THE UNITED STATES MAGAZINE AND DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. VOL. X. JANUARY, 1842. No. XLIII. STATE CREDIT. THE Mississippi Bonds must be paid. To the last dollar, the last cent, the last mill, every pledge of the public faith, whether by the collective whole of our glorious Union, or by any one of its constituent parts, must be honorably redeemed be the con- sequences, be the cost what they may. Be justice done though the firmament fall. It is true that the People of the State have been shamefully defrauded. But it is not less true that it is to a great extent their owa fault. They have now to submit to the loss of about five millions of dollars as the natural retributive penalty of their own folly. And if they ~vill but lay well to heart the lesson they have been taught, it is worth its price. They have bought their experience much cheaper than some of their neighbors. Illinois and Indiana, for example, and Pennsylvania, par excellence! We are not surprised at the feeling which has been excited in Mississippi in relation to this subject. We are not surprised that a powerful and respectable opinion has formed and declared it- self against the payment of these bonds. It may perhaps be that of a majority of its citizens though the recent election is by no means to be regarded as any decisive evidence to that effect. It is easy to suppose that, among those whose suifrages have elected Governor Tucker, a much larger number than that of his majority over his competitor may have had no serious idea that the bonds ought to be, or actually would be, repudiated. Yet even if it were the present will of a clear popular majority, we would ascribe it rather to a temporary though natural exaspera- tion against the authors of this great fraud upon the State; blind- ing the eyes of the people to that more calm and just view of all 4 State Credit. [January, the bearings of the question, which we should still feel certain that they would not fail to take after a brief season of sober second-thought. Of one thing there is no doubt that the charge so angrily brought against the people of Mississippi, of a wilful and delibe- rate spirit of bad faith, of public dishonesty and dishonor, in the threatened repudiation of the bonds in question, is a gross cal- umny. Made originally by those whose pecuniary interest prompts their clamor on this charge, it is reechoed by a party press, which seeks to turn it to a political advantage. In our own opinion the argument of the anti-bond party is an unsound one; yet is it by no means a clear case or a simple question. There is a great deal to be urged, and with more than plausibi~ lity, on both sides; and we are well assured that the great body of those among the Democratic Party of Mississippi who support the repudiation, would be found the last to attempt or desire to evade the payment of a just debt or an honorable obligation No one would pretend that in a private transaction, parallel in all its features to the case in question, the slightest obligation, techni- cal or equitable, would attach on the part of the principal, to pay the bonds so fraudulently issued by a dishonest agent, in viola- tion of the express prohibition of the very authority under which the latter held all his legal existence. The principle of law in force in that State, moreover, is, that the transfer of choses in action, even to innocent third parties, can involve no prejudice to any rights or equities on the part of the obligor. If some one must suffer from the dishonesty of an unfaithful agency, it must be the party who trusts him without the proper and prudent scrutiny which he ought to have made into the nature and extent of his powers. If we apply to the State the analogy of a private trans- action of the same character, the advocates of repudiation must stand unanswerably justified. And this view of the question combined with a sympathy for the honest People that has been made the victim of the fraud of the case has led several of the democratic papers of the north to sustain them in that position. But, like many similar applications of private analogies to public transactions, the argument is, we repeat, in our judgment an un- sound one; and we should sadly belie the past character and course of the Democratic Review, if, entertaining this opinion, we should allow ourselves to be checked by any partisan consid- eration, from its frank and free expression. The anti-bond argument is this: In the first place, the Con- stitution of the State expressly requires that every law for the 5 1842.] State Credit. pledge of the public credit shall receive the distinct sanction of two successive Legislatures. Now it is true that a certain law was passed at one session, and duly confirmed at the next, author- izing the loan of the credit of the State, to the amount of fifteen millions of dollars, to the great Union Bank, which it was then determined to create. But a supplementary ~w was passed shortly after, involving a material change of the original law, and authorizing a direct subscription by the State to the stock of the bank ; and it was under this law, which had not passed through that ordeal of popular ratification prescribed by the Constitution of the State, that the transaction in question took place. At the time of the passage of this supplementary act, a minority in the Legisla- ture (at the head of which stood the recently elected Governor, Mr. Tucker) entered a formal protest against it, as unconstitutional and void. In the second place, the provisions of this very act itself were palpably violated in the issue of the bonds, by a fraud- ulent collusion between the Union Bank, the commissioners ap- pointed by it for the negotiation of the bonds, and the Bank of the United States, by which, through the name of Mr. Nicholas Biddle, they were purchased. They were sold at a credit instead of for cash, and instead of being made payable, according to the terms of the law, in current money of the United States, were made payable in London, in sterling currency, at a rate of 4s. 6d. to the dollar, involving a heavy loss, and a departure, as it is alleged, from that standard of par value, which was prescribed by the law. The total amount of loss thus sustained by the State, through the Bank, by the departure from this double requi- sition of cash and par, is computed by Governor McNutt, in his celebrated Letter to the Hopes of Amsterdam, at the enormous sum, on the five millions of bonds sold, of $1,084,781 00. Now, it is contended that the express conditions on which the public faith was plighted, as represented in these bonds, having been thus violated, no obligation affecting the State was created by the transaction ; that these violations of condition were not of an immaterial character, but substantially affecting the rights and the safety of the State, as the obligor on the bonds; the ability of the Bank to pay them, as well as to fulfil the objects of its crea- tion, being prejudiced to the amount of the sacrifice thus ille- gally and improperly incurred by it in the operation ; that the Constitution of the State, and the law under which the bonds were issued, were public documents, of which all parties interest- ed were bound to take notice, and to inform themselves, at their own peril if they should neglect so obvious a duty of prudence; that it is therefore to the Union Bank which issued, and the 6 State Credit. [January, Bank of the United States which purchased and resold, or pledged, the bonds in question, endorsed with its own guarantee, that the European holders of them must look for their redemption, and not to the people of the State of Mississippi ; and finally, that inasmuch as no portion of the proceeds of the bonds ever came into the treasury of the State, or under the control of any of its officers, there is no equity in the case against it so as to counter- act the undeniable technical illegality of the transaction on the part of the two banks, and to impose on the State an obligation of honor to redeem the bonds. Such are the leading points of the anti-bond argument. It is not to be denied that they constitute at least a strong prima facie case in favor of the proposed repudiation; and that they ought to silence the clamor we have heard against the people of Missis- sippi, as desiring to evade the redemption of the public faith of the State, fairly and legally plighted. That is precisely the hinge of the question, and to assume that the public faith is so plighted, is nothing more nor less than a complete peti- tio principii. And to infer from the present agitation of this controversy, that there either exists now, or is likely to arise, in any of the States of this Union, anything like a for- midable disposition to repudiate their public debts, is as ab- surd as it is calumnious. We are profoundly and perfectly con- vinced, that every dollar of the public stocks of every State in the Union will be eventually paid, to the last jot and tittle of the redemption of their plighted honor. Fearful as may be the de- moralization, with respect to the sanctity of contracts, which has been the worst of the fruits of our paper-money credit system, we have no fear that it has proceeded to such a length as this. And of one thing are we especially certain that the Democratic Party, which is and must continue in the long run the dominant power in the country, will be the very last portion of the whole people, with whom the base infamy of such a proposition will be ever likely to meet a favorable reception. For we are the party which, throughout the struggles and discussions of the last ten or twelve years, about these questions, has placed itself in oppo- sition to the excesses and abuses of credit the party of mode- ration, of prudence the paying, in contradistinction to the borrowing, party. In private affairs, it is always on the part of those the most bold and speculative in their calculations on credit and chance, that the most lax morality prevails in regard to the redemption of the obligations they are so adventurous in hazard- ing. And in public, it is from your Credit System parties that proceed your retroactive bankrupt laws, your bank suspensions, tolerated by opinion, and sanctioned by legislation, & c~ and from 1842.] State Credit. 7 them, too, if ever from any, that can alone proceed such a public act of State bankruptcy, as is here in question, if ever the press- ure of a public debt shall become too heavy to be sustained by the industrial energies of the people. If that day is ever to arrive in any of our States, the public creditor, whether he may reside at the antipodes, or in our own midst, may rely upon the assurance which, in the name of the American democracy, we feel authorized to give him, namely,that when he will find himself abandoned to his fate by those who now profees to be his pecu- liar friends, it will be the Democracy which will surrender to him everything but honor; which will cast to the winds every- thing but conscience; and which will sell out the fee-simple of the last foot of earth covered by the last hearth-stone, if neces- sary, for the payment of the last cent of principal or interest on the public debt. But to return to the Mississippi Bondswe repeat that they must be paid. rihe analogy, derived from the legal relations of a corresponding private transaction, on which the repudiation ar- gum~nt rests, is in our opinion deceptive, though specious, in its application to the circumstances of the present case. In the first place, no great force can be claimed for the argument of the un- constitutionality of the law in question. That the attention of the Legislature of 1838 was fully drawn to that point, is apparent from the fact of the protest against its passage by the minority, on that ground. Their act was an expression of their own judg- ment that it was constitutional; and representing, as they did by their majority, the people of the State, it is too much to expect that the foreign creditor, when in the act of lending his money, should undertake to revise and overrule their decision upon a point of that nature, made under their own high political and moral responsibilities, to the people and their own oath of office. Faithfully and honestly or notyet actually it cannot be denied that they represented the people; and the doctrine would be ab- surd, that when in the interval between the passage of a law, of per- haps disputed constitutionality, and a judicial decision to that ef- fect, equitable rights have arisen under its operation, involving the public faith to innocent private parties, a subsequent change of majority should justify the Legislature in repudiating all such obligations, on the ground of the different view now taken by it of the constitutional question. A legislative body must stand as the sole authoritative judge of its own constitutional po~vers, until the actio.n of the judiciary supervene, in some controversy of pri- vate rights. And though a law mny of course be declared void for unconstitutionality, as affecting injuriously the rights of oth 8 State Credit. ~January, cr8; yet it would be monstrous to claim for the people of a State as represented and embodied in its regularly constituted Legislature, the right themselves to take advantage of such a sub- sequently declared unconstitutionality, to repudiate, to their own benefit and the injury of innocent third parties, obligations as- stimed by them with all the solemn formality of an act of legis- lation, claiming to be for an object of public interest, and in the very act positively asserting its own constitutionality. They can- not thus take advantage of the dishonesty or ignorance, as the case may be, of their own elected representatives. If they will be guilty of the folly of sending such a set of men to their legis- Jative halls, they must for the present submit to the consequences for which they have themselves chiefly to blame, and for the future profit well by the experience for which they have been thus made to pay. The unconstitutionality of the law, then, clearly will afford no justification to the Anti-Bond party for the course threatened by a large part of the press of Mississippi,assuming that uncon- stitutionality to be beyond question, and putting out of view the important fact that Governor McNutt, the prime mover of repu- diation, himself signed the law referred to, and himself partially carried it into execution. Nor is the argument of illegality, derived from the mode of ex- ecuting the law, much stronger than that of the unconstitutionality of the law itself. The State subscribes to the stock of the Bank, and the five millions of bonds are delivered over to the officers of the latter, for the purpose of affording it the capital necessary to set it in operation, this being esteemed, by the false and morbid pop- ular opinion of the day, an object of high public concern and in- terest. Grant that, in the sale of them, the Bank, through its agents, the commissioners, may have in some respects transgress- ed the provisions of the law; the State ought not to have intrust- ed them to such unfaithful agents. The circumstance of their being changed in form, from current money of the United States to sterling currency, is immaterial in its nature, unless the former expression is fraudulently meant to give the State the advantage, in the payment of its interest, of the depreciated condi- tion of the paper current money of some portions of the United States. This is not to be supposed; and no other honorable in- terpretation can be put upon the expression than that of the true constitutional current money of the United States, gold and silver. The translation of the one currency into the other may or may not have been at the just rate of the par of exchange. We all know that extremely vague and loose ideas have been of late years very prevalent of the meaning of that little monosylla 184~2.] State Credit. 9 Me. Par has had a very different meaning with the one of our political parties than with the other. With the Whigs, inchi- ding a great majority of the commercial community, the current value of a suspended bank-note circulation has constituted the local standard of par, while specie has been at a greater or less premium ; while with the Democratic party the currency of the Constitution and of the world, the precious metals, have alone afforded the standard level from which the depreciation of the respective paper circulations of different sections have been measured downward. We cannot perceive in this feature of the transaction, taken even in its strongest shape, a just or honorable ground for the proposed repudiation. It ill becomes a sovereign State and that State a republic and a democracy to contest on petty technical grounds of such a character as this, the pay- ment of debts, however unwisely contracted and trusted in the hands of unfaithful agents, on the faith of which an innocent for- eign creditor has been induced to part with his property; to place it, if not in the coffers of the State treasury itself; at least in those of an institution in which the State was the largest stockholder, and which it created as a valuable object of public policy, for the presumed benefit and relief of its great commer- cial and agricultural interests. Nor does it appear by any means clear that after the delivery of the bonds to the Bank, in payment of the subscription of the State to its stock, the State has any further right to scrutinize the terms of any arrangement that may be made by the Bank to realize upon them the highest price ad- mitted of by the condition of the market provided that the State is credited with them at the full value of their face, at par and as cash, on its subscription to the stock. And this we under- stand to be the fact. That the directors of the Union Bank have wasted their capital in the false and dishonest system of banking and financiering which has prevailed in that State, is no fault of the foreign creditor, who lent his money on the credit, neither of the Bank, nor of its companion in iniquity, the Bank of the United States, but on that of the State of MississippL The State has doubtless sunk its money, as many a stockholder in many a bank, in that as in other parts of the country. This has not been caused by the fact of the loss sustained by the Bank on the sale of the bonds, be the true figure of that loss more or less. The same would have been the case had the bonds in question commanded a premium, instead of having been sold at a rate of live and six per cent. depreciation. The same would doubtless have been the case had the entire fifteen millions, originally contemplated, been consigned to the same destination. Happily for the people of VOL. X., No. XLIII. 2 to State Credit. [January, Mississippi, and thanks to the intelligent firmness of Governor McNutt, the State has lost only five millions, where it might have lost fifteen. it deserved richly the smaller loss it would have de- served richly the greater for the folly of which it was guilty, ia creating the Bank, and thus endowing it with the means of evil from the public treasury. It would have made no practical differ- ence in the result, whether the contribution of the State had been in the form of a loan of its bonds to the Bank, as contemplated ia the original act, or in that which was given to it by the supple- mentary act authorizing a direct subscription to the stock. Sub- stantially the transaction was the same. ,The former was fully authorized by the required constitutional ratification. The truth is, that the public opinion of the State in relation to banks and banking facilities was radically wrong. The people of Mississippi are now only paying the natural and usual penalty of human folly; and instead of complaining instead of staining the fair scutch- eon of the public faith and honor with the disgrace of this threat- ened repudiation they ought rather to consider themselves for- tunate in escaping with but one-third of the loss which they might have sustained, and which they so unwisely hazarded. The bonds must be paid, then ; and that they will be event- ually paid, whatever may be the action of the Legislature re- cently elected, we have no more doubt than we have that they ought to be. One good result, however, at least, may be ascribed to the agi- tation of this question in Mississippi and ~ve are duly and sin- cerely grateful for it. We allude to the total destruction of the European market for our public stocks. Our only fear is, that this effect may prove but temporary, and that a revival of the confi- dence of the foreign capitalist may renew yet again this perni- cious system of national borrowing, from which through the last ten years we have suffered so much. Our public credit is down now to so low a point that we can borrow no more Heaven forefend that it should rise again ! except to the extent of doing justice to the creditors on our actual existing debt. Such a state of things we often hear spoken of as a national calamity; it is rather a national blessing. In fact, the doctrine of public credit may be regarded as one of the most pernicious inventions of modern times. Witness its awful fruits in England ! as well as under other foreign governments to which it has alone furnished, by the unrighteous mortgage of the labor and property of unborn generations, the means of carrying on the wars, and sustaining the military establishments, with which they have desolated provinces and kingdoms. And within the past ten years in our own corm 1842.] State Credit. 11 try, extravagantly as we have used it, what good have we derived from it l Useful or useless, good or bad, our internal improve- ments constructed within that period is it the money which has been borrowed on the strength of State credit that has called them into being ~ Far, very far from it. We have gone into debt to European capital to an amount of nearly two hundred millions of dollars, on which, independently of the principal, which will soon begin from time to time to fall due, we must pay an annual tax on our whole industry and wealth of about twelve millions of dollars, but does the simple reader suppose that it is money we have been borrowing, through all this period ?~ If he does, we beg leave to undeceive him. It is no such thing, though we have been most ingeniously made to believe such to be the fact; and that the surplus wealth of European accumulation was thus seeking a mutually advantageous investment in our public works of im- provement, at rates of interest attractive to the foreigner, while lower than the value of the use of capital among us. The truth is, that though we have contracted so enormous a debt, express- ed in figures, and payable, principal and interest, in real money, we have actually received scarce a dollar of it from Europe. The process has been simply this. We have imported an excess of imports about equivalent to the amounts of public stocks we have sold to the European market. We have eaten, and drunk, and worn, and in various ways consumed them. Little if any trace of them now remains, except the debt which we have thus contracted to pay for them, and which must itself be paid by the sweat of our own and our childrens brows. An inflation of our own paper currency at home, and an unhealthy expansion of private commercial credits, have represented the amount of money presumed to be brought into the country as the proceeds of the sale of these public stocks. And if any one wishes to trace out the ultimate sequel and result of the ~vhole, and ascertain what has become of the nominal amounts of European wealth brought to our shores by this stock-jobbing financiering, he will find them so soon as the Bankrupt Law goes into effect, like the fairy money which the next morning converts into dry leaves, stand- ing in imposing array of figures and ciphers, among the worth- less assets of many a broken bank and ruined speculator. To some of our readers the proof of the assertion here made will be necessary to enable them fully to realize its truth. It can easily be drawn from a comparative view of the exports and im- ports of the country, taken in connexion with the simultaneous issues of State stocks, within the period referred to. It was in the course of the year 1839, that the European money-market for 12 State Credit. January, American stocks may be said to have been destroyed. No con- siderable amounts have been sold since the summer of that year, putting out of view the mere hypothecations which may have been made of some amounts in the possession of the Bank of the United States, and some few other institutions. The heavy issues of State stocks may be said to have commenced about 1830. The amounts created prior to that date had been com- paratively small, though after that they ~vent, up to and includ- ing 1838, rapidly crescendo. We use the tables compiled by an able hand, in the fall of 1839, from authentic official sources. The amount of stock authorized to be created by eighteen States, in each period of five years) from 1820 to 1838, was as follows, viz: From 1820 to 1825 $12,790,728 1825 to 1830 13,679,689 1830 to 1835, . . . . . 40,002,769 5 1835 to 1838 (say 3 1-2 years) . 108,223,808 $174,696,994 And the following are the objects for which these debts were authorized by the respective legislatures to be created, viz: For banking, . . . . . . $52,640,000 canals, . . . . . . 60,201,551 CC railroads, . . . . . . 42)871,084 turnpikes and McAdam roads, . . 6,618,958 miscellaneous objects, . . . . 8,474,684 $170,806,277 An examination of the imports and exports, as shown by the annual reports of the Secretary of the Treasury during the same time, furnishes the following results. For the sake of the com- parison between them, it is divided into two periods, the first from 1820 to 1830, and the second from 1831 to 1838, both inclusive: Excess of Excess of Year. Imports. Exports. Imports. Exports. 1820 $56,441,971 $51,683,640 $4,758,381 1821 41,283,236 43,671,894 $2,388,658 1822 60,966,339 49,874,079 11,081,260 1823 50,025,595 47,155,408 2,870,187 1824 55,211,850 50,649,500 4,562,350 1825 63,759,432 66,944,745 3,185,313 1826 60,434,865 53055,710 7,379,155 1827 56,080,932 58,921,691 2,840,759 1828 66,914807 50,669,669 16,245,138 1829 57,834,049 55,700,193 2,233,856 1830 56,509,441 59,462,029 2,952,588 $625,451,517 $587,788,558 $49,039,277 $11,367,318 11,367,318 $37,662,959 :1842.] State Credit. 13 Year. 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 Imports. 83,162,808 76,989,793 88,295,586 103,208,521 129,391,257 168,233,675 119,134,255 101,364,609 $869,789,304 Exports. 61,277,057 63,137,470 70,317,698 81,024,162 101,189,082 106,916,680 95,564,414 96,633,821 $675,460,384 Excess of Imports. 21,885,551 13,852,323 17,977,888 22,184,359 28,202,175 61,316,995 23,569,841 5,330,788 $194,379,920 From this table we see that the total excess of imports over exports (all kinds included) in the first period, eleven years, was $37,662,959, or an annual average of only three, millions four hundred thousand dollars. In the second period, eight years, the same excess rises to the enormous sum of $194,319,920, or an annual average of more than twenty-four millions of dollars. In order to ascertain the actual surplus importations of mer- chandise within these periods, it is necessary to deduct from these sums the respective surplus imports over the exports of the precious metals within the same periods. A view of the latter is presented by the following table, similarly divided as before by the year 1830: IMPORTS AND EXPORTS OF GOLD AND SILVER COIN. Year. 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 Total Imports. $8,064,890 3,369,846 5,097,896 8,379,835 6,150,765 6,880,966 8,151,130 7,480,741 7,403,612 8,155,964 $69,144,645 Excess of Exports, 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 7,305,945 5,907,504 7,070,368 17,911,632 13,131,447 13,400,881 10,516,414 17,747,117 $92,991,308 Excess of Imports, Total Exports. $10,478,059 10,810,180 6,372,9$7 7,014,552 8,797,055 4,098,678 8,014,880 8,243,476 4,924,020 2,178,773 $70,932,660 Excess of Imports. $1,365,283 2,782,288 136,250 2,479,592 5,977,191 $12,740,604 Excess of Exports. $2,413,169 7,440,334 1,275,091 2,646,290 753,735 $14,528,619 12,740,604 $1,788,015 1,708,986 9,014,931 5,656,340 2,611,701 2,076,758 6,477,775 4,324,336 5,976,249 3,508,046 $39,646,136 251,164 4,458,667 15,834,874 6,653,672 6,076,545 4,510,165 14,239,071 $55,054,158 1,708,986 $53,345,172 $1,708,986 14 State Credit. [January, From this table we see that there was an excess of exports over imports of gold and silver in the first of these periods of $1,788,015, or an annual average of about a hundred and seventy- nine thousand dollars. In the second period there is an excess of imports over exports of gold and silver amounting to $53,345,172, or an annual ave- rage of about six millions six hundred thousand dollars. Comparing together these tables, and confining our view to the commerce of merchandise alone, it appears that in the first period the excess of the imports of merchandise over the exports of the same, was $39,450,974, or an annual average of $3,586,452. In the second period, the excess of the imports of merchan- dise over the exports of the same, is in like manner seen to be $140,974,748, or an annual average of $17,621,843. The amount of State stocks issued within the first period, we have seen to have been $26,470,417. In the second we have seen them to rise to $148,226,577. The total excess of imports in the first period having been, as above stated, $37,662,959, about $20,000,000 may be as- sumed as the legitimate excess of imports, representing the commercial profit; the balance of that sum being a moderate allowance for the proceeds of so much of the State stocks issued as were sold in the foreign market. When issued thus mode- rately, it is probable that a considerable proportion of them found purchasers at home. To double that am6unt would then be a large allowance for the corresponding commercial profit within the second period of eight years; the deduction of which from the total excess of imports, as above stated, would leave about $154,319,920. Deduct from this about six millions as probably taken up on this side of the Atlantic, and we show the unnatu- ral and unhealthy excess of imports (with a proper allowance for the commercial profit) corresponding exactly with the amount of ~he sales of the public stocks abroad. Who, then, will pretend that the issue of the stocks has done anything more than simply to run up this enormous amount of debt, for ~this enormous amount of extravagant consumption, upward of a hundred and fifty millions of dollars in excess above our exports, after full due allowance for the commercial profit ~ This system is now, we trust, at an end. After the bitter expe- rience which so many of our States have reaped of its fruits, we hope that there is none now in which the people will tolerate any further issues of public stocks,whatever may be - the delusive 184~2.] State Credit. 15 pretences by which their advocates may seek to recommend them to sectional interests, or to the cupidity of the present genera- tion, which is thus made so dishonestly and oppressively to sad- dle posterity with debt for the indulgence of its own present ex- travagance. We should rejoice to see a prohibition inserted in the constitution of every State of the Union, against the legisla- tive power of contracting a public debt for any purpose whatso- ever. If we were willing to except the case of war and the pub- lic defence, it would be a reluctant and dissatisfied concession to existing popular delusions too strong to be immediately contended with. Taxation, direct taxation, by the voluntary action of the peo- ple themselves, is the only true and just and proper mode of rais- ing whatever funds may be necessary for any of the legitimate duties of government. Taxation, direct taxation, we mean, for the whole amount wanted for the principal,not for the mere pro- vision of the annual interest, to be paid to the foreigner as a vir- tual tribute of financial slavery. Shall we read in history of the devotion with which the citizens of besieged towns, or invaded kingdoms, have poured their wealth into the public treasury, un- stinted and unregretted, for the public defencewhen even wo- man has not only exulted in offering on the altar of patriotism the last jewel or ornament of gold which bound her hair, but has even delighted to weave the flowing beauty of those locks them- selves into bow-strings for the public serviceshall we read of such things, we repeat, and yet doubt the readiness and the lavish abundance with which our people, when attacked by insolent and unjust foreign aggression, if tve will only trust to them and ap- peal to them, will furnish every necessary to carry the country safely and honorably through any such crisis, however suddenly it may come l We repeat that ~ve see no necessity for public bor- ro~ving, even in such great public emergencies as this; and no war ought ever to be undertaken by this country, unsustained by such a public sentiment as would make the people fully prepared to contribute, both by direct taxation and voluntary service, all the means necessary to enable the government to maintain the national cause with honor and success. The ancients waged their wars without public loans; and Bonaparte bequeathed no debt to posterity, to pay for all his gigantic military operations. After deducting the large contributions which he forced from allied and conquered nations, there remains an enormous amount which, sus- tamed as he was by the enthusiasm of the nation, he was easily able to extract directly from the industry and resources of France itself. In the case of public improvements, there is still less rea- son for having recourse to borrowing, to obtain the money for 16 Lines. [January, their construction. If they are worth constructing, they are worth paying for. Satisfy the people, or the parties interested, on the former point, and there will be no great difficulty on the latter. It is always, in these cases, the present generation which e~pects to reap from them an advantage equivalent to their cost, in the development of resources, the opening of markets, and the enhancement of the value of property. Though posterity may, indeed, eventually inherit the whole, yet a regard for the benefit of posterity is very far from being the impelling motive to their construction; nor is there any reason or right in transferring to posterity, in the form of stock debt, not only the actual payment of their cost, but the entire risk of possible failure. If State governments will go on constructing works of internal improve- ment, instead of leaving them to the enterprise of private interest and sagacity, let them at least place this restraint upon their con- stant tendency to excess, by the obligation of imposing a simul- taneous direct tax on the people, to the amount of their cost. There will be little danger then of any other works being under- taken, than those which may be pretty safely relied upon to de- fray their own cost, and which will be indeed demanded by the public interest and will of the whole people. While, when cut off from their present habitual reliance upon the State government and the State credit, the different partit~ular sections which may de- sire the construction of local improvements, will have no difficul- ty in effecting their object, either by the private action of their principal citizens, or by combining their respective public resour- ces for the purpose, in some mode of voluntary self-taxation, for which it would be easy to make the requisite legal provision. LINES By a~nts. c. E. DA PONTE, On seeing a friend weeping over the remains of a lady to whom he had been for years attachcd but who had afterward become united to another. YES, moisten now with tears that face, More cold than winters snow; Pour out, oer her unconscious form, Thy agony and wo Not words, nor tears, nor mortal prayer, Can wake the spirit slumbering there!

16 Lines. [January, their construction. If they are worth constructing, they are worth paying for. Satisfy the people, or the parties interested, on the former point, and there will be no great difficulty on the latter. It is always, in these cases, the present generation which e~pects to reap from them an advantage equivalent to their cost, in the development of resources, the opening of markets, and the enhancement of the value of property. Though posterity may, indeed, eventually inherit the whole, yet a regard for the benefit of posterity is very far from being the impelling motive to their construction; nor is there any reason or right in transferring to posterity, in the form of stock debt, not only the actual payment of their cost, but the entire risk of possible failure. If State governments will go on constructing works of internal improve- ment, instead of leaving them to the enterprise of private interest and sagacity, let them at least place this restraint upon their con- stant tendency to excess, by the obligation of imposing a simul- taneous direct tax on the people, to the amount of their cost. There will be little danger then of any other works being under- taken, than those which may be pretty safely relied upon to de- fray their own cost, and which will be indeed demanded by the public interest and will of the whole people. While, when cut off from their present habitual reliance upon the State government and the State credit, the different partit~ular sections which may de- sire the construction of local improvements, will have no difficul- ty in effecting their object, either by the private action of their principal citizens, or by combining their respective public resour- ces for the purpose, in some mode of voluntary self-taxation, for which it would be easy to make the requisite legal provision. LINES By a~nts. c. E. DA PONTE, On seeing a friend weeping over the remains of a lady to whom he had been for years attachcd but who had afterward become united to another. YES, moisten now with tears that face, More cold than winters snow; Pour out, oer her unconscious form, Thy agony and wo Not words, nor tears, nor mortal prayer, Can wake the spirit slumbering there! i84~2.] .Motherwells Poems. 17 Yes, weep oer that pale loveliness, Upon that darkened bier Those pale lips closed the light all gone From eyes which were so dear! She may not hear, she may not see, How deep is now thy misery. How through those parted years thy soul Still kept its dream of youth, And absence had no power to shake Thy constancy and truth. Then heed them not why shouldst thou care, That they must witness thy despair! Yes, speak though vainly thou wilt breathe That imforgotten vow; She listens not it is no crime To kneel beside her now; Oh, no thy silent love of years May now be told, though told in tears. MOTHERWELLS POEMS. AN American republication of MOTHEItWELL, at last! Thank Heaven we are almost tempted to add. How such a genu- ine literary treasure, says the writer of the Preface to the edi- tion before us, should have so long escaped the notice of pub- lishers, ever on the look-out for what they may appropriate and again lucratively disperse, how so rare an exotic should have been until now neglected in the daily indiscriminate transplanta- tion of so many fruit-bearing and barren trees, of choice flowers and unsightly weeds, is difficult to explain; but so it has been. We can only say, that having early secured a copy of the only and the small edition ever published (in Glasgow in 1832), we have half-a-dozen times advised some of our publishing houses in this city to do themselves the honor of placing their names on the title-page of a reprint; and as many times execrated the barbarism and stupidity of their reply It was no doubt all very fine, but poetry was not the thing! A wonder has, however, come to light a publisher has at last been found, willing to hazard a few of his bank-notes, to place within reach of the Amer- ican public one of the most exquisite volumes of poems with * Poems, Narrative and Lyrical, by William Motlierwell. Boston: William D. Ticknor. MDCCCXLI. VOL. X., No. XLIII. 3

i84~2.] .Motherwells Poems. 17 Yes, weep oer that pale loveliness, Upon that darkened bier Those pale lips closed the light all gone From eyes which were so dear! She may not hear, she may not see, How deep is now thy misery. How through those parted years thy soul Still kept its dream of youth, And absence had no power to shake Thy constancy and truth. Then heed them not why shouldst thou care, That they must witness thy despair! Yes, speak though vainly thou wilt breathe That imforgotten vow; She listens not it is no crime To kneel beside her now; Oh, no thy silent love of years May now be told, though told in tears. MOTHERWELLS POEMS. AN American republication of MOTHEItWELL, at last! Thank Heaven we are almost tempted to add. How such a genu- ine literary treasure, says the writer of the Preface to the edi- tion before us, should have so long escaped the notice of pub- lishers, ever on the look-out for what they may appropriate and again lucratively disperse, how so rare an exotic should have been until now neglected in the daily indiscriminate transplanta- tion of so many fruit-bearing and barren trees, of choice flowers and unsightly weeds, is difficult to explain; but so it has been. We can only say, that having early secured a copy of the only and the small edition ever published (in Glasgow in 1832), we have half-a-dozen times advised some of our publishing houses in this city to do themselves the honor of placing their names on the title-page of a reprint; and as many times execrated the barbarism and stupidity of their reply It was no doubt all very fine, but poetry was not the thing! A wonder has, however, come to light a publisher has at last been found, willing to hazard a few of his bank-notes, to place within reach of the Amer- ican public one of the most exquisite volumes of poems with * Poems, Narrative and Lyrical, by William Motlierwell. Boston: William D. Ticknor. MDCCCXLI. VOL. X., No. XLIII. 3 18 .Molherwells Poemr. [January, which the literature of the language has been enriched within the past ten or twenty years. And we sincerely hope, that, as a just rebuke to those Bceotians of the trade, who could not see in such poesy the thing, the success of Mr. Ticknors edition will prove the rogues they lied. Ja the year of our Lord 1836, on a warm 19th of November, delicious with all the bright blandness of the climate of Andalu- sia, we were sitting on the fragment of an old Roman column, over- looking the ruins of the amphitheatre of the ancient city of Jtalica, a few miles from Seville, in te~te-d-t~te with an intelligent young Scotch artist, named B , a painter, from Glasgow. He had been an attached and intimate friend of Motherwell, whose death had taken place about a year previously. Delighted to meet there an American not only familiar with the name, but fully sympathizing with his own sense of the rare beauty of his poems, he was gratifying the eager curiosity of his companion by talking of the poets character, genius, and life. We parted at last with a promise on the part of B ,that on his return to Glasgow he would send us the requisite materials for a biograph- ical sketch of Motherwell, as also some additional poems written subsequently to the date of the published volume; on the recep- tion of which we promised to effect the publication of an Ameri- can edition, the proceeds of which should be transmitted for the benefit of the wife and two children, whom he had left in such a situation as to render any relief of this nature very desirable. We never heard more from B , and the American public has therefore remained ignorant of the new gems which had been set in the coronal of the English Muse. Whether he shared the fate of the thousands of his countrymen who visit the sunnier south, in quest of health, too late for any other purpose than to lay their bones in a foreign grave, or whether, in his professional ramblings C. in search of the picturesque, amid the lawless confusion thea prevailing in that part of Spain, our parting present of a pair of pistols proved insufficient to protect him from the dan- gers into which too free an indulgence of such a taste might be very likely to lead has never reached our ears. His wife and children, we have said. We leave the word unerased though, unhappily, not the literal truth. The language affords no other single one, to express the relation referred to, which we can use, except those which we will not. The person alluded to wts, unhappily to quote a line from an exquisite poem of his own, of which she was the subject, A mither, yet nae wife ! The details of such a history should hardly be publicly paraded 1842.] Motherwells Poems. 19 in these pages, were they even in our possession. It will be suf- ficient to say, that it was one of those unions in which the pas- sionate heart may vainly seek a compensation in any indulgence of an unwedded love, for a remorseful conscience and the justly unrelenting frown of society. The peculiar circumstances of the case were such as not wholly to forfeit, for the unfortunate per- son in question, the respect and regard of those to whom the parties and the history were known; while after the poets death his friends seemed to feel themselves under similar obligations toward her, and the children that were all he was able to bequeath her, as would have been the just due of one in whose union the sanction of Law had hallowed the bonds of Love. No reader will distort our language into an apology for such a relation as that to which we are here compelled to refer, under any circumstan- ces. We but repeat the impression of it, conveyed by the friend of the poet, thea freshly laid to realize the sad yearnings of his own wounded and wearied spirit I would that I were dreaming Where little flowers are gleaming, And the long green grass is streaming Oer the gone, for ever gone ! To allude to this circumstance is necessary, to make intelligi- ble several of the poems of the volume which will scarcely fail the most strongly to arrest the readers attention, and to move his heart. To do so in ungentler language than we have used, were a desecration of the grave in ~vhich is now buried whatever either of guilt or grief may in life have quickened the throbbings of the pulse which has long ceased to beat. And if any harsher spirit, fearing even to seem to excuse that for which excuse, there can be none, would rebuke what they may perhaps term a mor- bid and mistaken charity of judgment, we can only appeal to those who will have learned, from some of the mA and sweet con- tents of this exquisite volume, a kindlier sympathy with the heart of its author ;referring the stern reprover, too, to the beautiful precept of one Scottish poet, to whose memory the world does not refuse the forgiveness we here invoke for another, who has struck, with no unworthy hand, the long silent strings of the same lyre: Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler, sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human: One point must still be greatly dark, The moving why they do it: And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. 20 .Motherwells Poemr. [January, The writer of the American preface expresses his regret that he has not been able to procure any information respecting Moth- erwells personal history. He mentions simply the fact of his having been the editor of a paper at Glasgow; that he studied much the older poetry of the English language, and published a volume of selections of ballads and other choice specimens of the bygone poetic literature of Scotland and England; that he was an occasional contributor to the magazines and reviews; and that he died on the 15th October, 1835, in the thirty-seventh year of his age. Besides the unfortunate circumstance above alluded to, there is but one other point that we have it in our power to add to this mea- ger outline,narnely, that the paper of which he was the editor, in Glasgow, was of high tory politics; a circumstance, probably, of no unimportant bearing upon the morbid and unhappy state of mind and character exhibited in his poetry. Motherwell was ev- idently a heart-broken man. There is a very sad impress of real- ity on some of these poems, in which he gives utterance to the great griefs that have desolated a strong and passionate soul. They burst from him in wailings, the more profoundly pathetic, from his own apparent efforts to suppress themto stifle the cry of bitterness and anguish, which will force itself forthto cover up beneath a robe of pride, of mighty endurance, and of scorn for the fleeting mockeries and shadows that throng the weary path of human life, a breast in which cancerous agonies the keen. est and the deepest are fast eating their way to the last holds of vitality. Yet had he evidently a kindly and a loving heart, a rev- erential spirit, and a fine sympathy with the holy and beautiful soul of nature, as it would speak pleasantly and soothingly to him from the thousand spiritual influences of earth and air and sky whether amid the sacred stillness of a Sabbath Summer Noon, the awaking music and brightness of a May Morn, or the sweet and solemn spell of the hour of Midnight and Moonshine. Why, then, so desolate, so dark, and so despairing, as his gentle spirit had evidently becomefrom the glimpses which some of these poems open to us down into its black and bitter depths ~ Sharp, doubtless, the pangs which had many a time pierced it through and through; and heavy the clouds of disappointment which may have one after another piled up their masses, be- tween his heart and that glowing glory of young hope which, to the poets eye, in the earlier morn of life, had flushed all creation with the warm hue of its own brightness. Yet still it seems to us that these causes, many and keen as they may perhaps have been, would hardly have produced that result which is apparent 1842] .Motkerwells Poemg. 21 through Motherwells poetry, had there not been added the gloomy and chilling influence of the political faith of which, as we have stated, he was a strenuous advocate. For what does High-Tory- ism in England mean, but despair of humanity ~ It looks around and abroad over the mass of men with no eye of hope, no heart of love. It distrusts, it fears, it despises, it hates. It beholds, in what- ever direction it may turn, a hideous panorama of wretchedness and wickedness. It knows no other remedy than to hang the wickedness, and to crush the wretchedness down yet lower in the dust. It beholds the most frightful social disparities and contrasts, the most heinous wrongs and oppressions, which grind out of the toil, and sweat, and blood, and starvation, and ignorance, and crime of the ninety-nine, the aliment to the pride, and power, and pampered luxury of the one. It beholds all this, and it acqui- esces in it, sustains it, justifies it. It recognises no equality, no brotherhood, and hut faint and feeble human sympathy, with those wretched ninety.nine. It hardens its heart against them, and shuts its ear to the moaning of their misery. It considers that this state of things grows out of the radical evil of human nature, whose necessary law is to be bad and to be wretched; and which must be crushed and coerced by heavy superincumbent restraints upon every impulse that may move it in the direction of its native freedom. It dreads nothing more than the idea of popular liber- ty; for it has no love for mankind, no faith in it, no hope for it. Such is the spirit of English Toryism,and going forth out of the mind of the individual who may be possessed by the dark tyranny of this political faith, it is enough, indeed, to cast a pall of most chilling and cheerless blackness over the moral universe around. Who can be happy with such a night-mare idea perpetually brood- ing over his soul 1~ Least of all men, the poet, the man of pure and tender heart, of loving sympathies with nature and his kind. And when, simultaneous with this pervading and perpetual cause of gloom and hopelessness, pressing upon such a heart from the murky atmosphere of the social world around it, are added individual griefs of blighted affections and disappointed aspira- tionswith the moral retribution, like the death-sting of the fire- circled scorpion, which is the inevitable reaction of the perver- sion of those passions which, when not angels to bless, become demons to torturewho can wonder that the result is an utter misanthropic despair and weariness of life, a consciousness of en- tire blight and failure of all the chances and hopes of this exist- ence, and a wild yearning for a dreamless and unwaking repose in the grave l But a truce to speculations which may perhaps after all be 22 .Mot/rerwells Poems. [January, purely fanciful. The brief space remaining at our command, we prefer to devote to some extracts from the volume itself. Its con- tents are very varied in subject and character. The imitations of the old English poetry, of different ages, are admirable; while noth- ing can exceed the wild, fiery energy of the heroic poems in which his object has been to shadow forth something of the form and spirit of Norse poetry. Few of Burnss Scottish poems surpass the sweetness of Jeanie Morrison ; and, though far from uni- form in merit, some of the songs are entitled to rank among the finest lyric poetry of the language. The greater numher of the whole are of the mournful character referred to in the preceding remarks, and seem to fall on the ear and heart like the wailing chant or dirges on the solemn tolling of funeral knells. The fol- lowing poem we extract, not merely for the sake of the heart- broken pathos that breathes through it, but for the illustration it affords to our remarks upon the unhappy circumstance above alluded to MY HElD IS LIKE TO REND~ WILLIE. My heid is like to rend, Willie, My heart is like to break, Im wearin aff my feet, Willie, Im dyin for your sake! o lay your cheek to mine, Willie, Your hand on my briest-bane, o say yell think on me, Willie, When I am deid and gane! Its vain to comfort me, Willie, Sair grief maun hae its will, But let me rest upon your briest, To sab and greet my fill. Let me sit on your knee, Willie, Let me shed by your hair, And look into the fnce, Willie, I never sail see mair! Im sittin on your knee, Willie, For the last time in my life, A puir heart-broken thing, Willie, A mither, yet nae wife. Ay, press your hand upon my heart, And press it mair and mair, Or it will burst the silken twine, Sne strang is its despair! o waes me for the hour, Willie, When we thegither met, O waes me for the time, Willie, That our first tryst was set! o waes me for the loanin green Where we were wont to gae, 1842.] .Motkerwells .Poemr. 23 And waes me for the destinie, That gart me luve thee sae! 0! dinna mind my words, Willie, I downa seek to blame, But 0 ! its hard to live, Willie, And dree a wands shame! Het tears are hailin ower your cheek, And hailin ower your chin; Why weep ye sae for worthlessness, For sorrow and for sin? Im weary o this warld, Willie, And sick wi a I see, I canna live as I hae lived, Or be as I should be. But fauld unto your heart, Willie, The heart that still is thine, And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek, Ye said was red langsyne. A stoun gaes through my heid, Willie, A sam stoun through my heart, 0! haud me up and let me kiss Thy brow ere we twa pairt. Anither, and anither yet! How fast my life-strings break! Fareweel! fareweel! through yon kirk-yard Step lichtly for my sake! The lavrock in the lift, Willie, That lilts far ower our heid, Will sing the morn as merriie Abune the clay-cauld deid; And this green turf were sittin on, Wi dew-draps shimmerin sheen, Will hap the heart that luvit thee As warkl has seldom seen. But 0! remember me, Willie, On land whereer ye be, And 0! think on the leal, leal heart, That neer luvit ane but thee! And 0! think on the cauld, cauld mools, That file my yellow hair, That kiss the cheek, and kiss the chin, Ye never sail kiss mair! We were assured by the poets friend that there was no more fiction in the preceding, than the supposed actual death of its subject. The connexion between it and the beautiful song enti- tled The bloom bath left thy cheek, Mary,~ will be obvious to every reader. To complete the narrative of this sad history, taken from his own verse, we conclude with the following, which is added in the American, to the contents of the original edition having been written by Motherwell but a few days be- .Motherwells Poems. [January, fore his death. We regret our want of space to make other quo- tations of a different character and less mournful tone. On its first publication some time after, in a newspaper, it was accom- panied with a remark, that no slight interest had been excited in Glasgow, in noticing how the prophetic yearning of the dying poet for the memory of affection had been realized his grave having been observed to be haunted by the constant visits of a young fe- male pacing it round, and keeping still fresh the last memorials offered there of love and grief. But peace be with that grave, and for its occupant, the charity due to human error, the sympa- thy which is the sacred right of all sorrow and suffering, and the love and admiration which none can deny as the just meed of the genius of a true Poet. LINES GIVEN TO A FRIEND A DAY OR TWO BEFORE THE DECEASE OF THE WRITER. October, 1835. When I beneath the cold red earth am sleeping, ~ fever ~ Will there for me be any bright eye weeping That Im no more? Will there be any heart still memory keeping Of heretofore? When the great winds, through leafless forests rushing, Sad music make; When the swollen streams, oer crag and gully gushing, Like full hearts break, Will there then one whose heart despair is crushing Mourn for my sake? When the bright sun upon that spot is shining With purest ray, And the small flowers, their buds and blossoms twining, Burst through that clay; Will there be one still on that spot repining Lost hopes all day? When no star twinkles with its eye of glory, On that low mound; And wintry storms have with their ruins hoary Its loneness crowned; Will there be then one versed in miserys story Pacing it round? It may be so, but this is selfish sorrow To ask such meed, A weakness and a wickedness to borrow, From hearts that bleed, The wailings of to.day, for what to-morrow Shall never need. Lay me then gently in my narrow dwelling, Thou gentle heart; And though thy bosom should with grief be swelling, Let no tear start; It were in vain, for time hath long been knelling Sad. one, depart! 184~21 CHORUSES FROM THE GREEK TRAGEDIES. BY H W. HERBERT, ESQ. I- CHORUS OF GREEK VIRGINS BEFORE THE SACRIFICE OF IPHIGENIA. TiC ap 75/IivaLoC ~3ta Xcn-o~ M/3DoC. Euripides, ~phigenia in dulis v 1036. STROFRE. WHOSE were those bridal measures, That through the Libyan flute so sweetly stole, Blent with the soft lutes call to choral pleasures,. And the wild reed-pipes liquid note, Melting the soul? When upon Pelions top they gave to float Their glittering love-locks on the breezy air, The tt~neful Muses fair, Striking the ground with golden-sandalled feet, While banqueted the gods in order meet, All as they hymned, in songs divinely sweet, Bright Thetis Great Oncides, Till the old Centaurs mount sent back the clang, And that ancestral grove of loftiest trees, As~eleus hymenean rang! While ever and anon that Dardan boy, Joves stolen joy, Brimmed with the mantling nectar up The womb of every golden cup, The Phrygian Ganymede! And on the silver-white sea-margins dancing, In mazy circles deftly now advancing, Retreating now with gleamy speed, Forth swelled the fifty daughters of the sea Their sister Nereids marriage symphony~ ANTISTROFRE. Forth with their pine-boughs glancing, And leafy coronals on every brow, From their deep glades and tangled thickets prancing~ Rushed the wild Centaurs frantic route, The steep hills down; To feast with gods the jovial board about, VOL. X No. XLIIL

184~21 CHORUSES FROM THE GREEK TRAGEDIES. BY H W. HERBERT, ESQ. I- CHORUS OF GREEK VIRGINS BEFORE THE SACRIFICE OF IPHIGENIA. TiC ap 75/IivaLoC ~3ta Xcn-o~ M/3DoC. Euripides, ~phigenia in dulis v 1036. STROFRE. WHOSE were those bridal measures, That through the Libyan flute so sweetly stole, Blent with the soft lutes call to choral pleasures,. And the wild reed-pipes liquid note, Melting the soul? When upon Pelions top they gave to float Their glittering love-locks on the breezy air, The tt~neful Muses fair, Striking the ground with golden-sandalled feet, While banqueted the gods in order meet, All as they hymned, in songs divinely sweet, Bright Thetis Great Oncides, Till the old Centaurs mount sent back the clang, And that ancestral grove of loftiest trees, As~eleus hymenean rang! While ever and anon that Dardan boy, Joves stolen joy, Brimmed with the mantling nectar up The womb of every golden cup, The Phrygian Ganymede! And on the silver-white sea-margins dancing, In mazy circles deftly now advancing, Retreating now with gleamy speed, Forth swelled the fifty daughters of the sea Their sister Nereids marriage symphony~ ANTISTROFRE. Forth with their pine-boughs glancing, And leafy coronals on every brow, From their deep glades and tangled thickets prancing~ Rushed the wild Centaurs frantic route, The steep hills down; To feast with gods the jovial board about, VOL. X No. XLIIL C/ioruse~ from the Greek Tragedies [January, And revel deeply in the joy divine Of bright ecstatic wine! A mighty, mighty light, 0 INereid dear, Thessalian virgins cried, thou soon shalt rear And Chiron wise, and heavens immortal seer, A mighty, mighty light ! did name, Who, landing there, with many a spear and shield, Through Priams high realm should spread relentless flame First warrior on the battle-field, All armed in panoply of burning gold, By Vulcan old, Wrought at the sweet sea-nymphs request, Thetis, who so supremely blest The god-like hero bore. Then did the gods forsake the Olympian bowers, For choral dnnces on the ocean shore, And culled high songs prophetic flowers, To hail the noble Nereids wedded state, And Peleus bridal day to celebrate. EPODE. But oer thy bright locks, and thy snowy brow, With votive wreaths the Greeks shall crown thee now, Jphigenia fair! And lead thee forth, a victim pure and young, Like some white heifer, spotless, wild, and free, Nursed the dim woods and shaggy cliffs among. Yet never, never did the rustic glee Of the rough shepherds lair, Nor Pans wild wood-notes, wak~a thee On the lone shore; Though they shall drag thee by the flower-crowned hair, And stain thy necit of snow with purple gore, The sacred hearths before, Who erst didst grace thy queenly mothers side, Meet, in the fragrance of thy glowing charms, To fill some hero-husbands royal arms, A happy bride! Ah, whither, whither now has fled The might of holiness, the empire dread Of maiden modesty, When impious daring stalks with dauntless tread, And lowly virtue shrinks unheeded by, And laws are trampled down by lawless scorn? low long, great gods! how long have ye forborne? 1842.] Choruses from the Greek Tragedies. 27 CHORUS OF GREEK VIRGINS IN THE TEMPLE OF THE TAURIC DIANA. S rrap& 7 7r~rptva~. Euripides, Iphiger& ia in Tauris v. 1089. STROFILE I. Thou bird, who pourest aye thy mournftil dirge, Along the rock-bound verge Of the deep sea, Thy mournful dirge, which all compassionate, Wailing thy mate! Be it mine, sad Halcyon, to compete with thee, A melancholy bird of no wild wing To soar the while I sing! Pining, alas! for the Greek forum free! Pining for Dian, whom faint mothers call From the green top of Cynthus tall! For the soft tresses of the waving palm! For the dark Daphnes verdant screen, And holiest umbrage of the olives sheen, Dear to Latona ! for the glassy calm Of those swan-haunted lakes, Which not a ripple breaks, Save when a white wing stirs it, where they float, The Muses sacred birds of saddest note! ANTI5TROPHE I. Witness, ye tears, which from your deep founts gushed, And down my pale cheeks rushed In copious flow; When reft from thee by the barbaric spear, My country dear, I clomb the foreign galley, sad and slow, And through the slave-mart reached this cursed spot, Wo, for the captives lot! While smoking yet they lay in ashes low, My native towers ! Alas! alas! the time, That bound me thus a slave in maiden prime Slave to the virgin-huntress of the wold, Her gory altars tending slave of thine, High child of Agamemnons royal line! Ay me! the noblest heart may well grow cold, At fortunes bitter spite, When, unaccustomed quite, It falls from bliss sublime to ruin base! Such change no heart may brook, and not despair. 28 Choruses from the Greek Tragedies. [January, STROFUE II. But thee, fair Argive, to thy native shores A flying bark shall waft of fifty oars, The spirit-stirring reed Of the wild wood-god, with its shrilly note, Timing the rowers speed! Thee, with sweet songs, that all around shall float, Tuned to the seven-stringed lyre, The minstrel master of prophetic fire, Shall the swift oars dash up the foamy sea Nor the sails belly to the snoring blast, While every sheet is strained nor free and fast The galley brave Walk in glad triumph the tumultuous wave! ANTISTROPHE II. Oh! could 1 stand, a slave no more, at home, Where streams the sun on shrine and hippodrome! Oh! could I cease to pray That breezy pinions oer my back would spread, And bear me hence away To those old halls, and that accustomed bed! Oh! could I stand again In festive dance amid the choral train, A happy maid, my mother dear beside, Tending some happy bride! Even as I stood of old, my ringlets flinging, In rich abundant clusters loosely swinging, When, decked with gauzy veils that rose and fell To the voluptuous musics thrilling swell, I filled my place In the blithe contests for the crown of grace! III. ~HORU5 OF GREEK VIRGINS. fi~L #3q ~LfL6~vTa, xa~ Euripzdes, Iphigenia in .~ulis v. 751 STROPITE. The host shall sail the mighty Grecian host! To Trojan SimoYs, that silver stream; Its ships shall crowd Apollos chosen coast; Its spears round Ilion gleam! Where wild Cassandra as we hear them say 1842.] Ckoruses from the Greek Tragedies. 29 Shakes loose the clusters of her golden hair, A priestess young and fair, All decked with wreaths of green immortal bay; When, by the prophet god possessd, That solemn phrensy fills her laboring breast. ANTIsTROPHE. Then! as that host with brazen bucklers glancing, Shall fill their rivers with the onry sound Of hostile squadrons to the shore advancing, Then, their strong ramparts round, And on their citadel, shall brave the fight Troys chosen chiefs while all in burnished arms, To rescue Helens charms Sister to those twin powers who star the night All Greece shall sweep in proud career! All Greece ! and bear thee back, won by the spear! ErODE- Then, then shall they defile thy mighty wall With battles crimson hue And beat thy towers and rock-built ramparts down, Old Phrygian town! Then shall they sack thy broad streets through and through, While many a sacred head to earth shall fall, And wild shall wail through many a marble hall ]Iriams lone spouse and all bis daughters rare! Loud! loud shall ring the echoes of despair In homes oerthrown, all for thy guilty sake, That didst thy nuptial vows so foully break, Helen, Joves child divine! Oh! never fall so hard a fate on me, Nor on my childrens children, as shall be To the rich maidens of the Lydian line, Or Phrygian brides, who, as their webs they twine, Sadly in mournful songs must soon inquire Ak! who shall drag me by the tresses bfight, While sinks my home in the red death-fires light, The captive victim of a chiefs desire? All, all through thee, thou fair predestined child Of that high dame and the white sea-bird wild; If that be true, as mystic legends tell, Which to the lovely Leda once befell When, Joves immortal glory cast aside, A swans broad wings he wore and neck of pride. Unless the tablets of Pierian song A tide of errors strange have rolled along, Teaching the sons of men no truth, but impious wrong- 30 [January ON ASSOCIATION AND ATTRACTIVE INDUSTRY. BY A FOURIERIST.* First .hrlicle. THERE is a monstrous mass of misery in the world, which pleads with deep and earnest tones for alleviation! This misery, under its innumerable forms of moral affliction and of physical wretched- ness, extends to all classes of society, and renders human exist- ence, which contains all the elements of a high order of happi- ness, a mournful pilgrimage, in which disappointment, suffering, and despair domineer with bitter tyranny over our feelings and our destinies. I intend to give, in a series of articles, a practical idea of a system of Association, which I believe will remedy this raise- ry, to which so little regard is paid by the political and scientific leaders of the world, who believe it to be the natural and una- voidable lot of mankind upon this earth. To realize the system, no appeal will be made to the charity * We have acceded to the request of the able and intelligent author of the papers of which the present is the first, to allow him to lay them before the readers of the Democratic Review, in the mode here adopted. Although such a course involves a departure from the general editorial system of the work, yet the peculiar interest of the subject induces us to do so, notwithstanding that they may contain many propositions to which we are far from yieI~ing our assent or endorsement. The subject is one of the mightiest extent and moment. Fou- rierism claims to be a full solution of the great problem of human society. It claims, too, to be the perfect development of a truly democratic freedom, as well as the earthly consummation of that Christianity which fell from the lips of Him who spake as never man spake. To these pretensions we are far from yielding the assent demanded by its eloquent and enthusiastic disciples. The subject is too profound, and its bearings and relations too vast, to permit us to pass any judgment upon it, on such a study as we have as yet been enabled to give it. But there is no doubt that it has made a rapid progress within the past tea years, and also that not a few minds of a very elevated order have, to a great- er or less extent, embraced its doctrine. We have long, indeed, perceived the general tendency of the age to the idea of Association, and believed that it con- tains the germ of a new civilization destined to overspread the earth, and to pro- duce results of happiness and good undreamed of yet by human hope. Whether Fourierism contains the true theory for the practical application of this idea, discussion must demonstrate, and experience can alone confirm. 1~feanwhiie it is entitled at least to an attentive and candid hearingand from none more than from an American democracy. With these remarks, to place the Democratic Re- view rectus in curia in reference to the subject of the present article, we leave the author to speak for himself and his doctrinevouching simply for the gener- ous enthusiasm of philanthropy and conviction from which alone we know his disinterested labors to proceed. ED. D. R.

30 [January ON ASSOCIATION AND ATTRACTIVE INDUSTRY. BY A FOURIERIST.* First .hrlicle. THERE is a monstrous mass of misery in the world, which pleads with deep and earnest tones for alleviation! This misery, under its innumerable forms of moral affliction and of physical wretched- ness, extends to all classes of society, and renders human exist- ence, which contains all the elements of a high order of happi- ness, a mournful pilgrimage, in which disappointment, suffering, and despair domineer with bitter tyranny over our feelings and our destinies. I intend to give, in a series of articles, a practical idea of a system of Association, which I believe will remedy this raise- ry, to which so little regard is paid by the political and scientific leaders of the world, who believe it to be the natural and una- voidable lot of mankind upon this earth. To realize the system, no appeal will be made to the charity * We have acceded to the request of the able and intelligent author of the papers of which the present is the first, to allow him to lay them before the readers of the Democratic Review, in the mode here adopted. Although such a course involves a departure from the general editorial system of the work, yet the peculiar interest of the subject induces us to do so, notwithstanding that they may contain many propositions to which we are far from yieI~ing our assent or endorsement. The subject is one of the mightiest extent and moment. Fou- rierism claims to be a full solution of the great problem of human society. It claims, too, to be the perfect development of a truly democratic freedom, as well as the earthly consummation of that Christianity which fell from the lips of Him who spake as never man spake. To these pretensions we are far from yielding the assent demanded by its eloquent and enthusiastic disciples. The subject is too profound, and its bearings and relations too vast, to permit us to pass any judgment upon it, on such a study as we have as yet been enabled to give it. But there is no doubt that it has made a rapid progress within the past tea years, and also that not a few minds of a very elevated order have, to a great- er or less extent, embraced its doctrine. We have long, indeed, perceived the general tendency of the age to the idea of Association, and believed that it con- tains the germ of a new civilization destined to overspread the earth, and to pro- duce results of happiness and good undreamed of yet by human hope. Whether Fourierism contains the true theory for the practical application of this idea, discussion must demonstrate, and experience can alone confirm. 1~feanwhiie it is entitled at least to an attentive and candid hearingand from none more than from an American democracy. With these remarks, to place the Democratic Re- view rectus in curia in reference to the subject of the present article, we leave the author to speak for himself and his doctrinevouching simply for the gener- ous enthusiasm of philanthropy and conviction from which alone we know his disinterested labors to proceed. ED. D. R. 1842.] On ~1ssociation and .Llttractive Industry. 31 and philanthropy of the age, for they have both been taxed in so many ways, and for so many purpos~s, that the world has become tired of projects which have no vitality in themselves, but must depend upon external aid for support. We shall propose a plan, which, once put in operation, will spread rapidly by its own inhe- rent excellence; and which, while it improves the condition of the laboring classes, will not encroach upon any vested or per- sonal rights, but will offer to the rich a stable and profitable in- vestment of capital. For an examination of the principles I shall set forth, I am peal to those who desire sincerely an amelioration of the condition of their fellow-men; to those who feel an ambition for taking part in a great and noble undertaking; and to those who, weary of the interminable strife and the barren controver- sies of political parties, desire new measures and new means of reform. I appeal also to conscientious Reformers who do not wish to waste their lives and labors upon ephemeral, selfish, and superficial schemes, which vanish with the day that has brought them forth. It is not political and administrative reforms that the world requires; it is a SOCIAL REFORM. The EVILS which afflict society are social, not political in their nature, and a Social Reform only can eradicate them. The causes of Human Misery lie too deep for mere political and administrative reforms to reach them; and so long as the leading and influential men of society continue to waste their efforts and intellectual energies in party strife and contention, and the mass suffer themselves to be guided by them, in the vain hope of a change for the better, they will vegetate together in the deplorable social condition in which all are now sunk. May it not truly be said of them, .t~at they are the blind leading the blind, and that they are wandering in a labyrinth of false po- litical doctrines and dogmas, and groping their way in social dark- ness, without any true principles and high objects to guide them 1 The history of this country proves practically that mere political and legislative reforms can do nothing for the happiness of man and the social elevation of the mass. We have had over half a century of political strife and controversies; different parties, federal and democratic, have had the ascendency; various poli- cies, Hamiltonian and Jeffersonian, have been carried out, and where are the great results which have been attained l We do not deny that commerce and industry have been greatly devel- oped; that vast internal improvements have been made, and an important material progress has taken place. But are the people happier l Have they pleasing and encouraging prospects before them I And are they moving onward toward some high Destiny 32 On .Rssociation, [January, which excites enthusiasm l No, far from it; social evils have increased, and to a melancholy extent; and the future offers us in the political world the prospect of bitter party strife, of dissen- sions and discord, and in the social world, of poverty and degra- dation for the mass. If we examine the present condition of society with an impar- tial eye, we shall find that abuses and evils have increased with fearful rapidity, and that they are much more intense at present than they have been at any former period. Our system of free, or, as it should properly be termed, false and anarchical competi- tion, is becoming more and more violent and relentless, and is engendering a degree of selfishness, antagonism, and animosity between all classes of society, which is revolting to contemplate. It is also leading to greater frauds and injustice in the business world than have ever before been practised, and to a commercial, financial, and industrial demoralization, which is almost legali- zing fraud and indirect robbery of every kind. The condition of the Laboring Classes is also becoming more precarious, and the uncertainty of obtaining employment is gradually increasing. The Mechanic and Laborer can no longer look forward as in for- mer years with the hope of securing a home for old age, but con- sider themselves fortunate if they can satisfy present necessities, and obtain the means of subsistence for the day. The price of rents, living, & c., has increased, while the price of labor has re- mained stationary or decreased; the power of Capital over Labor is augmenting, aad there is a general tendency to a reduction of wages by the operation of free competition among the Laboring Classes; who, pressed by want, offer the sad spectacle of mea competing with each other for the work which capitalists and employers require. The fluctuations and revulsions in commer- cial operations and in banking have become deeper and more sud- den, ingulfing the rich in ruin, and reducing the working classes to utter want, and often to starvation. They overwhelm with the most bitter disappointments and despair all classes, and produce an amount of moral suffering more than equal to that caused by the civil wars and revolutions of former periods. Our whole system of commerce and industry, based upon free competition and en- vious strife and opposition, is a round of harassing cares, anxie- ties, disappointments, hopes blasted, and unforeseen reverses and ruin. The business world is an arena of conflicts, overreaching, and fraud a school for the most callous selfishness, corruption, and demoralization. Its spirit has rendered pettycunning, craft, and business tact, the most important qualifications of men; made the practice of a pure truth and integrity almost impossible; set up wealth as the only standard of excellence; left in inaction the 1842.] and ..~ttractive Industry. 33 higher faculties of the mind; reduced the nobler pursuits, like the arts and sciences, below the mere ability of money-making and caused an intellectual prostitution and a moral degradatioa which are pitiful to look upon. But let us turn from the contemplation of what surrounds us, and take a general view of the, civilized nations of the earth. If we do so, we shall find, at present, times of misery and dis- tress such as the world has never seen before. I will lay before the reader a few statistical facts, which make the mind shudder with horror, when it reflects that so many millions of human be- ings wear out their lives in the wretchedness and wo which are here laid open before us. Before stating these facts I will remark, that the system of society of this country is the same as that of the civilized nations of Europe, where I find the examples of misery which I shall give. The difference between us and those nations, is the difference of government. But the form of gov- ernment is to the social system what the dress is to the body; we have in this country the same body or social organization as France or England; but instead of the tinsel trappings of royalty, we have placed upon it the plainer rohes of republicanism. If the social system be false, the form of government cannot correct the evils which it has engeizdered; to expect it were as vain as to hope to cure a diseased body by changing the dress. The form of government and of the administration exercise an influence only upon the surface j~f social rel~itions; they do not go to the foundation of society, and cannot eradicate such evils as poverty, ignorance, vice, and degradation, from which man should be first relieved. The great error which has been committed, is to have looked upon pQlitical reforms as a sufficient means of realizing social good. The history of the past proves the fallacy of this belief, and common sense dictates that we should abandon a worn- out and fruitless policy, which leads to no results, and seek for new plans and new measures of reform. Social evils are less intense in this country than in Europe, it is trueand why l Because we have a vast extent of soil and a thin population; and because there are outlets and new fields of action offered to the increasing population, and to those who cannot find employment, or who have been broken down in their fortunes. But we are verging gradually to~vard the frightful misery which exists in older civilized countries; nay, we are already in part in it, and we are moving roundward in the fatal circles of the horrible vortex.. Some of the miseries of which I shall speak are already upon us; and those which are not, should serve as bea- cons to warn us of our danger. VOL. X., No. XLIII.5 34 On Association [January, There are in the city of London about two hundred and thirty thousand beggars, thieves, pickpockets, and vagrants. What a vast array of human beings are here plunged in vice, crime, pov- erty, and degradation! In Paris there is in comparison nearly an equal amount of misery and depravity. In some of the wards where the poor reside, out of every twelve children born, eleven die the first year. If the entire annual product of France were divided equally among its thirty-two millions of inhabitants, each would have eleven cents per day; but of this scanty product a minority of the rich absorb so large a portion, that twenty-two millions have upon an average hut about six cents a day each, to defray all ex- penses food, lodging, clothing, education, & c. The fact that the annual income or product of France, equally divided among all, would yield but eleven cents per day to each person, shows the folly of Agrarian doctrines, of a reform in the currency, and of all such false and minor plans and schemes of amelioration. What France requires, is increased production of real wealth increased eight or ten foldwhich is only possible with Associ- ation and Attractive Industry. What is true of France is true of all other countries. We have had in this country nearly ten years of uninterrupted controversy about the currency, and our pol- iticians have not yet perceivect~that it is an entirely secondary ques- tion, and that the primary and important one is that of production.* In Sicily, an island so highly favored by soil, climate, and posi- tion, the condition of the people is frightful. Count Gasparin, Peer of France, in speaking of the state of its agriculture, and the poverty of the peasantry, says: When the crops are bad, or the prices of grain are low, so that the landholders require less labor, then the misery of the country becomes intense: without means of subsistence for the winter, it is not a rare thing to find peasants starved to death in the fields with grass in their mouths, from which they have vainly endeavored to draw nourishment. in Ireland, out of a population of eight millions, every third person experiences, during thirty weeks in the year, a deficiency of even third-rate potatoes. According to the Journal of the Statistical Society, of Janua- ry, 1840, there are ia Liverpool 7,862 inhabited cellars, damp, * Money, whether paper or specie, is merely the representative of the products of industry. By industry, we understand Agriculture, Manufactures, and Me-. chanics. If we wish to render a country rich and prosperous, we must increase those products, not their conventional representative. Instead of endless quarrels about the currency, we want a reorganization of industry, and a good appli- cation of the three elements of production, which are labor, capital, and talent. 1842.] and s~ttractive Industry. 35 dark, dirty, and ill ventilated; and in these lodge 39,300 of the working classes. In Ma.nchester, of 132,000 working people, 14,960 live in cellars. At Bury, one third of the laboring classes are so badly off, that in 773 houses, one bed serves for four per- sons; in 207 one for five; and in 78 one for six human beings. In Bristol, 46 out of every one hundred of the working classes have but one room for a family. In Glasgow, thirty thousand Irish and Highlanders are said, according to the description of Dr. Cowan, to wallow in filth, crime, and wretchedness in the cellars and wynds of this great commercial city. From ten to twenty persons, of both sexes, lie huddled together in their rags and filth on the floors each night. The cellars are beer and spirit shops. Multitudes of young girls, says Mr. Symonds, applied to Capt. Miller, the head of the Glasgow police, to rescue them from these scenes, to which they are driven by sheer want. A year or two served to harden and hurry them, from drunkenness, vice, and disease, to an early grave. The Register General states, that be has seen in one small garret, the husband, sick of a typhus; a sick child laid across the sick mans bed; two others sleeping under the bed; two window recesses let to two Irish lodgers at sixpence a week as resting- places for the night; the wife, a young healthy woman, lying in the same bed with her sick husband at night, and supporting the family by taking in washing, which was hung across the room to dry the parish authorities having forbidden the exposure of linen out of the windows. London Quarterly Review, for July, 1840. John Critchley Prince, a weaver and a poet, gives the following description of a night passed in a workhouse. He had been to the continent to obtain work, but having found none, he had re- turned to England. The first night after his arrival he applied for food and shelter at a workhouse ir Kent, and was thrust into a miserable garret, with the roof sloping to the floor, where he was incarcerated with twelve others, eight men and four women, chiefly Irish, the lame, the halt, and the blind. Some had bad legs, which emitted a horrible stench; some were in a high state of fever, and were raving for drink, which was denied to them; for the door was locked, and those outside, like the bare walls within, were deaf to their cries. Weary and way-w~n, he lay down on the only vacant place amid this mass of misery, in a sleeping-chamber for the unfortunate child of wo, the hapless vagrant in Christian England, at the back of an old woman who appeared to be in a dying state; but he could get no rest for the groans of the wretched around him; and the cra~vling vermin, which, quitting his companions, crept up and down his limbs, 36 On association [January, exciting in him the most horrid loathing. Joyfully did he indeed hail the first beam of the morning that broke through the cran- nies of this chamber of famine and disease; and when the keeper came to let him out, his bed-fellow was dead had quitted her mortal coil, unshrived, unwept, unpitied, and unknown ! London Monthly Magazine, July, 1841. We have no statistical details of n-liseryh in the United States, but we give the following general view of its condition, which we believe is not an exaggerated picture. Of the seventeen millions of human beings composing the population of the Uni- ted States, it is certain that (leaving slaves out of the account) not less than three or four millions are at this moment, and a very large portion at all times, in circumstances of comparative or extreme destitution. We are confident that this is not an over-estimate; although the number of actual paupers and habit- ual beggars may not exceed half a million. But when we add to these the vast army of confirmed drunkards, who, with glassy eyes, burning brows, and shaking knees, are reeling on their down- ward road, with their dependant wives and children, subsisting from hand to mouth, Heaven only knows how a daily repeti- tion of the miracle of the loaves and fishes, save that the baskets full of fragments are omitted, with the scarcely less number of immigrants from Europe, destitute of the means of subsist- ence, and of the intelligence and skill which would facilitate their acquirement; the wives and children of habitual idlers, loungers, and reprobates; the families of the crippled and diseased; of poor widows and persons out of employmentand the aggregate of human suffering from absolute want is frightful. Who can esti- mate it? Besides this melancholy amount of destitution and suffering among the white population of this country, we must not forget that nearly three millions of negroes, who are barely supplied with a minimum of physical wants, are toiling in slavery, and sunk in hopeless ignorance and degradation. But leaving aside these practical examples of misery, let us take a general view of the policy and condition of civilized na- tions. Here we see regions exhausted under the cultivation of a noxious plant, which is grown to furnish idleness and intel- lectual vr4uity with the means of a momentary occupation and excitement. There, districts planted with grain, not to sus- tain life, but to yield a poisonous liquid, which shall afford to grovelling masses a brutal exhilaration, with its attendants, mad- ness, folly, disease, and death. In one country we see black slaves, who labor from fear of the lash, producing the raw ma- terial which keeps at work the white slaves of another country, 1842.1 and .Rttractive Industry. 37 who labor from fear of want and starvation. Here the vessels of one nation are engaged ia stealing the children of Africa from their native land; there the vessels of another are cheating the simple natives of uncivilized regions out of their productions, and initiating them into the vices of civilization. In some countries we see destitute populations, deprived even of salt with their scanty vegetable food, to supply a small minority with the means of wasteful extravagance. In others we see them living and la- boring merely to create products for capital and commerce to speculate upon. The world is full of useless misery, which could easily be re- medied, and which oppresses all classes, the rich as well as the poor. The rich are harassed by disease and physical debili- ty, by apathy, melancholy, and hypochondria; while the laboring mass are worn out physically and morally in the misery and drudgery of our false societies. All classes are more or less mi.erable, and none can escape this condition, until a social organization is discovered, which will secure the happiness of all mankind. God sees in the human race a family of brothers, and he does not permit that a small minority shall be happy, and remain at the same time indifferent to the sufferings and miseries of their fellow-creatures. I.vet the rich and great discover the means of relieving the mass from their poverty and wretchedness, and they will discover at the same time the true means of their own social happiness. There are, on the part of those who are at their ease in society, a selfishness and indifference, which are as reprehensible as they are disgusting. They pay no attention to human misery; they ask not if there is any remedy; they do not even give a thought to the subject. Freed from poverty, they never reflect how hor- rible it is to wear out life in a continual combat with want and anxiety. Little do they think that perhaps with every thread of the gay habiliments which they wear, is interwoven the sigh of a human soul; and that on the delicacies and comforts which surround them, are spent the lifes energies and the vitality of exhausted frames, which have nerves that feel and suffer. Yes, the means of enjoyment, the luxuries of the world, are produced amidst want and suffering, and they come from the abodes of poverty and toil, laden with woes a hundred-fold greater than the delights which they give! The attention of political leaders, and of the influential, must be called to the subject of human misery. The condition of mankind demands~ and demands urgently, alleviation. Their appeals go forth, sometimes in the stifled moans of hidden miseries, sometimes in the loud wails of desperate wo. Wttrs, revolutions, and famine stride alter- 38 On .~ssociation [January, nately over nations, marking with characters of blood and devastation the annals of our societies. This state of things must cease; it is not the Destiny of Man. It has not its origin in the imperfection or depravity of human nature, but in a false organization of society, which deranges and misemploys all the elements of good in man,and produces discord, injustice, and mis- ery, where order, justice, and happiness might and should prevail. What are the great statesmen and legislators of this and other countries doing for the elucidation of true social principles, and the elevation of the mass l Unfortunately, they are doing nothing. Their attention is exclusively directed to political re- forms, and to changes of persons at the head of the administra- tion. The vast problem of a Social Reform, which is so much deeper and more important than any political reform, is entirely neglected. Personal ambition, plans of self-aggrandizement, ephemeral party rivalries and triumphs, individual and sectional interests, absorb the energies and talents of the political leaders of nations! If they were animated by a true and noble ambition, how could they waste their lives and labors in secondary and trifling subjects, when so grand an object as a reorganization of society and the elevation of the human race was offeked to their activiby l The world requires new social guides, new measures and new plans of reform. The intelligence of the age demands higher, wiser, and more practical improvements; it demands effectual remedies for present evils, and a policy which will not always prove abortive and deceptive. Instead of conflicts of interests, anarchical competition, and envious rivalry and opposition, the world wants Association, Combination of action, and Unity of in- terests. Instead of the present repugnant, ill-requited, and de- grading system of LABOR, it wants ATTRACTIVE INDUSTRY, and an equitable division of profits. Instead of endless controversies about the Currency, it wants increased Production, and the vast material economies, as well as moral blessings, of AssocIATioN. Let those who are convinced of the defects of the present sys- tem of society, and who are tired of the vain and sterile strife of parties, be not discouraged in their hope of a better future, by philosophical, political, and moral doctrines, which teach that the earth is, and was intended to be, a valley of tears, an abode of misery, where man was placed to combat and suffer that as evil has always existed, it will always continue to exist; that ignorance, pov& rty, and suffering form a part of the Destiny of Man, and enter into Gods scheme with regard to His creation. Let not their hopes be dampened by these views, for they are all false. A God of Justice has not placed the Human Race upon 184~2.] and .Rttractive Industry. 39 the earth to wear out a weary existence in a round of miseries, which outrage every sentiment of the heart, every desire and at- traction of the soul, and added tantalization to injustice, by im- planting in them a deep, unquenchable thirst for happiness. If he has given us limbs which suffer from the cold, he intended that they should be clothed; if he has given us stomachs which require food, he intended that they should be fed; if he has im- planted in us a love of Liberty and Justice, he did not design that Tyranny and Injustice should oppress and fetter us, and con- sume with their adder-fires the life-feelings within us. If the child comes into the world weak and ignorant, he intended that the strength and wisdom of mature age should extend it support, and call out all the capacities and talents with which it is en- dowed. But above all, if he has given man a Mind to compre- hend the vast scheme of creation, and a Soul to feel its sublime harmonies, he did not intcnd that that Intelligence should be ob- scured by the gloom of ignorance, and those feelings harassed and worn out in the discords, conflicts, and anxieties of our false so- cieties. He has assigned to man a high destiny, that of OVER- SEER of the GLOBE, and of the creations upon it; he has given him noble aspirations, and it must be contrary to his design that he should be a poor and ignorant drudge which is the case with nine tenths of the Race and crushed to the dust, as if the dust were his natural element. No, it cannot be! The present poor and degraded condition of the Human Race is not their Destiny. It is caused by a false system of Society and a false system of Indus- try, and it is only in a Social Reform that a remedy can be found. The earth is fruitful enough to produce in abundance all that is necessary for the physical wants and comforts of man. Let labor, capital, and talent be rightly directed, and it will yield in superfluity its material riches, ~vhich are of primary importance to our happiness. The efforts of men are so miserably applied in our present system of industry and free competition, that the great majority live in a state of destitution,their intellectual nature smothered, and their lives worn out in the anxieties of obtaining the means of a bare subsistence. Association and Attractive Industry are the remedies for the poverty which noW exists, and the train of evils which it engenders. in Association, Labor, Capital, and Skill, can be applied in the most efficient and judicious manner; great economies can be introduced, and a zest given to industry, which will increase production or real wealth to such a degree that abundance can be guarantied to all. Association and Attractive Industry will guaranty to Man richesthat is, a sufficiency of everything necessary to his 40 On .~qssociation [January, physical wants and comforts ;with riches will come pecu- niary independence and education; and with education, intel- lectual development. The mass have heretofore been tyrannised and oppressed, be- cause they have been ignorant and pecuniarily dependant. Let them become enlightened and wealthy, and oppression under all its forms will cease; they will then be respected; they will ob- tain their rights, and know ho~v to maintain them. He who is ignorant, poor, and dependant, is made use of as a tool,he is not respected,he is not looked upon as a MAN. He who is intelligent and independent is respected,it is felt that he was not created to be a beast of burden,he is a MAN! Riches and intellectual development are the foundation of human liberty and happiness; and Association and Attractive Industry will, and can alone, secure these precious advantages to all. If the earth be fruitful enough to furnish man with all that is necessary to his physical happiness, has he not in his own heart and mind the elements of his moral and intellectual happiness ~ He has. He finds within himself emotionssuch as friendship, love, ambition, and paternitythe true and harmonious satis- faction of which procure such high delights; and he finds also within himself intellectual powers which can surround him with wonders in the arts and sciences, and procure him the enjoy- ment of the harmonies of the one and the truths of the other. He wants a society which will develop the material riches of nature and the intellectual riches of the soul, and secure their possession to all mankind. If he can attain this double end, he attains his happiness. Human happiness is not an Utopia, an illusive chimera, which can never be realized; the elements of it are in and around us; we only require a society which will call them out. All classes, at present, are in a miserable condition. The poor possess nei- ther material nor intellectualriches, and their existence is a sick- ening combat against poverty, care, and anxiety. The rich have a sufficiency of material riches or physical comforts, it is true, but have little or no moral and intellectual riches; for our societies cannot secure even to a favored few the enjoyments in a true and harmonious mannerof the emotions and senti- ments, and the higher pleasures of the mind. They indulge so excessively in material pleasures, that their wealth is often a curse instead of a blessing. They are freed from the cares a~nd anxieties of procuring the means of existence; but having few high intellectual occupations to engage their attention, they become tired of the trivial and insignificant round of pleasures which society offers them, and their minds become a prey t~ 1842.] and attractive Industry. 41 apathy, melancholy, intellectual vacuity, ennui, mental dejection, and hypochondria. This state of things is a moral death for the mind, and renders the rich, surrouiided with all their luxuries, frequently more intensely miserable than the poor. Besides, how uncertain are they in their possessions! In the excesses and fluctuations of commerce, banking, and industryin the dis- hoaesty, frauds, and villanies to which the greedy and unprinci- pled strife after fortune leadshow many are precipitated sud- denly from affluence into poverty! And those who, by superior skill or chance, escape the reverses of fortune, may be almost certain that their children will not, but will be wrecked upon the thousand shoals of our societies, and ingulfed in ruin. Yes, our societies expose all men to dangers, sad reverses, and bitter dis- appointments. Let those who oppose ignorantly, and from pre- judice, the idea of a social reform, examine attentively the con- dition even of the most favored in society around them, examine their career, and see how unenviable in reality is their lot; see to how many evils, sufferings, and changes of fortune they are exposed; how often they are overtaken by misfortunes which they could not foresee or avert, and in how many instances they end their lives miserably. Some fall from affluence into poverty; others are disappointed by the bad conduct of children; some again, from these and other causes, take to the fatal cup, and die drunkards; while others are afflicted with poor health, and drag out an existence of debility and disease. There is not one per- son in twenty in our societies, who passes through life with even a moderate degree of good fortune; and as to that high and ele- vated happiness which man might enjoy in Association with At- tractive Industry, moral harmony of the passions, and an extend- ed cultivation of the arts and sciences, no one possesses it. A social reform is necessary for all classes, but particularly for the millions of our poor, down-trodden, and oppressed fellow- creatures, who cannot speak for themselves,who cannot plead their own cause, but must depend upon the intelligent and the rich to do it for them. There is an apathy and indifference among the influential classes and the political leaders of society, which are most repre. hensible. A great noise is made about trifling sins, which are of but small moment; while the crying sin of the times its dark, loathsome Selfishness is denounced by no sect or party. The rich, the clergy, and political leaders should direct their atten- tion to the sad and melancholy question of human misery; they should inquire earnestly if means do not exist to remedy it, and they should search conscientiously for those means. If they VOL. X., No. XLIII.6 42 On ./Issociatiun [January, pass by this important question in silent indifference, they be- come traitors to the cause of Humanity and of God, and they incur a responsibility which they will have to answer as best they can. One tenth part of the time and means spent in selfish pleasures, in sectarian controversy and party quarrels, would, if directed to the great and noble object of the social elevation and happiness of mankind, secure its realization. But now scarce an effort, scarce a thought, is directed to this important subject. Human misery is looked upon as a fatal evil, which cannot be remedied; and it is declared an Utopia, a visionary scheme, even to think of it. The clergy should in particular aid the cause of a social re- form; the elevation and happiness of the human race upon this earth, is the true preliminary step to be taken to secure their sal- vation hereafter. Give man a sufficiency, so that his higher intel- lectual powers and sentiments will not be deadened by poverty and anxiety; develop his intelligence that internal light which God has given him to direct him rightly; take temptations and pitfalls out of his path, and will he not move on more up- rightly and nobly in his earthly career, and be much more likely to obtain salvation,if acts and deeds can obtain it,than if he is plunged in poverty, forced into vice and crime, from ignorance, or circumstances which he cannot combat ?.~jf his bigher facul- ties and sentiments are smothered, and his sensual tendencies only called out; and if, in short, bis mind is uncultivated, so that he is left to move on amidst the thousand shoals and perils of our false societies, without any high moral and intellectual de- velopment to guide him, and to counteract tempting circum- stances without, and perverted passions within ~ There can be no doubt of it; and true religion, as well as enlightened reason, pleads for a social reform, nnd prompts us to labor for the organ- ization of a true social order. I shall lay before the readers of the Dem6cratic Review the plan of a social organization, which, I feel confident, will do away with a vast amount of the misery which now exists, and secure the social elevation of the mass. I call the attention of reflecting minds to this subject, and request them to devote to it that serious exa- mination which it merits. The system discovered by Founrux differs entirely from all those which have heretofore been pro- posed; it has not the least affinity with or relation to that of Owen, the Shakers, IRappites, or any other of which the public has an idea. It is a comprehensive, and noble system, which is not the arbitrary plan or scheme of an individual, but is deduced from certain great moral and intellectual laws, by which its truth can be proved. 1842.] and attractive Industry. 43 To do away with some prejudices which may exist in the mind of the reader, I will state explicitly 1. That the religious sentiment will be not only maintained, but nobly developed. It is now nearly smothered by misery and anxiety in the minds of the mass, and is degraded by sectarian dissensions. We wish Christianity; but we wish it felt and un- derstood by enlightened minds. 2. That the family tie and marriage will be preserved. They are now, in a vast number of cases, sadly smothered and de- graded by poverty, brutality, drunkenness, vice, and crime. How can ties of so delicate a nature exist with purity in a society which is full of misery, ignorance, and degradation l We do not wish to change the family sentiment, but we wish to change the circumstances which surround it. 3. That no community of property will exist. In the system which I shall explain in my future articles, individual property will not only be maintained, but the means of acquiring it will be extended to every member of society female as well as male. In our present societies, not one person out of ten if we in- clude women possess any property in their own right, and this is the cause of that revolting tyranny of the individual over the individual, which at present so generally exists. People cling, and rightly so, to the principle of individual property; but they do not see that it exists in theory, not in practice: that the Mass possess no individual property. The wealth of society is absorbed by a few, who make often the most oppressive and re- prehensible uses of it. The reform which we contemplate will embrace the following departments of society: The system of Industry, or mode of prosecuting agriculture, manufactures, and mechanics. The system of Commerce. The system of Education. The system of Isolated Households,which assigns to each family a separate dwelling, and a separate interest in society. The departments of society, which are true in their nature, and require no reform, but merely a true and noble development, are, The Religious Sentiment, and its external manifestation Worship. The Marriage Institution. The principle of Individual Property. That element or institution of the present social order to which men will no doubt cling with the greatest tenacity, is the Isolated Household. It must, however, be reformed, and Asso- ciation must be substituted in its place. The isolated household 44~ On ~1ssociation and .flttractive Industry. [January, is the fundamental cause of our present false and repugnant sys- tem of industry; it leads to waste, to discord and antipathy, to opposition of interests and envious competition, to quarrels and litigations, to an anti-social spirit, to a conflict of the individual with the public good, to a miserable system of agriculture, and to universal selfishness. We will explain a system of association, by means of which, isolated and separate families can be induced to unite and asso- ciate; in which unity of interests and concert of action can be introduced; an equitable division of profits, according to labor, capital, and skill, established; industry rendered honorable and ATTRACTIVE; individual rights and liberty vastly extended; the product of industry increased six or eight fold; the tyranny of Capital over Labor restricted; the monopolies, adulterations, enormous intermediate profits, and other frauds and extortions of commerce prevented; unity between the individual and the collective good, and general confidence attained; a practical and scientific education guarantied to the child; agreeable and varied occupations opened to all; and an abundance secured to every member of society. Such are some of the results which 1 can promise from the system of Association which I shall explain in future articles. Will our leading politicians, and those who take an interest in the social elevation of man, give their attention to the subject, and examine our new social principles l The world, we know. is full of petty schemes and plans of reform, of low party strife, and of selfish personal ambition, which divert mens minds from a subject so vast and general as a reorganization of society; but let us hope that there are some minds which will feel its impor- tance, and be willing to lend it their aid. The world wants a social reform; not superficial, political, and administrative changes, which lead to no results. The suffering mass plead for an abatement of their misery, plead for relief from the poverty, and harassing cares and anxieties which crush them to the earth. Will they be heard ?~ Are there no noble souls which can ab- stract themselves from the din and interests of parties, and be- come penetrated with a true and profound feeling for the greatest and noblest of undertakings the elevation, happiness, and dig- nity of the poor, the low, and down-trodden portion of the hu- man family l If there are, let them not be stopped or discour- aged by the opposition or ridicule of those common-place minds, which, steeped in the selfishness, contracted spirit, cold-hearted indifference, and animosities of society, are mere repeaters and echoes of its shallow policy, its false wisdom, its individualism, and its selfish precepts for individual conduct. 1842.] 45 A MONODY. BY CHARLES T. CONGD0N. As every heart its secret sorrow knoweth, So each doth cherish, in its inmost shrine, A hidden spring, whence consolation floweth, Not all unmixed half earthly, half divine. From it comes gladness that neer gives a sign Of its existence to the world around, But sadly sooths us, when our spirits pine, For joys that did in by-gone days abound, Joys that Youth lost, and Manhood has not found, We love the memory still that bids us sigh Nor from its saddest paintings turn away, Though tears our gaze may blind we know not why, We laugh, we weep yet still must we obey The promptings, that now shed a sunny ray Oer the dark desert round us, and now spread A gloomier shade upon our starless way, And now we sit us down and weep the dead, Now join the laughing choir by wine-crowned Bacchus led. The tuneful revel and the wildering dance Once more before the gladdened sight appear; Lip meeteth lip, glance answereth unto glance, And the loved lost, whom sorrows useless tear Called not to life again, again are near; The winged hours once more go smiling by, And flowers are twined around Times temples sere; Throbs each warm heart and flashes every eye, While sweet-voiced beauty fills the rose-wreathed beaker high. Tis past ! vanished the glittering scene! for Death Shakes his dark arrow mid that jocund throng, And flowers are withering in his rank cold breath The knell our music, and the groan our song. Skeleton-archer! grim as thou art strong! Who bade thee waste thy skill unerring here? Away, to those whove sought thy presence long Aim at the aged! stretch upon the bier Those who will greet thy blow without or sigh or tear! Ha, thou art nice! gray, palsied, doting age Thou. leavst to mock us still with lifes decay, As if to teach us, though we shun thy rage, Thy partner Time hath quite as sure a way To work our ruin ; tis thy joy to lay Thy fleshless hand upon unwrinkled brows; The very pastime of thy wanton sway

1842.] 45 A MONODY. BY CHARLES T. CONGD0N. As every heart its secret sorrow knoweth, So each doth cherish, in its inmost shrine, A hidden spring, whence consolation floweth, Not all unmixed half earthly, half divine. From it comes gladness that neer gives a sign Of its existence to the world around, But sadly sooths us, when our spirits pine, For joys that did in by-gone days abound, Joys that Youth lost, and Manhood has not found, We love the memory still that bids us sigh Nor from its saddest paintings turn away, Though tears our gaze may blind we know not why, We laugh, we weep yet still must we obey The promptings, that now shed a sunny ray Oer the dark desert round us, and now spread A gloomier shade upon our starless way, And now we sit us down and weep the dead, Now join the laughing choir by wine-crowned Bacchus led. The tuneful revel and the wildering dance Once more before the gladdened sight appear; Lip meeteth lip, glance answereth unto glance, And the loved lost, whom sorrows useless tear Called not to life again, again are near; The winged hours once more go smiling by, And flowers are twined around Times temples sere; Throbs each warm heart and flashes every eye, While sweet-voiced beauty fills the rose-wreathed beaker high. Tis past ! vanished the glittering scene! for Death Shakes his dark arrow mid that jocund throng, And flowers are withering in his rank cold breath The knell our music, and the groan our song. Skeleton-archer! grim as thou art strong! Who bade thee waste thy skill unerring here? Away, to those whove sought thy presence long Aim at the aged! stretch upon the bier Those who will greet thy blow without or sigh or tear! Ha, thou art nice! gray, palsied, doting age Thou. leavst to mock us still with lifes decay, As if to teach us, though we shun thy rage, Thy partner Time hath quite as sure a way To work our ruin ; tis thy joy to lay Thy fleshless hand upon unwrinkled brows; The very pastime of thy wanton sway 46 .11 .Monody. [January, To strike down those whom Fate some joy allows, And young lifes radiant pride first in the grave to house. If a kind heart, that bled at every wo; A soul as glorious as the star-gemmed sky A form as proud as walked the heavens below; A mind tbat could upon itself rely, True in its balance, in its purpose high; And manners winning as a womans; truth Pure as a vestals holy chastity, And the rich promise of ingenuous youth, Could have availed thee aught, gainst Deaths marauding ruth; Thou hadst not died, my lost, my sainted friend! Nor I been called in wo to bend oer thee, And marvel much that agony could rend, In lifes last strife, thy wasted effigy, Nor had I trembled fearfully to see Thy loved face covered by the coffin-lid, Nor almost prayed that I might cease to be, As the dull clod and shelving gravel slid Into the narrow grave, that thee for ever hid! Not since that day have I found one to love, Nor one whom I might ask again to share The wants and hopes that might my spirit move, My faults to chide with chiding I could bear: Ah me! the golden days were passing fair We spent together in the solitude Of our united hopes and common care When we would oer the self-same sorrow brood, And by loves sympathy the sorrow still elude. I read the volumes we together read The wit we loved, the wisdom wed admire But ah! I think not now, since thou art dead, The sage so wise, nor half so sweet the lyre; The song fires not that once our souls could fire; lit wanteth something now perchance thy voice, Chanting, melodious as an angel choir, With tones all musical and cadence choice, The strains that bade us weep, burn, muse, hope, or rejoice. With the full strength of those most trustful hours, I clung to thee, nor felt that thou couldst die! I loved with that strong faith that eer oerpowers All fear or thought of future misery: The present was enough for me, and I Deemed, while near thee, the days that had begun So cloudless, still must hold their cloudless sky But oh, too soon thy lifes bright sands were run! One friend was called away, and nigh heart-broken one! 1842.] 47 THE LEGISLATURES OF THE PRESENT YEAR. WHEN the result of the late Presidential election was known, the Democratic party seemed, as if by common consent, to agree upon the necessity of a more particular attention to the local af- fairs of the States themselves. It was evident that, after all, no great harm could be done by the Whig powers at Washington, under the restraints of a good constitution, and the immediate prospect of disunion among their own leaders. The Democratic members of Congress stood to their arms during the Extra Ses- sion, said little, showed no disposition to throw unnecessary obstacles in the way of the Administration, though they rallied with splendid and overpowering ability of argument and eloquence in defence of the Constitution itself whenever it was attacked. The sound policy of this mode of proceeding has been thorough- ly proved. Every State in succession now wheels into the Dem- ocratic phalanx, under the guidance of that good common sense on which we must rely for the preservation of a good government and our liberties. High responsibilities now devolve on the legislatures of all these States. Of the mode in which these should be discharged, with special reference to one of the most impor- tant branches of their duties, we shall perhaps best convey our ideas by confining our view to one of them, the first in popula- tion, wealth, and influencethe Empire State of New York. In our own State we are again in the ascendency, and there is no reason to question the good effects of a temporary absence from power. Parties, like men, learn much in adversity that is useful to them. One of the causes which lost us the control of affairs in this State is now obvious to every one. It was that system of log- rolling, by which the support of every local interest was bargained for by our Legislature, at the expense of the general good. It became so universally the groundwork of every practice in legis- lation, not only in New York, but in every internal improvement State, that it would seem to have been the only system adapted to the habits and circumstances of the time. Allied as it was to the extension of a vast paper-money engine, then in the zenith of its power, it was impossible to withstand it, and both parties for a time vied with each other in their encouragement of the practice. But the times are changed. Their habits and circumstances no longer remain as they were during the existence of a great mon- eyed institution, used for purposes of fraud and corruption, and opposed by a host of smaller ones, which attempted to control it

1842.] 47 THE LEGISLATURES OF THE PRESENT YEAR. WHEN the result of the late Presidential election was known, the Democratic party seemed, as if by common consent, to agree upon the necessity of a more particular attention to the local af- fairs of the States themselves. It was evident that, after all, no great harm could be done by the Whig powers at Washington, under the restraints of a good constitution, and the immediate prospect of disunion among their own leaders. The Democratic members of Congress stood to their arms during the Extra Ses- sion, said little, showed no disposition to throw unnecessary obstacles in the way of the Administration, though they rallied with splendid and overpowering ability of argument and eloquence in defence of the Constitution itself whenever it was attacked. The sound policy of this mode of proceeding has been thorough- ly proved. Every State in succession now wheels into the Dem- ocratic phalanx, under the guidance of that good common sense on which we must rely for the preservation of a good government and our liberties. High responsibilities now devolve on the legislatures of all these States. Of the mode in which these should be discharged, with special reference to one of the most impor- tant branches of their duties, we shall perhaps best convey our ideas by confining our view to one of them, the first in popula- tion, wealth, and influencethe Empire State of New York. In our own State we are again in the ascendency, and there is no reason to question the good effects of a temporary absence from power. Parties, like men, learn much in adversity that is useful to them. One of the causes which lost us the control of affairs in this State is now obvious to every one. It was that system of log- rolling, by which the support of every local interest was bargained for by our Legislature, at the expense of the general good. It became so universally the groundwork of every practice in legis- lation, not only in New York, but in every internal improvement State, that it would seem to have been the only system adapted to the habits and circumstances of the time. Allied as it was to the extension of a vast paper-money engine, then in the zenith of its power, it was impossible to withstand it, and both parties for a time vied with each other in their encouragement of the practice. But the times are changed. Their habits and circumstances no longer remain as they were during the existence of a great mon- eyed institution, used for purposes of fraud and corruption, and opposed by a host of smaller ones, which attempted to control it 48 The Legislatures [January, by the use of similar means. It is not probable, now, that a log- rolling system would be practicable, even if there existed the dis- position to put it again in practice. The State is without means or credit to warrant even the conception of schemes which should operate upon all its parts by appeals to the cupidity of each. A financial report modelled upon the plan of a Law, or a Biddle, or a Ruggles, would fall to the ground without believers or even read- ers. The community has been so effectually roused from its past delusions, and has been taught such a bitter lesson from experi- ence, that Humbug must find some newer expedient to practise with any success upon its credulity. The example of Pennsylvania is close at hand. A sovereignty possessed of vast resources, much real wealth, a frugal and indus- trious population, and a name and reputation, is beggared and re- duced to the position of one of the half-civilized nations of South America. Banks and internal improvement have brought her to this degradation. Men living without labor, or without other ex- ertion than that used in contriving schemes for the employment of paper money instead of real wealth, controlled everything. The homely maxims of Poor Richard were forgotten. Fashion, by which is meant more than the capricious power which gov- erns modes of dress, or manners, or social usagesfashion put plain, slow-paced honesty aside, and enabled cunning to take her place. There was a time, when to doubt the policy of underta- king a great work, until one was enabled to count the cost, was to pronounce ones-self a laggard in patriotism and enterprise. To question the utility of a grand canal which would not pay to keep itself at work, was called a narrow-minded ignorance. And to urge the possibility of the commonwealth being driven into dis- honest but necessary bankruptcy, was denounced as the malig- nity of Loco-Focoism. Still the bankruptcy has approached al- ready dangerously near: and the sober second-thought of the people in this State will not disregard the warning. It is, after all, a question between the two old antagonist princi- ples of government. On the one hand that portion who disbe- lieve in the capability of men for self-government, who regard the ability to overreach others by any exertion of intellect as a legitimate exercise of human ingenuity, and who look with contempt on all slow, patient, and honest toil, will tell us that ways and means may be devised by which all our grand projects may be carried on without embarrassment. The debt may be shoved off one generation more, or the people may be taxed so as not to perceive it, or the mechanic may be made to contribute his mite while the capitalist reaps his harvest. All these and many more 1842.] of the Present Year. 49 things will be promised. Our financiers will not spare their wit, nor their eloquence, nor their pens, to prove to. us that two and two can be made to produce five. All the interests which have grown up under the past abuses will be active in their exertions to maintain an existence. There will be appeals without number to conservatism, to the necessity of maintaining existing contracts, of conciliating vacillating political interests, and to the love of a show of patriotic enterprise at other peoples expense. On the other hand, they who rest their faith upon the broader and surer basis of truth and honesty, whose keener vision goes beyond the limits of the day or year, who prefer the integrity of their country to its seeming prosperity, will ask and demand a change of policy in conformity with these immutable principles, as well as with the exigences of the times. To arrest all useless schemes, to establish the credit of the State, to ensure ourselves a release from increasing obligations which we cannot fulfil, and to leave to a future generation a state of affairs untrammelled and within their own control, is so imperatively the duty of all concerned, as to leave no doubt of its fulfilment. By the one system, it is true, the legislator has the effects of the exercise of his power often within his reach. He provides a bank for a knot of political friends, or a canal for a particular interest, or a place for an adherent, or a local improvement for his own estate. And these are sins easily forgiven. To know how to commit them well, is often thought a proof of ability and a title to distinction. But such men are naturally most jealous of each other, and if, as now is undeniably the case, the loaves and fishes are too few for a division, they will hardly attempt to make them sufficient by a miracle. An honest legislation has none of these allurements to offer. The immediate effect of an economical administration of affairs is injurious to all who thrive by the profligate expenditure of the States money. Local interests are wounded. Many good and honest men are threatened with loss of employment and the means of support. The good resulting from this is remote and general; and the legislator, when called on to pronounce a decision, is re- luctant to appear to do evil that good may come. But, sooner or later, a remedy becomes necessary: and it is very certain that, to postpone the evil, only renders the matter more difficult of cure. Perhaps a half-century may pass before as fa- vorable a time presents itself again for the adoption of a radical and efficient change of policy. At the commencement of the ses- sion of the ensuing legislature of this State, there will be a current debt of some two and a half millions to be provided for, outstanding VOL. X., No. XLIII. 7 50 The Legislatures of the Present Year. [January, contracts to the amount of seven millions more, and a prospec- tive debt of fifteen millions for the completion of the enlargement of the Erie Canal. Here is debt enough to contemplate for any one but a financier of the Whig school, whose very element is an atmosphere of debt, without even regarding the lateral canals, and the great Northern and Southern Rail Roads. Of the $7,000,000 said to be under contract, much can probably be set aside with- out violation of faith, or injustice to any party cortcerned. And the rest may be all promptly arranged to the satisfaction of all who have claims to equitable relief. Let it once be understood that the State, under prudent and honest management, is deter- mined at all hazards not to go beyond her means, and the neces- sity of the case will soon bring out the mode of carrying her will into execution by direct taxation rather than by the use of credit, if necessary, according to the views already sufficiently stated in a former article of our present Number. It requires courage and firmness of purpose. And these qualities are not, we trust, to be looked for in vain in a Democratic Legislature. Besides these considerations, drawn from the exigency of the occasion, there are others which, were measures of public policy governed by motives of pure integrity and stern morality, would be irresistible. Nothing tends to corrupt the honesty of each member of a community, to sap the very foundations of justice and truth, to destroy all faith in the honesty of mankind, to in- culcate a belief in the maxim of Talleyrand, that language was given to man to conceal his thoughts, and to convert civil socie- ty into an arena for the exercise of cunning and deceit, more than the practice of a government upon a dishonest creed. Reck- less men say it matters little what a future generation may re- ceive from the hands of the present. Bad men openly advocate the use of all present means and credit, to the utter disregard of those who are to come after us. The public purse is fair plunder, according to their maxim, because, say they, if we do not plun- der it others will. All this disorganizes society, impairs true credit, and checks legitimate business, for it destroys the confi- dence of mankind among themselves. Your Loco Foco legisla- tors will be no better than ours, say the Whigs. They will need the use of the public money as much as we did. And it must be admitted with regret, there are those, among our ranks, too powerful both in numbers and the habitual tact of party man.. agement, who believe and practise on the same doctrine. Will the legislatures of 1842, the representatives of the sober second..thought, merit this imputation, or will they give the lie to it by a bold and determined policy, decided in character, and 1842.] The Dying Plower. marked as the very opposite of that which the Whigs claim ex- clusively as their own ?j Will they bring thrift and a jealous re- gard for the public faith again into fashion l Will they condemn all speculative schemes of crafty financiers l Will they take the true interests of the State at once in hand, and before it is too late, seek to save~her from the fate of Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, and Pennsylvania ? These are questions which a few months will solve, and there is little reason to doubt their solution in the right shape. A just regard for the slow but sure development of our resources, and the welfare and continuance of the republic, demands it too im- peratively to be disregarded by the honest representatives of the people. THE DYING FLOWER. SWEET flower, which from thy native shade Gladly I plucked, an hour agone, And straight loves votive offering made, Why seemst thou now to droop and mourn? Upon the fairest bosom lying, What means thy silent sighing? I bloomed in the seclusion wild Of Natures loveliest retreats, A tender bud, a cherished child, A hidden urn of sacred sweets, Ungentle was the hand that tore me From the kind breast that bore me! I feel the breath of human life, This wondrous pulse that beats within, Of one who seeks, with douhtful4strife, A dim and distant goal to win, Sadly the captive heart is sighing, And with it I am dying. Yes, tho~i must die, my beauteous flower, But in the heart which thou hast blest, Thy shade, in sad and joyful hour, Like a beloved friend shall rest, Thus shalt thou better life inherit, With the undying spirit. * **

1842.] The Dying Plower. marked as the very opposite of that which the Whigs claim ex- clusively as their own ?j Will they bring thrift and a jealous re- gard for the public faith again into fashion l Will they condemn all speculative schemes of crafty financiers l Will they take the true interests of the State at once in hand, and before it is too late, seek to save~her from the fate of Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, and Pennsylvania ? These are questions which a few months will solve, and there is little reason to doubt their solution in the right shape. A just regard for the slow but sure development of our resources, and the welfare and continuance of the republic, demands it too im- peratively to be disregarded by the honest representatives of the people. THE DYING FLOWER. SWEET flower, which from thy native shade Gladly I plucked, an hour agone, And straight loves votive offering made, Why seemst thou now to droop and mourn? Upon the fairest bosom lying, What means thy silent sighing? I bloomed in the seclusion wild Of Natures loveliest retreats, A tender bud, a cherished child, A hidden urn of sacred sweets, Ungentle was the hand that tore me From the kind breast that bore me! I feel the breath of human life, This wondrous pulse that beats within, Of one who seeks, with douhtful4strife, A dim and distant goal to win, Sadly the captive heart is sighing, And with it I am dying. Yes, tho~i must die, my beauteous flower, But in the heart which thou hast blest, Thy shade, in sad and joyful hour, Like a beloved friend shall rest, Thus shalt thou better life inherit, With the undying spirit. * ** 52 [January, JOURNALISM. MR. CARLYLE, in his rhapsodical but striking way, has given this passage: Great is Journalism. Is not every able editor a ruler of the world, being a persuader of it: though self-elected, yet sanctioned by the sale of his numbers l Whom indeed the world has the readiest method of deposing, should need be; that of merely doing nothing to him; which ends in starvation. Again, says the same original writer: There is no church, say- est thou l The voice of prophecy has gone dumb! This is even what I dispute; but, in any case, hast thou not still preaching enough ? A preaching friar settles himself in every village : and builds a pulpit, which he calls newspaper. Therefrom he preaches what most momentous doctrine is in him, for mans salvation; and dost not thou listen and believe ~~ We cite these passages, because they recognise an important fact, the fact that Journalism is a distinct and lofty profession, exercising an influence over society like that of the king over his subjects, or the preacher over his hearers. As much as has been said of the power of the I)ress, it is a power that has never yet been measured. Let us, then, detain the reader ~vith a remark or two upon the functions of editorship, and the place it holds among the moral agencies of the world. No man requires a larger ranger of intellect, more varied ac- quirements, or greater strength of character, than the conductor of a public journal. Of course, we allude to one who acts with a full sense of the dignity and worth of his calling, and in the con- scientious desire to discharge its duties. Neither statesman, lawyer, nor divine, moves in a more extended sphere, or has more occasion for the use of the noblest faculties both of mind and heart. He stands in immediate contact with the public mind. He furnishes the intellectual alirnent of the people. He gives a tone to public sentiment; is a leadef of public opinion; and the guar- dian and guide of public morals. Thousands of men, each morn- ing and evening, listen to his voice, are moved by his persuasions, are corrected by his rebukes, or corrupted by his license. The characters of men are in some degree placed in his hands. He may elevate the bad, or traduce the good. Ite can stimuhde the worst passions of inflamed times, or give an impulse to wise and beneficent movements. This influence differs from that of others who operate upon the public mind, in that, while theirs is confined to particular and distant occasions, his acts incessantly. The orator agitates only while he is speaking; the preacher is hemmed

52 [January, JOURNALISM. MR. CARLYLE, in his rhapsodical but striking way, has given this passage: Great is Journalism. Is not every able editor a ruler of the world, being a persuader of it: though self-elected, yet sanctioned by the sale of his numbers l Whom indeed the world has the readiest method of deposing, should need be; that of merely doing nothing to him; which ends in starvation. Again, says the same original writer: There is no church, say- est thou l The voice of prophecy has gone dumb! This is even what I dispute; but, in any case, hast thou not still preaching enough ? A preaching friar settles himself in every village : and builds a pulpit, which he calls newspaper. Therefrom he preaches what most momentous doctrine is in him, for mans salvation; and dost not thou listen and believe ~~ We cite these passages, because they recognise an important fact, the fact that Journalism is a distinct and lofty profession, exercising an influence over society like that of the king over his subjects, or the preacher over his hearers. As much as has been said of the power of the I)ress, it is a power that has never yet been measured. Let us, then, detain the reader ~vith a remark or two upon the functions of editorship, and the place it holds among the moral agencies of the world. No man requires a larger ranger of intellect, more varied ac- quirements, or greater strength of character, than the conductor of a public journal. Of course, we allude to one who acts with a full sense of the dignity and worth of his calling, and in the con- scientious desire to discharge its duties. Neither statesman, lawyer, nor divine, moves in a more extended sphere, or has more occasion for the use of the noblest faculties both of mind and heart. He stands in immediate contact with the public mind. He furnishes the intellectual alirnent of the people. He gives a tone to public sentiment; is a leadef of public opinion; and the guar- dian and guide of public morals. Thousands of men, each morn- ing and evening, listen to his voice, are moved by his persuasions, are corrected by his rebukes, or corrupted by his license. The characters of men are in some degree placed in his hands. He may elevate the bad, or traduce the good. Ite can stimuhde the worst passions of inflamed times, or give an impulse to wise and beneficent movements. This influence differs from that of others who operate upon the public mind, in that, while theirs is confined to particular and distant occasions, his acts incessantly. The orator agitates only while he is speaking; the preacher is hemmed 1842.] Journalism. 53 in by the walls of his church and the limits of a Sabbath-day; the statesman seldom steps out of his bureau; the man of science is fixed among his retorts and crucibles; and tbe teacher has an existence only in his school-room. But the editor is perpetually at work. As the mails carry his speculations from one city to another, and from one state to another, his action spreads like the waves of a pool, in concentric circles, and before the last ripple has subsided, the waters at the centre are again disturbed. Even while he sleeps, his thoughts are awake, they are diffusing good or evil, they are entering other minds, to mould them to a better or worse condition. They rest not, stay not, on, still on they wing Their fli,ht and whether benign or pestiferous, are producing their inevitable impressions. Give me, is a frequent saying, the making of the songs of a people, and I will make their characters ; can it not be said, with equal propriety, Give me the making of the newspapers of a nation, and I will make its minds. The newspaper is every- where, in the counting-house and in the parlor, in the bar-room and in the bed-room, on board of the steamboat and in the students chamber. All subjects are discussed in it; all classes of men read it; and all men, to an extent, are affected by what it contains. Na- poleon, with a sagacity which characterized nearly all the actions of his life, understood this power, when, as First Consul of France, be wished to add to the title of Chief Captain of the age, that of its leading journalist. Like Richelien, be felt that in the hands of men, entirely great, the purse is mightier than the sword. To discharge fully the duties of a public journalist, says one* who was so near an illustration of his own remarks that our only regrct is, that he did not live long enough to complete it, to discharge fully the duties of a public journalist, would be to elevate the vocation to the loftiest summit of human dignity and usefulness. A public journalist, animated with a due sense of the obligations of his responsible trust, and gifted with the faculties, intellectual and physical, for their adequate performance, would well deserve to be a public leader in a more extended sig- nification of the phrase than that in which it is understood. He should have a mind filled with a great variety of human learning, and a ready command of all its stores. He should have a bead cool, clear, and sagacious; a heart warm and benevolent; a nice sense of justice; honesty that no temptation could corrupt; in- William Leggett. 54F Journalism. [January, trepidity that no danger could intimidate; and independence su- perior to every consideration of mere interest, enmity, or friend- ship. He should possess the power of diligent application, and be capable of enduring great fatigue. He should have a temper- ament so happily mingled, that while he easily kindled at public error or injustice, his indignation should never transgress the bounds of judgment, but, in its strongest expression, show that smoothness and amenity which the language of choler always lacks. He should, in short, be such a man as a contemporary writer described that sturdy democrat, old Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun a gentleman, steady in his principles; of nice hon- or; abundance of learning; brave as the sword he wears, and bold as a lion; a sure friend and irreconcileable enemy; who would lose his life readily to serve his country, and would not do a base thing to save it. This is the beau ideal of a conductor of a public newspaper. But it is an ideal that, like most of the ideals of men of ardent temperament, it will take a long time to realize. Whoever will east his eye over the newspaper-press, not of this country, but of Christendom, will find that not in a solitary instance has there a man arisen, who has arrived at the high character that pertains to the profession. The same remark, it is true, may be made of every other profession; but it is particularly true in regard to editorship~ There have been divines to whom Cowpers beautiful description of St. Paul might well be applied; there have been Fletchers, Halls, Brainards, and Channings; there have been Mansfields, Romillys, and Marshalls, in law; Garricks, Siddons, Kerables, and Talmas, as actors; there have been Boerhaves, Jenners, Goods, and Bells, in physic; there have been Boyles, Newtons, and Bacons, in science; and Cresars, Bonapartes, and Washingtons, in war; in short, in all departments of intellectual exertion there have been crowds of notable men; but nowhere on the lists of great or distinguished persons do we find the name of one whose celebrity has been acquired in the walk of the Jour- nalist. Carrel has produced an impression in France, Fonblanque in England, and Leggett in the United States, but it has been an impression as fleeting as that of leaves driven by the wind. How are we to account for this extraordinary fact l Why is it that a vehicle so intimately connected with human happiness as the press, so powerful over social issues and human destinies, has so seldom been desired by men of the loftiest endowments l This is a great inquiry, and we shall reply to it briefly. First; it is not that the sphere of the Journalist is too con- tracted for a noble ambition; for it isa sphere as wide as the 184~.] Journalism. 55 universe of intelligence, and as permanent as language. As a means of swaying the minds of men, which is the essence of pow- er, as an instrument for elevating society, which is the object of goodness, as a vehicle for the expression and enforcement of thought, it is without an equal among all the constituted agencies of human utterance. No voice reaches so far as the voice of the press, no book arrests a wider attention, or penetrates a deeper retirement than the newspaper. Secondly, it is not because the subjects with which newspaper writing is mostly occupied, are temporary and incidental. That species of composition is not confined to chronicling events as they arise, to recording the incidents of the day, or to fighting the bat- tles of transient parties. Higher objects often engage it. The instructing of society in the nature of government, the inculca- ting of great principles, the application of judicious criticism, the development and controlling of social tendencies, the direction of public opinion, the exposition of public characters, the prosecu- tion of grand moral reforms, and the correction of prevailing in- iquities and frauds, are among its principal functions. The editor is stationed, as a sentinel upon the watch-towers of society, to warn it of the approach of dangers; to summon it to battle, and to cheer it on to success. Thirdly, it is not because the organization of the press is such as to cripple its activity and arrest its influence. No better organ- ization could be required for it than is established in this country. It is founded on a basis of perfect freedom. That liberty of ac- tion, which it is the aim of the democratic doctrine to introduce into all kinds of business, it has enjoyed from the beginning. Government has never dared to impose a restraint upon it: it has been open to every variety of ability: it has been exposed to the stimulus of competition: it has received favor by all political parties. Whoever may have conceived that he possessed talent enough to undertake a public journal, has been at liberty to do so, and he has had the opportunity of displaying all the enthusiasm and talent that he coul~d bring to the task. No censorship nor re- straint, save those of public opinion, have tended to impede the full and free development of the energies of Journalism. We must look elsewhere for the causes of the singular ract to which we refer. We must look to journalists themselves, and es~ pecially to the community in which they live. It is because so low a standard has been established in regard to the efforts of editors, that so few men of the strongest intellect and character have desired it,that they have sought distinction in other vocations, less influential, but supposed to be more honorable. It is because 56 Journalism. [January, society has not required more, that more has not beea done. Its treatment of journalists has been singularly unhappy. They are what it has made them; they fall short of the lofty dignity of their station, because society has fallen short in its demands. Johnson, in his prologue, says that those who live to please, must please to live. This has unfortunately been the case with the press. It has been regarded as a mere agent for pleasing so- ciety, and therefore it has aspired to no higher function. It has failed to perceive its real nature; it has failed in asserting its claims; it has failed in discharging its duties as an instructer; it has failed in becoming the moral power of tremendous force of which it is capable. But its conductors are n ot so much to blame for this, as its patrons, as they are called, the public. True, it has been courted by some, and feared by otherscourted by the am- bitious and feared by the timid: yet, while courted and feared, it has been neglected and despised. Very little discrimination has marked the public judgment of its character. So long as it could be made to administer to prevailing prejudices, so long as it could be turned to the purposes of party, so long as it lent itself to the cause of demagogues, so long and no longer has it met with fa- vor. Discerning, genuine, and hearty approbation for indepen- dence, integrity, and talent, it has seldom received. A sort of double and inconsistent conduct has been expected of editors. While they have been solicited to furnish aid to all kinds of par- tial schemes, they have been blamed for a want of fidelity to principle; while the whole strength of immense parties is brought to bear upon then-i to secure their aid or crush their opposition, they have been derided for suppleness of purpose and pliancy of doctrine; while every man who has an object to accomplish, besets them with seductions, aud promises of reward, they have been scorned for venality and time-serving. A high, unvarying moral test has never been applied to them. When a man of lofty faith and stern virtue has arisen among them, when he has manifested a disposition to discuss questions in the light of great principles~ when he has refused to listen to the whispers or move at the beck of cliques and factions, when he has regarded politics as the most important aspect of morals, and sought to acquit himself of the duties of his calling, with a nice regard to truth and con- science, how has he been received by the community ~ As a worthy, noble, fearless man ~ As a patriot who deserved ~vell of his country ~ As a Christian filled with a strong sense of the re.- sponaibilities of human existence ~ Far otherwise. Hostility and contempt often have been his sole rewards. His professed friends have dropped away from him; his enemies have redoub 1842.] Journalism. 57 led and sharpened their abuse; a strong public opinion is aroused against him; and the end of it is, that he is compelled, from the want of support, to relinquish his pursuit, and seek in some other less congenial employment, the means of subsistence and profit. Can we forget the career of the lamented Leggett l There was a man, who, during one of the most excited and interesting peri- ods of our political experience, pursued a line of determined and intrepid honesty. A course of corrupt legislation, openly de- fended by one party, and connived at by a large portion of the other, had fastened upon the people a system of finance and banking, which was fast destroying their liberties and morals. The firm old soldier-statesman, who was then the President, more sagacious than many of his supporters, more honest than any of his opponents, had given the first blow in a work of revolution. After a long and desperate contest, he succeeded. Yet it was only a partial success. Mr. Leggett, who had stood side by side with him in this most trying position of the fight, saw, even in the moment of victory, that the triumph was not completely achiev- ed. The enemy, who had been overcome by the energies of the General Government, was acting in his strength under the protec- tion of nearly all the individual States. That enemy, he conceiv- ed, was to be attacked in his strong-holds there; instant to his convictions of duty, he began a vigorous assault; neither timid- ity on one hand, nor persecution on the other, could induce him to soften his ponderous blows; day after day, he aroused the public mind with discussions full of strong thought and eloquent invec- tive. I cannot, said he, for the sake of a livelihood, trim my sails to suit the varying breeze of popular prejudice. With old Andrew Marvell, he continued, I prefer to scrape a blade- bone of cold mutton in defence of truth, to faring sumptuously at the cost of principle. And what was the result l Desertion and poverty for the timeto be followed, when he should be cold in his grave, with monumental honors and heartfelt eulogy. The fault, we repeat, is with the community. Not relishing a good king, they cannot complain if Providence sends them the log or the stork. What they pray for, that they receive. If their praise and money are showered upon those who pander to a depraved taste, they must expect depraved and worthless writers. But if they recognise the claims of a better order of men, such an order will immediately arise. There cannot be a demand, in this branch of political economy, without a supply. Let us then consider what should he the nature of that demand. 1. The community should require that their editors be intellec- VOL. X., No. XLIII. 8 58 Journalism. [January, tual men. By this is meant, that they should possess both power of thought and facility of expression. The first is needed because it is incumbent upon them to grapple with great questions; the second, because they are to make those questions plain to minds of every cast. No persons are more frequently called upon than they to give an opinion on important topics. It is, indeed, impossible to fix limits to the range of subjects which they are compelled to investigate and discuss. All that interests men as members of a social and political body, the measures of parties, the relations of nations, the merits of laws, the pretensions of science, the schemes of projectors, the movements of reformers, the char- acters of statesmen are, in their turn, themes of newspaper con- troversy and remark. Politics, international and municipal law, political economy, moral and social science, and the art of read- ing individual character, must be understood by the editor, and not only understood, but explained. He must have that clear insight into general principles, and that familiarity with details, which will enable him to speak of whatever he undertakes with clearness, originality, and decision. It is not enough that he have a skimming acquaintance with his subject, that he be able to talk glibly of it, or that he can declaim with an infinity of sounding phrases and empty periods. Topics are often sprungupon him with the suddenness of a surprise topics in which the hap- piness of immense numbers of people are involved. Many look to him for information and guidance. His faculties, fully pre- pared and rightly disciplined, must be at his command. He must stand ready, with argument, with illustration, with eloquence, to convince the doubting, to awaken the dull, to move the timid and inert, and to instruct and interest the more enlightened. Now, to do this effectually he must have been a patient thinker, a profound scholar, and a practised writer. He must have accom- plished his mind by the observation of mankind, by the reading of books, and by habits of quick and felicitous expression. He must, above all, be penetrated by that deep Christian philosophy which estimates all questions in their bearing upon the most ex- alted and permanent interests of human nature. 2. The community should require of their editors that they be firm and independent men. Force of will is no less necessary to them than greatness of thought. Few men have more temp- tations to fall into an expedient and vacillating course. Regard- ed by many, and often regarding themselves, as the mere hacks of party, or mere instruments of gratification to prevailing pas- sions, they are not expected to exhibit a lofty or fervent zeal in 184~2] Journalism. 59 the prosecution of a great cause. Like advocates paid by a client to carry a particular point, they are supposed to have ful- filled their obligations when they have made the worse appear the better side. In many instances, if they have succeeded in em- barrassing the adversary, if they have covered an opponent with the filth of abuse, if they have given a plausible aspect to a false- hood, if they have assisted a party in imposing upon credulous or ignorant people, if they have been faithful to the interes.ts of their employers, they are clapped upon the hcad as serviceable fellows, and rewarded with a double allowance of governmental or mercantile patronage. The notion that the press has a wor- thier destiny, seems hardly to cross their minds. That it should become a fountain of truth and moral influence; that an editor should take his stand upon some high and good principle, which he should assert boldly, in the face of all opposition; that he should strive to carry it out ~vith the earnestness of a missionary, with the self-denial of a martyr, despising as well the bribes of those who would seduce him, as the threats of those who would terrify him, acknowledging no allegiance to any power but justice, im- pressed with the awful sanctity of his vocation, and willing to face danger and death in the discharge of its duties, is an intrepidity which, we fear, to most of the managers of public journals, has seemed more like the wild dream of an enthusiast, than the practicable object of a sober, thinking man. Yet it is an end that has been, and may be attained. It is an end for which a solemn responsibility is laid upon them to strive. No less than this should society require them to be; nothing less than this can render them worthy of the trust which is committed to their administration. Emancipating themselves from the aurea catena which binds them, they must act with the valor of freemen; break- ing away from the jesses which confine them basely and slavish- ly to earth, they must learn to soar in the pure, clear region of free and energetic thought. 3. Journalists, again, must be required to imbue themselves with a just and Christian spirit. Nothing is more lamentablc in their history, than the unkind feelings and low aims which char- acterize their intercourse and efforts. We do not speak only of those flagrant violations of propriety common to the most degra- ded portions of the press. We speak of the puerility, the violence, and the want of justice, which even the most respectable journals occasionally exhibit; we speak of their proneness to distort and to exaggerate, their recklessness of fair-dealing, their want of candor, and their base subservience to particular classes. Indeed, ~o frequent have been their offences, that their dishonesty has 60 Journalism. [January, almost passed into a proverb. I only, said Jefferson, believe the advertisements of a newspaper ; to which another distin- guished man has added, and he ought not to have believed them. In this, no doubt, they magnified the deficiencies of the press, yet there was much ground for their remarks. He lies like a newspaper, would not be a far-fetched comparison. The instances of their departure from truthful fidelity are not so rare as to render it slanderous to accuse them of positive falsehood. We are aware that it is urged in extenuation, that much of their sbort-coming is to be ascribed to the circumstances of haste and confusion under which daily editors write; we know it is alleged that in other pursuits, those of the law and merchandry for in- stance, the average honesty of those who follow them is not greater than that of journalists: but, with every wish to deal justly, we must say that a large amount of moral aberration re- mains against them which admits of no palliation or excuse. What, shall we be told, because a man writes in haste, that he must therefore write falsely l that because lawyers and mer- chants fall below the standard of virtue, therefore editors should be allowed to do the same, editors, whose influence is so much more extensive, whose duties are so much more importantl It is a shallow defence. Better that they relinquish their profession for ever, than sacrifice to it their integrity. Better that they drop the pen, and take up the axe or the hammer, than that they should wield the former only to sap and extinguish public morals! No! a more exalted morality should be required at their hands. When a man assumes a public station, to direct the opinions and form the characters of his contemporaries, when he voluntarily places himself in the attitude of a leader of the general mind, he should be compelled, by the force of public sentiment, to cherish habits of the strictest accuracy and honor. We demand of the preacher of the pulpit, that he should not degrade his office by inconsistencies of conduct; can we demand less of the preacher of the press l Should a Channing, or a Ilawkes, or a Dewey, or a Hughes, act in a manner derogatory to their sacred calling, would society forgive them l If a magistrate on the bench pollute the er- mine of justice, do we admit any apology for his venality or corrup- tion ~ Should a Taney, or a Story, or a Baldwin, or the meanest functionary of a county court, accept bribes from the parties to a suit, or be intimidated by popular clamor, swayed in his decisions by personal feeling, how could he avert degradation and disgrace l Could any circumstance of his position be pleaded in palliation of his crime l~ Why, then, should we excuse similar defections in those who occupy similar places, and whose truth, consistency, 184~2.] Journalism. 61 and justice, are even more necessary than theirs to the good or- der, virtue, and happiness of society l It is time that editors themselves, and that those who are accustomed to be affected by their counsels and judgments, should recognise the momentous responsibilities that hang upon their power. It is time that they perceive the elevation and might of their position. It is time that the former be prepared to throw aside the littleness and the baseness which they have too often indulged, and that the latter require a manlier and worthier performance than they have too often failed to exact. We cannot conceive of a more desirable life, than that of a pure, high-minded, amiable Christian editor, nor of a more virtuous, prosperous, and noble community, than one whose public agents shall reflect the unbending integrity, the spotless honors, and the wise benignity of their principals. Let us add a sentence or two in the conclusion of this matter. We have spoken freely of the present condition of the press: we have spoken with equal freedom of what it might become. It is with no spirit of uncharitableness that we have pointed to its failings: it is with a spirit of benevolence and hope that we have indicated its duty. We are sorry that some of our strictures are deserved, but we are glad to know that instances exist in which they are unjust. It gives us pleasure to acknowledge that within the last few years its character has greatly improved. Were it not invidious, we could show prints, which to the best of their ability have striven to realize the ideal which we have depicted. We could refer to a Bryant,whom as a man and a poet we revere,surrendering the applause that the world would ~villingly render to his great poetic talent and individual charac- ter, to become an example of the true, accomplished, unyielding editor ;to a Brownson, who prefers the name of a candid, fear- less writer, to the soft indulgences of clerical supremacy ;and to some others, still young and obscure, to whom the emoluments and honors of professional and political distinction have no blan- dishments, in comparison with those of becoming, as journalists, upright advocates of all that is good. But our object is not per- sonal. We have wished to rescue Journalism from its in fidelity to itself, and from the indifference and contempt of the public. We have wished to assert its claims, to vindicate its dignity, to exhort it to its duty. We rejoice to notice that young men of education and talent, who have been accustomed to crowd the professions of law, med- icine, and theology, are many of them directing their energies to the business of editorship and popular instruction. One of the best signs of the times is the growing demand for newspapers, 62 The Tomb-Blossoms. [January, cheap books, and literary and scientilic lectures. It is a sign that the love of knowledge is spreading through all classes; that the treasures of philosophy and poetry are no longer to be shut up in rare caskets, to be the possession of the few; that the general mind, too long satisfied with low and sensual delights, is seeking for higher aliment. The mass of men are availing themselves of the means of improvement which a condition of freedom furnish- es, and call for an increased number of instructers and guides. Many who are competent to the task, are answering the call. Already they constitute a considerable body. They are marching forward to scatter the seeds of good or evil. It is important that their movement take a right direction. Momentous consequences hang upon their action. If they are true to the cause of liberty, refinement, and progress, they can accomplish a world of good. If they are animated by the right spirit, they can give a tremen- dous impulse to the onward march of society. But if they fail, if they disregard their high responsibilities, deep and damning will be their guilt. THE TOMB-BLOSSOMS. nv WALTER WHITMAN. A PLEASANT, fair-sized country village,a village embosomed in trees, with old churches, one tavern, kept by a respectable widow, long, single-storied farm-houses, their roofs mossy, and their chimneys smoke black, a village with much grass, and shrubbery, and no mortar, nor bricks, nor pavements, nor gasno newness: that is the place for him who wishes life in its flavor and its bloom. Until of late, my residence has been in such a place. Man of cities! what is there in all your boasted pleasure your fashions, parties, balls, and theatres, compared to the sim- plest of the delights we country folk enjoy ~ Our pure air, ma- king the bloodswell and leap with buoyant health; our labor and our exercise; our freedom from the sickly vices that taint the town; our not being racked with notes due, or the fluctuations of prices, or the breaking of banks; our manners of sociality, expanding the heart, and reacting with a wholesome effect upon the body ;can anything which citizens possess balance these ~

62 The Tomb-Blossoms. [January, cheap books, and literary and scientilic lectures. It is a sign that the love of knowledge is spreading through all classes; that the treasures of philosophy and poetry are no longer to be shut up in rare caskets, to be the possession of the few; that the general mind, too long satisfied with low and sensual delights, is seeking for higher aliment. The mass of men are availing themselves of the means of improvement which a condition of freedom furnish- es, and call for an increased number of instructers and guides. Many who are competent to the task, are answering the call. Already they constitute a considerable body. They are marching forward to scatter the seeds of good or evil. It is important that their movement take a right direction. Momentous consequences hang upon their action. If they are true to the cause of liberty, refinement, and progress, they can accomplish a world of good. If they are animated by the right spirit, they can give a tremen- dous impulse to the onward march of society. But if they fail, if they disregard their high responsibilities, deep and damning will be their guilt. THE TOMB-BLOSSOMS. nv WALTER WHITMAN. A PLEASANT, fair-sized country village,a village embosomed in trees, with old churches, one tavern, kept by a respectable widow, long, single-storied farm-houses, their roofs mossy, and their chimneys smoke black, a village with much grass, and shrubbery, and no mortar, nor bricks, nor pavements, nor gasno newness: that is the place for him who wishes life in its flavor and its bloom. Until of late, my residence has been in such a place. Man of cities! what is there in all your boasted pleasure your fashions, parties, balls, and theatres, compared to the sim- plest of the delights we country folk enjoy ~ Our pure air, ma- king the bloodswell and leap with buoyant health; our labor and our exercise; our freedom from the sickly vices that taint the town; our not being racked with notes due, or the fluctuations of prices, or the breaking of banks; our manners of sociality, expanding the heart, and reacting with a wholesome effect upon the body ;can anything which citizens possess balance these ~ 1842.3 The Tomb-Blossoms. 63 One Saturday, after paying a few days visit at New York, I re- turned to my quarters in the country inn. The day was hot, and my journey a disagreeable one. I had been forced to stir myself beyond comfort, and despatch my affairs quickly, for fear of be- ing left by the cars. As it was, I arrived panting and covered ~vith sweat, just as they were about to start. Then for many miles I had to bear the annoyance of the steam-engine smoke; and it seemed to me that the vehicles kept swaying to and fro on the track, with a more than usual motion, on purpose to distress my jaded limbs. Out of humor with myself and everything around me, when I came to my travels end, I refused to partake of the comfortable supper which my landlady had prepared for me; and rejoining to the good womans look of wonder at such an unwonted event, and her kind inquiries about my health, with a sullen si- lence, I took my lamp, and went my way to my room. Tired and head-throbbing, in less f~an half a score of minutes after I threw myself on my bed, I was steeped in the soundest slumber. When I awoke, every vein and nerve felt fresh and free. Sore- ness and irritation had been s~vept away, as it were, with the cur- tains of the night; and the accustomed tone had returned again. I arose and threw open my window. Delicious! It was a calm, bright Sabbath morning in May. The dew-drops glittered on the grass; the fragrance of the apple-blossoms which covered the trees floated up to me; and the notes of a hundred birds dis- coursed music to my ear. By the rays just shooting up in the eastern verge, I knew that the sun would be risen in a moment. I hastily dressed rnyself performed my ablutions, and sallied forth to take a morning walk. Sweet, yet sleepy scene! No one seemed stirring. The pla- cid influence of the day was even no~v spread around, quieting everything, and hallowing everything. I sauntered slowly on- ward, with my hands folded behind me. I passed round the edge of a hill, on the rising elevation and top of which was the burial- ground. On my left, through an opening in the trees, I could see at some distance the ripples of our beautiful bay; on my right, was the large and ancient field for the dead. I stopped and lean- ed my back against the fence, with my face turned toward the white marble stones a few rods before me. All I saw was far from new to me; and yet I pondered upon it. The entrance to that place of tombs was a kind of archa rough-hewn but no doubt hardy piece of architecture, that had stood winter and sum- mer over the gate there, for many, many years. 0, fearful arch! if there were for thee a voice to utter what has passed beneath and near thee; if the secrets of the earthy dwelling that to thee 64~ The Tomb-Blossoms. [January, are known could be by thee disclosedwhose ear might listen to the appalling story and its possessor not go mad with terror! Thus thought I; and strangely enough, such imagining marred not in the least the sunny brightness which spread alike over my mind and over the landscape. Involuntarily as I mused, my look was cast to the top of the bill. I saw a figure moving. Could some one beside myself be out so early, and among the tombs l What creature odd enough in fancy to find pleasure there, and at such a time l Continuing my gaze, I saw that the figure was a woman. She seemed to move with a slow and feeble step, pass- ing and repassing constantly between two and the same graves, which were within half a rod of each other. She would bend down and appear to busy herself a few moments with the one; then she would rise, and go to the second, and bend there, and employ herself as at the first. Then to the former one, and then to the second again. Occasionally the fi~ure would pause a mo- ment, and stand back a little, and look steadfastly down upon the graves, as if to see whether her work were done well. Thrice I saw her walk with a tottering gait, and stand midway between the two, and h~ook alternately at each. Then she would go to one and arrange something, and come back to the midway place, and gaze first on the right and then on the left, as before. The figure evidently had some trouble in suiting things to her mind. Where I stood, I could hear no noise of her footfalls; nor could I see accurately enough to tell what she was doing. Had a supersti- tious man beheld the spectacle, he would possibly have thought that some spirit of the dead, allowed the night before to burst its cerements, and ~vander forth in the darkness, had been belated in returning, and was now perplexed to find its coffin-house again. Curious to know what was the womans employment, I undid the simple fastenings of the gate, and walked over the rank wet grass toward her. As I came near, I recognised her for an old, a very old inmate of the poor-house, named Delaree. Stopping a moment, while I was yet several yards from her, and before she saw me, I tried to call to recollection certain particu- lars of her history which I had heard a great while past. She was a native of one of the West India islands, and, before I who gazed at her was born, had with her husband come hither to set- tle and gain a livelihood. They were poor; most miserably poor. Country people, I have noticed, seldom like foreigners. So this man and his wife, in all probability, met much to discourage them. They kept up their spirits, however, until at last their fortunes became desperate. Famine and want laid iron fingers upon them. They had no acquaintance; and to beg they were ashamed. Both 184~.] Tile Tomb-Blossoms. 65 were taken ill; then the charity that had been so slack came to their destitute abode, but came too late. Delaree died, the vic- tim of poverty. The woman recovered, after a while; but for many months was quite an invalid, and was sent to the alms- house, where she had ever since remained. This was the story of the aged creature before me; aged with the weight of seventy winters. I walked up to her. By her feet stood a large rude basket, in which I beheld leaves and buds. The two graves ~vhich I had seen her passing between so often were covered with flowers the earliest but sweetest flo~vers of the season. They were fresh, and wet, and very fragrant those delicate soul.offerings. And this, then, was her employment~ Strange! Flowers, frail and passing, grasped by the hand of age, and scattered upon a tomb! White hairs, and pale blos- soms, and stone tablets of Death! Good morning, mistress, said I, quietly. The withered female turned her eyes to mine, and acknowl- edged my greeting in the same spirit wherewith it was given. May I ask whose graves they are that you remember so kindly i She looked up again; probably catching, from my manner, that I spoke in no spirit of rude inquisitiveness; and answered, My husbands. A manifestation of a fanciful taste, thought I, this tomb-orna- menting, which she probably brought with her from abroad. Of course, but one of the graves could be her husbands; and one, likely, was that of a child, who had died and been laid away by its father. Whose else 1 I asked. My husbands, replied the aged widow. Poor creature! her faculties were becoming dim No doubt her sorrows and her length of life had worn both mind and body nearly to the parting. Yes, I know, continued I, mildly; hut there are two graves. One is your husbands, and the other is I paused for her to fill the blank. She looked at me a minute, as if in wonder at my perverse~ ness; and then answered as before, My husbands. None but my Gilberts. And is Gilbert buried in both l said I. She appeared as if going to answer, but stopj~ed again, and did not. Though my curiosity was now somewhat excited, I for bore to question her further, feeling that it might be to her a painful subject. I was wrong, however. She had been rather VOL. X., No. XLIII.9 66 The Tomb-Blossoms. [January, agitated at my intrusion, and her powers flickered for a moment. They were soon steady again; and, perhaps gratified with my interest in her affairs, she gave me in a few brief sentences the solution of the mystery. When her husbands death occurred, she was herself confined to a sick bed, ~vhich she did not leave for a long while after he was buried. Still longer days passed before she had permission, or even strength, to go into the open air. When she did, her first efforts were essayed to reach Gil- berts grave. What a pang sunk to her heart when she found it could not be pointed out to her! With the careless indiffer- ence which is shown to the corpses of outcasts, poor Delaree had been thrown into a hastily dug hole, ~vitbout any one noting it, or remembering which it was. Subsequently, several other paupers were buriedin the same spot; and the sexton could only show two graves to the disconsolate woman, and tell her that her husbands was positively one of the twain. During the latter stages of her recovery, she had looked forward to the consola- tion of coming to his tomb as to a shrine, and wiping her tears there; and it was bitter that snch could not be. The miserable widow even attempted to obtain the consent of the proper func- tionaries that the graves might be opened, and her anxieties put at rest! When told that this could not be done, she determined in her soni that at least the remnant of her hopes and intentions should not be given up. Every Sunday morning, in the mild seasons, she went forth early, and gathered fresh flowers, and dressed both the graves. So she knev that the right one was cared for, even if another shared that care. And lest she should possibly bestow the most of this testimony of love on him whom she knew not, but whose spirit might be looking down invisible in the air, and smiling upon her, she was ever careful to have each tomb adorned in an exactly similar manner. In a strange land, and among a strange race, she said, it was like communion with her own people to visit that burial-mound. If I could only know which to bend over when my beart feels heavy, thus finished the sorrowing being as she rose to depart, then it would be a happiness. But perhaps I am blind to my dearest mercies. God in his great wisdom may have sent that I should not know which grave was his, lest grief over it should become too common a luxury for me, and melt me away. I offered to accompany her, and support her feeble steps; but she preferred that it should not be so. With languid feet she moved on. I watched her pass through the gate and under the arch; I saw her turn, and in a little while she was hidden from my view. Then I carefully parted the flowers upon one of the 1844.] The Tomb-Blossoms. 67 graves, and sat down there, and leaned my face in my open hands and thought. What a wondrous thing is womans love! Oh Thou whose most mighty attribute is the Incarnation of Love, I bless Thee that Thou didst make this fair disposition in the human heart, and didst root it there so deeply that it is stronger than all else, and can never be torn out! Here is this aged wayfarer, a woman of trials and griefs, decrepit, sore, and steeped in pov- erty; the most forlorn of her kind; and yet, through all the storm of misfortune, and the dark cloud of years settling upon her, the Memory of her Love hovers like a beautiful spirit amid the gloom; and never deserts her, but abides with her while life abides. Yes; this creature loved: .this wrinkled, skinny, gray- haired crone had her heart to swell with passion, and her pulses to throb, and her eyes to sparkle. Now, nothing remains but a Lovely Remembrance, cqming as of old, and stepping in its accus- tomed path, not to perform its former object, or former duty but from long habit. .JVothing but that! Ah! is not that a great deal! And the buried man he was happy to have passed away as he did. The woman she was the one to be pitied. Without doubt she wished many times that she were laid beside him. And not only she, thought I, as I cast my eyes on the solemn memorials around me; but at the same time there were thousands else on earth, who panted for the Long Repose, as a tired child for the night. The - grave the grave what foolish man calls it a dreadful place 7. It is a kind friend, whose arms shall compass us round about, and while we lay our heads upon his bosom, no care, temptation, nor corroding passion shall have power to dis- turb us. Then the weary spirit shall no more be weary; the aching head and aching heart will be strangers to pain; and the soul that has fretted and sorro~ved away its little life on earth will sorrow not any more. When the mind has been roaming abroad in the crowd, and returns sick and tired of hollow hearts, and of human deceit let us think of the grave and of death, and they will seem like soft and pleasant music. Such thoughts then soothe and calm our pulses; they open a peaceful prospect before us. I do not dread the grave. There is many a time when I could lay down, and pass my immortal part through the valley of the shadow, as composedly as I quaff water after a tiresome walk. For what is there of terror in taking our rest 7. What is there here below to draw us with such fondness 7. Life is the running of a race a most weary race, sometimes. Shall we fear the goal, merely because it is shrouded in a cloud 7. The Martyr of the .flrena. [January, I rose, and carefully replaced the parted flowers, and bent my steps homeward. If there be any sufficiently interested in the fate of the aged woman, that they wish to know further about her, for those I will add, that ere long her affection was transferred to a Region where it might receive the reward of its constancy and purity. Her last desire and it was complied with was that she should be placed midway between the two graves. THE MARTYR OF THE ARENA. DY EPES SARGENT. HONORED be the hero evermore, Who at mercys call has nobly died! Echoed be his name from shore to shore, With immortal chronicles allied! Verdant be the turf upon his dust, Bright the sky above, and soft the air! In the grove set up his marble bust, And with garlands crown it, fresh and fair. In melodious numbers, that shall live With the music of the rolling spheres, Let the minstrels inspiration give His eulogium to the future years! Not the victor in his countrys cause, Not the chief who leaves a people free, Not the framer of a nations laws, Shall deserve a greater fame than he! Hast thou heard, in Romes declining day, How a youth, by Christian zeal impelled, Swept the sanguinary games away, Which the Coliseum once beheld ?* Filled with gazing thousands were the tiers, With the citys chivalry and pride, When two gladiators, with their spears, Forward sprang from the arenas side. Rang the dome with plaudits loud and long, As, with shields advanced, the athletes stood: Was there no one in that eager throng To denounce the spectacle of blood? * See Gibbons Decline and Fall, ii. 223, Harpers Ed.

The Martyr of the .flrena. [January, I rose, and carefully replaced the parted flowers, and bent my steps homeward. If there be any sufficiently interested in the fate of the aged woman, that they wish to know further about her, for those I will add, that ere long her affection was transferred to a Region where it might receive the reward of its constancy and purity. Her last desire and it was complied with was that she should be placed midway between the two graves. THE MARTYR OF THE ARENA. DY EPES SARGENT. HONORED be the hero evermore, Who at mercys call has nobly died! Echoed be his name from shore to shore, With immortal chronicles allied! Verdant be the turf upon his dust, Bright the sky above, and soft the air! In the grove set up his marble bust, And with garlands crown it, fresh and fair. In melodious numbers, that shall live With the music of the rolling spheres, Let the minstrels inspiration give His eulogium to the future years! Not the victor in his countrys cause, Not the chief who leaves a people free, Not the framer of a nations laws, Shall deserve a greater fame than he! Hast thou heard, in Romes declining day, How a youth, by Christian zeal impelled, Swept the sanguinary games away, Which the Coliseum once beheld ?* Filled with gazing thousands were the tiers, With the citys chivalry and pride, When two gladiators, with their spears, Forward sprang from the arenas side. Rang the dome with plaudits loud and long, As, with shields advanced, the athletes stood: Was there no one in that eager throng To denounce the spectacle of blood? * See Gibbons Decline and Fall, ii. 223, Harpers Ed. 1842.] The Martyr of the ~1rena. 69 Aye! Telemachus, with swelling frame, Saw thinhuman sport renewed once more: Few among the crowd could tell his name, For a Cross was all the badge he wore! Yet, with brow elate and godlike mien, Stepped he forth upon the circling sand; And, while all were wondring at the scene, Checked thencounter with a daring hand. Romans ! cried he Let this reeking sod Never more with human blood be stained! Let no image of the living God In unhallowed combat be profaned! Ah! too long has this colossal dome Failed to sink and bide your brutal shows! Here I call upon assembled Rome Now to swear, they shall for ever close ! Parted thus, the combatants, with joy, Mid the tumult, found the means to fly; In tharena stood thundaunted boy, And, with looks adoring, gazed on high. Pealed the shout of wrath on evry side; Evry hand was eager to assail! Slay him! slay ! a hundred voices cried, Wild with fury,but he did not quail! Hears he, as entranced he looks above, Strains celestial, that the menace drown? Sees he angels, with their eyes of love, Beckning to him, with a martyrs crown? Fiercer swelled the peoples frantic shout! Launched against him flew the stones like rain! Death and terror circled him about, But he stood and perishednot in vain! Not in vain the youthful martyr fell! Then and there he crushed a bloody creed! And his high example shall impel Future heroes to as great a deed! Stony answers yet remain for those Who would question and precede the time! In their season, may they meet their foes, Like Telemachus, with front sublime! 70 [January, SKETCHES OF CHARACTERS OF THE MIDDLE AGES. No. IV THE MEN-AT-ARMS. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE BROTHERS, ~CROMWELL~ & C. THE second morning after the defeat of the Routiers, and the death of Matthieu de Montmesnil, broke fair and cloudless; there had been a smart hoar frost on the preceding night, and although the sua was already high in the heavens, the crystal fretwork of the rime still glittered on the fern and briers, bright as a war- riors mail; the air was clear and sharp, and full of that invigora- ting freshness which is even more agreeable to the senses of a healthful frame than the luxurious stillness of a summer day, and all the forest, in which our scene still lies, was alive with the gay notes of a thousand tiny warbiers. Faint, however, was the impression produced by the bright sun- shine, or the bracing gale, or the continued melody with ~vhich the woods were vocal, on the spirits of the stout champion Hu- gues de Coucy, as he rode onward through the woody passes, attended only by the page Ermold, deep sorrow brooding on his bold lineaments and broad fair brow. He was sheathed once again from head to foot in his own splendid panoply, which had been won back from the robbers, perfect and uninjured; he back- ed, too, as before, the beautiful gray Arab Termagaunt; but the three stout and valiant soldiers, who had so lately followed him in all the pride and power of noble manhood, now lay beneath the frozen earth, cold, voiceless, deaf even to the soul-stirring trumpets! and for the superb charger, clad like its rider in com- plete xvar array, and like him panting for the shock of battle, a slow and sober mule, heavily laden with the demipique and bardings of the slain destrier, plodded along with drooping crest and dogged air, shrewdly exercising the patience of the young fiery page who led him by the rein, with many an ex- ecration at the slow gait from which neither blows nor caress- es could compel him. No word spoke Hugues, except at times a call to Ermold in Gods name to scourge on that lazy garron, else should night fall and find them in the forest. Thus passed the morning, dully and wearily indeed; but as the sun reached the zenith, the travellers gained the summit of a long sandy hill, whence they might see the woodlands melting, as it were, gradually into cultivated fields; and beyond these a wide tract of fertile champaign, intersected by many broad streams of water, all gleaming gayly to the sunlight; and in the middle ground of the picture the~tall Gothic steeples and grotesque tow-

70 [January, SKETCHES OF CHARACTERS OF THE MIDDLE AGES. No. IV THE MEN-AT-ARMS. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE BROTHERS, ~CROMWELL~ & C. THE second morning after the defeat of the Routiers, and the death of Matthieu de Montmesnil, broke fair and cloudless; there had been a smart hoar frost on the preceding night, and although the sua was already high in the heavens, the crystal fretwork of the rime still glittered on the fern and briers, bright as a war- riors mail; the air was clear and sharp, and full of that invigora- ting freshness which is even more agreeable to the senses of a healthful frame than the luxurious stillness of a summer day, and all the forest, in which our scene still lies, was alive with the gay notes of a thousand tiny warbiers. Faint, however, was the impression produced by the bright sun- shine, or the bracing gale, or the continued melody with ~vhich the woods were vocal, on the spirits of the stout champion Hu- gues de Coucy, as he rode onward through the woody passes, attended only by the page Ermold, deep sorrow brooding on his bold lineaments and broad fair brow. He was sheathed once again from head to foot in his own splendid panoply, which had been won back from the robbers, perfect and uninjured; he back- ed, too, as before, the beautiful gray Arab Termagaunt; but the three stout and valiant soldiers, who had so lately followed him in all the pride and power of noble manhood, now lay beneath the frozen earth, cold, voiceless, deaf even to the soul-stirring trumpets! and for the superb charger, clad like its rider in com- plete xvar array, and like him panting for the shock of battle, a slow and sober mule, heavily laden with the demipique and bardings of the slain destrier, plodded along with drooping crest and dogged air, shrewdly exercising the patience of the young fiery page who led him by the rein, with many an ex- ecration at the slow gait from which neither blows nor caress- es could compel him. No word spoke Hugues, except at times a call to Ermold in Gods name to scourge on that lazy garron, else should night fall and find them in the forest. Thus passed the morning, dully and wearily indeed; but as the sun reached the zenith, the travellers gained the summit of a long sandy hill, whence they might see the woodlands melting, as it were, gradually into cultivated fields; and beyond these a wide tract of fertile champaign, intersected by many broad streams of water, all gleaming gayly to the sunlight; and in the middle ground of the picture the~tall Gothic steeples and grotesque tow- 184~2.] JVo IV The Jlfen-at-slrms. 71 ers, which marked a city of the middle ages, shooting up into the thin clear air, above the crowded roofs of Brussels. Soh! Ermold, exclaimed the knight, halting, as he spoke, to allow the boy to draw up abreast of him; here then at length is Brussels; and look youto spare time, which of Gods truth we do lack sorely I with all speed shall gallop forward; come on as best thou may, thoult find me at the Lion dOr in the place darmes. I must purvey myself a destrier, and thee a coat of plate, an if thou art to be hereafter mine esquire: and fain I would, if it be possible, pick up some two or three strong var- lets to ride with us, till such time as my brother Hubert bring up my leading, with the broad banner of our house. We must be on our route again forthwith, so we would save the Chatelaine de Verneuil an onslaught from these cursed Routiers. Fear me not, good my lord, replied the youth, coloring high with pleasure, I will make no delay upon the road, and shall be up, I warrant me, at the Golden Lion, ere you be ready to set on- ward ! The knight bowed his head in answer, and slackened thc rein of his fiery horse, which tarried not for any further signal, but darted away like ,an arrow shot from the longbow of an English archer, over rough and smooth, up the long steep ascent, and down the headlong hill, at the same long unvaryi~g gallop. Not once, no, not for a moment, did he lag or falter; not once did he suffer the reins to fall loose from his riders hand, but straining eagerly against the bit, swept forward with a regular and gentle motion, like that of a bird through the air, and within half an hour stood, without a pant of his deep lungs, or a foam-spot on his housings, before the barbican and moated walls of Brussels. A few minutes were consumed in parleying with the captain of the burgher guard, who was on duty at the gates; but this ended, no further interruption occurred. So that before he had been an hour absent from the page, the knight was installed in the best chamber of the Lion dOr, as a well remembered and much hon- ored guest, with a cold capon, and a flagon of Burgundy wine mulled with spices, at his elbow, the jolly landlord assuring him that he had sent for a maquignon, who would speedily furnish him forthwith a charger, such as Duke Philip would himselg God prosper him, be proud to mount in battle; and that by good lucky the Herr Jacob Vanderneer, deacon of the armorers guild, was taking his nooning down below when his worship dismounted, and that he had departed homeward in some heat to load his journey- man with harness for the good knights inspection. For once no mighty discrepance occurred between the promise 72 Sketches of Characters of the Middle ./Jges. [January, and performance, for scarcely was Sir Hugues appetite appeased, before the trampling of horses in the court, under the windows, summoned him from his seat, to inspect the dealers cattle. This worthy stimulated by the hope of high prices, and pretty well satisfied, by the great reputation of the Count of ,Tankerville for nn aicomplished cavalier, that any of the ordinary tricks of the trade would be on this occasion thrown away, had brought out in the first instance the flo~ver of his stables; resolving merely to atone for this deviation from ordinary rules, by demanding at least twice the value of each particular animal. There were, in- deed, several fine-looking beasts among the dozen or fifteen which were paraded to and fro by the grooms, on the pavements; but one especially caught the barons eye, as fully capable of supplying the place of his lost Andalusian. It was a tall and pow- erful black horse, with a white blaze on the face, and one white foot behind; and, as the practised, judgment of Sir Hugues at once determined, had no small intermixture of Barbary or Arab blood with the best Flemish strain. The price demnnded for this charger, although, after he ~had nearly kicked out the brains of one groom, and had actually pulled a second out of his saddle with his teeth, and shaken him as a terrier dog would a rat, the dealer admitted him to be a vicious devil which trait, however, he affected to consider as an advantage, rather than the reverse, to one so famed for horsemanship as the Sieur de Coucy was even for that age stupendous. Without seeming, however, to consider this, Hugues ordered the black horse to be set aside; and proceeded to select a second, by no means inferior in blood or beauty, though somewhat slighter-made and lower than the first, which he judged fit to carry Ermold in his new character of Esquire. While he was yet engaged in examining the chest- nut, the landlord touched him on the shoulder and presented three tall fellows, whom he declared to be honest lads, well known to himself, two of whom had seen some service, and were eager to be admitted to the preferment of following a lord so fa- mous. The first of these, him who had never served, the knight at once rejected; and then, after asking a few questions of the others, he desired the taller of the two, who was likewise the old- er soldier, to jump up on the black horse, bare-backed as he was, and ride him round the yard. The grooms laughed aloud at the coolness with which the baron gave this order, as though it were the easiest thing in the world, and the ma~uignon, who was ac- quainted with the aspirant; cried out, Have a care have a care, Giles! for hes as full of tricks, ay! and as stubborn as the fiend! 1842.] JVo. IV. The Men-at-~1rms. 73 And if he be the fiend himself I care not, Master Andrew, answered the fellow; for the foul fiend had to carry Master Michael Scott, as men say, the Scottish magician, across the seas from Salamanca to St. Andrews; and I trow Master Scott coujd hardly back a destrier with a free lance of Flanders. And with the words, he strode up to the black charger, and laying his hand on the mane, sprang, almost as it seemed without an effort, to his back. In an instant the fierce brute reared bolt upright, and positively leaped endlong into the air, alighting on the pavement with such violence that sparks of fire flashed from the stones under the dint of his hoofs; and scarce had he alight- ed before he fell into a succession of plunges, kicking and loung- ing to and fro like a very devil, but all to no avail; for the trooper sat him as though he had been a portion of the animal, till, havingr un through all the cha~nges of its vice, it became quiet for a few seconds space; when he dismounted, and walked back to his place with a well-satisfied smile on his countenance, not in the least out of breath or discomposed by his late exertion. Well ridden, Giles, exclaimed the knight; exceedingly well ridden; now an thou listest to follow faithfully my banner, thou mayest do well in these wars. So please you, Beau Sire, answered the man, Ill do my best for it; and little doubt to win your favor, if hone~t bearing and stout blows will win it ! That they will, that they will, good fellow, answered Sir Hugues; never thou fear it! and thou, sir, wilt thou brook the trial, and mount black Sathanas there l he continued, turn- ing to the younger man. I will, Sir Hugues, I will, he answered, humbly; for I am not afraid; though, to say truth, a man may ride well, and yet not be a match for you black devil. But I will risk a fall for it. No man shall say Francon van Voorhis sought service with the count of Tankerville, and when he might have gained, lost it for lack of heart. As he finished speaking, he too crossed the yard, and succeed- ed in mounting the formidable horse, which immediately resort- ed to its old tricks - displaying no small degree of activity and skill in controlling the first plunges. As if, however, he had been but irritated by his riders efforts to subdue him, snorting and foaming till his black glossy limbs were spotted as if with snow-flakes, the mighty horse dashed to and fro, scattering the grooms like sheep, and at length freeing his head by a violent effort, and yerking out his heels a dozen times in succession, hurled the youth Francon from hls back, like a qucit from the VOL. X., No. XLIII.lO 74~ Sketches of Characters of the .Middle .~ges. [January, arm of a strong player. Luckily for the man, he fell upon a heap of horse-litter which had been swept out from the inn stables, else had he never moved limb any more as it was, he was sorely bruised; yet as he rose, lame and limping, and shook the straws from his doublet, he laughed cheerfully, and said: Bet- ter luck next time, Sieur Horse thou mayest unseat me, but the fiends int if thou canst scare me ! And he made as if he would have tried his fortune again; for he offered to catch the horse, which was careering furiously about the court, no one daring to approach it, but as he did so That will do, that will do, my lad, cried the knight for one day, at the least. Thou hast done well, and wilt do better yet, I warrant me, ere thou hast followed the Coucys banner a twelvemonth. Get thee in with thy fellow Giles: and, mine host, give them each a quart of Rhenish, and that presently.. We must to horse ere long, but now to conquer this swart demon, which must be done at once, if we would have him riseful. And instantly, as the horse dart- ed past him, he snatched the halter with his right hand, and brought him up with a jerk that threw him, for a moment, on his haunches; then, all armed as he was, in the heaviest panoply of the day, he vaulted to his bare back at a single bound, and plung- ed the rowels of his gilded spurs up to the head in his flanks. For a few moments the struggle was tremendous; at first it seemed as if1 no human power or skill could have controlled the frantic efforts of the furious stallion; but as the knight sat firm, baffling each successive plunge, and answering every kick with a corresponding motion of his armed heels, it soon became evi- dent that he must be the master of the day; for, after a while, every plunge was weaker than that which preceded it, and anon, quite baffled and subdued, panting and blown, the proud ivar-horse stood still. Then the knight wheeled him round, and walked him to and fro, and patted his high crest, drawing off the mail- ed gauntlet from his hand; and again, pricking him gently with the spur, put him through all his paces, and passaged him around the court, winding him to and fro with the least touch of the rein as gently as a ladys jennet. Then he dismounted; and standing by his head caressed him quietly for a few moments, and then walked away toward the stables of the inn, the conquer- ed destrier following as peaceably behind him, as though he had been the tamest cart-jade in the city. While this strange scene had been in progress, Ermold de Clermont arrived at the inn- gates, mounted as we have described him, on the bay Arab, and leading the mule loaded with the bard and housings of the barons horse; and stood in silence looking on the good knights 1842.] JVo. IV. The .Men-at-./Irms. 75 prowess till the black stallion was completely vanquished. Then he stepped up to Hugues, and took the bridle of his destrier, and transmitted to the grooms of the hostlery his lords commands to clean and rub down his new purchase thoroughly, and arm him with the full horse armor and housings, as speedily as might be. The countenances of the two troopers, who had not yet gone in, having waited to see how their new lord rode, evinced how vastly he had risen in their estimation; and the elder of the two kneeled down before him as he returned from the stables, and said Hear me swear, Beau Sire, never to swerve or falter, never to turn back from the deadliest brunt of battle, never to draw the rein or sheath the sword, so long as you are in the field before me; for here I vow myself your man, through weal and wo for ever, in life and unto death! For if I leave thy side, while thou art in the field and fighting, or if I die not on thy body when thou liest under shield full knightly, then may my patron-saint desert me in mine utmost need; may good Saint Peter lock heavens gate against me; and hell receive my soul! For sure thou art the noblest knight, the stoutest leader, the completest champion, that couches spear in Christenty ! The other, as he perceived his fellows action, and heard the vow which he uttered, threw himself on his knees beside him, and stretching out his arms, cried with a loud voice, Me! me ! me too! good Knight; hear me, for I swear likewise and all the while the big tears rolled down his sunburnt cheek, and he sobbed audibly, so deeply did he feel the responsibility of the service which he was undertaking; till, as Giles finished his speech, he uttered a loud amen! on my soul be the oath amen A bright gleaming smile played over the animated features of the knight, as he listened to the fervent exclamations, and look- ed upon the agitated countenances of his followers; for he was in truth well satisfied; knowing that in minds of low and grovel- ling order there are no springs of such enthusiasm, and arguing thence that these his newly chosen men-at-arms were moulded of the right metal for making chivalrous and gallant soldiers. Well spoken, both of ye, he answered; well spoken, and I thank ye fort; and if ye be true followers to the Coucy, trust well that he to you will be true lord and loyal; and for the rest, of Gods truth, I have seen some service, and, so the good saints prosper me, shall see more ere I die; and if ye list to lay lance in the rest among the foremost, ye shall not long lack opportunity, nor, it may be, advancement. Go in now, go in 76 Sketches of Characters of the .Middle ages. [January, and refresh ye; and that done, we ~vill fit ye with good plate- coats, and tough lances, and we will ride forth this same night upon adventure. But hold! hold! I would see your judgment in this same article of horse-flesh choose, each of ye, a charger out of the lot before ye, and if your choosing like me, why I will stand the upshot. With many thanks, the soldiers turned to the grateful task, proceeding to the business with so much alacrity and readiness, as proved them, in their own estimation, at the least, masters of the art. It was not, however, till after much chaffering with the maquignon, and much consultation with each other, and much more examination than the knight had judged necessary before choosing his own destrier, that they pitched upon two powerful and well-bred horses, which meeting Sir Hugues approbation, were set apart with those which he had already selected. This matter of the horses having been thus satisfactorily arranged, it remained only to equip them and their riders with their necessary arms and housings; and scarcely had the hostlers led away the chargers to get them fitted at the saddlers with their steel-plated demipiques, and chainwork bridles, before the deacon of the armorers reappeared, accompanied by four or five stout serving-men, dividing among them the different pieces of two complete suits of armor, suited as nearly as might be guess- ed to the page Ermold; on trial, however, one of the two proved quite too large; while the other, which fitted perfectly, was pro- nounced by the knight to be of too splendid a fashion for his esquire, being all engrailed with damasking of silver. Errnold shall go with you, he said, good master armorer, and I will trust to you to fit him forth becomingly; let the har- ness be of plate, bright steel, but without ornament; if it be of Alnayn rivet, or from a Milan forge, so much the better. A close casque of the old fashion, with a fixed avantaille, and see there be gusset of good mail, hooked firmly to the corslet-rim and upper edge of the brassards, to guard the oxter from arrow-shot orthrust of some sharp weapon when the right arm is raised. Dost mark me, ha ~ And ye, good fellows, go with him likewise; fit them, I pray you, both with your best harness of burnished Flanders iron, complete dost understand ~ complete from head to foot, steelboot and taslet, brassard, vant-brace, and corslet; and see here! none of your open morions, or baginets, but good stout cerveilleres, with beaver and mailhood. That done, I will entreat you to commend them to a leatherworkers, where they may get them each a cassock of dressed hide to wear above their mail; white, mark you, Ermold, and laid down on the seams with lace. 1842.] JVo IV. The JIfen-at-arms. 77 And see ye that the suits be of one pattern, that ye look orderly and neat; not loose, irregular companions. Furnish them likewise, thou, Herr Jacob, with double-handed swords, and dudgeon dag- gers of a hands breadth, and a good battle-axe apiece of ten pounds weight or better. Now hurry, my men, hurry! for by the Lord that lives, the day is waning. Now, Vandenkopf, he added, turning to the landlord, go in and speak with me, for I must needs draw a bill on Master Morillon of Bruges, or if it like your money-changers better, on the intendant of my estates of Tank- erville, to pay for these same steeds and harness ! This would have been at that day, in any other state of Europe, a task of no small difficulty; but even at an earlier date than that of ~vhich we write, the intelligent and industrious Flemings had been in the habit of using something analogous to bills of ex- change; the invention of which is variously attributed to the Jews, the merchants of the Low Country, and the traders of the Italian republics; and to one so famous as Hugues de Coucy, there would have been no difficulty in raising even a larger sum than he re- quired among the opulent goldsmiths and je~vellers, who were in those days the bankers of Brussels. The sun was still high above the western horizon, although it was long past noon, so rapidly had de Coucys men, eager to gain the good opinion of a lord at the same time so lib- eral, and, if report spoke true, so strict in the maintenance of discipline, got through the tasks allotted to themwhen the barons party issued forth by a different gate from that which had admitted him, into the great plain beyond the city walls. They were not perhaps in all respects so complete a train as that which had accompanied the baron, previous to his encounter with the Red Bastard and his confederates; but they afforded, notwithstanding, a noble spectacle; for the horses were picked beasts, and the new men-at-arms tall well-made fello~vs, and good riders, bearing themselves erect and proudly in their sad- dles, beautifully equipped, and managing their own chargers with ease and skill, while each led a spare horse, the two Arabs be- fore mentioned, lightly equipped, and loaded with spare armor and a few staves for lances The young Esquire for to that honorable station, by dint of gallantry, bold zeal, and approved fidelity, Ermold de Clermont was now fairly inducted wore his beaver up, as he caracoled gayly behind his liege lord, his whole face radiant, and his eyes lightning with enthusiastic pleas- ure; so that no one could doubt for a moment that his young high spirit would effect far more than could be expected from his slender frame and juvenile appearance. 78 Sketches of Characters of the Middle sflges. [January, They had not ridden far before the knight made a sign to him; and when he rode up to him, desired him to relieve the man-at- arms, called Giles, of the horse he was leading, and send him forward, as he would speak with him for a few moments. The exchange was effected in a minute, and with a deep obeisance the trooper trotted sharply up to his lords side. So, Giles, the knight began, Master Vandenkopf tells me thou art a thorough guide for all this Netherlandish country ist so, good fellow V Nearly so, Beau Sire, the man answered; all on this French frontier I do know foot by foot; and on the northern side there are, I do believe, few hetter guides than I, up to the Elbe at least, and on the Rhine as far as to Cologne, so please you.~~ Well, it does please me wondrous well !Now, sir, where lies the chateau de Verneuil how strong ist, and how manned ~ nigh to what town or hamlet, and what chance of mustering men about it ? It lies some ten leagues hence north-westerly, in the very thick- et of the forest, not very far from Tirlemont and Hannut; at least those are the nearest places to it. There be a few small tenures round about it, and a little, oh, a very little village at the hill-foot. Then as for its strengthit is but one square keep, with a few out-huildings in a court-yard, surrounded by a low wall with some half dozen turrets at the angles. The present Seigneur has indeed dug a new moat, and filled it from a neighhoring rivulet, and built a low barbican over against the gatehut the Lord love you! it has no strength at all. Why twenty men might carry it, and as for help, there isno help to be got nigher than Hannut, and that must be four leagues. I have heard too that the Sieur de Floris, he is the Chatelain, you know, sir,has ridden thence some months ago to join the English queen at Mirepoix, where she is waiting, as they say, her bad son Johns arrivalI do believe there are but scant ten spears in the chateau, and no better captain than the young lady ! And they will be attacked at day-break to-morrow by forty Routiers at the least, under that ruffian Talebard Ha! Talebardin, said the man and the Red Bastard, I will warrant it, and like enough the gray priest too !well, Beau Seig- neur, however you may know it, of this be sure, if they do attack the chateau, then they will carry it, most surely. No! no! good fellow; the Red Bastard will couch lance no more, nor the gray brother either, nor shall they carry the cha- teau so readily ! 1842.] .No. IV.Tke Men-at-.frmg. 79 The trooper looked bewildered for a few seconds, as if he were at a loss to comprehend de Coucys meaning; and then taking courage, asked, How, my lord lhow shall they no more couch lance when it is their trade alway ?. Because my spear-point went in at his gorget-joint and came out through his back-piece yestermornthe Red Bastards, I would say !and as for the gray brother, my good companion and true friend a saint in heaven now Matthieu de Mont- mesnil slew him in the same hour, beside the headless cross. Pardieu ! exclaimed the soldier, but this shall be glad news for Brussels; they have harassed its merchants sorely these past yearsand now, Seigneur And now, returned Hugues, thou must guide me, as straight as thou canst ride, to the chateau of Verneuil; I vow to Heaven and good St. Paul, if we get thither ere they reach the castle, they shall not win it scatheless. Is she so young, this la- dy Chatelaine, is she so young, Giles Ivernois i. Scarce eighteen years, Beau Sire, Ive heard them tell ! She was but wed last Shrove-tide. The Sieur de Floris brought her home from some place in Provence or Languedoc. Her name, methinks, was de Navailles; Gabrielle de Navailles ! Ha! T~te de Dieu! Gabrielle de Navailles ! exclaimed the knight, a deep red flush crossing his brow, and passing instantly away so as to leave him paler than before. Ha! is it so So much the more need then of speed to rescue her, he add ed,mut- tering to himself in a low voice. Well, guide me thither straightway, and with all warrantable haste to boot; I would be there by midnight. And it is now four after noon, I trow, replied the trooper, gazing toward the sun, the lower limb of which was already sink- ing into the topmost boughs of the tall forest-trees. We must ride hard then, Beau Sire; but well be there ere midnight, my head ont. I fain would counter blows with Talebard; I knew him long since when he was an honest man and a brave soldier, as now he is a foul thief and accursed murderer. I fain would counter blows with him. He is a stout lance, and a valorous a right good mau-at-arms. Yet it should go hard with me but I would match him. There were great lot to be won and glory, and no small guerdon either; why, his head now is worth forty pounds of silver well weighed out; and under such a leader as Monseigneur, I fear not we could win it. Well! we will reach Verneuil ere midnight, or Ill die fort. 80 [January, THE PENNY-POSTMAN NO. III. TO ANDREW JACKSON. (With afine engraving on steel.) Mv DEAR OLD GENERAL God bless your brave and honest old heart, but it is refreshing to sit down for a half-hours chat with you again, though it be but by letter and across many a hundred- mile! There are bonds of sympathy which link our hearts to you, which no distance of space can sunder or weaken wherever we may be scattered over the ever-spreading expanse of this our glorious Union of free republics. Nor, independent as it is of space, will time have any greater power to destroy that sentiment, at least in the breasts of the generation that has known you. And with the records of the noble deeds, in your countrys service, of your civil as of your military life, and with the deep and lasting traces left by them upon her history, we will bequeath to posteri- ty the duty of long continuing to cherish the venerated memory of your name with but little fear that they will soon prove for- getful of the sacred trust. I rejoice most sincerely, my dear old General, that your life has yet been spared to us to witness another return of the anni- versary of your memorable day of New Orleans for it will be probably just about on that day that this congratulation from one of the humblest but most attached of your old friends, will reach you. Through all the darkness of the year which witnessed the political revolution of the late Presidential election, I trembled lest the infirmities which have been so long gathering upon you, might bid us mourn your loss before that season of gloom should give place again to the brighter hour which I knew full well was soon destined to succeed it. The reports of your failing strength, and more frequent attacks of illness, came threateningly upon us from the Hermitage during that period; and we feared that that earnest and painful excitement of feeling, with which you must have watched its gathering disasters, crowned by their final con- summation, might too probably precipitate that event for which at such a time our grief would have been heavy and bitter indeed. What cognizance the departed spirit may retain of the course of events amidst the scenes of its past action and life here, we have no means of conjecture; but at least its parting hours must have been sadly darkened, with disappointment for the past and fore- boding for the future, had our alarm been realized; and had your last looks rested on the trophies of the recent political victory,

80 [January, THE PENNY-POSTMAN NO. III. TO ANDREW JACKSON. (With afine engraving on steel.) Mv DEAR OLD GENERAL God bless your brave and honest old heart, but it is refreshing to sit down for a half-hours chat with you again, though it be but by letter and across many a hundred- mile! There are bonds of sympathy which link our hearts to you, which no distance of space can sunder or weaken wherever we may be scattered over the ever-spreading expanse of this our glorious Union of free republics. Nor, independent as it is of space, will time have any greater power to destroy that sentiment, at least in the breasts of the generation that has known you. And with the records of the noble deeds, in your countrys service, of your civil as of your military life, and with the deep and lasting traces left by them upon her history, we will bequeath to posteri- ty the duty of long continuing to cherish the venerated memory of your name with but little fear that they will soon prove for- getful of the sacred trust. I rejoice most sincerely, my dear old General, that your life has yet been spared to us to witness another return of the anni- versary of your memorable day of New Orleans for it will be probably just about on that day that this congratulation from one of the humblest but most attached of your old friends, will reach you. Through all the darkness of the year which witnessed the political revolution of the late Presidential election, I trembled lest the infirmities which have been so long gathering upon you, might bid us mourn your loss before that season of gloom should give place again to the brighter hour which I knew full well was soon destined to succeed it. The reports of your failing strength, and more frequent attacks of illness, came threateningly upon us from the Hermitage during that period; and we feared that that earnest and painful excitement of feeling, with which you must have watched its gathering disasters, crowned by their final con- summation, might too probably precipitate that event for which at such a time our grief would have been heavy and bitter indeed. What cognizance the departed spirit may retain of the course of events amidst the scenes of its past action and life here, we have no means of conjecture; but at least its parting hours must have been sadly darkened, with disappointment for the past and fore- boding for the future, had our alarm been realized; and had your last looks rested on the trophies of the recent political victory, 1842.] To .Andrew Jackson. 81 commemorating the triumph of your ancient foes, and the over- throw of the friends whose beloved and honored chief you had so long been. But the cloud has passed away, and it has been permitted to your eye as to ours, to be made glad again by the return of the sunlight which for a time it so darkly veiled. All that you labor- ed, all that you endured, all that you dared, in your arduous strug- gle with the great money power of the country, centralized in the Bank of the United States, and individualized in the person of its President, was not in vain as at one moment it might perhaps have seemed. That confidence in the people, in whose behalf all was labored, and endured, and dared, which was your chief en- couragement and support through the whole, was not all a fond folly. The curse of another mammoth National Bank was not destined to be again fastened on the country; and the prompt re- covery of the popular mind, and its overwhelming reaction from the delusions which marked its brief political insanity of the year 1840, constitute but another evidence of the justice of our reli- ance upon the ultimate rectitude of its calm and sober judgment. You have noxv lived, my dear old General, to behold that which was the great question of your political career, settled beyond any remaining shadow of doubt or danger. Your success is as lasting in its ultimate, as it was complete in its immediate, effect; and a National Bank can now never again be rechartered under the pres- ent Constitution of this Union. If the Whigs succeeded in the fall of 40, it was only by means which involved the elements of their own necessary and swift destruction as a Party; and which afford the most decisive evidence of the final settlement, and the right settlement, of this long vexed question. The anti-Bank pro- fessions of their Presidential ticket alone secured its success. Consistency ~vith those professions has imposed on Mr. Tyler a moral necessity to pursue the course which we witnessed from him with so much satisfaction at the Extra Session, on this ques- tion. And the subsequent result of all the popular elections has now been such as to silence perforce all further cavil or contro- versy as to the deliberate and determined will of the people in relation to a National Bank. For this, brave and good old man, we are all indebted to you, more than to any other single individual, living or dead. You have done your workyou have fulfilled your missionenough for one man to have done and fulfilled. You may now lay down your gray hairs, to that repose of which I know that you have no dread, tranquil and triumphant. The couch of that last repose will be surrounded with the blessings and bedewed with the teatis VoL.X., No. XLIII.l1 82 The Penny-Postman..N~o. IlL [January, of a nation. The animosities which grew out of the vast pecuni- ary interests mingling themselves with the stormy political pas- sions of the times, and which centred upon you with a violence and bitterness unknown since the epoch when Jefferson was the object of the sameare now fast subsiding. Many of your most vehement opponents of a few years back, are now compelled to recognise the sagacity, not less than the bold patriotism, of the ground so early taken by you, and so firmly maintained, against the rechar- ter of the late Bank of the United States. You saw from the be- ginning, what time has too amply developed and proved, the in- ner moral rottenness, to ~vhich the outward fair seeming of that fatal institution was but the whiting of the sepulchre. Indepen- dently of the question of its constitutionality, you appreciated rightly the tremendous political as well as pecuniary power it was able to wieldits corrupting tendency, both upon those on whom its influence was brought to bear, and upon those wielding the control of its own administrationthe decided proclivity, already indicated by many significant symptoms, toward that abyss of bankruptcy and disgrace in which it is now sunkand the danger to the liberties, as well as to the true prosperity of the country, of allowing it again to strike deeper its Upas roots into our soil, by a national recharter. You saw and understood it thus, and no- bly performed the great duty which such a crisis brought on you; and many a former opponent who then deemed you fool or mad- man or worse, has now been taught by time and truth to look from the same point of view, to see and understand it in the same light, and to change into thanks and praise the execrations with which he was once wont to load your name. And the number of those is fast increasing; the friends of a National Bank, of any kind, rapidly dwindling; and the day is not distant which shall witness this question as no longer a subject of party division,and when that which is now but the voice of a majority, though a large and overwhelming majority, will become an unanimity of admiration and applause to you, as the Hercules who freed his country from a worse than Lerna~an or Nemean monster. I am very far from being an undiscriminating eulogist of your whole administration. It was not free from faults, of a grave character, which, like everything proceeding from your strong and heavy hand, have left no slight traces behind them on the di- rection and character of our politics. Your not infrequent bad appointments to office, into which you were misled by your per- sonal attachments, and by the generous impulses of your own noble and trusting heart, have done a great deal of mischief, immedi- ately or remotely. And, far worse, the extent to which you al 1842.] To .flndrew Jackson. 83 lowed similar motives to impel you, in the pernicious practice of political proscription, was a deep and serious evil. This charge has been n~ doubt greatly exaggerated; and no small pal- liation for it may be drawn from the extent to which the same practice was pursued by our opponents, wherever a local ascen- dency gave them the power. The fact remains, however, unde- niable, that you did carry it to a greater length than had ever be- fore been attempted by any administration,and that it was cal- culated deeply to vitiate the purity of our politics, by increasing the already too powerful action of Executive influence; by afford- ing a plea of retaliation to the opposite party; and by encourag- ing the introduction into the political struggle, on both sides, of interested motives of action, degrading in their nature at the same time that they embittered and inflamed. I say nothing of another leading feature of your administration, which, though perhaps a subject of some regret, I do not presume to make one of censure. I allude to the high and strong working of the machinery of the Executive office in your hands. This was forced on you by circumstances which you could not other- wise meet and conquer. Your position, throughout all that peri- od when you were denounced yourself as a violent assailant upon other departments of the government, and as an ambitious usurper of their rights and powers, was eminently conservative and defen- sive. For the maintenance of the high ground you had assumed, as the determined opponent of the recharter of the Bank, you were compelled by the pressure of attack upon you, by that pow- crful institution as well as by a great political party, to put forth to their utmost scope all the energies of the Executive arm. You did so, undoubtedly, with a free and bold hand; though the most violent clamor of opposition in vain attempted to fasten on you a charge of 4verstepping but a hairs-breadth the limits of consti- tution or law, in any one of your strongest acts of the character here referred to. It was a great crisis, and it brought with it great necessities and great duties. It cannot be denied that it is entirely hostile to the genius of American institutions that an Executive Chief Magistrate should assume an attitude antagonis- tical to the legislative departments of the government turning round, within a short time after their refusal to pursue a certain course recommended by him to them, and doing the act in ques- tion by virtue of his own independent authority. Irefer particu- larly to the celebrated order for the Removal of the Deposites. Yet peculiar circumstances may justify it,and indeed in the ac- tual case in question that very act was the noblest and best of your life. You acted on profound c9nvictions and under a heavy respon 84 The Penny-Postman. .JVo. 1191. [January, sibility. You knew the Congress to be unfaithful to their duty, to that great constituency toward which you occupied, equally with them, the representative relation. You knew that no small number of the members of that body occupied even a position of pecuniary dependance on the favor of the Bank, fatal to that freedom necessary to give a full moral weight to their acts or opinions. And, foreseeing the course the Bank was preparing to pursue, to inflict on the country a pressure of distress propor- tionate to its gigantic means of mischiefin so far curtailing the latter by transferring the public deposites to other banks, that they might be made the instrument to mitigate rather than to ag- gravate that distress, you acted perfectly right. Yet such acts are certainly of doubtful safety and dangerdus precedent. They are only to be hazarded on great occasions, for great motives, and by great men. You were indeed fully justified in it, both by the approval of your country, and by the evidence which time has since developed of the wisdom of that general policy which this act was an indispensable means of carrying into effect. Yet still I cannot but regret the necessity for straining so far as you did, throughout the course of your administration, the power and influence of your department of the government. For if the proper balance between it and the rest was not seriously deranged, it was certainly somewhat shaken. And though, under the mild and moderate administration of your successor, it may be said to have recovered itsjust poise, yet, sincere as are my attachment and gratitude to you, I have no desire ever again to witness a period, in the working of our complex system of government, in which the Executive office, wielded by another hand, shall absorb a de- gree of political power and influence so disproportionate to that of the other branches, and to the intention of the original framers of the system. In connexion with this point, however, there is one important idea which ought not to he lost sight of; namely, that although, rela- tively to the other departments of the government, you may have been compelled thus to ply the energies of your own to a point verging on a dangerous extreme, yet the general direction of the policy you thus labored to carry out tended really to diminish and weaken the action of the whole federal governmentthe Execu- tive, of course, inclusive. That policy was a self-denying one, being in direct antagonism to the consolidating policy of the par- ty by which you were kept under an incessant pressure of attack. You were constantly refusing to allow the federal government to assume powers which your opponents insisted on forcing upon it. Your action was negative it was theirs which was positive. 1842.] To .lndrew Jackson. 85 The word which expressed your position, and which was used to represent you, was VETO, Iforl3id! You denied to the federal government the Internal Improvement power, and forbade it though the execution of the laws which you thus arrested would bave conferred on your office an amount of power, influence, and patronage, growing ou~ of the disbursement of such vast sums of money over the whole extent of the Union, greater perhaps than contained in the whole aggregate of its ordinary and legiti- mate functions. So, too, you denied to the federal government the power of placing itself in alliance with the great money pow- er of the country, as embodied in a national bank, the head, cen- tre, and controlling power, of the whole credit and paper-money system. You denied its constitutional competency, as well as the good policy of rechartering such an institutionthough there can be no doubt that such an alliance would give to any adminis- tration a hold upon power which the strongest opposition that could be brought against it might perhaps vainly essay to shake. It is true that in the substitute you adopted, as the only alterna- tive then practicable, you committed a mistake which proved a very fatal one in more respects than one. Bad as was the fiscal system of a great bank chartered by and dependant on the fed- eral government, the State Bank Deposite system, of which you made an experiment as a choice of evils, was not much better. Yet so far as regards the question of federal power, this course was a denegation of power; and I know well that you had no anticipation of that weight of influence, centering in the Treas- ury Department, which was found to grow out of the control of the vast surplus revenue then accumulating, distributed on depos- ite among a large number of State banks, and which in bad hands might have proved a very mischievous and dangerous power. And we all know that at best you never looked upon that system with any very cordial liking. Its adoption was avowedly experi- mental, as an alternative which seemed at the time a necessity, as the temporary expedient of an emergency, as a refuge from a greater evil. You adopted it not as a system, but on the ground expressly stated in the celebrated Cabinet paper of Sept. 18th, 1833, that the question of the recharter of the Bank had now been set at rest by your reelection and the popular confirmation of your Vetothat there appeared no reason to anticipate the establishment of any substitute by Congressand that, being bound to regulate his course by the laws as they exist, and not to anticipate the interference of the legislative power, for the purpose of framing new systems, it was proper for the President seasonably to consider the means by which the services rendered 86 The Penny-Postman. JVo HI. [January, by the Bank of the United States should be performed after its charter should expire. The approach of that event made the early selection of other depositories necessary, in order to allow the change to take place gradually and gently; and the State banks were there, ready at hand, and affording the only other con- venient or possible receptacles for the public funds admitted of by the existing state of the law. But they were far from being your willing choice. You had already, as early as the year 1830, dis- tinctly shadowed out the idea of a very different system, to which, at the time of the removal of the deposites, you again made an allusion; which contained in fact so near an approach to your successors subsequent inspiration of the Independent Treasury, as to afford another evidence of your strong native sagacity, tru- ly remarkable when we comliare the immaturity of public opin- ion of that early day, in relation to thi~ whole subject, with the more enlightened understanding of it, which has grown out of the experience as well as the discussions of the last few years. I allude, my dear General, to that celebrated suggestion con- tained in your annual message of 1830, which has been so perse- veringly misrepresented by your opponents, that a great many persons, who neglect to recur to the language of the document itself, have really been made to believe that you were then in favor of a national bank. The truth is that though you unfor- tunately used the word bank in the suggestion- you then threw out for the consideration of Congress and the country, the plan of which you sketched the general outline contained little, if any- thing, to which such a name could be at all applicable. That plan was little else than the Independent Treasury, without the Specie Clausefor ~vhich latter feature public opinion was not yet ripe. Permit me to do you justice on this point by quoting your own words: It is thought practicable to organize such a bank with necessary offi- cers, as a branch of the Treasury Department, based on the public and individual deposites, without power to make loans or purchase property, which shall remit the funds of the government, and the expense of which may be paid, if thought advisable, by allowing its officers to sell bills of exchange to private individuals at a moderate premium. Not being a corporate body, having no stockholders, debtors, or property, and but few officers, it would not be obnoxious to the constitutional objections which are urged against the present bank; and having no means to operate on the hopes, fears, or interests of large masses of the community, it would be shorn of the influence which makes that bank formidable. The states would be strengthened by having in their hands the means of furnishing the local paper currency through their own banks; while the Bank of the 1842.] To andrew Jackson. 87 United States, though issuing no paper, would check the issues of the state banks, by taking their notes in deposite, and for exchange, only so long as they continue to be redeemed with specie. The plan here distinctly though briefly stated has no other attribute of a bank thnn the faculty of receiving individual deposites an unnecessary and unimportant concession to the prevalent ideas of the propriety of seeking to furnish commercial conveniences to individuals, in the transaction of the fiscal busi- ness of the government. It proposes nothing more than to add to the Treasury Department the machinery necessary to enable it to transact that business as an Independent Treasury. No pa- per was to be issued no loans madeno property of any kind boughtno dealing in exchange even allowed, beyond the sim- ple sale of bills on the points of accumulation of the revenue, at a moderate premium, for the purpose of actually transmitting the government funds, according to convenience, to any point at which they might be needed. This feature would no more con- stitute a bank, than every individual merchant who sells a bill on distant funds becomes by that act a banker. And although no general bank suspension had yet suggested the necessity of the specie clause, yet the concluding words evidently contemplate a pretty stern check upon the tendency of the State banks to ex- cess since it cannot be supposed that the specie-paying paper thus received could be meant to be kept long on hand in depos- ite; and under vigilant administration, prompt presentation and short settlements would have made the influence of such a fiscal system on the currency not very different from what would have been the full operation of the Independent Treasury. However, enough of politics, past or present ! though there are not a few topics, my dear old friend, on which I would like to extend a little further the last letter I shall ever probably write to you. We have all read with peculiar delight the letters in which you have yourself lately appeared in the papers. The stamp of your own generous, true, and noble nature shines beau- tifully on their every line. The letter in reply to a New York committee, in which you pay so magnanimous a tribute to your successor in the Presidential Chair, at what common men would deem your own expense admitting the more arduous nature of the difficulties through which his administration had had to strug- gle, than those which had encompassed your ownhow like yourself! And again your letter to Mr. Butler, your late Attor- ney-General, vindicating him from the imputation which had been east upon him, as a cabinet officer, of an unworthy subservience to your dictationand volunteering so generously the statement that 88 Tk~e Penny-Postman. .7Vo. III. [January, the reverse had been in a remarkable degree the truth; and that not only had that gentleman very frequently, as a member of your ad- - ministration, opposed your own views and resisted your own im- pulses, but that on many occasions you had with great advantage to the public service surrendered your own impressions to his argu- ments and counsels. Good and great old man how little they have known you, who have been wont to pour out on the venerable honors of your gray hairs all the vials of their venom and wrath in every term of hate and rage! I have often wished, during some of the stormiest periods of your Presidency, that some of those whom I have thus heard denouncing and outraging your name, could but behold some of the placid and beautiful scenes of your domestic life at that very time could see you, at the close of the day, listening to the reading of the Bible, from the lips of that fair young creature, seated at your knee, whose voice now sounds to the ear of memory alone, or rising, uncomplain- ingly, in the middle of the night, to quiet the fretfulness of an in- fant grandchild, by dragging it in its wicker carriage, for an hour or two at a time, to and fro the long and spacious corridors of the Presidential mansion, or, when unwell, receiving a sudden visit of important business in bed, and being surprised with an open prayer-book lying on the coverlet, and close by your side on a small table, and propped against your favorite Bible, the portrait of your wife. How many a scene and an occasion of this kind are famil- iar to the recollection of your friends exhibiting the most touch- ing pictures of a domestic life which a sweet kindliness and good- ness of heart made beautiful in all its relations a glimpse of which would have put to shame and silence the abusive calumnies which were not less rife respecting your private than your public life! Farewell, good and dear old friend! You never heeded those calumnies then you as little heed the remembrance of them now. But lay this assurance pleasantly to your heart, that what- ever may have been their party animosities, there are but few Americans living who, when the hour shall come which shall bid us mourn the going out of a great light from the midst of us, will not recognise and confess that after all, and through all, at the bottom of their hearts they loved you, respected you, and admired you, as a great soul, a true heart, a well-meaning patriot, and a genuine man every inch of you. Very affectionately, Your humble friend, THE PENNY-POSTMAN. 1842.] 89 THE SHAME OF ENGLAND.* WE are not going to review Mr. Lesters singular hodge-podge of a book. We let it pass with all its imperfections on its head. It has one feature which, to our view, would redeem worse faults. We mean the indignant testimony which the au- thor bears to the ~SHAME of ENGLAND, for the huge and hideous national sin of which she is daily and hourly guilty, in her oppres- sion of her poor. Of this we are not accustomed to hear much from our returning travellers; who, as they are whirled over the highly cultivated surface of that most beautiful and most wretched of islands, rarely suffer their eye to rest long on any less pleasing objects than the luxury which forms the flowery capital to the social column; together with the loveliness of natural scenery through which they passinterspersml with the grand old remains of feudal and ecclesiastical antiquity, which they cannot ride for a day without beholding, in castle or cathedral, ruined abbey or ivy- mantled village church. The American in England, thrown by his introductions almost exclusively into those classes of society whose perfumed atmosphere is never infected by the dark and deathly noisomeness that broods over the wretched homes of her laboring masses, imbibes, insensibly, that same indifference to this awful national truth, in which the member of those favored upper orders moves through his con-ifortable routine of life, from morning to night, and from cradle to grave. Though the American is not entirely blind to the existence of the fact though he may know it, and see it, and even write it, yet it rare- ly claims from him more than a careless passing observation; a few set phrases of abstract regret and censure; a dark page or two in a whole volume whose every other leaf glows with descrip- tions of the elegance and the richness with which his own eyes have been dazzled, and of the comfort, taste, and apparent hap- piness surrounding those homes in which he has sought all his impressions of English life. Mr. Lester goes into this great and fearful fact with a hearty earnestness, a true democratic sympathy, for which we honor him, and for which we can freely forgive him all the egotisms, the superlatives, the puerilities, and the tricks of book- making, which abound through his two volumes. We wish that more such travellers would go to England, and through England, and come back and tell us of all they have seennot in the pal- ace, but in the prison and the poor-housenot in the magnificent The Glory and the Shame ofEngland. By C. Edwards Lester. 2 vols., l2mo: New York, Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff-st. 1841. VOL. X., No. XLIIJ.12

1842.] 89 THE SHAME OF ENGLAND.* WE are not going to review Mr. Lesters singular hodge-podge of a book. We let it pass with all its imperfections on its head. It has one feature which, to our view, would redeem worse faults. We mean the indignant testimony which the au- thor bears to the ~SHAME of ENGLAND, for the huge and hideous national sin of which she is daily and hourly guilty, in her oppres- sion of her poor. Of this we are not accustomed to hear much from our returning travellers; who, as they are whirled over the highly cultivated surface of that most beautiful and most wretched of islands, rarely suffer their eye to rest long on any less pleasing objects than the luxury which forms the flowery capital to the social column; together with the loveliness of natural scenery through which they passinterspersml with the grand old remains of feudal and ecclesiastical antiquity, which they cannot ride for a day without beholding, in castle or cathedral, ruined abbey or ivy- mantled village church. The American in England, thrown by his introductions almost exclusively into those classes of society whose perfumed atmosphere is never infected by the dark and deathly noisomeness that broods over the wretched homes of her laboring masses, imbibes, insensibly, that same indifference to this awful national truth, in which the member of those favored upper orders moves through his con-ifortable routine of life, from morning to night, and from cradle to grave. Though the American is not entirely blind to the existence of the fact though he may know it, and see it, and even write it, yet it rare- ly claims from him more than a careless passing observation; a few set phrases of abstract regret and censure; a dark page or two in a whole volume whose every other leaf glows with descrip- tions of the elegance and the richness with which his own eyes have been dazzled, and of the comfort, taste, and apparent hap- piness surrounding those homes in which he has sought all his impressions of English life. Mr. Lester goes into this great and fearful fact with a hearty earnestness, a true democratic sympathy, for which we honor him, and for which we can freely forgive him all the egotisms, the superlatives, the puerilities, and the tricks of book- making, which abound through his two volumes. We wish that more such travellers would go to England, and through England, and come back and tell us of all they have seennot in the pal- ace, but in the prison and the poor-housenot in the magnificent The Glory and the Shame ofEngland. By C. Edwards Lester. 2 vols., l2mo: New York, Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff-st. 1841. VOL. X., No. XLIIJ.12 90 The Shame ~f England. [January, squares of the West End, but in the infinite labyrinth of squalid lanes and alleys of the City not in the castellated hall, em- bosomed in its beautiful park, and dominating the fair estates which spread around it over half a county, but in the hungry hut of the laborer whose sweat and tears have moistened their soil into all that teeming fertilitynot in the luxurious mansion of the mil- lionaire manufacturer, but in those huge piles in which his hun- dreds and thousands of half-starved slaves are sighing away their blighted lives, in a degradation and wretchedness to which no parallel is to be sought in any human bondage, the existence of which we may have to lament in any part of our own land. Let more such travellers as Mr. Lester, we repeat, look into these things with an American eye, understand them and feel them with an American heart, and then tell them to uswe care little in what fashion~--with a bold and free American tongue, and we shall not long have to deplore that extensive prevalence among us of English ideas, and of the spirit of the English system, which we derive from the literature made our own by a community of lan- guage, and which is the heaviest clog upon the free movement and development of our democratic civilization. But we abstain from commentary of our own, on a subject on 5 which, forcibly as it is suggested by the perusal of these volumes, it is difficult to restrain the strong language prompted by that strong feeling which we have no hesitation in avowingwhich we should blush, not to entertain. The very brief space remain- ing at our disposal in the present Number, we prefer to give to one or two extracts from Mr. Lesters own pages. The following is given, in confirmation of the authors own statements, on the testimony of a gentleman whom Mr. Lester describes as a witness of high personal authority a native of Scotland, the present superintendent in one of the largest cotton factories in the State of New York, perfectly familiar with the practical operation of the system on both sides of the Atlantic, and who returned in the spring of l84~O from Great Britain, where he had spent several months in collecting information in regard to the English manufactories, for the benefit of the company which employed him: Wherever I went, in the manufacturing districts, said he, I saw extreme pov- erty, ignorance, and suffering. I did not find a factory in England where the opera- tives seemed to be comfortable; no one where there was not much that was painful to witness. As a general thing, the overlookers are stern and tyrannical, and the operatives expect few favors: the poor are very degraded in England, or they would not bear such treatment. Said an overlooker of a factory in the north of England to me, How do you manage to get along with republican operatives? 1 never would superintend a facto- ry where I could not do as I pleaeed with myhands. Here we can make them behave; 184~2j The shame of England. 91 they know they are in our power, where they ought to be, and they walk straight. I never would go round the mill and request a hand to do this or that; I would give him my order, and if that didnt do I would give him something else. I have been in the United States, and I wouldnt stay there. You cant find a man, woman, or child there, that dont feel as good as his employer.~ This same spirit pervades the whole body of proprietors and overlookers: there are some exceptions to the general rule, but, as a class, they are overbearing and ex- acting. I have many times seea a child knocked to the floor by a blow on the side of the head, which stunned him. I have often seen little girls and women kicked un- mercifully in the mills, for the slightest mistakes, that an American superintendent would overlook, or only reprove in a kind way. Beating and kicking are the most common ways of administering reproof; and, of course, you will find a down-cast look and a slavish air about the operatives. The children never have a stool or chair to sit on, when they have a short mo. ment of rest from their work. In our factories we let all the hands have a chair to rest in during these intervals. When we think, that in following a pair of spinning. mules in Manchester, a child must walk over 20 miles in a day; and with the ha. proved machinery recently introduced, the distance is increased to 25 or 26 miles; and that the child has frequently to walk several miles to and from the factory, we see the cruelty of not allowing them a seat to rest on when their work is for a mo- ment suspended. And I think the morals of the English operatives must be very depraved. I saw multitudes of women with their persons most immodestly exposed, at their work; and heard a good deal of lewd conversation between the different sexes. Many of the children, also, in some of the mills, are nearly naked. Indeed, it is impossible, I think, to preserve much purity among persons accustomed to such habits. Some of the English operatives receive nearly as high wages for their work as we pay; but they work harder to get their money, and it will not go more than half as far (nor that, I think) in procuring the necessaries of life. I went into the houses of many of the hands, and, almost without exception, they were filthy, gloomy places. Few of the comforts of life were to be seen there; and the stench was dreadfully offensive. Animal food they seldom eat, potatoes and the coarsest bread being almost their entire food: and but few of them have enough of this. The operatives nearly all look unhealthy pallid, sallow, and worn-out; desti- tute of spirits and enfeebled by privation and hard work. The apprenticed children are very often treated with greater cruelty than slaves, and are, perhaps, much worse off. (This, too, is the language of a warm abolitionist.) The hand-loom weavers are as bad off as they can he: they work nearly all the time they are not asleep, and, being obliged to compete with powerful labor-saving machinery, receive only a few pennies a day for their work. They are a very misera- ble class of laborers. I saw no factories where the work seems to cut down the operatives, and bring them to the grave so quick as the worsted mills. The rooms are heated up to 120 degrees of Fahrenheits thermometer; they are not ventilated, as the fresh or cool air would injure the fabric in its process of manufacture; and thus the hands are obliged to work in apartments heated like furnaces. I am a pretty strong man, but I never step into these rooms without feeling the perspiration start in one second from every pore. I could stay in none of them more than two or three minutes; and as soon as I came out into the fresh air again, even in the warmest days, a chill went over me. No person can live long in these factories. The children nearly all die of consumption in a short time; and I never cast my eyes upon so pale and emaciated a set of human beings in my life. I would lay it down as a general principle, that the English operatives are sacri- ficed to the spirit of trade. I think the English people are as much infatuated with it, and will practise as much cruelty and injustice towards their operatives in secu- xing the interests of trade, as do the Sonthrons in raising cot ton. The truth is, that in England, while the rich and the noble have all that the heart can desire, the poor 92 The Shame of England. [January, man there is a slave. It is an insult to the spirit of freedom and to the common sense of mankind, for England to talk about the liberty of her people. In England, noth- ing makes a man free but money. Vol. I. pp. 206210. Mr Lester devotes to the subject of the Corn-Laws a letter which he addresses, in his second volume, to Mr. John C. Spencer. We would extract the whole of it, if in our power. We must content ourselves with a few quotations from it, and even for that purpose are compelled to postpone our usual monthly account of the new works which have accumulated on our table,with which we conclude our notice of this book, recommending it, with all its faults, to as extensive a circulation among American readers, as either author or publishers can desire: By this bill the English landlord defends himself against all the world, and en- joys a monopoly in the sale of bread-stuffs so long as he has any to sell; and when famine has bought him out, he permits grain to be imported all but duty free. It was designed by the framers of this law, that it should not fix so high and permanent a duty as would absolutely exclude foreign grain in times of great scarcity, or famine; for then the people would have risen, as a last resort, atid thrown off the government; and the monopolists nicely calculated how hungry the people could be kept from the beginning to the end of the year without rebellion. To secure to him the entire mo- nopoly of grain, the law allows the landholder to charge about double its ordinary price on the Continent and in America; this sliding tariff growing less and less, and tapering to a point of nominality, as famine, with her thousand horrors, approaches. This brief sketch will give some idea of that deep-laid scheme to reach the daily wages of the laboring man of England, in driving competition to a distance by exele- ding foreign grain, excep~t in periods of great scarcity bordering on famine Whet do the corn laws cost the English people? It is estimated that the consump- tion of grain of all kinds in the kingdom is sixty million quarters per annum. Twelve years ago MCulloch supposed the amount to be only a little less than this; and since then there has been a great increase of population. The consumption of all other kinds of agricultural produce is, without doubt, equal to the total consumption of grain. Supposing the effect of the corn-laws to be to raise the price of grain only lOs. a quarter higher than it would be were foreign grain freely imported, it follows that the burden of the bread-tax is equal to the enormous sum of three hundred million dollars ayear: a sum exceeding the whole expenditure of the government, including the interest of the national debt. But it can be showa to the satisfaction of every reasonable man, that the corn- laws nearly double the price of grain. Mr. 0. R. Porter, of the Board of Trade, in his valuable work on this subject, states that the average price of wheat in Prussia for the last twenty-two years has been only 31s. 2d. a quarter, while the price, during the same period, has been 61*. in London. The testimony of some of the most respectable physicians has confirmed the opin. ion, that multitudes starve to death in England every year. Says the learned and humane Dr. Howard, in a recent work on this subject: The public generally have a very inadequate idea of the number of persons who perish annually from deficiency of food; and there are few who would not be painfully sur- prised if an accurate record of such cases were presented to them - It is true, that in this country instances of death from total abstinence only casually occur; yet every medical man whose duties have led him much among the poor; who is famil- iar with the extreme destitution which often prevails among them, and the diseases thereby occasioned, is too often a witness of fatal results from gradual and protract. ed starvation! Although death directly produced by hunger may be rare, there can be no doubt that a very large proportion of the mortality among the laboring classes is attributable to deficiency of food as a main cause, aided by too long continued toil and 1842.1 The Shame of England. 93. exestson, without adequate repose, insufficient clothing, exposure to cold, and other privations to which the poor are subjected. CC He states that their houses are almost destitute of furniture; comfortless and uncleanly; too often damp, cold, and ill ventilated. Many live in dark cellars, in the midst of filth and putrefaction, by which the atmosphere is rendered foul and un- fit for respiration, a due circulation of air being impossible. Their families are ill fed, scantily clothed, and badly lodged, three or four persons being frequently crowd. ed together in the sam~ bed, which is often filthy and deficient of covering. They live much on innutritious and indigestible food, and often use articles of bad quality, or such as are rendered unwholesome by adulteration, or hy being too long kept. Cdt is easy to see how all these potent causes of disease become aggravated when- ever there is a scarcity of bread or ot employment, both of which are either directly caused or terribly augmented by the corn-laws. The scanty furniture and clothing of the poor become at such times still more scanty, all that can possibly be spared being sold or pawned for food; their houses and beds become more crowded from more living together to save rent; their dwellings are worse ventilated, for every cranny by which air could enter is choked up, that they may be warm without the expense of fuel; because of their debilitated condition they drink more gin to raise their depressed spirits, the quantity taken being more injurious; and while deep de- spair settles upon them, hunger gnaws at their vitals. Dr. Howard says, that if the horrible results of the corn-laws upon the health of the poor could be fully known, it would send a chill to every heart in Britain. The catalogue of miseries he enumerates is truly frightful. He states, that while many, under the keen cravings of hunger, make their cry heard in the ears of their fellow- men, many more, in the sullen despair of poverty, hide away in their cellars, where they lie in a listless, lethargic state, until death comes to their relief. But, says he,In estimating the mortality among the destitute poor from scarcity of food, we must not forget that the result is still the same, whether the privation is so complete as to destroy life in ten days, or so slight and gradual that the fatal event does not oc- cur till after many months suffering.~ C~But let us look for a moment at the condition of the happiest peasantry in the world. The operatives are not the only nor the worst sufferers from the corn-laws. It can be proved, that in some of the richest counties of England the average earnings of the peasantry are far less per head (man, woman, and child) than the average cost of merely feeding the inmates (man, woman, and child) of their work-houses! Look abroad among the thatched hamlets and little villages of England; over its waving fields of grain and verdant plains of pasture; among those scenes, which seem like enchanted grounds to the traveller from the top of the coach: you could find in almost every house a confirmation of the words of the working-men of Shef- field in their address to the English people: CC IN ENGLAND, THOSE WHO TILL THE EARTH, AND HAKE IT LOvELY AI~D FRUITFUL BY THEIR LABOR5~ ARE ONLY ALLOWED THE ~ SHARE OF THE HANY BLESSINGS THEY It will assist the reader in forming a correct idea of this subject, if we consider the demoralizing tendency of the corn-laws, in connexion with the distress they oc- casion. Says the Devonshire Chronicle, It is become a subject of deep regret to find the many repeated acts of robbery committed among sheep, pigs, poultry, and potatoes, besides breaking open houses, abstracting part of their contents, & c. It should be no matter of surprise that men, whose average earnings are only eight shillings a week (finding themselves), have been driven to acts of robbery to eke out their own and their families subsistence. Lord Chief-justice Hale, who wrote in the time of Charles II., says, If the laborer cannot earn enough to feed his fami- ly. he must make it up either by begging or stealing. When the great National Anti-Corn-law Petition, signed by half a million, was pres~nted in Parliament, Mr. Wakeley, a member of the House, stated, that .for many years, to his certain knowledge, the laborers of Devonshire (the garden of 94 The Shame of England. [January, England) had received less than seven shillings a week as the average price of their labor. Says the eloquent and philanthropic editor of the Anti-Corn-law Circular: We have had a conversation with a gentleman who has just returned from a tour in Devonshire, and we find his account of the deplorable condition of the peasantry of that rich and beautiful county more than confirms the appalling statements we gave some time ago. Our informant has travelled over Ireland and Scotland, and he says that even there he never saw equal wretchedness. In passing through one of the manufacturing towns, I was arrested by this re- volting announcement: Two guineas reward. An unnatural mother last night, about seven oclock, left her female infant on the steps of the cellar umler No. 2 Back Cotton-street, Allum- Street, Ancoats-lane, apparently nbt more than half an hour old. The child was, with the exception of a cap pinned over her mouth, and being laid on a white factory bat, quite naked and unwashed from its birth. Unnatural mother! I should have exclaimed, had I not known she was driven to it by oppression. Is it possible to suppose that the feelings of a mother towards her dear infant, in a civilized country, could be so smothered by any thing short of abso- lute and clamant necessity? Is it to be imagined, had trade been free, and corn un- taxed, and bread thereby cheap, that fond affection, whose depth only a mothers heart can tell, and which even the wild beasts of the forest never lose for their ynung, would have ceased to draw her with cords of love to her child, or that she would have left it on the steps of a cellar to perish? It was but half an hour old! What could have driven her so soon to forsake it? DEAR BREAD! It was quite naked and unwashed from its birth! What terrible necessity could have stifled the cries of mighty Nature, and tramped out in a moth- ers breast the glowing fire of maternal devotion? The jewelling of the peers coro- net, the diamond necklace of the young countess, the race-horses of the squire, all bought with high rents, artificially enhanced by protective duties, which make DEAR BREAD. This is the answer. A time will come when the cries of Nature will speak in a voice of thunder to all the hollow forms that make up the sum of institutions in modern British society; and when humanity, no longer insulted, and religion, no longer unheard, shall con- strain dukes to go a foot, and duchesses to go without earrings, ere infants not more than half an hour old, naked and unwashed from their birth, shall be left to perish on the steps of cellars, because the mothers have not food to supply their own clam- orous necessities. I know you often boast of your generosity to the poor; but, good Heaven! speak not of that. Are not your wines purchased with widows tears? is not your venison sauced with orphans hunger? You are the taunt of the world! You roll your chariot wheels over the crushed hearts of your fellow-men. Shame, too, upon England for bearing these things so long; and tenfold shame upon you who bRtten upon these cruel laws. You are plunderers of the poor; and whether you be duke, earl, marquis, or viscount, cease robbing the helpless, or aban- don your pon~pous titles. It matters little what nickname a robber has; the world only thinks the Worse of you for being a duke, when you steal from Gods poor. - - - The Rev. Daniel Hearne, a Catholic priest, at a meeting of ministers at Manches- ter, said: The meeting could scarcely form a conception of the misery and destitu- tion prevailing in the district, of which he was a witness on this occasion. He went lately to administer the consolations of religion to a poor dying woman. On arriving at her bedside, she seemed to be alone; he asked if she was. Johnny! said she, and immediately a sack in the corner of the room began to move, and then another began to move; and out of these tumbled the poor womans sons, their only bed be. ing the inside of sacks filled with shavings. He had about 25,000 of his flock living within haIfa mile of his chapel. Scarcely a single Catholic, unless in cases of sudden death, breathed his last without sending forthe priest; and of theseand he spoke from personal observationat least one hsslf died from starvation! i~2. r 95 MONTHLY FINANCIAL AND COMMERCIAL ARTICLE. THE events of the past month continue, in a marked degree~, to illustrate the great struggle that is going on between the real substantial business of the country, upon a cash basis, and the efforts of the paper credit system to sustain itself. In former articles we have endeavored to point out the evi- dences of the present great commercial prosperity of the country, in contradis- tinction to the distress and bankruptcy that are overwhelming all paper credits. The cries of the speculators, jobbers, and stockholders, whose misfortunes are great, have been mistaken for evidences of distress among the industrious masses of the people. This is a great error. The mercantile business and real wealth of the country were never greater than at this moment, when this pseudo credit may scarcely be said to exist. A curious illustration of this fact may be found in the state of the public revenue. At the late extra session of Congress, it is well known that a loan of $12,000,000 was authorized for the use of the general government, at a rate of interest not to exceed six per cent. At the time this loan was created, the receipts into the Treasury for the year were estimated by Mr. Clay and others not to exceed $12,000,000, and Mr. Clay notified Congress that a new loan of $16,000,000 would be required at the present session. These measures grew out of the fact that the business of the country was underrated, and the ability to borrow money overrated, as is evident from the result; for while the government has offered its loan in every possible shape, it has been unable to obtain more than $5,432,726. On the contrary, the receipts from the customs have exceeded the estimates near $5,000,000. The receipts in New York for the third quarter of 1841 exceeded those of the corresponding quarter in 1840 by fifty per cent. This is a remarkable fact; and when we take into considera tion that these imports have not been the proceeds of money borrowed abroad, but are in exchange for exports of our produce, it in an eminent manner cor- roborates our view of the state of the commerce of the country. The evidences of the increased internal trade are strongly indicated in the comparative returns of the tolls on the New York State canals, and also of the Welland canal, which are as follows for the season of 1841 as compared with 1840: TOLLS ON THE NEW YoaK STATE CANALS, AND ON TIlE WELLAND CANAL, roa 1840 AND 1841. 1840 1841 Increase. Erie Canal $1,597,334 $1,812,668 215,333 Champlain do 102,627 117,728 15,300 Oawego 29,522 38,169 8,646 Caynga and Seneca do 18,848 23,544 8,696 Cheniung do 4,958 9,396 4,438 Crooked Lake do 1,703 2,012 288 Chenango 14,001 18,~63 4,761 Seneca valley 6,930 9,926 2,995 Oneida Lake 460 Seneca River Tow Path 834 Total $1,775,767 $2,033,504 $257,757 Welland Canal $72,132 75,335 3,203 These figures demonstrate the improved condition of the inland trade of the country over that of last year; and by examination of the points at which the greatest receipts are made on the line of the Erie canal, we find evidence that the causes are general ones, operating upon the whole business of the Union. For instance, the receipts at tide-water, which show the quantity of merchandise sent inland, present a great increase, and likewise the receipts at the extreme end of the canal, showing the quantity of produce received from other States, in- dicate an increase, while a great decrease is manifest at those intermediate points

i~2. r 95 MONTHLY FINANCIAL AND COMMERCIAL ARTICLE. THE events of the past month continue, in a marked degree~, to illustrate the great struggle that is going on between the real substantial business of the country, upon a cash basis, and the efforts of the paper credit system to sustain itself. In former articles we have endeavored to point out the evi- dences of the present great commercial prosperity of the country, in contradis- tinction to the distress and bankruptcy that are overwhelming all paper credits. The cries of the speculators, jobbers, and stockholders, whose misfortunes are great, have been mistaken for evidences of distress among the industrious masses of the people. This is a great error. The mercantile business and real wealth of the country were never greater than at this moment, when this pseudo credit may scarcely be said to exist. A curious illustration of this fact may be found in the state of the public revenue. At the late extra session of Congress, it is well known that a loan of $12,000,000 was authorized for the use of the general government, at a rate of interest not to exceed six per cent. At the time this loan was created, the receipts into the Treasury for the year were estimated by Mr. Clay and others not to exceed $12,000,000, and Mr. Clay notified Congress that a new loan of $16,000,000 would be required at the present session. These measures grew out of the fact that the business of the country was underrated, and the ability to borrow money overrated, as is evident from the result; for while the government has offered its loan in every possible shape, it has been unable to obtain more than $5,432,726. On the contrary, the receipts from the customs have exceeded the estimates near $5,000,000. The receipts in New York for the third quarter of 1841 exceeded those of the corresponding quarter in 1840 by fifty per cent. This is a remarkable fact; and when we take into considera tion that these imports have not been the proceeds of money borrowed abroad, but are in exchange for exports of our produce, it in an eminent manner cor- roborates our view of the state of the commerce of the country. The evidences of the increased internal trade are strongly indicated in the comparative returns of the tolls on the New York State canals, and also of the Welland canal, which are as follows for the season of 1841 as compared with 1840: TOLLS ON THE NEW YoaK STATE CANALS, AND ON TIlE WELLAND CANAL, roa 1840 AND 1841. 1840 1841 Increase. Erie Canal $1,597,334 $1,812,668 215,333 Champlain do 102,627 117,728 15,300 Oawego 29,522 38,169 8,646 Caynga and Seneca do 18,848 23,544 8,696 Cheniung do 4,958 9,396 4,438 Crooked Lake do 1,703 2,012 288 Chenango 14,001 18,~63 4,761 Seneca valley 6,930 9,926 2,995 Oneida Lake 460 Seneca River Tow Path 834 Total $1,775,767 $2,033,504 $257,757 Welland Canal $72,132 75,335 3,203 These figures demonstrate the improved condition of the inland trade of the country over that of last year; and by examination of the points at which the greatest receipts are made on the line of the Erie canal, we find evidence that the causes are general ones, operating upon the whole business of the Union. For instance, the receipts at tide-water, which show the quantity of merchandise sent inland, present a great increase, and likewise the receipts at the extreme end of the canal, showing the quantity of produce received from other States, in- dicate an increase, while a great decrease is manifest at those intermediate points 96 Monthly Financial and Commercial Article. [Januaty, where the produce of New York State enters the canal, showing that the effect of the policy of the State government has been, as far as in its power lay, to retard the business of the State, while the effect of the financial and commer- cial policy of the late federal administration has been to improve the trade of the whole Union, and of course to throw into the treasury of the State of New York an increase of revenue for the use of that great channel of communication, the Erie canal, between the Western States and the Atlantic cities. The effects of the increased imports have been felt in the foreign exchange mar- ket, and were an operating cause to produce those shipments of specie that have been so extensive; but another cause has also been the fact that large amounts of stock have been sent here for sale, the proceeds to be remitted home in specie. Notwithstanding these extraordinary demands, and the fact that no supply hns been afforded by foreign credits, the rates of bills have fallen to a point that has caused shipments of specie nearly to cease. The rates of bills are as fol- lows: RATES OF FORETON nILLS IN NEW Yoax. Oct. 15 Nov. 15 Nov. 22 Nov. 50. Dec. 16. London 91a10 l0a10~ tJ~a10 9ia9~.........9a9* France 517Aa518l....520a521 a525 5231a525 525a526 Amsterdam 4%a4O~ 40~a40~ 401a 401 4Oa40~ 391a40k Hamburg a 361 36~ a 36t 361a 361 36~i36~ 36ka36~ Bremen 781a79 78ka75~ 78a78~....:...7ga78~. 761a77k The shipments of specie from New York and Boston have been near $6,000,000 since August last, and produced in the earlier part of the present month a strict curtailment on the part of our city Banks; that is, they discounted considerably less than their current receipts. They were induced to this course not so much from any real inconvenience arising from the drain for specie, as from fears as to its probable extent and duration. For the past week, however, the supply of bills having increased, they have again extended their discounts to the amount of their receipts. It is a fact, that notwithstanding the large exports of specie, the amount of the precious metals held by the Banks here is quite as large as that held at the same time last year, and the sum held by the Boston Banks, according to the official returns, has increased $150,000, showing conclusively that the drain has been entirely from the suspended sections, where it is rejected in favor of irredeemable paper as a circulating medium. The continued fall in stocks, and the depreciation of property, have at last begun to attract the attention of stockholders to the manner in which the bank- ing institutions are managed. It is a well known fact, that men of limited means worm themselves into the direction of moneyed institutions, and become themselves heavy borrowers of the Banks means, on long time, wherewith to conduct their individual business. It is by these means that the resources of the institutions become gradually locked up in unavailable securities, and they are eventually stuffed with real estate, and depreciated stock taken for debt. The substantial class of stockholders, who are desirous of doing a regular busi- ness, and who invest their funds in banking, not because they want to borrow, but because they wish to lend money at the best possible rates, are arousing themselves to the necessity of purifying the institutions from the control of bor- rowing directors. At the annual elections which usually take place at this time of year, great efforts are making to produce that result. it is the only course that will preserve the remains of the Banks through the ordeal which they are to pass during the coming year. The distrust has been a good deal heightened by the many failures that have taken place in country Banks, from causes partly explained in our last article. Those causes have brought about the failure of the following Banks: 18412.] Monthly Financial and Commercial ~1rticle. 91 BARKS IN THE STATE OF NEW YORE FAILED. FREE RANKS. SAFETF FUND. Capital Circulation. Capital Circulation. Staten Island $168,300 $19,702 Comrnl Bk. N. Y 500000 121,370 James BRnk 106,000 32,350 Buffalo,.. .400,000 246,000 Bank of Glean 120,000 53,378 Gawego,.. .250,000 216,096 Washington Bank 100,000 19,235 Clinton Co Bank 200,000 193,666 Alleghany Co 100,000 95,722 Bank of Buffalo 200,000 195,000 St. Lawrence 136,675 109,535 Wayne Co. Bank 100,000 144,392 Total $704,975 $329,922 $1,650,000 $1,116,474 704,975 329,922 Grand Total $2,354,935 $1,446,396 This presents an annihilation of near two millions and a half of Bank capital, and a withdrawal of $1,500,000 from the aggregate paper circulation. Besides these, the New York Bnnking Company, with a capital of $352,745, and $104,800 of circulation, and also the United States Bank in New York, with a capital of $200,000, and $140,000 of circulation, have proceeded to wind up their affairs, and have withdrawn their notes from circulation. Consequently the entire reduction of capital employed in banking is $2,908,220, and the dimina- tion of circulation $1,691,196. This rapid reduction of banking capital is a marked feature in the financial history of the day, more especially when com- pared with the state of things existing three years since, when credits of all sorts were rapidly created. Those credits, more especially the Free Banks, were started expressly to stay the revolution in the value of property which began in 1836; but such has been the irresistible force of the cash system set on foot by the late federal administration, that the credit of sixteen sovereign States, added to that of the late National Bank, backed by innumerable smaller institutions has been crushed in its course. The Free Banks have generally their cap- itals secured to be paid on bonds and mortgages at very high values, therefore but very little real capital exists among them; and that little, from the nature of their organization, is invested in stocks, which have greatly depreciated itt value. These facts, added to the general untoward state of banking business, which affects all institntions alike, have created a greater degree of distrust toward that class of Banks than toward the others, consequently their bills are at a discount of five per cent., while the Safety Fund range from 3-4 to 2 per cent. discount. The great depreciation and present position of State stocks is perhaps the most important feature in the financial world. In our article for November we briefly sketched the causes that led to the existing state of things, adverting to the buoyaacy created in August last by the expectation that Congress would do something for the relief of the indebted States, and the subsequent depression consequent upon the disappointment experienced in that quarter. During the month of November, the results of the election in Mississippi, where party poli- tics seemed to a great extent merged in the question of repudiating or paying the bonds issued on the credit of the State, deciding against the legality of the debt, and therefore against paying them, were received, and under their influence the prices of the stocks of all the indebted States sank heavily. Subsequently ex- pectation was raised that the annual Message of the President of the United States would contain some recommendation by which they might be improved, and for a time prices remained firm. That message was received, and contained only a weak hope that the States would ultimately pay. Accordingly stocks again gave way, and later accounts from abroad, exhibiting accumulating diffi- culties there, have accelerated a fall. The following is a table of their market values at different periods since the passage of the land distribution act VOL. X., No. XLIII.13 98 .7lfonthly Financial and Commercial .Llrticle. [January, PRICES OF LEADING STATE STOCK IN THE NEW YoRIC MARKET. Redeem- Fatlfroo Rate. atle. Aug. 10. Nov. 15. Dee. 16. Aug. to Dec. United States 5~ 1844 100 a l00~ 9~ a 98 97~ a 98 2 per cent. 6 1844 a ...99 a1O0~.. ..99 a100 New York State, 6 1860 100 a l00~ 97~a100.....ll0 aO0~ 5]. 91~a92 85 a85~ 84 a823~ ..10 5 1845 93 a95 90 aOl 89Aa91 5 1846 93 a95 90 a91 85 a87 5 1847 93a95 90 a91 85a87 S 1850 91 a92 9Oalll 85a87 5 1855 86 a87 8l~ aSh 80 a8i~ 5 1858 86 a86 8lla 811 SOla 81 4]. 1859 75 a77 77 aSt) 70 a75 City 5 fire 84~ a 85~ 80 a82 80 a83 .2 5 water 844a85l 80 a80~ 77 a 78~ bonds,6 lyear alOO 98 alOO 97 a9Th Brooklyn city 6 20 100 a 105 97 a 100 95 a 100 Pennsylvania 5 79 a 80 70 a 71 aSS .22 Ohio 6 1850 94 a95 90 a93 a92 6 1856 94 a95 90 a91 88la85 10 6 1858 94 a95 90 a91 S4la 85 10 6 1860 94 a95 90 a91 81 a83l . .12 S 1850 84iaS5 80 a83......77 aSO Kentucky 6 84 a85 SOlaSlI a77 6 bonds4s..... a a a _ Alabama, dollar 5 1865 a 64 a 66 50 a 55 35 Arkansas 6 25 years.. .59 a 62 50 a 60 30 a 45 12 Indiana, sterling 5 56 a 57 40 a 43 26 a 27.. . .50 dollar S 55 a 55~ 43 a 43~ 27 a 28 28 Illinois, steeling 6 1860 a a a dollar, bk loan, .6 1860 56 a 56~ 43 a 45 29 a 30.... .27 sterling 6 1870 a a a dollar 6 1870 55 a55~ 42 a43 27}a28 27 The immediate cause of this fearful fall has no doubt been the increased im- portance which the doctrine of repudiation has assumed, in connexion with the actual dishonor and embarrassment of the several States, as well as the increased discredit abroad, which has already induced the return of a large quantity of stocks for sale, soon probably to be followed by a still larger amount. The States of Mississippi, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Indiana, have actually failed, and the prospect of renewing their payments at an early day would seem to be very small. Mississippi has failed in its interest; Michigan and Pennsylvania have dishonored a portion of their debts, principal and interest. A debt of the last mentiened State for $900,060, which fell due in June last, remains to this hour unpaid. In February next, nearly $1,000,000 of intcrest falls due, to meet which, the State has in its treasury $1,000,000 of paper currency issues of the banks, re- deemable in State stocks. This paper is at thirty-five per cent. discount. Con- sequently there is actually but $650,000 to meet $1,000,000 of interest, $2,000,000 of floating debt, and $900,000 of a dishonored principal, making $3,900,000; and the citizens are already burdened with town and county taxes, which, although very onerous, yield not a dollar toward the State debts. Indiana failed last July, and Illinois will probably fail in January. The finances of these two States have, of all the States in the Union, been worst managed. They have depended upon borrowing altogether, and that at the most ruinons rates; consequently their debts have fearfully accumulated. The following are their present debts as compared with the close of 1840 1840 1841 Increase. Indiana 13,538,000 $15,160,000. $1,622,000 Illinois 16,185,560 19,125,560 2,960,401 This immense increase has been effected simply by pledging bonds at a high rate, to raise money to meet present necessities: the people have not received one dollar of the money. For instance, to raise $333,000 in July, General White- sides, for Illinois, pledged $840,000 with a broker in Wall-street. That broker, to raise the money, hypothecated the bonds in small sums with other brokers. Those brokers, becomin~ short of money, pledged the bonds in their turn with other brokers. The bonds thus passed from hand to hand, absorbing money, until a panic ran the prices down, and the lenders, not being covered, called in their loans, 1S4~2.] Monthly Financial and Commercial drticle. 99 and many bonds were sold actually. The State thus pays at the rate of twenty per cent. per annum for money, besides obligating itself to pay three dollars for one received when the loan falls due. Mr. Noble performed the same operation for the State of Indiana. To raise money for the civil list he pled,ed 250,000 of bonds, at thirty-five cents on the dollar, with a hroker in Wall-street. This is borrowing money at the same rate as the State of Illinois. It is easy to perceive that no people, even the most prosperous and wealthy, can long sustain such operations; more particularly those of new States, where the population is an agricultural one, thinly scattered over a great extent of territory, living in log huts, and dependant for their means upon distant markets, which are commanded by productive States more contiguously situated. A just and matter-of-fact con- sideration of these circumstances, apart from political views, lends the mind to the conviction of the inability of the State to pay at present, no matter how fa- vorable may be the will. The distress that must inevitably grow out of these de- falcations, both at home and abroad, will be very great; and if a calamitous war is not the ultimate result, it will be because of the forbearance of the foreign creditors. All these evils, present and prospective, have grown directly out of the evil influence of the paper system, as governed by the late National Bank. That institution has been the cause of those extravagances, individual, corporate, and state, that have led to the contraction of debts, measured only by the ability to borrow, without reference to the means of payment. The States of the Union, almost without exception, have authorized the creation of loans without providing for the payment of the interest by taxation. The internal improvement system of the State of New York has been by far more successful than that of any other State, and yet, by the policy of the late party in power, which was to create debts depending solely upon the revenue of the works to meet the interest, the credit of the State was nearly wrecked, and New York State five per cents. having been sold at 78, have recently risen to 83, under the belief that the new government will put a check upon the supply. By this course the credit of the State will gradually be restored, and the supply upon the market be absorbed by the invest- ments of capitalists at home. For nine or ten of the other States of the Union there seems to be no other course at present likely to be pursued but that which they have authorized in the Banks, viz., suspension. Unlike the Banks, however, they cannot continue in credit and still refuse to pay their debts; but utter dis- grace must attend their defalcations. These are the melancholy fruits of the credit system. It has produced these results in this country first, because here it first reached its maximum. The in- dications abroad, by the advices recently received, are, that a general explo- sion there must soon take place. The enormous amount of credits that is balanced upon the insignificant and diminishing amount of specie held by the Bank of England is tottering to its base. In the same manner that State and cor- porate credit was stimulated here by the late National Bank, until every market became glutted with their securities, has the manufacturing business of England been stimulated through Bank influence, until every quarter of the globe is stuffed with their fabrics. The East India markets, that have of late years been the most important, are said to have now stocks sufficient for two years consumption on hand. The imports into New South Wales of the manufactures of Great Britain., had amounted to 270 for each man, woman, and child in the settlements. Bankruptcy and distress, with stagnant markets, are the result. rhe manufactures of the coarser description of cottons in the United States have driven those of British manufacture from the markets of Eastern Africa, the Persian Gulf, the Eastern Archipelago, and China, and seriously compete with them in the South American and Mediterranean markets. The consequence in 100 Monthly Financial and Commercial .Article. [January, England is, a continued decline in the exchanges, and diminution in the bullion held by the Bank, while the trade of France, based upon a specie currency, is yearly progressing. Once already, within two years, has the paper system of Eng- land beea saved by the support of the Bank of France, and the time is rapidly approaching when fresh assistance will be necessary. The probabilities are, however, that France will not involve itself in difficulty by attempting to sustain the tottering fabric of the British credit system. It is matter of great congratula- tion to the people of these United States, that while this revolution is going for- ward throughout the commercial world in favor of the cash system, we have been saved from the infliction of a new Government paper institution. The fiscal agent shadowed forth in the annual message of the chief magistrate, exhibits a vacillation between the old and the new system: while it rejects the unlimited powers claimed for a regular Bank, it still clings to the exploded doc- trine that the exchanges of the country want regulating, and weakly supposes that that regulation can be effected by authorizing the government agents to go into the market and invest its funds in mercantile bills. To do this it must raise the price of bills upon the mercantile buyer, and must charge a still higher rate upon the sale of those bills to other parties. The inevitable effect of such a monstrous innovation upon the course of trade, would be fresh derangement and new disasters. It has been alleged that the plan proposed is similar to that hint- ed at by General Jackson in his message of 1830. There is, however, a wide difference between the two plans. That of the present chief magistrate would make the federal government a bill-broker with a borrbwed capital; that of Jack- son expressly excluded the purchase of property, whether bills or otherwise, but permitted the sale of bills in the transmission of the government funds in co-operation with the mercantile exchanges. This is all that the government or a Bank can do in the regulation of exchanges. Two-thirds of the revenue are eollected in New York. If the government wishes to expend a part of that re- venue in New Orleans, it may consistently authorize the treasury branch there to sell bills drawn on its New York funds for the amount that it wishes to transmit, and no more. If this took place at a moment when exchange was high, byin- creasing the upply it would lower the price. The new plan, however, seeks to authorize the government to borrow money in order to invest it in mercantile bills, in opposition to the regular dealers in that description of paper, and in con- nexion therewith to issue two descriptions of paper currency, one in the form of treasury notes and the other in that of certificates of deposite. All this provides nothing for the equalization of the currency. At New Orleans bills can be pur- chased on New York freely at par for one per cent. for specie; but for the paper currency of that section, they command six to seven per cent. If the govern- ment undertakes to sell bills, it must do it on the same terms; the currency in which they are paid for remaining the same. The paper issues of the govern- ment would be immediately absorbed as a medium of exchange, and would not enter into the currency. The probability is that the measure will not be adopt- ed by Congress, at least that part of it which leans toward the revival of a gov- eminent paper currency. NOTEOur usual monthly notices of New Books are excluded by the pressure of other matter. They will be given in our next. The engraving in the present Number is from a portrait painted a few weeks after the Battle of New Orleans, for the late Commodore PATTERSON, now in the posses- sion of I. Hunv, Esq. of New York. Though a very faithfiit and characteristic por- trait of the original, no engraving had ever before been taken from it. EaaATuIa.On the 2Sth pnge of the presvnt Nnmhcr, the following three lines, between the 8th and the 9th, have been accidentally omitted Shall lead rejoicing to the Runny strand Of the bright Athenian land l But never, never more, for wretched me 101 18~2.] LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. Are interesting fact, which may be known to very few, if any of our readers, an(l which is doubtless unsurpassed in the annals of literature, is the great historical work which has recently been completed by the late Mr. Wiffen,the admirable translator of Tasso, and other popular works, which comprises the Family Re- cords of every descendant of the ancient and distinguished House of Russell, com- piled from authentic sources chiefly in the possession of the family. This very beau- tiful production, which includes the Por- traits of every member of that Peerage, direct and collateral, painted by one of the most prominent artists of the age (Har- ding), is comprised in one folio volume, printed in a style of sumptuous magnifi- cence; only one single copy of which was printed off. This unique bequest by the late Dukc of Bedford, under whose per- sonal superintendence it was commenced and completed, was designed by him as an heir-loom in the family, and to be depos- ited in the Library at Woburn Abbey, from whence it was on no account to be remov- ed. It may not be amiss to add, that this interesting object is to be exhibited to vis- iters every Monday, on suitable appflca- tion; and as this noble mansion, frequently called, from its singular magnificence, Royalty in Miniature, is within fifty miles of the English capital, no tourist from this country should omit paying a visit to so interesting an object. The cost expended in the production of this single volume is said to have been 3000 guineas! HIsTORIcAL Msssrore.J. Romeyn Brod- head, Esq., who was appointed by the New York Historical Society, agent to consult European archives, in reference to the his- tory of this State, writes home that he has been very successful in his mission. At the Hague alone he has procured copies of 3000 pages of manuscript, illustrative of colonial history from 1614 down to 1673. He has met most generous courtesy from the government, and was preparing to ex- amine the archives of the Dutch West India Company, at Amsterdam. The most costly undertaking ever at- tempted by a single individual, of a litera- ry character, which unquestionably the world has yet seen, is the magnificent work on the aborigines of Mexico, by the late Lord Kingsborough. This stupendous work is said to have been produced at the enormous cost to the author of 30,0001., or $150,000. It is comprised in seven im- mense folio volumes, embellished by ma- ny hundred superb illustrations, colored so exquisitely as to represent the originals with the most faithful exactness. These productions are of such extraordinary di- mensions as to be almost importable. This unprecedented instance of munificence in the patronage of literature, is rendered the more astonishing from the lamentable fact of its having proved the ultimate ruin of its projector. Not only did this enthu- siastic nobleman undertake to defray the entire expense attending the publication, in every item of which, as it ought have been expected, he had to meet the niost exorbitant charges, but he actually deter- mined on having but a very limited num- her of copies printed, we believe only fifty, after which the lithographic stones from which the plates were taken were de- stroyed. These copies were appropriated for gratuitous presentation to ihe several Royal and Public Libraries of Europe, and it is gratifvino to find that they safely reached thiir destination. It is greatly to be regretted, however, that no copy has ever yet reached any public institution of this country, to which it would undoubt- edly become of incalculable value. It is painful to add, that this noble patron of literature an dthe arts actually died in debt, about four years since, a sad in- stance of self-immolation to his munifi- cence, in a prison in Dublin. It is rather remarkable that in a recent interesting work on American Antiquities, by Mr. Bradford, no allusion even is made to this great authority. We have hoard it credi- bly asserted that a copy of Lord Kingabo- roughs superb work is now in the hands of Mr. Hooper, the London bookseller, which is valued at eighty guineas. Will Congress take the opportunity of possess- ing themselves of the costly treasure? AMERiCAN LITERARY ANNOUNCE- MENTS. The new work by Mr. James, Life and Times of Richard Cusiur-de-Lion, re- cently announced as in press by J. & H. G. LANGLEY, is now ready. The work forms two handsome duodecimo volumes. The same firm have just finished a new and beautifully printed edition of The Dublin Dissector, & c. This is one of those works whose intrinsic worth is such as cannot fail of winning its way to uni- versal favor. They have also now ready a beautiful juvenile, entitled Robin Hood and his Merry ~ which, besides being very finely printed, is adorned by a series of lithographic drawings, admirably col- ored, and handsomely bound and gilt. The reception which the recent work of Mr. DIsraehi, The Amenities of Lit- erature, has met with on both sides of the Atlantic, has been all that his most sanguine admirers could desire. The American reprint has already passed inte a second edition, and this we understand is nearly exhausted.

101 18~2.] LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. Are interesting fact, which may be known to very few, if any of our readers, an(l which is doubtless unsurpassed in the annals of literature, is the great historical work which has recently been completed by the late Mr. Wiffen,the admirable translator of Tasso, and other popular works, which comprises the Family Re- cords of every descendant of the ancient and distinguished House of Russell, com- piled from authentic sources chiefly in the possession of the family. This very beau- tiful production, which includes the Por- traits of every member of that Peerage, direct and collateral, painted by one of the most prominent artists of the age (Har- ding), is comprised in one folio volume, printed in a style of sumptuous magnifi- cence; only one single copy of which was printed off. This unique bequest by the late Dukc of Bedford, under whose per- sonal superintendence it was commenced and completed, was designed by him as an heir-loom in the family, and to be depos- ited in the Library at Woburn Abbey, from whence it was on no account to be remov- ed. It may not be amiss to add, that this interesting object is to be exhibited to vis- iters every Monday, on suitable appflca- tion; and as this noble mansion, frequently called, from its singular magnificence, Royalty in Miniature, is within fifty miles of the English capital, no tourist from this country should omit paying a visit to so interesting an object. The cost expended in the production of this single volume is said to have been 3000 guineas! HIsTORIcAL Msssrore.J. Romeyn Brod- head, Esq., who was appointed by the New York Historical Society, agent to consult European archives, in reference to the his- tory of this State, writes home that he has been very successful in his mission. At the Hague alone he has procured copies of 3000 pages of manuscript, illustrative of colonial history from 1614 down to 1673. He has met most generous courtesy from the government, and was preparing to ex- amine the archives of the Dutch West India Company, at Amsterdam. The most costly undertaking ever at- tempted by a single individual, of a litera- ry character, which unquestionably the world has yet seen, is the magnificent work on the aborigines of Mexico, by the late Lord Kingsborough. This stupendous work is said to have been produced at the enormous cost to the author of 30,0001., or $150,000. It is comprised in seven im- mense folio volumes, embellished by ma- ny hundred superb illustrations, colored so exquisitely as to represent the originals with the most faithful exactness. These productions are of such extraordinary di- mensions as to be almost importable. This unprecedented instance of munificence in the patronage of literature, is rendered the more astonishing from the lamentable fact of its having proved the ultimate ruin of its projector. Not only did this enthu- siastic nobleman undertake to defray the entire expense attending the publication, in every item of which, as it ought have been expected, he had to meet the niost exorbitant charges, but he actually deter- mined on having but a very limited num- her of copies printed, we believe only fifty, after which the lithographic stones from which the plates were taken were de- stroyed. These copies were appropriated for gratuitous presentation to ihe several Royal and Public Libraries of Europe, and it is gratifvino to find that they safely reached thiir destination. It is greatly to be regretted, however, that no copy has ever yet reached any public institution of this country, to which it would undoubt- edly become of incalculable value. It is painful to add, that this noble patron of literature an dthe arts actually died in debt, about four years since, a sad in- stance of self-immolation to his munifi- cence, in a prison in Dublin. It is rather remarkable that in a recent interesting work on American Antiquities, by Mr. Bradford, no allusion even is made to this great authority. We have hoard it credi- bly asserted that a copy of Lord Kingabo- roughs superb work is now in the hands of Mr. Hooper, the London bookseller, which is valued at eighty guineas. Will Congress take the opportunity of possess- ing themselves of the costly treasure? AMERiCAN LITERARY ANNOUNCE- MENTS. The new work by Mr. James, Life and Times of Richard Cusiur-de-Lion, re- cently announced as in press by J. & H. G. LANGLEY, is now ready. The work forms two handsome duodecimo volumes. The same firm have just finished a new and beautifully printed edition of The Dublin Dissector, & c. This is one of those works whose intrinsic worth is such as cannot fail of winning its way to uni- versal favor. They have also now ready a beautiful juvenile, entitled Robin Hood and his Merry ~ which, besides being very finely printed, is adorned by a series of lithographic drawings, admirably col- ored, and handsomely bound and gilt. The reception which the recent work of Mr. DIsraehi, The Amenities of Lit- erature, has met with on both sides of the Atlantic, has been all that his most sanguine admirers could desire. The American reprint has already passed inte a second edition, and this we understand is nearly exhausted.

101 18~2.] LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. Are interesting fact, which may be known to very few, if any of our readers, an(l which is doubtless unsurpassed in the annals of literature, is the great historical work which has recently been completed by the late Mr. Wiffen,the admirable translator of Tasso, and other popular works, which comprises the Family Re- cords of every descendant of the ancient and distinguished House of Russell, com- piled from authentic sources chiefly in the possession of the family. This very beau- tiful production, which includes the Por- traits of every member of that Peerage, direct and collateral, painted by one of the most prominent artists of the age (Har- ding), is comprised in one folio volume, printed in a style of sumptuous magnifi- cence; only one single copy of which was printed off. This unique bequest by the late Dukc of Bedford, under whose per- sonal superintendence it was commenced and completed, was designed by him as an heir-loom in the family, and to be depos- ited in the Library at Woburn Abbey, from whence it was on no account to be remov- ed. It may not be amiss to add, that this interesting object is to be exhibited to vis- iters every Monday, on suitable appflca- tion; and as this noble mansion, frequently called, from its singular magnificence, Royalty in Miniature, is within fifty miles of the English capital, no tourist from this country should omit paying a visit to so interesting an object. The cost expended in the production of this single volume is said to have been 3000 guineas! HIsTORIcAL Msssrore.J. Romeyn Brod- head, Esq., who was appointed by the New York Historical Society, agent to consult European archives, in reference to the his- tory of this State, writes home that he has been very successful in his mission. At the Hague alone he has procured copies of 3000 pages of manuscript, illustrative of colonial history from 1614 down to 1673. He has met most generous courtesy from the government, and was preparing to ex- amine the archives of the Dutch West India Company, at Amsterdam. The most costly undertaking ever at- tempted by a single individual, of a litera- ry character, which unquestionably the world has yet seen, is the magnificent work on the aborigines of Mexico, by the late Lord Kingsborough. This stupendous work is said to have been produced at the enormous cost to the author of 30,0001., or $150,000. It is comprised in seven im- mense folio volumes, embellished by ma- ny hundred superb illustrations, colored so exquisitely as to represent the originals with the most faithful exactness. These productions are of such extraordinary di- mensions as to be almost importable. This unprecedented instance of munificence in the patronage of literature, is rendered the more astonishing from the lamentable fact of its having proved the ultimate ruin of its projector. Not only did this enthu- siastic nobleman undertake to defray the entire expense attending the publication, in every item of which, as it ought have been expected, he had to meet the niost exorbitant charges, but he actually deter- mined on having but a very limited num- her of copies printed, we believe only fifty, after which the lithographic stones from which the plates were taken were de- stroyed. These copies were appropriated for gratuitous presentation to ihe several Royal and Public Libraries of Europe, and it is gratifvino to find that they safely reached thiir destination. It is greatly to be regretted, however, that no copy has ever yet reached any public institution of this country, to which it would undoubt- edly become of incalculable value. It is painful to add, that this noble patron of literature an dthe arts actually died in debt, about four years since, a sad in- stance of self-immolation to his munifi- cence, in a prison in Dublin. It is rather remarkable that in a recent interesting work on American Antiquities, by Mr. Bradford, no allusion even is made to this great authority. We have hoard it credi- bly asserted that a copy of Lord Kingabo- roughs superb work is now in the hands of Mr. Hooper, the London bookseller, which is valued at eighty guineas. Will Congress take the opportunity of possess- ing themselves of the costly treasure? AMERiCAN LITERARY ANNOUNCE- MENTS. The new work by Mr. James, Life and Times of Richard Cusiur-de-Lion, re- cently announced as in press by J. & H. G. LANGLEY, is now ready. The work forms two handsome duodecimo volumes. The same firm have just finished a new and beautifully printed edition of The Dublin Dissector, & c. This is one of those works whose intrinsic worth is such as cannot fail of winning its way to uni- versal favor. They have also now ready a beautiful juvenile, entitled Robin Hood and his Merry ~ which, besides being very finely printed, is adorned by a series of lithographic drawings, admirably col- ored, and handsomely bound and gilt. The reception which the recent work of Mr. DIsraehi, The Amenities of Lit- erature, has met with on both sides of the Atlantic, has been all that his most sanguine admirers could desire. The American reprint has already passed inte a second edition, and this we understand is nearly exhausted. 102 Literary Intelligence. [January, Shortly will be published, a new Gram- S. COLMAN will immediately issue a mar of the German Language, by C. J. new and very fine edition of Percivals Ilempel, Esq. It is intended to super- Elegant Extracts in Prose, in 3 vols. sede the necessity of all other elementary Svo. This valuahie standard work, which works for the acquisition of that laugu. ~e, has been for many years out of print, will, being provided with copious extracts from from its established reputation, be wel- the most appropriate German classics fur comed by a large and discriminating class reading exercises, and also with a lexicon of the reading community. of all the words used in the work. This The same publisher has in press and Grammar is constructed upon the strictest nearly ready a work which is said to be principles of induction, and appears to characterized by its great power and hu- contain all the p rioted instructions neces- mor, entitled The Effiughams, or Home sary for a complete knowledge of the Ian- as I found it ; 2 vols. l2mo. The author guage. Lhe high commendation which it preserves the strictest incognito, and con- has alread received from judicious critics jecture will doubtless be busy in attempts induces us to suppose that it is destined to disclose the secret. to supersede every work of the kind at HERMAN HOOKER, Philadelphia, has p resent in the English or American mar- published a work in the usual form of mu- Itet sic volumes, entitled The Amateurs J. S. REDFIELD has just issued the Musical Library, a Collection of Piano third volume, completing the series of Forte Music. Pictorial Illustrations of the Bible. Al- J. WHETHAM & SON, Philadelphia, so A Memoir and Beauties of Wesley. have in press, and shortly will publish, WILEY & PUTNAM have nearly ready Select Works of the British Poets, from the following Southey to the present time, embracing The Queens Prisoner, nearly all the Modern Poets, forming the Lectures on Agricultural Chemistry and third volume, which will complete the Geology, by J. T. Johnston. series. Flora of North America, by Drs. Tor- JAMES MUNROE & CO., Boston, have rey and Gray, Part 2d, vol. 2. in preparation the following The Zincali, or the Gipsies of Spain, by Twice Told Tales, in 2 vols. l6mo, by George Barrow, I vol. Nathaniel Hawtborne new edition. Chapters on Churchyards, & c., by Mrs. Offering of Synipathy, by Rev. F. Park- Southey (late Caroline Bowles), 2 vols. man, D. D. ; 3d edition. I2rno. Herodotus, in 2 vols. l2mo, from the Hints to Mothers on Health, by Dr. text of Schrveighaeuser, with English Bull I vol. l2mo. notes, by C. S. Wheeler, A. M., Instructer The Life of Shakspeare, by the En- in Greek in Harvard University. glish Opium-eater ; I vol. l2mo. Study of the Greek Classic Poets, by S. A New Tale of a Tub, with illustra- T. Coleridge, l2mo. tions, 1 vol. (now ready). Egmnont, translated from the German D. APPLETON & CO. have just com- of Goethe; I vol. l6mo. pleted a new Historical Juvenile, entitled Pictorial Natural History, illustrated by Joan of Arc, by the author of Eve- 400 engravings, by S. G. Goodrich, author nings with the Chroniclers, embellished of Peter Parleys Tales; I vol. I2mo. with 26 plates. Peirces Algebra, 2d edition, revised. They have also in press a new book of Curves Functions and Motions, con- Travels, in two vols. 8vo, with numer- taming the Integral Calculus and Analyti- 005 illustrations, entitled A Winter in cal Mechanics, l2mu, by Professor Peirce Egypt, and Rambles through Arabia Pe- of Harvard University. tr~a and the Holy Land, during the years Grandfathers Library, edited by S. G. 1839 and 1840 ; by James E. Cooley. Goodrich, author of Peter Parleys Tales. A new volume of their Devotional Se- Three Months on the Sea, or a Voyage ries, entitled Golden Grove, & c., by to India, illustrated by engravings. Jeremy Taylor, 1 vol. l6mo, is also in The Common School Grammpr, by John press; and a volume of religious Poetry, Goldsbury, 12,no. portions of which have already appeared GOULD, CENDALL,& LINCOLN, Bos- in the Churchman, entitled Christmas ton, have just published a new edition of Bell, is now, we believe, in the hands Dr. Wayland~s Political Economy, I vol. of the binder. They have in press, My Progress in The same firm have just issued an in- Error, and Recovery to Truth, or a Tour teresting little volume, entitled Gems through Universalism, Unitarianism, and from Travellers, cpmprising local illus- Skepticisni, I vol. I6mo. trations of Scripture, & c., with numerous Hymns for the Vestry and Fireside. cuts, and handsomely bound and gilt. The Claims of Jesus, by the Rev. Rob- DAYTON & SAXTON have now ert Turubull; Ibmo. ready a new volume, by the author of Onesimus: or, the Apostolic Directions ~ entitled Virginia, or the to Christian Masters in reference to their Lost and Found. Also now ready, a ne~v Slaves, & c., considered; by Evangelicus. work by the celebrated Peter Parley (S. ISmo. G. Goodrich), entitled Sketches from a S. G. SIMPKINS has in press a new Students Window ; and The North- and original little book of Poems for Chil- em Harp, uniform with The Southern dren, with cuts, entitled Fresh Flowers Harp ; Mrs. Marcetts Book for Young for my Children. by a Mother. Chifdren, with cuts, & c. TICKNOR, of Boston, has just pub- (b Literary Intelligence. lished a beautiful edition of the Poems of Motherwell. MCRTON & GRISWOLD will soon publish The Surgeons Vade Mecum, a Manual of the Principles and Practice of Surgery, illustrated with numerous wood engravings. By Robert Drouitt. From the second London edition. With notes and additional illustrations by Joshua R. Flint, late Professor of Surgery in the Louisville Medical Institute. They will also publish The Principles of Descriptive and Physiological Botany. By Rev. J. S. Henslow adapted to ihe use of schools. CAREY & HART, Philadelphia, are preparing for publication, among others, the following important works The works of Rev. Sydney Smith, com- plete in 2 vols. Svo. Mr. Griswolds Poets and Poetry of America, with portraits and other illustra. tions, in 1 roya 18 vo vol. Travels in Turkey, Greece, and the Ho- ly Land, by E. J. Morris; 2 vols. l2mo, with plates. Recollections of the American Stage, embracing notices of authors, actors, and auditors, during a period of forty years, by William B. Wood; 2 vols. l2mo. A Life of Edward the Black Prince, by G. P.R. James; 1 vol. Svo. History of the Conquest of England by the Normans, translated from the French of A. Thierry. Chaucers Canterbury Tales, with an in- troductory essay, & c., by T. Tyrwhitt, Esq.; 4 vols. l2mo. Miscellanies, by Leigh Hunt; 1 vol. l2mo. Gems from the Poets, edited by S. C. Ball; 1 vol. l2mu, finely printed. Miscellanies of Reginald Heber, late Lord Bishop of Calcutta. Bistory of Fiction, by John Dunlop, au- thor of History of Roman Literature. Miscellanies, by Lord Jeffrey, collected by himself. Critical and Miscellaneous Writings of T. Noon Talfourd; 1 vol. l2mo. LEA & BLANCHARD, Philadelphia, have just published The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Oxford, with a splendid portrait of the au- thor, coot loin g nearly 200 Letters, now first published from the originals; hand- somely bound in various bindings. They will publish The Select Works of Jeremy Bentham, revised and edited by Dr. Bowring. The Man of Fortune, by Mrs. Gore. Jesses Memoirs of the Court of Eng- land, from the Revolution to the death of Geor e II., in 2 vols. A Winter in the Azores,by Joseph Buller. A Selection from Debates in the House of Commons, from 1768 to 1774, reported by Sir H. Cavendish, and edited by J. Wright, embracing that portion referring to this country. The Anatomists Vade Mecum, by Wil- son with wood cuts. Wheatons International Law, a new and revised edition. KAY & BROTHER, Philadelphia, have in press a new edition of ~ complete Poetical and Prose Works in 5 vols. l2mo, which will be beautifully got uP,~hey will publish in a few days a new and enlarged edition of Meigs Midwifery, in 1 vol. Svo, illustrated with numerous engravings. A Practical Treatise on the Diseases peculiar to Women, illustrated by cases from 1-Jospital and Private Practice. In three parts. By Samuel Ashwell, M. D., with notes by an American Practitioner, In press by JOHN J.HASWELL, Philad. D. H. WILLIAMS, Boston, has in press a new edition of Virail containing the Latin text of the neiA, Georgics, & c., with copious English notes, adapted to Aimdrews and ~ Latin Grammar, and prepared for the use of colleges and classical schools, by Francis Bowen, A - M - I vol. Svo, GO0 pp. This work will include some highly important improvements, by incorporating the notes of some modern German critics, as well as the commenta- ries of older grammarians, & c. TAPPAN & DENNET, Boston, will publish shortly a work in 2 vols. l2mo, entitled Foreign Travels and Life at Sea, including Incidents of a Cruise on board a Man-of-Wir, & c. The Great Awakening, or an ac- count of the extensive religious revivals in the times of Edwards and Whitefield. I vol. Svo. Mr. OWEN, of Cambridge, Mass., has in press, Lectures on Modern History, from the third London edition, with a Pre- face, list of Books on American History, & c., by Jared Sparks, LL. D.; 2 vols. Svo. Organic Chemistry, in its application to Agriculture and Physiology, by Justus Leibig. M.D., & c., & c. Second American edition, with an Introduction, Notes, and Appendix, by John W. Webster, M. D., Professor of Chemistry its Harvard Uni- versity ; l2mo. Ballads and other Poems, by Henry W. Longfellow; lGmo. A Narrative of Voyages and Commer- cial Enterprises, by R. J. Cleveland, finns the original manuscripts, with a Preface by his son, H. R. Cleveland; l2mo. A Treatise on Mineralogy, by J. W. Webster, M. D.; Sen. E. HOPKINS, Hartford, Cono., has just issued a new edition of the Poems of Joha G. C. Brainard, a new and authentic col- lection, with a Memoir of his Life, & c -~ 1 vol. I2mo, with a Portrait. ENGLISH LITERARY ANNOUNCE- MENTS. A new work of considerable interest is shortly to be issued from the English pressThe Posthumous Papers of Mad- ame D~Arblay, better known as a writer of the popular fictions Evelina, Ce- cilia,~1 under her maiden name, Miss Bur- ney. These MSS., which comprise her letters, diary, & c., are said to be charac- terized by all the brilliancy and beauty of style, correct feeling, and amiability of 1842.] 103

Literary Intelligence. lished a beautiful edition of the Poems of Motherwell. MCRTON & GRISWOLD will soon publish The Surgeons Vade Mecum, a Manual of the Principles and Practice of Surgery, illustrated with numerous wood engravings. By Robert Drouitt. From the second London edition. With notes and additional illustrations by Joshua R. Flint, late Professor of Surgery in the Louisville Medical Institute. They will also publish The Principles of Descriptive and Physiological Botany. By Rev. J. S. Henslow adapted to ihe use of schools. CAREY & HART, Philadelphia, are preparing for publication, among others, the following important works The works of Rev. Sydney Smith, com- plete in 2 vols. Svo. Mr. Griswolds Poets and Poetry of America, with portraits and other illustra. tions, in 1 roya 18 vo vol. Travels in Turkey, Greece, and the Ho- ly Land, by E. J. Morris; 2 vols. l2mo, with plates. Recollections of the American Stage, embracing notices of authors, actors, and auditors, during a period of forty years, by William B. Wood; 2 vols. l2mo. A Life of Edward the Black Prince, by G. P.R. James; 1 vol. Svo. History of the Conquest of England by the Normans, translated from the French of A. Thierry. Chaucers Canterbury Tales, with an in- troductory essay, & c., by T. Tyrwhitt, Esq.; 4 vols. l2mo. Miscellanies, by Leigh Hunt; 1 vol. l2mo. Gems from the Poets, edited by S. C. Ball; 1 vol. l2mu, finely printed. Miscellanies of Reginald Heber, late Lord Bishop of Calcutta. Bistory of Fiction, by John Dunlop, au- thor of History of Roman Literature. Miscellanies, by Lord Jeffrey, collected by himself. Critical and Miscellaneous Writings of T. Noon Talfourd; 1 vol. l2mo. LEA & BLANCHARD, Philadelphia, have just published The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Oxford, with a splendid portrait of the au- thor, coot loin g nearly 200 Letters, now first published from the originals; hand- somely bound in various bindings. They will publish The Select Works of Jeremy Bentham, revised and edited by Dr. Bowring. The Man of Fortune, by Mrs. Gore. Jesses Memoirs of the Court of Eng- land, from the Revolution to the death of Geor e II., in 2 vols. A Winter in the Azores,by Joseph Buller. A Selection from Debates in the House of Commons, from 1768 to 1774, reported by Sir H. Cavendish, and edited by J. Wright, embracing that portion referring to this country. The Anatomists Vade Mecum, by Wil- son with wood cuts. Wheatons International Law, a new and revised edition. KAY & BROTHER, Philadelphia, have in press a new edition of ~ complete Poetical and Prose Works in 5 vols. l2mo, which will be beautifully got uP,~hey will publish in a few days a new and enlarged edition of Meigs Midwifery, in 1 vol. Svo, illustrated with numerous engravings. A Practical Treatise on the Diseases peculiar to Women, illustrated by cases from 1-Jospital and Private Practice. In three parts. By Samuel Ashwell, M. D., with notes by an American Practitioner, In press by JOHN J.HASWELL, Philad. D. H. WILLIAMS, Boston, has in press a new edition of Virail containing the Latin text of the neiA, Georgics, & c., with copious English notes, adapted to Aimdrews and ~ Latin Grammar, and prepared for the use of colleges and classical schools, by Francis Bowen, A - M - I vol. Svo, GO0 pp. This work will include some highly important improvements, by incorporating the notes of some modern German critics, as well as the commenta- ries of older grammarians, & c. TAPPAN & DENNET, Boston, will publish shortly a work in 2 vols. l2mo, entitled Foreign Travels and Life at Sea, including Incidents of a Cruise on board a Man-of-Wir, & c. The Great Awakening, or an ac- count of the extensive religious revivals in the times of Edwards and Whitefield. I vol. Svo. Mr. OWEN, of Cambridge, Mass., has in press, Lectures on Modern History, from the third London edition, with a Pre- face, list of Books on American History, & c., by Jared Sparks, LL. D.; 2 vols. Svo. Organic Chemistry, in its application to Agriculture and Physiology, by Justus Leibig. M.D., & c., & c. Second American edition, with an Introduction, Notes, and Appendix, by John W. Webster, M. D., Professor of Chemistry its Harvard Uni- versity ; l2mo. Ballads and other Poems, by Henry W. Longfellow; lGmo. A Narrative of Voyages and Commer- cial Enterprises, by R. J. Cleveland, finns the original manuscripts, with a Preface by his son, H. R. Cleveland; l2mo. A Treatise on Mineralogy, by J. W. Webster, M. D.; Sen. E. HOPKINS, Hartford, Cono., has just issued a new edition of the Poems of Joha G. C. Brainard, a new and authentic col- lection, with a Memoir of his Life, & c -~ 1 vol. I2mo, with a Portrait. ENGLISH LITERARY ANNOUNCE- MENTS. A new work of considerable interest is shortly to be issued from the English pressThe Posthumous Papers of Mad- ame D~Arblay, better known as a writer of the popular fictions Evelina, Ce- cilia,~1 under her maiden name, Miss Bur- ney. These MSS., which comprise her letters, diary, & c., are said to be charac- terized by all the brilliancy and beauty of style, correct feeling, and amiability of 1842.] 103 1~Y4~ heart for which her writings have ever been so deservedly popular. The Shaksperian Mjscellanies, being a series of essays and annotations on the Shakspeare Plays, & c., edited by Piercy B. St. John, is to be commenced on the 1st of February next, and continued quarterly. A posthumous work from the pen of the late Theodore Hook, said to be the best he has ever produced, is now ready, enti- tled Fathers and Sons. it is embel- lished with engravings by Phiz. The author of Cousin Geoffrey,~~ & c., is about to issue a new novel under the name of The Matchmaker. Lieut. Col. Maxwells work, A Run through the United States, & c., is now published ; 2 vols. Svo, with plates. The Parish Clerk, a novel by the au- thor of Peter Priggins, & c., and edited the late Theodore Hook, Esq., is also published. The popular and prolific authoress of Mothers and Daughters, & c., has, we observe, two new novels on the tepis; one entitled The Man of Fortune and the other The Ambassadors Wife, & c. A new eriodical work has just been commence , under the title of Classes of the Capital, being from London life~ edited by Win. Lee. The sketches are finely tinted, & c. Dr. A. Walker, whose numerous publi- cations on physiological science have won for him such extensive popularity, has just issued a new work entitled Pathology founded on the Natural System of Anato- my and Physiology, & c. Preparing for earlypublication,a Galle- ry of Antkjuities, consisting of the princi- pal relics in the British Museum, from drawings by Arundale and others, in monthly parts. Mr. Grant, author of The Great Me- tropolis,~i & c., has just completed for pub- lication a new work, Lights and Shadows of London ~jf~~i A beautiful and embellished edition of Foxes Acts and Monuments, is in course of publication; the first volume has just been produced. A new edition, illustrated by fifty wood cuts and five steel engravings, of Mrs. Halls Sketches of irish Character,~~ with additions, & c., in 1 vol. Svo. An interesting work is in preparation on the plan of Mr. and Mrs. Halls Ire- land, founded on a series of personal surveys of the English counties, com- menced during the ~ear 1841, ,inder the title of England, it~ Scenery, Reso,,rzez, and Condition, & c. Sir Uvedale Price on the Picturesque, with an Introductory Essay on the Origin of Taste, and much original matter by Sir Thomas Dick Lunder, Bt., with sixty beautiful plates, in I vol. Svo, is announced for early publication. The lovers of alorious mirth will be glad to learn that Mr. T. Hood, the inimi- table punster of the day, has 3iist present- ed us with a new volume of his Comic Annual for 1842, with numerous illustra- tions by the author, Leech, & c. It is rumored in the literary circles, we [January, know not with what truth, that Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer has abjured novel-writing, owing to the indifferent success of his more recent works of fiction. He is now turning his attention to dramatic authorship. Conipanion for Leisure Hours; sixteen engravings, Svo; containing numerous pie- ces in prose and verse. The History of the Jews; in 2 vols. l2mo, illustrated with steel and wood en- gravings. Shells and their Inmates ; with frontis- piece in Baxters OIl colors - embellishments. ,and numerous Plants: containing in one volume, the seed, the leaf, the flower, the fruit, the grass; which are also published separate ly. With a handsome frontispiece and numerous embellishments. The Wife and Mother; or, hints t& Married Daughters. By a Mother. iSmo. Bogatzkys Golden Treasury for the Children of God; a new edition, I2mo. Emilia Monkeiro, a Ballad of the Old Hall Heath,Yorkshire, by W. H. Leatham. Count Clermont, a Tragedy, and Caius Joranius, a Tragedy, by Archibald Bell. An Essay oii Cephaloscope, and its uses in discriminating the nornial and abnormal sounds in the organ of hearing, withplates. By John H. Curtis. Murrays splendid edition of Childe Harolds Pilgrimage, embellished by up- ward of sixty vignettes, engraved in the first style of the art, from original draw- ings made expressly for the work by emi- nent artists, is now published, and pre- sents one of the most elaborately beautiful works ever produced. A new work of Travels is about imme- diately to appear, under the authority and patronage of the British government, en- titled Journals of two Expeditions of Discovery in North-west and Western Aus- tralia, duriiig the years 1837-8.9, descrip- tive of many newly-discovered, impor- tant, and fertile districts : with observa- tions on the moral aimd physical condition of aboriginal inhabitants, & c., by Capt. Geo. Grey, Governor of South Australia. In 2 vols. Svo, with upward of fifty illus- trations, & c. Maxwells Wanderings through High- lands and Islands of the North, being 2d series of Wild Sports and Legendary Sketches; 2 vols. Field and Fireside ; or, Ladys Year- book and Mirror of the Month : 30 plates. English Helicon of 10th Century, with embellished title; 1 vol. ; by T. K. Hervey. Sporting Almanac and Oracle of Rural Life, for 1842; 12 plates. By R. B. Davis. The beautifully embellished work, Life of Arthur, Duke of Wellington, 3 vols., with splendidly engraved portraits, battle scenery, maps, plans of battles, & c. The Battles of the British Navy, from the Norman Conquest to the present time, by Joseph Allen, Esq.,. author of Eng- lands Wooden Walls, 2 large vols. with numerous engravings. Blackwoods Standard Novels, by Gait and others, are in course of publication in monthly voluxnes, with illustrations by Phiz, Cruikshank, & c. Literary IntelligenCe. V 12] 121129 9yffR~a8o12 P ~a. Pl~i2~. 4 I-IL.] ai~11evj]12Y1rk

THE UNITED STATES MA(~AZJNE AND DE1V[OCRATJC REVIEW. YOL.X. FEBRUARY, 1842. No. XLIV. THE PEACE MOVEMENT. IT will be refreshing to the minds of those engaged in the as- perities of political contention, occasionally to turn their thoughts to the movements which have for their object the pacification of the embattled world. Though, to them, the day when the sword shall be beaten into the ploughshare may appear far distant, they will rejoice to have presented to them the possibility of a higher and holier state than the world has ever yet exhibited; they will rejoice to turn from the wrong and outrage with which earth is filled, to bring home the time when men shall learn war no more for ever. The Peace Movement, at the worst, is looked upon as a harm- less abstraction. It has to encounter the indiLUerence rather than the enmity of the world. Unlike other reforms, it does not array our selfishness against it. No one would if he could restrain the tongue or pen of its advocates. Fighting is not loved for fight- ings sake. War, by reflecting men, is looked upon but as a choice of evils; as a sad necessity; as the scourge of God upon the guilty nations. It is not now pretended that it brings any blessing in its train; if it ward off some greater evil, it has ac- complished the only good result claimed for it even by the most belligerent. The day has gone by when it was classed with the natural evils, with the earthquake and the storm. It is felt to be a moral evil, the consequence of bitter selfishness, the product of the lusts and passions of men. In itself, for itself, war has now no friends; peace and the peacemakers no enemies. Every one is therefore prepared, not only to listen attentively to the advocates of peace, but to reverence those who have fully imbued their own 108 The Peace Jifovement. [February, hearts with the mild, and forgiving, and self-sacrificing principles which they advocate; especially if they manifest a trustful confi- dence in man, and a firm faith in the ultimate spread of the truth. The enthusiasm and the high moral aims of such men endear them to us. We love them for their faith, their hope, their zeal, and bid them God speed in their attempts to lessen the miseries of the world, and to take from off the neck of the people every yoke, save that yoke which is light and easy to be borne. We cannot help admitting, that if unsuccessful in the one great ultimate ob- ject, they labor not in vain; that if they fail to show us the sun of righteousness already risen, they point us to the purple sky of the east, which betokens a brighter light beneath the horizon, and which is already dissipating the mists and darkness of the night. To this subject we have long desired to invite the attention of the readers of the Democratic Review. Let us in the first place fix it on the extent of the evil against which the advocates .of the Peace Movement contend; let us endeavor to estimate the mag- nitude of their object, by tracing out some of the consequences of the martial spirit, which in former times reigned in every heart, and which even now, though weakened, retains its domin- ion. Look to England; the supposed prosperity of this nation is believed to be the result of her military spirit. She has been al- most continually, from the Norman conquest down to the present time, in conflict with some other nation. Her military posts raise themselves up in defiance all over the broad surface of the earth; her floating batteries trouble the waters of the whole world. Her military spirit has gone north and south, and east and west, for conquest. The blood of her sons has moistened every soil, the bones of her children have whitened every land. Even now, that she may protect her trade, her warlike energy is employed in the slaughter of the peaceful Chinese! Has not the same spirit which fired the blood of the northern savage, when he overran the island now the mistress of the ocean, continued to manifest itself through generation after generation to the present day ~ Is it not the love of conquest, seeking good for itself by the destruc- tion of others, which has thus acquired and retained dominion over the remotest parts of the earth ~ Unlovely as is this trait of char- acter, pirate-like, robber-like as it is, opposed directly to the self- sacrificing spirit of Christianity, till of late few have been so hold as to question it. We allude not invidiously to England; we have selected her for an example, because it is easier to see the mist which hangs 1842.] The Peace Jifovement. 109 over others, than-that in which we are ourselves enveloped. The same red stream flows in our veins, and this Anglo-Saxon blood is pre-eminent in the annals of warfare. We vaunt ourselves that we are as skilful in shedding blood, and as ready and willing to encounter a foe on the field of battle, as the most warlike. Our homes in this land are mainly by conquest; we fought side by side with England as her colonies; the birth-throe of our nation was in the field of blood; the martial spirit was revived in our last contest with England; and even now there are many among us ready to let slip the dogs of war for a narrow strip of waste land on our eastern borders. Could we see ourselves as others see us, we need not look abroad for an instance of the deep im- buing of the spirit of war. In fact, though the Anglo-Saxon race are lovers of the fight to a degree unsurpassed by any other, the martial spirit has been the master of the civilized world, looking down upon the lives and happiness of the common people as of no worth, regarding them as but the counters in the game. The nations of Europe can hardly be considered as ever at peace. Their nominal peace is but as a truce between contending armies, that they may rest a while and bury their dead; continuing to stand face to face, ready at the signal to rush forward for the destruction of each other. There is no peace for the nations confronting each other with vast armaments, each jealous of its national glory, proud of its strength to rend and destroy. It is never a settled calm with them. There is nothing to bind down into subjection the con- flicting elements. Even when the sun shines out over them, when the storm is hushed, the thick dark clouds still skirt the horizon; let the wind but change, and the whole heavens are hung with darkness. Whether the battle rage or not, is beyond human con- trol. It depends on accident. A mistake in diplomacy, the irrita- ble temper of some public functionary, the caprice of the l~ader of a party, a mob on the frontier, a foolish mistake of a navy offi- cer, will pronounce the sentence of death upon hundreds of thou- sands, cause the widows groan and the orphans cry. The lusts of the Corsicari yoked seventeen populous nations to the battle- car. Human life arid human happiness thus, as it were, rest on the turn of the die. There is no security for man. He holds all that he values subject to the will, to the vices, to the mistakes of a few! It is against this galling aristocracy, this worst of despot- ism, that the advocate for peace contends. He would deliver the world from this abject bondage, and throw down the 4lltars of this blind butcher-god, whose murdered victims have been as countless as the sands upon the sea-shore. 110 The Peace J~fovement. [February, We can readily see how the world has been made subject to the sword. The slavery of the people has descended from gen- eration to generation. The occupation of our far-off ancestors was war the destruction of human life; their favorite amuse- ment was huntingthe shedding of the blood of animals. The thirst for blood, child after child, was drawn in with the moth- ers milk, stimulated by nursery rhymes, inflamed in early youth by a warlike literature~ The sword was the ornament for the gen- tleman; the use of it, the only means of distinction. The song of the poet, the smile of beauty, the favor of the king, the bless- ing of the priest, the applause of the multitude, completed the work of hardening mens hearts, so that they could seek to destroy each other, on any occasion, whenever and wherever the leaders deemed it for their interest that the work of death should begin. This has continued for ages as if there was no way of escape from the curse. It has been submitted to as a pestilence that could not be overcome, as a plague that could not be stayed; nay, not only submitted to, but, catching the ferocity one man from another, by appeals to their patriotism, their chiv- airy, their contempt of danger, they were made to delight in the carnage of the fight. Even Christianity has been harnessed to the war-chariot; the relig~ion which with her first breath proclaimed good-will to man, which was nurtured and strengthened by the blood of martyrs who sacrificed their own lives for others good,which ever spoke in accents of universal love, saying, If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he be athirst, give him drink,this faith of love and mer- cy, of meekness and charity, has been forced, with unwilling lips, to bless those on whom resteth the curse of Godthose who are swift to shed blood. Nay, nay! man never has had the bold- ness thus ~vho1ly to corrupt the truth. It is only the war of self- defei?ce, of national protection, over which the pure white robe of Christianity has been thrown. Thus saith the priestbut the soldier has stretched his Christian right to battle, to cover his deeds, whether he fought at home or abroad, to attack or repel, wheth- er he contended with his own countryman or with the foreigner, with his next door neighbor or the far-off Indian, on any ground, for any purpose. And none spoke to him of the wrong there came no voice of warning to his ears. The priest was silenthow could he speak l Was not his very church hung with the trophies of war It is true that George Fox and his peaceful followers, and some other small sects, have lifted up their voices against war. 1842.] The Peace Movement. 111 They eradicated from their own breasts the military spirit. But these men were of tile people, of narrow views, and of plebeian blood. They were despised and looked down upon. Their light could not penetrate the camp, or throw its rays upon the council board. Individuals, isolated men, in every age, have also written and spoken against the horrors of war, and of the opposition of the martial spirit to the spirit of Christ. But in vain. The still small voice was overwl~lmed by the shouts and the thunders of the battle-field. In our own country, Benjamin Franklin has the high distinction of being the first advocate of peace, of being perhaps the first statesman in the whole world, who publicly and forcibly attempt. ed to stem the tide of opinion, and to bear down on the custom of ivar. He had seen its horrors in the battles of the Revolution, he deplored the mad passions which they excited, and mourned over the wide-spread desolation of this sanguinary contest, and declared that the time would come, when men would no longer thus butcher each other. His sagacity and practical wisdom an- ticipated the movement of these latter days. We refer for proof, that he had raised himself far above the common tone on the sub- ject of war, to his correspondence with David Hartly, the British minister. It is full of the zeal and philanthropy of the peace-re- former. The following are extracts I received your favor of the 20th Sept., containing your very judicious proposition for securing the spectators in the play-house from the danger of fire But what are the lives of a few idle haunters of play-houses compared with the many thousands of worthy men, and of honest industrious families, destroyed by this devilish war! o that we could find some invention to stop the spreading of the flames, and to put an end to so horrid a conflagration. Again he speaks of means to make treaties more durable; still further, in a letter to Hartly, he says: What think you of a proposition, if I should make it, of a family compact between England, France, and America. America would be indeed happy, if she could be the means of uniting in perpetual peace her father and her hus- band. What repeated follies are these repeated wars! You can- not want to conquer or govern each other; why then be continu~ ally employed in injuring and destroying each other. How many excellent things might have been done to promote the internal welfare of each country; what bridges, roads, canals, and other useful public works, tending to the common felicity, might have been made and established with the money and men foolishly spent during the last seven centuries, by our mad wars in doing 112 The Peace .Movement. [February, one another mischief. You are near neighbors, and each have very respectable qualities. Learn to be quiet and respect each others rights. You are all Christians. One is the Most Chris- tina King, the other is Defender of the Faith. Manifest the pro- priety of these titles by your future conduct. By this, says Christ, shall all men know ye are my disciples, if ye love one another. Seek peace and ensue it. They who would further ascertain Fi1nklins opinions on the subject are referred to his correspondence on the subject of privateering; to his apologue of the angels beholding a naval engagement, in a letter to Dr. Priestley ; to his peace suggestions in his correspondence with B. Vaughan, Esq. Beside these, Franklin made many proposals for the improvement of the law of nations, having for their object the overcoming of the war spirit. In this work he found able coadjutors among the fathers of our republic. They were just from the battle, and the pov- erty and moral degradation of the people, the fiscal embarrass- ments, the wrong tone of public opinion, impressed them with the necessity of doing what they could to avert other conflicts. The journals of the Congress of the Confederation, says a sound writer, are full of such programmes as no~v emanate only from the bureaux of our Peace Societies. How striking the contrast in the feelings of these patriotic men, with the war mania of many of our present legislators. It would seem that a war in the back-ground, and one in our onward path, present very different aspects. How readily in the midst of Gods blessings do men forget the consequences~of his frown! So it ever has been. Peace soon called the public attention from the contemplation of the sufferings of war; and as our country increased in population, and gathered in of the worlds riches, the horrors of the battle were forgottenthe pain and weakness of disease fading away from the mind with returning health and strength. It was not until another war with Great Britain that the present permanent Peace Movement commenced. The foundation of the Massachusetts Peace Society was laid ia the year 1815. Similar institutions were established in various other parts of the country, and in Europe, and an active corre- spondence commenced, and has been kept up between these dis- tant associations. The formation of the first Peace Society in England was not, however, in consequence of,but simultaneous with, that in the United States. Dr. Noah Worcester was the founder of the first society in this country; William Pitt Scarlet first excited the attention of Englishmen to this subject. The ground first taken by the Massachusetts Peace Society was in 1844.] Tke Peace .JIIovement. 113 opposition to war not strictly defensive; but soon this gronild was found to be unfit for the purpose; it was not firm enough to bear the iatrenchmeat of peace. Public opinion drove the friends of peace to a higher stand. Every nation had its favorite war to be justified on the plea of national safety. Even Bonaparte fought only on the defensive as he said. The excused, justifi- able fight was always the fight then to be fought the popular war, the war in which the country was then engaged. Each na- tion for itself separated its own battles from the mass of crime in which they were mingled, and rejoiced in them, thus incasing pollution in fine gold, and holding it up for the admiration of the world. The Massachusetts Peace Society was therefore super- seded by the American Peace Society, organized in the year 1828, of which WiLLIAM LAnD was the first President, continuing in office till his death. The constitution of this Society declares that all war is opposed to the spirit of Christ. Besides the efforts of Worcester, Scarlett, and Ladd, there has sprung up a host of others all over this country, who are continuing the impulse given to the cause. In France the Society for the spread of Christian Morals have devoted a part of their efforts to this branch of reform. Count de Sellon of Geneva also founded a peace society there, and with untiring benevolence devoted him- self to this and kindred works. In England the Society for the Promotion of Permanent and Universal Peace continue their exer- tions resolutely and efficiently, and the labors of the British phi- lanthropios are felt throughout every part of that nation. This is an auspicious beginning of the movement. There is now scarce a to~vn, district, or neighborhood, where the question of the un- justifiable character of war is not discussed. By the pens of Worcester, and Ladd, and Channing, and many other~ in this country of Scarlett, Thrush, Clarkson, Dymond, and their coad- jutors in England of great and good men all over the world the peace doctrines are becoming gradually infused into the public mind. The peace literature is now no small addition to our libraries; the periodical press has teemed with a constant flow of articles on the subject; tracts have been scattered to the four quarters of the globe, and lectures and lyceum discussions have driven the subject home to the fireside of almost every man. A movement so general is not without a strong claim on the atten- tion of the politician. A reasonable success is abundaiitly proved by the zeal with which these reformers work, for had they found the shield against their attack impenetrable, they would before this have given up their warfare. So far from being discouraged, they never were more confident of success than at present; for VOL. X., No. XLIV.15 1 14~ The Peace Movement. [February, tfiough one of their leaders has been taken from them, his spirit remains to incite them continually to new efforts in behalf of the cause he has bequeathed to them. But what has been done l we hear asked. What has been effect- ed by all this machinery l You cannot point to the disarming of the nations; not one has adopted in practice the principles of peace; the flow of human blood has not been stopped; the pre- paration for shedding blood has not been stayed. This is true. But remember, a great change is to be effected inwardly before it manifests itself in the outward conduct. From the position of a nation glorying in war, regarding it as the instrument of her pros- perity, the~cherished employment for the energies of her most distinguished sons, to the full stature of a Christian people seek- ing others good rather than their own, the distance is mighty indeed. It is not to be traversed in one age. The onward path is indeed a long one. It reaches from the battle-field to a far-off Eden, to a paradise upon earth now hut dimly seen with the strongest eye of faith. Happy if men have entered this pathnay, happy if they linger at the opening, and then point out to each other the angel forms and spirits of the just made perfect, who now, with the grossness of the flesh thro~vn off, are still inviting them to enter the path they loved while on earth. Light has been scattered on this subject. There has been, we believe, a great change in public opinion. Though the fire has not been quenched, it has been kept in subjection; though the war trumpet is still continually sounding upon the ear, its notes have become harsh and grating to millions. Though the war spirit is not openly rebuked by the people, in every circle it is lamented. The war speeches are heard in silence, or, if applauded by the Un- reflecting, no echo of admiration comes back to reward the efforts of the provokers of strife. Though our newspaper press is often full of fight, it has but taken its cue from the noisy patriot who raises the war-cry as of old, forgetting that it has lost its charm among the people. Maine, said William Ladd, is my home; I know the people well. I have seen the tears on the cheek of men when they were speaking of the rash resolutions of their legislaturelaboring men too, the bone and muscle. I know the feeling of this State; they have not the war.fever. It is the con- test of the leaders of the two parties to outdo each other in this noisy patriotism. It is the office-holders and the office~seekers, who raise the war-cry. They are indeed noisy, for one idle grass- hopper will make a whole field vocal with his shrill note, while thousands of industrious ants are silently at work. We would riot overrate the results of the Peace Movement, for 184~2.] The Peace .Alovement. 115 that which men acknowledge has been done, is enough to make it cherished, and to encourage its friends in their future labors. The cause is onward. The signs of the times are not to be mis- taken. In the court of royalty, at the cabinet meeting, its influ- ence is felt. Collisions of interest, which a quarter of a century ago would have plunged nations into war, are now amicably set- tled. The custom of arbitration and of mediatorship is almost incorporated into the law of nations. The favorable ear which has been lent to the proposal of the establishment of a Congress of Nations, for the settlement of international disputes, demon- strates that the determination of the wise and good, to lessen the occasions of hostility, is felt by every statesman. There is, in- deed, a tempering down of the war tone, a growing spirit of mu- tual concession among the principal nations, and an increasing repugnance to war among every enlightened people. We do not claim for the Peace Movement proper the ~vhole merit of this change. Other causes are in constant action. These are the extension of commerce and the frequency of intercommu- nicationthe kindly affections flowing from heart to heart, silent- iy, noiselessly; for every keel that cuts the wave forms a path- way for love to travel in. There is, too, the spread of democratic principles, which go side by side with the principles of peace. Sound democracy ever contends against restrictive systems, na- tional barriers, the setting up of mens lives and means of happi- ness against the lives and happiness of other men, for the gain of the few. Its charm is that it proclaims good-will to men. Thou- sands flock to its standard because it is set up on the broad plat- form of universal hrotherhood, while the banner of aristocracy floats over the war-castle, the lord of which but feeds his vassals that they may have strength to fight for him. In Europe the governments of some of the most belligerent nations are not suf- ficiently strong in the affections of the people for them to encoun- ter safely the shock of war. The governed have not sufficient confidence in the rulers to make it expedient for the nation to mea- sure its strength with its adversaries. Add to this the national debtsthe bondage of the many to the capitalistthe price which the people pay for national glory. The over-loaded beast of bur- den already staggers under the weight; increase it, and he will be broken down altogether. Again; in olden times there were but two classes of men, the nobles and the people; now a third estate has raised itself upthe merchantsstrong in wealth, in intelligence, keenly alive to their own interest. They have rio war spirit, for the battle is death to them; and their influence is strengthening all over the world. The capitalists, they who hold 116 The Peace Movement. [February, the key of the worlds treasures, have a growing dislike to nation- al debts. The Jew does not now crouch at the foot of the throne, as he once did; royalty itself, ere it can prepare for war, must go on change. But it is in this country that the martial spirit has received its greatest check ; it is here that the pacific principles will first be adopted. Our political institutions direct the energies of every mind to questions of reform. While we love and reverence our fathers, we are not disposed to think that they attained to all truth. Their path was onward, and we best manifest our duty to them by pressing forward ourselves. They cut down the forest, and planted the grain, but there is no reason that we should suffer the unsightly stumps to remain in the field, because they had not the strength to eradicate them ; they will yield to us, for time has weakened the roots which fastened them to the soil. Our people are not deterred from the discussion of new opinions merely because they arc new. The cry of Radicalism does not close the ear to truth. The people will inquire for themselves of this matter; they will not wear any chain because their fathers were thus in bondage. They begin to suspect that the poor man, the strong.sinewed working.man, the labor.blackened artisan, has equal rights to life and to the means of happiness with the rich and educated. They begin to ask some radical questions on this subject. Are we, say they, to be cut off from our usual employ- ments by a declaration of war, and thus driven by a fear of star- vation into the ranks of the army, to be changed from freemen into the veriest slaves, whose every motion is controlled by oth- ers l Are we to fill the ditch with our bodies that our masters may pass over dry-shod l Nay, say they, it is unequal, unfair that we should be shot at for a shilling a day, while others, whose lives are no dearer than ours, whose wives and children love them no better than do ours, after being educated as~officers at the public expense, receive ample pay, and all the glory of the victory. And this too while the owners of the countrys wealth, for which we fight, tread on Brussels carpets, and, lolling on soft sofas, are out of harms way, rejoicing perhaps that a victory has been ~von, the price of which has been the destruction of ten thousand of us. If a war be needed for the good of our common country, let its dangers and privations be common too. These questions are already asked in whispers all over the land. They will be shouted in the ears of our politicians ere long. We have known a large audience to draw the deep breath of indignation ~vhen was read before them the cool calculation of a minister of war, deducting from his efficient force one-third of a large army, 1842.] The Peace Movement. 117 as the consumption by disease alone of a single campaign. It was a mere stroke of the pen a thing of course this consign- ing thousands of men to sickness, wo, and certain death, and done too with more composure than it would cost a humane man to direct a troublesome kitten to be destroyed. No wonder that the people felt indignation at the low value thus put upon human S life! Carlyle has said that the common people are always in favor of war, for then there is a demand for the common peopleto be shot. Not exactly so with us. It may be so in a starving population, whose only chance for life is in the ranks of the army; in a country from which corn-laws bar out the food of the people, and whose factories are closed by the restrictive sys- tems of the neighboring nations; ~vhere a man with a soul is of less value than the dogs in a noblemans kennel. Thank God that our people are not driven to this extremity. They feel that they have souls, feel that they belong to the family of man, and while their love of their country is not surpassed by any on earth, they kno~v what they can justly and fairly ask of their richer brethren. The time has almost gone by when the whole burden of war, both its suffering and its consequent taxation, can be thrown on them, while the educated, the wealthy, the influential, touch not the burden with the tips of their fingers. For who feels the burden of taxation save the poor man, whose comforts are abridged by it, whose bread for his wife and children is les- sened by it l What is the war debt but the mortgage to the cap- italist of the very sinews of the people, which must create the value that is to discharge it l This is radicalism indeed, but it is radicalism which has some definite claims upon the attention of the most conservative among us. What has the statesman to complain of in all this l You have spoken loud and strong of human brotherhood. You have pre- sented before the people a scroll, bearing, in large letters; the words equal rights. They have rejoiced to rend them, but now ask you to unroll your paper, that they may also read down to the very end. They have been taught some welcome truths, and they long for further light. The starving population of Europe are our brethren, and you that have taught us this great truth, that have excited our sympathies toward them, and made us love and pity them, will you now ask us to shoot down these men whom. degradation has driven to the army, because the govern- ment which oppresses them has also injured us l You have read the people some lessons in the philosophy of war, and they begin to love the study, and have some hesitation in placing themselves 118 The Peace .Movement [February, where they must kill or be killed, because of disputes which, if you possessed sufficient magnanimity, sufficient confidence in their practical good sense, could have been at once amicably ad- justed. The experiment of the unfolding of the democratic principle (we use the word democratic as denoting the elevation of the peo- ple, the binding them together in bands of a common brotherhood, creating a mutual interest in each other, the prostration of every institution which enables a few injuriously to affect the interest of others)is opening a new avenue to mens minds, and prepar- ing the people to learn of Him who spake as never man spake. We do not pretend that our political institutions are perfect, or that no evil follows the wandering of the people into untried paths, where no ancient land-marks nor guide-posts are set up. We do not pretend that the people are fully enlightened. Far from it. They see yet but partially. Their eyes are not fully opened. Yet with the light they have, they are boldly and earnestly in progress. The public mind is deeply excited. Lono~ established opinions, the customs of ages, are intently examined; and when satisfied of former errors, they have the self-confidence, the moral courage to uproot them. The new truth that has penetrated the masses, is mainly this :thnt there is much wo and wretchedness, poverty and degradation, carnage and oppression in the world, not necessarily there; that the wrongs done by man to man are not from the necessity of the case, but from the imperfect structure of society; that the gnawing hunger of a whole population, the abject bondage of many people, the degradation of millions, made machines of that they may be better soldiersthe rivers of blood that have been shedthat all these are not of Gods appointment, but the result of the bitter selfishness of the few; and that they, the people, have in times past been made slaves of, that they might be the scourges of each other, not for their own profit or pleas- ure, but to minister to the lusts and passions of those who control the movements of the nations. They begin to suspect the wis- dom which seeks to bring good out of evil, by opposing man to man, and by exciting in him the most ferocious passions for mu- tual self-destruction. Where is the good of all this l ask the peo- ple. To whose advantage is it i The good comes not to us. It destroys us. If our political institutions are sound, their tendency is to ele- vate the people, to diffuse the comforts of life among them all, to extend refinement of feeling a ad activity of mind through the whole mass; to improve the morals, and to call out into full ex- ercise the social feelings, the spirit of love and mutual kindness. 1842.] The Peace ~lfovement. 119 Now war is the opposing principle, the antagonist of all this, and of course conflicts with the spirit of our republican government. One unavoidable consequence of war, is the unequal distribution of property. It absorbs all the wealth of the country to fill still further the coffers of the rich. National experience in Europe proves this. Vast sums of money are extorted from the people to be returned, dollars to the few, cents to the many; and the war debt, as we have before said, is the mortgage of every mans sinews and muscles to the capitalist. War is necessarily an aris- tocratical state; the same relative distinction extends all over the land as is seen in the ships of war,the princely state-room for the master, the hammock for the men,the one enjoying ample space and the free air in his luxurious cabin, the others crowded below in a mass, to breathe the suffocating odors of the hold. It is, we repeat, necessarily so; war cannot be waged without these unjust distinctions. The many must become subject to the few, the money interest must be the lord of the ascendent, and when Peace returns she finds the habit of command in some, the wil- lingness to yield in others, firmly fastened upon the nation. The government, fused in the furnace of war, assumes the shape which the exiaencies of war demand; it takes the mould of the battle, and peace only cools down the mass into adamantine hardness, which ever after bears down upon the people with a crushing weight. It was the demand for leaders in the fight which created a nobility, and it is the continuance of the martial spirit which still buo~s them up above the level of common men. We have recurred to this view of the subject to sho~v that our relative position as a nation, that our republican institutions, fa- vor the spread of the principles of Christianity. It is our popular government, our democratic reference to the good of the people, the bold radical spirit among us, which will not rest satisfied with a lie because the lie has been told for ages, which makes our country the proper field for the spread of this reform, and en- courages the philanthropist in this blessed work. We do not pretend, as we befor~ said, that the people are fully enlightened on this subject. There are yet many in utter dark- ness, many whose prejudices against some one foreign nation have been industriously kept alive. There are others, too, the alarmists by trade, disturbers of the public peace for bread so reckless of consequences to others, that they are ever ready to hail with joy any commotion which shall break up the present relative positions of men. Still the people have their eyes par- tially opened; they see present evils, though their vision extends riot far away to see the curative means. For instance, in the case 120 The Peace .Jl6tovement. [February, of a war for the disputed territory, they cannot comprehend how the waste of money, life, human happiness, on both sides, can settle existing difficulties. Neither nation can conquer the other; and when at last the attempt at pacification is made, the exasper- ated feelings created by the war, so far from diminishing, in- crease the difficulties of an adjustment. They begin to feel too the utter folly of the terms national honor, national glory, national chivalry though many of our legislators appear not to have made the discovery. These terms are the watchwords of England a country in which twenty thousand people at least die annually of actual starvation where, notwithstanding this, the poor sailor or soldier, whose back bears the mark of the lash, and whose body is maimed, and whose mother and sister are on the parish, shouts huzza for his king and his country. Glorious England! They have some idea too that the spread of knowledge, the thorough diffusion of the comforts of life, in other words, the happiness of the people, is their true glory. They know that this glory is not promoted by war. Experience tells them that the sword has ever been the instrument of the tyrant and oppres- sor; and he that wields it even in the cause of liberty, too often has found he but obtained the name Of freedom, graven on a heavier chain ! We are aware that the popular indignation was excited and still continues, against those who took part in opposition to the last war; and rightly excited too. A party peace organization, while the country is engaged in fight, has the appearance of a traitorous combination, attacking the government when weakened by the employment of all its resourccs against the foreign foe. It was not the martial spirit of the country which the Federal party then opposed, but the one result of this war spirit the actual war then existing. It was not the unchristian nature of every war, but the inexpediency of the exercise of the right then to do battle. They did not place themselves on the high ground of the moralist, but on the lotv ground of the partisan. They did not so much consider the happiness and welfare of the people, as the success and triumph of a faction. Was it not so in the main though many may have joined the opposition from higher and purer motives! What moral right has any one to oppose his country; to embarrass her operations, when actually engaged in war, if he holds to the right and expediency of ever fighting at all! If it be proper, Christian-like, expedient, for a nation ever to declare war, when that war is declared by the constituted au- thority, no one admitting the premises has a moral right to be ~ 184~2.] Parting Words~ 121 found in opposition to it. Tie may oppose the declaration of war, but the declaration once made, it binds all whose consciences permit them to fight in any war whatever. It is supremely ridic- ulous to suppose that before hostilities can commence, the views of every party, and faction, and individual, are to be consulted. But on this retrospection we have no desire to dwell. We are now dealing with the present and the future, from which we will not divert our attention to rest it upon either the faults or the fol- lies of the past. We desire simply to add our voice to the gen- eral approval of all the good and the wise, for the encouragement of the noble movement of philanthropy denoted in the title to the present article. Within the limits it prescribes, we have been able to perform but half of the design with which we commenced; and we reserve for a second paper in our next Number a sketch which we propose to give of the life and character of one of the most remarkable men of the day, recently deceased; well known not only in this country, but over the whole civilized world, as the apostle of Peace of these latter days the late President of the American Peace Society, WILLIA1~1 LAnD. PARTING WORDS. nv MRS. C. E. DA PONTE. SPEAK not of me when hourly mid the gay And giddy throng, who circle round thy way, And proffer homage to that gentle eye, In whispered words and loves bewildering sigh. No, lady, not in scenes of such delight, Nor in thy halls with dance and song at night, Speak thou of one who doth not mourn his lot, By all but one true heart to be forgot. Ah, no, not thenbut in some lonely horn When fades the sun, and dew is on the flower, In such a time as falls that soft repose Fair evening sheds, and only evening knows ; As thy sweet eyes turn then their pensive light To worlds which burn beyond our mortal sight Let thy young heart, from earthly visions free,~ Give one fond thought to memory and to me.~ VOL. X., No XLIV.16

184~2.] Parting Words~ 121 found in opposition to it. Tie may oppose the declaration of war, but the declaration once made, it binds all whose consciences permit them to fight in any war whatever. It is supremely ridic- ulous to suppose that before hostilities can commence, the views of every party, and faction, and individual, are to be consulted. But on this retrospection we have no desire to dwell. We are now dealing with the present and the future, from which we will not divert our attention to rest it upon either the faults or the fol- lies of the past. We desire simply to add our voice to the gen- eral approval of all the good and the wise, for the encouragement of the noble movement of philanthropy denoted in the title to the present article. Within the limits it prescribes, we have been able to perform but half of the design with which we commenced; and we reserve for a second paper in our next Number a sketch which we propose to give of the life and character of one of the most remarkable men of the day, recently deceased; well known not only in this country, but over the whole civilized world, as the apostle of Peace of these latter days the late President of the American Peace Society, WILLIA1~1 LAnD. PARTING WORDS. nv MRS. C. E. DA PONTE. SPEAK not of me when hourly mid the gay And giddy throng, who circle round thy way, And proffer homage to that gentle eye, In whispered words and loves bewildering sigh. No, lady, not in scenes of such delight, Nor in thy halls with dance and song at night, Speak thou of one who doth not mourn his lot, By all but one true heart to be forgot. Ah, no, not thenbut in some lonely horn When fades the sun, and dew is on the flower, In such a time as falls that soft repose Fair evening sheds, and only evening knows ; As thy sweet eyes turn then their pensive light To worlds which burn beyond our mortal sight Let thy young heart, from earthly visions free,~ Give one fond thought to memory and to me.~ VOL. X., No XLIV.16 122 [February, MR. CAMPS ~DEMOCRACY.7~* THIS is an admirable little volumewith but one fault; namely, that being a little volume as it is, it had not been made a little smaller. That is to say, that if the three or four concluding chapters which the author has appended to the main body of his work, in the form of a Part II., had been omitted, we should have been able to omit the qualification we feel now bound to add to our approval of its general excellence of matter as of manner. It is evident that these chapters formed no part of the plan on which i~Ir. Camp had projected the lucid, logical, and beautiful essay on the general principles of Democracy, which constitutes his Part I. The latter was pronounced, we presume, by the Publishers, insufficient, in a mecha~ical point of view, to fill up the requisite bulk to give the volume admission to their Family and School Libraries; and the author has had to eke it out as per orderno longer under the inspiration which had before guided his voluntary pen, in a labor of love, performed in a manner not unworthy of his elevated and elevating theme; but under that kind of requisit.ion, for a given number of pages, supplementary and distinct, usually the least favorable to an authors success. The First Part is an essay on the abstract theory of Democracy, than which we know of none so complete, connected, compact. The author has rendered a valuable service to his country and its political literature. Mr. Camps pages are rich with thought, strong, clear, and well arranged, equally in their logic and their lan- guage. There is very little in this part of the volume which has not alike our concurrence and our admiration. There are many passages, teeming with important and interesting truth, and evin- cing profound reflection by an active and original mind, upon the grand subject of political science, which we had marked for ex- traction. The cheapness and facility of access of the volume in- duce us, however, to prefer to recommend the perusal of the whole notwithstanding the serious drawback to its value which we find, on some of the superfluous pages, he has been un- wisely induced to append to it. One extract alone we shall not omit, with which Mr. Camp closes that part of his work which we have taken pleasure in thus highly commending. We insert * Democracy. By George Sidney Camp. New York: Harper & Brothers, Cliff-st. 1841.

122 [February, MR. CAMPS ~DEMOCRACY.7~* THIS is an admirable little volumewith but one fault; namely, that being a little volume as it is, it had not been made a little smaller. That is to say, that if the three or four concluding chapters which the author has appended to the main body of his work, in the form of a Part II., had been omitted, we should have been able to omit the qualification we feel now bound to add to our approval of its general excellence of matter as of manner. It is evident that these chapters formed no part of the plan on which i~Ir. Camp had projected the lucid, logical, and beautiful essay on the general principles of Democracy, which constitutes his Part I. The latter was pronounced, we presume, by the Publishers, insufficient, in a mecha~ical point of view, to fill up the requisite bulk to give the volume admission to their Family and School Libraries; and the author has had to eke it out as per orderno longer under the inspiration which had before guided his voluntary pen, in a labor of love, performed in a manner not unworthy of his elevated and elevating theme; but under that kind of requisit.ion, for a given number of pages, supplementary and distinct, usually the least favorable to an authors success. The First Part is an essay on the abstract theory of Democracy, than which we know of none so complete, connected, compact. The author has rendered a valuable service to his country and its political literature. Mr. Camps pages are rich with thought, strong, clear, and well arranged, equally in their logic and their lan- guage. There is very little in this part of the volume which has not alike our concurrence and our admiration. There are many passages, teeming with important and interesting truth, and evin- cing profound reflection by an active and original mind, upon the grand subject of political science, which we had marked for ex- traction. The cheapness and facility of access of the volume in- duce us, however, to prefer to recommend the perusal of the whole notwithstanding the serious drawback to its value which we find, on some of the superfluous pages, he has been un- wisely induced to append to it. One extract alone we shall not omit, with which Mr. Camp closes that part of his work which we have taken pleasure in thus highly commending. We insert * Democracy. By George Sidney Camp. New York: Harper & Brothers, Cliff-st. 1841. 184~2] Mr. Camps Democracy. 123 it for the purpose of showing that he is not insensible to a point of view in which we have more than once attempted to present the great Truth of Democracy, in the pages of this Review But we have, in these modern times, a more powerful guarantee for the public mor- als. We have the Christian religion, which Greece and Rome had not. Its code of morals is perfect. Its sanctions are as powerful as it is possible for the imagination to conceive. It is never satisfied with the improvement of its disciples; it will never cease to make converts, unul it embraces the universal race of man. If humanity had a downward tendency, this religion would arrest its progress. It is implicitly believed by us that its achievements will be equal to its aims, and that it will go on conquering and to conquer until it shall have restored our race to its primeval purity. On the contrary, rites and ceremonies constituted the chief part of the religion of the ancients; and those rites and ceremonies, so far from improving, corrupted their vo- taries. The most disgusting and abominable orgies formed a part of them; while theft had a patron in Mercury, drunkenness in Bacchus, licentiousness in Venus, and every vice a precedent in the conduct of some of the numerous divinities of the an- cient mythology. It may readily be supposed that heathenism had but little connex- ion with the study of morals, which, rhile that odious system was universally popu- lar, excited no interest among the people, but was confined to the schools of the philosophers. There was thus no reiiovating principle for human nature; and it was left under all the seductive influence of circumstances, combined with a religion, it- self the offspring of the passions and vices of men, to an uncertain dependance on natural temperament and the unaided sanctions of a natural conscience. But the Christian religion not merely preserves our morals from corruption, and gives them a decided and continuous impulse towards improvement: it tends directly to the institution of democracy. Make men just, and they must be democratic. What will become iif usurpation and force, corruption and fraud, as Christianity takes its march over the earth? It respects no abuses, however ancient. It sanctions noth- ing but what is wise and what is good. It abhors the corruption, extravagance, and vaiiity of courts. It imbues man deeply with the fear of God, and those who fear God are inaccessible to any other fear. It fills us with a sense of the absolute equal. ity of the species. It teaches us to respect nothing so much as priuciple. It inspires the most dignified independence. It is democratic in its Author; our Saviour him- self came from the common people; he was born in a manger; he was a carpenters son. It was democratic in its apostles ; they were fishermen, poor, ignorant. and despised. It expresses its preference of the poor. Its morals are digested to the comprehension of the poor and illiterate. Its sanctions, no man so stupid but that he can comprehend. It inculcates the liberty of conscience; and no man who is thor- oughly impressed with the truth that his Creator has intrusted to him his own eternal salvation, can well doubt that the same wise Providence has fully accomplished him for the subordinate relations and responsibilities of this life, and his own government among the rest. No book ever written makes us so sensible as the Christian revela- tion of the dignity of man as man, and the frivolity of all those temporary or acci- dental distinctions vith which the world has been so long oppressed. I cannot refrain from noticing some strong points of similarity between the history of religion and of democratic liberty ; nor can 1 believe these points of resemblance between the fate of truth in religion and of truth in politics, mans chief terrestrial and the summary of mans celestial good, to be entirely capricious and fanciful. Both have always had the predominance of numbers against them. Both are sus- tained by principle, and would be annihilated by precedent or authority. Both flour- ish best on the same soil, and sympathize deeply in each others successes. Both have always inculcated the same contempt for human authority, the same regard for the poorer and humbler classes, the same disregard of merely adventitious and acci- dental distinctions, the same paramount authority of principle. Both have for their 124~ Mr. Camps Democracy. [February, basis the law of benevolence. Both have been reproached with the origin and char- acter of their supporters. Both have been stigmatized as the occasion of an exten- sive destruction of the species. Both have borne the reproach of being disorganizing and anarchical. The Christian religion is emphatically a religion for the people. It impregnates the masses with something better than humanity. What a religion for the many! What a basis for popular government! How elevated and how substantial the hopes of the friend of popular rights, when he feels that the progress of human liberty must keep pace with the progress of Christian illumination, and that the cause of man is thus identified with the cause of his Maker! In the Second Part, we have no fault to find with the chapter devoted to the refutation of Dc Tocquevilles favorite idea of the supposed tyranny of the majority in America. On the con- trary, the fallacy of this criticism, by the celebrated Frenchman, of the Democracy with which he was able to find no other serious fault, is very conclusively exhibited. No such tyranny exists. The mental independence fostered by our institutions might have been even more strongly asserted than Mr. Camp has done. The moral and social power of public opinionquite independent of the political organizationhe clearly shows to be a great power only in such cases, and to such an extent, as constittite it necessa- rily a salutary and useful one; while it has its origin in those fundamental laws of human nature, upon which all other forms of government only impose artificial and mischievous restraints, and to which the freedom of Democracy simply allows the natural and healthy action designed by their Author. This is not the tyranny of majorities, says Mr. Camp; it is the nature of man, more prominent only in republics, because government has less force and nature more.~~ Nor ~vith the chapter entitled Immigration have we any oth- er fault to find, than the authors omission to go to the ~vhole length which consistency with his own general principles seems to us to require. He states strongly the benefits which our coun- try has derived, and is daily deriving, from the influx of Ettropeart immigration; and not only dissipates the idle alarms with which it has been regarded by that most absurd of the political hum~ bugs of late years, Native-Americanism, but also administers a mild though just rebuke to that sectarian bigotry, which ~ve have recently seen so rife among us, and which would prefer to reject the manifold advantages brought by every immigrant, with a sinewy arm and a humane heart, rather than welcome, itt the true spirit of kindly brotherhood, a Catholic fellow-Christian. Af~ ter showing the fallacy of any apprehension from this source in a political point of view, he thus proceeds 1842.] .Mr. Camps Democracy. 125 To urge the influx of Catholics as an evil, in a religious point of view, is a flagrant error. The Protestant Christian, as such, ought to know no particular country. The soul across the Atlantic ought to be as dear to him as that of a native-born American. lie ought therefore to rejoice at an event which places the Catholic within his reach, within his means of influence and conversionat a change to a place where that (in his view) erroneous faith is more accessible, and truth is re-enforced by the strong auxiliary power of majorities. The religious Protestant ought to regard with great satisfaction an event which brings Catholics to his own door, ,to have their belief rectified if it be not orthodox, and thus converts every Protestant neighbor into a Protestant missionary. He ought not to fear for the cause of truth in an equal com- petition with error, but rather to invite such competition. The rivalry among religious sects has already redounded much to our secular advantage, and has actually, I be- lieve, made us a more enlightened people. It may well be doubted whether, had the population rapidly settling at the West been all Protestant, the same strenuous ef- forts would have been put forth there in the cause of education, or so zealously sus- tained. Yet, while on this subject, we should have been glad to see Mr. Camp go a little farther than he has done. While exhorting us to welcome the immigrant, even though he come in the rags of that pauperism to which he has been reduced by those oppressions of government in a foreign land, which have already served as the best apprenticeship to enable him to appreciate the blessings of the free institutions of his new home and country, we should have been glad if he had not stopped short at bidding us to in- terpose no capricious barriers to their amalgamation with our- selves, but had urged us to remove, at least to some extent, the barriers already existing, by reducing the unnecessary length of the term of residence now required by our laws of naturalization. We have no hesitation in declaring that we would have no objec- tion to admit the immigrant to every privilege of citizenship with- in a single year of his arrival, instead of the present period of five years with the simple qualifications of bonafide intention of residence, and the ability to read the newspapers, in which he will have found by that time a sufficient discussion of the lead- ing questions on which the exercise of the elective franchise will require him to form an opinion. The chapter on Aristocracy in America contains much on which we regret that our limits compel us to forego the criticism to which it is justly amenable. We must content ourselves with a few remarks on the chapter to which Mr. Camp will hardly regard it as a very desirable compliment that its doctrines have elicited an approval from his Whig readers as general as their condemnation by those of his own political faith. We refer to the chapter on The Right of Instruction. The Right of Instruction Mr. Camp calls a false pretence. He pronounces against it, without compromise, and without ex 126 J~fr. Camps Democracy. [February, ception. In his argument in support of this position, there is little that is new, though he states it ingeniously and plausibly. It is simply this: 1. The object of the Constitution of the United States, in the length of tenure of the senatorial office, is to render the incum- bent independent of the capricious fluctuations of the popular will. 2. By his election he becomes a representative, not of his particular constituency, but of the whole Union; and cannot there- fore receive a dictation from the one to control his legislation for the others. 3. It was only at the adoption of the Con stitu- tion that any true expression was made of the will of the people in this matter. They then determined, not simply that the pop- ular will should, as a general truth, give shape and direction to the action of government, but also that it should be done in a particular manner through a certain system of political ma- chinerywith vcrious checks upon the action of that popular will itself, for the very purpose of securing an eventual calm, sober, and mature expression of it. And, although they may be very respectable assemblages of men, yet no number of persons among a particular constituency can claim any right to this title as the People, to supersede, by mandatory instructions, that original and still paramount authority. 4. In the case of sena- tors of the United States receiving instructions from State Legis- latures, it is an usurpation of power on the part of the latter to ~vhich the former is not bound to pay any regard; both being different sets of representative agents of a common constituency, with distinct duties, rights, powers, and responsibilities, neither in any way amenable to the other, and each bound to confine itself with- in the strictly defined limits of its delegated authority. 5. And finally, that the alleged amenability to instructions would deprive the popular minority of an important conservative right, as against temporary minorities, which is secured to them in a long and independent tenure of the representative office. Now, in all this, Mr. Camp loses sight of the idea which lies at the bottom of any system of representative democracy namely, the very representative character of the agent delegated by the people of every particular constituency to speak their voice and act out their will. The just point of view in which our whole apparatus of legislation should be regarded is, that it is but a set of convenient labor-saving machinery, to supersede the necessity for the assemblage of the great masses of the People themselves, to discuss and dispose of the affairs of their own self-government. This idea would be realized in its high- 1842.] JIfr. Camps Democracy. 127 est perfection, when, each of the various subdivisions or dis- tricts adopted for the convenience of election being represented, each delegate should correctly express the will of the popular mttjority of his own constituency. The legislation would then be the action of each separate local majority, and of the aggre- gate national majority; while a sufficient safeguard to the rights of the minority would be found 1,in the sense of justice of the majority, and the interest of each individual composing it to respect those rights which he himself may, before long, on some other occasion, have to invoke, when himself in a minority ; 2, in the fact that the majority of to-day is subject to the appellate jurisdiction of the majority of to-morrow, and that the sceptre of its power is sure to depart from it, if it offend the moral sense of the honest public mind by any marked act of wrong of this character ; 3, in the triple sets of agents through the hands of which every measure of legislation must pass, each independent of the other, and each representing different bodies or portions of the common constituency ; 4, in the universal freedom of every form of public discussion, giving to a minority in danger of being thus injured or aggrieved, such opportunities of remon- strance, and of appeal to the sense of justice as well as to that of the true permanent interest of the majority, as reduce down to the minimum point of probability all such danger as Mr. Camp thinks it useful to guard against in the anti-republican and anti- democratic mode contended for by him. And suppose it to be conceded that an occasional case may happen, that the constitu- ency giving the instructions may be wrong, and the representa- tive disobeying them right, and that before long the majority of the former should come over to the position of the latter; yet this is a case less likely to happen than the reverse, in which unworthy or interested motives should lead to the abuse of his delegated powers by a representative indifferent to a future re- election, or perhaps despairing of it on other grounds; while, as a general rule, unless Democracy is all wrong ab initio, the para- mount authority in the matter may be much more safely trusted to the honest and disinterested intelligence of the popular con- stituency, than to any individual agent, however prudently he may have been selected at a former day for his post. The chance of his going wrong is at least quite equal to that of error on the part of the majority of the people on the ground of intelligence alone; while on the ground of the possibility of sinister or unpa- triotic influences warping the judgment, the danger a danger of a formidable and mischievous kiad is wholly on the side of the individuaL 128 Mr. Camps Democracy. [February, In the case of a senator of the United States receiving instruc- tions from the legislature of his State, we have always so far agreed with Mr. Camp as not to regard the right as absolute and unconditional on the part of the legislature. Both represent the people of the State; and it may be possible that the representa- tion by the senator, on some given occasion, may be more correct than that by the other body, though that is not a case of very likely occurrence. For example, the matter on which the instructions are given may not have been at all before the people at the time of the election of that body; or, from an unequal dis- tribution of the districts, the minority which voted against the instructions may represent the majority of the people; or some sinister or accidental influences may have carried away the majority in the body, or a portion of them, into an act at variance ~vith the true will of their own constituents. In such cases the senator must judge for himself, under a high responsibility to his State as well as to his conscience. He may disregard the instruc- tions, if he truly and honestly believe that, in doing so, he best carries out the actual will of the whole people of his State. But the instructions are prima facie evidence of that will, which must be conclusive ~vith him, unless he can positively prove the con- trary to the satisfaction of his conscientious belief. We have no wish to dwell further on this topic, and will add but a single remark in conclusion. Mr. Camps inference of the intention of the framers of the Constitution, as expressed in the long tenure of office, is quite gratuitous. That instrument was a compromise of many variant opinions. Such was undoubtedly the meaning of some, but not of the more Democratic portion of their number; and though the latter consented to the long ten- ure, it was doubtless under the impression that the working of the system would be in harmony with the genius of that Democ- racy, which was evidently to be the pervading spirit of the whole. The instructions may be obeyed without resignation, even with a protest of the private opinion of the individual; and (not incompatible with obedience to instructions, which are but rarely given, and only on the great occasions usually deemed worthy of such interposition) all the other benefits supposed to be derived from the long tenure may be obtained without a violation of the great cardinal principle to which all others must stand subordinate, of popular self-government, by the absolute and perpetual prevalence of the will of the majority.. 184~2.] 129 THE IRISH GIRL. BY THE AUTHOR OF HOPE LESLIE, & C. My peace is gone; My heart is heavy; I shall find it never, And never more. Now sit down, Margaret, child, and rest youhere by my bed-side. How comfortable my bed feels !it always has the right lay when you fix it, Margaret. Come, sit downthe work is all done up, and done as well as I could do it myself even the outside of the tea-kettle is as clean as a china-cup. Its a mys- tery to me, Margaret, how you learned such tidy ways in a shanty. Its not always that I have lived in a shanty, Mrs. Ray. Dont turn your back to me, Margaretdraw your chair closer to my bed. I want to have a little talk with you, Margaret. I feel myself going down-hill, and I dont know how long I may be spared. God forbid you should be taken, Mrs. Ray, dearyou that are so good to them thats near and them thats far off. You must not flatter me, Margaret, said the old woman, in a tone of voice that indicated anything but displeasure. And do you think Id be after flattering you, Mrs. Ray you that are mother-like to me. God knows you are kind, and its James says the same; and you know yourself James, God forgive him, loves no Yankee besides you in the world. But I mistrust, Margaret, said the old lady, fixing her faded gray eye on the young creature, I mistrust Jamess sister cant say the same. Margarets cheek, ordinarily pale, turned to a deep crimson. The old h dy cleared her voice and continued. Its no crime, nor nothing like it, Margaret, to love whats good hemif whats good is whats suitable. This seemed a mere common-placeism, but Margarets cheek turned pale again, and a tear trickled over it. You say you have not always lived in a shanty, Margaret, and thats what I have said to our people. Says I to sister Maxwell, Margaret has had as good opportunities as the most of our mountain girls; says I, she can read handsomely theres few can read like her, says I I wish the minister could read so, says I her reading sinks right down into the heart. Who is flattering now, Mrs. Ray, dear U Not I, Margarettis not our way to flatter. VOL. X., No. XLIV.17

184~2.] 129 THE IRISH GIRL. BY THE AUTHOR OF HOPE LESLIE, & C. My peace is gone; My heart is heavy; I shall find it never, And never more. Now sit down, Margaret, child, and rest youhere by my bed-side. How comfortable my bed feels !it always has the right lay when you fix it, Margaret. Come, sit downthe work is all done up, and done as well as I could do it myself even the outside of the tea-kettle is as clean as a china-cup. Its a mys- tery to me, Margaret, how you learned such tidy ways in a shanty. Its not always that I have lived in a shanty, Mrs. Ray. Dont turn your back to me, Margaretdraw your chair closer to my bed. I want to have a little talk with you, Margaret. I feel myself going down-hill, and I dont know how long I may be spared. God forbid you should be taken, Mrs. Ray, dearyou that are so good to them thats near and them thats far off. You must not flatter me, Margaret, said the old woman, in a tone of voice that indicated anything but displeasure. And do you think Id be after flattering you, Mrs. Ray you that are mother-like to me. God knows you are kind, and its James says the same; and you know yourself James, God forgive him, loves no Yankee besides you in the world. But I mistrust, Margaret, said the old lady, fixing her faded gray eye on the young creature, I mistrust Jamess sister cant say the same. Margarets cheek, ordinarily pale, turned to a deep crimson. The old h dy cleared her voice and continued. Its no crime, nor nothing like it, Margaret, to love whats good hemif whats good is whats suitable. This seemed a mere common-placeism, but Margarets cheek turned pale again, and a tear trickled over it. You say you have not always lived in a shanty, Margaret, and thats what I have said to our people. Says I to sister Maxwell, Margaret has had as good opportunities as the most of our mountain girls; says I, she can read handsomely theres few can read like her, says I I wish the minister could read so, says I her reading sinks right down into the heart. Who is flattering now, Mrs. Ray, dear U Not I, Margarettis not our way to flatter. VOL. X., No. XLIV.17 130 The Irish Girl. [February, Nor ours. God knows, Mrs. Ray, its what we feel we speak, be it good or bad. Well, well, Margaret, I know some does call real kind heart- words flattery, but they are no such thing, I knowwe wont talk about that now. As I was saying, judging from your reading and writing, you have seen better dayshavnt you, Margaret l Some days they were better, and other days not. I had an aunt was housekeeper at Lady Kavenaghsand my lady respect- ed my aunt, and she would have me to come and live with her in the house-keepers room. And Miss Grace took a fancy to me, and taught me to read and write, and so forth. Then, after all, said Mrs. Ray, with manifest disappointment, your parents have always lived in a shanty ?~ They lived in what we calJ a cabin, maam,thank God. Margaret, you forgetIve often told you its not right to use the name of God in vain as you do. You should not say thank God, ~vhen you mean nothing by it. Indeed, Mrs. Ray, dear, and I do mean something. I never think of my home in that cabin without thanking God in my heart, and God forgive me if I dont thank him with my lips too. That cabin was my home, Mrs. Raythere was a kind father and the kindest of mothers always working and earning for us. There it was my little sisterGod bless herdied; there was James, my mate, always glad to see me and sorry to part from me; there was never a harsh word among uswe laughed and we cried to~~ gethcrwhnt one loved, the other loved, and what one hated, all hatedhadnt we whats best in castle and palace, and not al- ways found there l Ive often thought, wouldnt my lady Kave- nagh gladly change with my mother, and rough it with loving hearts and happy faces ~ Oh, I dare say, Margaret, ladies in the old countries have it hard enough, as every one knows who reads the newspapers but that is nothing to the purpose. What I want to come at, Mar- garet, is, would youcould you be content to live in a cabin again l you would hold your head above it wouldnt you l Margarets form dilated as she impulsively rose from her seat, and raising and clasping her hands appealingly exclaimed: God strike me dead then if I would !it was in a cabin that my father and mother thats gone livedit was in a cabin that James and I grew up together with one heart between us. Oh, Mrs .Ray, dear, God forgive youits such a long time ago, I think you have for- gotten what a happy thing it is to be a child at home, in your own fathers placebe it castle or cabin, its all the same. Dont be affronted, child, and dont cry, said kind Mrs. Ray, wiping her eyes, and somewhat overpowered by Margarets vehe 1842.] The Irish Girl. 131 mence; your feelings are natural, and quite right, but there is no need of such a hurricane. I am sure my sons and daughters love me and are dutiful to me, but its in a quiet regular way. And thats the way of your people, Mrs. Ray, dear, but our feelings come in a storm, and you may as easy keep the winds that come howling over your Becket hills quiet, as keep them stillbut its not always we are feeling, and God forgive me if I have said anything to fret youyou that are so kind to me. Its a satisfaction to be kind to you, Margaret, and I dont like to leave my work half done so sit down again. Ill be candid with you, Margaret, and you must be candid with me, an dopen your heart to me as if I were your own mother. Ah, Mrs. Ray, dear ! Margaret kissed the old lady. I am going to use freedom, child who gave you that blue guard-chain that you wear round your neck day and night i Sure it was William Maxwell, then, replied Margaret, in a voice scarce above her breath. Margaret was learning that some of our feelings, and those of the strongest too, are stillest. And what have you hanging by it, Margaret l Margaret answered by drawing out a small crucifix appended to the guard-chain, kissing it, and crossing herself. 0, Mar- garet, Margaret! thats to be a cross to you indeed, I fear I must tell you the truth, there is nothing William Maxwells Jmarents have such a horror of as a Catholic, and there is nothing his father despises like an Irish person. But its not William Maxwell thats after fearing the one, or despising the other, said Margaret. No, thats true. William is not a serious young man, and hes thought little about religion yet, one way or the other ; but when he comes to consider, Margaret, he will feel, as we all do, that its a dreadful thing to be a Catholic, and pray to saints, and worship im- ages, and so forth. And besides, I know William better than you do, Margaret Ive known him from his cradle hes my own sis- ters son, and I love him, and hes a pretty young man, but William has not resolution to go against his parents will, be it right or wrong. Take care, child, youve dropped your stitches now, Margaret, child, hear me patiently consider, to-day is not for ever, and them thats young and soft like you, if their feeelings are cast in one mould, they can be cast over in another. Will ye speak right out what you are after saying to me, Mrs. Ray, dear 1 Be patient, child slow and sure, you know. We cant have everything just right in this world, Margaret when one door is opened~ another is shut young folks must be conform- able. Margaret sighed with irrepressible impatience, and Mrs 132 The Irish Girl. [February, Ray proceeded more directly: Its my opinion, Margaret, that William can nowhere find a likelier girl than you are. You have just the disposition to please sister Maxwell, and Providence somehow seems to have set you down here, making the place for you, and you for the place, as it were and somehow you have taken an unaccountable hold of my heart, and I cant blame Wil- liam and so I was thinking, Margaret, as the rail-road is almost done, the shanties will soon be broke up, and James will have to look for work elsewhere; youll have a good chance, as it were, to break up your connexions with all these people, and after a little while you will be no more an Irish girl than Belinda Anne Tracy. Margarets face was turned quite away, or probably Mrs. Ray would not have proceeded and then as to your beads, your crucifix, your confessions, & c., the sooner you give them all up, the better, child, for soul and hody too Say no more, Mrs. Ray; God forsake me if I forsake Him, and deny my parents and my people, and cast off James heart of my heart better for my soul, say ye l and what would be left of my soul, if all faith and love to God and man were out of it ?~ Oh, Mrs Ray, I would not have thought it of you ! The poor girl wept as if her heart were broken. Mrs. Ray tried in vain to soothe her. She no more argued or persuaded ; she was ashamed that she had done either. Her strong innate sense of right triumphed over the prejudices of education and society; and having begun with proposing to her young friend to abjure her faith, and forsake her people, she ended with respecting the loyalty that kept her true to both. Little need be said in explanation of the relations and history of the parties introduced to our readers. Margaret OBrien had belonged to one of those encampments of Irish that are found along the lines of our rail-roads, while those great works are constructing by those people who, driven forth from their own land by misery and multiplied oppressions, come here to do our roughest work, and share our bread and freedom. Their shan- ties, built for transient use, are constructed with the least possible expense and labor; and though perhaps adequate to their ideas of comfort, are a sad contrast to the humblest homes of our own people. There is little found in them besides strong healthy bodies and warm hearts the best elements of happiness in any home. Would it not he well for our people to consider more maturely than they have yet done, the designs of Providence in sending these swarms of Irish people among us l Is it not possible that their vehement feelings, ardent affections, and illimitable gene- rosity might mingle with our colder, and (we say it regretfully) l84~2.] The Irish Girl. 133 more selfish natures, to the advantage of both l And at any rate, by losing the opportunity of promoting their happiness, of bind- ing them to us by the blessed links of humanity, are we not doing a wrong to our own souls l Can good be effected to them or to ourselves by contemning their nation, and deriding their religioni Margarets father lost his life while working on the Western Rail-Road by the blasting of a rock. Margarets mother was ill at the time the shock of seeing his mangled body brought home without warning occasioned, as was believed, her death. The report of the melancholy fate of these people spread through the neighborhood, and Mrs. Ray, impelled by her Christian heart, went to look after the orphan girl. She was struck with the loveliness of her countenance, her sweet manners, and the superior decency of her habitation. Why, said she afterward to the Maxwells, who expressed their surprise that she should take a girl from the shanties into her family it wasnt like a shanty I They were not all herded together like cattle, as they commonly are, but the place was parted off into three rooms; there were bedsteads rough, to be sure and there were clean sheets and decent spreads; and they had some chairs; and Mar- garet a little table with a drawer, all made by her brother, and a work-basket, and everything tidy on it, and a picture hanging over it A nicture! some saint, I dare say, interrupted Maxwell, his lip curling. It might be, for aught I know, replied Mrs. Ray, meekly, but I should not think any one need to be the worse for a saint the picture of one, I mean, hanging up before them. I assure you, brother Maxwell, everything had a becoming appearance there was considerable earthen-ware and silver tea-spoons, and it was evident they had lived like folks and as to the poor orphan girl, she is as neat as the neatest of our Becket girls Be- linda Anne dont exceed herand she is so pretty spoken and pretty looking and as I wanted help that would be company too, I was glad to get her; and her brother having to go to work on the next section, was glad to leave her in a suitable place for one so young and comely. I hope you dont think I did wrong, brother Maxwell, concluded Mrs. Ray, who, though very apt to do right from her own impulses, was rather weakly nervous as to the judgment of others. You are nn independent woman, and must judge for your- self, Mrs. Ray. Everybody knows tis my principle to keep clear of the Paddies. I neither eat nor drink with theni, and I go not in nor out among them. But you sell to them, said Mrs. Ray, with a smile that faintly 134 The Irish Girl. [February, indicated what she did not say, and what she retained because she was a woman of peace, and rarely struck a discordant note. The complaints she had heard from these poor strangers and wayfarers in the land, of the exorbitant prices demanded by brother Maxwell, for his pork and potatoes, were fermenting in her mind. Yes, I sell to them I take care of number one. As the Bible says, he that dont provide for his own household is worse than an infidel. I take that passage in another sense, brother Maxwell; I provide for my family by buying of them ; I buy Margarets services, and she throws in her love, and I would not change bar- gains with you. And I should not be afraid to show books with you, widow Ray, retorted the sordid man. I dont keep any books, replied Mrs. Ray; her accounts are nevertheless set down, and will probably show fairest at last 1 Maxwell is one of those who bring dishonor on the good name of his people. His industry runs into anxious toil, his enterprise into avarice, his economy into miserliness, his sagacity into cun- ning, his self-preserving instincts into selfishness. Having one of the largest farms in Becket, his ruling passion is to make it larger. Enjoying and imparting never enter into his calculations; and, as was said of a far loftier person, he had not so much joy in what he had, as trouble and agony for what he had not. His only son and heir,William, though resembling his father, had an infusion of his mothers more generous disposition a sprinkling of her more attractive qualities. How the proportions were balanced, and which preponderated, will be seen by his conduct. Margaret OBrien was much less hopeful than most young peo- pIe. Early changes and sorrows had superinduced a reflective- ness and sadness on the natural vehemence and cheerfulness of her character. Life seemed to her a dark and tangled path, and she shrunk from pursuing it. She had not yet learned that there is an inner light, which always shines on the patient soul. She was silent and abstracted all the day after her conversation with Mrs. Ray. She performed her usual domestic duties negligently. I saw plainly, Mrs. Ray afterward said, that the poor girls heart was not in them; but then, sister Maxwell, I was only thinking how pretty she looked, and what a blessing she would be to the man he he who he would that should marry her. Well, we are short-sighted creatures. As the day declined, Margaret became more restless. She was 184~.] The Irish Girl. 135 continually going to the door, and looking up the road. Who are you expecting l asked Mrs. Ray. Its James I am looking for he promised he would be down some day this week. Margaret blushed deeply, conscious that, though telling the truth, it was not the whole truth. No James came. No approaching footstep, hoof, or wheel, broke the dismal silence that surrounded the widows dwelling. Margaret became more and more unquiet, and at last said she would go and meet James: that would shorten the time; and if I am not at home at tea-time, dont wait for me, Mrs. Ray, dear; it is not very far to the shanties, and if I should be late home, there is a bright moon to-night. Margaret was already on the threshold. Mrs. Ray called her back. My child, she said, dont stay out late you know I am of an anxious make, and easily startled, and you are not looking yourself, Margaret, since our talk this morning; and Im not superstitious, and dont really believe in such things, but there has been one of the neighbors dogs howling unac- countaby lately; and last evening I fully meant to put on my pur- ple shawl, and when I came to take it oW it was my black one, trimmed with crape! I dont believe in signs, but they make one feel and if any evil were to happen to you, Margaret, I should feel just as wounded as if it were one of my own daughters. God the God of the fatherless bless you, Mrs. Ray, dear, and keep all trouble far from your door. Margaret kissed her old friend, and promised to return as early as possible, and that promise Mrs. Ray afterward said was a great comfort to her, for she was sure she meant to keep it. Margaret walked hastily up the road, and took a horse-path that, passing through a wood,. led by a cross-cut to the railroad. Winter comes on prematurely in Becket, a high, cold, mountain town. Though it was yet October, the glow and almost metallic brightness of our autumn foliage had passed away. The leavesr the summers wealth, lay in piles on the ground, or hung in sadly thinned companies rustling on the branches; leaden clouds were driving over the sky, and snow falling in scattered flakes. Margarets way lay along a leaping and gushing mountain- stream, which, to the ear of the happy, called up images of courage and joy, but to Margaret it may have sounded mournful and omi- nous. .May, we say, but there is reason to think that the poor girl wUs deaf to the sympathies of nature, that her mind was possess- ed with one idea, and that it mattered not to her whether the voices of nature were cheering or sad. She did not even pause at Hardys rock, though that had been her trysting tree. This 136 The Irish Girl. ~February, was a rock easy of access from the road, but precipitous toward the stream, with a broad flat summit. The stream below it was dammed, partly by a natural accumulation of brush and stones brought from above, and partly by art, and it set back in a deep basin. The stream, swollen to a torrent by late rains, had over- flowed the margin of the basin, and covered the little strip of level ground around it to the very edge of a steep cliff; whose pines and furs were darkly reflected in it. But a few weeks be- fore Margaret had sat on this rock with William Maxwell, and, while she listened to him, had woven a wreath for her bonnet of the asters and golden-rod that were now withered like her hopes. Below the dam was a saw-mill belonging to William, and he often came down to it toward evening to see what work had been accomplished during the day. It was nearly two weeks since Margaret had seen him, and in that interval she had heard that, in rustic phrase, he was paying attention to a young girl, who, by the recent death of her father, had become sole proprietor of a farm adjoining Maxwells, and was heiress to herds, pasture-land, and much rural wealth. This young person was the Belinda Anne Tracy, of whom Mrs. Ray had spoken in the morning to Margaret ~vith more meaning than met the ear. Uncertainty was intolerable to Margarets impatient Irish nature, and It will now be ended! she exclaimed, as, listening intently, she heard the tramp of William Maxwells horse long before she saw him. She was hid- den by a projecting point of the rock, and he did not perceive her till he was arrested by her voice, not in a loud, but thrilling tone, pronouncing his name. Margaret! is it you l I did not think of meeting you, but I was going this evening to see you. Margaret raised her eyes to his, and a gleam of pleasure shot through them, but they were quickly cast down again, and her lips trembled as she said: Theres many a lonesome evening come and gone since I have seen you, William Maxwell. Thats true, Margaretand it is true, too, that a man may be in one place, and his heart in another. Where was your heart then, William, when you was after go- ing down to Westfield with Belinda Anne Tracy l With you, Margaret, and with none but you, and thats as true as that I stand here on this solid groundbut one cant that isI mean Margaret, with hurried and trembling hands, untied the guard- chain by which her crucifix was suspended, and kissing it, aud then holding it up, she said, I have sworn on this that I would know your true mind, William Maxwell, and if you respect your- selfif ever you respected meif you respect this sign, of what 1842.] The Irish Girl. 137 is best and holiestif you respect Him thats above, then tell it to me. Maxwell felt the solemnity of the adjuration, and dared not evade it; and it maybe that he was glad to be, byasupe- nor ~vi1l, to make a communication for which he had been in vain trying to summon resolution for the last two weeks. Margaret, he began, in a faltering voice, it is true, as I have told you many times, I do love you as I never did, nor ever shall love another. I never spoke a false word to youyou are my first love, and you will be my lastbutbutthere are others to consultI am riot free to follow my own wishesthe truth is, Margaret, my father has feelings about your people, and he never will give them up. He took a solemn oath before me and my mother. I swear, he said, Ill cast you off for ever, if you marry one of the Paddy folks !my mother, you know, is sickly, and I am her only child, and if it went to this, it would break her heart, and so she told me~and, Margaret, if I cant marry you, I dont care who I marryand so, this being the true state of the case, and no help for it that I can see, I have made asas good as an engagement with Belinda Anne Tracy. Margaret kept her eye steadily fixed on him till he had finished. She then drew the guard-chain from the crucifix, threw it away, and pressing the crucifix to her bosom, turned off without speak- ing a word. William followed her. Margaret, Margaret, he said, do let us part friendsyou cannot be more sorry than I amonly say you forgive me ! But he spoke in vain; Margaret made no reply, except by motioning to him to leave her; and per- haps glad to escape from the piercing rebuke of that sweet coun- tenancemore in sorrow than in angerhe mounted his horse and rode away; bearing with himto be for ever bornethe conviction that the heaviest visitation of his fathers anger would have been light, in comparison with the sense of a violated faith to this loving, true-hearted orphan-stranger. Maxwell had but just disappeared when Margaret met her bro- ther James. Is it you, Margaret l he said: Gods blessing on you, then! but what are you fretting at ? Pm not fretting, James, dear. Now, Margaret, whats the use of telling me that, when you dont so much as lift your eye to me, and your cheek is as white as that bit of muslin round your neck 1~ Is it Mrs. Ray thats been after chiding you l Mrs. Ray! No, no, James; shes every way like our own mother to me. Margaret, my sister, my childfor youve neither father nor VOL. X., No.XLJV.iS isa The Irish Girl. [February, mother but meI never yet spake his name to you; if its Wil- liam Maxwell that frets you,if its true, as the boys say, that hes false to you, Ill break every bone in his body. James! youll break my heart speaking so. Oh, James, dear, keep Gods peace, I pray you; its you only in the world I love now. Its a black world. Good night, James. You are far from your place, and you have been hard at work; dont go further with me. 1 would not leave you, Margaret, dear, a step short of Mrs. Rays, but I have promised Mr. John Richards to meet him above the bridge there. Ill come down to.morrow, and remember, Margaret, we two are alone in the world; and for my sake, and for the sake of them thats in their graves, keep up a brave heart. Good night. She did not answer me, thought James. He stopped and looked after her till she was hidden from him by a turn in the road: Gods heaviest curse will surely fall on him if hes broke her heart, and she so young, and innocent, and beautiful to look upon ! Such blistering thoughts were in Jamess mind till he joinedMr. Richards. In the mean time Margaret retraced her steps along the margin of the stream till she reached again Hardys rock. The heavy clouds had rolled down over the setting sun, and left the eastern sky, where the full moon was rising, cloudless. The moonbeams glanced athwart the firs, silvering their branches, and fell on the summit of the rock: the water under it was still in deep shadow. It was on this rock that, two months before, the moon shining as it now shone, but then on summer beauty, and poor Margaret, With hinnied hopes around her heart, Like simmer blossoms,~~ that, returning from a fair at Pittsfield, she bad plighted faith with William Maxwell. Again she felt herself drawn to that spot probably without any ill designwith only an intolerable sense of disappointment and misery. The scene brought back with intense vividness her past happiness. What it is to remember that under the pressure of present wretchedness, most have felt, and one has described in words never to be forgotten: Nessun maggior dolore Che ricordarsi del tempo felice Nella miseria. James met Mr. Richards at the appointed place. After a few moments he said: James, you are thinking of one thing and talking of another. What is the matter l James confessed he was anxious about his sisterthat she l84~2.] The Irish Girl. 139 seemed very unhappyand he was sorry he had left her to go home alone. Mr. Richards is a young engineer of most kind and active sympathies. James had worked under him on the rail- road, and he particularly liked him. He at once entered into the good brothers feelings. Let us walk down the road, James, he said: you can easily overtake your sister, and we can as well talk over our business walking as standing here. Accord- ingly they proceeded. When they reached the little bridge we have mentioned~ Mr. Richards involuntarily paused and looked down the stream, which here and there seemed playing with the moonbeams. Why, there is your sister, James, he said, sit- ting on Hardys rock. The Lord bless her, and so she is ! said James. The words were scarcely out of his lips when Margaret slid down the steep side of the rock into the pool beneath. James uttered a wild scream, and both young men ran down the road together at their utmost speed. The place was soonest accessible by the road, but that was winding, and the distance was full an eighth of a mile. When they reached the spot, a white muslin scarf Margaret had worn was floating on the water. Both jumped in. James, impelled by the instinct of his affection, forgot he could not swim, and Richards, to his dismay, saw him sinking. He dragged him out, bade him remain quiet, and plunging in again, he very soon brought up Margarets body. But the time had been fatally prolonged by poor James, and every effort to restore her was unavailing. A company of Irishmen coming from their work below joined them. They entered into the scene with hand, heart, and tongue. Ha ! said one of them, it was Judy yesterday was afther saying, Hell never marry Margaret maning William Maxwell. Its that Thracy girl, with houses and lands, hes afther. Curse the Yankees, theres no sowi in them ! Its not William Maxwell at all, said another, hes a dacent young man; its his fathers rule upon him ! Richards bade them all be silent, saying it was no time now for such a discus- sion. Sure thats rasonable, said one And sure I did not mane you at all, Mr. Richards, said the man of the sweeping anathema, for its an Irish heart you have, any way, and thats what all the boys say. James seemed to hear nothing. He was rubbing and kissing, alternately, one of Margarets hands that was firmly closed, and he at last succeeded in taking from it the crucifix which it firmly grasped. Just at this moment a man had alighted from a wagon, and was looking on. The Almighty be praised ! cried James, pressing the disengaged crucifix vehemently to his lips. Mar- 140 The Irish Girl. [February, garet having died with it in her hand was to him a token of infinite good. The looker on, at this action of James, turned to his compan- ion in the wagon, saying Its only a Paddy girl,~~* got in, and drove on. The Irishmen, who till then had been too much absorbed to notice him, looked up, and perceiving it was the elder Maxwell, they uttered curses deep and loud, and threaten- ing summary vengeance, they were following when James inter- posed. No, no, he said, with fearful calmness lave him to me, boys when her wake is over will be time enough. Rich- ards saw him turn away, murmur something in a low voice, lay the crucifix on Margarets hand, and kiss them hoth together. Margaret was carried to the dwelling of an Irish friend; a priest was brought, and the ceremonies of their religion were strictly observed. Immediately after the funeral, Mr. Richards, who had scarcely lost sight of James, took him aside poor fellow, he looked as if he had lived twenty years in the three preceding days. James, he said, tell me truly, did you not make a vow to revenge your sisters death 1~ Sure I did that, sir on her crucifix, and on the poor dead cold hand that held it. God forgive me but could I help it ~i There she lay dead! dead ! the sweetest flower that ever blossomed trampled under their feet when 1 heard the very man that had done it say, ifs only a Paddy girl! Oh, Mr. Richards, my hearts blood boiled, and my father and my mother it was, and all my people I heard crying me on to vengeance and I did swear to take their livesfather and son; and I have made confession of the same to Father Brady. And that has saved you from this horrid crime, James i Not that, sir. What then ? Its just yourself, Mr. Richards you and Mrs. Ray.It was just your goodness to me that stilled the howling tempest in my breast and for your sake, and Mrs. Rays, I forgave all your people. It was Margaret said they were almost her last words, Mrs. Ray is every way mother-like to me; and didnt I see the old lady after crying hot ears over her l Sure, Mr. Rich- ards, if there were more like you, and the old lady God bless her there would be an end of cruelty and hate, and love would bind all hearts together even your peoples and mine ! * This expression was in fact uttered by one of our people, and heard by the brother of the girl at such a moment as we have described. 1842] 144 CHORUSES FROM THE GREEK TRAGEDIES. BY H. W. HERBERT, ESq. V. CHORUS OF TROJAN CAPTIVES. MeXLo~roTp6~ov ~aXapZvo~.Euripides-Troadesv. 794. STROPHE I. KING of that isle, which brightest billows kiss, Bee-haunted Salamis That sea-girt isle, whose sweet and sacred shore, First spot of earth, the hallowed olive bore, Blue-eyed Minervas pale immortal crown, The greenest leaf of Athens young renown Thou !thou it was !thou, glorious Telamon, Who, girt in panoply of living gold, Didst sail joint-chief with that strong archer old, Alcmenas hero son! What time great Ilion, to destroy thee quite, In fierce, revengeful spite, All as they parted from the Doric shore, The god-like champions swore. ANTISTROPHE I. What time unpaid his dear immortal prize--- Those coursers of the skies The flower of Hellas all in arms he led, Moored his stout galleys in the reedy bed Of Phrygian Simois, and leaped astrand, A monarchs slaughter in his red right hand! Then fell the walls Apollo built so strong! Then to the skies upsoared the crimson flame, And down to earth the cloud-capped turrets came, With thunders loud and long! So Troy was lost of yore !but once again The spear has scourged the plain. The bloody spear !T wice, twice, both tower and town, Old Troy has toppled down! STROPHE II. In vain !in vain! Thou who, in ministry of the golden cup, With silent steps and slow, Soft gliding to and fro,

1842] 144 CHORUSES FROM THE GREEK TRAGEDIES. BY H. W. HERBERT, ESq. V. CHORUS OF TROJAN CAPTIVES. MeXLo~roTp6~ov ~aXapZvo~.Euripides-Troadesv. 794. STROPHE I. KING of that isle, which brightest billows kiss, Bee-haunted Salamis That sea-girt isle, whose sweet and sacred shore, First spot of earth, the hallowed olive bore, Blue-eyed Minervas pale immortal crown, The greenest leaf of Athens young renown Thou !thou it was !thou, glorious Telamon, Who, girt in panoply of living gold, Didst sail joint-chief with that strong archer old, Alcmenas hero son! What time great Ilion, to destroy thee quite, In fierce, revengeful spite, All as they parted from the Doric shore, The god-like champions swore. ANTISTROPHE I. What time unpaid his dear immortal prize--- Those coursers of the skies The flower of Hellas all in arms he led, Moored his stout galleys in the reedy bed Of Phrygian Simois, and leaped astrand, A monarchs slaughter in his red right hand! Then fell the walls Apollo built so strong! Then to the skies upsoared the crimson flame, And down to earth the cloud-capped turrets came, With thunders loud and long! So Troy was lost of yore !but once again The spear has scourged the plain. The bloody spear !T wice, twice, both tower and town, Old Troy has toppled down! STROPHE II. In vain !in vain! Thou who, in ministry of the golden cup, With silent steps and slow, Soft gliding to and fro, 142 Choruses from the Greek Tragedies. [February, Dost fill Joves goblets up With bright nectarian rain In vain !in vain! Child of Laomedon, Hast thou thy godhead won? Since Troy, which did thee nurse, Hath felt the fiery curse, While all sen-shores rung As with a birds lament for her lost young These for their spouses weeping, For their dead children these, Or for their mothers dear untimely sleeping! The dewy baths, that did thy boyhood please, The old gymnasia, where thy feats were done, And all thy youthful glories won, Are past and gone! But thou thy young and sweetly-peaceful cheek By Joves immortal throne dost sleek In pleasures all divine; Although the Grecian spear has razed to earth The very walls, that saw the birth Of Priarns noble line! ANTISTROPHE II. O Love !O Love! Thou, ~vho the Dardan halls didst seek of old, Aiding with all thy fires The heavenly gods desires How didst thou make us bold By ties with those above? O Love !O Love! Now hast thou lost thy name Of Love, to be Joves shame ! And now this blessed light Of white-winged morning bright, With radiance all serene, The ruin of this wretched land hath seen Seen hapless Troys undoing! Although this white-winged morn To her own arms did win by sweetest wooing A genial husband of our coun try born, And courts him still to her voluptuous bed Whom erst her four-horse chariot red, To heaven upled By the sweet daystar, fondly rapt on high, Leaving fair hopetoo soon to die Hope to his friends behind! Thus Troy has learned how much is worth Celestial love toward things of earth A gust of empty wind! 1842.] Choruses from the Greek Tragedies. 143 V. CHORUS OF TROJAN WOMEN AFTER THE SACK OF TROY. a1~9L~, 7rovr(o~ ai5pa.Earipides; Hecubav. 444. STROPHE I. Whither, 0 breeze, 0 sea-breeze wild and sweet, Which oer the azure wave Speedest the ocean-roving galleys fleet, Wilt hurry me a slave? Say, in whose bondage shall my spirit pine I What prison-house be mine? Whether shall it be upon the Doric strand? Or in that Phthian land, Where old Apidanus, sire of the brightest rills That seaward sparkle from earths ancient hills, Bathes every meadow green and shadowy dell, As Grecian minstrels tell? ANTISTROPHE I. Or, wafted by strong oars that sweep the spray To those Egean isles, Must I a life of sorrow wear away, Where the Greek Daygod smiles On waving palm-trees and on laurels green That spread their sacred screen. Latonas pangs maternal to embower, And Phmhns natal hour! Singing, amid the Delian damsels bright, Thy horned bow, and shafts of silver light, Thy golden coronal, Diana fair, And long translucent hair? STROPHE H. Or, must I broider robes of saffron die In chaste Minervas shrine Hard by Athenas sacred ramparts high Yoking the car divine, In many a blazoned thread of brightest hue? Or picture fair that fierce Titanic crew, Whom scathed and ruined by his thunderous blast Jove quite oerthrew, And from heavens height to deepest hell down cast? 14~ Queen ~fary. [February, ANTISTROPHE H. Wo! wo is me for my lost childrens lot! Wo fbr my parents dear! Wo for my country! for each hallowed spot Sacked b~r the Argive spear, And wrapped in smoke, a realms funereal pall! While Ia slave at foreign despots call Leave lovely Asia prostrate by the wave, Fierce Europes thrall And beg for bridal bower a quiet grave. QUEEN MARY, AN AUTHENTIC PASSAGE FROM THE EARLY HISTORY OF GEORGIA. BY W. GILMORE SHIMS, AUTHOR OF THE YEMASSEE, ,, GUY RIVERS, THE KIN5MEN~~~ & c. THE circumstance we are about to relate forms a curious epi- sode in the history of our sister State of Georgia, and had nearly proved as tragical in its results, as it was certainly romantic in some of its aspects. It is well known that Virginia and Carolina had their respective orders of nobility ; the former its Knights of the Horseshoe, the Ultra-Montane order; and the latter its Palatines, Caciques, and Landgraves ; but Georgia had her Queen! a dame of supposed royal descent, and, unquestion- ably, of very royal ambition. This person was an Indian woman, originally known among the whites as Mary Musgrove; subse- quently, as Mary Matthews, and, finally, as Mrs. Mary Bosom- worth. She was a woman of some influence among the Mus- coghee Indians; and being naturally very intelligent, was select- ed by General Oglethorpe as an interpreter between the whites and her people, at an early period after his settlement of the colony. He distinguished her by many favors; allowed for her services one hundred pounds sterling per annum; and employed her as a principal agent with, and messenger to, the nation. She delivered his talks and presents to the tribes; perhaps settled as well as expounded the terms of his treaties, and, in all respects, was a person whose importance, in her own eyes, was but the natural consequence of the position which she acquired in the equal esteem of her own and the white people. Of her personal

14~ Queen ~fary. [February, ANTISTROPHE H. Wo! wo is me for my lost childrens lot! Wo fbr my parents dear! Wo for my country! for each hallowed spot Sacked b~r the Argive spear, And wrapped in smoke, a realms funereal pall! While Ia slave at foreign despots call Leave lovely Asia prostrate by the wave, Fierce Europes thrall And beg for bridal bower a quiet grave. QUEEN MARY, AN AUTHENTIC PASSAGE FROM THE EARLY HISTORY OF GEORGIA. BY W. GILMORE SHIMS, AUTHOR OF THE YEMASSEE, ,, GUY RIVERS, THE KIN5MEN~~~ & c. THE circumstance we are about to relate forms a curious epi- sode in the history of our sister State of Georgia, and had nearly proved as tragical in its results, as it was certainly romantic in some of its aspects. It is well known that Virginia and Carolina had their respective orders of nobility ; the former its Knights of the Horseshoe, the Ultra-Montane order; and the latter its Palatines, Caciques, and Landgraves ; but Georgia had her Queen! a dame of supposed royal descent, and, unquestion- ably, of very royal ambition. This person was an Indian woman, originally known among the whites as Mary Musgrove; subse- quently, as Mary Matthews, and, finally, as Mrs. Mary Bosom- worth. She was a woman of some influence among the Mus- coghee Indians; and being naturally very intelligent, was select- ed by General Oglethorpe as an interpreter between the whites and her people, at an early period after his settlement of the colony. He distinguished her by many favors; allowed for her services one hundred pounds sterling per annum; and employed her as a principal agent with, and messenger to, the nation. She delivered his talks and presents to the tribes; perhaps settled as well as expounded the terms of his treaties, and, in all respects, was a person whose importance, in her own eyes, was but the natural consequence of the position which she acquired in the equal esteem of her own and the white people. Of her personal 1842.] Q~ieen JIiary. 145 charms we are not advised. The bald, ascetic chroniclers of that day do not condescend to make them a topic of inquiry or even remark. But, whether much or little, she contrived to enslave the affections of no less a person than a reverend divine at Frederica, one Thomas Bosomworth, a preacher of the Church of England, and chaplain to Oglethorpes English regi- ment. It is very clear that this person was not insensible to her political influence at least; and, from the sequel, it may not be harsh to infer that worldly considerations had some weight in rendering his judgment peculiarly sensible to the attractions of her beauty. Whether from insanity, or an ambition so very wild as to look very much like it, he projected such a scheme of selfish aggrandizement as threatened, at one time, the entire destruction of the Colony. His aim was nothing less than to establish a claim of sovereign right in the soil, by virtue of his marriage with Mary, his wife, in whose veins it was made to ap- pear that the blood of royalty flowed predominant. His process was not without a sort of ingenuity, such as distinguishes most of the proceedings of monomania. One of the Indian chiefs, or kings, as it was the courtesy of that period to style them, was chosen to facilitate this purpose~ This chief, named Malatchie, was a Muscoghee warrior, very brave, and very stupid; but in very high esteem among his peo- ple. He was easily persuaded by the ambitious parson to suffer himself to be formally crowned and anointed, after the European fashion, as Emperor of the Muscoghees! Of the particulars of this solemn farce we have no accounts. A clever description, by some quaint humorist, would be a rare piece of pleasantry to the modern reader. We know, however, that the affair took place at Frederica, some time in December, 1747, in the presence of a very large number of Indians, many of whom were chiefs and principal persons. Perhaps there were very few among them,, Malatchie himself not excepted, who knew the nature of the strange ceremonial in which they were busy; but, taking into account the good cheer and the strong drink which came along with it, it is not hard to believe that they would not have been unwilling to have made a dozen emperors, nay, to have become each of them a prince in his turn. Whether Parson Bosomworth himself, or some less important personage, poured the sacred unction over the head of the dusky sovereign whom he thus in- ducted into his new honor& , is not written. We are left to con-~ jecture the minor fooleries of this farce. The main fact is pre cisely as we have related it. VOL. X., No.. XLIV.19 146 Queen Mary. [February, But, whatever of form may have been wanting to the ceremony itself, it appears that the reverend chaplain took particular care that the manifesto, declaring the event, should fail in no respects, whether of publicity or precision. The document which ~vas put forth on this occasion has been fortunately preserved; and may, at some future day, bother the heads of antiquarians, and suggest some new difficulties among the American archa3olo- gists. It ran thus: FItEDERICA, (Georgia,) Dec. 14, 1747. Know all men by these presents, that we, Simpeopy, war.king of the Cowetas; Thlockpalahi, head ~varrior of the said town; Moxumgi, king of the Etchitas, (or, as now written, Hitchetas;) Iswige, head warrior of the Etchitas, and Actithilki, beloved man of the said town; Ciocotichee, king of Osuchee, (Osweechee;) Appalya and Isehabogy, beloved men of INipkey; and 1-limmopacohi, warrior of said town; Tokeah, war- king of the Chehaws; Whyanneachee and Etowab, warriors of said town; Ma- helabbi, beloved man of the Cussetahs, and Scheyah, warrior of said town; and Estchothalleatchi Yahulla (Voholo) Mico (chief or king) of the Tuskigas; having full power, by the laws of our nation, to conclude everything for the towns we represent, do hereby acknowledge Malat- chie Opeyo, Mico, to be our rightful and natural Prince. And we like- wise further acknowledge that, by the laws of our nation, we think our- selves obliged to stand by, ratify, and confirm every act and deed of his, as much as if we ourselves were present; and we therefore make this pub. lic declaration to all subjects of the Crown of Great Britain, that Malat- chie Opeyo, Mico, has full power and authority, as our natural prince, to transact all affairs of our nation as firmly and fully, to all intents and purposes, as we, the whole nation, might or could do, if we were present. In confirmation whereof, we set our hands, & c. This document was signed by the parties whose names it com- prises, in the presence of some half-dozen white witnesses, prov- ed by one of them, and put on record in the Secretarys office in South Carolina, as rigidly authenticated as if its value were eqt~tlly great and unquestionable. Visionary and absurd as the whole matter may seem, this rare fooling was soon discovered to be the fruit of certain very selfish and deliberate purposes. Bosom- worth, by whom it was devised, seems to have suffered from that inferior form of madness, which, in all its phases and fluctuations, never loses sight of a general, governing, but narrow and sneak- ing cunning. It is scarcely possible, however, in regarding his subsequent proceedings, to consider him as other than insane, even in the moment of his keenest policy. Charity, at least, would have us presume so. Having gone through the first scene 0f the drama to his satisfaction, having declared and crowned 1S4~2.] Queen Mary. 14l the emperor of the Muscoghees, his next step was to persuade him to such an early exercise of his new powers of royalty, as to procure an adequate reward for the happy genius in whom the ex- cellent scheme originated. Accordingly, a deed of conveyance was drawn up in common form, by which the new emperor of the Upper and Lower Creeks, in consideration of ten pieces of stroud, twelve pieces of duffles, two hundred weight of powder, two hun- dred weight lead, twenty guns, twelve pair of pistols, and one hun- dred weight vermilion, conveyed to Thomas Bosomworth, and Mary his wife, all those tracts of land known by the names of Hussopee or Ossabaw, Cowleygee or St. Catharines, and Sapelo Islands, with their appurtenances, & c., warranting the same to the said Thomas and Mary, so long as the sun shall shine, or the waters run in the rivers, for ever. Signed on the 4th day of the Windy Moon, (14th Dec.) Parson Bosomworth, who was not unwilling to become Prince l3osomworth, having procured his grant of land from the new Emperor the work of his own hands proceeded to assert his title, and secure possession. But, before this, that he might strengthen his claim in every possible way, he put in circulation, for the first time, the pretensions of his wife Mary to sovereign, or next to sovereign rights, among the Muscoghees. She was now discovered to be an elder sister of Malatchie himselfthe Emperor and sprung, like him, from the Indian sovereign who had previously exercised the supreme dominion among the tribes. From this moment, she assumed the title of an independent Prin- cess; and among the friends and followers of Bosom~vorth, and such of the Indians as they could manage, she was now only known as Queen Mary. She disavowed, with documentary for. mality, all allegiance to the King of Great Britain, or any other king, and renounced every connexion with him or his represen- tatives, other than such as should result from treaties, offensive and defensive, arid such alliances as sovereign princes find it pol- itic to establish, on equal terms, from time to time, with one another. The matter did not end here. The practical results were yet to come. Her next proceeding was to bring the Indians togeth- erwhich she did in very considerable numbers; and to announce to them her novel pretensions. In a long speech she set forth, and possibly convinced them of the policy, if not the justice of her claims; and, with more effective art, insisted upon their own. It was not difficult to convince her subjects that they had been robbed and wronged by the English. The loss of their territories 1~8 Queen Mary. [February, was a favorite theme to those who, profligate and wandering, cannot appreciate the value of a fee-simple, and, probably, in dis- posing of their lands, never imagined that the purchasers bought more than that temporary use of them which they themselves en- joyed. Marys eloquence proved singularly imposing. She had a talent for speaking, was artful in a high degree, and her audi- ence and herself being equally susceptible to fiery words, in con- sequence of the fiery draughts which had been employed to opea the proceedings, she soon wrought herself and them into a con- dition of unexampled fury. Her remedy was that of a sovereign She disdained the arts of peace and solicitation. Her remedy was the ultima ratio regum, and she determined to carry on the war with no ordinary vigor. The effiect of her speech was all that she desired. It was instantaneous and overwhelming. The savages were fired at her alleged injuries and their own. They fle~v to arms, and, to a man, pledged themselves to perish in the recovery of their common rights. In ordinary cases, it would not be difficult for a clever Indian or- ator to excite his people to phrensy, and lead them into injudi- cious war. That this woman should so succeed in this insane pur- pose is not a matter which should appear either unnatural or strange. She had actually derived her consequence among her people from her employment by the whites. As a confidential messenger of Oglethorpe to the tribes, conveying the presents ~vhich were sent them annually, she, in fact, acquired an influence over them su- perior to that of their most favored chieftains. The warrior naturally blessed the hand which brought him the tomaha~vk and rifle, beads, blankets, and vermilion. She favored those who obeyed her; to offend her was to forfeit, in whole or in part, a share in the spoils and treasures which she brought. She did not overrate her power upon their minds, and easily moved them, as we have seen, to take up arms at her summons. Prepared thus for the last resort, Quecn Mary was not, how- ever, disposed to forego entirely those stated forms, in which her reverend husband had shown himself so very expert. Escorted by a large band of savages, she set forth, in a sort of royal prog- ress, for Savannah, solemnly to demand from the President and Council the restoration of her inheritances and the recognition of her sovereign title. A herald was despatched in advance, to announce her coming, who was instructed formally to demand the delivery, without loss of time, of all her land south of the Savan- nah. The same special messenger ~vas commanded to denounce fire and sword in the event of a rejection of her claim. In other 1542.] Queen .Mary. 149 words, the whole force of the two grand divisions of the Creeks, the upper and lower nation, was to be brought down upon the trespassers, in support of their rightful Queen. The affair now, in spite of all its absurdities, began to put on a serious aspect. The troop of savages by which she was attended gathered force as it proceeded; and these, inflamed by her artful addresses, were now beyond their own, and possibly her conirol. The whole military strength of Savannah, in this emergency, amounted to less thaa two hundred men. The president (Ste- vens), alarmed at the approach of the ambitious lady, and her furious escort, hastily convened his council. They knew, and justly dreaded, her influence over the Indians. They also knew their own weakness; and their resolution was taken to temporize with the Pretenderto affect attention to her claims, and, lulling her caution to rest, by gentle and persuasive measures, at length seize upon her person when they could hope to do so with safety. Meanwhile, they were not neglectful of the necessary measures of defence. Orders were sent hastily to collect the neighboring militia, and bring them to the city, while that of the town was secretly collected and judiciously disposed, in preparation for the dernier resort to arms. Such was the happy use made by the proper authorities of the intelligence which they gained from the herald who brought the summons of Queen Mary. Had she marched forward, the sur- prise would have been complete, and this narration would have found a far different and far darker termination. But the advance of the Pretender had this characteristic of a royal progress, that it was slow, if not stately. Bosomworth, who attended her, seems to have been full of conceit; and swelling with the idea of his new dignities, he approached with staid pace, in order to give an opportunity to his messenger to meet him with the answer of the Council. Perhaps, also, the advance was something embarrassed by the usual effects of strong drink among the chiefs. At all events, the important moment was gained, and while the herald of Queen Mary, attended by a messenger from the city, delivered an evasive answer from President Stevens, the whites were bur- nishing their muskets, and sharpening the edges of their sabres. When the savages reached Savannah, they encountered the mili- tia of the town, under arms and ready for their reception. A brave fellow, Captain Noble Jones, at the head of a select corps of cavalry, by a timely show of intrepidity, compelled the savages to ground and deliver up their arms, as the only condition upon which they should be permitted to enter the city. Taken by sur-. Queen Mary. [February, prise, when, perhaps, they expected to find the citizens unprepared for so decisive a measure, they were compelled to submit; which they did with great reluctance. They were deprived of their arms, but the indignity increased their fury, and they appeared among the citizens with a sullen ferocity which denoted a resent- ment too deep to be concealed, and which, under any additional excitement, could yet find weapons enough to make itself dan- gerous. The reverend prince, Bosomworth, in his canonical robes, with his queen beside him (it is not said what kind of robes she wore), followed by the kings and chiefs, marched through the streets (20th July, 1749), making a most formidable and frightful appear- ance. When they came to the parade, the militia were under arms to receive them, and gave them a ceremonious salute of fif- teen cannon They were then conducted to the house of the president, where a consultation ensued with the Indians on the subject of the claims of Thomas, and Mary his wife. From this conference they were excluded, and the Indian chiefs alone were desired to declare their objects. But this they declined to do, unless through their queen and usual interpreter. They said that she should speak for them, and they would abide only by what she said. They had heard that the whites were to send her like a captive over the great waters, and hence their coming in such a body to protect their queen; they were unwilling to lose her; they meant no harm, however, and demanded the restoration of their arms, which Captain Jones had taken from them, & c. To this last demand the Council gave their consent; the arms ~vere restored, but all ammunition was rigidly withheld from them. With this proceeding the conference of the day finished. The Indians quartered themselves for the night in the streets, and, deprived of ammunition, did no mischief. But they meditated it not the less, and were un~visely permitted, in the mean time, to have communication with Queen Mary. In the morning, the effect of this indulgence was very soon made evident. They filled the city with clamor and tumult, marched through the streets, to the re-awakened terror of the people, striking and shaking their arms, and lashing themselves, by their own violence, into the necessary degree of rage for the desired mischief. The women and children of the whites, dreading every moment to be scalped, added to the uproar by their cries of apprehension; but the men steadily kept progress with the savages, armed to the teeth, and with silent firmness, and a watchfulness that could neither be frightened nor laid asleep, soon rendered it apparent to the savages them 1842.] Queen Mary. 151 selves that their objects could only be obtained after a bloody struggle. While the militia were thus employed in watching the proceed- ings of the great body of the Indians, a portion of their chiefs ~vere engaged with the Council in discussing the business on which they came. It so happened that a false report was put in circulation without, that, during this discussion, the President of the Council had been murdered by the chiefs. This report aroused the fury of the whites, and nearly brought about the catastrophe which it was the equal policy and wish of the Georgians to avoid. It was with great difficulty that the militia could be restrained from commencing the affray, by a general fire upon the savages. Such a proceeding would have deluged the town with blood. The citizens might have conquered in the end, but with what horrible loss! The Indians were the most numerous. Deprived of am- munition, they had yet their knives, tomahawks, and rifles, and after the first fire, in close conflict, hand to hand, the advantage would have remained with the most numerous party. The small corps of cavalry which the Georgians had would alone have com- pensated an inequality, which was otherwise too imposing to ren- der a conflict of the sort desirable. A more peaceable policy was adopted, and succeeded at least as well, perhaps better. The reverend gentleman who had been the parent of the mischief, in his royal or religious robes, and in the very odor of his new dignities,the royal unction yet smell- ing strong upon his brov,~vas privately seized and carried into confinement. Irreverent hands grappled his sacred person, and, lIke another Montezuma or Atabalipa, he was required, in his own person, to be security for the good conduct of his uproarious subjects. Our Georgia brethren had not read, without profit, the history of Spanish conquest; but in employing some portion of the policy of their exemplars, they forbore the last and ~vorst. Prince Bosomworth was subjected to no greater evil or indignity than the one mentioned, unless we should find it in the humilia- ting transfer of so royal a person to the common lock-up of a county prison. The frantic fury of Queen Mary, at this abuse of her hus- bands liberties and person, was now beyond ~ll description, as it was beyond all restraint. She raved in all the blind rage of im- potent malice. She denounced all manner of vengeance upon the Colonycommanded all white people to depart from her ter- ritories in a given space of timecursed Oglethorpe and his fraud- ulent treaties, and with the voice and action of a demon, stamp- ing the earth beneath her feet, she swore that the whole world 152 Queen Mary. [February, should ~ooa be made to know that the land was her own, and she the Queen thereof. The Council, fearing that by communication with the Indians she would succeed in awakening in their minds a reckless fury like that which prevailed in her own; and proba- bly discovering, by this time, that while the Indians remained under her governing influence, they could hope to make but little progress in their deliberations with them, now adopted the further resolution to secure her person also. Availing themselves of a favorable opportunity, they laid hands upon her sacred Majesty, and sent her to sympathize with her husband in a corresponding limbo. This done, the matter of conference and expostulation was found to be more easy: a feast was prepared for the chiefs and leading warriors, and the fury of an Indian, like that of an Eng- lishman, being more easily pacified after you have pacified his hunger, the moment was carefully watched when to address them through the medium of interpreters, who had been carefully procured for the occasion. We need not enter into the details of this conference. It is enough to say, that the object of the Council was to disabuse the minds of the Indians on the various subjects which Bosomworth and his wife had contrived to per- vert and misrepresent. Fine speeches were mnde arid fine gifts indicated, and the feast and conference were concluded, to all ap- pearances, with a result equally desirable and happy. The chief men growled their satisfaction at the dinner and dessertadmitted that they had been deceived by Bosomworth; nud even Malatchie, upon whose head the reverend gentleman had poured thc sacred oil, renounced solemnly all relationship to Mary the Queen. When asked why he had acknowledged her as a Queen of the great Creek nation, and surrendered his power to a despicable old wo- man, he replied, in an answer which opened the eyes of the whites more fully to their own impolitic proceedings. He said that the whole nation acknowledged her as such, for that no- body could distribute the royal presents but herself, or some of her family, heretofore. The President of Council answered this argument in the most effective manner, and closed the discussion by proceeding to make, in person, a goneral distribution of pres- ents. While preparations were in progress for this distribution, the Council, believing things to be now secure, imprudently suf- feredMalatchie, whose capriciousness of character was proverbial even among the Indians, at his own request, to see Bosomworth and wife in their place of retirement. In this interview the arts of Queen Mary succeeded in undoing all that had been done. 184~2.] Queen Xary. 153 While the savages, gathered together, were actually receiving the gifts from the hands of the President, he came forth and ad- dressed them in the language of hostility and hate. With a frowning visage and furious gestures, he delivered a speech, in which he repeated all the extravagant claims of Bosomworth and wifedeclared that the lands were possessed by Mary, long before General Oglethorpe came to the countrythat she was Queen and head of the Muscogheesthat by her consent only were Englishmen first permitted to settle on themthat she was still their rightful ownerand that her words were those of three thousand warriors, who were now ready to raise the hatchet in defence of her rights. When he had concluded, he drew from his pocket a written paper, which he delivered to the President in confirmation of what he had said. This production was evidently from the hands of Bosomworth, and served to convict him more effectually of disgraceful and dangerous designs. It contained a preamble reciting a great number of names of Indians, who were styled kings of the upper and lower Creek towns, and who were most probably their chief men and leaders. But two of these were present on this occasion. The speech of Malatchie formed the contents of the paper. The President answered him by a brief recital of the first acquaintance of the whites with Mary. This scrap of history may very well be given without much condensation FRrENDs AND BROTHERS :When Mr. Oglethorpe and his people first came to Georgia, they found Mary, thea the wife of John Musgrove, liv- ing in a small hut at Yamacraw. He was a white trader, and had a li- cease from the Governor of South Carolina to trade with the Indians. Mary was then in a poor, ragged condition, neglected and despised by your people; but General Oglethorpe, finding that she could speak both of our languages, made her his interpreter between usput good clothes upon hergave her presents, and made her a person of consequence. The people of Georgia thought well of her, and she was useful to them until she married this man, Bosomworth. From that time she has proved a liar and a cheat. She is no relation of Malatchie, as we all know; but the daughter of an Indian woman of no account, by a white husband. General Oglethorpe bought no lands of her, for she had none to sell. He treated for them with the old and wise men of your nation. At that time the Muscoghees had a great deal of land, of which they could make no use. They parted with a portion of it to their white friends, and were glad when we came among them to supply their wants. After this preamble, ~vhich is very simple, clear, and strictly true, the speaker proceeded to show that the present discontents of the Indians had been infused into them by their pretended VOL. X., No. XLIV20 154w Queen Mary. [February, Queen, at the instigation of her white husbandthat their objects were purely selfishthat he, Bosomworth, had demanded from Council a third part of the royal bounty, which had been designed for the Indians only; and that his purpose was, really, to rob them of their rights rather than to maintain them ; and so forth. The effect of this conferencetime having been gained, and Queen Mary being in durancewas again pacific. Malatchie was quieted for the nonce, and the aspect of affairs once more grew bright and promising. The Indians declared their eyes to be opened, and talked in the customary figures about chains of friendship, and the union of their hearts and hands, so long as the sun shone and the rivers ran. They begged that the pipe of peace might be brought; and the pipe of peace, as they well knew, seldom came unaccompanied with the pipe of rum. This, too, made its appearance on the present occasion, and the hall of council became the hall of feasting. Liberal gifts of various com- modities, arms and ammunition excepted, were at the same time distributed among them. All seemed satisfieddiscontent slum- beredthings began to go merry as a marriage bell, when, to the consternation of President and Council, the Queen rushed head- long in among them. She, it seems, had not been denied a share of the potent beverage which her people had found it so pleasant to discussand her keeper having possibly shared it also~, she con- trived to escape from her place of honorable confinement. Com- pletely intoxicated, she now darted into the hall of Council, and flying at the President, threatened him with all the vengeance of a sovereign, for his traitorous attempt to seduce her people from their allegiance. The worthy gentleman, though utterly confound- ed by her appearance, was not displeased that she confined her onslaught to the feminine weapon only; and however annoying that of itself might be to delicate auditories, he at least was per- fectly content that she forbore the use of others which were at her finger-ends, and much more potent. He encountered her on her own ground, if not exactly in her own fashion, and replied as calmly as he could to her denuncia- tions and assertions. This course, had his audience been Euro- pean, would have shown very bad taste in President Stevens. He might have incurred the imputation of being quite as much of an old woman as the assailant. But the having the last word is a matter of no small importance in the disputes of savages; and the President was bound, for the equal safety and honor of the colony, that he should not be outdone by the Queen in eloquence. The Indians listened with due gravity to the pros and cons of 1842.J Queen Afary. I5~ the disputants, until Queen Mary, finding her English less copi- ens than that of the President, slided very naturally into the Musco- ghee, and addressed herself to the spectators. But this was not to be permitted, and her adversary threatened, if she did not keep her tongue, he would have her restored to her place of confine- ment. Such a threat was as injudicious on the part of the Presi- dent as the requisition was impracticable or~ her part. She re- peated it to Malatchie, with some gross exaggerations and harsh comments; and with so much art that the capricious savage started to his feet, seized his weapons, called upon his people to follow his example, and dragged the queen into a ring, which, at his signal, they formed instantly around her. At the same signal the tomahawk of a ferocious savage hung above the head of each astonished member of the Council. Here was a fine coup de tkdiatre. Nothing less was expected by the President than his own and the instant massacre of his com- panions; and, for the moment, the triumph of Queen Mary seemed complete. But before the signal could be given, or the sentence of slaughter spoken perhaps some little concern for their own escape leading to unwonted moderation on the part of the Indians the same Captain Jones, whose intrepidity had made itself conspicuous to the savages on their first coming, darted into the council chamber, at the head of a select body of his men. With a fearless grasp, which the savages did not dare to remove, he seized upon the factious woman, and transmitted her once more to a secure apartment, where, free from interruption, she could meditate upon the instability of earthly empires, and the strange uncertainty of all sublunary affairs. The Indians Were awed into submission. They stood confronted by strong men, arms in their hands, and anger in their eyes. The tragic part of the drama was concluded by this proceeding. Their fury subsided into sullen disaffection, which expressed it- self in looks rather than words. From their hostility, however, there was nothing present to apprehend. Still it was necessary to soothe and conciliate them, and this labor, so often defeated, was to be begun anew. But the task was now not so hard as before. The parson and his wife no longer accessible, the Indians sober- ed by their fears, and, possibly, growing a little wiser from the obvious imbecility of their late counsellors, the business of pacification was comparatively easy. The President and Coun- cil found an auxiliar in the prosecution of this task, in the person of an excellent and sensible young warrior, named Ellick, who, less conspicuous, or more easily persuaded than the rest, joined 156 Queen Mary. [February, his eloquence to that of the President, in bringing about the terms of amnesty. He disclosed to the Council sundry of the intrigues of Bosomworth, which had not been suspected; and it is more than probable that it was by his advice that the two ringleaders were kept without communication with his people. Hopeless now of their former objects, and easily persuaded to desert the cause in which they had been thus baffled, they stole off for the for- est in separate bodies under their several leaders. Malatchie lingered to the last; but finding himself unable to procure any farther intervie~vs with the Queen his putative sister he too followed their example; and the people of Savannah, tired out with the duties of an unremitting watch for several days and nights, were thus happily relieved from the terrors of an insurrec- tion, which was no less threatening than strange and unexpected. Had Bosomworth been endowed with as much courage as art, his success must have been complete; and the affair, whatever might have been the future fortunes of the traitor, must have ended in the present destruction of the infant colony. Had he advanced suddenly upon Savannah, without the silly proceeding by herald, which prepared the citizens for his approach seized the magazine, and provided the savages with ammunition their numbers were quite sufficient to have overpowered the militia, when a general massacre must have ensued. The sequel of the affair may be given in few words. It does not appear that the colonists meditated any punishment of Bo- somworth or his Queen. They were suffered to go to England, where they urged their claim legally, under the grant of lands from Malatchie and the other chiefs. This was litigated in the courts of that country for several years. The final decision was partly favorable to their claim. The court of St. James granted them the Island of St. Catharine, and gave instructions, at the same time, for the sale of the residue of the lands in question, the proceeds of which were applied to the extinction of their titles. Bosomworth returned and took possession of his island, where he resided, sole if not sovereign, for some years, in company with his Queen. She, in process of time, shared the fate of all mortal queens. Her husband, whose taste in wives seems to have been peculiar, afterward married his chambermaid. The three lie buried in the same graveyard of St. Catharine, and they are sup- posed to sleep together without commotion. 1842.] 157 NIAGARA. GREAT Fall, all hail! Canst thou unveil The secrets of thy birth; Unfold the page Of each dark age, And tell the tales of earth ? When I was bora The stars of morn Together sangtWaS day! The sun unrolled His garb of gold, And took his upward way. He mounted high The eastern sky, And then looked down on earth; And she was there, Young, fresh, and fair, And I, and all, had birth. The word of power Was spoke that hour! Dark chaos felt the shock; Forth sprung the light, Burst day from night, Up leaped the living rock. Back fell the sea, The land was free, And mountain, hill, and plaia Stood forth to view, In emerald hue, Thea sang the stars amain. And IohThou! Who taught me how To hymn thy wondrous love, Deign to be near And calm my fear, 0 Holy One above! I caught the word Creation heard, And by His power arose: His goodness gave The swelling wave That ever onward flows. By His command The rainbow spanned My forehead; and his will Evoked the cloud My foot to shroud, And taught my voice to thrill. But who is he That questions me From whom hast thou thy form, Thy life, thy soul? My waters roll [storm, Through day, night, sunshine, In grateful praise To Him,I raise A never ceasing song To that dread One, To whom stars, sun, Earth, ocean, all belong. Thou too adore Him evermore Who gave thee all thou hast! Let time gone by In darkness die, Deep buried in the past. And be thy mind To Him inclined [thee, Who made earth, heaven, and Thy every thought To worship wrought, This lesson learn of me.

1842.] 157 NIAGARA. GREAT Fall, all hail! Canst thou unveil The secrets of thy birth; Unfold the page Of each dark age, And tell the tales of earth ? When I was bora The stars of morn Together sangtWaS day! The sun unrolled His garb of gold, And took his upward way. He mounted high The eastern sky, And then looked down on earth; And she was there, Young, fresh, and fair, And I, and all, had birth. The word of power Was spoke that hour! Dark chaos felt the shock; Forth sprung the light, Burst day from night, Up leaped the living rock. Back fell the sea, The land was free, And mountain, hill, and plaia Stood forth to view, In emerald hue, Thea sang the stars amain. And IohThou! Who taught me how To hymn thy wondrous love, Deign to be near And calm my fear, 0 Holy One above! I caught the word Creation heard, And by His power arose: His goodness gave The swelling wave That ever onward flows. By His command The rainbow spanned My forehead; and his will Evoked the cloud My foot to shroud, And taught my voice to thrill. But who is he That questions me From whom hast thou thy form, Thy life, thy soul? My waters roll [storm, Through day, night, sunshine, In grateful praise To Him,I raise A never ceasing song To that dread One, To whom stars, sun, Earth, ocean, all belong. Thou too adore Him evermore Who gave thee all thou hast! Let time gone by In darkness die, Deep buried in the past. And be thy mind To Him inclined [thee, Who made earth, heaven, and Thy every thought To worship wrought, This lesson learn of me. 158 [February, POLITICAL PORTRAITS WITH PEN AND PENCIL. NO. XXVIII. GEORGE M. DALLAS. (With afine Engraving on Steel.) MR. DALLAS was born in the city of Philadelphia, on the 10th of July, 1792. He is the elder son of Alexander James Dallas, one of the most accomplished advocatcs and distinguished statesmen that have adorned the legal profession of the United States, or sus- tained, in important posts of public trust, the principles and policy of the republican party. He received the rudiments of his education at a school in Germantown, and afterward at the Friends Academy in Philadelphia. At the age of fourteen he was entered in Prince- ton College, and continued there until 1810, when he was graduated with the highest honors of his class. He delivered their valedic- tory address, which is still remembered and adverted to in the college history as a striking example of feeling, eloquence, and taste. Indeed, as a public speaker, he gave early promise of that excellence which has since been displayed in many of the promi- nent situations to which his talents have elevated him; and a published oration, delivered when he was but seventeen years of age, and preserved in the Port Folio, strikingly attests the matu- rity of his powers. On leaving college, Mr. Dallas commenced the law, in the of- fice of his father at Philadelphia; and although, in the intervals of that severe study, the more attractive forms of literature and poetry were not unfrequently cultivated, he yet persevered with unceasing application in making himself a thorough master of the great principles of the profession of which he has since been so distinguished a member. He was admitted to the bar in 1813. Soon after the declaration of war with England, he had enrolled himself in a volunteer corps; and when, in the year 1813, Mr. Gal- latin was appointed by President Madison a member of the com- mission that repaired to St. Petersburg for the purpose of nego- tiating a peace, under the mediation of the Emperor Alexander, he accompanied that minister as his private and confidential sec- retary. During a residence of more than a year in Europe, Mr. Dallas had an opportunity of visiting Russia, France, England, Holland, and the Netherlands. While in England, a family con- nexion with Lord Byron brought him into frequent association with that great poet, who then, at twenty-five years of age, was receiving in London the general and enthusiastic admiration which the appearance of his two beautiful poems, the Giaour and

158 [February, POLITICAL PORTRAITS WITH PEN AND PENCIL. NO. XXVIII. GEORGE M. DALLAS. (With afine Engraving on Steel.) MR. DALLAS was born in the city of Philadelphia, on the 10th of July, 1792. He is the elder son of Alexander James Dallas, one of the most accomplished advocatcs and distinguished statesmen that have adorned the legal profession of the United States, or sus- tained, in important posts of public trust, the principles and policy of the republican party. He received the rudiments of his education at a school in Germantown, and afterward at the Friends Academy in Philadelphia. At the age of fourteen he was entered in Prince- ton College, and continued there until 1810, when he was graduated with the highest honors of his class. He delivered their valedic- tory address, which is still remembered and adverted to in the college history as a striking example of feeling, eloquence, and taste. Indeed, as a public speaker, he gave early promise of that excellence which has since been displayed in many of the promi- nent situations to which his talents have elevated him; and a published oration, delivered when he was but seventeen years of age, and preserved in the Port Folio, strikingly attests the matu- rity of his powers. On leaving college, Mr. Dallas commenced the law, in the of- fice of his father at Philadelphia; and although, in the intervals of that severe study, the more attractive forms of literature and poetry were not unfrequently cultivated, he yet persevered with unceasing application in making himself a thorough master of the great principles of the profession of which he has since been so distinguished a member. He was admitted to the bar in 1813. Soon after the declaration of war with England, he had enrolled himself in a volunteer corps; and when, in the year 1813, Mr. Gal- latin was appointed by President Madison a member of the com- mission that repaired to St. Petersburg for the purpose of nego- tiating a peace, under the mediation of the Emperor Alexander, he accompanied that minister as his private and confidential sec- retary. During a residence of more than a year in Europe, Mr. Dallas had an opportunity of visiting Russia, France, England, Holland, and the Netherlands. While in England, a family con- nexion with Lord Byron brought him into frequent association with that great poet, who then, at twenty-five years of age, was receiving in London the general and enthusiastic admiration which the appearance of his two beautiful poems, the Giaour and 1842.] George dli. Dallas. 159 the Bride of Abydos, could not fail to call forth. It was in con- sequence of a remark of Mr. Dallas, upon the popularity in Ameri- ca of Childe Harold and some of his previous poems, that he de- clared in his journal that these were the first tidings that ever sounded to his ears like fame; and that popularity in a far and rising country, caused feelings very different from the ephemeral praises of the crowd of fashion then buzzing around him. Through another relative, the humane and eloquent jurist who was then the Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, it was Mr. Dallass good fortune to be thrown, not unfrequently, into the so- ciety of some of those eminent lawyers who have, by the brillian- cy of their genius, and devotion to philanthropy and philosophy, made their profession yet more distinguished than it was in pre- vious days. Romilly, whose beneficence flowed in a current so transparent, copious, and strong; Brougham, with his far-reaching, inquisitive, and undaunted utilitarianism; Mackintosh, who could wisely and kindly apply to the heated actions, and in the busy forums of men, the rules of conduct which he had deduced in the patient reflections of a guileless lifethese were men whose so- ciety, even transiently enjoyed by one much younger, could not~ fail to leave impressions equally permanent, useful, and gratify- ing. In August, 1814~, Mr. Dallas returned to the United States, bearing the despatches from the American commissioners then holding their sessions at Ghent, which announced the prospects little favorable to a speedy peace that are known to have resulted from the earlier conferences with the British envoys. On his arrival, he found his father transferred from the bar of Philadel- phia to the head of the Treasury Departmenta post requiring, in the complicated state of the finances, and amid the pressing exigencies of the war, all the resources of judgment and talent for which he had been already distinguished, but which he was now destined to display through a brilliant administration of two years, under circumstances and in a manner that secured for him a yet larger share of the applause and confidence of the people of the United States. His son remained with him for a time at Washington, to assist him in the arduous duties of the treasury, and then returned to Philadelphia, to resume, or rather to com mence, the actual practice of his professionan event that was almost immediately followed by his marriage with an accom- plished lady, the daughter of Mr. Nicklin, an eminent merchant of that city. The death of his father, which occurred shortly after he re 160 Political Portraits. Yo. XXVIII. [February, tired from the administration of the Treasury Department, took from Mr. Dallas, in the outset of his career at the bar, not merely the benefit of professional assistance seldom equalled, but those kind and endearing associations which could have grown up only in intercourse with one whose genius was not more brilliant than his affections were warm. Self-dependant, however, he applied himself with the more ardor to the practice of the law, and being appointed in 1817 the deputy of the Attorney General in the city of Philadelphia, he soon gave evidence of that skill in conducting criminal cases which has since always distinguished his occasional attention to that branch of his profession. When, in the following year, charges were introduced into the assembly of Pennsylvania against Governor Findlay, which resulted in a legislative investigation, Mr. Dallas acted as his counsel, and the firmness and ability which he displayed throughout the whole proceeding, placed him at once, by general consent, in a rank in his profession that has seldom been attained by so young an advocate. It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the exigencies of a legal life could not withdraw Mr. Dallas from the deepest inter- est in political topics. Deriving, from the conduct and counsels of his father, and from the associations of his earliest youth, as well as those of later years, a strong attachment to the principles and views of the Democratic party, he had never failed to co-ope- rate with his fellow-citizens in the measures which were calcu- lated to advance them. The more tranquil administration of Mr. Monroe, succeeding to the fierce political conflicts which exist- ed during the war with England, did not present many questions that rallied party controversies on national affairs; but the election of Governor Beisler in Pennsylvania had brought the Federal party into power in that State, after a long period of Democratic ascend- ency, and no one embarked with more zeal than Mr. Dallas in endeavoring to effect the restora