joshua, is no doubt true, and so characteristic, that it deserves inser- tion in this work. Roubiliac, the celebrated sculptor, desired Reynolds to introduce him to Dr. Johnson, in order to procure of him an epitaph for a monument on which he was then engaged. Johnson received them very civilly, and took them into a garret, which he called his library, in which, beside his books covered with dust, were a crazy table and an old chair with but three legs. In this Johnson seated himself, contriving to support its lame side against the wall of the room. He then requested to know what they desired him to write. Roubiliac, who was a true Frenchman, immediately began a high-flown 1832.] (Jrokers Boswell. 117 harangue, directing the Doctor what sentIments to. express; but Johnson quickly interrupted him, saying, Come, sir, let us have no more of this ridiculous rhodomontade, but let me know in simple language the name, character, and. quality of the person, whose epitaph I am to write. Mr. Croker has done good service to the memory of John- son., by preserving this testimony of the Reynolds family. At their house lie was always met with a welcome,. and in their society he was neither flattered nor shown off, which always vexed him. ,At Thrales, he felt the weight of obligation, possibly was sometimes made to feel it, for who can properly sustain the character of a benefactor? This his independent spirit could not hear. At his own house he had, as we have seen, constant subjects of irritation; but at Reynoldss he was unembarrassed, and comparatively happy, and like n~ost other men in these circumstances, he grew courteous in proportion. At a dinner party there, the conversation happening to turn on the subject of music, Johnson spoke contemptuously of the art. A young lady near him, whowas very fond of music, whispered her neighbor, I wonder wha~ Dr. Johnson thinks of King David. Johnson overheard her, and turning to her, said, Madam, I thank you; I stand reproved before you, and I promise you, that on this subject at least, you shall never hear me talk nonsense again. It was a happy thought in the editor, to associate Sir Walter Scott with Johnson. His very name possesses a charm, and his familiarity with the highlands, the field of his own fame, enables him to illustrate and explain various parts of the tour in Scotland. But he occasionally forgets Johnsons remark, that he is a true Scotchman who does not love his country better than the truth; he shows his nationality by severe remarks on Bos- well, and once goes so far as to enter into a defence of sheeps head, the dish, which, it will be remembered, Owen ate at Mr. Jarvies table, and approved in a tone in which disgust alniost overpowered civility. I have passed over all the Doctors other reproaches on Scotland, says he, but ~the sheeps head I will defend totis viribus. Dr. Johnson himself must have forgiven my zeal on this occasion; for if, as he says, dinner is that which we think of oftenest during the day, breakfast must be that which we think of first in the morning. Among other things, Scott mentions a tradition, that Boswell was so deeply interested in the Douglas cause, as to head a 118 Crokers Boswell. [Jan. mob, which broke the windows of the judges, and his fathers, Lord Auchinlecks, in particular. Boswell conceals the fact, that Johnson met with Adam Smith at Glasgow; but it would seem that there was an obvious and sufficient reason, if we may credit the story which Professor Millar told Sir Walter Scott, but which we suspect was a little decorated before it reached Sir Walter. The Professor stated, that Smith came into a company where he was present after his interview with Johnson, and all were anxious to know how two such great men met arid exchanged minds. Smith was in no haste to satisfy their curiosity, but being hard pressed, declared that Johnson, as soon as lie saw him, attacked him respecting some statement in his letter on the death of Hume, and with a candor, which to Smith seemed excessive, assured him that he believed he lied. He of the Moral Sentiments was so much overcome by this communication, that he could only answer, by applying to Johnson a name which is nearly obso- lete in refined society, and is considered reproachful, even when applied to the canine race, to which it rightfully belongs. Such was the affecting manner, in which the two great moral- ists met and parted. We doubt whether Johnson expressed his doubts of Smiths statements in a dialect quite so plain; but if it were so, it is consoling to remember a remark as- cribed to Beauclerk, that when he was on his hind legs, he was one of the most polite beings that ever existed. The appendix to this work contains many anecdotes and descriptions, which the editor has collected. He was aided in his research by several distinguished men. Sir James Mackintosh furnished a biographical notice of Mr. Courtenay, the author of the Poetical Review. It may seem strange, that when there are so many living, who can remember Johnson, there should not be more remembered. But those who can remember him, knew him only when they were very young, and tradition is so uncertain, that Mr. Croker wisely declined placing much dependence on such materials, even when they were offered to his hand. The authenticity of some, how- ever, is established by internal evidence. Thus it is said that two young ladies waited upon him, and one of them repeated a flattering speech, which she had with much labor prepared for the occasion. She then waited for a reply. It was Fiddle-de-dee, my dear. Among other things, the appen- dix contains a burlesque imitation of Boswell, a dialogue be- 1832.] Grsffins Remasus. tween Dr. Pozz and Mr. Bozz, by Alexander Chalmers; and a very pleasant sketch by Sir Joshua Reynolds, detailing two conversations, in one of which he speaks lightly of Garrick, in the other praises him in the most exalted terms. It is often said that Johnson, though he would suffer no one else to abuse Garrick, did it himself freely; but the reason is obvious; he himself was a friendly critic, naming some failings in the man whose character he loved. He knew that Garrick, though avaricious, was no miser; he could do generous things. When Mr. Berenger became unfortunate, Garrick not only re- linquished his claim to five hundred pounds, which Berenger owed him, but made him an additional present of three hun- dred pounds. Johnson knew his whole character, and, there- fore, would not listen to the censure of those, who knew only the unfavorable part. It is idly said, that he was jealous of Garricks good fortune; but hear what Cumberland says: Garrick died, and I saw old Samuel Johnson standing beside his grave at the foot of Shakspeares monument, and bathed in tears. We are glad that the opportunity has been afforded us to offer a slight account of Johnson, together with the new mate- rials, which the able and industrious editor has collected. The English work is large and expensive, but we have the pleasure of announcing an American re-print, under the direc- tion of Mr. Francis Jenks, of this city. The five English volumes will be comprised in two, and the price be less than one third of that of the English edition. We hope that this kind of enterprise will never go unrewarded, and that we shall be able to repeat the saying of a distinguished writer of the last age, Every one that can buy a book has bought a Boswell. ART. VI.Gr~ffins Remains. Remains of the Rev. Edmund D. Grjffln. Compiled by FRANCIS GRiFFIN. With a Biographical Memoir of the Deceased, by the REV. JOHN MCVICAR, Professor of Moral Philosophy, 4~c. in Columbia Collegc. New York. 1831. These volumes consist of a selection from the posthumous writings of a young man of great merit and extraordinary

1832.] Grsffins Remasus. tween Dr. Pozz and Mr. Bozz, by Alexander Chalmers; and a very pleasant sketch by Sir Joshua Reynolds, detailing two conversations, in one of which he speaks lightly of Garrick, in the other praises him in the most exalted terms. It is often said that Johnson, though he would suffer no one else to abuse Garrick, did it himself freely; but the reason is obvious; he himself was a friendly critic, naming some failings in the man whose character he loved. He knew that Garrick, though avaricious, was no miser; he could do generous things. When Mr. Berenger became unfortunate, Garrick not only re- linquished his claim to five hundred pounds, which Berenger owed him, but made him an additional present of three hun- dred pounds. Johnson knew his whole character, and, there- fore, would not listen to the censure of those, who knew only the unfavorable part. It is idly said, that he was jealous of Garricks good fortune; but hear what Cumberland says: Garrick died, and I saw old Samuel Johnson standing beside his grave at the foot of Shakspeares monument, and bathed in tears. We are glad that the opportunity has been afforded us to offer a slight account of Johnson, together with the new mate- rials, which the able and industrious editor has collected. The English work is large and expensive, but we have the pleasure of announcing an American re-print, under the direc- tion of Mr. Francis Jenks, of this city. The five English volumes will be comprised in two, and the price be less than one third of that of the English edition. We hope that this kind of enterprise will never go unrewarded, and that we shall be able to repeat the saying of a distinguished writer of the last age, Every one that can buy a book has bought a Boswell. ART. VI.Gr~ffins Remains. Remains of the Rev. Edmund D. Grjffln. Compiled by FRANCIS GRiFFIN. With a Biographical Memoir of the Deceased, by the REV. JOHN MCVICAR, Professor of Moral Philosophy, 4~c. in Columbia Collegc. New York. 1831. These volumes consist of a selection from the posthumous writings of a young man of great merit and extraordinary 120 Griffins Remains. [Jan. promise. The biographical memoir by which they are intro- duced, is one of the most interesting and affecting records of talent brought into early exercise, and directed to noble ob- jects, that we remember to have met with. The history of one, distinguished in the morning of life by rare attainments in beautiful union with unspotted virtue, and fine natural powers kept in vigorous action by the motives of a generous ambition, presents an example more graceful and persuasive, than any instance of eminence attained in riper years, and of stronger and more salutary influence also, inasmuch as it ad- dress~s itself to the young and susceptible. The world has been shown too many examples of an opposite nature, and with ~too pernicious an effect. The vices of young men of acknowledged genius, have been copied by those who were ambitious of rivalling their reputation, and who adopted for that purpose such of their qualities, as were easiest of ac- quisition. We hold, indeed, that the example of Lord Byron will yet prove a great moral warning, and that it will be pointed at in future times to terrify men from the follies in which he indulged, by showing the wretchedness into which they plunged him. But during his lifetime, there is no doubt that it was highly mischievous, and, perhaps, still is so, though in a degree fast lessening, as the attention of the world is turned to new models of conduct among the living, and as the distance to which the lapse of time is removing him, enables the world to speculate calmly on the character and the fate of that ex- traordinary man. Those who wished to resemble him, copied his misanthropy and his excesses, as if these could communi- cate the ethereal flame of that genius with which they are at war, and which their only tendency is to degrade and ex- tinguish. As the great mass of mankind form their characters on those of others, and are blind followers in the track of the eminent, it is difficult to estimate the extent of our obligations to him, who shows the world something at once fitted to excite admiration and worthy to imitate. The influence of such an example is as diffusive, as the vibration of sounds in the at- mosphere. It is impossible to calculate to what extent its copies may be propagated among an imitative race, how widely it may enlarge the sphere of virtuous impulses, and in how many bosoms it may kindle or encourage the aspiration after excellence, by exhibiting a new and shining instance of its possibility. 1832.] Gr~fJins Remants. 121 Such attraction has the spectacle of extraordinary talents joined with virtue, on which the seal of an early death has been set, that it has alone been sufficient to give popularity to works, which did not possess any high de6ree of positive merit. The mind, in its estimate of what they are, takes into the account the promise they gave of better things, and the feelings of wonder and sympathy with which they are re- garded, give them an interest beyond their intrinsic value. Few works of the present century have been such general favorites with the public, as the Remains of Henry Kirke White, with the biographical memoir prefixed by Southey. With a great deal of truth in the fragments, shreds of poetry of no value, and whole poems of inconsiderable power, they yet display so much of elevated and steady purpose, mingled with so much genius, that the world has taken them to its affections. They are read by thousands, to whom the story and works of Chatterton, marvellous boy as he was, and profligate as he was marvellous, are unknown. The writings of Kirke White have become a kind of classic; the general scholar places him in his collection of English poets; the plain devout reader puts him on the same shelf with his Young and his Cowper, and one of the greatest poets of the age, him- self no stern moralist, has written his eulogy. Yet we do not think that there prevails in his Remains a healthy tone of mind. The delicacy of his constitution, the seeds of disease lurking in his frame, seem to have communicated something like a morbid state of feeling to his mind, and to have generated a disposition to despondency and a delight in complaint. The author of the volumes before us had no such tendencies. He seems never to have thought of criticising the conditions of his existence ; his only aim was to seek its noblest purposes, and to set himself with steady diligence to compass them. He appears never to have ~vavered for a moment in the path he had chosen, nor to have been disturbed by any sickly doubts of the worthiness of the objects he was pursuing. His views of life, and the part he was to take in it, were cheerful and rational, and his mind was filled with a perpetual sunshine. His writings bear testimony to this healthful and happy state of feeling. rrhey are full of the inspiration of fresh and gen- erous hopes, and of proper and modest confidence in his own powers, which harmonize so well with the early period of life, while the spirits are yet unbroken by disappointment and the voi~. xxxlv.No. 74. 16 I 2~ Griffins Remains. [Jan. repeated visitations of sorrow, ere we have learned to realize how soon the vigor of life is past, and how far the best results of human exertion fall short of human aspirations and desires. The equanimity and serene piety which marked his life, sup- ported him under the sudden attack of disease, which cut him off in the midst of the fairest prospects, and attended him within the shadows which divide the present from the future state of being. Edmund D. Griffin, the second son of George Griffin, Esq., of New York, was horn on the 10th of September, 1804, in the State of Pennsylvania, at Wyoming, that beautiful valley, which Campbell has made the scene of his finest poem, and to which many a pilgrimage has been performed, in order to behold what the poet himself had seen only in imagination. His grandfather, on the mothers side, was Colonel Zebulon Butler, a soldier of the old French xvar, a distinguished officer of the Revolution, and who, as the patriarch of the village, might have sat for the original of the venerable Albert in Campbells poem. At the age of two years, the parents of Edmund removed to New York, hut on account of some ap- pearances of delicacy of constitution, he was educated until his twelfth year at different schools in the country. In these, he gave evidence of early and uncommon talent, and rose to a superiority in scholarship over his companions, which he after- wards uniformly maintained throughout the whole course of his school life. Though for the greater part of the year at a distance from home, his domestic affections were strong and constant, and on one occasion, when about to return to the country at the close of a vacation, he pleaded so pathetically with his father that he might be permitted to remain and pursue his studies in the city, that his kind parent could not find it in his heart to deny him. The pledge of dutiful conduct and diligence which he then gave, as the condition of not being removed from the home he loved, was amply redeemed~. He was placed at the school of Mr. David Graham, who undertook with discrimination and success the task of cultivating his faculties ; and his biographer mentions nine little volumes of essays, written at that period, still extant in his school-boy hand, all endorsed by his teacher with testi- monials of approbation, and indicating powers of uncommon promise, and a mhid pervaded by a deep sense of moral and religious obligation. Several short passages are extracted by 1832.] Griffins Remains. 123 the author of the memoir, to show the generous nature of the motives which animated his exertions, and that the amhition of excellence with him seemed to spring less from a love of su- periority than from a certain honorable pride of feeling, as if indolence were a degradation of his nature. In his thirteenth year, young Griffin was permitted, as the reward of his diligence, to visit the place of his birth. He found not at Wyoming the flamingo, Disporting like a meteor on the lakes Nor the everlasting aloe, throwing high its arms; he saw no hillock by the palm-tree half oergrown, Nor any other of the accessories of tropical scenery, which Campbell, with a singular forgetfulness of latitude and climate, has introduced into his description of this secluded valley. But he beheld a region of surpassing loveliness, fairer and wilder than even the poet had conceived ; and he recorded his transports in a journal, full of that unaffected enthusiasm for natural beauty, which had been nourished by his early resi- dence in the country, and to which the volumes before us bear ample testimony. Here he visited the grave of his grand- father, the patriarch of Wyoming, who commanded in the fatal engagement of July 3d, 1778, which ended in the devas- tation of the valley by the British troops and their savage allies. He found engraved on the monument the uncouth rhymes of some rustic poet of the wilderness. Distinguished by his usefulness, At home and when abroad; In court, in camp, and in recess, Protected still by God. Of this Colonel Butler, Marshall, in his Life of Washington, says, that he was the cousin of John Butler, who headed the Indian auxiliaries. He also implies a doubt of the courage of Colonel Butler in that bloody action, in which perished the manhood of Wyoming. In a passage extracted from the journal of his visit to the valley, his youthful descendant indig- nantly vindicates the honor of his grandfather, disclaiming his relationship to such a traitor as John Butler, and givin gthe following account of this memorable combat. Marshall says, that the Indians being about to ravage the valley of Wyoming, and a flag of truce being displayed by them, 124 Urtifins Remains. [Jan. Colonel Zebulon Butler, commander of the forces in Wyoming, was by this pretence decoyed into an ambuscade, accompanied by a small detachment of soldiers, and that they were put to rout by a soldier, who called out that the Colonel had ordered a retreat, when he had done no such thing. But this is the truth The Indians were about to destroy Wyoming; the male inhabitants were determined to protect their wives, their children, and their property, and were anxious to go out and meet the enemy at the very time they heard of their coming. Col. Butler endeavored to restrain them but for a single day, in which he might find out the number of the enemy and their local advantages, but in vain. Although he saw that they were bent upon their own destruction, his honor would not suffer him to desert them. He accordingly went with them, led them against the enemy, was surprised in ambush, fought bravely at their head, and when they were about to be routed, rode among the ranks, exposed himself to the whole fire of the enemy in order to set them a good example,but all would not do. A sort of freezing horror had seized upon the men, on seeing the savage with his uplifted tomahawk break forth from the bushes, when they heard his horrid war-whoop, and beheld their friends falling fast around them from the fire of a concealed foe. Dreadful was the rout,yet more dreadful was the carnage. Out of about three hundred men but four escaped, and one of these four was Col. Butler, who exposed himself to so many dangers, and who, nevertheless, had not even been wounded. The matter is of sufficient importance in an historical point of view, to be set right. Colonel Butler, it seems, was dis- tinguished both before and after this event, by marks of con- fidence from Washington himself. Tbe venerahle historian has been made aware of the error he has committed, and in a communication to the inhabitants of the valley, says Pro- fessor MeVicar, has promised, that in a future edition justice shall be done to the memory of one, whom they all loved as their friend, and respected as their brave, though unfortunate defender. When young Griffin was fourteen years old, Mr. Grahams school was discontinued. This gentleman has borne witness to the rapid progress of his favorite pupil in a brief panegyric, in which he describes him as one in whom the love of learning admitted of no relaxation, whose ambition embraced the whole course of study, and in every thing urged him to excel, and who, better than any one he ever knew, answered the fastidious 1832.] Griffins Remains. 125 description of the Roman critic; Puer mihi ille detur, quern laus excitat, quem gloria juvat, qui victus fleat. He was next placed at a school, which had just begun to rise into reputation, kept by Mr. Nelson, the famous blind teacher, in the city of New York, afterwards Classical Profes- sor in Rutgers College, New Jersey. Of this very remark- able person, Professor NlcViear gives the following interesting account. The mention of this name recalls to the writer, who was his college class-mate, the merits of a singular man; and as death has now turned his misfortune into an instructive lesson, it may be permitted to dwell for a moment upon his eventful story. The life of Mr. Nelson was a striking exemplification of that resolu- tion which conquers fortune. Total blindness, after a long, grad- ual advance, came upon him about his twentieth year, when terminating his college course. It found him poor, and left him to all appearance both penniless and wretched, with two sisters to maintain, without money, without friends, without a profession, and without sight. Under such an accumulation of griefs, most minds would have sunk, but with him it was otherwise. At all times proud and resolute, his spirit rose at once into what might well be termed a fierceness of independence. He resolved with- in himselg to be indebted for support to no hand but his own. His classical education, which, from his feeble vision, had been necessarily imperfect, he now determined to complete, and im- mediately entered upon the apparently hopeless task, with a view to fit himself as a teacher of youth. He instructed his sisters in the pronunciation of Greek and Latin, and employed one or other constantly in the task of reading aloud to him the classics usually taught in the schools. A naturally faithful memory, spurred on by such strong excitement, performed its oft-repeated miracles; and in a space of time incredibly short, he became master of their contents, even to the minutest points of critical reading. In illustration of this, the author remembers on one occasion, that a dispute having arisen between Mr. N. and the Classical Professor of the College, as to the construction of a passage in Virgil, from which his students were reciting, the Professor appealed to the circumstance of a comma in the sen- tence, as conclusive of the question. True, said Mr. N. coloring with strong emotion; but permit me to observe added he, turning his sightless eye-balls towards the book he held in his hand, that in my Heyne edition it is a colon, and not a comma. At this period, a gentleman, who incidentally became acquainted with his history, in a feeling somewhere between pity 126 Griffins Remains. [Jan. and confidence, placed his two sons under his charge, with a view to enable him to try the experiment. A few months trial was sufficient; he then fearlessly appeared before the public, and at once challenged a comparison with the best established classical schools of the city. The novelty and boldness of the attempt attracted general attention; the lofty confidence he displayed in himself excited respect; and soon his un- tiring assiduity, his real knowledge, and a burning zeal, which, knowing no bounds in his own devotion to his scholars, awakened somewhat of a corresponding spirit in their minds, completed the conquest. His reputation spread daily, scholars flocked to him in crowds, competition sank before him, and in the course of ~ very few years, he found himself in the enjoyment of an income superior to that of any college patronage in the United States,with to him the infinitely higher gratification of having risen above the pity of the world, and fought his own blind way to honorable independence. Nor was this all; he had succeeded in placing classical education on higher ground than any of his predecessors or contemporaries had done; and he felt proud to think that he was in some measure a benefactor to that college, which, a few years before, he had entered in poverty and quitted in blindness. It was while at this school, that Mr. Griffin first became known to his biographer. He found him modest, sensitive, ardent, loved and honored by all, taking an unenvied precedence of his school-felloxvs; a youth, of whom no teacher remembers a fault committed, no instructer an exercise neglected, no companion an unkind act, an angry sentiment, or an immodest word. At the public examinations of the school in which he was a pupil, he witnessed the honors which he acquired, and the meekness with which he wore them. On one occasion, when he carried away the prize from all his competitors for an English version of the passage in Ovids Metamorphoses, describing the war of the gods, the graceful diffidence of the young poet, the feeling with which he recited his verses, and the talent shown in the verses themselves, seem to have taken his auditors by surprise. Dr. Bard, a venerated name, then President of the Medical College of New York, warmly con- gratulated the delighted father on the happiness of possessing such a son, and the late amiable and learned Dr. Harris, President of Columbia College, in his address to the victor, broke out with the exclamation, Macte virtute, puer! Never was that classic sentence more fortunately applied. 1832.] Grsffins Remasns. 127 In the autumn of the year 1819, Mr. Griffin, then just fifteen years of age, applied for admission into Columbia College. After one of those long and rigid examinations practised at that time in the institution, which continued for several suc- cessive days, and which terminated by arranging the names of the several candidates for admission in the order of merit, his own was announced to be first on the list; a rank which he ever steadily maintained during the whole of his connexion with the college. While the examination lasted, he was constantly attended by his blind instructer, who evinced the most intense interest in the decision. In a subsequent letter to a friend, he described his anxiety and apprehensions during this severe trial of his strength and faculties, and declared that he was most Linfeignedly astonished to find himself at the head of the list. Professor lVlcVicar relates the following anecdote of this exam- ination. The justice of the decision was unquestioned, though the chagrin of one of the rival candidates vented itself, at the moment, in a manner more creditable to his scholarship than his philoso- phy. He wrote with his pencil the following distich, and passed it along to the victor: Vicisti, Griffin; parva at tua gloria, nam quod .11mm quinque tibi, menses mihi quinque dederunt ; to which the former immediately replied, with the usual courtesy of Latin disputants; A~mule! cur senior, fallaces ad fugis artes? Menses tu simulas, annos tamen insere victus. The boast was not, however, altogether false; the author of the lines was a highly talented Italian youth, of riper age than Ed- mund, and who, by the aid of a learned father, had prepared himself for the examination in an incredibly short period of time. He was the son of Lorenzo Da Ponte, at present Professor of Italian in Columbia College, and partook strongly of that poetic fervor, which even now gives youth to the father in his eighLy- third year, and which half a century ago, recommended him to the Austrian monarch as a fit successor to the laurel of Metastasio.* What success might have attended the future efforts of this formidable rival, when months of diligence had been changed to * Lorenzo IDa Ponte, then in his twenty-third year, was made Poeta Cesareo by Joseph II. in the year 1780, a few months after the death of Metastasio. 128 G r{ffins Remains. [Jan. years, it is impossible to say. Death withdrew him from the course, before the race was well begun. Two other high-minded competitors, after a two years struggle, voluntarily withdrew their pretensions; and through the remainder of his college life, Edmunds claims to general pre-eminence remained undisputed. The habits of life which young Griffin had at this time formed, were such as to combine the greatest attention to health, with the most diligent and regular application to study. We quote the passage in which they are described, together with the judicious remarks they have drawn from his biographer, in the hope that it will meet the eye of some who, in the pursuit of learning, have adopted an injudicious and harmful system, and that it will teach them, by so pregnant an example, how easily the care of the constitution may be reconciled with the greatest attainments, even if it be not, as is doubtless the fact, an aid in acquiring them. Edmunds habits of study at this period might be recommended as a model to the student, on the score both of health and industry. They were early formed, and partly from love of order, still more from a sense of duty, were perseveringly maintained through the whole course of his education. His practice was to rise so early as to study between two and three hours before breakfast, which meal was at eight oclock in winter, and seven in summer. His morning studies were, therefore, during one half of the year, commenced by candle-light. From breakfast until three r. M. the hour of dinner, he was employed at his books; either at home, school, or college. After dinner, he gave up to exercise and recreation until twilight; when he resumed his studies, and continued them until bed-time. While a school-boy, this was at the primitive hour of nine oclock; and not later than ten, while a collegian: thus securing for sleep some of those early hours, which, in the opinion of physicians, are worth double the amount after midnight, for the rest and invigoration of both body and mind. After quitting college, the demands of social intercourse broke in upon this regularity, and led him to trespass in his studies far upon the night; it was a change, however, which he both lamented and condemned~ and had his life been spared would no doubt have returned to those fresh morning hours, which he always spoke of with delight, and which are so essen- tial to the health of the student. 1-lappy they who can receive this doctrine! With the young it is in their power, and let them choose wisely and in time; lest haply when old, they pay the penalty of having divorced a life of study from one of healthy 1832.] Griffins Remasns. 129 enjoyment. With Edmund, these regular habits strengthened a constitution naturally delicate, and enabled him to bear without injury a more than ordinary degree of mental exertion, and to execute an amount of intellectual labor almost incredible at his early years; having left behind him manuscripts to the amount of at least six octavo volumes. The secret of his health lay in early hours, and regular systematic exercise; and his example in this particular is the more valuable, because in our country it is more needed. In Europe, the sedentary habits of the student are attended with comparatively little danger, to what awaits them in our warmer climate, where they are found so often to render valueless all the advantages of education, and to present the painful picture of a young man unfitted for usefulness in his profession, by the very zeal with which he has pursued it. The peculiar character of young Griffin contributed still further to this end; he enjoyed the health which flows from equanimity. His mind was singularly well balanced; in that happy even poise which ever preserved its serenity; hence, though earnest, he was not enthusiastic; though diligent, he never overstrained his powers; but preserved on all occasions, even of the highest excitement, a tranquil self-possession, and an even sweetness of temper, which to a stranger savored of coldness; but to those who knew his warm heart, only added to their admiration of his abilities. This felicity of nature was early remarked of him by his teachers. He did every thing, says Mr. G., apparently without effort ; and so far at least as it was called forth in academic competition, the author speaks from long personal observation, having often regarded with wonder his calm benevo- lent repose of features in the midst of the highest exertion; which he remembers on one occasion to have drawn forth from one of his examiners, the warm-hearted exclamation, He has the face of an angel. While a student in Columbia College, some of his Latin and English poems were thought to be of such merit, that they were printed and circulated at the request of the president and at the expense of the institution. At the age of nineteen, in the year 1823, he took the usual degree of A. B., and closed a course of studies, in which he had borne away the palm from every competitor, with the highest honors in the public exer- cises of the commencement. He was now somewhat embarrassed in the choice of a pro- fession. He took, says his biographer, that stcp from which he thought he could most easily recede; he entered his name as a student at law in his fathers office, and for two months VOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 17 iso Griffins Remains. [Jan. diligently read the sages of jurisprudence. Early religious im- pressions, however, and a fondness for speculations of theology, as connected with human action, at length inclined his choice to the ministry. At the opening of the New York Theological Seminary, he became a student, with a view of taking orders in the Protestant Episcopal Church, to which, at that time, none of his family belonged. His reasons for joining himself to a denomination in whose faith he was not educated, are given at some length by his biographer; and when we consider the pain it must have given a mind of which filial affection was so striking a characteristic, to differ on so important a subject with those whom he most loved and reverenced, it will be admitted that they show a mind accustomed to firm indepen- dent conclusions. We are sorry, however, that the writer of a memoir, with which we are otherwise so well pleased, and which is intended for the eyes of the admirers of genius and goodness every where and by whatever name they may be called, should have thought it necessary to take this occasion to enforce the peculiar opinions of his own denomination. Mr. Griffin was admitted to Deacons orders in 1826, and for nearly two years, officiated as an associate minister in two churches in the city of New York. His fine person, and the excellent manner in which he pronounced his animated dis- courses, soon made him a popular preacher, and the vestry of Christs Church offered him a settlement for life, which by the advice of his father he declined. In October, 1828, he set out on his travels for Europe. He made the tour of France, Italy, Switzerland, England, and Scotland, during which his faculties seem to have been kept in as constant and vigorous exercise, as they had ever been in the schools. No person, perhaps, ever travelled with a more fixed determination to travel for improvement, if the word determination can be ap- plied to what seemed the natural and unavoidable bias of his mind. Whatever these countries presented of venerable in historical associations, of admirable in the arts, of majestic ot beautiful in the features of nature, of illustrious in learning and goodness, was observed by him intently, and meditated upon profoundly; and at the end of a year and a half, he returned, with a mind enriched and ripened by observation, and accom- plished for a sure and early eminence. At the time of his arrival in this country, Professor McVicar was obliged by ill health to suspend for a while his college duties, and Mr. Griffin 1832.] Gr~ftins Remazn,s. 131 was solicited to undertake a part of them. His consent to this arrangement imposed on him the task of completing a course of academic lectures, on the history of ancient and modern litera- ture. This he undertook and accomplished in an incredibly short space of time. We quote the passage of the memoir, which speaks of the duty undertaken by Mr. Griffin, both for the views it gives of his qualifications, and its account of the circumstances under which the lectures were composed. It was a duty 1)0th urgent and laborious; involving, in addi- tion to the general charge of history and composition, the imme- diate preparation and delivery of a course of lectures, for which he had made no definite preparation, and in which the short and imperfect notes of the professor could have afforded him, had they been in his hands, but little aid. These lectures continued through the months of May and June, being prepared, written out, and delivered, almost, it may be said, at the same moment. They extend to more than three hundred pages octavo; a degree of manual as well as intellectual labor not often paralleled; and, ~vben coupled with the recollection of it being a voluntary, Un- bought service, taken up without premeditation, in the very moment of return, carried on without aid, and completed in the midst of all the interruptions incident to such a period of con- gratulation; it may be said without exaggeration, that they re- main a noble monument of promptitude, diligence, and knowledge, and afford a rich sample of what might have been effected by him, had life been spared. Of these lectures, some portion, it is under- stood, will be included in the following collection. In justice to their author, the reader must not forget the circumstances of haste under which they were written. For the task itself, Mr. Griffin was well fitted both by nature and education; since, to great natural delicacy of taste, was added a familiar acquaintance with the best models of both ancient and modern times. His classical education had been thorough, so far as that term may be applied to ArAerican scholarship. He was also intimately acquainted with the languages and literature of Italy and France, and deeply read in that of his own tongue. His recent tour had not only extended his knowledge, and still further cultivated his taste, but produced somewhat of its usual influence in raising criticism into a science. The Italian language had been one of his early acquisitions; he was engaged in its study with his lamented sister, when death made him a solitary student. His instructer (Professor Da Ponte) speaks of him as having evinced a singular aptitude in its acquisition, and great diligence and judgment in the perusal of its authors. With the French he 132 Griffins Remains. [Jan. was equally familiar; according to the statement of one of the most accomplished of our French scholars, (the Rev. A. Verren,) he spoke the language upon his return from Europe with such purity, that Mr. V. looked forward with confidence to his occa- sional aid in the supply of his pulpit in that tongue. His course embraced Roman and Italian literature, together with that of England down to the writers of the reign of Charles II. A few weeks after the completion of this undertaking, he was seized with the disorder, which closed a life marked throughout by the most spotless virtue, the strongest filial and fraternal affection, and the most persevering and successful diligence. He expired on the 1st of September, 1830, after three days illness. The memoir closes with a brief and affecting account of the last moments of his life, drawn tip by the parent, whose gentle and judicious management contributed to draw forth the excellent qualities of his mind and character. The Remains consist of a few pages of poetry, a journal of the authors tour through Italy and Switzerland, extracts from the journal of his travels in France, England, and Scot- land, portions of the lectures on ancient and modern literature, and two or three theological dissertations, written while pre- paring for the ministry. These, as we are informed by the authors brother, in a modest preface, were compiled from a mass of manuscript writings, suflicient, if printed, to fill six octavo volumes, not one page of which, with the exception of a single juvenile English poem and two or three Latin ones, was ever intended for the press. Of course they should not be subjected to any austere rules of criticism. They should be judged by their merits, rather than their defects. We may claim that they should bear marks of talent, and that they should possess qualities to make them intrinsically valuable or interesting; but we expect and can overlook omissions which the author would have supplied, inaccuracies which he would have amended, and redundancies which he would have pruned away, had he written with the fear of the public before his eyes. It seems that he had been from his childhood in the habit of committing his thoughts to paper, as an intellectual discipline. Such a habit may give facility and fluency in composition, but it does not secure him who writes only for his own re-perusal or for the eye of partial friends, from writing sometimes with looseness and negligence. Traits of an exuberance of style, like that of an extempore speaker, may occasionally be found 1832.] Griffins Remanis. 133 in the works before us; but on the other hand, they possess this recommendation, that they are written with a natural feeling, from the fulness of the authors heart and the abundance of his own thoughts, that there is no artificial dressing up of ideas, nor ostentatious patchwork of knowledge. His good taste and manly sense also preserve him from any thing affected, fantas- tic or mawkish. The poems are first in order. Such of these as are in Latin are all that is expected from verses in Latin composed by a student; they do credit to his scholarship, and his command over the numbers and idiom of a language, the graceful em- ployment of which is one of the most difficult attainments of human skill. Those in English are not the work of a pro- fessed writer of poetry, nor a youth preparing himself with a determined purpose of eminence in that art; but we think we have seen juvenile poems of less merit written by persons who afterwards became celebrated as poets. They are the occa- sional effusions of an ingenuous spirit of warm feeling, contem- plative, and delighting in poetic imagery and poetic rhythm. The following lines are apparently an imitation of the earlier English poets. If they had been found in an ancient black- letter volume, they might well have passed for a song of the sixteenth century, from the compactness of the expression and a dash of quaintness in the ideas. Like target for the arrows s aim, Like snow beneath the sunny heats, Like wax before the glowing flame, Like cloud before the wind that fleets, I am,tis love has made me so, And, lady, still thou sayst me no. The wounds inflicted by thine eyes, The mortal wound to hope and me, Which naught, alas, can cicatrize, Nor time, nor absence, far from thee. Thou art the sun, the fire, the wind, That makes me such; ah then be kind! My thoughts are darts, my soul to smite; Thy charms the sun, to blind my sense, My wishes,neer did passion light A flame more pure or more intense. Love all these arms at once employs, And wounds and dazzles and destroys. 134 Grjffins Remains. [Jan. The lines On leaving Italy, are spirited, and flowing in the versification. We quote the concluding stanzas. Oh, Italy! my country, fare thee well! For art thou not my country, at whose breast Were nurtured those whose thoughts within me dwell, The fathers of my mind? whose fame imprest, Een on my infant fancy, bade it rest With patriot fondness on thy hills and streams, Eer yet thou didst receive me as a guest, Lovelier than I had seen thee in my dreams? Then fare thee well, my country, loved and lost: Too early lost, alas! when once so dear; I turn in sorrow from thy glorious coast, And urge the feet forbid to linger here. But must I rove by Arnos current clear, And hear the rush of Tibers yellow flood, And wander on the mount, now waste and drear, Where Ca~sars palace in its glory stood. And see again Parthenopes loved bay, And Paestums shrines, and Baiaes classic shore, And mount the bark, and listen to the lay That floats by night through Venice,never more? Far off I seem to hear the Atlantic roar, It washes not thy feet, that envious sea, But waits, with outstretched arms, to waft me oer To other lands, far, far, alas, from thee. Fare, fare thee well once more. I love thee not As other things inanimate. Thou art The cherished mistress of my youth; forgot Thou never caust be while I have a heart. Launched on those waters, wild with storm and wind, I know not, ask not, what may be my lot; For, torn from thee, no fear can touch my mind, Brooding in gloom on that one bitter thought. The most attractive, as well as the larger part of these volumes, consists of the journal of the authors travels in Europe. The tour through Italy and Switzerland, which is given entire in a series of letters, is undoubtedly a less perfect work than it would have been, had it been revised and prepared for publi- cation by the author; yet we are not sure that it is less inter- esting. It is written with great freedom and animation of 1832.] Gr~fflns Rematns. 135 manner, and is pervaded throughout by a deeply felt enthu- siasm for the wonders of nature and prodigies of art, presented to one fresh from a world of different aspect, and wearing on its bosom no traces of past generations. It is impossible not to enter into the feelings of the youthful and accomplished travel- ler, as he visits places hallowed by the glorious recollections of antiquity, or gazes on venerable ruins, on antique statues of etherial mould, and on the sublime creations of the Italian architects, sculptors, and painters. Fitted by his natural sensi- bilities for receiving strong impressions from such objects, his journal shows him deepening those impressions, and render- ing them distinct and indelible, by intense contemplation, and then recording them in the glowing language inspired by the feeling of the moment. This has led to what some may per- Imps think a fault in the work,we mean the multitude of its descriptions of paintings and statues. Allowing that there may be some foundation for this criticism, it would yet be difficult to point out a work of travels, conveying so perfect an idea of the treasures of art which Italy holds in her bosom. Take, for example, the description of the Vatican,its army of statues,its multitude of sculptures in reliefits innumerable pictures,all the miracles of genius glowing on the walls of its aisles and chapels, looking down from its lofticst vaults or dimly seen in its farthest recesses,the vast collection of the choicest antiques and most admirable productions of modern artists, enshrined in its galleries, its halls, and its museums. If the description be long, it is because the subject is inexhausti- ble; but the untravelled reader will admit, that it gives him a better and higher idea of the magnificence of that mighty repository of the wonders of art, and the travelled reader will not be displeased with the means it furnishes of reviving his faded recollections. It is one recommendation of these travels, that nothing in them is borrowed. They are the mere record of what the author actually observed ; there is no compilation, no filling up of the plan of the work from the labors of others. The learning by which they are illustrated, was in the authors mind before he wrote. Travellers in Italy have copied from each other with little scruple. Old Lalandes work on that country has been a store-house of materials for subsequent tourists, a curious instance of which occurs to us. The author of Rome in the nineteenth century, a very good book in the 136 Griffins Remains. [Jan. main, calls Lalande the most tedious of writers, yet steals almost the only pleasant story in his book. In illustration of the indolent character of the Roinans, she relates, that she one day & ntered a shop, the master of which was sitting com- fortably in his chair, and inquired for a certain description of goods. He answered, that it was not in the shop, upon which she pointed to a parcel of the kind she desired, lying on a shelf; Ah, said he, but it is so high!Lalande tells the story in nearly the same words. As a specimen of Mr. Griffins style of description in this part of the work, we quote the account of a scene, which on Easter Sunday follows the ceremony of the papal benediction bestowed in solemn silence on kneeling multitudes. Then begins a scene of confusion, such as would astonish an American crowd. In Europe it seems to be a universal law, that those who ride may trample without scruple upon those that walk. Lines indeed are formed, but are continually deviated from. The cries, the execrations, the waving to and fro of the pierced and endangered, yet still unresisting crowd, cannot be easily imag- ined. It was curious to observe the great variety of costume which distinguished the day. Here came the peasant girl, exult- ing in her blue spencer with red sleeves, her white gown, striped with red and bordered with yellow, her delicate pink shoes, and head-dress formed of a muslin handkerchief, folded in an oblong shape, attached to her forehead and streaming down her back, By her side strutted her sturdy sweetheart, in his sky-blue velvet jacket, his light brown small-clothes, and his crimson sash. By and by came the pilgrim, with his oil-cloth cape, and long iron- shod staff; priests with their black coats, flowing mantles, and three-cornered hats; and friars, with their habits white, brown, and black, were scattered around in every direction. Soldiers and Swiss guards, furnished with pole-axes, helmets, back and breast plates, with clothes slashed and parti-colored in the exact fashion of the middle ages, stood at every portal and every corner of the passages. Here rolled the English equipage, light, taste- ful, and complete; there the gorgeous carriage of the cardinal, with its noble black horses, its red and gilded body, its trappings of silk and gold, its three suspended footmen, and its attendant coaches, two and sometimes three in number, following in the rear. Being very much fatigued by the ceremonies of the morning, and not confiding much in the common on dit of the day, I had almost determined not to visit the illumination in the eve- ning; but remembering that St. Peters was the building to be 1832.] Gr~ffims Rernatns. 137 illuminated, tl~t restless curiosity which haunts one abroad like a disease, at length overcame my reluctance. For this time I was rejoiced that I had indulged it. Arrived at the bridge of St. Angelo, the dome of St. Peters burst upon my view in a new and splendid aspect. From its inferior border, even to the sum- mit of its cross, it was adorned, with lamps arranged in perpen- dicular lines upon its ribs and in the intervals between, somewhat in the form of Jleurs de us, glittering like so many jewels, with a tremulous though brilliant lustre. As we approached, the smaller domes began to raise their heads, shining like satellites, though not with reflected splendor. Farther on, and the cornice of the facade, marked by a double border, became visible in part. Ar- rived on the piazza, we beheld the wholefafade tastefully illumi- nated, its windows and portal just marked, and the capitals of its pillars delicately wreathed with lights. Lines of light also trav- ersed the whole extent of the arcades, and surrounded the whole circumference of the circular piazza. here we sat admi~ng this tasteful and splendid scene, and awaiting the change in the illu- mination. It took place about eight oclock, and was performed ~vithin the space of three strokes of the bell. No less than five hundred men are employed for the purpose. rrhe effect was magical. Suddenly as thought can act, the whole building blazed with what seemed a conflagration. The cross appeared a flame, and the dome to be on fire. ~h architecture of the front was perfectly exhibited. Strong lights shone in the arcades, and be- tween the intervals of the colonnade, opening to discovery their l)eculiar beauties. Pausing upon this gorgeous display, we traced with new admiration the graceful and noble forms, and the stu- pendous magnitude of the building, which rose before us. Ap- pealing less to the judgment, but more forcibly to the imagina- tion, it seemed to lift towards heaven its jewelled mitre, in sign of its pre-eminence above all the edifices in the world. Having traversed the piazza in various directions, in order to catch from every point of view, the varied and beautiful effect of the lighted colonnade, we drove rapidly to the Pincian Mount, on the other side of the city, iii order to view from thence this magnificent phenomenon. Arrived at its summit, iii the neigh- borhood of the church Trinitk del Monte, we looked in the direc- tion of St. Peters. Like the Sultan in the Arabian tale, we could scarce believe our eyes, so changed appeared the scene of yesterday. A fairy fabric, built by no mortal hands, seemed to arise before us. The domes, the greater part of the facade, and one wing of the colonnade, were distinctly visible. They lay floating in the distance beyond the intervening gulf of darkness, waving as if with the suns beams reflected froni burnished gold VOL. XXXiV.No. 74. iS 138 Griffins Remains. [Jan. and transparent topaz, surpassing the most gorg~ous picture of even an oriental imagination. The exhibition closed with a tremendous display of fireworks from the castle of St. Angelo, on Monday evening. Having ob- tained a chair early on the very brink of the river opposite, 1 was entertained, while I awaited the commencement of the show, by the picturesque effect of a multitude of torches borne in boats, which were plying up and down the river. The red light shed on the stream beneath, or on the dark countenances and rude forms of those who bore them, the music which floated from time to time across the waters, the merriment of a number of young men upon the opposite bank, who now fenced with blazing torches, and now waltzed with them in their hands, and again ran to and fro as if in the madness of a bacchanalian revel, the gaiety of costume, and cheerfulness of countenance and festivity of tone and action which pervaded the multitude around, at length released from the rigors of Lent, constituted a scene of animated and pleasing interest. At length the explosion of two cannons, whose sounds were long reverberated along the channel of the river from the distant city, announced the commencement of the fireworks. They began with a burst of rockets, which lighted up with a fierce glare the houses of the city, the varied dresses and faces of the multitude, the river with its boats, the beautiful arched bridge in the vicinity, and the rolling canopy of smoke caused by the inflammation of their contents. When the smoke had cleared away, we found the whole vast exterior surface of the castle covered with letters and festoons of delicate white light. It is not possible, nor would it be worth while, to describe the various acts of the exhibition, the wheels of fire, the cascades of flame, the darting of myriads of blazing serpents into the obscure of night, the bursting of stars from out the black cloud of smoke, and their fall to earth shattered into a thousand fragments, the roll of musketry, the roar of cannon, the conflagration which sometimes embraced the whole castle, clothing it in all the ter- rors of a burning mountain. The grand eruption of the volcano was reserved until the last. After a few moments of profound obscurity, amidst the thunder of cannon and the incessant rat- tling of minor reports, whose close succession served to show how infinitely divisible is time, thousands of rockets burst from every quarter of the castle with a rush that seemed as if it must bear along with it the solid fabric; a blaze, that, piercing through its dense envelopement of smoke, shed a glare as if from Panda~nio- nium, on all around; and an irregular but tremendous explosion in the air, which appeared about to pour on our devoted heads the inevitable fate of the buried neighbors of Vesuvius. The fondness of the Romans for public spectacles seems to 18a~.J Gr~fflns Remacas. 139 be their ruling passion. On the present occasion, I really be- lieve that Rome was more than half unpeopled. The crowd, the rush, the intermixture of horses and carriages with men, wo- men, and children in the narrow streets, were really frightful, and in fact dangerous, unless to the strong and active. The do- cility and quietness of the noble Roman horse on such occasions, is truly astonishing. The civility of the people, too, is admirable. There is no elbowing; no striving to get before you. rhe press- ure seems owing to a general impulse, and not to any individual effort. Although there was a fine moon on both the evenings above described, yet so bright were the illumination and the blaze of fireworks, that their effect seemed scarcely to be diminished. On the following night, I went to observe the effect of moon- light on the piazza of St. Peters. How calm and beautiful was the contrast! Here was the restoration of nature and of truth, after those fairy visions,of nature and of truth under their most enchanting aspect. The colonnade, with its rich intervals of brightness and deep shade, the fountains discharging shoots of liquid silver breaking into silver spray, the lofty steps, the broad fapade resting in obscurity, but surmounted by the white lustre of the aspiring dome, presented an assemblage of objects, upon which the soothed and pleased imagination rested with perpetual enjoyment. The portions given from the journal of the authors travels in France and Great Britain, possess another kind of interest. They contain various sketches of the philosophers, authors, statesmen, divines, and other eminent personages of the two countries. We quote a lively account of a symposium, at which Mr. Griffin found himself in company ~vith some of the brightest wits of the United Kingdom. It is entitled, in the volumes before us, A Literary Party. I dined yesterday, with a very distinguished party, at Mr. M*****s, consisting of Moore, Lockhart, Washington Irving, Smith, one of the authors of the Rejected Addresses, and other beaux esprits; Mitchell, the translator of Aristophanes; and some others, of less name and fame. The first is, certainly, a most un- poetical figure. Nor is his countenance, at first sight, more prom- ising than his person. When you study it, however; when you consider the height of the bald crown, the loftiness of the receding pyramidal forehead; the marked, yet expanded and graceful lines of the mouth; above all, when you catch the bright smile and the brilliant eye-beam, which accompany the flashes of his wit and the sallies of his fancy; you forget, and are ready to disavow your former impressions. To Moore, Lockhart offers a 140 Griffins Remains. [Jan. strong and singular contrast. Tall, and slightly, but elegantly formed, his head possesses the noble contour, the precision and harmony of outline, ~vhich distinguish classic sculpture. It pos- sesses, too, a striking effect of color, in a complexion pale, yet pure, and hair black as the ravens wing. Though his counte- nance is youthful, (he seems scarce more than thirty) yet I should designate reflection as the prominent, combined expression of that broad, white forehead; those arched and pencilled brows; those retired, yet full, dark eyes ; the accurately chiseled nose; and compressed, though curved lips. His face is too thin, per- haps, for mere beauty; but this defect heightens its intellectual character. Our distinguished countryman is of about the ordi- nary height, and rather stout in person. his hair is black, and his complexion sicklied oer with the pale cast of thought. His eyes are of a pale color; his profile approaches the Grecian, and is remarkably benevolent and contemplative. Mr. Smith carries a handsome, good-natured countenance; and Mr. Mitch- ells physiognomy, though not handsome, is, at least, amiable. The conversation at dinner consisted chiefly in the relation of anecdotes. To my great disappointment, no discussion of any length or interest took place. It must be admitted that the anec- dotes were select, and told with infinite wit and spirit. Many of them, I doubt not, were the inventions of the narrators. Such seemed to be peculiarly the case with those of Mr. Moore and Mr. Smith; who, though seated at different ends of the table, frequently engaged each other from time to time, in a sort of con- test for superiority. This contest, however, ~vas still carried on in the same ~vay. Both tried only which could relate the most pungent witticism, or tell the most amusing story. The subjects of the anecdotes in general were extremely interesting. Lord Byron, and other eminent men, with whom the speakers had been or were familiar, were frequently brought upon the stage. Mr. Lockhart, meantime, though he seemed to enjoy the pleasan- tries of others, contributed none of his own. Whatever he did say, was in a Scottish accent, and exhibited strong sense and ex- tensive reading. Mr. Irving seems to be one of those men, who, like Addison, have plenty of gold in their pockets, but are almost destitute of ready change. His reserve, however, is of a strik- ingly different character from that of the editor of the Quarterly. The one appears the reserve of sensibility; the other that of thought. The taste of the one leads him apparently to examine the suggestions of his own mind with such an over scrupulosity, that he seldom gives them utterance. The reflection of the other is occupied in weighing the sentiments expressed, and separating the false from the true. Mr. Irving is mild and bland, even anxious to please. Mr. Lockhart is abstracted and cold, almost indifferent. 1832.] Ur~flins Rernants. 14 t On returning to the drawing-room, the scene was changed, though the great actors remained in part at least the same. Mu- sic was substituted for conversation. Mr. Smith gave an original song, full of humor and variety. Mr. Moore was induced to seat himself at the piano, and indulged his friends with two or three of his own Irish melodies. I cannot describe to you his singing; it is perfectly unique. The combination of music, and of poetic sentiment, emanating from one mind, and glowing in the very countenance, and speaking in the very voice which that same mind illuminates and directs, produces an effect upon the eye, the ear, the taste, the feeling, the whole man, in short, such as no mere professional excellence can at all aspire to equal. his head is cast backward, and his eyes upward, with the true inspi- ration of an ancient bard. His voice, though of little compass, is inexpressibly sweet. He realized to me, in many respects, my conceptions of the poet of love and ~viue; the refined and ele- gant, though voluptuous Anacreon. The modern poet has more sentiment than the Greek; but can lay no claim, (what modern author can?) to the same simplicity and purity of taste. His genius, however, is niore versatile. The old voluptuary com- plains of his inability to celebrate a warlike theme; his lyre will not obey the impulse of his will. But the author of the Fire Worshippers gave us, in the course of the evening, an Irish rebels song, which was absolutely thrilling. Anacreon was, however, afterwards restored to us in a drinking song, composed to be sung at a convivial meeting of an association of gentlemen. I cannot conclude this brief sketch, without saying a few words of my host. He is a good looking man, with a pre-occu- pied and anxious air. This gives way, hbwever, to true Scottish sense and cordiality in conversation. He has a strong under- standing, and a good memory; and is exceedingly interesting from the long intercourse which he has maintained with, and the intimate knowledge he possesses, of all the eminent literary char- acters of the age. The memoirs of himself and his times would be invaluable. He has been the Mmecenas of his day; and, though not the favorite of an emperor, has conferred more sub- stantial rewards on merit, than even the distinguished Roman. Such has been his liberality, that, though millions have passed through his hands, he is, I am told, by no means exorbitantly rich. Of the lectures, out. readers have already had some account, in a quotation from the Memoir of Professor WlcVicar. The l)ortions inclnded in these volumes, arc specimens of a work of considerable extent, embracing an entire view of Roman and Italian literature, and of English literature in its earlier 142 Urtifins Remains. [Jan. and most vigorous period, and giving the character of the prin- cipal authors in each. Compelled by the short space allowed him, and the numerous demands on his time, to derive his principal materials from his own literary recollections, aided by a brief and hurried consultation of authors, the work bears necessarily the marks of haste, yet it attests a mind well fur- nished, by a large and diligent course of reading, for so com- prehensive an undertaking, and shows a celeriiy of literary execution altogether extraordinai~y. How eloquently he could discourse of the great masters of verse in his own and other languages, will appear from the following passages, which we take from his criticism of the great work of Dante. This great poem, with all its imperfections, could not fail to excite the astonishment of the age in which it appeared, and to attract the lasting admiration of posterity. It may be compared to an extensive wood, filled with the tallest trees of the forest, covered underneath with a carpet of the richest verdure, and fragrant with the ~vildest, brightest, sweetest flowers ; but where you are sometimes lost in the darkness of the shades, and often per- plexed by the devious and intricate paths. Though Dante cannot, upon the whole, be styled the first of poets, I should be inclined to place him above all others, for some of the highest attributes of genius. The conception of his great work is grand, original, sublime. He invented images, he established a language for himself. His style is as peculiar as it is original. Not an un- meaning word weakens its intense energy, and not a superfluous ornament impairs its sublime simplicity. He kindles the imagi- nation by a hint; he rouses the spirit by one trumpet tone; he affects the heart by one thrilling touch; he tortures the sense by one appalling image; and then leaves to the fancy of his reader the labor of developement. The reader of Dante should, there- fore, himself be a man of genius. Mere taste is not adequate to comprehend him fully, or appreciate him duly. Yet the general and endutiug admiration with which his great work is regarded, is a proof how powerfully it addresses itself~ in the main, to the universal sympathies of our nature. What most strongly im- presses the reader, is the profound solemnity and earnestness with which it is written. The mind of the poet seems full of the remembrance of the unearthly mysteries which had been re- vealed to him, and not yet recovered from the awe they had inspired. What he writes seems to be dictated by recollection, rather than by invention. He does not seek to embellish, to heighten, to amplify; he seems to feel that this would be doing sacrilege to his subject; he appears to aim at communicating in 1832.] (Jiiffins Remains. 148 the most concise and direct terms, an adequate conception of the images yet vivid in his memory. It is impossible to resist the contagion of that awe, by which the mind of the poet is over- whelmed; or to refuse, while you read, your assent to the truth and reality of the scenes he describes. You are impressed by the simple, grand, unaffected strains of the Florentine bard, with much the same reverential emotion, as when you read the poetry of the Hebrew Scriptures. But to make you more familiar with the genius and character of Dante, it may not be amiss to attempt a brief comparison be- tween him and the English bard, who most nearly resemnble~ him; I mean the great epic poet of our language. Milton and Dante both depict the awful mysteries of Heaven and of hell; but it must not be forgotten that the Tuscan was the precursor. Nor had he any light to guide his path but his own genius. The example of Virgil inspired him to write, but instructed him neither in his matter nor his manner. Dante was the first to sing of Heaven and of hell, not as the dreams of mythological fiction, but as the objects of a real faith. He was the first who launched from this promontory on which we stand, into the vast immensity of the universe, traversed the abyss amidst demons and infernal tortures, and mounting afterwards through angelic hosts and un- discovered worlds, gazed with steadfast eye upon the glories of the Highest. Such is the bold and daring course, in which Milton is but his follower. Dante ~vas the Columbus who dis- covered this new world of poesy; Milton only the Americus Vespucius who pursued his track. In originality, Dante probably surpassed even Homer himself. We cannot now ascertain, how much the Jonian bard was in- debted to his predecessors. Time has covered the literary history of that period with utter oblivion. The very perfection of his poems would seem to indicate, that he must have derived some aid from the labors and experience of those who had gone before him. It is difficult to suppose, that he could so far have approached the creative attributes of the Deity as to form out of the chaos of heroic fable, by the untaught efforts of his own genius, those stupendous and matured works, which resemble, in their varied magnificence, in the minute regularity of all their parts, in the adaptation of those parts to make one harmonious and glorious whole, that universe itself whose image they reflect. On the other hand, the very irregularities and imper- fections of Dante, are evidence of his originality; they betray the first, the yet immature efforts of invention. But, though surpassing the English bard in originality, the gloomy Tuscan was inferior in the perfection of his imagination. He did not conceive an epic poem. Though he had the exam- 114 Mary Queen qf Scots. [Jan. pie of Virgil before his eyes, yet his genius and the times led him to a dramatic narrative, possessing unity indeed in its general plan, yet often fantastic, and not seldom tedious. Milton, on the other hand, though originally inclined to throw his mighty sub- ject into the form of an allegorical masque or mystery, happily gave himself up at length to the inspiration of the epic muse. His creative and comprehensive imagination erected from the materials of his subject a fair and stately edifice, which engrosses and almost over~vhelms the mind, and continues to elevate the spirit, even when employed in the inspection of the parts. The Divina Commedia is like a Gothic cathedral, immense and sublime in its dimensions, vast and irregular in all its parts, wild, rich and picturesque in its ornaments, into whose long and lofty aisles the light streams as if unwillingly, unable to overcome the gloom congenial to the place. The Paradise Lost is like the in- terior of the Panthebn at Rome. The noble breadth of the rotunda, the height of the aspiring dome, the chaste magnificence which pervades the whole, above all, the perfect unity which, admitting no distraction, combines every part into one undivided effect, create an intensity of admiration. There is but one space, and only a single light. ThG symmetrical, the majestic whole is seen~ is felt, at a glance. The lectures on Italian literature contain versions of several of the most striking passages of the Italian poets. That from Dante, reThting the pathetic story of Count Ugolino, is worth comparing with the translation of Cary. We take our leave of the work, with remarking, that the theological dissertations at the close, bear traces of the same mind, which dictated the travels and the lectures. ART. VIL.Mary Queen of Scots. The Life of Mary Queen of Scots. By HENRY GLAss- FORD BELL, Esq. Family Library, Vols. XXI. and XXII. New York. 1831. When a trying question was once submitted to the court of Areopagus, that venerable body, anxious that justice should be relieved from the prejudices of the hour, directed the parties (with perhaps too little regard for their convenience) to appear in court again at the expiration of a hundred years. They considered this time amply sufficient to allow for prejudices and passions to die away. Could they, by any prophetic vision,

114 Mary Queen qf Scots. [Jan. pie of Virgil before his eyes, yet his genius and the times led him to a dramatic narrative, possessing unity indeed in its general plan, yet often fantastic, and not seldom tedious. Milton, on the other hand, though originally inclined to throw his mighty sub- ject into the form of an allegorical masque or mystery, happily gave himself up at length to the inspiration of the epic muse. His creative and comprehensive imagination erected from the materials of his subject a fair and stately edifice, which engrosses and almost over~vhelms the mind, and continues to elevate the spirit, even when employed in the inspection of the parts. The Divina Commedia is like a Gothic cathedral, immense and sublime in its dimensions, vast and irregular in all its parts, wild, rich and picturesque in its ornaments, into whose long and lofty aisles the light streams as if unwillingly, unable to overcome the gloom congenial to the place. The Paradise Lost is like the in- terior of the Panthebn at Rome. The noble breadth of the rotunda, the height of the aspiring dome, the chaste magnificence which pervades the whole, above all, the perfect unity which, admitting no distraction, combines every part into one undivided effect, create an intensity of admiration. There is but one space, and only a single light. ThG symmetrical, the majestic whole is seen~ is felt, at a glance. The lectures on Italian literature contain versions of several of the most striking passages of the Italian poets. That from Dante, reThting the pathetic story of Count Ugolino, is worth comparing with the translation of Cary. We take our leave of the work, with remarking, that the theological dissertations at the close, bear traces of the same mind, which dictated the travels and the lectures. ART. VIL.Mary Queen of Scots. The Life of Mary Queen of Scots. By HENRY GLAss- FORD BELL, Esq. Family Library, Vols. XXI. and XXII. New York. 1831. When a trying question was once submitted to the court of Areopagus, that venerable body, anxious that justice should be relieved from the prejudices of the hour, directed the parties (with perhaps too little regard for their convenience) to appear in court again at the expiration of a hundred years. They considered this time amply sufficient to allow for prejudices and passions to die away. Could they, by any prophetic vision, 1832.] Mary Queen of Scots. 145 have foreseen the question concerning the guilt or innocence of Queen Mary, they might well have doubted whether their term of adjournment should not have been extended, by at least another century. Here is the example of a Queen, who has engaged the general interest and attention, more than any other of her sex that ever existed; who has been condemned, again and again, by able and popular historians, and defended by those whose works have never obtained any considerable circulation, and yet the public mind is not made up; her accusers have never secured the verdict of the world against her. There has been a perpetual suspicion, that those histo-. rians were more governed by prejudice than conviction; and, as the amount of testimony which they were able to adduce, bore no proportion to their confidence, men in general have determined, wisely and properly in our opinion, to regard her as innocent till she is proved guilty. It is sometimes supposed~ that this tenderness toward her is owing to the renown of her beauty; if it were so, one would suppose that the same charity would be extended to Helen, Cleopatra, and other ladies of that description, who are by no means treated with the same forbearance, though equally celebrated for personal charms. We have, in our own times, had an opportunity of seeing how soon even folly can destroy the sympathy of the nations. Never was there more enthusiasm than that inspired by that delightful vision, the late Queen of France; but, since the world has learned that her indiscretions did much to injure her unfortunate husband, lovely and ill-starred as she was, this interest is nearly lost. Whether Mary were guilty or not, there is no doubt that she was basely injured ; but we believe, that unless the world had been firmly persuaded of her innocence, their sympathy would have subsided, almost as soon as her beauty was changed into dust and ashes. It is fortunate for the reputation of Mary, that her trial has thus been continued from one age to another; for it is evident, that there has been no time, during the last two centuries, when a Catholic or a Stuart could have gained an impartial hearing. But now, a new spirit is busy in the records of English history; religious prejudices and their results are sternly examined; political prepossessions are also made sub- jects of inquiry; and it begins to be doubted, whether the cause of truth is materially served by exchanging one passion for another. With respect to crowned heads, a feeling begins VOL. xxxlv.No. 74. 19 146 Mary Queen of Scots. [J~ri. to prevail, similar to that expressed by the guide of the Spanish satirist, who in vision went down to the infernal regions. He asked to see the apartment allotted to kings, and, on seeing it, expressed his wonder that so few were there. Few, said his conductor, there are all that ever reigned! We do not mean to say, that the public mind is yet impartial; but it has broken part of its chains. The prejudice against the Catholics has had the most decided effect upon historical representations. We have no sympathy with the Roman faith, and we bless the reform which broke up the deep foundations of its power; but every enlightened Protestant now admits, that the feeling of the reformers, though not too severe, perhaps, against the faith of the Catholics, con- sideiing the evils to which it led, was far too indiscriminate and unsparing in its condemnation of their characters and per- sons, and amounted at last to intolerance much resembling that which they condemned in the Catholics themselves. It has led historians into an infinite variety of errors; it is truly sur- prising to remark, how events and persons, seen through the distorting glass of their prejudice, have lost their true form, colors, and proportions. Thus, in reference to Catholic intol- erance, they have almost made the stones cry out for vengeance upon that spirit which kindled the fires of martyrdom, and every heart joins in the disgust and abhorrence they express; but they have converted this into mis-representation, by sinking the fact, that Sir Thomas More, Cranmer, and John Rogers, the former an enlightened Catholic, the two latter Protestant apostles, approved and encouraged the burning of those whom th& y considered heretics, regarding it, as it was evidently re- garded in that day, as nothing more than a fair and rightful use of power, and only to be condemned when personally applied to themselves. The name of bloody Mary has been held up to the detestation of ages, as in truth she well deserved it; but something less than justice is done, when they conceal the fact, that the blood of Catholics flowed as fast in the days of Elizabeth, as that of Protestants in her sisters. These are serious things; but there is something burlesque in the grandeur with which they boast themselves of her, whom they call (lucus a non lucendo) Englands virgin queen. A woman of great ability she undoubtedly was; but they can see no weakness in a toothless old lady, aping the dress and graces of fifteen; and it does not occur to them, that it was not the most glorious 1832.] JIIary Queen of Scots. 147 time for their country, when the nation trembled before a vixen, who swore at her Parliament, boxed the ears of her generals, and cuffed her ladies of honor with her own royal hands. We shall dwell no further on this, than to say, that we do the majority of Protestant historians no injustice, when we observe, that they seem to have thought, that all was corruption in the ancient Church, and, that before their Rhadamanthus-like tribunal, the word Catholic was synonymous with guilty. We feel, therefore, that the opinions they have filed against Mary are of little importance, except so far as they have brought circumstances and testimony to support them. Another reason which has been unfavorable to Mary is, that her name was Stuart,a name which has been unpopular in England for a long time, and with good reason; the question, however, is not so much whether the Stuarts were a bad race, as whether any other line, unrestrained by their subjects, would be any better. There is no doubt of their determination to enslave their people; but where is the royal line which is not equally resolute in claiming every inch of power, which the spirit of freedom and endurance will allow them? Kings look upon power as their property; and they regard the patriot as the citizen the tax-gatherer, believing that he has a perfect right to all that he can keep back from the publicans exaction. The difficulty was not so much in the character of the Stuarts, as in the notions of sovereignty which they inherited, and in the corrupt state of institutions, which gave them power to oppress. The late King of France was doubtless as intelli- gent, and probably as well meaning as any European sove- reign; but education and habit rendered him unable to see the position in which he stood, tmd as when the ship is sunk, every sailor knows how she might have been saved, he is commonly regarded as a wrong-headed fool. But though the fate of the Stuarts was very similar to that of the Bourbons, we are free to confess, that we can see nothing in the mind or heart, in the l)Liblic or private character of the Protestant suc- cession, with which they need blush to compare. Their history resembles a torrent, breaking out from the northern mountains, which moves on in desolating grandeur, till it spreads and sinks on the plain, and leaves its channel dry. We do not admire them in their greatness, but we sympathize with them in their fall. There is something affecting to us in the thought of Charles, however misguided, laying down his gray 148 Jllary Queen of Scots. [Jan. discrowned head upon the block; of James, when he heard that William had landed, directing Kneller to go on with his portrait, that he might not disappoint his friend; of Henrietta, unable to rise for want of a fire, in the palaces of France; of the young chevalier, making a desperate attempt to regain the kingdom which he believed his own; and the whole heraldry of their race, at last sinking unhonored to the dust. The only vestige of their line now existing, is the descendant of the Duke of Berwick, natural son of James IL., who is one of the grandees of Spain. Historians have ~mplicitly followed the advice of the Fool in Lear, when the great wheel goes up hill, let him haul thee after; but when it goes down, let go, lest thou break thy neck with following it. They have thrown contempt on the Stuarts from Mary downward, and shown a diligence in flattering the talents and virtues of the Brunswick line, which indicates that they knew what would suit the pQpu- lar feeling, and who were best able to pay for praise. Now when we consider how thorough-going and tenacious all these prejudices are, and what power a popular historian has over the feeling and judgment of his readers,a power which grows out of our familiarity with works, which interest us day after day,works, to which we yield a grateful confi- dence, because they have entertained us in many vacant hours, it is matter of surprise to us, that the public mind should have so long hesitated to pronounce judgment against Queen Mary. No historian has been more read than Robertson in this coun~ try; though now the world begins to acquiesce in Johnsons opinion, that he would he crushed by his own weight. Hume, too, another great enemy of Mary, has exercised an unbounded influence over American readers, insomuch, that several years ago, the youth of our country, though sworn friends of freedom, were almost unanimous in favor of the unfortunate but usurping Charles, and were ready to justify transactions in the English history, which were most decidedly opposed to their own feel- ings and opinions. Though all this historical authority has not carried the day, every one knows that it has created a strong suspicion of Mary, and as this is a subject of general interest, we propose to give a slight view of the evidence in support of that indictment, to which she pleads not guilty. The controversy began with the work of the celebrated Buchanan, who was patronized by Murray and encouraged by Cecil, and was naturally swayed by the strong feelings of 1832.] Mary queen of Scots. 149 gratitude and hope. No one in this age doubts the unscrupu- bus ambition of the good Regent, or the excessive dissimu- lation of the English secretary. They were probably nearly as well understood in their own times, but they took care, in all their enterprises, to secure the favor of the great Protestant party; and the world has probably never seen the time when a party would hesitate to justify its idol, even at the expense of truth and honor. Buchanan could by no means excuse Mur- rays treatment of his sister, except by pronouncing her guilty of enormous crimes; and he, as well as Knox, whose courage often degenerated into brutality, doubtless believed that a Catholic was, as a matter of course, capable of every sin. His statements were contested by Lesley, bishop of Ross, and others; but the tide was setting altogether in one direction, and the English public, with that candor for which it was always distinguished, was, like old Transfer in Zeluco, willing to hear reason when it had made up its mind. The controversy was revived at a future time, by the attempts of the Stuarts to regain the English throne; nothing was so acceptable to the winning side, as attempts to dishonor the birth and ancestry of the exiled princes. But the question was not debated with much research or fairness, till after the deci- sive year 1745. Then Mr. Goodall, Librarian to the Faculty of Advocates, published an examination of the Letters attributed to Mary. Robertsons history appeared four years after; and it is easy to see, that a collection of ancient documents, which none but the antiquary would ever think of reading, could have no effect, compared with a history, which by a favor, not per- haps fully deserved, was found on almost every table. By a curious self-contradiction, Robertson creates sympathy for her, as one who died the death of the innocent, though she lived the life of the guilty. As we have already said, he was sup- ported by Hume, whose philosophical narrative will always be admired, though his historical inaccuracy is now so clearly proved, that he never will be cited as an authority in matters of fact again. Tytlers defence does not seem to have gained a very extensive circulation; and the same may be said of Whitaker, who published a work on the subject in three octavo volumes, without one word of index at the beginning or end. The work of Chalmers on the same side, which appeared in 1818, contains much information, and is more generally known; but how can works, consisting of historical documents thrown 1 ~O Mary Queen of Scots. [Jan. together without the least regard to heavens first law, and in which one searches for a fact as for a needle in a hay- stack, with an oppressive feeling of despair, ever make an impression on the public mind? The consequence has been, that these works, like the gun at Mahomets siege of Constan- tinople, which was with great ado fired seven times a day, have been wholly ineffectual in modern warfare; and this mismanage- ment confirms the saying, that the indiscretion of friends is more injurious at times, than the worst enmity of foes. Lingard, in his history, gives no opinion concerning this question, but merely narrates the facts, and leaves them to make their own impression. Sir Walter Scott does not profess to speak with confidence on the subject, but leans toward the unfavorable side; still he speaks of the saintly patience with which she endured the misery and exile of her later years. We might remind him that this is not the kind of virtue, which adulterers and murderers are most apt to display. On the whole, we have no doubt, that in England, one may know a priori from the party in which a man is interested, what his opinion is concerning the innocence or guilt of Mary. In this country, there is no such disturbing force in the way of forming deliberate opinions; and as, when we began our investigations of the subject, we had little doubt of her guilt, we have the more confidence in the conclusion to which we have arrived at last, that she was innocent of the greatest of crimes. But we must make one remark concerning this controversy; each party have gone to the extreme; if the one have proved her innocent of murder, they speik as if no reproach remained; if the other have proved her guilty of imprudence and folly, they leap to the conclusion, that she was accessory to her bus- hands death. We think it necessary, therefore, to say, that we do not exalt her into an angel, when we declare our con- viction, that her husbands death was owing to other counsels and other hands. The first piece of direct evidence brought to prove that Mary was concerned in the murder of Darnley, was the con- fession of Paris, a French servant of her household, who tes- tified concerning a conference of Mary and Bothwell before the murder, in which that event was plainly alluded to; but this confession was wrung from him by torture, by those who were most deeply interested in proving Mary guilty, and the circumstances are so suspicious throughout, that such evidence 1832.] Mary Q~ueer& of Scols. 151 would not now be admitted by a country justice in a case of trover. Here they had a most important witness,the only human being who could testify to this fact, which they were so earnest to establish,but was he brought before Parliament or any unprejudiced court, where his testimony might be cross- examined and sifted? So far from it, lie was hurried to exe- cution, and what they chose to call his confession was offered in his stead. This is sufficient to show that it does not de- serve the name of evidence; but there is yet more. Paris, and the others who made confessions, spoke to the spectators at their execution ; and the bishop of Ross, addressing the Kings lords, said, We can tell you, and so can five thousand more, of their own hearing, that John Hepburn did openly cry and testify, as he should answer before God, that you were the principal authors, counsellors, and assisters with his master (Bothwell) in this infamous murder; we can tell you that Hay, Powrie, Dalgleish and Paris, took God to record at the time of their death, that the murder was by your counsel, in- vention and drift, committed; they also declared, that they knew not the Queen to be participant or aware thereof. Mr. Laing thinks this statement false; but we are evidently bound, without disrespect to him, to pay less regard to what he says than to what lie proves. Morton, the bitter enemy of Mary, confessed before his death, that he promised to join the conspiracy against Darnley, if Bothwell would pro- cure a sign of the Queens consent; but this he was unable to do. The confession of Paris is easily disposed of; and there is no other direct evidence, excepting the well known silver box, which came into possession of the Earl of Morton. This con- tained letters, contracts and sonnets, said to have been ad- dressed by herself to the Earl of Bothwell. The story spread concerning it, unsupported however by any evidence, was this; that on the 20th of June, 1567, Dalgleish, a servant of Both- well, was seized with this casket in his possession. It had been sent for safe-keeping to the castle of Edinburgh, and Bothwell sent this servant to demand it of Sir James Balfour, the governor of the castle. The box was taken from Dalgleish, and the fact established by the oath of the Earl of Morton. No hint of this momentous discovery was given till the 4th of December. The lords say, that Dalgleish was judicially ex- amined before the Earls of Morton and Athol. Not a single 152 Mary Queen of Scots. [Jan. question was put to him on this subject; he was not confronted with Sir James Balfour, from whom he was said to have re- ceived the box, nor with the servants of Morton, who were said to have taken it from him. His confessien, in which he admits his share in Darnleys murder, contains not one word respecting this box; but the enemies of the Queen, interested as they were in establishing the fact, had no curiosity upon the subject, and said not one word about it, till several months after the death of the only person, whose testimony, supposing it to have been in their favor, could have done them any good. Dalgleish died, asserting the innocence of the Queen, and charging the murder upon the Earls of Murray and Morton. It will be observed, that this box was said to have been dis- covered on the 20th of June, 1567. Not a word was said about it till December 4th of the same year; and the fact, that Morton seized it in the hands of Dalgleish, was not made known till the 16th of September, 1568. Many important events, which imperiously required some such evidence, took place between June and December. A proclamation was issued for apprehending Bothwell, but nothing was said of this evidence or the guilt of the Queen, who was then in the hands of the Protestant lords. An ambassador came from France to inquire the cause of their treatment of the Queen, but they did not produce these substantial reasons. They spoke of her to Throgmorton with respect and reverence, and while they were earnest to impress him with a conviction of her guilt, did not employ these papers. They compelled the Queen to resign her crown, but resorted to frivolous pre- tences to justify their violence, when the contents of this box, had they possessed it, would have thrown into confusion all the friends of Mary. The only reply made to these argu- ments is, that it would have been unsafe for the lords to have produced them before; unsafe to produce the evidence of her guilt, while it was perfectly safe for them, without evidence, to treat her as if she were guilty! So absurd is it to suppose, when all the power of Scotland was in their hands, they could have apprehended any thing at home, that it is said that the lords feared Elizabeth, who, at this time, was really interested in favor of Mary. Believe it who will! Add to this the im- probability of the fact, that Bothwell should leave such papers in such a place, when they were of no use to him after his mar- riage with the Queen, and yet contained perfect evidence of 1832.] Mary Queen of & ots. 153 the guilt of both,that when his affairs were in the most threatening position, he should have left these papers in a castle where he dared not take refuge himself,that when he might have destroyed them at any time, he should have suffered them to exist, and at last sent a servant, not to destroy them, but to bring them to him through the midst of his foes, that Daigleish, the well known servant of Bothwell, should have passed into the city through a gate guarded by four hundred and fifty hostile soldiers, and that, when he reached the castle, Balfour, who had deserted the falling fortunes of Bothwell, should give up the box without hesitation, are cir- cumstances which we shall feel excused in not believing. The only reason we can imagine, why Dalgleish was not pressed to confess these things when under the torture, was a natural fear, lest his confession should prove too much like his dying declaration on the scaffold. So much for the manner in which the papers were pro- cured; and next, we are to see for what purpose the lords employed them. They first allude to them in the act of a council assembled on the 4th of December, 1567, in which the lords declare, that in order to justify themselves, they must make an open disclosure of the whole matter; and go on to state, that their seizure of the Queens person, on the 15th of June, an& her imprisonment in Lochleven castle, and all other things inventit, spokin, writtin or donne by them or onny of them, towiching the saied queene hir person, from the 10th day of February, until the date of the act, were in conseq~uence of these privie letters, writtin and subscrivit with her awin hand, and sent by her to James ErIl Bothwell. The story of the seizure of the box upon Dalgleish was not pub- lished till the next year, when they had, probably, forgotten the exact statements of this act in council. So that it appears by their own declaration, that the lords rose in insurrection on the 10th of June, fought against her on the 15th at Carberry hill, and imprisoned her on the J 6th, entirely in consequence of evidence of her guilt, which accidentally fell into their hands on the 20th of the same month in the same year. On the 15th of December, the lords applied to Parliament for an act approving the severity with which they had pro- ceeded against the Queen. No investigation was invited or permitted; but these letters were mentioned as the ground of their defence; and in the act of Parliament, (which still exists) VOL. xxxIV.NO. 74. 20 154 Mary queen of Scots. [Jan. it appears that the subscription to them was no longer there, though in the act of council, they are expressly mentioned as subscribed with her own hand. They never afterwards pre- tended that she had subscribed them. Mr. Laing accounts for this material discrepancy, by proposing to read in the act of council, writtin or subscribed instead of writtin and sub- scribed,with a confidence like that of Archimedes, that if he can only find a place to stand upon, he can move the world. The lords probably thought a slight alteration unim- poltant as well as Mr. Laing. Humne and others say, that it was, doubtless, a secretarys blunder. However accounted for, it is certain that they were subscribed by Mary on the 4th, and on the 15th the subscription had disappeared, no one knew how. To us it seems easily explained ; Mary still re- tained hei sea], so that it was not pretended that the letters were sealed; and though in the secret council, it might be credited that Mary had sent unsealed letters to Bothwell, containing distinct intimations of adultery and murder, sub- scribed with her own hand, it was not a story likely to be helieved by the world, and, therefore, the subscriptions were withdrawn. The letters next appear at the celebrated conference, as it was called, held by three sets of commissioners, appointed by Mary, Elizabeth and Murray severally, the object of which was, to establish charges against the Scottish Queen. The usual charges were hrought against her, to which her agents opposed a triumphant reply. They stated, that so far from believing Bothwell guilty of her husbands murder, she had seen him acquitted by a regular trial, in which three of Mur- rays commissioners, (who now accused her of allowing an unfair trial,) sat as judges ;-.--that she had willingly parted from Bothwell, as they had themselves seen; and so strongly did she support the various positions of her defence, that Murray had nothing to reply, and Hume himself confesses, that up to this period of the trial, Mary had the advantage. It was, therefore, necessary that the letters should appear on the stage again; and they accordingly come, re-inforced by contracts and amatory sonnets addressed by Mary to Bothwell, and Morton swore that all had been found in it at the time when it came into his possession. Here again, the intrepid Mr. Laing declares, that the Scotch dialect includes all papers in the general name of letters; though that language is some- 1832.] Alary queen of Scots. 155 times considered harsh, it is singularly accommodating to him; still we shall take the liberty of believing, that the Scotch do actually see some points of difference between love songs, marriage contracts, and privie letters, as the act describes them. It may be observed, that these important documents were secretly shown to Elizabeth~ s commissioners, who were satisfied of their authenticity by comparing them with speci- mens of the Queens hand-writing, furnished also by .Murray. When the conference was transferred to Westminster, the papers were again submitted to the English commissioners, after they had been sworn to secrecy; but this mysterious proceeding does not seem to have produced the effect desired. The bishop of Ross and Lord Herries repeatedly demanded to see the papers, said to have been written by their mistress; but this was denied; they then demanded copies, and pledged themselves to satisfy the commissioners from these alone, that the papers were forged ; this also was denied! and as their demand grew pressing, Murray was permitted to leave the trial on purpose to carry back the papers to Scotland, after which they were seen no more. Elizabeth informed Murray at the close of the trial, that she acquitted him of all charge against his loyalty ; and on the other hand, declared that nothing was proved against Queen Mary. rJ7hat this was a voluntary declaration on her part, all her subsequent treatment of Mary authorizes us to question. It appears from a letter of the Spanish ambassador to his King, that the English lords displayed some spirit on the occasion, and checked the ~varmth with which Cecil was hurrying on the fate of Mary. Certain it is, that many of the first nobility treated her as guiltless after the result of these proceedings, and it is well known, that a great proportion of the best and noblest of her Scotch subjects placed no faith in the evidence adduced against her. And how could it be otherwise? Though the forms of law may vary in different ages, human nature remains the same; and the suspicious form of this testimony,the interest which those who produced it had in convicting the Queen, together with the underhand manner in which they brought it forward, all excited doubts, which their reputation for stratagem served rather to confirm than to do away. It seems, then, that these celebrated letters first made their appearance in the hands of Morton, Marys bitterest foe. No attempt is made to authenticate them, They are said to have 156 .Mary Queen of SCOtS. [Jan. been produced to a council, all of whom were enemies of the Queen. It does not appear that they were shown to the Scotch parliament at all. When they are produced at the conference in England, it becomes necessary to give some ac- count of the manner in which they were obtained; but the account given is confirmed by no evidence, excepting that of Morton, though Bothwells servant, from whom they were said to be taken, was long in Mortons power. At the conference in York, these letters, with additional papers never heard of before, are produced to the commissioners hostile to Mary, but strictly withheld from all her friends. When the conference is adjourned to Westminster, it is found necessary to produce them in public; Murray accordingly produces them, with copies which he has prepared, requiring that the copies shall be compared with the originals on the spot, and the originals immediately restored to him. All this is done by the enemies of Mary. Her friends repeatedly demand permission to see the originals; this being refused, they request to see the copies; but this is also denied them, and Murray receives leave from the council to return to Scotland, with the papers, which never are seen again, and never from first to last are allowed to come under the eye of any one, who is interested or willing to show that they were forged. Hume says, that Murray gave Mary an opportunity of exposing him by produc- ing the letters, and a few pages after, says, that Elizabeth finally refused copies to Mary. It is certain, that these things made an impression on the commissioners; for they agreed that Mary had a right to appear before Elizabeth as she desired, a request which Elizabeth refused; and from the record of their proceedings, as it has come down to us altered and interlined by the hand of Cecil, it is evident that they could not be brought to give a verdict against the Scottish Queen. Some time afterwards, Elizabeth directed that the copies which Mur- ray had left with Cecil, should be published; which was done in Buchanans Detection. In a letter to Walsingham, the ambassador in France, Cecil requests him to circulate copies of the work there, adding these expressive words, they will serve to good effect to disgrace her; which must be done be- fore other purposes can be attained. The internal evidence against these letters is equally con- vincing. It has been already seen, how mysteriously they were withheld from all Marys friends, till they were at length 1832.] Mary queen of Scots. 157 published by order of Elizabeth. If written by Mary, they would be in the French language, and in French they accord- ingly appear. But still they are guarded against examination; for the editor does not pretend that they are the original French, but mere translations from a former Latin translation. The original French never appeared, and indeed never seems to have existed, for Murray himself first speaks of them as written in Scotch, which they certainly would i~ot have been, if written by Mary. This filtration through so many different languages, seems like an attempt to obliterate all those pecu- liarities of style, on which internal evidence so much depends. Such documents would hardly be admitted as evidence in any modern court of law. Again; these letters were at first dated. The two first are said to have been written on the 23d and 24th of January, and to have been answered by Bothwell on the 24th and 25th, the last answer being written by him after dinner. Now Murrays Diary, which has come down to us, mentions that Bothwell left Edinburgh to go into Liddesdale on the night of the 24th, and did not return till the 28th. Mr. Laing, who is great in solving difficulties, proposes to consider this as a mistake in the Diary; but we fear that the mistake is in a different quarter. Hume and Robertson both exhort their readers to place little dependence upon dates, and it will be seen that the lords were afterwards of their opinion. Mary is represented as writing two of the let- ters, on the night that she remained at the house where her husband was murdered; and yet Bothwell had just left her, he was no farther distant than Holyrood house,she would of course see him in the morning,but the Queen sits up to write him letters of meaning or importance,which can serve no earthly purpose except to betray her guilty passion to the world, and sends a servant to wake him from his sleep and deliver them into his hands. Within the year before the con- ference in England, the lords had probably discovered that these dates would not answer,they might be examined too minutely; we accordingly learn from Camden and others, that the letters made their appearance in England without any date whatever; thus presenting the curious anomaly of letters un- sealed, undirected, unsubscribed, and undated,letters, which no one ever knew to be written or delivered,which might as well have been written to any one else as Bothwell, since he is only once mentioned jn them, and then in the third person, 158 Mary queen of Scots. [Jan. brought as the only evidence which was to fix the charge of adultery and murder upon a queen. Again; these letters are brought to prove that she was accessory to her husbands mur- der; if so, she must have known that Morton and Maitland, who were afterwards clearly convicted of that crime, were concerned in it; but the letters contain no intimation which can affect them. After a time, Maitland falls under the dis- pleasure of the other lords, and then, Pariss confession, which was taken after the quarrel, contains the first suggestion that Maitland was guilty. But if these letters were not written by Mary, it may be asked, by whom were they written? They were intended to throw the odium of her husbands death upon her; but if it appear that others, with whom she could have had no collu- sion, were the authors of the murder, it may be easily under- stood why they were interested to throw suspicions upon her; and if this kind of forgery were not an uncommon thing in that day, it ~vill not be thought incredible that they should have re- sorted o it. Darnley had made himself odious to the great lords of the court; he was vain, ignorant, and brutal, as all allow; when intoxicated, be had often insulted them; he had accused Murray of an attempt to assassinate him, and had re- quired Mary to dismiss Maitland from the court. They de- termined to remove him by some means or other. At first, they proposed a divorce to 1~iary, a plan devised at Craigmil- lar castle; but she would not listen to it, saying, that Daruley might reform. If she had wished to get rid of her husband, here the way xvns open, and certainly an easier one than shed- ding his blood; but she declined it so firmly, that the plan was necessarily abandoned. Huntley and Argyle related these facts, in order to show that Murray was the original proposer of the plan to remove Daruley; and since in his answer to them he does not deny it, we may reasonably presume that the charge was true. A divorce being out of the question, they suggested the project of assassination, it may seem shocking to us, that one should have dared to suggest such a thing to the other; but, when we remember how coolly they had proceeded to murder Rizzio, and how complacently, at a much later period, Cardinal de Retz speaks of his precious scheme for removing Mazarin, such things are no longer in- credible, however revolting. It appears that a bond was then drawn up by Sir James Balfour, which styled Darnley n young 1832.] .Alary Queen of Scots. 159 fool and tyrant, and bound the subscribers to remove him, each engaging to make the deed his own, by whomsoever it might be done. This is proved by the confession of Ormistow, since he was in the hands of those who had no wish to draw from him acknowledgements of this description ; and it is a singular fact, that Pariss confession, which is suspicious, so far as re- lates to Mary, because it was evidently made to propitiate Murray, who had him in his power,this very confession states, that Murray, instead of signing the bond like the rest, declared that he would neither help nor hinder ; so that he knew of the consJ)iracy agitated by his friends,did not reveal it,placed no obstacles in the way of its success, and only cared to keep himself out of danger. Mr. Hume thinks it enough to say, that Murray had nothing to gain by the death of Darnley,nothing truly, but the Regency of Scotland, with more than royal power. No one can believe that Mary was associated with such conspirators; and it is easily understood, why they should ar- range every thing in such a manner as to throw the odium on her, by way of removing it from themselves. No one denies that Mary loved her husband, and treated him with tenderness, whenever his violent and capricious temper would allow it; but it was known that he had treated her with such insolence as often to make her shed tears, and had actually insisted upon it, that Rizzio should be murdered in her presence, though there was every reason to believe, that her life and that of his unborn child would be the sacrifice. The public, knowing these things, could not believe in her continued kindness to him, though every thing shows that it was sincere, and they felt as if she was more interested than any other in removing such a person from the world. If, therefore, the lords could find any external evidence to fix the crime on her, they would be able to screen themselves, and it was apparently for this purpose that the letters were written. They may possibly have been letters originally addressed by her to Darnley, but it is more probable that they were forged. This was a com- mon practice at that day. Randolph, the agent of Elizabeth, is well known to have forged letters to advance the ally of Elizabeth, the Earl of Morton. Kirkaldy was imposed upon by a forged letter in the hands of Morton. Since, according to Camden, Maitland acknowledged to the English commis- sioners at York, that he had often forged the hand-writing of 160 Mary Queen of Scots. [Jan Mary, it is no breach of Christian charity to believe that he did it on this occasion, when his own safety was so deeply con- cerned. Scott openly speaks of the plot of the lords at Craig- millar to assassinate Darnley; we do not know how he can suppose that Mary could have conspired with them, or that if she had, they could never have brought one word of evidence against her, except the letters. If they did so conspire among themselves, and there is no doubt of it, it would seem to be clear that they were the murderers, and that it was to cover their own guilt, and favor their own ambition, that they ac- cused, imprisoned, and at last destroyed the Queen. It does seem to us, that those persons who engaged so heartily in the cold-blooded murder of Rizzio, were more likely than a ten- der and delicate woman, to engage in a new act of blood. If any one ask, what was the temptation to engage in the Craig- millar conspiracy, he is easily answered. Mary had made liberal grants of the crown property to Murray, Morton, Mait- land, Bothwell, and others; but the Scotch law gave her the power of revoking these grants at any time before she had reached the age of twenty-five. Darnley, who detested the lords, had already persuaded her to make a partial revocation; and as she was in her twenty-fifth year, there was no doubt that Darnley, had he lived, would have urged her to pass a general act of resumption, before her age deprived her of the power. Here was a great temptation; but we suspect that the character of the lords was such, that even a less one would have answered. Seventy years since, Dr. Johnson said, that the forgery of the letters was made so apparent, that they pro- bably never would be cited as evidence again; and we have no doubt that all future historians, following the example of Sir Walter Scott, will reject them, however convinced they may be that Mary was guilty. This distinguished writer, in a note on this subject, quotes with seeming approbation a remark of Hume, who, when he was told that a new defender of the Queen had appeared, asked, has he shown that she did not marry Bothwell? if not, he gives up the whole question. Mr. Hume, being satis- fied of Bothwells guilt himself, had no doubt of Marys being under the same conviction; and if she had married him, know- ing that he was her husbands murderer, although it would not prove her accessory to the murder, it would form a strong pre- sumption against her, we allow. But Mary had only known 1832.] JJlary Queen of Scots. 161 Bothwell as a loyal nobleman, faithful and interested in her service; and beside that the lords had proposed a divorce to her at Craigmillar, she knew the fancied interest they had in destroying the King, and how careless of blood they had shown themselves on another memorable occasion. If Mr. Hume could have shown, that Mary had reasons to believe Bothwell guilty, and to acquit the others, in her own mind, his remark would be just; but we think that the Queen had sufficient evi- dence for ascribing it to the real authors, who used Bothwell as an instrument, and for regarding her husbands death as part of a great conspiracy, of which she was to be, as it after- wards appeared that she was, the second victim. We think that there can be little doubt of Marys innocence of all accession to the murder of her husband. But next comes the question of her niarriage with Bothwell. Her enemies allege that this was her object, in all her previous proceedings, and offer it as the main proof of her guilt. Her defenders say, on the contrary, that it was the result of a con- spiracy which delivered her into the power of Bothwell in order to dishonor her name, and that she was so treated by him, as to make a quiet submission to her marriage the only course she could pursue. Bothwell, with a large body of horsemen, seized her person the question is, was this the result of collusion between them, or was it violence, offered against her will? The decision here must depend very much on the proofs of attachment she had previously given to Bothwell. So thought the lords, and for this reason so much stress was laid upon the sonnets and letters. If they were genuine, there was no doubt of her lawless passion; but we shall consider them as dis- credited, and all presumptions founded upon them as falling to the ground. Her enemies labored hard to show that she was unscrupulous in her attachments, and to prove this, Bu- chanan charged her with being the paramour of Rizzio: but even Robertson repels this accusation as an unnecessary slander, and Knox, who would have been too happy to confirm it were this l)OsSible, does not include it among his charges against the Queen. Scott declares that her fame was un- tainted with reproach, till her name was connected with Bothwells. The history of her connexion with him is there- fore very important. For many years he had enjoyed her regard, in consequence of his faithful services to her mother VOL. XXxIv.No. 74. 21 162 Jilary (~ueen of Scots. [Jan. and herself, and contemporary writers assure us that he was an equal favorite with the nation. In 1563, Mary imprisoned him for some conspiracy in which he was engaged. He after- wards went to France, but was ordered by Mary to return for trial, or be proclaimed an outlaw. He returned to stand his trial, hut as Murray his prosecutor came to court attended by five thousand men, he dared not appear, and was obliged to retreat to France; whence he did not return till Mary was married to Darnley. It is acknowledged on all sides, that Mary was passionately attached to Darnley till after his murder of Rizzio. Bothwell was married in the month preceding this murder to a young lady of rank and beauty, and Randolph assures us that at this time, Botbwell was open in his resistance to the Catholic tastes of the Queen. Previously to the Queens confinement, it is acknowledged that Bothwell had but little influence witfi her; and from July 19th, 1566, when her month of confinement ended, to the first of October in the same year, is the time in which Marys passion, according to her accusers, begun and grew till it ended in guilt. That a young mother should in so marvellously short a time form such an attach- ment, exceeds belief. And what is the evidence of it? XVe are told, that in the beginning of October, Bothwell xvent to Liddesdale, as keeper of that country, and was there acci- dentally wounded in the discharge of his duty. Here Marys l)assion xvas first manifested by her flying, as Robertson says, with all the impatience of a lover, to visit him at Hermitage castle. We know not what the Doctors ideas of a lovers impatience may have been, but the fact is, that Mary was in that neighborhood on the 8th of the month he was wounded on the 7th, and she flew, as the Doctor has it, on the 16th to see him, and returned the same day. Such are a great his- torians opinions concerning the impatience of love. It is said that Mary showered favors upon him but it does not appear that he was in any special favor till after Rizzios death, and the only favors conferred on him after that time, were a grant of crown-lands, and the castle and lordship of Dunbar. it has been seen, that Mary had extended the same kindness to many other lords. So far from his enjoying any peculiar favor, the contrary would rather appear to be the case; for he opposed the recall of Maitland from exile, and quarrelled with Murray on the~ subject in the presence of the Queen. This was in August; but Maitland was restored, and Bothwell was com 1832.] Jllary Queen of Scots. 163 pelled to surrender to him lands, which, after Maitlands exile, had fallen to his share. On the whole, without admitting the authenticity of the letters, there is not a shadow of pioog that Bothwell was even an object of her love. Buchanan indeed asserts it; but to assert is one thing, and to prove is another; and as his authority is so often quoted in this controversy, it may he ~vel1 to mention, that Cecil says Buchanan wrote not in his own name, but according to instructions to hym given by common conference of the Lords of the privy council of Scot- land ; by him onely for hys learning penned, but by them the matter ministred; and Camden assures us, that Buchanan on his death-bed wished he might live so long, till by recalling the truth, he might, even with his blood, wipe away those by hi aspersions, which he had s bad tongue, unjustly cast upon Mary. We should have mentioned, that Mary is accused of hurry- ing on the trial of Bothwell with indecent precipitation. All allow, that immediately after the murder, she conducted herself like an innocent woman; she offered a reward of two thousand pounds for the discovery of the murderers, and took the neces- sary steps to trace them. A placard was affixed at night to the Toibooth, charging Bothwell with the crime. Mary directed an answer to be made, stating, that if the author of the placard would appear and substantiate the charge, he should receive the reward. No one however appeared. Lennox, the father of Darnley, required that all who were charged in the various placards should be imprisoned ; but Mary very properly informed him, that she could not, without an abuse of pmver, imprison noblemen on the charge of anonymous writers. Len- miox then named the Earl of Bothwell and others; and though he professed that lie had no evidence against him, Mary ordered a trial, which was appointed by her privy council to be held on the 12th of April, 1567, and proclamations were made accordingly. It appears, that only twenty-four hours before the trial was to take place, Mary received a letter from Len- miox, requesting that Bothwell might be imprisoned, and the trial deferred, till he had collected his proofs and his friends. This would have been neither reasonable nor just; and the jury on the trial, composed of persons not particularly friendly to Bothwell, were obliged to acquit him. Those who are sat- isfied by the evidence of later times that Bothwell was the murderer, should reflect that this evidence was not then 164 Mary Queen of Scots. [Jan. brought to light, and the Queen had as much reason for sus- pecting any other of her great lords as Bothwell. It will be remembered, that at Craigmillar castle, the lords agreed to support the author of the murder, whoever might undertake it; they redeemed the pledge, and thus afford conclusive evidence of their accession to the crime. Killigrew tells us, that he dined xvith Bothwell at the Earl of Murrays, twenty days after he had been placarded ; and at his trial Bothwell appeared, supported by Morton and Lethington. This is all consistent with the supposition, since confirmed, that they were in the conspiracy, and goes equally far to prove the innocence of the Queen. So far, the whole proceeding seems like a plan on the part of the lords, to make use of Bothwell, a fearless and unprin- cipled man, as an instrument of their own ambition. Having once encouraged him to take the guilt of blood upon himself, it would have been in their power at any time to destroy him; and should he accuse them as accessory, it would be easy to ascribe the charge on his part to hatred and revenge. But as his ambition began to rise higher, and even to aim at royal authority, they saw that it would be also in their power to ruin the Queen by giving her up to the murderer, and making it appear that she was associated with him in his crimes. They knew and were able to prove Bothwells guilt; but it does not appear that Mary did know it, or had more reason to suspect him than others; indeed she had reason to believe him in.~ nocent, because his name was connected in the placards with her own, and if the charge against her were malicious, she might naturally infer that the accusation was preferred against him by the real conspirators, in order to cover their own guilt. Bothwell immediately began to play his desperate game of ambition. He sued for a divorce from his wife, and this also is matter of charge against Mary; but the veracious historians who mention this fact, forget to tell us that the lady herself, with every appearance of collusion, sued at the same time for a divorce from him; he, who was a Protestant, applying to a Catholic court, and she, who was a Catholic, applying to a Protestant tribunal ; both showing thereby their opinion of the easy virtue of the opposite religious party. The rebel journal states, that Lady Botliwell signed a procuratory for the purpose, on the 5th of April; the Queen was seized on the 24th, so that her step could hardly be owing, as they would have it 1832.] Mary ~ueeu of Scots. 165 appear, to his connexion with the Queen, and in fact the reasons alleged by her have no reference to Mary. The contemporary Memoirs of Crawford inform us, that Morton and Murray kindly interfered, and helped forward the business to a favor- able result; for which they doubtless had sufficient reasons. Here we have an instance of Robertsons consistency. Like a zealous Protestant, he tells us that in 1 566, Mary deprived the Protestant Court of Commissaries of all authority, by way of restoring the Catholic religion but in the next year, as we learn from him, Lady Bothwell prosecuted her suit in this very court, which was retained by Mary for her Protestant subjects, while the Catholics appeared before their own eccle.. siastical courts; the interests and feelings of both being properly consulted. The lords foresaw, that the design of Bothwell to secure the hand of the Queen might be easily turned to their own purposes; and, witl]out the least regard for honor or con~ science, they aided him in his designs upon her person, in order to effect the ruin of both. The clear evidence of this is found in the famous bond of Aiuslies Supper. Bothwell invited the principal members of Parliament to meet him at Ainslies tavern, where he was to give them an entertaiument. He then made known to them his design to marry the Queen, and proposed to them to subscribe a bond, which declared him free of all suspicion relating to the murder, and recommended him as a suitable match for her; the subscribers agreeing to advance the said marriage, by all the exertions and sacrifices in their power. Every thing about the transaction shows, as even Scott acknowledges, that the lords were prepared for this. Morton and Maitland of Lethington were present and subscribed the instrument; and their example was followed by eight bishops, nine earls, and seven lords. From the nature of the case, there could have been no compulsion. The.~Earl of Eglin- toune, the only one who declined subscribing, withdrew with- out molestation. The rest were probably engaged in the party either of Botbwell or the lords, who each believed that they were taking advantage of the other. It will be seen, that both l)arties had an interest in representing the match as acceptable to the Queen; Bothwell, in order to excuse his own presump- tion, and the lords in order to involve her in the guilt of Both- well, which they intended to prove as soon as he was con- nected with her by popular opinion, in such a manner that the blow aimed at him should be death to her reputation. It is 166 Mary Queen of Scots. [Jan. impossible to take any view of this transaction, which xviii not exhibit these noblemen in the most disgraceful light ; and when it is considered that some of them were the worst enemies of the Queen, it is easy to discover their design in encouraging Bothwell at the expense of their oxvn honor. Having thus, as he thought, prepared the way, he determined to seize her person,a plan winch was perfectly consistent with the habits of the age and country. We see no reason to doubt the account which Mary herself gives,that he endeav- ored by humble attentions to win her favor, but finding no success, determined to resort to violent measures. Assembling one thousand horse, under the pretext of border service, he met the Queen as she was coming from Stirling, and seizing the bridle of her horse, made himself master of her person, and suffered most of her attendants to go free. The author of Crawfords Memoirs says, his men took the Earl of Huntly, Secretary Liddington, and me, and carried us captives to Dunbar; all the rest were permitted to go. There the Earl of Bothwell boasted he would marry the Queen, who would or who would not; yea, whether she would herself or no. The next day, this writer was allowed to go home. Mary herself says, that finding herself in his power, without any one to advise or aid her, and no attempt being made to rescue her fron] his hands, she reproached him with his ingratitude and baseness. He humbly protested, that he was driven to the act by his passion for her, and his apprehensions for his own life. Finding that he made no favorable impression, he produced the bond signed at Ainslies supper. This showed her how little aid she xvas to expect from those who held the power of the kingdom in their hands, and she felt that she was given up to him as a prey. From the time of her capture, April 24, to the 3d of May, he remained constantly with her, pressing his suit by all the arguments in his power. The rebel journal, an authority most unfriendly to her, says, she was by fear, force, and (as by many conjectures may he well suspected) other extraordinary and more unlawful means compelled, & c. Melvill says, the Queen could not but marry him, seeing he bad ravished her. The rebel journal says, he had in three months found such hap in an unhappy enterprise, that by the murder of the babes father, he had purchased a pretended marriage of the mother, seized her person in his hands, en- vironed with a continual guard of two hundred harquebusiers 1832.] Mary queen of Scots. 167 as well day as night. As Scott remarks, not a spear was lifted, not a sword was drawn, to save Mary from the power of that atrocious ruffian. Well might he add, that strong sus- picions arose, that Morton, Lethington, and others of Marys counsellors ~vere treacherously and ungratefully concerned in a plot, which was at once to destroy their sovereigns fame and power. They did all in their power to force her into this ill-omened marriage, quieting the people by representing her as guilty, and confirming her guilt by pointing to these very circumstances, into which she was thrown by their connivance and agency, in favor of one whom they knew to be a murderer. Those who suppose that this seizure was the result of a conspiracy with Mary, are hound to show what temptation she had to engage in a plan, which would have carried deception on the face of it, supposing her to have been guilty. Mr. Laing and others say, it was to justify her precipitate marriage. But where was the inducement, on her part, to hasten the marriage? According to their own account, marriage could give nothing to her more than she possessed already. They tell us, that Bothwell and Mary were living in open adultery; that Both- well had unbounded power in the State, and they can point out nothing that the Queen could have expected from such a sudden connexion; while, on the contrary, it would seem as a public acknowledgement of her shame, and her enemies took care so to represent it. One remarkable circumstance must be carefully observed. The letters and sonnets, as we have said, are the only proof of Marys previous attachment to Bothwell. It so happens, that in one of the sonnets, she says, that she shed many tears, when he made himself possessor of this body, of which he had not then the heart. If these sonnets were genuine, then they afford conclusive evidence in this passage,the only one in which direct reference is made to Bothwell,that there was no attachment before the mar- riage; for it must be remembered, that the sonnets were not written by her to mislead the public, but, as her enemies repre- sent, were kept secret as the grave. If the sonnets were forged, as they doubtless were, this passage was introduced in order to help forward a charge against Both~vell, on which he was afterwards convicted, of seizing the person of the Queen. It is impossible to preserve consistency in misrepresentation; and, when the enemies of Bothwell first ruin him by this charge against him, and afterwards dishonor the Queen by charging 168 .Mary Qeen of Scots. [Jan. her with throwing herself into his arms, it is evident enough that both accusations cannot be true. One of the proclamations issued by the lords, with Morton at their head, begins thus: The lords of secret council and nobility, understanding that James, Earl of Bothwell, put vio- lent hands on our sovereign ladys most noble person on the 24th of April last, and thereafter warded her highness in the castle of Dunbar, which he had in keeping, and before a long space thereafter, conveyed hei majesty, environed with men of war, and such friends and kinsmen of his own as would do for him, ever into places where he had most dominion and power, her grace being destitute of all counsel and servants, during which time the said Earl seduced, by unlawful means, our said sovereign to a dishonest marriage with himself; which from the beginning is null and of no effect. The proclamation was closed with a resolution to bring Bothwell to punishment, for ravishing and detaining the Queens person. Mary was already in their hands, but they had not yet ventured on the bold step of destroying her; when that was resolved upon, the charge against her appears for the first time, according to the practice of that day, which seems to have been to manu- facture charges and proofs, only as fast as they were wanted. The act of forfeiture against Bothwell, is the testimony of the lords themselves to the Queens innocence. After the Kings advocate had laid before Parliament his proofs to sustain the indictment, he was adjudged guilty by the three estates, for treasonably and violently arresting the Queens person on the high road ; for carrying her forcibly the same night to Dunbar castle, and therein detaining her by violence for the space of twelve days, and by force and fear compelling her to agree to marry him. if the accusation against the Queen had been thought of at this time, it would certainly have been brought forward ; they had nothing to fear,she was in their hands and in their power; but they probably never thought of accus- ing her, till their ambition, encouraged by success, led them to conspire to deprive her of her crown. The whole conduct of Mary after the marriage, shows that it was not the result of affection on either part. He kept her under constant guard, and showed by his treatment that he had no hold upon her heart. Melvill tells us, that he insulted her in such a manner before her attendants one day, that she called for a knife to despatch herself with; and declared, that if this 1832.] Mary queen of Scots. 169 resort was denied her, she would find some means to destroy her wretched life. The lords themselves, in a memorial to Throgmorton, state, that she could not have lived with him half a year. Melvill describes her appearance at Carherry-hill on the 15th of June. Many of those who were with her, were of opinion, that she had intelligence with the lords, then in arms and facing her, especially such as were informed of the many indignities put upon her by the Earl of Bothwell since their marriage. He was so beastly and suspicious, that he suffered her not to pass one day in patience, without making her shed abundance of tears. It is strange, that in the short space of a month, their passion, supposing it to have existed, should have been changed into aversion. It seems clear, that no attach- ment ever existed; but that Bothwell forced her to marry him in order to exalt himself, and that she yielded only when she found herself abandoned by all, dishonored in person, and given over to him by a confederacy of the nobles of her king- dom. The minister who published the banns, declared that he detested the marriage, but that the best part of the realm approved it, either by flattery or silence. Her conduct at Carberry-hill confirms what we have said. Mary was not the person to abandon one whom she had ever loved; but she invited one of the rebel officers to a parley, agreed with him to order Bothwell away, and sent the officer himself with the order. Bothwell went away, and no farewell passed between them, though their parting was the last. She then gave the officer her hand to kiss, and suffered him to lead her horse by the bridle over to the insurgent party. This officer was the celebrated Kirkaldy of Grange, who pledged the loyalty of his party to Mary, on condition of her dismissing Bothwell. Finding that they were disposed to treat the Queen with indig- nity, he resented it as an affront to his honor; but in order to silence his scruples, Morton produced a pretended letter from Mary to Bothwell, in which she promised to meet him again. The forgery produced its effect on the unsuspecting soldier; but after it had served the purpose of the moment, could never be seen nor heard of again. Sir William Kirkaldy was the Bayard of the age,almost a solitary example in Scotland, of chivalrous generosity and honor. He was probably convinced by his own observation, that the Queen was the victim of unprincipled men. Certain it is, that he embraced her party when her fortunes seemed most desperate, fought gallantly in VOL. XxXIV.NO. 74. 22 170 .lIiary Queen of Scots. [Jan. her defence, and when taken by the English, and by Elizabeths or(lers basely delivered over to Morton, died on the scaffold with a resolution worthy of his fame. It seems to us, that nothing but Marys aversion to the con- nexion with Bothwell could have made it nec.essary for him to seize her person. Had she been willing to marry him, the way was open. The first nobility of her kingdom had declared him innocent, and recommended him as her husband. Daraley was regretted by no man, and for all that appears, she might have formed this new connexion without a word of resistance or reproach. If her accusers say, that a sense of shame pre- vented it, they should remember, that their object is to prove that she was dead to shame; that she was already connected with Bothwell in an infamous manner, and that she was con- tinually publishing her own dishonor by showering honors on his head. Now if Mary were such as they represent her, it seems perfectly incredible, that she should resort to an awkward stratagem, when nothing in the world required it. By pursuing the course which the lords had opened for her, her character would have been much less hazarded. They all confess, that she was a woman of admirable talent and address, and surely such a person would not have resorted to what they term a poor trick, when it was wholly uncalled for. A little attention to the proceedings of the Scottish lords from the beginning, will strengthen the presuml)tion, that the difficulties in which Mary was involved, were owing to their conspiracies and crimes. When she first returned from France, they determined to resist her power from motives of interest and ambition, and were constantly encouraged in their resist- ance by the unprincipled policy of Elizabeth and her advisers. When she determined to marry Darnley, foreseeing that this connexion would put a stop to Marys unbounded liberality, they combined to prevent it; and Murray arranged a plot, as was stated by Argyle, one of their number, to murder Daraley and his father, imprison Mary in Lochleven, and give to him- self the power which he afterwards attained and always had in view. Marys energy defeated their purpose, and they consoled themselves by signing a bond, in which they engaged to effect their object, at the same time requiring Elizabeth to give the aid which she had promised them. This conspiracy, attested by Melvill and Argyle himself, a rebel lord, throws abundant light on all the rest of their proceedings. Elizabeth 1832.] Mary Queen of Scots. 171 gave the aid which she promised ; but Mary marched against them with an army of eighteen thousand men, and drove them out of the country. Murray hastened to London, where he fell on his knees before Elizabeth, in presence of the French and Spanish ambassadors, and declared that the English Queen had never encouraged the rebellion against Mary. After driving him from her presence with contempt, she rewdrded his meanness by a paltry allowance for his support. Such was the beginning of their attempts to ruin Mary. There were several lords engaged in this enterprise, who had not committed themselves so far as to be obliged to leave the kingdom. Among these were Morton, Maitland of Leth- ington, Lindsay, and Ruthven. Finding Darnley discontented with Mary, who sometimes checked his brutal excesses, they induced him to make common cause ~vith them. In Rizzio, Mary had a shrewd and friendly adviser, whose sagacity and influence they leared. They attempted to excite Darnlcys jealousy against him, and succeeded, though all historians now allow, that the charge is oue which could not possibly be true. These precious associates hound themselves to murder him and sevemal others, each stipulating for a palt of the spoil, which they doubted not would soon fall to their share. Rizzio, as is well known, was murdered under circumstances of atrocious cruelty, both to him and to the Queen. Murray and Argyle left England as soon as they heard of it; but Marys loyal subjects sustained her in such a manner, that Darnley was compelled to disavow all connexion with the murderers, and they fled from Scotland. The lords considered the murder of Rizzio as a service done to Darnley; and since, instead of protecting them accord- ing to the bond, he had acquiesced in the measures against them, they determined to have their revenge, both on him and Mary. As Murray and his associates were not then known to have been concerned in this last affront to her person, Mary generously forgave him, when she banished Morton and his companions, requiring him at the same time to renounce all connexion with the latter. Murray joyfully acceded to this, and this kindness on the part of Mary was, as might have beemi expected, repaid after the manner of the viper; it was the cause of her future woe. At the time of Murrays flight, the Earl of Bothwell was his enemy, and of course rose as he fell. Bothwell is described 172 Mary Queen of Scots. [Jan. by Buchanan, as remarkably unattractive in person and man- ners; and if so, he was not the most likely man to fascinate the Queen. But he had always been loyal, and at the time of Rizzios murder, had made an ineffectual attempt to oppose the assassins. As he had much desperate courage, with very little intellect and no principle, his personal qualifications, together with his interest with the Queen, pointed him out to the lords as a suitable instrument of their designs; and by promising that his reward should be the hand of Mary, they engaged him to murder her husband. Scott says, Maitland, Huntley, Argyle, Bothwell, and others, were accessory to these dark consultations, and we cannot suppose Murray wholly igno- rant of them. The fact of the conspiracy of the lords to murder Darnley, is now well known; and it is perfect evidence of Marys innocence of this crime; for that she conspired with such associates, no one will pretend. They took advantage of that facility of disposition, which was her ruin; and, during the festivities at the christening of her son, prevailed on her to consent to the recall of Morton. The plan of divorce, which would have released her without difficulty from her worthless husband, she firmly rejected; they were compelled, therefore, to resort to blood. Pariss confession, which the enemies of Mary rely much upon, states, that Murray knew the plan, and declared, that he would neither help nor hinder. Morton con- fessed at his trial, that he was acquainted with the design, but refused to take part, unless by authority from the Queen, which Bothwell could not obtain; he, however, was fully proved guilty. We do not see how it is possible to maintain, that Mary was connected in a conspiracy with such persons, who were afterwards her accusers, and yet were never able to bring one particle of direct evidence against her. It seems clear to us, that the charge could not possibly be true. What was the conduct of these lords after the murder, when suspicion, directed probably by themselves, began to fix itself upon Bothwell? He was present at Murrays entertainments, and at the very trial which they afterwards coodemned as so lawless a proceeding, he was attended by Maitland and Morton as friends. No one believes that they did this from friendship for Bothwell. They unquestionably had a design of their own, which was to help him forward in his career, till he was con- nected with the Queen in such a manner, that by ruining him, which was at any time in their power, they might involve het~ 1832.] Mary Queen of Scots. 173 in the same destruction. But the single circumstance of their consenting to second a villain and murderer, whose guilt they confess that they were fully acquainted with, is enough to cover them with disgrace; and assuredly we should hesitate before we credit charges advanced and sustained by such accusers, especially when they pretend to be actuated by a zeal for good morals and reformed religion. Nor was this the only suspicious and dishonorable circum- stance in their conduct. When Bothwell demands the price of his guilt, and finds that he has no interest in Marys affec- tions, they sign an instrument, in which they acquit him of all charge and suspicion, and recommend him as her husband. The chivalrous Lord Herries lifts up his voice against it, but not one of these lords joins him, though they after~vards profess to be so much shocked and disgusted at the proceeding. One word from them would have arrested Bothwell, as it afier~vards did, when he was in greater power; hut the time to speak that word was not yet come. They give her up to him, on pur- pose to be dishonored, and when they think that her hold upon the respect and affection of her subjects is lost, they turn upon Bothwell, charge him with treason for acting in accord- ance with their own recommendation, and for marrying the person whom they had placed in his hands. Till he is ruined, they profess the utmost attachment to Mary; they never inti- mate that her fair fame is darkened by a shadow of suspicion; and they declare, that Bothwell, for forcing her to a marriage by extraordinary and unlawful means, the nature of which is darkly hinted, is a traitor, and that they will pursue him to the death. Let it he observed, that when Mary meets them in arms at Carberry-hill, and agrees so cheerfully to their own terms, they never ask that Bothwell shall be secured; they request her to send him away. The reason is obvious; they knew that if he were seized, he might bring out evidence enough against themselves; they therefore give him an oppor~ tunity to escape from the country,a course which they would not have pursued, if they had known themselves innocent, and desired to punish him simply for his guilt. When Bothwell is thus disposed of, the time for Marys ruin is come. They send assurances of respect and loyalty to her by an honorable soldier, and as soon as she trusts their honor, and puts herself in their power, they treat her as a prisoner, tmd throw her into Lochleven castle. In the face of theh 174 .711ary Queen of Scots. [Jan. previous declarations, they now declare, that so far from being forced into a marriage with Bothwell, it had been the object nearest her heart. rfo effect it, she had murdered her former husband ; and the seizure of her person, for which they had just declared Bothwell an outlaw, was no violence, but a strata- gem planned by herself, to cover her impatience to unite her- self with her lover. This is an acknowledgement that their charge against Bothwell was untrue. How they sustain the charge against Mary, we have already seen. Taking into view the whole course of their conduct, as successive disclosures have now [nade it manifest to the world, it is difficult to doubt, that they had marked out a purpose for themselves from the beginning, which they pursued with an unscrupulous and un- relenting zeal. They place Mary in a prison, where she shall be most expose(l to insult and privation; there they torture her into an abdication of her crown ; her illegitimate brother, Murray, who owes all to her generosity, rises upon her ruin, and becomes Regent of the realm; some time after his death, his power devolves on the Earl of Morton. Such was their object, and the means by which it was accomplished. In order to ensure it, Mary was driven to England, to languish in prisons, and at last to be murdered under the forms of law; but her enemies, who, even supposing her guilty, were certainly profli- gate and hypocritical men, did not escape their share of retri- bution. Murray was shot by a man who had been injured by one of his favorites; Morton was tried and executed for the murder of Darnley; and Maitland escaped the scaffold by putting an etid to his own existence. We certainly consider Mary as their victim; but we are confident, that when heredi- tary prejudices have passed away, the impartial voice of history will pronounce her not guilty. The fate of Bothwell was such as his crimes deserved. He fled to the Orkneys, and after a short time was taken by the Danes, and imprisoned in consequence of some alleged pirati- cal attempts against their trade. A curious manuscript, found in the royal library at Dr~ttningliolm in Sweden, has lately been translated and sent to England, authenticated in a man- ner, which places it beyond suspicion. It appears, that in 1 568, the Chevalier de Dantzay was residing in the north, as ambassador from France to Sweden and Denmark. During his residence at Copenhagen, the Earl of Bothwell arrived. Lie had fled with his followers in several vessels from Scotland, I 832.] Mary queen of Scots. 175 and being unable to land, and driven about by contrary winds, had been thrown on the coast of Norway, and there taken by Danish seamen, who carried him to their own country. While in prison there, he sent a memorial to M. de Dantzay, who took the requisite steps in his behalf. This memorial is only valuable, as showing how so notorious an offender proceeds in his attempts at self-justification, lie attributes all his OWfl misfortunes to the agency and coalitions of Murray; and, in fact, it is evident enough that Murray opposed the Queens marriage, in the hope of being her successor; and that when this hope was destroyed by the birth of a prince, his ambition contented itself with the reality without the name of royal power. He also says, what no one doubts, that the troubles in Scotland were principally owing to English machinations. He declares, that Mary imprisoned him shortly after her re- turn from France, in consequence of false charges brought against him by Murray; but he did not consider it evidence of oppression on her part, because there never was a time after her return from France, when she had any thing more than the shadow of power. He also mentions, that at the time of Rizzios murder, he was himself marked out in the instrument signed by Darnley and the lords, for a similar fate; and here he is supported by other testimony, from which it appears; that Bothwell, Huntley, and four others, were to have been assassinated at the same time. He says, that the way in which they escaped, after offering an ineffectual resistance, was by leaping from a window at the back of the building. Thus far, his narrative is consistent with other evidence, and is, probably, true; but from the time of his coalition with the lords, he finds it impossible to give any clear account of his conduct, and, therefore, passes lightly over all subsequent transactions. He says, that when the lords determined to murder Darnley, they endeavored to make him their friend, in order to destroy him more effectually, and he confesses, that he did intercede with the Queen for their restoration to favor; but he declares that he acted without any interested motive, and solely from his natural good feeling. After the murder, they endeavored by reports and placards to fix the guilt upon him. When he had been fully acquitted by the Parliament, they offered to promote his marriage with the Queen. He says nothing of the seizure of her person. He says that the Queen did not send word to him to retire from the field at 176 Mary Queen of Scots. [Jan. Carberry-hill, till she was already secured in the hands of the rebels by false professions, which he advised her to distrust; on the whole, it would seem that he tells the story correctly enough, with the exception of his own part in the various transactions. Probably he knew that all deceivers must insert as large a measure of truth as possible, in order to give a coloring of probability to the falsehood. Having thus represented the facts bearing on this question, as fairly as we are able, we must remind our readers, that if they should not he satisfied with Marys marriage with Both- well, it will by no means follow, that she was guilty of her husbands death. If that thorough-going villain did actually gain a place in her affections, (and we see no proof of it) it seems impossible, considering the persons with whom he is now known to have been connected, that Mary should have had any share in that atrocious crime. We think that all her reproach and sorrow were owing to a base conspiracy to de- stroy her life and power, which Cecil himself confesses could not be done without dishonoring her fame. She was a woman of extraordinary talents, no douht; but she was cast at once without preparation, into the midst of a sea of troubles, and Shakspeares beautiful allusion, in which he represents the rude waves as growing civil at her song, has no more founda- tion in fact, than the compliments which he pays to the vestal fame of Elizabeth. The whole conduct of the Queen of England with respect to Mary, cannot be regarded by any good mind without abhorrence. In the first place, she abused the power which accident gave her over a rival, in circumstances where, if she had had one spark of generosity or common prin- ciple, she would have given her countenance and protection; instead of this, she kept her in close confinement, and with, necessity, the tyrants plea, excused her devilish deeds. All the luxuries of life were taken from her one by one, and at last, she was in want of those comforts, which the state of her health rendered necessary. It was doubtless thought, that this treatment would destroy her, but as her miserable exist- ence was still prolonged, Elizabeth, in a letter which is pre- served, desired her keepers, Paulet and Drury, to murder their prisoner, and complained of them for not having done it be- fore. Assassination is not to the taste of Englishmen, and slavish as they were in other respects, they declared that they would not be induced by any consideration, to take the guilt 1832.] Mary queen of Scots. 177 of blood upon their souls. She then orders Davidson, the secretary, to forward the warrant for iVIarys execution; and the moment it is done past recall, declares, with much affected sorrow, that it was done in defiance of her orders, and ruins the secretary for his obedience to her command. It was, however, the only act of kindness she had ever done to Nary, who, though accused of living in adultery and murder, died with the gentle, sweet, and hoiy firmness of a martyr, rejoicing to go and appeal to that tribunal, where sovereigns and subjects are equal,before the King of kings. We have made no reference to Mr. Bells Life of Mary, because we have made little use of it in our examination of this question. His limits as a popular writer, did not allow him to dwell at great length on this part of her history. His work is a pleasant narrative, and well calculated for general use in this day, when it is become so common to expand a little matter into two octavo volumes, that readers have been almost in despair. He takes a favorable view of Marys character; hut seems free from prejudice either for her or against her. In one respect, his candor is excessive, in our opinion; he seems to think, that the advocates of the Queen have injured her cause by their severe treatment of Murray. It was certainly deserved; for whether Mary were innocent or guilty, his conduct to a sister, who had treated him with tin- wearied kindness, and loaded him with favors and distinc- tions, was ungrateful in the extreme; it is folly to attempt to defend it. Whatever his traditional reputation in Scotland may be, it will not be easy to persuade the world, that, when the result of all the conspiracies of the day was to advance his power, he himself was ignorant of them; that others, who had every thing to lose, were committing every kind of crime for his benefit, while he himself, who had every thing to gain, was unconscious of their guilt. With this exception, we can recoin- mend Mr. Bells work to our readers; and we believe that the statement he gives of the transactions of that day is substan- tially just. VOL. xxxlV.No. 74. 23 178 The Two Conventions. [Jan. ART. VIII.The Two Conventions. 1. ./Iddress to the People of the United States, by a Con- vention of Delegates fro?n several Parts of the Union, as- sembled at Philadelphia. 1831. 2. .dddress of the Friends of Domestic industry, assembled in Convention at New York, October 31, 1831, to the People of the United States. Baltimore. 1831. 3. d Letter to Colonel William Drayton, of South Caro- lina, in assertion of the Constitutional Power of Con- gress to impose Protecting Duties. By GIJtAAN C. VER- PLANCK, one of the Representatives in Congress from the State of New York. New York. 1831. 4. ./Iddress Delivered before the .~1merican Institute of the City of New York, at their Fourth linnual Fair, Octo- ber 14, 1831. By EDWARD EVERETT. New York. 1831. There is much in the political history of the United States, from the first formation of the Government up to the present day, of an entirely novel, and at the same time highly gratify- ing character. If we are not mistaken, the proceedings that have recently taken place in reference to the economical policy of the country, will be regarded as belonging to this class. The approaching extinction of the public debt, which will render it practicable to effect a considerable reduction in the revenue, has naturally called the attention of the people to the form, in which this reduction may best be made; and the varieties of opinion and feeling which prevail on this subject in different parts of the country, have given to the discussion a degree of interest, which it might not otherwise have pos- sessed. Under these circumstances, it would have been natu- ral enough to expect, that the partisans of the two leading opinions would have exhibited a good deal of intemperance, and, perhaps, have resorted to the corrupt or violent measures, which are elsewhere so frequently employed for the attain- ment of political objects. We are able to say, however, and we say it with satisfaction and patriotic pride, that the question has, thus far at least, been argued, for the most part, on both sides, with a gravity and good temper entirely suited to its im- portance, and highly honorable to the American character. For the purpose of presenting their respective views to the

178 The Two Conventions. [Jan. ART. VIII.The Two Conventions. 1. ./Iddress to the People of the United States, by a Con- vention of Delegates fro?n several Parts of the Union, as- sembled at Philadelphia. 1831. 2. .dddress of the Friends of Domestic industry, assembled in Convention at New York, October 31, 1831, to the People of the United States. Baltimore. 1831. 3. d Letter to Colonel William Drayton, of South Caro- lina, in assertion of the Constitutional Power of Con- gress to impose Protecting Duties. By GIJtAAN C. VER- PLANCK, one of the Representatives in Congress from the State of New York. New York. 1831. 4. ./Iddress Delivered before the .~1merican Institute of the City of New York, at their Fourth linnual Fair, Octo- ber 14, 1831. By EDWARD EVERETT. New York. 1831. There is much in the political history of the United States, from the first formation of the Government up to the present day, of an entirely novel, and at the same time highly gratify- ing character. If we are not mistaken, the proceedings that have recently taken place in reference to the economical policy of the country, will be regarded as belonging to this class. The approaching extinction of the public debt, which will render it practicable to effect a considerable reduction in the revenue, has naturally called the attention of the people to the form, in which this reduction may best be made; and the varieties of opinion and feeling which prevail on this subject in different parts of the country, have given to the discussion a degree of interest, which it might not otherwise have pos- sessed. Under these circumstances, it would have been natu- ral enough to expect, that the partisans of the two leading opinions would have exhibited a good deal of intemperance, and, perhaps, have resorted to the corrupt or violent measures, which are elsewhere so frequently employed for the attain- ment of political objects. We are able to say, however, and we say it with satisfaction and patriotic pride, that the question has, thus far at least, been argued, for the most part, on both sides, with a gravity and good temper entirely suited to its im- portance, and highly honorable to the American character. For the purpose of presenting their respective views to the 183~2.] Tue Two Conventions. 179 consideration of Congress and the People in a distinct and authoritative form, the friends and opponents of the protec- tion of domestic industry have respectively assembled in Con- vention by their delegates, including, in both cases, many citizens of the higbest eminence for character and talent, and composed, in general, of the best informed and most intelligent members of the community. The Philadelphia Convention, which represented the interests that support the character of plaintiffs in this great l)olitical cause, published an address to the People, setting forth the nature and extent of their sup- posed grievances. To this declaration, a powerful plea has been put in by the New York Convention, and the case has thus been fsirly opened before the country. Arrangements have heen made on both sides for presenting to Congress, during the approaching session, a memorial and a counter- memorial, respectively affirming and contesting the conclusions of the two addresses. Measures were also taken by the New York Convention, for spreading before the People in the form of reports from various committees, as full and distinct an account as could be procured of the present state of our do- mestic industry in all its branches, and of the manner in which it is affected by the protecting policy. Where the discussion is left by the two memorials, it will be taken up by the mem- bers of Congress, who will express their opinions on the sub ject, and the case having thus been argued in a more solemn and imposing form, than, perhaps, any other of the same des- cription ever was before, will be finally submitted to the con- sideration of the People,---the jury, which, in this country, decides in the last resort, through the ballot~.boxes, upon every question of law or fact which comes up in the administration of the Government. These proceedings have thus far been marked, at every stage, and in every important particular, with a decorum and propriety, in the highest degree creditable to the individuals immediately concerned in them, and to the character of the country. The two Conventions were composed and organ- ized, with a fi~ted determination on both sides, to keep them entirely free from any connexion with the local and personal politics of the day. Although the Philadelphia Convention was made up for the most part of delegates from States, which support the present administration of the General government, some of the most active and conspicuous mem 180 The Two Conventions. [Jan. bers were from other quarters of the Union, and of opposite parties. The address was drafted by a gentleman, who had been just before drawn by circumstances into very direct collision with the President of the United States. The New York Convention, on the other hand, consisting to a consider- able extent, of opponents to the administration of the General Government, placed one of its warm adherents at their head as President, and employed others on their principal com- mittees. Pains were taken in both to repress all unsuitable demonstrations of feeling, to avoid the wasting of time in tedious and unprofitable debates, and to give a practical, business-like character to the proceedings. The result, with some trifling exceptions, corresponded remarkably well in both cases with these intentions, and without disparagement to the wisdom and talent habitually displayed in the great council of the nation, we think that even that august body might derive some useful lessons, in regard to the manner of trans- acting business, from the doings of these two assemblies. Spontaneous meetings of this description have been frequent in this country at every period of its history. It was justly remarked at the close of the New York address, that such Conventions originated our glorious Revolution and our ad- mirable Constitution. The holding of these two assemhlies was, therefore, a measure entirely in accordance with the genius of our Government, and with the previous usages and habits of the people. We are inclined to think that they will be reckoned hereafter among the most interesting and memo- rable meetings of the kind, and that their general effect will be decidedly good. However sectional or personal views and interests may,as they always must to a considerable ex- tent,affect the course of political affairs, it is next to im.~ possible, that a discussion, conducted in this grave and dignified manner, with a deliberation which gives the people opportunity for mature reflection at every stage of the process, should not greatly enlighten the public tuind, and tend ultimately to the promotion of the real interests of the country. We are strongly disposed to believe, as we sincerely hope, that the decision to which the people may come after so long, so dis-. passionate, and so anxious an examination of the subject, will be universally satisfactory, and will settle this great question for ever. The two addresses respectively issued by the two Conven.. 1832.1 7 he Two Conventions. 181 tions, though somewhat different in character, are both very able, and exhibit in a powerful and advantageous form the opinions of the two parties. That of the Philadelphia Con-. vention, considered as a mere literary composition, is, per- haps, more finished and elegant than the other; but, as an argument, is certainly much less elaborate and complete, and to us much less satisfactory. The general outline of the plan is the same in both. They take up successively the great questions of the constitutionality and the policy of the pro- tection of domestic industry, and allege such facts and argu- ments, as are fitted to influence the public mind in favor of their respective views. In the Philadelphia address, the argument against the constitutionality of protecting duties is not, however, pre- sented as the opinion of the members of the Convention, but as that of a numerous and respectable portion of the Ameri- can people. A numerous and respectable portion of the American people, says the address, do not merely com- plain that the system is unjust, but they question the right to establish it. They do not doubr,they utterly deny the constitutional power of Congress to enact it. It is understood that most of the delegates from the Southern States, consti- tuting a majority of the whole body, were of this opinion. Most of the delegates from the North, on the other hand, while they denied the expediency of a protecting tariff, ad- mitted its constitutionality, and rather than permit it to be even called in question, by any act to which they were parties, had made up their minds to secede from the Convention. Under these circumstances, it was agreed, for the purpose of avoiding an open rupture, and the consequent complete failure of all the objects of the meeting, that the argument on the constitutional question should be brought into the address, in the indirect form in which it appears. Even this arrangement was regarded by many of the Northern members as too large a concession; and Mr. Gallatin, decidedly the leader of this party, moved, as an amendment to the address, that the whole section should be struck out. Had this course been taken, the document would have been greatly im- proved. The constitutional argument is, undoubtedly, much feebler than any other part, and whatever strength or plau- sibility is to be found in the address, must be looked for in the discussion of the respective economical results of the two systems. 1 8~ The Two Conventions. [Jan. In the New York address, on the contrary, the constitu- tional argument is decidedly the strongest part, and will be regarded,we think,by every competent and impartial judge,as unanswerable. The economical discussion, although occasionally deficient in firmness and precision, is elaborate, powerful, rich in details, and, on the whole, ex- ceedingly satisfactory. The tone of both these documents is candid, temperate and conciliatory; such, in short, in all respects, as became the dignity of the bodies from which they proceeded. It is much to be desired, that these examples of good temper and moderation in the high places of the two parties, may have their effect upon the minor organs of the same opinions, and may correct, in some degree, the super- abundance of gall and bitterness that occasionally exhibits itself, especially in the anti-tariff p~ipers. We have remarked above, that the solemn and deliberate examination which this great question is now going through by the Government and People of the United States, must pro- duce in the end much good ; and we will now add, that it has already, in this first stage of its progress, produced one most important and valuable result, that of settling the ques- tion respecting the constitutionality of protecting duties. We have expressed on former occasions, and need not here re- capitulate, the opinions we entertain on this subject. They are substantially the same with those, which are embodied in a far superior form in the New York address. The opposite opin- ions, on the other hand, have been urged in various quarters with much earnestness and apparent conviction. In a contro- verted case of this description, it is difficult for the parties themselves to form a coirect estimate of the weight and value of their own argumnents,and still more so for the public to de- cide between them, until there has been in one way or another an actual trial of strength. Such trials have, no doubt, been had previously on a limited scale, in the numerous encounters of wits that have taken place in reference to this question in Congress and elsewhere. Some of these have been of a highly interesting character, and managed on both sides with great ability, particularly the debate on the tariff of 1824, in the House of Representatives of the United States, in which Mr. Clay and Mr. Webster stood forth respectively ~s the champions of the opposite opinions. But at that time, the constitutional question had been scarcely suggested, and was 1832.] The Two Conventions. 183 but little dwelt upon by the distinguished opponents, who, as they are now entirely agreed upon the whole subject, would at that time have hardly differed upon this point. Even in 1828, this objection had not acquired the importance which it has since assumed, and did not, of course, engage in a very great degree the attention of the leading debaters. Since that time it has been gradually more and more insisted on, until it had come to be considered by the opponents of protection, as their principal argument. It was, therefore, natural and proper, that on this great and solemn occasion, it should be fairly met. In the New York address, it is accordingly brought forward as the leading topic, and treated in a full, deliberate, and we think we may say, without fear of contradiction by any impartial person competent to judge,decisive way. We consider it impossible for any such person to read with proper care the argument on the two sides of this question, as stated in these two addresses, without acknowledging,what.. ever may have been his previous impressions,that the ob- jection is answered. Even the authors of the Philadelphia address must,.we think,feel this. The public, at all events, cannot but see it. It is not, however, merely the superiority of the argument brought forward on this occasion in favor of the constitution- ality of the protecting system over that which has been urged on the other side, which makes us regard the question as settled, although this, perhaps, might fairly be considered as sufficient ground for such an opinion. We are confirmed in it by the diversity of sentiment, which exhibited itself at the Philadel- phia Convention, upon this subject. If all those who disap- prove a protecting tariff, believed it to be unconstitutional, and all who approve it believed it to be constitutional, there might be room to suspect in this, as in other parts of the subject, the influence of some sectional interest or prejudice. But this is not the case; for while, on the one hand, the friends of the protecting policy universally believe it to be constitutional, its opponents are not agreed in the opposite opinion. It was known before, and has been more distinctly shown by the pro- ceedings at Philadelphia, that of those who doubt or deny the expediency of the tariff, a large and most respectable portion, including many of the ablest members of the late Convention, agree with its friends in believing it to be constitutional. With these persons, there is no room for the suspicion of any im [Jan. 184 The Two Conventions. proper influence from personal or sectional interests. The bias, if there be any, is all the other way. It was in direct opposition to the strong inclination, which every man naturally feels to adopt all the opinions of the party with which he gen- erally agrees, as well as at the risk of an open rupture and a complete failure of all the purposes of the meeting, that the minority of the Philadelphia Convention refused even to take the question of constitutionality into consideration. It was necessarily in opposition to the same strong influences, and under the impulse of the mere force of truth, that Mr. Ver- planck has since written his letter to Colonel Drayton, con- taining by far the ablest and most lucid exposition which has yet appeared of the single point, decisive in itself of the whole question, which he undertook to treat. This mass of unsus- pected testimony from the other party, coming in aid of the overwhelming weight of argument, on the affirmative side, does, we confess, appear to us to place the question beyond dispute. A few heated partisans may continue to profess, and, perhaps, to feel the same conviction, which they pro- fessed and felt before; but the community at large cannot shut their eyes upon these things, and seeing them as they must, cannot resist the conclusion to which they necessarily lead. We repeat, therefore, that we consider the question of the constitutionality of the protecting duties as settled for ever. We do not believe that any statesman, who values his reputa- tion, will in future undertake to contest it,that any writer of judgment will venture to make it a matter of serious argument. The tribe of secondary politicians may be for a while as clam- orous as ever in the newspapers, and, perhaps, in Congress, but not finding themselves countenanced by men in whom the public repose confidence, they will gradually change their tone, and the doctrine of the constitutionality of protecting duties will take its place in the class of universally acknowl- edged and uncontroverted truths. We consider this result as a great point gained. The settlement of this question takes the sting out of the opposition to the ,protecting policy, and throws the matter open,like any other of ordinary legislation,to fair, dispassionate dis- cussion. It deprives the nullifiers of the only pretext, upon which they have yet ventured to justify their extravagant pre- tensions. It is not,even on their own showing,any abuse 1832.] The Two Conventions. 185 of power, however open and oppressive, that ~viI1 authorize a resort to the grand newly-discovered remedy. There must be, in the language of the Virginia Resolutions, an open, palpable, and dangerous assumption of powers not granted by the Constitution. The courts of justice had hefore solemnly decided, in repeated instances, that in the case of tl]e pro-. tecting duties there is no assumption of pow/er not granted by the Constitution. But the nullifiers would not admit the com- petency of the courts of justice, to pass upon this question of constitutional law. There was something in the rights and interests which they undertook to support, so peculiar and sacred, as to place them entirely out of the reach of all com- mon rules. The case has now been still more solemnly argued, and we undertake to say, not less distinctly decided against them in the open court of public opinion. To the ju- risdiction of this tribunal no exception can be taken, and from its decree no appeal can be made. The quiet and bloodless ol)eration of the ballot-box, more effective than the marshals truncheon or the terrors of the posse comitatus, enforces it at once against the fiercest opposition. Vaporing and violence are lost upon the returning officer. When the public opinion has fully declared itself at the polls, the citizen must acquiesce or return to private life. When this alternative is fairly pre- sented to them, it is not uncommon for a new light to burst very suddenly on the most determined adherents of the un- successful party. One great good has, therefore, already resulted from this dis- cussion, we mean the settlement of the question of the consti- tutionality of protecting duties. From the farther progress and termination of the inquiry, we anticipate, as we have already re- marked, a similar result in regard to the question of expediency, the other principal point connected with the sUbject. This is a question of somewhat larger scope than the other, and not so readily decided by a few striking facts and cogent arguments. The principles involved in it are less certain, or, at least, less universally acknowledged ; and the application of them re- quires the knowledge of a great variety of details, which have not yet been fully spread before the public. Much has, how- ever, been done within a few years to supply this deficiency, and the proceedings of the New York Convention will aid very powerfully in the accomplishment of the object. Coin- mittees were there appointed upon all the principal branches VOL. XXXIV.NO. 74. 24 186 The Two Conventions. [Jan. of domestic industry. Some of them reported immediately to the Convention, while others reserved their reports to be trans- initted to the permanent committee of that body. There is reason to hope and believe, that their researches will ultimately bring to light all the facts which are important to be known: and when facts are clearly ascertained and agreed upon, there is rarely much dispute among intelligent men about principles; that is, about the general propositions, in which these facts are to be expressed. The extent to which our domestic fabrics have advanced under the influence of the protecting policy, the rapidity with which they are advancing, and the beneficial effect which their progress has produced upon the comfort of all classes of society, are not yet fully appreciated by the pub- lie. The present discussion will throw a strong light upon all these points, and,if we are not greatly deceived,will satisfy the most prejudiced minds. A system founded on the immovable basis of truth, and carrying with it, as this does, triumphant proof of its value in its steady, brilliant, and con- stantly progressive success,must surely make proselytes very rapidly, and command, at no distant period, the universal acquiescence of the people. It is not our purpose to enter at present into a formal exam- ination of the argument upon either of the great branches of the subject. We could scarcely hope to add any thing to the elaborate and perspicuous statements, that are given in the New York address. Nor is the moment, when new researches have been instituted into the state of facts, particularly favor- able for a discussion of principles. We shall, therefore, on the present occasion, confine ourselves to a few observations on the effect of the approaching extinction of the public debt, upon the financial and economical measures of the Govern- ment. r1~he public debt,should no unforeseen circumstances oc- cur,will be extinguished on the 1st of January, 1833, and the annual appropriation of ten million dollars, which is now by law regularly made for this purpose, will no longer be re- quired. If the duties remain the same as before, this sum would, of course, be added to the ordinary surplus of the rev- enue over the expenditure. This surplus amounts, for the last year, to seven or eight millions, but does not in general ex- ceed two or three. With the addition of the ten millions that become disposable by the extinction of the debt, it 1832.] The Two Conventions. 187 would rise, of course, to about twelve. After the period of the extinction of the debt, and supposing the sources of revenue to be the same as before, there xviii remain, therefore, in tbe hands of the Government, an annual surplus of revenue over expenditure, of about twelve million dollars. How is this sur- plus to be appropriated? What financial measures ought to be adopted, to meet this crisis of a new description? The plan which naturally suggests itself at once, as the ap- propriate remedy for the difficulty in question, is to reduce the revenue by repealing a part of the duties, and as the occur- rence of this crisis furnishes no motive for changing the policy of the country in regard to the protection of domestic industry, it is equally apparent that the necessary reduction should he made, by repealing the duties on such foreign articles as do not enter into competition with our own products. This plan has, accordingly, been proposed already in various quarters, and particularly in the New York Convention. It appears to have met with general approbation, and xviii be found, we ap- prehend, on full examination, completely adequate to the emergency. The precise extent to which the revenue may be reduced, by a repeal of the ditties on such foreign articles as do not enter into competition with the products of our own industry, has not yet been ascertained with perfect exactness. We give the following as an approximative estimate. STATEMENT OF THE AMOUNT OF THE DUTIES ON CERTAIN ARTICLES, FOR THE YEAR ENDING SEPTEMBER 30th, 1830. Value. Duties. Silks from India, less debenture, 1,000,000 Duty 36 pr. ct. 360,000 other places, 4,000,000 22 880,000 Watches and parts ofdo. 310,000 12 1-2 38,730~ ~ Pearls and Precious Stones 63,000 121-2 8,1251 ~ Tin in plates, 361,000 15 54 150 ~ 10,807,00 Opium, 37,000 15 5,550 I 2u Raw Silk, 10,000 15 1,500) ~ $1,348,075 Galls. Duty. WinesMadeira, less re-exported, 166,000 50 cts. 117,250 Sherry, 48,500 50 5 Red, France and Spain, 1,110,000 10 111,000 do. not enumerated, 1,180,000 15 177,000 Sicily, und other countries not enumerated, 300,000 30 90,000 lbs. Duty. TeusBohea, less debenture 149,000 l2cts. 17,880 Souchong, 1,676,000 25 419,000 Hyson Skin and other Green, 1,685,000 28 471,800 Hyson and Y. Hvson, 3,140,000 40 1,256,000 Imperial~ 280,000 50 140,000 2,304,680 The Two Conventions. Coffee, less debenture, Cocoa, Almonds, Currants, Prunes and Figs, Raisins in Jars, other, lbs. Duty. 38,500,000 5 ets. 1,925,000 1,000,000 2 20,000 3,160,000 3 94,800 3,260,000 4 130,400 2,700,000 3 81,000 2,251,200 Duty. 2,000 2 cts. 40 54,250 60 32,530 4,000 25 1,000 38,000 25 9,500 1,100,000 8 88,000 1,340,000 6 80,400 100,000 6 6,000 SpicesGinger, less debenture, Nutmegs, Cinnamon, Cloves, Black Pepper, Pimento, Cassia, Books, not English, Latin or Greek, 90,000 Vols. at 4 cts. 3,600 221,090 Molasses, 8,374,000 Gallons, paying 10 cts. pr. Gal, remit half, say 5 cts. per Gallon, - - Brass in plates, $10,608 Duty 25 pr. ct. 2,652 Saltpetre, crude, 32,214 121-2 4,027 Camphor, 107,000 lbs. 8 8,560 N. B. In addition to the above, if absolutely necessary, the duties might be remitted on Worsted Stuff Goods, and on articles not enumerated paving 12 1-2 aisd 15 par ct. duty. Worsted S~nff Goods imported in the year coding Sep tember, 1030, $1,400,000 Duty 25 pr. ct. Maunfact. Goods not ettumerated, 883,685 12 1-2 2,558,858 15 15,259 $350,000 110,460 383,827 $844,287 Add 10 pr. ct. 84,428 418,700,00 6,635,534,00 ________ 928,715,00 $7,993,756,0O Total of duties accrnin,, in the year ending September 30th, 1830, which might be repealed without material injury to domestic industryTo which might also be added the dnty on Iudf,o, if the South will consent. It will next year be fifty cents per pound, but the Carolinas and Louisiana will not return to its cultivation. It appears from this estimate, that duties to the amount of about eight millions of dollars may he repealed, without [nate- lially interfering with tile principle of protection. Supposing, as above, tile annual surplus after the extinction of the debt to he, according to the present rates of duty, about twelve millions, it ~vould he reduced hy such a repeal to about four. This surplus is the fund out of which tile Government IntIst regularly provide for accidental deficiencies in the reventie, un- foreseen excesses of expenditure, and internal improvements. Four or five millions would be considered,we suppose,as a moderate estimate of the amount necessary for these objects, taking them all on the very lowest scale. It is apparent, 188 [Jan. 1832.] The Two Conventions. 189 therefore, that even on the system of those, who are most anxious to reduce the revenue of the country as nearly as possible to a level with the ordinary expenditure, the ap- with proaching crisis in our finances will not be attended any real difficulty, or any necessary danger to the maintenance of the principle of protection. Some of the anti-tariff writers, who are anxious to turn this crisis to account for the purpose of prostrating the manufac- tures of the country, and who are apparently aware, that it may be fairly met by a repeal of the duties on articles which do not enter into competition with our own products, have endeavored to throw odiu[n upon this measure, by representing it as favoring the wealthy at the expense of the poor. It is unjust, they say, and impolitic to repeal the duties on foreign luxuries, and leave them in force upon the necessaries and comforts of life. Such is substantially the language of the New York Evening Post, a paper from which,considering the well known intelligence of the editor and principal con- tributors,we should have expected a more correct and statesman-like view of the subject. What, in fact, is the real operation of a repeal of the duties on tea, coffee, wines, and the other articles enumerated in the above estimate? Obviously to bring within the reach of the middling and poorer classes articles of comfort and luxtiry, which are now exclusively enjoyed by the rich. The latter can afford to purchase their tea, coffee, wines and spices, at wlmtsoever rates they may be sold. The difference in their prices, resulting from a repeal of the duties, would be hardly felt as an advantage by men of large property. But there are numerous families, comprising, in fact, what may be called the mass of the community, whose incomes are limited, and who cannot afford to ptmrchase these articles, excepting at certain limited prices. Here, then, is a measure, which brings within the reach of this extensive and important portion of the peoJ)le, a variety of comforts and luxu- ries, which they either could not enjoy at all before, or could only enjoy in much more limited quantities. In good earnest, is this favoring the rich at the expense ofthe poor? The anti tariff writers are not entirely destitute of intelligence. They are not, we hope, in all cases absolutely blinded by party preju~ dices. We put it to their candor and good sense, to say, whether a law, which, without conferring any material benefit upon the rich, puts the middling and lower classes in possession 190 The Two Conventions. [Jan. of comforts and luxuries which they would not otherwise enjoy, is a tax upon the poor for the benefit of the rich? Can such a proposition, fairly stated, be maintained for a moment? Will the most daring, the least scrupulous of the party writers un- dertake to say a single word in support of it? Yet such is the doctrine, which has been gravely advanced in papers of high authority,papers, which, on former occasions, have put forth claims to all the light that there is in circulation on the subject of political economy, and have denounced the friends of the pro- tection of domestic industry as a set of ignorant pretenders. In the same way, the protecting duties on foreign manufac- tures are often represented as taxes on the poor. What is the real state of the case? The protecting duty, by excluding the foreign article, and encouraging the production of the domestic one, which can be furnished without any charge for trans- portation, reduces the price, and supplies the consumer at a lower rate than before. This is the general principle laid down by all the writers on political economy, from the time of Adam Smith and Alexander Hamilton to the present day. If there were any doubt about it, the experience of the United States has amply demonstrated its truth. Every article that has been made the subject of a protecting duty, is now sold cheaper than it was before the duty was imposed. In some important cases, the present price of the protected article is below the rate of duty on the corresponding foreign one, although we are gravely told in tho Philadelphia address, that the reduction of prices, occasioned, as the authors suppose, by certain accidental causes, has necessarily stopped at a point which is ascertained by adding the amount of duty to the price of the imported article. If it were necessary, on the system of these writers, that the reduction should stop at this point, and we find, in fact, that prices have fallen a great deal lower, does not this very circumstance prove, that their system is false? Will they continue to adhere to it, when its leading principles are thus directly at variance with acknowledged facts? However this may he, the people of the United States are of course intelligent enough to perceive, that a law, which reduces the price of most of the ordinary necessaries and comforts of life, is not a tax upon the poor for the benefit of the rich. In fact, the operation of the American system, as it will probably be modified by the approaching crisis in our financial affairs, while it is in a great measure indifferent to the wealthy, is 1832.] The Two Conventions. 191 directly favorable in all its principal features to the middling and poorer classes of the community. The duties levied on foreign articles of common use, by encouraging the production of domestic articles of a similar kind at less expense, enable the mass of the community to obtain the necessaries of life at cheaper rates, while the repeal, which will probably take l)lace of most of the duties on foreign articles not coming into corn- petition with our own 1)roducts, will bring within the reach of the same classes a variety of comforts and luxuries, which they could not enjoy before. Sophistry may do its best, but will never be able to convince the mass of the people, that such a system is opposed to their interests. It is apparent, however, as we have already remarked, that even on the view of those who are most inclined to reduce the revenue to the level of the ordinary expenditure, there is no real difficulty in the approaching financial crisis. We have shown, satisfactorily as we trust, that all the reduction which is necessary to meet this crisis, even on this view, may be made without infringing on the principle of protection. For ourselves, we do not profess to feel any peculiar anxiety on the subject, and although we shall cheerfully acquiesce in a repeal of the duties on foreign articles not entering into com- petition with our own products, should such a measure be thought expedient by the Government, we should be quite willing to dispense with it, and to leave the Government for a few years in possession of an annual surplus of twelve or fourteen millions. By the force of circumstances, this surplus would gradually diminish. The object of protecting duties is to build up home manufactures, and discourage the importa- tion of the corresponding foreign articles. As fast as they accomplish this object, they of course become less productive, until they finally cease to afford any revenue at all. The duty on cotton is merely nominal; that on cotton fabrics will soon become so; and the case will be the same with all the others, as soon as the domestic manufactures protected by them are sufficiently flourishing to supply the market. The surl)lus, therefore, would be constantly diminishing, and, in the mean time, might, while it lasted, be turned to very good account for the promotion of internal improvement. We are aware, that many persons look with great distrust on the expenditure of money for this purpose, by the General Government; some denying the constitutional power, and others the expediency of 192 The Two Convefltwn8. [Jan. exercising it, if it exist. But when we recollect, how often tens and hundreds of millions have been annually expended for many years in succession, by almost all nations, for the insane purpose of destroying life and capital, we should not regret to see one nation trying for once the experiment of a liberal annual appropriation to objects of general utility. Supposing a stir- l)1u5 of ten millions to be applied to such objects for only ten years, what important results might not be obtained! How many roads and canals might be laid out through regions, that are now suffering from the absence of such communications! How many literary, benevolent, and pious institutions, might be founded, or restored from the languishing state into which they have sunk for want of funds! A single annual appro- priation of the amount just mentioned, would place in the capital of every State of the Union, a valuable public library, or establish in each a well endowed university, and thus open, in either cas2, a perpetual and never-failing spring of knowledge, virtue, and civilization, through all the coming ages. When we reflect, how much of the success and prosperity of a whole community has often resulted from the influence of some one good institution, we may venture to say, without passing the bounds of moderation, that an expenditure for purposes of internal improvement, of the amount and for the time just men- tioned, would, in many important particulars, l)ut a new face upon the country, and materially affect, in the most favorable manner, the future fortunes of the people. We