THE UNITED STATES REVIEW. JANUARY, 1856. THE UNIONTHE DANGERS WHICH BESET IT. NUMBER ONE. WHEN storms and tempests howl around and beat upon our Union and our Republican institutions with a fierceness that threatens their entire prostration and ruin, no patriot should repress the expression of his fears, but should pour them out into the public ear, freely and without reserve. No man who can reason from cause to effect, can so far mis- understand the signs of the times, as not to see, that the intense sectional excitement, increasing in bitterness and inveteracy every day, which Abolitionism, aided by Northern Know-Nothingism, has produced, must, unless extinguished by the miraculous interposition of divine providenco, end in the disruption of this mighty Union, and the consequent des- truction of our free institutions and the liberty of our people. It is impossible, too, that this {Tnion can be dissolved, without being followed by the erection, first of several petty Republics then Oligarchies, and~.. then, Kingdoms. The fate of the Grecian Republics and others, warn us of the sad but inevi- table consequence of such an event, At one time, such was our confidence in the virtue and intelligence of the peojple, and the strength of the ties that bound the Union together, 1 2 The Uniion the Dctm~ers which beset it. [Jan., that we believed the most terrific political or fanatical tornado could not prostrate them; the most awful earthquake could not shake, or the severest thunderbolt shiver this Union to pieces. That, however, which Washington foresaw, and against which he warned his countrymen, with the most paternal and anxious solicitudesectional partyismis upon us, in all its most dangerous and fearful aspects, and the fears of our great statesman and patriot, about to be realized. In this excited, dangerous, and threatening condition of pub- lic affairs, which may result in calamities to ~s and to pos- terity, which no pen is adequate to describe, no man should be idle or indifferent, but, without regard to party affinities or party associations, should do all that in him lies to avert them, if upon the true principles of the Constitution, the rights of the States and the equality of citizenship, it can be done. No man, though his country or his party may have wronged him, can stand aloof in this great crisisthis trying hour of the Union, of free institutions, of liberty and of civil and religious freedom. He should lay all his wrongs, all of his resentments~ upon the altar of his countrys good, and employ all his energy and influence to avert the threatened storm. The his- toric pen has recorded for our imitation, many examples of such a noble self-sacrifice, made by patriots and statesmen, whose names illume the pages which record them. Every reflecting and intelligent mind ought to know, every one must see, that in a government extending over an area of country so expansive as ours, with a climate so variant, and interests so diversified, there must be some mutual compro- mises of interest and conciliations of feeling in order to promote the success of the government, and secure other, greater and more important interests. Upon this principle and with such feelings, the Constitution was framed, was rati- fied by the States and approved by the people; and upon this principle and with these feelings, must the government be con- ductedto attain the great end of its establishment. Sectional hostility, sectional hatred, sectional jealousy and sectional par- tyism, are no friends~ to the- Union, the Constitution, free insti- tutions, liberty or prosperity. Beneath their blows, dealt by artful, ambitious, and unscrupulous hands, they must all fall and be buried in a common ruin, the monuments of mad ambi- tion and reckless fanaticism and folly. When we contemplate the structure of our Federal and State Governments, and see in them, their adaptation to secure the power, the wealth, and the prosperity of the Union and 18o6j The Unionthe Danger8 which beset it. 3 the people, so far as national subjects are concerned; the fit- ness of the State Governments for every thing of domestic or local concern; the necessarily, sublimely, high destiny of power, of wealth, of prosperity, of influence and of freedom, which attend our onward march, if the Union and our free institutions be preserved, we can not but execrate the parricidal and traitorous hand that would strike a fatala suicidal blow against such a system. Many of our wisest, most sagacious and most patriotic statesmen, have always feared the slavery question, as the most dangerous and trying to the Union, which traitors and fanatics could agitate; and have tried by every means which the threatening aspect of the case seemed to require, to repress it within safe bounds. And, perhaps, their efforts would have been successful, had not two other elements, each of which is equally, if not more exciting and dangerous than slavery, entered into the controversy, to increase its heat. We ref~r to the proposed disfranchisement and proscription of Roman Catholics and adopted citizens, all blowing from the same thrice-heated furnace. In the Northern States, the Abolition- ists, the Free Soilers and the new order of Know-Nothings, composed, mainly, of Whigs, all working harmoniously toge- ther, are using their strongest and most unremitted exertions to make the question sectional, by proclaiming that slavery is sectional. To meet this tyrannous and dangerous sectional antagonism of the North, the South is driven to present an unbroken front; maintaining, however, a cordial fellowship and alliance with those of the North, who, in defiance of sec- tional considerations and sectional appeals, peril their political fortunes upon the Constitution, and the Union as the Con- stitution made it, and the rights of the South as the Constitu- tion guarantees them. With such a patriotic, intrepid, and devoted band, the South should determine to stand or fall. This controversy having become, and daily becoming more and ~more excited, bitter, and sectional, if becomes a subject of interesting inquiry, why is it so, and where the fault lies. That slavery; religious bigotry and the disfran- chisement of naturalized citizens, are the pretended prominent causes, we can all see; but that ambition, power, and a deter- mined purpose of tyrannical domination by the NQrth,*, over * J~ C. is too sweeping, in using the term NORTH. The assumption that theNorth, as such, is filled with a crusading spirit against the South or its institutions, is false in fact and pernicious in theory; an assumption which does more to endanger the relationships of the two portions of the Union, and promote rear sectionalism of 4 The Un.~ion.- the Da~gers which 1e~et it. [Jan., the rights and interests of the South, to the extent of entire ~ subserviency, is the hidden cause, we have no doubt, as the progress of the controversy will certainly develop. We have no purpose of discussing the slavery question, either ir~its moral or religions aspect. It is here; the iRevolu- tion and the Constitution found it here, and the Federal Government, by the Constitution, has no power to establish or abolish it, or to declare where it shall, or shall not, exist. All its power, upon the subject, is to provide for the reclam- ation of fugitive slaves. When we look to the Constitution as our instrument of imparted powers. and bear in mind, that slavery existed at the very time of its adoption, and find, that no such power is imparted to the Federal Government,it should be decisive, that no such power exists, and that none such was intended to be imparted. If, then, no such power is imparted to the Federal Government, the establishment, abolition, or prohibition of slavery, either in the States or terri- tories, would be a usurpation of power and a palpable violation of the Constitution. The South has never sought, and does not desire the establishment of slavery by law, anywhere. It has only sought its protection where it exists, or shall be established by the States. If we were to enter into a history of the introduction and progress of slavery in this country, we might show some facts reflecting no credit upon the North, taking their present pro- fessed opinions about slavery as the standard of judgment. We might show that their own citizens were the captors, the trans. porters, and dealers in this property. We might show, that at the formation of the Constitution, the five New-England States, those that are now boiling over with rage about slavery, aided by South-Carolina and Georgia, kept open the slave-trade twenty years, while Virginia sought to close it; and that of this twenty years, the Northern ship-owners, ands lave.traders made the most profitable use. From the very formation of the government, to the present hour, there has been a large party in the North, now increased, we fear, to .a majority, opposed to the progress of the South. They seem to have determined to reduce the South to a state feeling and action, than all the mad ranting of the party called Abolitionists. There is an Aboitionpart~, in the North, as there is a Secession party in the South, and the n~imber of foolish and. wicked men in the United States is pretty equally divi~ed between them. To eall the whole North Abolition is about as fair as to call tae whole South Secession; an exceedingly left-handed complinient to the .eenso or virtue of either.FawroR DEMocRATIc REVIEW. 1856.] The Union the Danger8 which beset tt. 5 of provincialism and vassalageall under the pretext of pre- venting the extension of slavery as they call it. This purpose was first strongly exhibited, by their opposition to the acquisi- tion of Louisiana in 1808, of Florida in 1819, and later to the annexation of Texas, and the acquisition of California; and this is the same party, with new adherents, that is no~r harass- ing and oppressing the South, and hunting, down Catholics and naturalized citizens. The first act of positive aggression by the North on the South, was in 1820, in what is called the Missouri coinpro- mise This so-called compromise was in fact a prohibition tQ = every slaveholding State, to carry any of their slaves into any of the territories of the United States north of the State of Missouri, and of the line of 36~ 30, commencing on her west- ern boundary, annexed as a condition of the admission of Mis- souri into the Union, as a State, although, under the Constitu- tion, Missouri had a right to admission, without any such re- strictiona restriction, not upon Missouri, but the citizens of the United States, without discrimination, and upon a territory which was thereafter to be divided into States, each of which would have a right, under the Constitution, to establish slavery, and to demand admission into theUnion, upon terms of perfect equality with the original States. Which could not be, if the question of slavery was closed upon her. This so-called com- promise, then, was void, as being unauthorized by the Consti- tution, and violative of the constitutional rights of those- who were not parties to it. It was an act of unauthorized power and unmitigated tyranny, and is not entitled to be respected or treated as a compromise. Let no man talk of statesmanship, of patriotism, or of good faith who talks about the faith of a mere legislative enactment, founded on a palpable breach of the Con- stitution. By the so-called compromise acts of 185051, and the Kansas-Nebraska bill, this restrictionnot upon Missouri, but upon the citizens of the slaveholding States and the un- born Stateswas removed, and the constitutional rights of the citizens of all the States and of the territories, placed upon that exact footing of equality which the Constitution originally placed them upon. The new ~States formed out of the terri- tories, will have each, for itselg exclusive jurisdiction, to deter- mine this question of slaVery. These are the acts stigmatized, by those very faithful and patriotic Abolitionists, Frec-Soilers, and Know-Nothings of the North, as faithless and perfidious! a faithlessness and perfidiousness that stands upon the Constitution, and accords to every State and every citizen an 6 The Union the Dangers which beset it. [Jan., equality of right and of privilege, secured to them by that in strument. It would be well to glance for a moment at the history of this slavery question in Congress, and see what part these Northern law-abiding, good-faith men acted, commencing with the Miss6uri restriction itself. Upon that question, a majority of the Northern representatives voted against the admission of Missouri, notwithstanding the territorial restriction. Upon the admission of Florida, Arkansas, and the annexation of Texas, the majority of the Northern delegation, princi}~ally Federalist~ and Abolitionists, voted against it, on account of the pro-slavery clauses, or non-prohibition of slavery in their constitutions. While the treaty with Mexico was negotiating, and the acqui- sition of California and New-Mexico were in anticipation, the celebrated, so-called, Wilmot proviso was introduced in these words: Whereas, in the settlement of the difficulties pending be- tween this country and Mexico, territory may be acquired, in which slavery does not exist. And, whereas, Congress, in the organization of a territorial government, at an early period of our political history, ~stablished a principle worthy of imitation in all future time, forbidding the existence of slavery in free territory; therefore, Resolved, That in any territory, which may be acquired from Mexico, over which shall be established territorial government, slavery, or involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crimes, whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, should be for ever prohibited; and that in any act or resolution, establishing such government, a fundamental provision should be inserted to that effect. This resolution, which was a pal- pable violation of the Missouri compromise, the territory to be acquired lying on both sides the compromise line, was sustained, on a motion to lay it on the table, by the whole Northern vote, except 21 Democrats. Again; while the United States Senate were in secret session on the treaty with Mexico, it was proposed by a Northern mem- ber to annex to the treaty, the following article: Provided, That there shall be neither slavery nor involun- tary servitude, in the territories hereby ceded, otherwise than in punishment of crimes, whereof the party shall have been duly convicted For attaching this article to the treaty, there were 15 Northern votesan article which palpably violated the Missouri compromise line, if that was a final compromise line; if not, it palpably violated the Constitution. 1856.] The Union the Dctnqere which 1ie8et it. PT In 1852, Mr. Jackson, of Georgia, in order to test Northern sincerity, as to the finality of the compromise measures of 185051, introduced this resolution: Resolved That we recognize the boundary of the compro- mise of the Constitution, and believe it to be the intention of the people generally, as we hereby declare it to be ours indivi- dually, to abide such compromise, and to sustain the laws ne- cessary to carry them outthe provision for fugitive slaves and the act of the last Congress for that purpose included; and that we deprecate all further agitation of questions growing out of that provision of the late Congress, known as the compro- mise, and of the questions generally connected with the institu- tion of slavery, as unnecessary, useless, and dangerous. Tn this resolution, a fair test of the finality of this compro- mise, which Northern men so falsely and so unblushingly charge the South with having violated, was presented, and what was the result? Sixty-four Northern men declared by their votes that they did not regard it as final, and that they would not abide by it. To all this, may be added the facts, that time after time, from the Missouri compromise to this time, petitions after petitions, legislative resolves after legislative resolves, have been poured into Congress, from the North, seeking a course of legislation utterly at war with every feature of these compromises, and many of their representatives have, over and over, and over again, declared, that these compromises were not binding, and that the North would not abide them. What, then, had the South to do but to take position upon the Consti- tution and there abide? This is what she did do, by the repeal of the Missouri restriction and the Kansas and Nebraska bills. To prove still more conclusively, how little these Northern crusaders against the rights of the South regarded their obliga- tion to abide these compromises, FORTY-FIvE of them voted to repeal the fugitive slave bill in 1852. These facts acquit the South of the charge of faithlessness, and perfidiousness, and fasten them on the Norththat is, that portion of the North, which have determined, and are pursuing with unfalter- ing purpose, the ruin of the South, and those who have made this charge a pretext for rallying under the piratical flag. What do we now see? After the compromise of 185051, which every patriot hoped and believed would stay this dis- quieting, this threatening, this dangerous slavery agitation, and restore that harmony and fraternity of feeling between the North and the South, which their mutual interests and their political relations required. After the Constitution had been 8 The Union the Dangers which beset it. [Jan., restored by the repeal of the Missouri restriction and the Kan- sas-Nebraska bills; after California had been admitted, in faith of the compromise, as a free State; and after the measures of the Democratic party had been approved and indorsed by the people, and the Abolition and Free-Soilers were in rapid retreat; a new party springs up, and enters the field, in a strain of piety, of patriotism, disinterestedness, abhorrence of party dis- tinctions, and love of country, scarcely ever equalled, and never surpassed. But mirabile dictu Ia party which, when you come to poll it, is composed mainly of the old Whig party, Free-Soilers, Abolitionists, and a few Democrats, who, deluded by its extravagant professions, or seduced by the prospect of a more speedy participation in the distribution of the spoils, abandoned their own party. This party, however antagonistical some of its professions maybe~theAbolitionists,isnowmakingcommoncausewith them, in a desperate effort to overthrow the Democratic party, which has planted itself upon the Constitution, determined to maintain it to the last extremity against its combined assailants, or be buried in its ruins~ To give effect to these assaults, break down the Democratic party, and secure the spoils of office, two engines of even force, have been added to the Slavery question; the proscription and persecution of Roman Catholics, and the dis- franchisement of adopted citizens. Appealing, by the first, to the bigotry of all Protestant sects, and by the last, to the selfish- ness of nativism, every bad passion has been stimulated into action; and now anti-slavery fanaticism, religions, bigotry, and native selfishness, are, in united columns, assaulting, with exterminating purpose, the new ranks of the Democracyan assault, which, if successful, will either prostrate and ruin the South, by reducing her to a state of provincialism and entire subjection to the North, or break the Union into fragments. When we look at the Constitution of the United States, we search in vain for any power, either to establish, abolish, pro- hibit, or intermeddle with Slavery, as a system, in the States or in the territories, in any form or shape. The attempt to de- rive authority to prohibit Slavery in the territories, from the power to dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations, respecting the territory or other property belonging to the United States, has been so often made and rejected, that it would be a waste of time to discuss it. Such an authority can not be deduced from it. If it could, it would be in direct con- flict with other powers of the Constitution. If Congress has the power to prohibit Slavery in the Territories, it has the 1856.] The Unr~on the Dangers which beset it. 9 right to establish or abolish it. This deduction from the power to regulate, is just as strong as the deduction of the power to prohibit, and no stronger. This Slavery question being so prominent a cause of the politi- cal agitation and sectional strife of the day, it may not be amiss for the South, the interests of which are so dangerously in- volved, to ascertain the true position of parties upon this ques- tion, in order that they may ascertain, in the hands of which, their rights and interests are best secured. That the Abolition party is boldly, inveterately, and uncompromisingly against the rights of the South, we all know. That the so-called American party, or that part of it which recently assembled at Philadelphia, and published, what they call, a national plat- form, affects to propose to abide the laws, as they now stand, and quiet agitation is also known; but this platform expressly pretermits the expression of any opinion upon the constitutional power of Congress to prohibit Slavery in the Territories, which is a virtual surrender of the whole question; for they had as well attempt to blow down the fortresses of Sebastopol with a rams horn, as to calm agitation, by this mere expression of opinion. But suppose there was virtue enough in this 12th article of this milk-and-water platform, to do any good, if it were national; the inquiry necessarily recursis it national? Is it not known that this article was adopted by the votes of the slaveholding States and New-York, twelve, of the free States voting against it ?* Is it not known, that this party, in every Northern State, has repudiated and scornfully rejected this article, and in its stead, adopted resolutions, breathing the present hostility against the rights of the South, at every point? There are, perhaps, fragments of this 12th-Article party in the city of New- York, in Pennsylvania, and in Ohio, but these fragments are very small. Is it not true, then, that this party is sectional, entertain- ing conflicting views with the Southern section, which timidly declines to stand upon the Constitution, the only secure position.~? We heretofore charged that the Northern Whigs were against the South, upon the vital questions involved in the Slavery subject. They denied it; but the truth of the charges is now manifest, and the Whig party is dissolved. These Americans, as they call themselves, deny that the Northern Americans are hostile to the rights of the Southwhat are the proofs? They, by their own strength, or the aid of the Free-Soilers and Aboli * It is generally not known that twelve of the free States abandoned the Con- vention on aeceunt of its adoption. 10 The Union the Dangers which beset it. [Jan., tionists, have filled every gubernatorial chair with an ultra- Abolitionist or a Free-Soiler, they have sent 113 out of 126 mem- bers to the House of Representatives, rabid Abolitionists and Free-Soilers. Their every legislature has had a majority of the same cast: they have driven from the Senate of the Th S. five pure, able, accomplished, and patriotic Democrats, whose sin was that they sustained the Kansas-Nebraska bills, the Re- peal of the Missouri Restriction, and the Fugitive-Slave bill; and put in their place, the most rabid Abolitionists, and in no instance did they elect or aid in electing a single man, Demo- crat or Whig, who voted for, or whose opinions were favorable to the Kansas-Nebraska bills and the Repeal of the Missouri Restrictionbut, hunted them down with all the ferocity and vindictiveness of the insatiate Abolitionists. Between the Americans, North and South, there seems to be great har- mony of purpose as to one thing, and that is the overthrow of the Democratic party, but no harmony of principle or action upon the Slavery question. The Democratic party is the only national party now in ex- istence, the only party that has maintained, and is main- taining, in good faith, the true principles of the Constitution, upon the Slavery question. it was the Democratic party, mainly, that resisted the Missouri Restrictionthat annexed Texasacquired New Mexico and Californiapassed the Fugi- tive-Slave lawpassed the Utah, Kansas, and Nebraska bills, and repealed the Missouri Restriction; and has now staked its existence upon the true constitutional issue, that the Federal Government has no power to interfere with the subject of Slav- ery in the States or in the Territories, in any form except to provide for the reclamation of fugitive slaves. Non interven- tion is the motto inscribed upon its flag. This is the whole Southern ground, and why should any Southern man unite with this coalition of Abolitionists, Free-Soilers, Americans~~ and spoilsmen, in overthrowing the Democratic party, when that party is engaged in a most desperate conflict, in defense of the dearest rights and most important interest~ of the South? The Democratic party, though in a minority in the recent elec- tions in the free States, in every State, except Massachusetts, Vermont, and New-York, presented a most formidable array one sufficient to justify the confident expectation that in the next elections, they will triumph and preserve the Constitution and the Union, if the South be true to itself. It is true that many who call themselves Democrats were Abolitionists and Free-Soilers, but they have abandoned the ranks of the Demo- 1856.] The 1iJnion~ the Dangers which beset it. :1.1 cratic party and are now acting with this new coiilition. There is now a national Democratic p arty in the North, agreeing with the Democratic party in the South, in which there can not be found an Abolitionist, a Free-Soiler, a Whig, a Federalist, or a Know-Nothing. Of all these it is thoroughly purged, and pre- sents that sublimest of all spectacles in party warfarea party foregoing all personal considerations and sacrificing itself to principle. But these men, our very devoutly religious, virtu- ously country-loving, and overfiowingly patriotic Americans of the South can not sustain. But they can act in concert with those, who domineer over, and own their purpose to invade and trample under foot the rights of the South. We would most respectfully and fraternally inquire if this Southern American party is not taking counsel of their former prejudices against the Democratic party, and not of their calm, dispassion- ate, and patriotic convictions of truth. Do they not know, can they be so blind as not to see that, with the aid of this Northern Democratic party, we may serve the Constitution and the Union, and without it, both are lost? Do they not know, that the South, of itself, is not strong enough? Why, then, this suicidal policy? But the Northern branch of this newly-organized American party was not content to risk their success upon the issues, which Abolitionism and Free-Soilism had made with the Demo- cracy; they contributed the two new and formidable elements above referred to, religious bigotry and selfish nativism. Thereby appealing to, and exciting afresh, the dying prejudices of Protestant Christians against Roman Catholics, and native- born against adopted citizens. We will briefly advert to these elements. That religion is a spiritual principle, not of man, but of God, we suppose no one will deny. That it is God, and not man, or an association of men, that can impart a spirit of religion to the human soul, is, we suppose, equally true. It must be con- ceded, then, that every man is responsible individually to God, and not to government, or his fellow-men, for the truth or falsehood of his religious opinions. Government can ito.t as- sume the responsibility of an individuals false opinions about religion, nor can the individual throw the responsibility of his error upon the government. Government, then ought not to undertake to make, or unmake, religious creeds, for any man, and proscribe him for non-conformity. This whole matter of religion, is a matter entirely between God and man, and is a matter which God himself keeps under his own supervision 12 The Union the Dangers which leset it. [Jan., and control. Experience has proved beyond all doubt, that truth when unfettered, is the most successful antagonist to er- ror, and by it many a system of error in religion, morality, politics, and philosophy has been exposed and corrected. Religion being true, created by the Spirit of the Almighty, it is amply sufficient to overcome any erroneous creeds, or false systems, particularly in a country where there is freedom of speech, and of the press. Every connection between the Gov- ernment and the Church, in any age, has never failed to cor- rupt the Church and strengthen the power of the Government. Every attempt to co~3rce religious opinion, has resulted in re- tarding the progress of Christianity. But why need I discuss this question? The memorable and immortal Virginia statute of religious freedom, has presented the arguments of this question with a power and energy, an eloquence, a conclusiveness, which I can not pretend to imitate. The sages and patriots of the revolu- tion, who formed the Constitution, in full view of all the corrup- tion which the connection between Church and State in the old world, and of all the tyrannical proscriptions, devastating wars, bloody persecutions, and cruel tortures to which it had and appreciating in all its force,the great and~ rise, of religious freedom sense, cut it off comprehensive ,in its most incomparable value from all connection with the government, by the following provision: But no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust, under the United States. The proscription, which the American party proposes to effect, by combination against Catholics native-born as well as foreign, is, in letter and in spirit, at war with this provision, and results in thisthat the Constitution ought to be amended and this provision struck out, or this at- tempt, by secret combination and profane oaths to subvert it, frowned down. Two of the States preceding, and almost every other State in the Union, after the revolution, approving this fundamental principle of religious freedom, adopted and in- corporated it into their constitutions. From that time to this, pure and undefiled religion h~s spread with unparalleled ra- pidity; numerous sects have sprung up, rivalling and emulat- ing each other, so as to foreclose all chances of supremacy in either. Bible, tract, and missionary societies, have multiplied to an almost indefinite extent, and although Catholicism has increased, Protestantism has increased in a five-fold ratio, until now the Protestant membership exceeds the Catholic 6 to 1. The ministry, 20 to 1. The churches, 30 to 1; and the popula- tion attending public worship, 14 to 1. Thus demonstrating 1856.] 71w Union the Danger8 which leset it. 13 most conclusively, that with the Bible, the press, the pulpit, and the freedom of speech, Protestantism has nothing to fear from Catholicism. Even in monarchical Europe, somewhat liberalized, Catholicism is waning, and Protestantism is rising. Here, where the conscience is free, and religion unconnected with the civil Government, Protestantism is triumphant, and Catholicism itself becoming more spiritual. Judging of the future by the past, ther~ is no reality in these pretended fears of the Pope. To justify this movement of the American party, it will not do to hunt up Roman Catholicism, from the musty records of the seventeenth century, for the history of its corruptions and enormities, while in its meretricious connection with the des- potic Governments of Europefor in that search, the eye could not fail to fall on the like corruptions and enormities of Protestantism, from the same cause. There is nothing in the political history of either Catholicism or Protestantism, while in the pursuit of temporal power, attractive to the eye of an American freeman, or a pure religiomst. But this American policy is very artful, it will not take its ground against religions freedom boldly; on the contrary, re- ligious freedom and religious toleration, is the theme of their song; the temporal power of the Pope, is what they are so much alarmed abouta temporal power, which, as the Irish- man would say, has been advancing backwards rapidly for fifty years. Well, now, what is the temporal power of the Pope, which is so frightful and alarming to these, our watchful and vigilant political nurslings? This frightful Pope, whose power every petty prince in Europe laughs to scoj~n, is temporal prince of 17,000 square miles in Italy, not a third the size of the State of Virginia, with subjects numbering about 2,600,000, and they so imbued with the spirit of liberty, that the Pope is compelled to employ French and Austrian bayonets to keep them in subjection. His ecclesiastical power as head of the Church, imparts to him no temporal power, beyond his own irftmediate dominion, as proved by the fact, that he is in the midst of powerful Governments, none of which acknowledge his tem- poral power, or yield any obedience to his authority. They treat him as they do all foreign powers. What temporal power he claims, or in what way he ever attempted to control or in- termeddle with the temporal (for it has no ecclesiastical) af- fairs of this Government, we have yet to learn; for very few Catholics have ever been in the councils of the country, federal or State, certainly not in sufficient numbers to subvert the Goy 14 The Unim the Danger8 which 1~e8et it. [Jan., eminent, establish Catholicism, or subject us to the authority of the Pope. But, say the new-fledged Americans, the Catholics of the United States owe a temporal allegiance to the Pope, para- mount to, and in conflict with, their allegiance to the Govern- ment of the United States. This charge has been the hobby of bigots and tyrants for a great many years, and was the prolific source of all the bitter persecutions and intolerant proseriptions and disabilities with which the Catholics of Eng- land and Ireland were pursued for so many years, and which did not entirely cease until 1825. This charge was always untrue, and is now untrue, and there is no apology for its de- claration and industrious propagation at this time. Where, and in what of the authentic records of the Church is it to be found, whether in its ritual, its litany, its articles of faith, or in its moral discipline? In the Faith of Catholics, page 175, extracted from a book published in England in 1680, is found the following: Nor do Catholics, as Catholics, believe that the Pope has any direct or indirect authority over the temporal concerns of States, or the jurisdiction of Princes. Hence, should the Pope pretend to absolve or dispense His Majestys subjects from their allegiance on accout of heresy or schism, such dispensa- tion they would view as frivolous and null. To the doctrine of this proposition a general assent is given by the Catholic teachers. About the close of the last century, William Pitt, then prime minister of England, with a view of doing an act of justice to the ~Catholics, proposed interrogatories, to the faculty of divin- in the six principal and most celebrated Catholic theological universities of Europe, each of which promptly and unequivo- cally denied the existence of any civil allegiance to the Pope. The answering universities were those of Paris, Douay, Lou- vaine, Alcala, Salamanca, and Yalladolid. In M4lnors End of Controversy, page 367, published in 1801, it is said, after a long able review of this question, It is not then, the faith of this Church, that the Pope has any civil or temporal supremacy, by virtue of which he can de- pose princes or give or take away the property of other per- sons out of his own domains for even the incarnate Son of God, from whom he derives tAe supremacy which he possesses, did not claim here upon earth any right of the above-mentioned kind; on the contrary, he positively declared that his king- dom is not of this world. Hence the Catholics of both our 1856.] fIihe Un~io~ ~ the Dangers which beset it. 15 islands, have, without impeachment even from Rome, denied upon oath (the oath of allegiance) that the Pope has any civil jurisdiction, power, superiority, or prc~5minence, directly or indirectly, within this realm. In 1825 the Irish Bishops were summoned before a commit- tee of the British House of Commons. Amongst themselves they selected the most eminent and learned of their body to represent them. Being apprised of the subjects of the inquiry, they had ample time to examine and weigh and duly consider them. Their answers are briefly cited: Doctor Doyle is asked: Can the Pope absolve the kings subjects from their alle- giance ? A. No. Q. Is it in his power to deprive the king of his kingdom ? A. It is not, indeed. Q. Can he by any means excuse a Catholic from his alle- giance ? A. Most undoubtedly not. Q. Is the claim some Popes have set up to temporal author- ity opposed to Scripture and tradition ? A. IN MY OPINION, IT IS OPPOSED TO BOIH. The Right Rev. Dr. Curtis, Archbishop of Armagh, in the same examination and in answer to the same question, says: I do not think it very conformable to it. I do not say exactly it is oppossed to it; but certainly he has received no such power from Christ. Doctor Murray, Archbishop of Dublin: The Popes authority is wholly confined to a spiritual authority, according to the words of our Saviour, My king. dom is not of this world. His spiritual power does not allow him to dethrone kings or absolve their subjects from the alle- giance due to them; and any attempt of that kind I would consider contrary to Scripture and tradition. Dr. Kelly, Archbishop oC Tuam: It never was admitted as a doctrine of the Catholic Church that the Pope had temporal authority outside his own dommn- ions. In 1852, a committee was appointed to inquire into the orthodoxy of the Maynooth College in Ireland, who issued their report. They examined the professors, and propounded the same questions that were propounded to the bishops in 1825, above referred to. The answer of Dr. OHanlon, which is, in substance, the answer of all, reads thus: 16 The Umiom the Danger8 which beset it. Jan., With regard to the first doctrine of Gallican liberties, is it not a question in dispute among iRoman Catholics? It is, though we may regard the opinion which attributes either direct or indirect temporal power to the Pope or to the Church as being almost obsolete. The only writers who have attempted to revive it in modern times are Dr. Brownson, a recent con- vert to Catholicity, and an editor of an American Review, and the famous Lamennais, who was condemned by the Holy See, for the extravagance and eccentricity of certain doctrines which he held. I might here observe that in a document addressed from Rome, by Cardinal Antonelli, to the Irish Catholic Pre- lates, so early as 1791, it is expressly affirmed that the Holy See, regards that man as a calumniator,who imputes to it the tenet, that an oath to kings separated from the Catholic com- munion, can be violated, or that it is lawful for the Bishop of Rome (the Pope) to invade their rights and dominions. Pope Gregory XVI., also, not only in his evangelical letter of 1832, but in his reply to the declaration of the Prussian Government in 1838, lays down principles which appear to me to be irre- concilable with the opinion which invests the Pope or the Church with direct or indirect temporal authority. He adopts the doctrine of Tertullian, and some others of the early fathers, that no cause whatever can justify the deposition or dethrone- ment of a king, and that the people should patiently endure every sort of tyranny and oppression rather than have re- course to so violent and dangerous a remedy. This doctrine is as incompatible with the deposing power of the Pope as it is repugnant to the ideas of the political writers of these coun- b tries. Richard Watson, one of the very ablest, most learned, and most pious of the Wesleyan Methodists of England, and who would compare favorably with any divine of any church, in his Theological Dictionary, p. 824, thus defines the temporal power of the Pope. Roman Catholics, or members of the Church of Rome, otherwise called Papists, from the Pope being considered by them as the supreme head of the universal Church, the successor of St. Peter, and the fountain of theological truth and ecclesi- astical honors. He keeps his court in great state at the palace of the Vatican, and is attended by seventy cardinals as his privy councillors, in imitation of the seventy disciples of our Lord. The Popes authority in other kingdoms is merely spiritual, but in Italy he is a temporal sovereign. Louis XVIII. and the allies having in 1814 restored him to his throne, and 1856.] To Granada. Ft to those temporalities of which he was deprived by Bonaparte and the French revolution. The result of all these inquiries and this controversy has been, that all the proscriptions and disabilities theretofore im- posed upon CathoIi~ were removed in 1825, in Great Britain and Ireland, and they now enjoy all the franchises and privi- leges of other subjects. In our second number we shall show from the record the falsehood of the assumptions of this hybrid American party with regard to the Catholic citizens of the United States, and the hollowness of the pretense by which so many well-meaning but weak-minded people have been deluded. TO GRANADA. TRAYSLATEI) FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REYIEW~ PROM THE SPAHISH, BY C~ A. W. IN that bright vale, where Ows waters glide And Xeriels waves receive the sparkling tide, Girt by the gardens and the groves that lie In rich luxuriance neath a southern sky, Reposing there in majesty serene, Thy beauty, stately Granada, is seen; Thou shinest there, mid natures works sublime, The peerless Houri of a western clime. Oh! who could seek, with toil and exiles pain, Honor and wealth in distant climes to gain, And scorn the loveliness of scenes like these Wealth without toil, and innocence with ease? Oh! neither gold, the sages fame, nor power, The short and fleeti~ig phantoms of an hour, Could match a life like Ows long summers day, Dreamed amid thy fairy palaces away. Through summers burning suns the cool breeze blows From thy Sierras everlasting snows; And cloud on cloud, in gorgeous splendor rolled, Adorn thy sky with purple and with gold. 2

1856.] To Granada. Ft to those temporalities of which he was deprived by Bonaparte and the French revolution. The result of all these inquiries and this controversy has been, that all the proscriptions and disabilities theretofore im- posed upon CathoIi~ were removed in 1825, in Great Britain and Ireland, and they now enjoy all the franchises and privi- leges of other subjects. In our second number we shall show from the record the falsehood of the assumptions of this hybrid American party with regard to the Catholic citizens of the United States, and the hollowness of the pretense by which so many well-meaning but weak-minded people have been deluded. TO GRANADA. TRAYSLATEI) FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REYIEW~ PROM THE SPAHISH, BY C~ A. W. IN that bright vale, where Ows waters glide And Xeriels waves receive the sparkling tide, Girt by the gardens and the groves that lie In rich luxuriance neath a southern sky, Reposing there in majesty serene, Thy beauty, stately Granada, is seen; Thou shinest there, mid natures works sublime, The peerless Houri of a western clime. Oh! who could seek, with toil and exiles pain, Honor and wealth in distant climes to gain, And scorn the loveliness of scenes like these Wealth without toil, and innocence with ease? Oh! neither gold, the sages fame, nor power, The short and fleeti~ig phantoms of an hour, Could match a life like Ows long summers day, Dreamed amid thy fairy palaces away. Through summers burning suns the cool breeze blows From thy Sierras everlasting snows; And cloud on cloud, in gorgeous splendor rolled, Adorn thy sky with purple and with gold. 2 18 [fo Granada. The rose, the jesmine, and the orange flower, Spread their bright hue oer garden and oer bower, And in the shadowy grove, or marble hail, The coal streams murmur and the fountains falL The west wind sighing bends the lily pale, And spreads its fragrance oer the blooming vale; While from the Aihambras palace-bowers i~ heard The plaintive music of the evening bird.~ Oh! when the silver moon its glittering beams Casts on thy ancient towers and fountain streams, No fairer sight was seen of mortal eyes Since our first parents walked in Paradise. Who then could see thee, Granada, nor feel A patriots love, a patriots burning zeal; Who would not strive for thee till hope was oer, And with despairing grief their loss deplore, When adver~e fate the haughty Moor brought low, When passed his glory to a Christian foe; Though doomed to roam at fortunes fickle will, Thy memory, Granada, is with him still. And on that fatal day,w~lren all pr~ed vain, What wild laments arose upon thy plain! But longer, wilder did the chorus swell, When thy sad monarch wept his last farewell. And still on Africs lone desert strand The Moorish sentinel will musing stand; While gazing fondly oer the distant main, He seeks with longing eyes thy towers in vain~ And when from Africs coast the storm, set free, Sweeps in fierce tumult over land and sea, And the wild wind, with sudden rise and fall, Moans through the Alhambra~s wide and lonely hail, It seems to sound the sad larkieiit of those Who, forced to fly before their Christian foes, Still mourn; in climes beyond the swelling sea, The loss of glory, Granada, and thee. [Jai., 1856.] Seward.Republiean1s8m. 19 SEWARD-REPUBLIOAMSM. Qui~y first. Whats in a name? Sometimes, look you, there may be a whole history. Trench in his late work on the Study of Words, argues to prove that words are facts and things in the progressive history of nations. Now a name is a word, and if words be thingstheres something in a name. Query second. Why will men persist in stealing the livery of heaven to serve the devil in? It never deceives for a great while. At the first, we grant you, the similitude of grace beguiles the simple-hearted; but there is always a faint odor of brimstone about the gentleman inside, contracted from too intimate acquaintance with the distinguished person mentioned in the latter member of the query, which betrays them in the long run. Two queries which r~aturaUy introduce to the attention of the unbiased and unsophisticated reader the portentous com- bination of substantives at the head of this article. Will any young A~ierican, whose ideas are ordinarily clear, and whose knowledge of Lindley Murray is what is commonly called goodoblige us by parsing the sentence Seward-Re- publicanism ? We premise that the compound is none of our making. The liberty is one we should nev~er dream of taking with honest Yankee English. Speak of the Kings English, and it would be quite a natural arrangement, but to handle republicanEnglish in that way, as one might saywithout glovesheaven save the mark! Our young American friend meantime has come at it. From the maunci of his parsing, we shrewdly suspect the young rogue of a tendency to Democracy. He says Seward, im- proper noun substantive, twistiflcd. into an adjective for the purpose of governing the proper noun Republicanism, for the benefit of the improper noun, and the incalculable loss and damage of the proper noun. A parlous boy: theres the making of a member of Congress in that boy. We beg the potential voters pardon. We were thinking of the time when members of Congress wereeh?

1856.] Seward.Republiean1s8m. 19 SEWARD-REPUBLIOAMSM. Qui~y first. Whats in a name? Sometimes, look you, there may be a whole history. Trench in his late work on the Study of Words, argues to prove that words are facts and things in the progressive history of nations. Now a name is a word, and if words be thingstheres something in a name. Query second. Why will men persist in stealing the livery of heaven to serve the devil in? It never deceives for a great while. At the first, we grant you, the similitude of grace beguiles the simple-hearted; but there is always a faint odor of brimstone about the gentleman inside, contracted from too intimate acquaintance with the distinguished person mentioned in the latter member of the query, which betrays them in the long run. Two queries which r~aturaUy introduce to the attention of the unbiased and unsophisticated reader the portentous com- bination of substantives at the head of this article. Will any young A~ierican, whose ideas are ordinarily clear, and whose knowledge of Lindley Murray is what is commonly called goodoblige us by parsing the sentence Seward-Re- publicanism ? We premise that the compound is none of our making. The liberty is one we should nev~er dream of taking with honest Yankee English. Speak of the Kings English, and it would be quite a natural arrangement, but to handle republicanEnglish in that way, as one might saywithout glovesheaven save the mark! Our young American friend meantime has come at it. From the maunci of his parsing, we shrewdly suspect the young rogue of a tendency to Democracy. He says Seward, im- proper noun substantive, twistiflcd. into an adjective for the purpose of governing the proper noun Republicanism, for the benefit of the improper noun, and the incalculable loss and damage of the proper noun. A parlous boy: theres the making of a member of Congress in that boy. We beg the potential voters pardon. We were thinking of the time when members of Congress wereeh? 20 Seward-Republicanhi8m. [Jan., Is there such a word as honest in the language now-a-days? Seward-Republicanism, then, is Republicanism and Win. H. Seward, in one and the same person. A monstrous combina- tion. Convince us that it is practicable, and the Centaur and Proteus will be fabulous no longer. The wildest extravagances of heathen mythology will be common-place realities. The many-headed and many-handed Vishnu and Gaudama shall walk amongst us unnoticed. Your Hyppogriff shall caracole in our streets, and the Marids of the genii cut and come again, at their pleasure, without startling the most nervous fine lady from her propriety. And yet the term has become one descriptive of a fact, or state of facts, and is in every bodys mouth. It has given name to a party, and it is A BID FOR THE PRESIDENCY! What fact, or state of facts is it descriptive of; and to what kind of a party has it given a name? These are the questions the solution of which we are about to seek. In seeking a definition of Republicanism, we need not be at the pains to travel back to Greece nor Rome. To Italy or France our readers would thank us little for going in search of any political definition the terms of which were to be applied on this side the Atlantic. Let us content ourselves then with the general definition of a republic; and the specific one of American Republicanism. Facciolati defines a Republic to be res communis et publicct civium una viventium. Dr. John- son A state in which the power is lodged in more than one. A very lame definition. According to the i4ea of Cicero, that is the best-constituted Republic into which the force of royalty, the wisdom of aristocracy, and the honesty of the people enter as components.Vide his De. Rep. Liber 1, c. 29. Jikse optime constitutam rempublicam, quce ex tribus generibus illis, regal-i, optimo, et populari, sit rnodic confusa. An opinion clearly shared by the framers of our Constitution, since they added to the royal prerogative of the veto power, vested in the President, the aristocratic features of Senators superior in dignity and length of office to their co-legislators, and Judges appointed for life, or during good behavior. We might add the definitions of Montesquien, and, indeed, of almost all other publicists and writers upon political ethics. But, there is in all of them a certain vagueness and crudity, arising from the fact, that they are fetched from a region of possibili- ties, dimly conceived by their authors, but never from a reality with which they have had actual contact. Nor is this 1856.] & waRt~puIlioani8m. 21 strange, since the United States is the only fact of pure repub- lican government which has yet existed in the world. Our experience, therefore, must give the world a clearer and more comprehensive definition than it has yet learned. The American idea of a Repu~lic,derived from a daily con- sciousness of the reality of its existence and effect, is that of a body politic or political society of men, the government whereof is lodged in the hands of representatives chosen by the people and directly responsible to the people for the faith- ful discharge of the trust committed to them. This idea, sub- lime in its simplicity, pervades the entire govermental organ- isrn of the confederacy. In the distribution of its parts, and the necessary conditions of its action, the government becomes more or less complex. But, it is only complex in appearance, not in reality. The duties with which each agent is charged may be different, and so the whole appear complex; but, the principle which controls one controls all, and that is, direct responsibility to the People for the charge committed to any, an d its necessary surrender into the hands of the people at the expiration of a fixed term. Hence, its simplicity. Thus, the note of the encyclopedist is directly descriptive of our political condition. The word republic is sometimes under- stood to be equivalent to democracy, and the word republican is considered as equivalent to democrat. The United States are a Democratic Republic. Hence, the Democratic party proper has, time out of mind, appropriated and had tacitly conceded to it as its peculiar property the term Republican. Under that name it has won its victories, consolidated and reconciled the diverse interests, of a country, vast and varied in its conditions of life society and avocation, and, finally, imposed all its distinctive principles npon the government as laws of existence. It divorced Bank and State. It prevented the Federal Government from becoming a common contractor for the building of roads and bridges, under the pleasing title of Internal Improvements. It created a Specie Currency, by a system of sub-treasuries. It conquered free trade, and des- troyed the idea of govermental protection of class interests. It rescued the public lands from State or individual specula- tion, and it now stands the only barrier between the Union and the hybrid crew of many-colored fanatics who aim to des- ~neby one its positions have been yielded t~ it by its oppo- nents. One by one its principles have been conceded as laws 22 & ward-R~pu1licaniem. [Jan., of national existence, and those most clamorous against them compelled to acquiesce, and admit their own opposing systems to be obsolete ideas. But let us not fall into the stupid mistake of believing that this retreat is more honest than the Parthians. Watch them as they fly, and you will see that they merely remove to a safe distance from the foe they fear, and then, with an undying hatred, fit another arrow to their bow. Defeated, therefore, on all subsidiary questions, it is to the grand issue they now direct themselves, and their final arrow is hurled against the Union itself. Therefore, we have selected Mr. Senator Seward as the object to which we would direct the watchful attention of every lover of his country, since it is to his bow that this fatal arrow of disunion is now fitted, and by his arm we must expec4 it to be directed without remorse or pity. A desperate aspirant for the Presidency, governed always by the Jesuitical rule, that the end sanctities the means. His soliloquy is that of the crook-back Dickon Will men not say that to possess the crown, Nor things divine, nor human, barred my way? Well, let themthey cant but say Ihad it I was not foot as well as villaia. His ambition despairing of a legitimate issue, is willing to ruin that it may rule. But shall William H. Seward drive the people of America into the gloomy and perilous scenes to which disunion would conduct them? When so many greater have failed shall he succeed? Shall pigmies achieve what giants have labored for in vain? lilt can not be believed. But he is a cunning ape, and his fantastic tricks before high heaven have a deep purpose in them. Observe, we do not do the people of the United States the injustice to affect that it is a great or wise man against whose purposes they must be on their guard. It is a more dangerous enemy ~tillit is a cun- ning and wicked man of mean ambition and reckless charac- ter; a man too narr& w to be controlled by large ideas, too sel- fish to conceive a great and statesmanlike designwho threat- ens their peace and safety. This man has read the history of the Democratic party closely. He knows the power of a word as a popular synibol; he remembers that Democratic republi- canism has stirred the heroic sentiments of liberty and equal rights in a thousand bosoms, by the very ring and echo of its 1856.1 & wa~d~R~puZtica~8m. 23 name; that by the charm of that true symbolism, it has drawn those thousands, whilst yet ignorant, into its school, and there educated them into wise and patriotic citizens, and lovers of their whole country. He knows all this, and hating all it means, he would yet steal the symbol itself, and prostituting it to the vile uses of the agitator, the sectionalist, the socialist, the abolitionist, and all his motley crew of landless resolutes, whom their oer cloyed country is ready to vomit forthuse it as the means of destroying all it symbolizes; Standing thus, scowling in baffled hate at the principle which has so long defied him, yet nursing in his bosom. the design of tricking from it its own weapons i.nd plunging them in its bosom, we can conceive of no apter representative, than this man for Eleazar, in Old Marlowes Tragedy of Lusts Dominion, when he exclaims: Come, purple ~rillany, Sit like a robe imperial on my back; That, under thee, I closelier may contrive My vengeance I It is a vengeance which he seeks for baffled hopes and dis- appointed, schemes. How shall it be achieved? Clearly the old name of Whig will do nothing to help him. It has be- come odious. That name so holy once; around which, in the infancy of the Republic, the fondest affection and proudest memories of tb~e ifatriot clung, as to something inestimably precious; the name which summoned up. at once, pictures of heroic resistance to BrItish tyranny, and calm, intrej~id)vindica- tion of the rights of freemena name linked with every thing which adorned and sanctified our struggle for independence w~s appropriated by gentlemen of Mr. Sewards kidney; it be- came identified with the purposes of a party, unremittingly hostile to the true interests of their countrya party, whose existence was one long lingering defeat, and whose history is written in the unvarying success of its oppohentsand in a few years, the very name itself fairly stunk in the nostri1~ of the people. Sauve qui pent, became the giotto of all who bore it, and yon ma~v well believe Mr. Senator Seward does not mean to be the hindmost. Next holiest in the minds, andlsacred in the hearts of Amen- cans, is the wordRepublican. But have we not heard of a cut-purse of the empire and the rule : That from the shelf; the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket I 24 & ward4?~publican~i8m. [Jan., Twas so in Denmark: and, look you, how apt our modem political Claudius, is to follow in the footsteps of his Danish prototype. He will have the precious diadem of the Demo- cracyRepublicanismin his pocket, before your wizard can say, hey! presto! change! Thus indeed, we may cGnsider the Whig party as re-baptized, and the child, with a retrospective irony, which is perfectly Dantesque in its immensity, is called Republicanism.. The solemn farce has been played; the ceremony is complete: verily complete, for it has been baptized, at the last election in the State of New-York, in the identical waters wherein its aged parent Whiggery was drowned, or se defendendo drowned himselfthe waters of defeat. Could any thing be more mournfully ludicrous than this strange jumbling of birth and burial? A band of spcetres paler than those which beleaguered the walls of Praguethe ancient but defunct Whig partyswathed in the cerements, and rustling in the gloomy pageantry of the grave, stand wildly tossing their fieshless arms, and grinning and jabbering with their bare and ghastly jaws, around the baptismal font of the last of the Federal line. Unhappy babe! They dare not even give it its fathers name. A bill of attainder is filed against him in the high court of the people. His estates are confiscatedfor he had devastated and overthrown cot and castle and corn field, to make a royal park of Protection for his delight. His heir inherits nothing but hatred and con- tempt. It will never do to give him his fathers name. But the high-priest of the old dispensation has an inspi,ration. Let us call the child by the name the people love; but when he is old enough we will teach him his own name and what a store of hate he has laid up, against these same people ~ho have driven his fathers out from amongst them. So shall he grow strong, and cunning in safety, and bide his time, and revenge us when it comes: Let us call him Republicanism! And so they baptized him, and then went back to their own place, where Milton says, ice performs the effect of fire. It will not do therefore, for any to delude themselves with the idea, that the late and ignominious defeat of Black Repub- licanism in this State concludes the tragedy. It is merelyb the first act. There be yet four to come, and the name of the au- thor upon the title-page assures us that no trick, surprise, nor strong situation, within the range of political melo-drama will be omitted. Mr. Author and Manager Seward, has already rung~~ in the music. Presently we shall have the gas~~ 1856.1 & ward-J?epubticani~sm. 25 turned on, and a little more light upon the subject. Another touch of the bell, and the curtain rises upon the drama of Black Republicanism. You fancy, perhaps, that the hero is enacted by Toussaint LOuverture. Not a bit of it. William H. Seward is the star, and the play is cast with all the strength of a motley company. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. Abolitionism; Fourierism; Socialism; Free-Soilism; Free- Lovism, and all the Isms, mouth, and strut, and rant, and 0 er do Termagant to a delighted audience of saints and tabbies; whilst meekly ranged on either side the stage, like Bombastes army, the tattered remnants of the Whig party stand agape, and swear this God doth speak brave words. And it is this forlorn, forsaken crew of knavish fools, and foob ish knaves who are to disturb our quiet, and make night hideous with threats of disunion! Ye Gods it doth amaze us. When John C. Calhoun stood up and spoke such threats, mad and foolish though he was, there was a melancholy gran- deur about the man which warded hate aside, and turned our harshest thoughts into a gentle pity. It seemed a sad, dis- heartening thing, to see a great and honest man a monomaniac on the subject of slavery, and in his paroxysms tearing the laurel from his own brow, dashing down his own statue from its niche in the national galleryand, refusing to be im- mortal, narrow his mind to the limits of a single State, and the plaudits of its venal press. But when William H. Seward stands up to do the same thing, we are irresistibly reminded of Jonathan Wild attempting the character of Coriolanus. The first is a grand old gloomy portrait by Salvator Rosa; the last a grotesque etching of Tony Johannot. But with the ludicrous and repulsive in the last picture mingles also something of the terrible. The craft of the man supplies the place of knowledge, and his patient industry in evil-doing that of ~enius. Thus, in organizing a new party from the scattered remnants of the old regular whig army, he has imitated Fra Moriale, Conrad Lando, and Sir John Hawkwood, and recruited his band of free lances with every desperate adventurer, ruined gamester, or discharged ~rvant, who would wear his livery. Added to these, the class of insane persons popularly known as Ism-ites, absurd reasoners but desperate fighters, and we have the whole material, moral and physical, of the new Black Republican party. The tactics of this party are the ordinary tacties of Condot- tieri. Living upon the spoil of honest men, their harvest must 26 & ward-R~pu~ieanioni. [Jan., be reaped in a time of civil turmoil and confusion. State, there. fore, must be set against state, and community against commu- nity. Geographical lines must be made to bound rivalries, and divide neighbors into hostile encampments. Distrust, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, must be insidiously sown in hearts once bound together by the strong ties of con- sanguinity or of affection. Numberless petty broils, and sec- tional wars must distract attention, and afford pay and plunder for the free lances of Black Republican chivalry. The South must be taught to believe the North, from Mason & Dixons to the Canada line, little better than a grand abolition confed- eracy; and the I~Torth goaded with the idea that Southern chivalry is perpetually loading its revolver or sharpening its bowie-knife for the benevolent purpose of cutting its throat or blowing out its brains at the first convenient opportunity. Is the picture ovetd~rawn? The people of the United States know that it is not. Are the meang and methods of the arch-agitator fairly set forth by us? Every Northern man knows that they are. And who is~ there that jsig~6ran~. ef~ the purpose of it all; who so fondly ignorant or confiding as to believe either Wil- liam H. Seward or his party honest in their love of the Negro? Submit the matter to any test that human ingenuity can de- vise,: and; our life: up6n it, the l~ d~st-~earted planter between Maryland and Texas has more true tenderness for the bodies and souls of his slaves; will do more unselfish acts for their benefit, and conduct himself towards them with a more manly and Christian spirit of sympathy and affection than could be gathered out of the souls of all the ranting Black Republicans together. How grandly beautiful, ~with what a holy magnifi- cence, above the discordant clamor of these political birds of ill omen, these bats and o~ls, the burden of whose boding scream is ever the filthy word Disunion, rise the appealing tones of Madison: Hearken~iot t6 the unnatural voice, which teIls~ you that the people of America, knit together :a~ they are by so many chords. of aftection,~ can no longer live together as members of the sam& f~mily; can no longer continue the mutual guardians of their mutual happiness; qan no longer be fellow-citizens of one great, respectable, and flourishing empire. No, my countryr~en, shut your ears against this unhallowed: language. Sh~it your hq~arts against the poison which it con~ veys. The kindred b16& d which flows in. the veins of Ameri- can citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in de 1856.] Vi& uvianae. 27 fense of their sacred rights, consecrate their union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me, the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects~ th~ most rash of all attempts, is that of rending in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties, and promote our happiness. S. W. 0. V I T li U V I A N A E. BY PETER KOCH WREN, ARCHITECT. CHAPTER PIBSP. MORE OR LESS INTRODUCTORY TO THE AUTHORS STYLE. Trn~i days of temples are passed. It is an age of utilitarian- I have an ambition, also, to be useful to my fellow. beings. I shall, therefore, devote to their service the accumu- lated stores of my learning and experience. As a place in the qountry is the end and aim of nine out of ten of my fel- low-citizens, who do not know a cabbage from a cart-wheel, I shall dedicate this work chiefly to a series of useful rules and suggestions, for the building of Italian villas, Elizabethan cot- tages, Swiss ch~lets, Gothic castles and other such very taste- ful and appropriate improvements of the old-fashioned country house. To plunge, then, at once, into the middle of the subject, IL anticipate your impatience, my dear public, and shall proceed to tell you How to build a house. The mechanical part of the operation you had, perhaps, better leave to the carpenter and mason. The plan I shall be happy to furnish you. The following plain ~nd simplej rules will, IL think, singu- larly assist you. First. Put it up so that it will stand alone. A house which becomes inclined in early youth, is apt to crack before it reaches mature age, or au angle of forty-five degrees, and to allow the wind too much familiar access. Now-, the wind, says Sir Lytton Bulwer, is disagreeable when it whistles through the key-hole. It is apt to be more so when your

1856.] Vi& uvianae. 27 fense of their sacred rights, consecrate their union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me, the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects~ th~ most rash of all attempts, is that of rending in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties, and promote our happiness. S. W. 0. V I T li U V I A N A E. BY PETER KOCH WREN, ARCHITECT. CHAPTER PIBSP. MORE OR LESS INTRODUCTORY TO THE AUTHORS STYLE. Trn~i days of temples are passed. It is an age of utilitarian- I have an ambition, also, to be useful to my fellow. beings. I shall, therefore, devote to their service the accumu- lated stores of my learning and experience. As a place in the qountry is the end and aim of nine out of ten of my fel- low-citizens, who do not know a cabbage from a cart-wheel, I shall dedicate this work chiefly to a series of useful rules and suggestions, for the building of Italian villas, Elizabethan cot- tages, Swiss ch~lets, Gothic castles and other such very taste- ful and appropriate improvements of the old-fashioned country house. To plunge, then, at once, into the middle of the subject, IL anticipate your impatience, my dear public, and shall proceed to tell you How to build a house. The mechanical part of the operation you had, perhaps, better leave to the carpenter and mason. The plan I shall be happy to furnish you. The following plain ~nd simplej rules will, IL think, singu- larly assist you. First. Put it up so that it will stand alone. A house which becomes inclined in early youth, is apt to crack before it reaches mature age, or au angle of forty-five degrees, and to allow the wind too much familiar access. Now-, the wind, says Sir Lytton Bulwer, is disagreeable when it whistles through the key-hole. It is apt to be more so when your 28 lTitru~iG4uze. [Jan., gable indulges in a general response to the popular Scotch air of Whistle and Ill come to ye, my lad. Second. Before you put up an illustrated villa or cottage orn6e, be sure you have counted the cost. As the be~t notes on building, I would suggest a constant reference to your book of notes payable. Third. Always secure a good aspect, which we would have you understand to mean, place your house so, that when people come to see it, they will not amuse themselves by what is vulgarly called, taking a sight at it, an operation com- monly performed by a close juxtaposition between the thumb and the olfactory organ of the observer. If you can place it so as to have the sun on both sides of it at onceit will be an advantage. Foitrth. As a general rule, the entrance should be in a con- venient place for getting in and out. 1f however, any local peculiarity obliges you to choose another. place, it will, per- a s be better to do so. You may, under such circumstances, console yourself with the adage, that the furthest way round is the nearest way home. Fifth. You should be particular about the kitchen and indis. pensable offices. ig however, you have, before you reach them, spent more money than you know where to borrow, the kitchen may be entirely dispensed with, as you will have food for thought ready cooked at all times. The purchase of a cow, which you may keep in the kitchen-garden, will, also, afford you an admirable opportunity of learning how to chew the cud of bitter fancies. Sixth. If your destiny, in your country home, is to be a mere idler, the smaller your house is the better, as you will have a greater chance of confining your attention to your business. Seventh. If you propose being an early riser and feeder, you will find a dining~room superfluous. After breakfasting with the early birds, upon worms, which, we are informed that class of the community catch in great numbers, you will find a bite, at noons with the cattle very convenient. This advice is founded upon the supposition, that your rural tastes will, naturally, lead you to go to grass. If, however, you make the late afternoon, or early evening ~rneal, the principal event of the, day, you can drink your tea, and will, consequently, have no need of a aalle c~ manger. .Th~31ah. You will, of course, provide a gem of a room for sour wifeMrs. Dobkins. Should you, however, be in the 185& ] Vitrwvianae. 29 habit of calling her my duck, the nearest pond may entirely obviate that necessity, and relieve you of a great deal of trouble. Ninth. Your salon, parlor, or drawing-roomas you please never being used, you will, naturally, spend the most pains and money upon it, and may also occasionally enliven the tedium of a stormy day, by unlocking the door, if Mrs. D will lend you the key, and, examining yourself in the grand mirror, request the gentleman you see there to explain his reflections, and say, what he means by insinuating that there is any truth in the adage, A fool and his money are soon parted. You will then cautiously retire, first being careful to observe that the slip-covers to the furniture have not been removed since the last annual visit of your fine neighbors, the De Bounces. We shall next proceed to consider the LIBRARY. The pro- vision of such a room is a necessity, provided you have airy books to put in it, or any desire to read them when you get there. If, however, your collection is small and select, consisting of the Complete Housewife, for Miss Dobkins, and a back- gammon box, labelled History of England, for yourseli a pair of swinging-shelves, in the general sitting-room, will be at once ornamental and convenient, and effect a decided sav- ing both in expenditure and space. THE GENTLEMENS IIRESSING-ROOM.----As this should be near the hail, you can have a closet to serve instead, cunningly contrived under the main staircase. You will, by this means, secure great ease of access and complete retirement. Mud being the prevalent characteristic of the country, and cowhide boots indispensable luxuries, the principal furniture should consist of a boot-jack and a p air of slippers. The tin basin and the jack-towel you will, of course, take care always to have ready in the wash-house. In warm wea- ther, the bench by the well is the more eligible position for them. THE PRINCIPAL STAIRCASE should, by all means, form a communication between the first and second floors of the house, unless, like honest Dennis Bulgrudderys, your ho use 15; only two stories high, and both on the ground-floor, when the staircase principle may be altogether omitted from the elevation: it can, then, be considered entirely off from the main hall, which may serve, on occasion, either as a ball-roorm 80 Vitruvianae. [Jan., or a ten-pin alley. In holiday times, however, the barn-floor offers a fine area of unobstructed space for both purposes, and affords a degree of primitive enjoyment to the dancers, altoge- ther unattainable in gilded halls, not that we are supposing your hall to be gilded, but that the quotation is appropriate to the dignity of the subject, and the slight reference to gold, in connection with dancing, highly suggestive of your having to pay the piper, at the end of the holidays. THE SLEEPING APARTMENTS, if you are of a convivial disposition, had better be upon the ground-floor, and handy to the dairy, unless the milk is kept lying about loose. Should you, however, decide upon the second floor, or upon having a second floor at all, a staircase.--roomy, easy of ascent, and with the fewest possible turnings~will be fouiid advanta- geous to health and longevity. The bed-rooms being used entirely for sleeping purposes, light will not only be superfluous, but entirely out of the ques- tion, as, the less light one has to sleep by, the better. Windows may, therefore, be dispensed with to the greatest advantage. A ventilation hole, like those used, we believe, in Glasgow, under a special exemption from that blessing of English con- stitutional libertythe window-taxbeing quite sufficient. Habits of early rising, and a large increase of health and wisdom, will accrue from this sensible and useful retrench~ ment. A door to each room will, we are disposed to think, be found indispensable. THE SERVANTS STAIRWAY ought t~ be entirely distinct from that used by the family. It is exceedingly awkward, and some- times annoying, to find John Footman making love to Sally Housemaid on the first landing, or Peter Groom and Dolly Cook comparing gains7 on the second, and debating the ques- tion of how soon they may prudently set up a public, or a steamboat-bar on your missings. ONAPTER SECOND. OF STYLES OF ARCHITEOTURg. YOUR architecture should spring naturally from the situation and prevailing features of the country, and your house be, as it were, the principal plant produced i~ipon your grounds. The werdancy of having a country house at all, and the improba 1856.] 81 bility of your producing any thing else, will, however, secure you a close approximation to this desirable ch~racteristic. To make assurance doubly suie,however, and take a bond of fateif the gentleman from whom. you purchase have not given you a surfeit of every thing in the nature of bonds, by taking yours for two thirds the purchase-money at ten per cent, and a bonus, it may not be:amiss to point out a few of the grand divisions in SYMPATHETIC ARCHITECTURE you would do well to attend to. 1f for instance, the country be a CHAMPAIGN one, a detached tower shaped in the form of a bottle will be highly picturesque, appropriate, and suggestive. The introduction of the cork- form in your out-buildings will be found an admirable exten- sion of the design, and afford a pleasing evidence of your accu- racy of taste. In the neighborhood of large rivers, or numerous lakes, nothing could be in finer keeping than the ark or flat-bc at. By the adoption of this form the annual recurrer~ce of. the spring freshets will add the agreeable variety of a yachting excursion, unattended with any of the trouble of such an amusement, to the monotony of an ordinary country life. Five years experience of a cquntry life in the kingdom of New-Jersey has disposed the author to believe the flat-boat style appropriate to almost any rural site, as no one but a de- cided~flat would remain, over a month at a time, in the country, of his own free will. In a mountainous country a CASTELLATED yesjdence is not inappropriate. Great care, howeve~, should be taken in adding the towers, or wings, as they are peculiarly apt to furnish your purse with the same unfortunate appendages. In a future chapter we may go more particularly into the subject of the different styles; also 1*ie method of warming and ventilating. The latter, however, we e~nsider of little cousequence, as, in the country, we always found it much more difficult to keep the wind out than let it in; indeed, every country house in which we were ever so unfortunate as to pass a night, sent us home with the ear~aehe, and a stiff neck, and appeared to us to be particularly dedicated to the worship of 4~olus. DRESSING IRoOMslinen-closets, housemaids~ and house- keepers rooms, bathing-rooms, ete;, ete., you may think about, but had much better take it out in thinking; as the more you 32 Vitruvianae. [Jan., have of them the worse you will be off; on the time-honored principle that fools build hoqses for wise men to live in. THE HEIGHT and proportion of the rooms must, in a mea- sure, depend upon tli e size of the building. If your house, therefore, be twenty-four by thirty-two feet, it may be an agreeable, but it will be found a delusive anticipation to expect your hall to be twenty feet wide, or your drawing-room to be forty by fifty. If it be a frame building, fourteen feet from plate to sill, it will also be an error to calculate upon having a sixteen-foot ceiling to your parlor, and, at the same time, room for a high- posted belstead on your second floor. With these slight and unimportant restrictions, you may make your rooms any size you please. Your IDINING-IRoOM, to secure the comfort of the diners, should be at least sixteen feet wide. A good cook, however, will be much more certain to secure their comfort, and it would, perhaps, be better to attend to the dimensions of your cook than your dining-room, as, without her, nojuatter what plan you lay down, the whole thing will very soon be as broad as it is long. We had intended to direct you where to put the fire-place, but it would be idle to do so before settling the question of the cook, as it would be merely getting out of the frying-pan into the fire. Your DRAWING-ROOM should not be square, but rather long than otherwise. As we expect, however, to be longer than otherwise before we have a drawing-room of our own to test the propriety of our directions upon, we shall not draw any farther on our imagination for this apartment. What rules should be applied to long corridors and galleries we are not prepared to say. Some good hints may be found in Lord Byron, however, as to their appropriateness for the resi- dence of a melancholy man, and we refer the reader, there- fore to his celebrated work on moral architecture, called Don Juan. After all, it would perhaps be as well to let the long corri- dors alone, and content yourself with a passage-way below, and a shelf for a pot of mignionette under each window. We shall devote our attention in the next chapter to the KITCHEN, and as that department offers a large range to the artist, we hope to do it particularly brown. 1856.1 ifter the Battle. 33 AFTER THE BATTLE. THERE is little in looking back upon a disastrously result. ing State election, to inspire us with very fanciful or visionary anticipations as to the future, or induce us in very exulting strains, to sound the praises of a party, that thus sacrifices its honor and integrity upon the altar of selfishness. Were the whole Democracy of the Union, thus sadly distracted, divided, and dwarfed, we would leave them to fight their own battles, write their own laudatory, and their own epitaph. The obsti- nate, fool-hardy selfishness, which has disgraced their leading men, has nullified and nothingized, for the moment, the once impregnable and lion-hearted Democracy of the Empire State. The fact is all we wish to put on record. To which faction the larger part of this disaster is attributable, we leave others to determine. It is sufficiently humiliating to view the scene before us; and if possible to read a moral in it, that may hereafter guide us in safer paths, and lead us to truer honor. Whenever the Democracy of New-York shall again be united; when the unselfish spirit of Silas Wright shall inspire and control the hearts of her leading men; then again, as we still fondly hope, her masses shall move arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder, in defense of the time-honored political principles, which so often, in the most trying times, and on the most mo, mentous occasions, they have triumphantly and gloriously vindicated,then, and not till then, shall we retrieve our wounded honor, and once more be pointed to from our sister States, as the Gibraltar of the Union, and the Constitution. Whilst we look at the dark side of the picture, let us not forget that all is not lost. When we look abroad over the vast army that is to be marshaled for the battle of 1856, we do not everywhere behold the banner of Democracy trailed in the dust. Far from it.. In every State of the Union a spirit of harmony is springing up, and the spirit of discord in our ranks dwindling away. The great body of Democratic men, out of New-York, are acting unitedly and energetically, and are achieving results which should inspire us with hope, and teach us to follow their example. We have in anticipation, a Na- tional Convention, which, by a firm and patriotic course, in per- 3

1856.1 ifter the Battle. 33 AFTER THE BATTLE. THERE is little in looking back upon a disastrously result. ing State election, to inspire us with very fanciful or visionary anticipations as to the future, or induce us in very exulting strains, to sound the praises of a party, that thus sacrifices its honor and integrity upon the altar of selfishness. Were the whole Democracy of the Union, thus sadly distracted, divided, and dwarfed, we would leave them to fight their own battles, write their own laudatory, and their own epitaph. The obsti- nate, fool-hardy selfishness, which has disgraced their leading men, has nullified and nothingized, for the moment, the once impregnable and lion-hearted Democracy of the Empire State. The fact is all we wish to put on record. To which faction the larger part of this disaster is attributable, we leave others to determine. It is sufficiently humiliating to view the scene before us; and if possible to read a moral in it, that may hereafter guide us in safer paths, and lead us to truer honor. Whenever the Democracy of New-York shall again be united; when the unselfish spirit of Silas Wright shall inspire and control the hearts of her leading men; then again, as we still fondly hope, her masses shall move arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder, in defense of the time-honored political principles, which so often, in the most trying times, and on the most mo, mentous occasions, they have triumphantly and gloriously vindicated,then, and not till then, shall we retrieve our wounded honor, and once more be pointed to from our sister States, as the Gibraltar of the Union, and the Constitution. Whilst we look at the dark side of the picture, let us not forget that all is not lost. When we look abroad over the vast army that is to be marshaled for the battle of 1856, we do not everywhere behold the banner of Democracy trailed in the dust. Far from it.. In every State of the Union a spirit of harmony is springing up, and the spirit of discord in our ranks dwindling away. The great body of Democratic men, out of New-York, are acting unitedly and energetically, and are achieving results which should inspire us with hope, and teach us to follow their example. We have in anticipation, a Na- tional Convention, which, by a firm and patriotic course, in per- 3 34 After the Battle. [Jan., mitting no jot or tittle of true Democratic faith to be sacrificed on the altar of Sectionalism, in selecting men, as candidates, who have shown their hand, uttered their opinions, and pledged their sacred honor to that faith, may again, even here, produce har- mony, and enable us to enter the contest of 1856, with .sure prestige of victory. It is possible for the Democracy of New- York, to regain the proud eminence on which they stood, when in 1852, they rolled up a majority of twenty-eight thou- sand for Pierce and King. It is not impossible that selfishness had something to do in producing that unparalleled majority; not so much, however, as it has openly and shamefully done, in reducing it to two impotent and contemptible minorities. Is it not possible, nay probable, so far as selfishness caused the discordant material of 1852 to combine in a solid and impregnable phalanx, that in 1856 it may perform the same beneficent office? It is a spirit of Mammon we admitthat least erected of the spirits that fell. But so long as the loaves and fishes are necessarily a com- ponent part of what is achieved by victory, the party most likely in his judgment to succeed, is certain to have, if not to be cursed in the end, by his support. The Democratic party is not the only one he is ready to serve. He is already count- ing his accumulated treasure of Know-Nothingism. He is by turns Irish, Anti-Mason, Abolitionist, and Mormon, just as the chances of success appear in prospect; and if he fail to thrust himself forward, and stand in the front rank in the contest of 1856, on the side of the Democratic nominees, it will be be- cause his grovelling and sordid perceptions, can not see the loaves and. fishes in that direction. He helped the Whigs in 1840, but deserted them the moment his expected National Bank was vetoed. He gave them a lift again in 1848, but quit them the moment Galphinism exploded, and their credit began to run low. We contend that the administration of President Pierce has been a good and an able one. No jot or tittle of our national honor has been sacrificed, nor has the country, from any want of enlightened statesmanship or sound policy, on the part of the government, suffered in any of its vast interests. In our November number we showed conclusively, that the Presidents vetoes of three important acts of Congress, of the last session, were not only justifiable and called for, on grounds of positive justice and sound policy, but that they were in strict accord- ance with the opinions and decisions which have emanated from our purest and wisest Democratic statesmen, for the last half a century. 1856.] After the Battle. 35 The administration is not to be condemned for that cause, even if it have suffered the inevitable consequences of coming into power by so vast and unexpected a majority. We will not stop to basket up the family of troubles, naturally and almost inevitably resulting from having so many to feed. The most common mind will discover the difficulty at a glance; and we fear that our merely hinting at the idea, may induce or provoke some ill-disposed persons, to throw back upon us the insinuation, that we are not likely at the next trial to encoun- ter the same evil. Jefferson used to say, that one or two was the safest majority in a house of Congress. We suppose the safety consisted in there being little danger of such a majority being split up into cliques and factions. Speaking of Jefferson, reminds us of the man who did more than any other to lay a solid and durable foundation of pure republican principles, upon which the Democratic party might plant its standard and be invulnerable. It is to the period, in which his influence had such controlling power over the des- tiny of his country, that we can also look for a sample of such integrity and devotion to those principles, as whenever prac- tised and lived up to, will shield them from danger or degen- eracy. He, like all his Democratic successors in office, had fanaticism and Federalism to contend with. In his time, the priesthood were alarmed lest the Bible should be suppressed, and all the infidelity that had disgraced France, prevail here under legal sanction. They therefore united with the Federal- ists in denouncing him as a Jacobin and demagogue. The pulpit became a political forum, and a great many good old ladies, and some very honest men, were exceedingly frightened, both in Connecticut and Massachusetts. The Federal party were powerful in wealih, as well as in the eminent talent and learning of their leading men. The wealth was not held back when it could be brought to bear upon the envied popularity of the Democrat Jefferson. (We owe the Federalists what it is worth, for the name they gave us in derision, and when we have made it respectable, have tried to steal.) The talents of that aristocratic party, were bitterly, constantly, and intensely em- ployed in defaming his character, and in misrepresenting and distorting his motives and policy. No denunciations of the patriot Jackson, in our times, were more bitter and relentless than were bestowed upon Jefferson, from the day he became the powerful rival of the elder Adams, to that in which he sur- rendered the presidential chair to Mr. Madison. No times have been more trying to the popularity of a public man. The 36 After the Ba/tie. [Jan., republic was, as it were, in its infancy. Its strength was not developed. Its resources were limited. The country was threatened, both at home and from abroad; yet no man has since taken a more decided stand, or more unflinchingly main- tained and defended the national honor than did he. The force of his character, and the integrity of his party were such, that although he came into power by a mere casting vote in the House of Representatives, he was at the end of four years triumphantly re~ilected by the people, and brought the second term of his service to a brilliant close, by the election of a Democrat as his successor. We shall need just such a Demo- cratic party next year. They were a goodly heritage, left by Mr. Jefferson to Mr. Madison, for his support in what he was to encounter in the war of 1812. The hatred of the Federal party for every thing Democratic, did not end with Mr. Jeffersons administration~ but, if possi- ble, was exhibited towards that of Madison in even greater violence and atrocity. The same priesthood, and the same politicians were still alive; and their bigotry on the one hand, and disappointed ambition on the other, seemed to have lost none of their virulence, but on the contrary, to have reached in madness, the verge of treason. On the fanatic side, in the war of 1812, England was toasted as the Bulwark of our re- ligion, and the Worlds last hqpe. On that of the politicians, Madison was denounced in every form of malignant vitupera- tion of which language is expressive. Such things ought not to be entirely forgotten; and therefore we will offer the fol- lowing, merely as a sample, for it is only an instance among ten thousand. It is a sentiment offered by a distinguished Federalist, on a public occasion: James Miadisonunfit for Heaventoo bad for Hell: may the anger of darkness convey him beyond the bounds of either. We do not mean to insinuate that either Fusionists, Know-Nothings, or Abolitionists would now so far forget themselves, as to denounce President Pierce in terms of such utter disrespect; but they have come as near to it as the present state of civilization will permit. The noble Democracy which Mr. Jefferson had trained, were the shield and buckler of Mr. Madisons administration to the end of the war. Its close was brilliant. It shed a light upon the enormities perpetrated towards their country by the Fede- ral party, Hartford Convention and all, which caused them to shrink from public view. The party was never heard of again, as such, for ten years. It had been practically dead from the election of Mr. Monroe, to that of Mr. Adams; and the first 1856.] After the Battle. notice we had of its resurrection, was the announcement by Josiah Quincy, of Boston, we think on the 4th July, 1825, in a toast in honor of Mr. Adams: Those who fell with the first Adams, have risen with the second. The election of 1828 taught them, that if they had thus risen, it was only to fall again. Of the faithfulness and energy of the Democracy, not only in the violent struggle which resulted in General Jacksons elec- tion, but in the subsequent events that marked the administra- tion of that heroic man, it were useless here to speak. They are as familiar to all as household words. It is enough to say of the Democracy of Jacksons time, that they stood by their principles, and their illustrious leader, with iinjlinching firm- ness to the last, and placed in the chair of state as his successor his chosen man. But General Jackson, great and faithful as he was, did not leave to Mr. Van Buren a duty without its great and embarrass- ing difficulties, He had himself most evidently foreseen, that a financial crisis was approaching; for, in the summer of 1836, nearly a year before the expiration of his official term, he had caused an order to be issued, requiring the payments for the public lands, purchased on speculation, and not for actual settlement, to be made in gold and silver, instead of bank- notes, which had up to that time been received. The crisis his wisdom and forecast had thus anticipated, did not arrive till after Mr. Van Burens accession in 1837. It was such as caused an almost universal suspension of specie payments, by the banks throughout the country, a prostration of business, and a general state of bankruptcy for several years. In this emergency, Mr. Van Buren called a special session of Congress, and submitted to that body a remedy for the then existing evil, so far as the public treasury is concerned, which has since been readopted, and as we trust become a settled policy, to wit: that all the public dues, of every nature and description shall be paid, and all its disbursement made in specie. The proposition seems not to have been finally acted upon by Congress, till the people in the election of a new one, had had an opportunity to be heard. But in the first session of the next Congress, Mr. Van Burens sub-treasury bill be- came a law, and received his approval on the 4th of July, 1840. It was in the midst of the political hurricane of T~ppe- canoe and Tyler too ; and in that drunken canvass, in which professed religion and positive debauchery, walked arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder, it had before its passage become the 38 After the Battle. [Jan., only open issue the enemies of Mr. Van Buren offered. The man of straw without principles, whom they had chosen for a candidate, was, under, the circumstances of the crisis, triumph- antly elected President of the United States. Many men sup- posed, that thereupon, the Democratic party would wrap itself in grave-clothes, and die off as decently as possible. But the history shows a far different result. At the fall elections of 1841, it became perfectly apparent that the Coon, and not the Democracy, had gone into a state of defunction. The animal was practically skinnecl~ from Maine to Louisiana. Nevertheless, it struggled hard to live, and had a sort of spasmodic existence. Under the banner of that great aiid talented man, (however fatally he may have erred in politics,) Henry Clay, the Whig party rallied again, and made a desperate effort against the Democracy, in 1844. It was a well-fought field, and, unlike that of 1840, it was a pitched battle, on the ground of political principles and prin- ciples of public policy. The friends of Martin Van Buren were wounded deeply, that he was not the chosen candidate to bear the Democratic flag in that fight, and have an opportunity to retrieve, in his own person, the defeat of 1840. Neyertheless, they were Democrats still, and no matter who the standard- bearer might be, they were determined to have their full share of the fight. And so they did. New-York, wounded, as her Democracy might justly feel, at M. Van Burens rejection by the National Convention, when he had gone into that body with a large majority, little less than two thirds, still stood firmly by the principles and the usages of the party. Silas Wright; then a Senator and the leading one in Congress, had been offered the nomination as Vice-President on the ticket, with Mr. Polk, and had declined it. But, when it seemed certain that Mr. Polk must lose the vote of the State and with it his election, unless the very strongest man in the affections and the confidence of the people of New.York could be placed in nomination, at the head of our State ticket, Mr. Wrights magnanimity was appealed to by the party. The great per- sonal sacrifice he made when he accepte the ubernatorial nomination, and yielded his exalted position in the Senate, can scarcely be fully appreciated. Nor could such a sacrifice have been expected but from the most unselfish patriot whose name adorns the history of the Empire State. The close of the canvass told the value of the service he had rendered. It bad secured the election of the Democratic ticket, and, with that triumph, the vindication and re~stablishment of the solid, 1& 56.] After the Battle. 39 constitutional principles of public policy, which had marked the administrations of Jackson and Van Buren; and Mr. Van Buren, in his retirement, can not but regard one of the fruits of that campaign as a trophy of inestimable value. It secured the re~inactment of the sub-treasury of 1840, upon which he had staked his reputation as a statesman; and the sober second thought of his countrymen has settled down upon it in contentment and peace, fully persuaded that it is the best and safest financial system, both for the government and the people, the wisdom of man can devise. What administration of this government has conferred higher or more substantial benefits upon the country than that of Mr. Polk? If the Whigs of 1844 were alarmed at the annexation of Texas, and trembled, like the king of Babylon, at the war with Mexico, how deeply should they lament the acquisition of California, the establishment of the tariff of 184G, and the re~$stablishment of the independent treasury, whose everlasting condemnation they vainly supposed they had pronounced in 1840. The principal object of this article is to call to mind a few of the high claims the Democracy of the tTnited States have upon the confidence and gratitude of the country, and to demonstrate, that the party who have accomplished so much are neither disbanded nor disheartened; but, on the contrary, are looking forward, with confident and firm resolves, to new triumphs and the achievement of still richer national benefits. With the causes which produced the defeat of General Cass, in 1848, the people of New-York, at least, are perfectly fami- liar. If the Nicholson letter, asserting the right of squatter sovereignty, had any share in producing the result, that truly great and patriotic man will find a source of just pride, in the fact, that the Congress of the United States, with the approval of a Democratic President, have as fully carried out his views on that question, as they have those of Mr. Van Bur~n in regard to the sub-treasury. Neither of those men needed the Pre- sidency to make him great. The defeat of General Cass accomplished nothing that the Whigs could claim as a victory, except the temporary posses- sion of power without the means of using it for the establish- ments of any of their aristocratic dogmas or doctrines. The administration of Mr. Fillmore was relieved of its monotony by the Compromise Acts of 1850, in the passage of which the greatest and best men of both parties could and did cordi- ally unite. 40 After the Battle. [Jan., Benjamin F. Hallett, when the anti-masonic party to which he had belonged, was sold to the Whigs, in refusing to ratify the contract, pronounced the Whig party the inherent minority in the United States, and their history, thus far, indicates that Mr. llallett was not far from the mark. In 1852, the Whigs offered a military chieftain, as regular a war, pestilence,, and famine chief-captain as was General Jackson; one who had never drawn his sword but to be victo- rious; covered with laurels; ten times the man, in a military or civil point of view, that either Harrison or Taylor had been; the first choice of the great body of the Whigs; available; having all the isms and fanaticisms on his side; acceptable to the IRomish Church; delighted with the sweet Irish brogue, and wondering at the varied richness of the German tongue. Against such a candidate the Democrats placed in the field Franklin Pierce, of New~Hampshire, a man who had not been named in connection with the Presidency beyond the limits of his native State, twenty-four hours before his nomina- tion. If the veracity of the Whigs can be relied on, his only mili- tary glory consisted in having fainted before Chapultepec. His principal available qualities were his acknowledged ability, his sterling patriotism, and his unswerving fidelity to the prin- ciples and usages of the Democratic party. He was placed before the country on a political creed or platform, unmistak- ably plain and explicit in its terms, openly avowed, widely promulgated, at war with all the isms and fanaticisms, implor- ing the aid of no section or faction, but appealing, boldly and fearlessly, to the whole people of the United States for their verdict on its merits. The principles on which Franklin Pierce rested for victory were sufficient to insure it, no matter how small in stature he may have seemed~ when compared with the Giant of Gath. The giant took four States, the strip- ling the balance. Hiss administration has been distinguished by a faithful adherence to the platform on which he was elected. The Kansas-Nebraska Act, brought forward in Congress, and so ably and successfully advocated by the talented and intrepid Senator from Illinois for a time, threatened to Taise a serious question; inasmuch, as it abrogated the Missouri - Compro- mise. A party was immediately organized, and made its appeal. Its only visible effect, thus far, has been the rending asunder of the Whig party proper, and giving the largest half to the Know-Nothings, who seem to KNOW ENOUGH to repudiate the sectional malignity of the other portion; and they 1856.] After the Battle. 41 will learn, in due time, that intolerance in matters of religion, in thi~s country, is not only unconstitutional, but an inherent minority quality, in a political party The triumphs of the Democracy during the present year, in Pennsylvania, Virginia, Indiana, North-Carolina, New-Jersey, Georgia, Maine, Tennessee, Florida, and other States, are far from indicating the disorganization and dissolution of the party. These elections have been, necessarily, of a local character, and, in such cases, the Democracy are seldom out in the united strength they muster at a presidential canvass. In Ohio, although a year ago, the fusion of Whigs, Abolitionists, and malcontents in general, carried the election by an uncounted majority, it appears the good old Democratic party is still alive, and, at the recent election, have brought the fusion~~ majority to a very low figure, with every prospect of its utter annihilation in 1856. This is the only Western State where fusion of Abolitionism and Whiggery has really effected any thing. If we recollect well, the Dutch have taken Hol- land, in Vermont. The Cincinnati Gazette, whose editor is of the Seward school, extends its hands imploringly to the Know-Nothings, and exclaims: Without the aid of the Amer~- can party, Ohio could not have been, and CAN NOT BE carried against the Democratic party. We shall see, within a year, whether salt-petre, when combined with the other ingredients of gunpowder, will explode. New-York has ever, and, from her great population and commercial position, both on the sea-coast and the Western waters, will ever, exert a vast influence upon the elections of the country, and, particularly, upon a presidential election. The instances are few, confined, we believe, to one, where her Democracy, when united~ have failed of success,the anomalous election of 1840, when Mr. Van Buren was defeated. We were divided and distracted before the nomination of Pierce, nearly as much so as we are now, but, when reUnited, we swept the State overwhelmingly. Shall it be done again? There is no note of fear, of disaster, or defeat in any other quarter, amongst the great Democratic family of the Union. Let the leading men of the Democratic party, in New-York, study the character of Silas Wright, and imitate his example of patriotism and magnanimity. W. 42 A Alorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., A MORNING AT TUE CHURCH OF THE PILGRIMS. LIFE has its myths as history has; actual and substantial personages, it is true, but so inflated with assumptions, or mag- nified by rumors, that the real mingles with the fabulous, the distinction between the master and the disciple fades, and is lost in the shock of tumultuous mediocrity. They are the peculiar products of no geographical section, nor exclusively the emanation of particular professions or employments. They have a nubilous existence in the columns of the political press, and are found among the pious components of the Church But the myth political differs from the myth clerical, both in characteristics and in influence. Apotheosis overtakes the one while on his knees before the people for the accolade of honorable, and for the emoluments of office; while the other arrives at canonization through the servility of the congrega- tion whose admiration he has conquered, and whose conscience he enthralls. This one exerts despotic sway with an arbitrary power; but that one controls while seeming to persuade, and dictates while appearing to obey. The result, however, is in each case the same; the abject flattery and the mental abase- ment of the followers, and the imperious dogmatism or the dissimulating domination of the leaders. Were society ex- hausted by this classification, social progress would be arrested and human interest sacrificed by the conflict of human passions. But happily, it absorbs but a comparatively small portion of the members that compose, or of the thought that stimulates the civilized world. While the few are striving for the oppor- tunity of ambitious elevation, or the many for that of plastic servility; for individual aggrandisement on the one hand, or for common deprivation on the other; the destinies of the race accompany the multitudes that move in the thoroughfares which religion has prepared and civilization has opened for liberal institutions; and which both have designated to be the paths of progress towards the greatest social happiness. A pause in the journey will permit us to examine the digressions of the erratic ones, and to profit either by the disclosure of their errors or by the example of their virtues. Henry Ward Beecher occupies a large space in the public

42 A Alorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., A MORNING AT TUE CHURCH OF THE PILGRIMS. LIFE has its myths as history has; actual and substantial personages, it is true, but so inflated with assumptions, or mag- nified by rumors, that the real mingles with the fabulous, the distinction between the master and the disciple fades, and is lost in the shock of tumultuous mediocrity. They are the peculiar products of no geographical section, nor exclusively the emanation of particular professions or employments. They have a nubilous existence in the columns of the political press, and are found among the pious components of the Church But the myth political differs from the myth clerical, both in characteristics and in influence. Apotheosis overtakes the one while on his knees before the people for the accolade of honorable, and for the emoluments of office; while the other arrives at canonization through the servility of the congrega- tion whose admiration he has conquered, and whose conscience he enthralls. This one exerts despotic sway with an arbitrary power; but that one controls while seeming to persuade, and dictates while appearing to obey. The result, however, is in each case the same; the abject flattery and the mental abase- ment of the followers, and the imperious dogmatism or the dissimulating domination of the leaders. Were society ex- hausted by this classification, social progress would be arrested and human interest sacrificed by the conflict of human passions. But happily, it absorbs but a comparatively small portion of the members that compose, or of the thought that stimulates the civilized world. While the few are striving for the oppor- tunity of ambitious elevation, or the many for that of plastic servility; for individual aggrandisement on the one hand, or for common deprivation on the other; the destinies of the race accompany the multitudes that move in the thoroughfares which religion has prepared and civilization has opened for liberal institutions; and which both have designated to be the paths of progress towards the greatest social happiness. A pause in the journey will permit us to examine the digressions of the erratic ones, and to profit either by the disclosure of their errors or by the example of their virtues. Henry Ward Beecher occupies a large space in the public 18~56.] A Jiforning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 43 eye. At once editor and preacher, he possesses the most pow- erful means of impressing public opinion. With the results of his labors we have nothing now to do; it is to his manner and to the field of those labors that we purpose to address ourselves. Tt certainly is neither strange that a champion in the columns of a newspaper should come to be regarded by his disciples as a Leviathan of literature, nor unaccountable that the most in- trepid of declaimers should become a theological Corypheus. While there is much to sustain the partiality of his friends, there is more to shake the impartiality of their verdict. Both they and he are amenable to an apellate jurisdiction; and at the bar of the public we arraign them for judgment. It is no easy task, that of polemics. No ordinary abilities are required fot its prosecution, and no ordinary use of those required will secure their success. When the orthodox Christ- ian is confronted in controversy by the heretic, the Bible is the arsenal to which both resort for the accustomed weapons of theological warfare; but when conflict is driven between the deist and the divine, the clangor of strange arms startles synods from their repose. Spiritual dogmas are assailed, and revela- tion itself is attacked. Spiritual infallibility and spiritual pride the banners behind which a priesthood intrenches itselfare converted by the enterprising foe into hostile fortresses. Reason is invoked and cogently applied; nature is summoned from her fastnesses to the affray; every stratagem of every art, every argument of every invention; all devices and all considerations compose the panoply of the free-thinker; and saintly mediocrity, at its almost tension, though armed with an orthodox formulary, and with the theology of a ritualist, can rarely be restrained from availing itself of the privilege of a free fight, to count itself out. Not so with Henry Ward Beecher. He enters the arena with the assurance of the victor of a hundred fields. No skirmishing diverts his enemy or fatigues his ~wn strength. He never defends, but always attacks. The first scratch of his pen draws blood, and all his lines flows in an empurpled stream. Positive are all his positions, unrelenting all his antagonisms; platitudes he puts to flight pursued by unnumbered terrors. With him religious controversy is a war to the death, and submission to peace but a truce with the devil. Compromise with error he would un- dertake as soon as the defense of Iscariot, and to temporize with an adversary attempt as soon as to mingle nectar with gall. He despises the arts of the gladiator, though evidently familiar with them. Hardly has he shouted his battle-cry be- 44 A Jtornin~j at the Church of the Pilgrim& [Jan., fore he rushes upon his enemy, and with downright blows and main strength attempts his position. If successful, no chivab rous consideration for the vanquished restrains his triumphal note; if defeated, no artifice is employed to conceal his disappointment. In every event he views things as they are, and is content that others should do so too; and well he may be. The public he writes for is the Beecher public; the eyes it uses are the Beecher eyes. Fragmentary truths cast into the hopper of its conscience come out Beecher; and their incarnate product is idolized as the ground-work of its faith. A reverse, however disastrous, is, therefore, with his devotees, unequal to his disparagement; and though at first humiliated by the con- sciousness of defeat, yet the perverse p~ans of his friends do not fail to be eventually mistaken by him for the evidence of his success. It is surprising that the faculties of the man have not yet succumbed to this frequently-recurring syncope. That they have survived unimpaired, while it is evidence of their strength, should be, to a wise man, the occasion for averting the danger of their future destruction. It is difficult to characterize definitively the style of Mr. Beechers writings; accurately speaking, they have none. Every phase of thought that impresses his mobile mind exacts corresponding peculiarity of expression. The ponderous op- presses the fluent on the same page; the familiar makes intrepid forays into the precincts of the grave, and whole caravans of similes bear their knapsacks over bleak districts of abstract argumentation. But this variety is unattended either by elo- quence of diction or by appositeness of language. His thought involuntarily presents itself to a magazine of words collected without selection, and abundant without arrangement. The result is inevitable. The whole commodity is expended on the instant; and sentences which were intended for repertories of exact dialectics are frequently obscured by an uncertain voca- bulary. Critical precision is out of the question. The habit of his mind, while admirable for invective and adapted to satire, unfits him for the accuracy of exposition, and disquali- fies his logic. Qualities such as these make the debaterthe polemic they destroy. The reader is never elevated by the standard of Mr. Beechers literature; his mind never imbued with the excellence of his performance. The fluent thought which glides on diaphonous wings from garnered stores of classic lore, never lubricates the harsh current of his page: the progress of his work discloses no scholars plastic hand embel- lishing with taste and enriching with learning the products of 1856.] A 3liorning at the Church of the Pilgrirne. 45 his invention. A direct road, and a rough, is the road to his purpose. Awaiting no eminence from which, as from vantage- ground, to commence a journey to which his reader is invited in exploration of the country beyond, lie plunges fearlessly into bog or morass, as may happen in his way, and diligently following the labyrinth of moral depravity, exposes the mon- ster and drives him howling from his lair. The pioneer some- times hears forest-echoes of crashing sounds and sees branches tossed and trees uprooted, and knows the dread tornado. So when the worlds moral wilderness is shaken and doleful voices sound along its aisles the pilgrim takes good heart that Henry Ward Beecher is smiting root and branch. Action is im- pressed on all his productions, whether be hymns his Maker, or excoriates an atheistit is action that predominates. Be- tween it and stagnation there is no middle state for him. Mod- eration would be as much treason in his counsels as in his religion, it would be heresy; and quiet as ruinous to his career as to a planet would be repose in its orbit. Motion is his cha- racteristic. He inspires more by the multiplicity of his thoughts than by their separate value. Isolated, they are weak: it is their aggregate that prevails. Thus distances are inseparable from his reasonings; not that he dwells in his footsteps, or protracts his journey, but that his pace is of the minutest and his route the longest way round. It can not be said that Mr. Beecher is great as a writer. Destitute of language and defi- cient in strength, not eyen beauty of arrangement can be claimed for the preservation of his productions. They are of th~ day, ephemeral; and when the day shall have passed, not less surely will have passed away his writings. It is some- thing strange that this should be so. He is one of a numer- ous family distinguished for their attainments and their genius. Of all his brothers, not one who does not excel him as an author; while some have attained eminence for their terse, nervous, and elegant diction. The muses are walking by the side of his sisters, and with one, genius herself delights to abide. Wonderful family! happy fraternity; among whom intellect has been distributed in largest proportions; by whom it has been most largely endowed; and yet amongst whom Henry Ward Beecher is not the superior. But it is not as an author that our subject excels. His chief distinction is derived from the pulpit, and his peculiar excel- lence is perceptible only when in the midst of his congregation. Reader, have you ever been to church? It is worth ones while to go there; and whether it be to cathedral, chapel, or 46 A iItGrning at the Church of the Pilgrirn~. [Jan., meeting-house, does not matter, so long as there are people in- side, and a man at the desk. One has before him then a scene for abundant observation. Population may be as accurately classified by the pews of the tabernacle, as by the tables of the census. The segregation of the wicked in the aisle, is perhaps as emblematic as the approximation of the godly to the nave. The vicinity of the chancel abounds with those whose carriages choke the narrow way with a fashionable cortege: an eques- trian order of lacquered saints, who would decline the heaven- ward journey, unless performed with the chariots of Tsrael, and the horsemen thereof. Unnoticed sinners throng the sides and attempt religion in the galleries. No royal banners indicate their section: a pedestrian troupe, half-hidden by the display, and quite silenced by the pretensions of their titled brethren; these have entered the wicket-gate, and hopefully tread the steep and rugged path to ~the New Jerusalem. All orders of men assemble to worship in the temple of the living God. A somnambulatory spiritualism carries the merchant to the mart, who is inclining a dreamy ear to the preachers inventory of the treasures above. The reverie of the lawyer relinquishes his case, when the scripture, Agree with thine adversary quickly, whilst thou art in the way with him, startles his in- stincts with fears of escaping clients. The exterior of the poli- tician implies a respectful assent to the text We are all His children, while his mind is assiduously operating a compro- mise of his share in the common filiation of humanity to the father of lies. From the profounds of sleep emerge the genii, who tell down ingots of gold to the wrapt senses of the money- changer. Affluence rustles in its silks; poverty is mindful of its pride. The mistress ogles whom the maid admires; the vagabond reprobates what the hypocrite contemns: while but a precious handful reverently receive the tidings of righteous- ness, temperance, and judgment to come. By far the greatest number of those who frequent churches, seek sanctuary for their sins; few only seek sanctuary from them. These rescue from reproach the hallowed precepts of the Master: those subject to suspicion the professors of His faith. It is very questionable to what amount of sanctity, an exacting scrutiny would entitle a saintly congregation of the modern ingredients. Perhaps the attempt were better omitted, for indeed it would be appalling, were the conventional habi- tation of virtue and religion to be discovered to have become but the occupation of a hypocrisy and the retreat of a rascality that have exhausted the safety of every other device. It was 1856.] A illiorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 47 a saying, as characteristic of its rugged author, as it was appro- priate to his times, that Patriotism . is the last refuge of a scoundreL An easy transition, both from the times and the proverb, might discover to the modern sage both the scoundrel and his refuge in the religious twilight of a New-York church. The fretted roof and groined arch, not ignobly reflect the sub- dued, but gorgeous tints that fall from mullioned windows; luxurious appointments court the senses, and solace the indo- lence of the assenibled worshippers, no discord interrupts their religious repose. The chaunt, the hymn, the organs solemn swell, combine the harmonious opiate, which presides over the somnolence of belle, burgomaster, and beau; and if by chance an unguarded sleeper topples down, his doom, unlike that of Eutychus, extinguishes no life, but only perturbs some nebu- lous body in the system of fashion, whose restoration requires a power as miraculous, as that which restored him of Troas to the dwellers in the third loft. Drowsiness oppresses the effete sensuality, that expects for the homage of its presence the re- ward of salvation. Curiosity excites the pruriency of those, whose youth of calumny it is hoped, may be expiated by the discovery in their age of others as bad as they. Envy rankles, jealousy corrodes. The strains of the last nights revels occu- py the ear that should be intent on the truths of to-day. Even the preacher forsakes his official obligations to simplify for the turgid involutions of an obscure style; and the language which criminal artifices have yet spared to nature, becomes, when wrested to the purposes of an ambitious rhetoric, but anagram- matic of the thought: that, it is to be hoped, is still spared to religion. From such a scene Christianity mournfully recedes. Her primal simplicity shrinks from sacerdotal pomp, and ab- hors even the virtues, when on parade. She withered beneath the austerity of the cloister; she will perish under the frivolity of the church. Early persecutions chastened her children and purified their faith. Later security has acquired for her a popular favor, which even now has converted her porch into the vestibule of fashion, and filled her courts with its devotees. Once the implement of salvation achieved for man, she was afterwards wrested to the purposes of his oppressors. Weary centuries of bigot sway crushed the hopes she had inspired; and mans doom was read in the footprints of superstition. The morning came; the face of the evangelist was pleasant on the hill-tops; the dwellers in the vales received his tidings, and the nations returned to the worship of God. Yet a more for- midable trial is Christianity undergoing now. The gloom of 48 A Morning at the Church of the Pilgrim8. [Jan., the ascetic has given place to the complacency of the commu- nicant; the monks cowl to the mummers mask. The rod with which the priests compelled the affections of nature into universal obedience to a spiritual despotism, when transferred to the divine, blossoms in a dominion established in the flattery of the senses, and in the arrogance of an exclusive caste. Good men wonder at the pact, which chartered profligacy holds with subsidized virtue, and tremble that the Church is the course and the goal of their career. Good men grieve that the mys- teries of the renewed birth have been bartered for those of spiritual progression; and sorrow that the house, which it is written, shall be the house of prayer, has been made by the necrologists of the new dispensation, a den of thieves. When phantoms defeat the truths of revelation; and phantoms dis- place their convictions; when religion is dissolved in the lasci- vious embrace of eternal progression; and sin established in the prospect of punishment eternally postponed; when earth as- sumes the livery of heaven, and His altar smokes with com- placent sacrifice, good men groan with a fearful agony, How long, 0 Lord! holy and true! and earth and its destinies, and the mysterious heavens, and prophetic nature, testify, yet for a little season The application of this picture is not uni- versal. Exceptions there are as emphatic as they are rare. Churches where worship is not a ceremony, nor religion a rhapsody of words: the members of which are more heedful of their neighbors than of their own wants, and the pastors of which are more heedful of their own than of their neighbors itt- firmities: churches whose labor is with the harvest of the world; and whose theology embraces a humanity commensurate with the beneficence of God. Such erect no architectural pile, nor gather beneath the gilded dome; a severe simplicity character- izes their taste; utility directs them; and if the insignia of afflu- ence ever attend their efforts, be sure that their benefits are pro- portionate to the means employed. They are to be found, though at wide intervals, throughout the land. Indeed, our cities are sometimes blessed with their presence. I had even heard, tha such a church there is in Brooklyn, set like a city on a hill, and that its candlestick is supported by Henry Ward Beecher. Now the reputation of a minister is as often the manufacture of his congregation, as the congregation is the product of that of the minister; certain it is, that in this instance, rumor had invested the people with a social efficacy, that reflected the attributed qualities of the pastor, and whether his accommodation to their aggregated idea, or their subjection to his personal mastery 1856.] A 3lorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 49 were the process of conjunction, critical analysis alone could determine, and careful observation alone would disclose. It was a clear cold morning, that which brought me to the Church of the Pilgrims. The angularity of Plymouth Rock had evidently been consulted by the architect who planned it; and as evidently was the rigor of the winter of 1620 the idea attempted in the order of its architecture. A short flight of slippery steps presented a frigid approach to a melancholy ves- tibule. Very precise bricks from very red walls, seemed to stand sentinel on corners which they very sharply turned. Pillars shot up with a swell, seemingly bursting with a con- sciousness of the magnitude of their support; and doors swung with a swagger wide, as if emulating old 0-niness heart, which is popularily believed to have been as open as the day. The interior diminished nothing of the outer effect. Walls of the very plainest gleamed coldly with a finish of the hardest and whitest; and a ceiling impended from above like a suspended sea of ice. An organ sent up its glittering spires from behind a choir, whose ever-recurring trios suggested a search, by a Rule- of-Three process, for some unknown quantity of music. Below them and in front, was seated Mr. Beecher, the archetype in ap- pearance of all that was formal in the walls, cold in the vesti- bule, and angular in the rock. A singular effect was produced by the arrangement of the church. A broad shelf of thickly- peopled gallery, extending quite around, projected declivitously from every side to the central floor; and as the eye dwelt on the assembled mass, either from above or below continuous gradations of amphitheatrical heads seemed to be looking down upon their favorite athlete. In the area in the midst stood an elevated daYs ;a pulpit it could not be called, which had the properties of none. A simple structure furnished a sup- port for the necessary devotional books, and a plain sofa the re- quisite means of personal seat. There he sat, the object of at- tention to allHenry Ward Beecherto the devotee a godto the curious an enigmaambitiously simple and ostentatiously plain; studiously placed by the topography of his church in the focus of vision, and in the centre of thought. The congregation was dense but reverentiaL The occupants of each pew seemed the members of one family; and their multiplication assimi- lated the worship to that of a large family circle. The absence of old men was notable; those present being of the middle age, plain and thoughtful people, whose features active habits had impressed with intelligence, and business had stamped with the spirit of the age. A very large proportion were children; so 4 50 A Morning at the Church of the Pil~ims. [Jan., that one could not but feel, when adjusted in his seat, that he had been received into the embrace of a domestic brotherhood, whose interests were his own, and whose admirations he could not but largely share. There were exceptions, however. Strangers crowded the aisles. Among these, curiosity was the predominating passion; or, when actuated by a better motive, there still was wanting the indefinable impress of the Beecher household. Here an~ there members of the anti-tonsorial fra- ternity exhibited the natural badges of their faith. Mustache and beard presented formidable evidence of the capillary phi- losophy of their owners, while the smooth faces and polled crowns resisted this covert impeachment of their importance, by an arrangement of features which plainly enough spelled that Good )vine needs no bush. But all eyes are now fast- ened on the minister. He has arisen from his seat, and stands before his people. Languor oppresses his action; his voice is inaudible beyond the immediate pews; his energies seem op- pressed with the listlessness which characterizes his posture; and the worship of the day is attempted as if a fatigue. Pro- found stillness reignseach gesture is noted and every look treasured. In a conversational tone, now, he reads the chapter of the day. It is the act of a formalist, and its spirit is per- fanctory. The excellence of the truth appears to inspire not so mtich as gospel sanctions seem to command. Emphasis ne- glected, and distinctness disregarded, the reader makes his wax slovenly through his task; and as the sacred book is close the hearer feels that the Scriptures acquire nothing of beauty at the hands of Mr. Beecher. More feeling, however, is percep- tible in the rendering of the hymn; still thereis a painful ab- sence of animalion, and as the organ clothes the thoughts of the poet in music, the stranger sits in disappointment who had ex- pected an orator in the p reacher. A feeble invitation precedes the act of prayer~io e or elevates the people to God: the first sentence brings God down to the people; and then with au easy peripatetic conversation God is chaperoned through the dwellings, and is informed of the occupations of each: of the wants that should be supplied, and of the blessings that are expected. A more copious catalogue of desirable favors it were dilflcult to imagine. Reforms that should regenerate, succeed amendments that may recompense; and righteousness and reward are strangely coupled. Individual interests take precedence of the general weal; domestic wants dwarf the spiritual; petitions for grace come side by side with solicita- tions for prosperity; and the prayer concludes with an ingenious 1856.] A illiorning at the Church of the Pilgrims. 51 medley of customary invocations, proverbial memorials, and familiar formularies, couched in such phrase, that the absence of originality is barely remarked in a diction with which origin- ality would struggle in vain. But the performance is not with- out its merits. If feeble in utterance its source is pure; if characterized by familiarity it is evidently sincere. Its quiet commencement doubtless summoned devotion to hearts that were more intent on a return to the request than on its zeal, and satisfaction attends the universal consciousness at its close, that what each would have preferred has been duly asked. As expectation is still seated on all countenances, you doubt whether the attraction of the day has yet appeared; and it is true that it has not. The uneasy motion of an audience set- tling to repose, agitates for a moment, and deep attention fixes every eye. Swaying figures grow erect in front, and from be- hind anxious faces incline to catch the coming words. Now he stands up, and his utterance is for all. Inert, as if some veteran of powers too often tested to challenge fame by show, he stands, and by an admirable indifference, secures the general interest. At seeming random he presents a text, the one most adapted to his hearersthe best suited to himself; and drawl- ingly rehearsing it, with an impromptu pause, languishes into relation with his hearers. Now flows smooth the current of his thoughts. From untrodden regions he presents unusual considerations, and hastens their pertinency by epigrammatic application. Then abandoning his position he moves with practised tread along the ways of familiar life, and enters upon scenes in the description of which he employs a thousand pre sent athies; and, armed with them, descends with ac- cumulate orce, from unexpected quarters, upon his theme. The minds, that at first, though baffled, yet continued their explorations, first glow with uncertain light, then flash with a sudden illuniination of the subject; others follow with faculties bewildered as if by the members of a riddle, and when most inclined to give it up, are startled into place again by a quiet solution of their doubts. The voice of the speaker has no at- tractive properties; it is not heedful, even of ordinary care; but adhering to the inner mouth or escaping through the pas- sages of the nose, whether it rises from one or descends from the other, its cadences are inaudible, and its modulations nasal. Yet, there are times, when, indignant at oppression or stirred against titled meanness, he escapes from his lethargy, and the full swelling tones of denunciation are in your ear, and the thunderer is before your eyes. These are the electrical 52 A Horning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., shocks of his sermon. The repose of the narrative is assailed, and sudden lightning reveals a landscape like Brulah, or an abyss like the valley of death. Now commences a scene un- paralleled in Christendom. An excitable mind has fired at thought of human wrong, and a genius of exquisite susceptibil- ity has stripped to the task of avenging justice. By a few master-strokes the criminal is denuded, and a storm of invec- tive beats upon the incarnate vice. Analogies fail, and com- parisons are useless in the deleviation of the sequel. Fast gathering epithets heap opprobriumsarcasm gleams with a lurid light from accumulating masses of ludicrous illustration ridicule blightssatire blastsand the prostrate enemy, crushed and helpless, receives from his inexorable victor, what sheer exhaustion has alone left himderision and contempt. The ocean in a storm were no inapt illustration of the congregation, the while. Eyes reflect each varying passion which incites the preacherrigid muscles and fixed features affirm his indigna- tionunrestrained satisfaction attends with decided -manifesta- tions every reverberating blow; and as pathos subdues, or raillery inflames, tears suffuse or laughter convulses the gene- ral countenance. Such is Henry Ward Beecher, the Divine simple in mannerpregnant in matter, and triumphant in effect. His congregation has been formed upon his model. The useful is their rule of life; and whether dignified by com- miseration of human woe they adorn the mart or, wriggling with the ministerial facetiousness of the pulpit they degrade the churchusefulness is their objectthe pursuit of which pre- serves them from buffoonery, and the accomplishment of which preserves them to respect. And so in this every-day life, where the laugh abounds will be found the joyous disciple of Beecher; and where wretchedness weeps will be gathered the hearts of his congregation. But a more careful measure is to be applied to the intellec- tual man. His mind, though nervous, is not of a high order. His thoughts do not expand outward synthetically, by gene- ralization, but penetrate inward by contraction and analysis. You vainly look for the symmetrical chain of cause and effect, forged at a heat, in Titanic stithy. Incomplete reasonings lodge uncomfortably in asthmatic sentences; broken images are hurled, confusedly, into paragraphs, like broken candypal- atable, to be sure, but broken. Disconnected thoughts chase each other in the routine of a kaleidoscope, and, with its bril- haney and fractional ideas, make experimental excursions, only to be withdrawn, and replaced by fractions of others, the rela 1856.] A Kornin~ at the Church of the Pilgrim~M. 53 tive parts of which are not yet born. He exemplifies the extreme of trituration of mind, and manifests its obvious advantages. He is sorely deficient in language. His vocabu- lary is limited not only, but so inopportune, that verbal neces- sities induce the use of barbarisms. It is this deficiency, per- haps, which accounts for his recourse to allegories. They frequent every part of his sermon. In the mid~t of an argu- ment, between consecutive sentences, and, sometimes, even intersecting one, the figure is seized and pursued with avidity. Though, by this means, his sermon becomes bizarre, yet it by no means loses its strength. Order is disregarded, but material is abundant. Method there is none; but each sen- tence has point, and everywhere, interspersed with maxims, proverbs, and quaint sayings, float gay images of holiday life, or sombre pictures of sadder hue. With all this, however, there is associated neither dignity of manner nor elevation of thought. Household objects suggest similes; daily occurrences furnish anecdote, and the thought which, at its induction, was worthy of the solemnity of the occasion, is soon overtaken by figures, wrenched into attitudes so grotesque or distorted to purposes so perverse, that gravity can be predicated as little by the minister as by the mountebank, and is observed as lit- tle by the congregation as by an audience of the Ethiopian Minstrels. Where burlesque is employed by the pulpit, and salvation is sought amid transports of fun, the scene is more dramatic than religious, and the disciple descends to the actor. And this were without redeeming features, did not an ever- present susceptibility of the goodness of God, unmistakably characterize the thoughts of the preacher, and chasten his con- ception, even at its utmost levity. It is when, forsaking his monotonous under-tone, he launches eye and voice upon a tempestuous sea, that the social affections sway, and the ten- derest emotions guide his utterance to the index of a warm and compassionate heart. Indeed, strong domestic attach- ments are the basis, not only of the character of the man, but of the energies which he displays. And so, families surround him. Children gather in fraternal groups, and the whole people sit in affiliating rows. All hearts are moved by the genius of the place, and when the affecting scripture is ren- dered in melody, over infants, at the baptismal font, Suffer lit- tle children to come unto me and forbid them not, the suffused eye seemingly sees how He took them np in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them. It would be difficult to conceive a power of describing 54 A Morning at the Church of the Pilgrims. [Jan., natural scenery less than that possessed by Mr. Beecher. His gulfs are all black, all his chasms yawning. His tempests have black jaws, as death has, and the coloring of his clouds is uniformly black. Whenever his imagery, in any degree, depends on natural phenomena, the same fault occurs. Famine he makes to suck up a harvest, and he stoutly calls on his hearers to hover over a thought. It were bet- ter with him had he more confidence in the native strength of the substantive. He seems to be unconscious of its inde. pendent power, and, frequently, a pure and sturdy Saxon noun is so encumbered with adjuncts that the idiom of the language is smothered in foreign importations. Adjectives he should dismiss, and, instead of transfixing every emotion with a descriptive epithet, it would be better were the task of de. scription to be relinquished to a simple statement of the emo- tion. Such are some of the Beecher peculiarities of manner and of style. But, above and beyond these, are the notable peculiarities of the man. It is quite a mistake to apply to the measure of his faculties either the graduated scale of verbal criticism or the conven- tional rules of a careful rhetoric. His contempt for both does not seemingly affect the despotic influence with which he sways the common mind, an influence secured by a compli- ance with none of the canons, but in opposition to them, and preserved not by a politic toleration of popular errors, but, by an uncompromising war upon them. It is not so much the principle which he condemns, as it is its representatives, whom he denounces. Error, to be sure, he explodes; but sin he attacks. Heresy he confounds by argu- ment, or pursues with reproaches; but unmeasured indigna- tion he heaps upon hypocrisy, and cant provokes his most potent ire. It can not be said, that he preaches religion; at least, that religion which recalls but to release, and reclaims but for a Sabbath, the sinner of the week. His business seems to be with man as he is, not as he has been, or is to be; not with him, only, as with principles starched as the occa- sional holiday suit in which he presents his Sunday side for a seven days lustration; but, with him, at all times, everywhere, in all his duties, habits, and pursuits. He evidently intends that his followers shall expect from him no transcendental splurges from stations in the clouds, but just the stated preaching of the Gospel, on Brooklyn Heights. Crusades he rejects from the artillery of the Church; for he abominates long journeys, in quest of regeneration. In his own phrase, 1856.] A .Mornimg at the Church of the Pilgrims. 55 he strives to make Christ usable, and, with suitable instruc- tions, prescribes Him for all occasions. An eccentric critic of the last age, surmised the chief pleasure of the angels to be in the exquisite sense of the ludicrous. Perhaps the evidence is not quite conclusive, that what was but conjecture, in the last age, is doctrine in this; but, whether addressed to the tastes of a spiritual or to those of an incarnate presence, cer- tain it is, that the humorous so abounds in the Church of the Pilgrims as to satisfy the drollest, whether of angels or men. Architectural simplicity he has studied, with an evident view to effect~ The vaulted roof; the stately pillar, the frieze and the entablature, ill accord with the trenchant sarcasm, the familiar raillery, the plain speech and secular manner of Mr. Beecher. He is purely a stump-preacher. His message is assumed to be derived immediately from heaven, and is delivered without intermission, to men. Pomp depresses, and ceremony disarms him. With the skies above, and the goodly earth ~bout him, he thunders as from a natural tribune. But, swathed in canonicals, and perched at a modern pulpits height, the vigor of the man would succumb to artifice, and grow torpid under the tyranny of form. A cathedral would be his coffinits gorgeous drapery the funeral trappings of his mental obse- quies. He is the man of his generation. Sixty years since, Henry Ward Beecher would have driven nails into the fabric of society; sixty years hence society will drive nails into him. He is doing the work of his generation, unprompted by the past, disconnected from the future. An able-bo~ied, energetic, intrepid man, inspired by benevolence and guided by reason, he batters down presumption and supports merit; strips hypocrisy and celebrates virtue, and so will he continue to the end, and be seen no more. The grief of friends, the commiseration of the good, the affliction of those whom he comforted, and the regrets of those whom he endowed, will more fittingly chant his re~juiescat in pace, and his memory will be interred with his bones. But, it is no light burden the work of a generation like ours. The greatest mind alone is inadequate to it. A heart of commensurate dimensions is required also; and even then, when faculties and feelings conspire, their product is as nothing if not fortified by physi- cal energy. At times when the world leaned upon science and rested upon discovery, speculation was the implement of progress. But philosophy is no longer a motive power; the student no longer the hero. Ours is the age of action. The knowledge of the past has been pressed into the service of the 56 A Aforning at the Church of the Pilgrim8. [Jan., present, and at a wonderful pace is modern invention urging society along. Mind, to be felt, must be moving. Brains, with~t legs, are useless. It is not the calibre of the ord- nance, but the impetus of the ball, that sends it crashing along the path of destiny. Of each department of every pur- suit, in all occupations, is this true, whether the Senate, the Bar, the Church. It is sad to reflect, that the upward of thought has been so utterly relinquished for its onwardsad to see that the onward of man is not necessarily his upward also. And yet, how necessary to duration is the True, a wiser than philosophy has taught; and that progress, without endurance, is vain, requires no philosophy to teach. The great practical lesson for this age yet to learn, is, that national security depends on national faith; not a subservience to dogmas and creeds, nor superstitious observance of fasts and ceremonies, but an intelligent apprehension of the inseparable relation between man and God, and of the impossibility of its violation without human disaster. Though this lesson is to be learned not altogether from the Church, yet there should it be earliest inculcated, and there its earliest rudiments be taught. A nobler work can not be conceivednor one in the achievement of which immortal honors can be more nobly won: not prosecuted by the feeble light of traditional faith, nor contracted to the feeble propor- tions of missal and ritual, but, expanding with the generous impulses of a just enthusiasm, emanating from conscious affi- nity with Deity, and guided by a reason equally divine. Republican France, by the introduction of Reason into her churches, became the atheistical Republic of the last century: it would be singular, indeed, were Republican America, by the exclusion of Reason from her churches, to become the atheisti- cal Republic of this. 1850.1 ilfaddalena. 57 MADDALENA. MOTHER! my breath grows shorterI scarce can whisper now; Dark shades weigh down mine eyelidsthe death-damps on my brow. I know that I am dying: yet not for that I moan But I must leave thee in the world, a widow and alone. Oh! weep not for me, mother: no sting is in the dart I go where theres oblivion for this poor broken heart. Tis hard to leave thee, mother; but oh! twere worse to stay, And see thee watch me, daily, wither and pine away. Hush! hush !you never scorned meyour breast was not defiled With sheltering sad caressing your sinful stricken child. God left you to me, mother, when he took all beside, To lead my erring spirit back to the Crucified. Through thy pale lips, my mother, He spoke those words to me, One heart on earth hath pardoned Neither condemn I thee. All through the shsineflil daylight, all through the sleepless night, I heard the angels whispering, I saw them clothed in white; They stood around thee, mother, to aid thee, by Gods grace, And gazed, like loving children, upon thy gentle face. Again I see them dimly, sad seem to hear them say That He who has forgiven, has sent for me away Sent his own holy angels for one so vile as I, To clothe me in white rsiment and bear me to the sky. Shed, then, no tear, my mother, though we so early part: I go where there is pardon for this poor broken heart. Hark !if you meet him, mother, tell him the love T gave Died not until this body was cold within the grave; Tell him that I forgave him my weary, wasted life, And prayed he might be happy with her he made his wife. Yet tell him not: the message might roll back memorys tide She never harmed me, motherI would not curse his bride. Hold me still closer to thee: all things are fading now, Except the holy angelsI saw one kiss thy brow. Let me, too, touch it, mother. It is not hard to die When such as these are waiting for sinner such as I I Joy, joy and hope, my mother: a little while we part, To meet where sin nor sorrow can come to break the heart. S. W. C.

1850.1 ilfaddalena. 57 MADDALENA. MOTHER! my breath grows shorterI scarce can whisper now; Dark shades weigh down mine eyelidsthe death-damps on my brow. I know that I am dying: yet not for that I moan But I must leave thee in the world, a widow and alone. Oh! weep not for me, mother: no sting is in the dart I go where theres oblivion for this poor broken heart. Tis hard to leave thee, mother; but oh! twere worse to stay, And see thee watch me, daily, wither and pine away. Hush! hush !you never scorned meyour breast was not defiled With sheltering sad caressing your sinful stricken child. God left you to me, mother, when he took all beside, To lead my erring spirit back to the Crucified. Through thy pale lips, my mother, He spoke those words to me, One heart on earth hath pardoned Neither condemn I thee. All through the shsineflil daylight, all through the sleepless night, I heard the angels whispering, I saw them clothed in white; They stood around thee, mother, to aid thee, by Gods grace, And gazed, like loving children, upon thy gentle face. Again I see them dimly, sad seem to hear them say That He who has forgiven, has sent for me away Sent his own holy angels for one so vile as I, To clothe me in white rsiment and bear me to the sky. Shed, then, no tear, my mother, though we so early part: I go where there is pardon for this poor broken heart. Hark !if you meet him, mother, tell him the love T gave Died not until this body was cold within the grave; Tell him that I forgave him my weary, wasted life, And prayed he might be happy with her he made his wife. Yet tell him not: the message might roll back memorys tide She never harmed me, motherI would not curse his bride. Hold me still closer to thee: all things are fading now, Except the holy angelsI saw one kiss thy brow. Let me, too, touch it, mother. It is not hard to die When such as these are waiting for sinner such as I I Joy, joy and hope, my mother: a little while we part, To meet where sin nor sorrow can come to break the heart. S. W. C. 58 The Chronicleg of Per~epoUs. [Jan., THE CHRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE~ YEARS OF THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN~FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. BY MR. QUIGG. OHAPTKR FIRST. HOW I WYU~T I2~O THE OOTT~THY. SHORTLY after my admission to the bar, I committed the common imprudence of getting married. My practice never having been large enough to support me as a bachelor, the addition of a wife was one of those vrovi. dential arrangements which fit a man as Tom Callender s wig fitted his friend John Gilpin. What would not support one was, of course, a potential Cal- ifornia for two, and the possibilities. As I am about to withdraw the veil from five years of my life, it may, perhaps, be proper to mention at the outset that my name is Quigg, and that I have been distinguished, from my youth, by an amiable temper, severe industry, and a pro- found confidence in my fellow-men. In fact, if I ha4 ever possessed a fortune large enough to permit me to do good without serious personal inconvenience~ I flatter myself I should have been a distinguished philanthropist. Indeed the Quiggs have always been more or less distinguished. They are a very old, and exceedingly respectable family. My grandfather was a major in the militia, and my great- aunt Deborah married an alderman. I have been told, too1 that one of my ancestors wrote verses. But the family is very tender upon that head, and I could never learn his name. I believe it is not unusual for folk to commence a story at the wrong end. Most commence life at that place, and the story of a life or part of a life might naturally be expected to follow so general an example. I should have a very good apology to offer too; for in fact, from the first moment I aban- doned the limits of civilization, as comfortably walled around

58 The Chronicleg of Per~epoUs. [Jan., THE CHRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE~ YEARS OF THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN~FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. BY MR. QUIGG. OHAPTKR FIRST. HOW I WYU~T I2~O THE OOTT~THY. SHORTLY after my admission to the bar, I committed the common imprudence of getting married. My practice never having been large enough to support me as a bachelor, the addition of a wife was one of those vrovi. dential arrangements which fit a man as Tom Callender s wig fitted his friend John Gilpin. What would not support one was, of course, a potential Cal- ifornia for two, and the possibilities. As I am about to withdraw the veil from five years of my life, it may, perhaps, be proper to mention at the outset that my name is Quigg, and that I have been distinguished, from my youth, by an amiable temper, severe industry, and a pro- found confidence in my fellow-men. In fact, if I ha4 ever possessed a fortune large enough to permit me to do good without serious personal inconvenience~ I flatter myself I should have been a distinguished philanthropist. Indeed the Quiggs have always been more or less distinguished. They are a very old, and exceedingly respectable family. My grandfather was a major in the militia, and my great- aunt Deborah married an alderman. I have been told, too1 that one of my ancestors wrote verses. But the family is very tender upon that head, and I could never learn his name. I believe it is not unusual for folk to commence a story at the wrong end. Most commence life at that place, and the story of a life or part of a life might naturally be expected to follow so general an example. I should have a very good apology to offer too; for in fact, from the first moment I aban- doned the limits of civilization, as comfortably walled around 1856.] The Ch~onides of Per8e2olis. 59 by the boundaries of city life, I have never been exactly cer~ tam which end was foremost. However, I have begun at the beginning, and will endeavor to preserve in some sort the natural order of those remarkable events which I am about to relate. My name you are already acquainted with. I have, there. fore, only to inform you that, to the best of my information and belief, I am the son of my father. My parents were good and happy people; happier in nothing, however, as will be readily admitted, than in having so excellent a son as myself. This brief account of my birth, parentage, and early educa- tion, ought, I think, to entitle me to the entire confidence of my readers. By way of securing me in honest and virtuous courses, my revered parents determined that I should be bred to the law. If they could have made the law bread to me, they would have done a better thing. The summer before I was married, I was taken with the afflicting distemper which usually results in that species of moral suicide. I fell in love: deeply, terribly.over head and ears in love. The great distance one has to fall into that abyss, the rapid- ity of the descent, and the severe shock sustained, make it quite a miracle how any survive the accident. Death, however, seldom intervenes. A brain.fever is usually the worst of the consequences. In the summer of 184, then, I, Clarkson Quigg, Esq., at- torney at law and solicitor in chancery, fell in love. It was a violent attack. The faculty gave me up, and my best friends considered my case hopeless. Early in the month of July the object of my pious adoration went up the Hudson River to spend the summer. Of course I went with her. A sultry summer-day; a crowded steamer; the glorious Hudson. Solitude in the crowd. Alone with the goddess of my dreams. Seductive picture! We talked sentiment beneath the Palisades. Our souls were elevated to a heavenly communion by the grandeur of Antho- nys Nose. Ah! if Providence had only granted us, at that moment, a small boat all alone by ourselves, a faithful dog, and a German flute, together with a guitar for my divine Julia, the mea- sure of our earthly felicity had been full. Wanting, however, those sublime accessories, we nourished our young romance of 60 The Chronicle8 of Per8epolis. [Jan., passion with the fuel of imagination, and got as far away from reality and common-sense as the most exacting novelist could reasonably require from two people in our situation. It was, however, the place, that old house among the trees where we soj ourned all thosesunny days of summer-time which finished us; quenched the last lingering spark of worldly wis- dom, and fooled us into marriage. There were mothers, sisters, brothers, cousins there with us. But I will not linger over them. That sort of people are always in the way of lovers; always just where they are not wanted. I leave them, as I wished oftentimes they would leave mealone; since I am not engaged in recalling the sor- row of that time, but the sweet infatuation of our youthful ecstasy of love. About four miles north of Hyde Park then, and on the banks of the Hudson, was the scene of those events which gave a color to all the after-purpose of our lives. A Wide lane led up to the house from the Old French road On either side the lane towering giant-like in the air, rose up some of the finest locust trees I have ever seen. Be- fore the house especially, were five of enormous size, and so old the oldest neighbors said they were great trees in their childhood, and were probably remains of the original forest which there bordered the river. The house itself was a long, narrow, one-story-and-a-half Dutch mansion of the olden time of New-York. Quaint and comfortable, it squatted behind its trees, and as the smoke rose up from its chimney, seemed like a comfortable old broad- sterned burgher seated in his bowerie The eaves came down at the back of the house almost to the ground, and in front a broad piazza stretched its comfortable length. A lovely reach of meadow-land lay behind, the house,through which a brook made its way wit h many strange twists and windings. This brook came down by way of a rocky hill which lay a little to the south, and formed in its descent a hundred tiny cascades. Amongst these were some very pic- turesque; and from the summit of the rocky elevation a single waterfall, worthy of the name, took its first leap of some twenty feet downwards to the valley. When a storm came to swell the brook, the waterfall could be heard at the house; and, in- deed, at such times it made quite a grand and imposing figure, and lifted up its variable voice almost to the roar of a cat- aract. A succession of rude steps in the rocks, partly natural, 1856.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 61 partly the work of man, led up the hill by the brookside till at the last step you came suddenly upon the sweetest possible little lake lying, like a forest mirror, framed among the old trees, and reflecting the fantastic shadows of the moving clouds from its waveless surface. Here, here, we, alas !we, Julia and myself; used to sit the livelong summers day, and indulge in choice selections from the British poets. How every tender passage, every soft quotation took a particular and touching application, and re- ceived an eloquent commentary from the language of the eyes, do ye not know, 0 lovers? The shadows of the forest were around us. The sunlight glinted through. The lake lay at our feet, reflecting tremu- lously the fleecy clouds as they sailed across the sky like ships upon the sea. The trees above spread their broad green arms, and the little leaves clapped their hands. The birds, loving fools like ourselves, twittered and giggled with mischie- vous delight to see us getting into the impracticable labyrinth of love, and rushing madly into the jaws of the Minotaur of matrimony. And why do I relate these things? Why do I mention the lake, the forest, the old Dutch farm-house? Alas! it is because having been so happy there, all our fondest memories and brightest fancies became foolishly and fatally connected with the idea of a country life. The country alone would satisfy us. There the sky was bluest. There the birds sang sweetest. There the very silence was eloquent, as with the tongues of angels. The calm and quiet of the soul had there its birth. Love was cradled there, and lay so sweet all canopied with bowers. The day-spring of the soul, the hearts sunrise, and the opening gates of Paradise, with all that lies beyond the mornings doors where, paved with sunbeams, to eternal bliss the road leads on for everallall commenced with babblings of green fields. That road, in ecstasy of hope and loving prophecy of endless joys succeeding, we were to tread down to a remote old age; and always travel it by way of th~ rural districts. And we tried it; poor deluded creatures. All that thing began up there; or, rather, all those three thingsmoonshine, matrimony, and a country life. It began up there. Up in the country. Up by the water- fall. Up by the lake upon the mountain-top. Further up stillin the morning clouds, the sunny, misty, rosy morning clouds of youth and love. 62 The C.4ronicle8 of PereepoZie. [Tan., Therefore we determined to be married, and as soon as pos- sible afterwards to move into the country. We resolved to retire from the horrid city, to leave that place of crime, cram, conventionalities, frippery, and falsehood, and go away to the paradisaical peace and purity of the country. CHAPTE1~ SNOO~D. EXODUS. SUMMER went. Autumn came. The leaves grew red. We were as green as ever. We were married. I had a terrible head-ache the next morning. My brother. in-law was indelicate enough to refer to the arrack.punch of the bridal evening; but, I felt convinced that it was nothing but nervous susceptibility. Our first season in town was as brilliant as our prospects were gloomy; and, by spring, rich in all the new polkas, but terribly low in cash, we began to think seriously of the future. Hoyle says: When you are in doubt, play trumps. Now, the country is the ver~y ace of trumps, for all new-mar- ried folks, whose tastes, habits, and antecedents are at war with the state of their finances. Added to this was the memory of that little garden of bliss, where we had passed the summer preceding our espousals. Of course I bought a farm. To the character of a landed proprietor, I proposed adding my professional one, and tilling the rt~gged soil of law, as well as the arable land of agriculture. Coke and Selden, Wirt and Emmet, Story and Webster were beautifully mixed up, in my imagination, with wheat and ruta-bagas, compost and sum- mer-fallow. I proposed opening, for my neighbors, a new vista, through which their astonished gaze should be directed to unheard-of triumphs, in the art of farming; whilst, at the same time, they were to be ,charmed, in the county court, out of their usual stolidity, by the magic of my eloquence. I fore- saw much profit, and great fame from this combination of industrial and testhetic effort. How I succeeded in the practice of the law, I shall relate in another chapter, in which will be found a full report of the great case of Bivins vs. Smithers. I very soon heard of a placea charming farm, near the 1856j The Chronicles of Persepolis. 63 thriving village of Persepolis, in the kingdom of New- Jersey. I went to see it. The manner of travel was by a railroad, laid with the flat rail; which is a flat bar of iron spiked upon strips of wood. These bars frequently curl up before the wheels, and shoot through the cars with the velocity of a musket-ball. The chances, therefore, of being pinned to the roof of the car, like a specimen beetle, afforded an agreeable variety to the usual dullness of railroad travel. I reached the place. It was springthe month of April. The mud was two feet deep; and such mud, a dirty red, every touch of which stained like red paint. II had nothing to wear but a pair of patent-leather boots; and, so accoutred, started at sunrisethe first sunrise I ever recollect to have seen. And if that was a fair specimen of the luminary, at that unchristian hour, II am free to confess, I have no desire ever to attend his lever a second time. We walked over the farm. I thought I must follow, because a great fellow in cowhide boots, led the way, and I was ashamed to play cockney, and back out. My inspection of the farm and my patent-leathers, finished about the same time, and my first purchase, in the village of Persepolis, was a pair of high lows, to return to the city in. On my return, a deluge of questions awaited me; all, how- ever tending to this: Was I not delighted with the farm? Of course I was. We had, all of us, made up our minds, before- hand, to be delighted with it, and I was not going to show the white feather first. But a mere assent would not do. I must go into ectasies, to please them, and I went into ectasies. I represented it as a paradise; as the magic garden of Solomon, which Shedaud the Sultan saw, and the splendor of which surpassed that of Eden. The Gardens of GulI think I com- pared it to those; certainly, I should have done sowere nothing to it; and it only awaited my darling little wife, to play the Eve there, to bring back Eden to a work-day world. The papers signed, sealed, and delivered, which constituted us landed proprietors, we boxed the furniture, and embarked upon the Central Snake-Head l~ailroad, for Persepolis the new. It was the first day of April. Dii avertite omen I The day was one of those spring days, half-oppressive, half-chilly. You sweltered in the sunshine, and froze in the shade. A cold dinner, at the County Hotel, did little to revive our drooping spirits. But all were on tip-tQe as soon as dinner 64 like Ckronicle8 of Persepolis. [Jan., was over, to look out for the new carriage, our new carriage, a miracle of coach building, a rockaway, with an aqua marine colored body and silver mountings. Directly, a farm-wagon, drawn by a pair of hQrses which I recognized as mine, drove up to the door, at which, in too brief a time, Tom Steele, the coachman, appeared, to announce to the ladies that he had come to take them up to the house. The stupid rascal, the lazy rascal, had brought the farm- wagon, to keep from muddying the carriage. They gazed, but who shall paint that gaze? Not I: it was enough to see it. There was no help for it, howeVer. It was getting late, and into the wagon we all bundledtwo gentlemen, three ladies and four servants. All Persepolis was at the windows and doors, to see us pass, on our way to Rouge- mont for so we had christened our mansion, from its situ- ation upon the top of a red-shale hill. We reached it, at last, under a severe fire of sighs and groans, mingled with an occasional exclamation, from the male members of the family, the reverse of pious. The exterior of our house I shall, perhaps, hereafter describe. But, at that moment, we thought only of the interior, and our thoughts were not all, happy. Built by a queer old bachelor who had no more notion of convenience than one of his horses, that interior signally failed to realize the promise of the rather pompous exterior, with its pillars, porticoes, and other archi- tectural frippery. In fact, it consisted of a kitchen, wash-room, dairy, a use- lessly large hall, two parlors of the same size, and six chambers of different sizes. From the ball, doors opened into every thing; so that every point of the compass was represented by a crack, and, like John Gordon Notts renowned castle, there was not a room which was not a rheumatic. The principal chamber was large enough for a theatre, and the parlors were barns. That night we slept upon our arms. Worn out with pulling and hauling; searching for every thing, and finding nothing, we slept where we fell, and woke, next morning, to struggle again, amid the general wreck. Crates, barrels, boxes, trunks, and hampers formed pyramids of terror in every room. Boxed sofas and pianos; chairs, curiously bandaged about the legs, like beggars, with rags and straw; half-opened packages, and crockery, in perilous places, all lay strewn in most admired disorder and discomfort. And so, feeding, for the most part, upon cold bread and 1856.] The Chr~rnicles of Persepolis. 65 meat, we gradually emerged from chaos into that state of semi- purgatory which ensues upon the putting up of bedsteads and putting down of carpets, miscalled putting to rights. But I will not dwell upon the horrors of that first month. With the succinctness of a diary, I will sketch our first year in country-quarters. At seven AM. we breakfasted. At twelve we dined, and at eight P.M. we went to bed, thoroughly tired of Rouge- mont, the country generally, ourselves in particular, and all the world at once. Let me recall the principal events of that dismal year, events, however trifling in themselves, huge and well-defined as snow-crowned mountains to us. First the breakfast-table was injured in its legs by the jour. ney. Bullfinch, our dog insisted upon crossing beneath it, instead of going around it as any well-bred dog would have had the sense to do. Bullfinch knocked out the lame leg as a matter of course, and down came the table. Coffee-pot went into mother-in-laws lap, hot water into mine. Wife with divided interest grabbed at mother with one hand, and hus- band with the other, which naturally brought us all in a sin- gularly mixed condition on top of the table. Total destruc- tion of chany, and a curtain lecture on doo-s. Second. Bought forty hens with the place. At least they were represented to me by the owner as the female of the do- mestic fowl. But to save our lives we can not find more than two eggs for breakfast. Two eggs among five of us. Not much to crow over there. Old Tom Steele, our coachman, a very fine, reverend, sensi- ble old nigger he appears to be too; says the hens steal their nests. Very likely, or else what becomes of the eggs? Forty hens must lay more than two eggs a day. And in so respect- able a neighborhood as ours it can not be possible that any body interferes with our hen-roost. Old Tom, who is as great a hunter as he is pious and trust- worthy, says, however, that there are a great many coons about. Its mos adiculous, says that dusky philosopher, how fond dem varmink be of egg. Eat all he see. I should like to catch a varmint at it. Decidedly we must have a coon-hunt, and also search for the stolen nests immediately. This becomes the more necessary as the scarcity of eggs has given rise to serious discontent in the family. The woman folk have even indulged in some ex- 5 66 The Chronicles of Persepolis. [Jam7 ceedingly foolish insinuations, as for instances that there are two-legged coons about. Just as if any one ever heard of a twoiegged coon. Bought a barrel of cider. No lock to the cellamdoor, but consider it perfectly safe. Tom Steele, and Judy the cook, being, from their conversation, very high-toned temperance people. I coukint even induce either of them so much as to taste it,in order to give an opinion of its quality. Opened, at his solicitation, an account with Mr. Vandelars, thc grocer. Custom, and the cultivation of neighborly relationship, being much more an object with him than cash. Really, the people of this place seem exceedingly kind. Mr. Gulf, the blacksmith, also desires my custom. He don1t care when I pay him! Has then the golden age returned? are we in Arcady the blest? And does it find its first development in the kingdom of New-Jerseys and village of Persepolis? After a day or two, Sam Bivins the butcher, found ns. Bought lamb. Bivins did not seem to have a great variety. Our leg and another were all he had to stand upon. Prom- ised us beeg however, in a few days, as Mr. Dyscamp, our next neighbor, is going to kill a beef, and had promised him a quarter. Gradual improvement in the poultry. Three eggs for breakfast. At this rate we shall get on finely. An increase of one egg a week, will be more than four dozen in a year, and we shall have more than we know what to do with. Four hens, however, reported missing. That excellent col- ored person, Tom Steele, says he met them last night in the woods, and has no doubt they have made their nests in the trees, Cos dar wing was not clipped. Widow Vanstyne has a little farm back of ours. Her son, a fine ingenuous youth, came up the other morning and brought with him two strange-looking little birds. They had very long beaks, made a queer caw-cawing noise unlike fowls in general, and were entirely without feathers. Archie Yanstyne says his mother heard we had trouble with our hens, and sent him over with these. They belong to a remarkable species, and are called the Chinese fowl. Archie did not know whether they were Shanghais or not; but was certain they crowed wonderfal. The good woman has only four herselg and it is very kind in her to let us have half. I gave Archie therefore two dollars apiece for them. They 1856.] The Chronicles of .Persepolis. 67 say this kind of fowl are remarkable layers; so if we only get them along, we shall have no more trouble about eggs. One comfort at least we have, and that is Judy the cook. She is a perfect household treasure. An excellent plain cook, and one of the soberest and most moral persons in the world. I am sorry to say Judy has appeared quite unwell for several days. That venerable negro, also~ Tom Steele, is decidedly under the weatheix Both complain of much pain in the head, and occasional sickness at the stomach. I suggested a little stimu- lus to both, but they repulsed the idea of liquor with virtuous horror. To-day cooks indisposition increased to such an alarming degree that she had to go to bed, and my dear wife had to~ commence her housekeeping in reality bycooking dinner. We ate it; ahem! And really, considering it was the first leg of lamb she had ever seen in its natural state, and the first potatoes to which she had been introduced in the condition of natives, it was a remarkable dinner. Tom Steele, that respectable, pious, ancient colored, person, was unaccountably absent all day. Rained cats and dogs. Mud six inches deep, and of the consistency of glue. No Tom Steele; no body to do any thing. Begun my agricultural experiences in earnest, by milk. ing the cows, an operation which, I regret to say, did not re- sult in a flattering success. The old fools would not stand still a minute. I got on the right side, and cried, mooly; mooly; shew, shoo now 1 all the time; but they only frisked their tails and kicked up their heels the more, the more I halloed to them, till I was obliged to give up the milking as a bad job; and content myself with feeding and bedding down the cat- tle, and locking up the chicken-coop. No Tom Steele to be seen yet. Towards nightfall, Judy came down stairs, and went about her work in a very strange, wild manner. Directly she went into the cellar; and upon her return, her eyes rolled terribly. Indeed, she barely reached the kitchen, when she fell upon the floor. Rushed to her assistance; and endeavored to learn what ailed her; but could get no other answer than 0 my head! 0 my head! My wife suggested brain-fever; and all the women were urgent to have the doctor sent for. Brother-in-law, Tom, and 68 like Chronicles of Persepolis. [Jan., I helped the sufferer up stairs. As we came down, Tom whis- pered: Drunk as the 1 And it was so. Heaven shuts the nose at it and the moon winks. Judy drunk! My confidence in humanity is becom- ing undermined. Next morning Caleb Shultz, a near neighbor, and testy old bachelor, called over. I took him to see my Chinese fowls, and described the singular properties of the breed. Caleb eyed me for some time with a puzzled air. Chinese fdwls ! said Caleb From the Central Flowery Land, said I. Shanghais 1 said Caleb. Wonderful birds, said I. Calebs face flushed. I did not like to remark it, thinking he might be subject to rush of blood to the head. His cheeks began to swell. He clenched his fist, squared himself, took a firm stand, and looked~at me with a terrible eye. Whats the matter ? said I soothingly. Matter enough, sir, sputtered Caleb. Do you take me for a fool ? My dear sir Do you think Im a natural-born idiot, sir ? I upon my word, I dont understand you. I should think not, roared Caleb. What the do you mean then, sir, by trying to sell me with your infernal Chinese fowls ? Really, said I, now quite beside myself, I have no de- sire to sell you, nor the fowls. Ihave just bought them at two dollars apiece, and consider them a great bargain. Oh! you do, do you ? cried Caleb with a diabolical sneer. Now Mr. Quigg, you may think yourself a very smart man; and maybe you are. But it will take more than a ~ York lawyer, Mr. Clarkson Quigg, to make us believe that two young crows are a pair of Chinese fowls. Crows 1 said I innocently, who was talking of crows Who was ? echoed Caleb, sardonically. Why, sir, I was. Your Chinese fowls are a couple of unfledged crows, sir. And the next time you wish to try a saw on a Jerseyman, try it with something beside crows, sir. And away stalked Caleb with indignant strides. I looked after him sadly for a moment; then I put my hands under my coat-tails, and, for the space of half an hour I ceased not to gaze upon the Chinese fowls. 1856.] Tke C~4ronicle8 of Persejjolis. 69 It was a fact. I saw it now. I heard it in their caw. They were crows, two crows, two little crows, crow all over; nothing but crow! I dont think I looked any body straight in the face for a week after that little development in natural history. The neighbors call occasionally; quite as often, it seems to me, as they are wanted. The carpets are just put down. The furniture and every thing is in apple-pie order. Of course every body who comes leaves a legacy of red mud behind them. A figure, seen in the distance, instantly takes the shape of one of Carlyles Mud Demons, and fervent prayers are offered that it may be providentially directed anywheres else but to those new carpets. In addition to the legacy of mud, every visitor has left us a new bequest of distrust in humanity. Each has favored us with a full, true, and particular account of his or her predeces- sor. The profoundest secresy is enjoined by each. But really I begin to think s~cresy would be criminal. My hair stands on end with horror. Mrs. Nfrelinghorst, it appears, has had two husbands, and no body knows what became of the first. Mr. 1W., the second, died suddenly, and it is thought lucky for the widow that there was no post-mortem examination of the body. The three Miss Vendersucers are old maids. What they said, Heaven forbid I should repeat; but if the half of it be true, the number of children in this county who are not wise enough to know their own fathers, is shocking to contem- plate. Mrs. Armendorif, another very pleasant and lady-like women, according to Miss Aurelia Crammins account, is a disgrace to her sex, and a terrible story of maternal vengeance, which I may hereafter relate, confirms the fact. The hero was her own son; the heroine a beautiful Creole girl, who awakened the jealousy and pride of the mother, and drew upon herself a vengeance unsurpassed in the annals of female cruelty. Amongst other things, have learned that all Persepolis knows who I am. Persepolis has discovered that I am a Jew. Why? Because I am guilty of an unshaven chin, and guiltier still in a moustache. Quigg is a good name, it is said; but if mine be not Abrahams, or Levy, theres no truth in beards. What a delightful place. Went into the cellar to draw a little cider. Found the faucet turned and all the cider run out. Heard a groan from onc~ love in Absence. [Jan., corner. Began to feel queer. Fancied the house might be haunted, and the spirits partial to eider. Another groan. Gathered courage to investigate, and found, actually found Tom Steele, that fine, reverend, pious, temper- ate, and philosophical colored man, that veritable Uncl~ Tom, lying dead drunk in the corner. The stupendous scoundrel had turned the faucet, clapped his mbuth to it, and let the cider run down his throat till he was literally filledlike a demijohn. Beside him stood his hat. Something white glittered in it. Looked, and, found it half-full ofeggs. Discovered upon inquiry in the village that we had supplied one store with that article for several weeks, and that IT, Clarkson Quigg, Esq., was debited against the eggs with seventy.two quarts of bad rum. And what adds venom to the injury, is that all Persepolis turns up its nose and insists that the story of Tom Steele is a fiction, and that I drank the rum! Tom and Judy, I am happy to say, expiated their sins by a fit of the delicious triangles, and having been summarily ejected from the premises, have been replaced by white folk. A thousand similar occurrences took place during our first year; but I will not trouble the reader with their rehearsal. More stirring scenes, and events of larger issue, indeed, speedily drove them from our memories. LOYE IN ABSENCE. I WOULD I were a sunbeam, that I might depart the skies When first the light of risen day Upon thy pillow lies, And, lingering, kiss with gentle touch Thy seal6d eyes. I would I were the breath of morn, That I might early bear The sweetness of the violet Unto the chamber, where Thou sleepest, and might fan thy brow With perfumed air.

love in Absence. [Jan., corner. Began to feel queer. Fancied the house might be haunted, and the spirits partial to eider. Another groan. Gathered courage to investigate, and found, actually found Tom Steele, that fine, reverend, pious, temper- ate, and philosophical colored man, that veritable Uncl~ Tom, lying dead drunk in the corner. The stupendous scoundrel had turned the faucet, clapped his mbuth to it, and let the cider run down his throat till he was literally filledlike a demijohn. Beside him stood his hat. Something white glittered in it. Looked, and, found it half-full ofeggs. Discovered upon inquiry in the village that we had supplied one store with that article for several weeks, and that IT, Clarkson Quigg, Esq., was debited against the eggs with seventy.two quarts of bad rum. And what adds venom to the injury, is that all Persepolis turns up its nose and insists that the story of Tom Steele is a fiction, and that I drank the rum! Tom and Judy, I am happy to say, expiated their sins by a fit of the delicious triangles, and having been summarily ejected from the premises, have been replaced by white folk. A thousand similar occurrences took place during our first year; but I will not trouble the reader with their rehearsal. More stirring scenes, and events of larger issue, indeed, speedily drove them from our memories. LOYE IN ABSENCE. I WOULD I were a sunbeam, that I might depart the skies When first the light of risen day Upon thy pillow lies, And, lingering, kiss with gentle touch Thy seal6d eyes. I would I were the breath of morn, That I might early bear The sweetness of the violet Unto the chamber, where Thou sleepest, and might fan thy brow With perfumed air. 1856.1 Roberto C~or8zn~. 74 ROBERTO CORSINI. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. EVERY Monday, according to immemorial usage, the tables were set out in the principal apartment of the palace; and, by the light of crystal Venetian girandoles, in the midst of pro- found attention, the play went on. Politics was excluded from the noble assembly. Of religion they spoke no more than if such a thing had been unknown to them. Play absorbed every thing. It was Monday night. For two hours nothing had been heard but the rattling of the cards, when Signor Roberto Cor- sini rose quickly and strode up to a table, which was covered with piles of gold and bank-notes. My lord, said he, to one of the players, put up two hundred pistoles for me. Im not in luck, and it is my last stake. The two hundred pistoles rolled out upon the table. In two turns of the cards, the money of Corsini, and of the player on whom he betted, was in their adversarys hands. The player who had lost rose, and politely offered to yield Corsini his place. He accepted, and his first bet was two thousand sequins. My lord Doria, said he, let us see if chance always favors you. The proverb says, You are happier at play than in love. My Lord Corsini, it is scarcely generous in you to remind me, that, in a few days, you are about to marry my cousin Aglaura. You have pleased her. It is well. She has pre- ferred you to me. That is marvellousbutclubs I did not mean to wound you. I have no clubs. Then the stake is mine.~~ Two thousand sequinsthey are yours. I go you twenty thousand, now. That is nearly the value of the ear-rings I mean to buy for Aglaura. Aglaura again. The kingyou have lost again, Signor Corsini. Do you wish to stop ? I am not in the habit of stopping when I lose. Recoil before such a trifling check? Pooh! Fifty thousand.

1856.1 Roberto C~or8zn~. 74 ROBERTO CORSINI. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH FOR THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. EVERY Monday, according to immemorial usage, the tables were set out in the principal apartment of the palace; and, by the light of crystal Venetian girandoles, in the midst of pro- found attention, the play went on. Politics was excluded from the noble assembly. Of religion they spoke no more than if such a thing had been unknown to them. Play absorbed every thing. It was Monday night. For two hours nothing had been heard but the rattling of the cards, when Signor Roberto Cor- sini rose quickly and strode up to a table, which was covered with piles of gold and bank-notes. My lord, said he, to one of the players, put up two hundred pistoles for me. Im not in luck, and it is my last stake. The two hundred pistoles rolled out upon the table. In two turns of the cards, the money of Corsini, and of the player on whom he betted, was in their adversarys hands. The player who had lost rose, and politely offered to yield Corsini his place. He accepted, and his first bet was two thousand sequins. My lord Doria, said he, let us see if chance always favors you. The proverb says, You are happier at play than in love. My Lord Corsini, it is scarcely generous in you to remind me, that, in a few days, you are about to marry my cousin Aglaura. You have pleased her. It is well. She has pre- ferred you to me. That is marvellousbutclubs I did not mean to wound you. I have no clubs. Then the stake is mine.~~ Two thousand sequinsthey are yours. I go you twenty thousand, now. That is nearly the value of the ear-rings I mean to buy for Aglaura. Aglaura again. The kingyou have lost again, Signor Corsini. Do you wish to stop ? I am not in the habit of stopping when I lose. Recoil before such a trifling check? Pooh! Fifty thousand. 72 Ji?o6erto COr8rni. [Jan., Fifty thousand. Be it so The enunciation of this sum, made in a loud voice, attracted the attention of the other players, and they arose, koth men and women, and placed themselves in a circle silently around Roberto Corsini and Doria. You are wrong, Signor Doria, to hesitate an instant, when I offer to bet fifty thousand sequins. Do you not know, my palace is worth as much as yours ?my villa of Camaldoli, as much as your vineyards of Carrara ?and my credit equal to what we play for ? - Signor Corsini. Your ill-humor puts a wrong construc- tion upon my words, as well as upon my silence. Be it so. Let us play. Your fifty thousand sequins are mine.~~ Yes- but my villa of Camaldoli may represent two hun- dred thousand. Here are the title-deeds of it. Go on; let us play for the Villa of Camaldoli. We will stop, when I have played two hufidred thousand sequins against it. Yes; a thousand times, yes. Go on. The Villa of Camaldoli is mine.~~ The cards are infamous; the devil made them; the fire of hell colored them. But will you leave your victory half finished? You have thevilla; but I still possess my palace, that of my ancestors. It is second only to the Pitti, as you know. Marbles and pictures worth nearly a million! I offer you the chance for it. And I accept.. Very well, then. Double or quits. What you have won against the palace ? The cards were distributed, and, in three turns, the luck which ran so violently against Corsini, finished as it had begun. Without a change of color or a complaint, he laid upon the green table, the golden key of his palace, and opened for himself a passage through a crowd, terrified by the blow which left him landless and penniless. No one dared to stop him. Again, however, . he returned, and, leaning down, whis- pered, with evident emotion, to Doria. The latter made a sign of acquiescence, and the cards were resumed. Are you the devil that you always win ? I have proved the contrary, Signor Corsini, since the devil has no fancy for women, and I have just won from you your mistress, your betrothedshe whom you were to marry so soon ! You are a coward to say it. 1856.] Roberto cor8~n~. 73 And you are a hundred times a coward to have staked her. A glaura! his betrothed, the oniy daughter of Cavalcati, bet her away. Holy Virgin 1 cried all the ladies present, in accents of anger. Silence! and hear me, cried the gamester. I, Roberto Corsini, descended from the most illustrious ancestry of Italy; I, who have had among them a Governor of Trieste; a con- queror at the Battle of Lepanto; two consecrated IDoges of Venice, in the fifteenth century; who still proudly count Podestas and Gonfalioneers of Florence, Roberto Corsini, lord of Camaldoli, I repeat, II stake my name. His name ! cried the cavaliers, with a burst of laughter. His name It is well worth, I think, he continued, smiling bitterly, some thousand acres of vines, in Carrara; and the glory which accompanies it, my lord Doria, is not worth less than the sum it pleases you to fix. I stake my name. If I lose, my lord, I consent never to be named again whilst I live. It is a fine treasure, that name of mine. It is inscribed in the book of life; it is traced in letters of gold, upon the register of Venice; it is written in every glorious memory of Etruria. If I lose, I agree that it shall be erased from all. By our name, in the day of judgment, the archangel calls us from the tomb. It is the key of heaven and hell. Do you understand, now, what I risk? For the last time, at what will you value it. Quick ? I value it too highly to fix a value. If I gain, it will belong to me. If I lose, you shall fix it yourself. Place yourself there, then. And the two players made the sign of the cross. Whilst they shuffled the cards, the company, by a common impulse of ter- ror, abandoned the hall and left them alone with each other. Midnight struck. A cry rose upon the night I am damned. And a man went out by the gate of St. Paolo. He sat down at the foot of a dry tree, and leaned his head upon his hands and wept. 0 my Villa of Camaldoli, where the fruits were so beauti- ful; my palace; my Aglaura; my namelostlostall lost. Could I but force it, sword in hand, from Doria; trace it up- on the sand; read it when twas writ, or even halloo it to this solitude. But no. I have gambled it away. I have stripped myself of the right or power to resume it. The law of play Roberto Uor8ini. [Jan., has taken it from me, and debts of honor are sacred. The world is ashamed of me. It denies the apostate who has denied himself. I am viler in its eyes than the vilest pagan. 0 helplessness! 0 misery! The very demons refuse me; for even they have a name in the creation. Satan, Satan! I call on thee.~~ The blush of day tinged the horizon. A band of young girls passed him. Will you buy a rose, of Marta; a sprig of jessamine, from Gloria; or Despair! They have each a name. He left the young. girls, and ran, like a madman across the fields, crying: Marta, Enigma, Gloria! all have a name, butl have none. He knocked at the door of a convent. A monk appeared. Brother, he said; I wish to be baptized. You come early. My safety demands it. Are you a Jew?No! A Turk?No! A Manichean? a Protestant ? No, no! I was born in the bosom of the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Roman Church. What, then, is it you ask ? To be a second time baptized. The Council of rrrebizonde has forbidden it. But I have lost my name.~~ Find it again. The angelus sounds. God help you. The door of the convent was closed. Baptism is refused me. I am no longer a Christian. Divine pity! For me no Christmas, no Easter, no Pentecost, no candle of the Virgin of Carmel, when I am.sick; no word of priest to console me on my deserted couch ! He entered a village, which was upon the domain of his sis- ter the IDutchess of Paglia. The cur6 said to him: Good morning, Signor Roberto Corsini. His nurse called from the window: Good morn- ing, Corsini. The villagers cried out: Long live Signor Corsini. He answered neither cur6, nor nnrse, nor villagers. I have no name, he muttered, and rushed away like an evil spirit which some priest has exorcised. Yasssal and mendicant and robber scorned the man without a name. He attempted to join a band of brigands. Who are you ? said the chief. The enemy of men.~~ You are our friend. What do you desire ? 1856.] Roberto Cors~n~. 75 To carry misery and desolation into families; to live upon the highway; to follow you to pillage or the gibbet; to win my bread with my dagger. Your name I have none. You can not be of our band. You would bring misfortune upon brave men, and the saints would abandon us, if we received you. Depart 1 A little while after this, he learnt that Doria, who, chang- ing his name for that of Corsini, had continued to bear the latter~ was overwhelmed with debt, and drawn, as it were, upon the hurdle of an infamous renownin a word, disho- nored. He was a fraudulent bankrupt. He learned, that Doria had been a prisoner in the Galleys of Cattaro, for cheat- ing at cards, and had escaped. Corsini had been cheated of his palace, his mistress, and his name. Whatever he was; what would he not give to see him? Six months he wandered about, night and day, hopeless. Still, he clung to life; he durst not kill himself. At last, he resolved to return to Florence. He reached the city. He stood before the palace. The street was deserted; but the palace gleamed with lights. Beautiful women passed and repassed before them. They are there, he cried. It is he. It is Doria. It is Aglaura! Take back your gold; but give me back my name. Restore me my bride. My life is bound up with hers. Doria, for love of grace, give me back my name. His cries fell unheeded. Despairingly, he turned towards the bank of the Arno. Half-dead with fatigue, he stretched himself upon the bank. Directly, he beheld approaching, gondolas, filled with musicians. Yalets, bearing flambeaux, lined the banks. The wedding-festival was continued upon the river. He fancied himself in a dream. He saw Aglaura, more beautiful than ever. Her arms were bare; the dia- monds glittered in her hair; her embroidered robe swept down in folds of marvellous richness. When the different groups had descended into the little barks which awaited them; when all had passed, and swept away into the darkness, he heard a strange and terrible cry. Hastening to the place from which they had started, he saw two men hastily retiring, and crying, as they did so: The infamous wretch is dead ! A man had been assassinated. 76 Roberto corsini. [Jan., Seizing the lantern, which they left behind them in their flight, and bringing it close to the face of the murdered man, who was twisting himself like a serpent, he knelt beside him, and endeavored to discover who he was. With a handker- chief he wiped away the blood and dust, which bubbled from his lips, raised the dead and folded eyelids, and cried: It is he! It is Doria! Great Heaven! and he is dying. His eye closes; his mouth works; his veins are blue. He is dying, and my name with him. Doria! my friend Doria! save me, for pitys sake, from annihilation. Give me my name. What does he say? His voice fails. Speak, dear Doria, speak! What do you wish? That I, too, should die? Twill die, if you require it. But, answer me A little water, for pitys sake. The whole river, if you wish. But my name first. A drop of water. A red-hot iron is in my heart. My name! for a draught df water. Give it, and I will open your mouth, and the Arno is there. I have but to stretch out my hand. Nothing for nothing. My name! and you shall have the waterthe watera throat full! my name A little water. I stifle ! Three words, my good Doria. Ah! the scoundrel! lie hesitates. He laughs. He is trying to roll over towards the river. Noyou go not. Answer me, wretch, or I will stran- gle you with my own hands ! and he caught him by the golden ornaments of his dress. He bent over and gazed into his wandering eyes; he fastened upon his bi~eathless lips; then loosed his hold, to clasp his hand, and mingle supplica. tions with blasphemies, persuasion and insinuation with cries of rage. A moment of silence. Doria was dead. Then, with the smile of the atheist, he raised his foot and spurned the body into the river. Now, he exclaimed, now, be thou accursed for ever Next day, some fishermen heard a plungethe fall of a heavy body in the water. Running to the place, they saw only an eddy in the water. In the museum of Florence, in the dissection-room, may be seen, in its glass-case, a glittering skeleton, the articulations of which are of copper and silver. It is the man without a name! 1856.] Ohranicle of the .Afomth. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F 0 R E I G N. WARstill war I News from the Crimea Iat least a mass of matter which newspaper editors and news-boysbusy traffickers in extrascall so. To our thinking, however, it appears singularly stale and vapid.; also thric~vamped and insufferably tedious. Good gracious, Max! what a nuis- ance this institution of letter-writing has grown to be. Once upon a time, Madame de Sevign~ and Lady Montague exhausted the record. They were bound in volumes; they were set up upon library-shelves in the finest of binding and gilt lettering; they were the letter-writers par excellence. But nownow every nook and cranny, every hole, chink, and crevice, of the world swarms with them. We once heard a crusty old bachelor, at a watering- place, growling at the number of children in the hotel, and vow that he could nt set his boots outside his door over night, without finding a baby in the toe of each of them in the morning. Now-a-days, in this great Innthe worldyou cant set your foot anywhere outside your own door without stumbling over a letter-writer. Twist, turn, screw, rummage; beat every ground, political, moral, philosophical, mechanical, or farcical, and not the leanest of birds can you scare up. It has all been beaten before you. Anec- dote! bless your innocence, reader, theres no such thing as anecdote to be had now-a-days. Who steals them all? The letter-writers. Fact? Inno- cent creature! Fact perished miserably a long time ago; hung himself, in despair, and his own garters. Who manufactures facts, now-a-days, to order? The letter-writers! Wise suggestions, profound reflections, cunning guesses,. immense discoveries, prophetic revelationswho makes them all? The letter-writers. Also, who kilrs Cock Robin every day? The letter-writers. You can not get ahead of the cunning rogues; they know every thing, and several other things besides. But catch me a live Washington letter-writer, and then you have the Phcenix. Fire cant burn him. Water can not drown him. Stone walls can not stop him. In fact the last are all ears for him, and tongue into the bargain. The Capitol, the Presidents private study, the Secretarys snuggeries are slaves to his lamp. He has but to mount to his three pair back, and rub that serviceable piece of brass, and, in a jiffy, all the echoes of all those private retreats, where the inhabitants vainly suppose themselves secure from eaves-droppers, come tumbling up-stairs to him, one over the other, and tell himbless us and save us! what dont they tell him? They tell him what the President had for dinner, and how the roast beef being a little tough o Tucsdayyes, sir, o Tuesday morningtwas then,

1856.] Ohranicle of the .Afomth. CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. F 0 R E I G N. WARstill war I News from the Crimea Iat least a mass of matter which newspaper editors and news-boysbusy traffickers in extrascall so. To our thinking, however, it appears singularly stale and vapid.; also thric~vamped and insufferably tedious. Good gracious, Max! what a nuis- ance this institution of letter-writing has grown to be. Once upon a time, Madame de Sevign~ and Lady Montague exhausted the record. They were bound in volumes; they were set up upon library-shelves in the finest of binding and gilt lettering; they were the letter-writers par excellence. But nownow every nook and cranny, every hole, chink, and crevice, of the world swarms with them. We once heard a crusty old bachelor, at a watering- place, growling at the number of children in the hotel, and vow that he could nt set his boots outside his door over night, without finding a baby in the toe of each of them in the morning. Now-a-days, in this great Innthe worldyou cant set your foot anywhere outside your own door without stumbling over a letter-writer. Twist, turn, screw, rummage; beat every ground, political, moral, philosophical, mechanical, or farcical, and not the leanest of birds can you scare up. It has all been beaten before you. Anec- dote! bless your innocence, reader, theres no such thing as anecdote to be had now-a-days. Who steals them all? The letter-writers. Fact? Inno- cent creature! Fact perished miserably a long time ago; hung himself, in despair, and his own garters. Who manufactures facts, now-a-days, to order? The letter-writers! Wise suggestions, profound reflections, cunning guesses,. immense discoveries, prophetic revelationswho makes them all? The letter-writers. Also, who kilrs Cock Robin every day? The letter-writers. You can not get ahead of the cunning rogues; they know every thing, and several other things besides. But catch me a live Washington letter-writer, and then you have the Phcenix. Fire cant burn him. Water can not drown him. Stone walls can not stop him. In fact the last are all ears for him, and tongue into the bargain. The Capitol, the Presidents private study, the Secretarys snuggeries are slaves to his lamp. He has but to mount to his three pair back, and rub that serviceable piece of brass, and, in a jiffy, all the echoes of all those private retreats, where the inhabitants vainly suppose themselves secure from eaves-droppers, come tumbling up-stairs to him, one over the other, and tell himbless us and save us! what dont they tell him? They tell him what the President had for dinner, and how the roast beef being a little tough o Tucsdayyes, sir, o Tuesday morningtwas then, 78 CAronicle of the M~nth. [Jan., indeed, Franklin Pierce remarked, with an ominous twinkle in his eye, that the roast beef of old England was a tough subj ect; whereupon Marcy chuckled, and replied jocosely: Well carve something out of it for all that. To which Cushing, who, probably in honor of his Christian name, and the popular refrain of Heads up, tails up, Here comes Caleb I Is always ready for a slice of any thing, continued : Ayeaye! We can cut and come again at the BuU, when weve carbonadoed the Spaniard. Start- ling and reliable information! Now, cries the man who didnt get the public printing, or the Mission to France, now we have got at the animu8 of the Administration. Our readers may rely upon the statement ofdacts. It is from our own correspondent, who possesses the secret of fern seed, and walks invisible. In fact, he was under the table, with the Presidents lap-dog, when the conversation took place. Driven to the wall; with nothing indeed but old-fashioned honesty, and Democratic principle to stand upon and e found out, by experience, long ago, what a miserable chance a man has on that platform now-a-daysPierce, Marcy, Cushing, and Co. are bound to make a fuss generally, and talk daggers; but Lord bless you! they will use none. Mere bluster and Greytown bravery. What a blessing a Wash- ington correspondent is, to be sure. Which naturally brings us to the sub- ject of our foreign relations with ENGLANDconcerning which most Christian kingdom, and Grand, Stock- Jobbing, Filibuster, Political Association, for the annexation of Punjaubs, Mahratta kingdoms, Hindoostans, and other such unconsidered trifles of land, evidently made, and laid out upon the map of the world, for the special purpose of being snapped up by his or her Britannic Majesty, for the time being; concerning these our good neighbors, and constant Mentors, it seems to usand we speak it in the simpleness of our hearts, and the tenderest feeling of consideration for Uncle Bulls vanityit seems to us, that dignified person has been making a very clumsy attempt at dancing among the eggs. To think of the staid John blustering and braggng, and sending four hun- dred great guns to bluster on the calm waters of the Western World. Did John really fancy that folk on this side of the Atlantic did not know that all those great guns were worn out and honey-combed, pounding away, to no purpose, at Sebastopol and Sweaborg, and would burst and blow every thing to kingdom come, the first time they were scaled with shot hereabout? Do tell, now, 0 Uncle John! what was the use of frightening all the cot- ton-spinners of Liverpool and Glasgow, and all the wool-men of Lancashire, and all the rest of the population of Great Britain generally? What was the use of frightening all those poor folk to death, trying to scare Brother Jona- than a littlea very littlefor you know you did not expect to scare him much? What a terrible thing it is to have to be a Thunderer, and always make Olympus tremble at a nod! Printing-House Square itself has not 1856j CAron~de of the AIonth. sulphur and iron enough to keep the game up for ever. Meanwhile we take it for granted that Franklin Pierce will be found equal to the situation; let the opposition bow-wow as it may. When theres a scratch to come to, he will be there. That he is thar, one sentence from his late speech to the Amoskeag Veterans (Dec. 17th) indicates in a manner not to be mistaken: A nation which can summon to the field five hundred thousand brave, intelligent, hardy men, accustomed from boyhood to the saddle, and to the use of the rifle and musket, is not in a condition to invite aggreesion I By the light of which expression it will be well to read the following extract from the cor- respondence of the London Daily Telegraph: When war was declared be- tween the United States and Mexico, a placard appeared in the window of a gunmaker on Tower Hill, offering a bounty to all who would enlist in the Mexican service, or rather go privateering in English vessels against the commerce of the United States. I took the bill to George Bancroft, then United States Minister. He at once sat down and wrote to Lord Palmerston, then in office, and the next day appeared in the Tisn~es an official notice from Lord Palmerston, that all such parties who enlisted here, and were caught, would l~e treated as pirates, and punished accordingly. The notice in the window was not shown afterwards. Should the government of the United States adopt Lord Palmerstons rule, and, simply changing the scene from London to Washington, treat aspirates English subjects caught in the same act upon American soil, would the British Cabinet have any right to com- plain? Would they object to English law i~or English subjects? We fancy the President and Cabinet, as a unit, will be found staunch~ If not, we know a particular friend of our own who will say what he thinks, though the Heavens sh~uld fall for it; not that we fancy that brave, oer- hanging canopy will come down from any chance shot of ours, but simply as a form of expression, by which we would imply that our confidence in the Democratic party is the rule of our duty, towards any man and all men. A principle we may discuss hereafter, but which, although of much greater importance to the world in general and to ourselves in particular, than those powers, paired, not matched, must give way, for the moment, to the ALLIEsand it affords us a singular pleasure to announce that the last council of war, in the Crimea, held Nov. 3, declare the campaign of 1855 finished. How many more they will finish in the same unfinished manner, or when they expect to commence the beginning of the end, or whether any one will ever live to see them finish any thing, except bragging, are great mysteries. Great Arthurs ghost complains that they are slow, and Marl- boros shade walks unavenged amongst them. But what can be expected in the way of going ahead, from a people who, when their little dot of an island is actually bound up and criss-crossed, every half-mile, with a net- work of railroads, are so wedded to old fashions that they dare not adopt the model of an American locomotive, but continue to run a seven-by-nine~~ article, dignified with the name, with a ten-inch driving-wheel behind, a pair 80 Ckronicle of tke JJiouth, [Jan., of cotton spindles in front, and no cow-catcher! They do. It is a fact. Of course they cant be expected to drive the mighty engine of war at much over a snails pace. Meanwhile cotton, which is king, although an amiable lady of distinguished manners and defective education, pleases her- self with the idea that the round and top of royalty belongs to her, begins to mutter audibly in the rural districts. The war does not pay : tout au contraire ; the manufacturers pay for the war to a tune, the singing whereof is fast stealing its popularity from that other fine tune of Rule Britannia. In most pathetical fact, Great Britain may be said just now to be in the po- sition of the half-pay lieutenant, in the comedy of the Poor Gentleman, and if not more honest than poor, she is certainly more proud than either: a pleasant little flash of the latter lighting up the darkness of the Mosquito shore, and, prior to fading away into the twilight of renewed negotiations, shining quite grandly on the Clayton-Bulwer treaty. Also it may be seen with a kind of farthing rushlight splendor, worrying through the thick opaque of Mr. Minister Cramptons patriotic attempt to steal American thunder for English uses. What the President or Mr. Marcy intend to do in those premises, we pledge the public our honor, we do not know. They have not said a word to us about the matter; which, considering the uncom- monly free manner and style of their communications to the own corre- spondents of the Herald, Times, and other respectable two-pennies, we take to be very shabby treatment indeed. When we mentioned the subject to Mr. Secretary Marcy, we observed that he shut one eye; from which we naturally concluded that he meant to intimate that he had the other upon him. If the honorable Secretary, however, deceived us, and through us of course the whole country, we shall resent it. We insist upon it, the language of that eye was as clear as preaching, and we promise the country never to put our legs under the honorable gen- tlemans mahogany again, if he keeps any body elses own correspond- ent under it, to feed on the alms-basket of his words, whilst, above the polished surface of that hospitable piece of furniture, he deludes our inno- cence with diplomatic winks. Which naturally leads us to the second member, or as some think, theftrst, of the grand Western Coalition, which, with a very questionable hand, is undertaking to bluff the Northern Bear, id eat, FRANcEwhere it is noticeable that the expression of opinion by the Emperor and the members of his government, with regard to the United States, has about it an air of common-sense and cordiality which contrasts pleasingly with the natural roughness of his opposite neighbor. The senti- ment of France translates itself upon the lips of her leading men, into a gen- ial appreciation of the character and purposes of the model Republic. In Paris, Berlin, and Yienna, they talk of peace; they say Russia desires to treat; and Prussia is anxious to have a finger in the pie. Our advices from Russia, on which we place more reliance than on Parisian canards or Vien 18~6.] Chronicle of the )iionth. 81 nese traps, indicate that the only treat Russia is willing to offer will be composed of equal parts of cold steel and gunpowder. The subject of treating calls us naturally back nearer home, and lands us in NICARAGUAwhere, it is popularly believed, His Serenity, General William Walker, is doing a very large business on a very small capital. In any view of his acts, it is an astonishing thing to look at, that invasion, or colonization, or what you please. Nothing finer since Cortez and Pizarro. Think of seventy Yankees entering in and possessing an inde- pendent kingdom by force of arms; defeating half-a-dozen factions, with haIf- a-dozen armies of pick-pockets and cut-throats at their backs; capturing the seat of government, and then sitting quietly down to supper, calm as a summers morning ; and above all, with a clemency which has struck the heart of Central America with admiration, not shooting above a dozen re- fractory generals, councillors of state, and other distinguished native pre- tenders among the seigniory of that people! Stupendous! Theres virtue for you. In connection with which subject, a striking little episode came off, off the Battery, on the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. At that quiet time about three hundred gallant souls, who had heard the alarm of Nicaraguan war, and longed for fields of fame, attempted to get away in the Northern Light. But Mr. District-Attorney McKeon, in obedience to the Presidents orders, insisted upon putting their light under a bushel. Those who saw, report that the gallant District-Attorney showed more pluck than all the gallant three hundred put together, and parodying the words of the indomitable Fitz- James, exclaimed as he stood upon the vessels side alone, like Ajax breast- ing the thunder-bolt: This boat shant fly From New-York Bay with you or I! In pursuance of which stern resolve he rushed, like the bearer of the fiery cross, from Barge office to Revenue Cutter, from Revenue Cutter to Navy- Yard, and, in the turn of a hand-spike9 was standing out, side by side with the fihibusteros, for a yard-arm and yard-arm fight. Having opened the ball, however, with a nine-pounder double-shotted, the crusaders caved in, and meekly forbore to put the Revenue Cutter to the trouble of sinking them. The prompt action of the general government in the premises evinces their determination to preserve the letter and spirit of our treaties with Great Britain; and if they are broken at all, to throw the onus of the act entirely upon her. In the attitude assumed by the government towards the English Minister, Mr. Crampton, the necessity of preventing any infraction of the Neutrality laws, by American citizens, is self-evident. From Nicaragua to the United States being but a step, it affords us a great deal more pleasure 6 82 Chronicle of the ALrnth. [Jan., to take it in that direction than it would to go from the United States to Nicaragua. We turn therefore from the foreign to the DOMESTIC. And being upon that blessed soil, we beg to recommend to the seri- ous consideration of a very large, and very foolish, portion of our fellow- citizens, especially to the Washington Chapter of United Americans, and all others who invoke that reverend name as patron of their politi- cal faith, these grand and noble words of George Washington. Lay them to heart, 0 blind and foolish Know-Nothings: The bosom of America is open to receive, not only the opulent and respectable stranger, but the op- pressed and persecuted of ALL NATIONS and of ALL RELIGIONS, whom we shall welcome to a participation in alt our rights and privileges. So, the Father of his Country being dead, yet speaketh. What a wonderful age of progress, perdie! Every Know-Nothing clod-hopper or counter-jumper is wiser and more patriotic than Washington! One comfort, it cant last; So wise so young, they say do neer live long. There is a little common-sense return- ing too, vide the pronunciamento of a number of individuals who lately withdrew from the organization in Arkansas: Those of us who were heretofore Democrats return with joy to our first love. Those who were Whigs are still so, but, their organization being broken up, claim for the future no party but their country, and expect to co6perate with that party whose organization is national, whose aims are their countrys prosperity, and whose war-cry is opposition to religious proscription and secret political societies. There is a future left for all men who have the honesty to repent, and the courage to atone. Probably some body will expect us to say something about KANsAs.We will; and what we say is, the least said the soonest mended. A parcel of scoundrels and idiots, or a lovely conglomerate of both, have been airing their valor on that distant field. We see no great harm in that; no great harm in a few hundred of them being shot, if they like. And if they have a fancy for being shot, in Heavens name, why cant people a thousand miles off let them enjoy themselves? When the Kansas bill settled the great original right of self-government on its original basis, there was an end. After that let the gentlemen fight it out among themselves; it is no business of ours. We gave them self-government; let them use it or abuse it. They have to pay the piper: pray let them dance as long as they please. The last place to which we turn our eyes, is that to which all eyes have been turned for a month past, WASHINGTON.And you shall find, at your pleasure, men who will tell you that the friends of Banks, Fuller, Richardson, etc., have each and all of them covered themselves with glory. Also, the next man you meet will tell you that they should individually and collectively be covered with cursing as with a garment. For our part we watched that gallant seventy-four, as we 1856.] Chronicle of ~he ilfionth. 83 would watch old Ironsides going into battle against an enemys fleet. Every ballot rung on our ears like a broadside from the old frigate, and every time the smoke lifted and the votes were counted, our hearts beat with exultation to see the old Democratic barkie come plunging through the hostile line, the broad pennant streaming, and every thing, from clew to earing, from truck to keelson, taut and trim; not a spar splintered, not a line or brace cut: there she rode. Whatever may be the issue, or who the Speaker, the atti- tude assumed and maintained by the Democratic representatives affords a sure indication of the attitude which will also be maintained by the party in the contest of 1856. It will be found a unit, and as such, the last bulwark of the Constitution against the encroachments of every other party and faction. In NEW-YORKa sort of suspension of hostilities has taken place, and poli- ticians of all shades await the opening of the session of the State Legislature. The most active body in the Democratic field appears ~to be the Young Mens Democratic Union Club, of New-York. They have just issued a cir- cular asking the support of the party for a system of operation in the ap- proaching campaign. The circular states that they propose to open, in a central position, on Broadway, a politicffl head-quarters of the Democracy, consisting of a reading-room, furnished with the newspapers from all quarters of the Union, and a room for public meetings; the meetings to be held weekly, and distinguished Democratic speakers from every part of the United States to deliver addresses at such times as they may designate. They propose also to publish a weekly campaign paper. They pledge them- selves to support only National Democratic principles, and the nominee of the Cincinnati Convention, whoever he may be, so long as he is neither an Abolitio~ist nor a Free-Soiler---a contingency hardly worth mentioning, as it is scarcely within the range of possibility. The scheme appears an admirable one, and, if carried out, must exert a powerful influence upon all sections of the country, and do more to harmonize the party in the State of New-York than any thing which has yet been set on foot. TERRE is a moral in the little mot below, worth some good mens con- sideration. It touches a sore place on the body politic. The following dialogue occurred between a conductor on one of the Port- land railroads and a passenger a few days since: PAssENGER. Well, Mr. Conductor, whats the political news 1 CoNDUcToR. Dont know, sir, for I havent been to chi~rch for the last two Sundays. 84 Music, [Jam, MUSIC. THE first concert of the Philharmonic Society drew together the largest audience ever present at any of their performances. Niblos Theatre was crowded to its utmost capacity; a result pretty surely foreshadowed by the fact that hundreds turned away, unable to gain admission to the last re- hearsal previous to the concert. It is a peculiar and very encouraging fact to be observed in these audiences, that the average youth is greater than is ever seen at any other public exhibition in our city. Our young men and maid ens are safe in the hands of Mozart and Beethoven, musically, morally, and politically; and if the young learn to appreciate and love the works of the divine old Masters, we need have no fear for the permanence of a correct musical taste.. The concert with which the present Philharmonic season has commenced deserved its great success. It was the best ever given. Beethovens Pastora~e, Glucks Ip hi genie, and Wagners Tannhiiuser, was the work cut .out forthe or- chestra, and they did their work well. A more interesting selection of sym- phonies could not possibly have been madeeach marking distinctly, and standing at the front of three great eras in orchestral music; at least it is claimed by many that Tannh~iuser is to create an era, as his mighty prede- cessors created theirs. How difficult it is for us, who are accuston~d to the inexhaustible richness and resources of the modern orchestra, as developed by Mozart and Beethoven, to realize the commotion produced by Gluck in the musical world. What seems to us now almost naked simplicity, and a lack of fullness and effect in the Iphigenie, led Metastasio, just one hundred years ago, to say: Gluck has surprising fire, but is mad: with him spirit, noise, and extravagance have supplied the place of merit. So wrote Metastasio in 1756. What would he say now if he could be present (without cotton in his ears) at the performance of some of the overtures of the modern Dramatic Romantic School? With such an example before us, we naturally hesitate to pronounce an opinion upon 7iannhduser, as the harbinger of a new world in music. Often as we have heard it, and much as we have read about it, we nevertheless still hesitate to believe that Mozart and Beethoven will ever be as completely shelved by Wagner and his successors, as Gluck and Piccini now are by the fathers of the modern symphony. We have a sort of belief or notion, an intimate conviction, as the French say, that Rafello, Michael Angelo, Mozart, and Beethoven, carried their respective arts to a degree of jerfection that will never again be equalled. The arts culminated in their works, and although many good pictures have been since painted and un

84 Music, [Jam, MUSIC. THE first concert of the Philharmonic Society drew together the largest audience ever present at any of their performances. Niblos Theatre was crowded to its utmost capacity; a result pretty surely foreshadowed by the fact that hundreds turned away, unable to gain admission to the last re- hearsal previous to the concert. It is a peculiar and very encouraging fact to be observed in these audiences, that the average youth is greater than is ever seen at any other public exhibition in our city. Our young men and maid ens are safe in the hands of Mozart and Beethoven, musically, morally, and politically; and if the young learn to appreciate and love the works of the divine old Masters, we need have no fear for the permanence of a correct musical taste.. The concert with which the present Philharmonic season has commenced deserved its great success. It was the best ever given. Beethovens Pastora~e, Glucks Ip hi genie, and Wagners Tannhiiuser, was the work cut .out forthe or- chestra, and they did their work well. A more interesting selection of sym- phonies could not possibly have been madeeach marking distinctly, and standing at the front of three great eras in orchestral music; at least it is claimed by many that Tannh~iuser is to create an era, as his mighty prede- cessors created theirs. How difficult it is for us, who are accuston~d to the inexhaustible richness and resources of the modern orchestra, as developed by Mozart and Beethoven, to realize the commotion produced by Gluck in the musical world. What seems to us now almost naked simplicity, and a lack of fullness and effect in the Iphigenie, led Metastasio, just one hundred years ago, to say: Gluck has surprising fire, but is mad: with him spirit, noise, and extravagance have supplied the place of merit. So wrote Metastasio in 1756. What would he say now if he could be present (without cotton in his ears) at the performance of some of the overtures of the modern Dramatic Romantic School? With such an example before us, we naturally hesitate to pronounce an opinion upon 7iannhduser, as the harbinger of a new world in music. Often as we have heard it, and much as we have read about it, we nevertheless still hesitate to believe that Mozart and Beethoven will ever be as completely shelved by Wagner and his successors, as Gluck and Piccini now are by the fathers of the modern symphony. We have a sort of belief or notion, an intimate conviction, as the French say, that Rafello, Michael Angelo, Mozart, and Beethoven, carried their respective arts to a degree of jerfection that will never again be equalled. The arts culminated in their works, and although many good pictures have been since painted and un 1856.] Alusic. 85 doubtedly will be again; and though Powers and Crawford may chisel, and Mendelssohns and Wagners write symphonies, the Transfiguration will con- tinue to reign in unapproached grandeur and sublimity. Buonarottis Aloses will still look haughtily down on a long array of Venuses and Creek Staves, and the fupiter and Pastorede continue to chant their heaven-born strains some hundreds of years after Desert and Tannk?Luser symphonies have breathed their last sigh, and live only in the memory of some musical Old Mortality. However, these hysterics are very improper in a critic, and if our friends in Wall street and on Change will pardon the present fit, we promise not to be taken so again, for a month at least. We will close our notice of the concert by praising the orchestra and their efficient leader, Mr. Bergmann, for the admirable way in which they discharged their duty. The shading, the ensemble, and effective taking up of all the points Were well done throughout. We venture to suggest, however, that the first movement of the Pastorcde symphony was taken so fast as almost to destroy the pe- culiar flowing character of the measure. And we should like to hint that neither of the symphonies, not even Tcsnnkduser was written as a solo, with- out variations, for the drums, with orchestral accompaniment.Mr. Eisfelds second quartette soiree took place on the night of the fifteenth December, at the usual place. As usual, our unlucky professor had a stormy night, and as usual the lovers of classical music showed that their love was stronger than their fears of a wet skin. Here, too, the modern Dramatic Romantic crept in through the rain-drops, in the shape of a quartette, by a Russian composer, with the extremely German name of Rubinstein. At least we heard from very good authority that the composer was a Russian, and we fully believe it. We are hardly prepared to discuss the merits of the com- position on a single hasty hearing. It was very elaborate, and in one of the movements there was such a rapid, intricate, hopeless interlacing, twisting, and twining of what seemed to be a million of indistinct semi-quavers, that the different members of the concern lost all individuality, and first violin and tenor, second violin and base collapsed suddenly into indistinguivhable fusion, and our brain, after one or two hopeless twirls in pursuit of the fan- tastic gyrations, suddenly refused to act, and when it consented to resume its wonted functions, things seemed to be going on pretty smoothly again. The scherzo movement was very charming and original, though grotesque, and the slow movement pleased us most of all. It was simple and majestic, just such a strain as a lonely, boundless Russian steppe might suggest. The variations by Beethoven and quintette by Spohr were cleverly played. We have to congratulate Mr. Noll on his improved tone, and take leave to say that there is room for a like improvement in the second violin and vio- loncello. Our German friends sometimes seem to forget that the quality of tone is the essential element of a good quartette. Every instrument repre- sents a human voice, and. it is hardly necessary to say any thing by way of illustrating the value of quality of tone in the voice used as a musical instru 86 3fusw. [Jan., ment. Think of Steffanone and an old French actress, with thin cracked voice, singing the same melody, and you begin to appreciate our notion on this subject. The thought of Steffanone brings us naturally to the Academy of Music, where Italian opera so far has not been a very thriving affair. And this too, although a great variety of good operas, most of them well mounted, have been produced. There are several reasons to be given why the gentlemen who have undertaken to entertain the public at the Academy of Music, have done so at a very considerable loss. In the first place, the house is entirely too large, and not more than two thirds of the people it is capable of containing, can, when seated, see the stage. Those who are seated and can see the stage, are so crowded together and shut in from all approach, that they can speak to no one but their next neighbor. Now, as ladies never go to the opera with the man they wish most particu- larly to talk to, the present opera-house has no attraction for them. Fine dressing is thrown away too, every body is so far off that whether the dress one has on cost a dollar or ten a yard, can never be satisfactorily known to all ones female friends. The consequence of all this is, that you may go night after night to Fourteenth street and not see five out of the five hun- dred well-dressed and well-known women who occupied their scat every night at the Astor Place. And as if all these reasons were not enough, the prices of admission were put up so ridiculously high at the beginning of the season as completely to extinguish the last flicker of desire in any to enter the uncomfortable Academy of Music. Only to think of the madness that could imagine a number of live Yankees paying two dollars a head for se~~ured seats in the upper tier of boxes! We fancy they would be quite secure from occupants at two cents. It would require a much more popular troupe than the present one to counteract all these disadvantages. The lyric drama of Italy must be well played. It is not enough that the music is correctly rendered. Her unri- valled dramatic power has kept Grisi firmly seated on her throne. There is not an actor nor an actress in the present company, and that, considering its numbers, is a pretty extensive want. Four prima donnas, and the clev- erest of themand she nothing more than clever as an actressis Didi6e; three tenors, but, shade of Garrick! what sticks they are; two baritones, good jolly fellows with fine rich voices, and good singers, but surely the tragic muse will never claim them as the most illustrious of her children. This will never do for an Italian opera company in New-York. It is but justice, however, to say, that in comic opera, such as the Barber, they are excel- lent. We never saw this opera better done than by the present troupe. The incredible mastery of vocal difficulti~s by Lagrange pleases us in the fun-loving Hosina, and Rovere is just the best Dr. Bartolo alive. As singers, mere singers, the principal members of the troupe are excel- lent. Lagrange is the most astonishing vocalizer we ever heard. In rapidity, brilliancy, and precision of execution, in extraordinary compass of 185(3.] lilusic. 87 voice, and in endurance, she is truly wonderful. But she has not a single sympathetic tone, and her style is forced, unnatural, and artificial. Didi6e, is to us, the only really good artist in the troupe. She possesses a good contralto voice, sympathetic and rich in quality. She has learned to sing in a good school, and nature has given her what no school can, the power of genuine expression. She possesses no great force, she can not storm so grandly as Grisi, but her enchanting expression of the gentler emotions, compensates us, especially after late experiences, for her lack of capacity to Rachelize. Amodio and Morelli are both excellent artists, and have been gifted with good voices. The tenor Brignoli may make a good tenor if he ever learns that there is any other element of musical expression besides an incessant diminuendo and crescendo, employed with a regularity that very much resembles the movement of a pair of bellows in full operation. How- ever, as he monopolizes the manly beauty of the company, perhaps he can dispense with any improvement in his style of singing. Such we consider to be a pretty fair estimate of the merits of the present troupe, and we see no reason w by1 even without the drawbacks which belong of necessity to the Academy in Fourteenth street, any one should dream with such mate- rial to carry on a prosperous opera season in the city of New-York. THE following question, put by the Louisville Democrat, has a world of useful warning in it. We put it here that Democrats, ambitious of shining in a small way, as secretaries of public meetings, and so forth, may see what risk they run of burning their fingers in the flame of the torches which usually illuminate the stands. Speaking of the tricks of the Hindoos, to inveigle Democrats into their order, by making them conspicuous as officers on all public occasions, it asks very pertinently, Did any one ever see a no-pcsrty meeting gotten up, but a Democrat was }2ut in the chair, if one could be found in the crowd ? The Democrat might have added that they are placed in such positions from motives as disinterested as those which induced David to put Uriah in the front of the battle. 88 Literary Notice. LITERARY NOTICE. Widow Bedott Pc~per8. .N~w- YorA~: ~T. C. Derl~y. Bo8ton: Phillips, Sampson ~ Co. THERE are some people, we believe, who never laugh heartilywho would feel it undignified to do so. They should take care not to read the Widow Bedott Papersespecially not to read, or hear them read, aloudwhich makes their humor particularly telling, and laughter provoking. We confess we think the Widow herself has a leetle too much of human natur, and are not quite sure the world is the better for the exposure of all her weak- nesses. But Mrs. Maguires observations and experiences are not only capital as fun, but full of practical good sense. The witty authoress of the work, published as a volume, and not merely as articles in a magazine, only since her death, was the wife of a clergyman, and no one can doubt she drew her donation-parties, and sewing-societies, and country neigh- bors, from life. We dont commend the book to the very grave, who are accustomed to be shocked when others are merry, and we advise the fasti- dious to read it only now and then, by single chapters, but even they will find in it food for thought, and hints for action, as well as matter for mirth. THE MOST NOTABLE OF NOTABLE THINGS. Or all the notable things on earth, The queerest one is pride of birth, Among our fierce Democracy 1 A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save from sneers Not even a couple of rotten Peers A thing for laughter, sneers, and jeers, Is American aristderacy!

88 Literary Notice. LITERARY NOTICE. Widow Bedott Pc~per8. .N~w- YorA~: ~T. C. Derl~y. Bo8ton: Phillips, Sampson ~ Co. THERE are some people, we believe, who never laugh heartilywho would feel it undignified to do so. They should take care not to read the Widow Bedott Papersespecially not to read, or hear them read, aloudwhich makes their humor particularly telling, and laughter provoking. We confess we think the Widow herself has a leetle too much of human natur, and are not quite sure the world is the better for the exposure of all her weak- nesses. But Mrs. Maguires observations and experiences are not only capital as fun, but full of practical good sense. The witty authoress of the work, published as a volume, and not merely as articles in a magazine, only since her death, was the wife of a clergyman, and no one can doubt she drew her donation-parties, and sewing-societies, and country neigh- bors, from life. We dont commend the book to the very grave, who are accustomed to be shocked when others are merry, and we advise the fasti- dious to read it only now and then, by single chapters, but even they will find in it food for thought, and hints for action, as well as matter for mirth. THE MOST NOTABLE OF NOTABLE THINGS. Or all the notable things on earth, The queerest one is pride of birth, Among our fierce Democracy 1 A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save from sneers Not even a couple of rotten Peers A thing for laughter, sneers, and jeers, Is American aristderacy!

88 Literary Notice. LITERARY NOTICE. Widow Bedott Pc~per8. .N~w- YorA~: ~T. C. Derl~y. Bo8ton: Phillips, Sampson ~ Co. THERE are some people, we believe, who never laugh heartilywho would feel it undignified to do so. They should take care not to read the Widow Bedott Papersespecially not to read, or hear them read, aloudwhich makes their humor particularly telling, and laughter provoking. We confess we think the Widow herself has a leetle too much of human natur, and are not quite sure the world is the better for the exposure of all her weak- nesses. But Mrs. Maguires observations and experiences are not only capital as fun, but full of practical good sense. The witty authoress of the work, published as a volume, and not merely as articles in a magazine, only since her death, was the wife of a clergyman, and no one can doubt she drew her donation-parties, and sewing-societies, and country neigh- bors, from life. We dont commend the book to the very grave, who are accustomed to be shocked when others are merry, and we advise the fasti- dious to read it only now and then, by single chapters, but even they will find in it food for thought, and hints for action, as well as matter for mirth. THE MOST NOTABLE OF NOTABLE THINGS. Or all the notable things on earth, The queerest one is pride of birth, Among our fierce Democracy 1 A bridge across a hundred years, Without a prop to save from sneers Not even a couple of rotten Peers A thing for laughter, sneers, and jeers, Is American aristderacy! L7~

THE UNITED STATES DEMOCRATIC REVIEW. FEBRUARY, 1856. THE UNIONTHE DANGERS WHICH BESET IT. NUMBER TWO. OUR first number closed with a rapid digest of the authori. ties relating to the subject of the temporal jurisdiction of the S~e of. Rome, and in what manner it was construed and accepted by the clergy and laity of Europe. Let us see how the matter stands in the United States. Some thirty years ago, that great, good, and learned Catholic, Bishop England, a man respected and esteemed by all who knew him, said: It is a heresy in religion, it is an absurdity in polit{cs, to assert that because a roan possesses political power, therefore he possesses ecclesiasti- cal jurisdiction: or that, because he has spiritual power, he, therefore, has magisterial rights in the State. The doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, and the principles of the American Constitution are in unison upon this subject.Englande WOTJOS, Vol. 2, p. 249. Again, in same volume, p. 251, he says: Let the Pope and Cardinals, and all the powers of the Catholic world united, make the least encroachment on that Constitution, (of the U. S.,) we will protect it with our lives. Summon a general council. Let that council interfere in the mode of our electing but an assistant turnkey of a prisonwe deny its right; we reject its usurpation. Let that council lay 7 90 The Union~ the Dctnger8 which 1~eset it. [Feb., a tax of one cent only upon any of our churches, we will not pay it. Yet, we are most obedient Papists, etc. At p. 252 of the same ~o1ume,in terms still more emphatic, he says: Roman Catholics believe the Pope to be the successor of St. Peter, and, therefore, to be entitled to a supremacy of honor and distinction through the whole of the Christian world. This, however, is only that which is due to a spiritual head. This jurisdiction is only in spiritual and ecclesiastical concerns. The American Constitution leaves its citizens in perfect freedom to have whom they please to regulate their spiritual concerns. But if the Pope were to declare war against America, and any Roman Catholic, under the pretext of spiritual obedience, was to refuse to oppose this temporal aggressor, he would deserve to be punished for his refusal, because he owes to his country to maintain its rights; and spiritual power does not and can not destroy the claim which the government has upon him. Bishop Spaulding, in his Evidences of Catholicity, p. 338, emphatically denies this charge. He says: But the Papacy invested itself with temporal powers; and in the mid- dle ages, it claimed the right to depose princes, and to absolve their sub- jects from the oath of allegiance. Be it so; what then? Was this acces- sion of temporal power ever viewed as an es3ential prerogative of the Pa- pacy? or was it not considered merely as an accidental appendage; the creature of peculiar circumstances? Are there any examples of such al- leged usurpations during the first ten centuries of its history? Has this power been exercised, or even claimed, by the Roman Pontiffs for the last three centuries? If these two facts are undoubtedas they certainly are then how maintain that a belief in the Papacy involves a recognition of its temporal power? Was the latter ever a doctrine of the Catholic Church? If it was, where is the proof; where the Church definition that made it a doctrine? Did not five leading Catholic Universities, when officially called on by Mr. Pitt, Prime Minister of Great Britain, solemnly and unanimously disclaim this opinion, and maintain the precise contrary? Did the Catholic Church; did the Popes ever rebuke them for the disclaimer? Do not Catholics all over the WORLD now almost unanimously disclaim it? And are they the less Catholic for this? I fearlessly assertand I do it advis- edlythat there are very few Catholics at the present day who do not reject this opinionthat there are still fewer, if any, who maintain itand that it is not allowed to be defended, at least publicly, even in Rome itse~f Such being clearly the case, is not all this clamor about the tempomal power of the Pope a mere devicea conjuring up of a phantom in the past, for the~ purpose of frightening persons of weak nerves into a hatred of the Papacy ? The Catholic Council of New-York, in its last pastoral address, uses the following language: Your first duty is to God and your holy faith. Your second subordi- nate, but in its own sphere equally supreme, loyalty to your country, in all 91 1856.] The Uhiom the .Dctngere which 1~eeet it. her vicissitudes of prosperity or of adversity, if God should so permit her to be tried, etc. The Catholic Council of Baltimore, in April last, we believe in their pastoral letter, address the following advice to th~ Catholic people: To the general and State governmepts you owe allegiance in all as regards the civil order. The authorities of the Church challenge your obe- ditnee in things of salvation. We have no need of pressing this distinction, which you fully understand and constantly observe. You know that we have uniformly taught you, both publicly and privately, to perform all the duties of good citizens, and that we have never exacted of you, as we our- selves have never made, even to the highest ecclesiastical authority, any engagements inconsistent with the duties we owe to the country and its laws. On every opportune occasion we have avowed these principles; and, even in our communication to the late Pontiff we rejected, as a calumny,, the imputation that we were in civil matters subject to his authority. Be not disturbed at the misstatements of our tenets which are daily made, or at the effort to deprive us of our civil rights, and of the confidence and esteem of our fellow.citizens, etc. Bishop Hughes, of New.York; Bishop McGill, of Richmond, and, indeed, every bishop and priest in the United States, have denied the truth of this charge, and no Catholic, save one, in the United States, asserts it. If the Pope had, or claimed any such paramount allegiance, so important in its character, it is wonderful that he did not punish or rebuke the insubordinate and rebellious spirits in Europe and America, who denied it. At this day, the main authority relied upon to sustain this monstrous charge, is Mr. Orestes A. Brownson, the editor of Browrisoris Review, a not very ancient convert to Catholicism, who is the only Catholic in the United States that does claim this power for the Pope; but who is not the Catholic Church, nor authorized to speak for it. He claims it as a mere deduc- tion from the ecclesiastical supremacy of the Pope. Of this claim, on the part of Mr. Browuson, Archbishop Kenrick, of Baltimore, in reply to an inquiry of the Protestant Bishop of Vermont, makes the following satisfactory disposition: Although I addressed this distinguished publicist (Brownson) in 1846, in terms of high commenTdation of his zeal and ability in defense of the Catholic faith which he had embraced but two years before, and the other bishops concurred with me, none of us thought of rendering ourselves re- sponsible for whatever views he might afterwards entertain, as he himself has recently avowed most distinctly, to correct the abuse made of our signa- tures which are represented as implying an unqualified indorsement of all 92 The Union tkc Dangers which be8et it. [Feb., hi~ sentiments. Most assuredly I dissent from him, if he claims for the Pope any right to interfere with our civil allegiance. With his full know- ledge and approval Catholics everywhere pledge and render it to the government under which they live; knowing that it is a duty independent of all ecclesiastical sanction. In addition to all this, there has not been, in our whole his- tory, a single instance in which the Pope claimed, or the Catholics yielded; any action or duty, in peace or in w~r, or uttered any sentiment of obedience incompatible wi* tl~e strictest allegiance or most devoted loyalty, to the goveA~~t of the United States. In wax, they have proved themseive gallant and faithful soldiefa~: *nd, in peace, quiet and valuable citizens; as much so a~ ~y Protestant denomination. Why then, disfranchise thentmany of them native-born citizens of their civil priviIeg~s? In Christian devotion and charity; in loyalty to the Union, and the free institutions of the coun- try; in fidelity to the national flag, and in all the qualities of good citizens, they are as far superior to the political clergy- men, who have been, and are now, engaged in finning the flames of discord between North and South, as an angel of ~light to a demon of perdition, or as Montgomery to Arnold. In every oath of allegiance which a foreign-born Catholic takes, on being naturalized, he expressly abjures all political allegiance to all and every prince, power or potentate, what- ever, which embraces the Pope as a temporal prince. Now, if they retain paxamount allegiance to the Pope, they all com- mit a willful and deliberate perjury, which, as to the great mass, is uncharitable to believe and cruel to charge; particu- larly, when no act incompatible with the greatest loyalty and utmost ficklity to our institutions, has ever been exhibited. We regard this idea of allegiance to two independent govern- ments one paramount to the other,: as supremely ridiculous and t~bsurdj an anomaly in politics, which has no other existence thain in the inventive brain of scheming religious bigots. We all know what Washington, Jefferson, Madison and a whole host of their patriotic cotemporaries thought of religious liberty, and the entire freedom of conscience. We all know, that, well acquainted with Roman Catholicism, with all its objectionable features, they intended th~t~ there should be no ineligibility to office on account of religi~us opinion, and that, under the benignant influence of this t~daxnental principle of true liberty, pure and undefiled religiori~4~s fi~urished in this country beyond all exara~ie. In a d~tt~x 1t~ all they ha~re 1856.] Rhe Union~ the Danger8 which be8et it. 93 said, we subjoin the following explicit and most eloquent remarks of the late Mr. Webster, the greatest statesman that New-England ever produced, which thouoh hend the whole ground. brief; compre In his great discourse delivered at Plymouth Rock, iDecem- her, 1820, Mr. Webster said: The principle of religious toleration, to which the world has come so slowly, is at once the most just and the most wise of all principles) Again, he says: Thanks be to God, that this spot was honored as the asylum of religious liberty. May its standard, reared here, remain for ever 1May it rise up as high as heaven, till its banners shall fan the air of both continents, and wave as a glorious ensign of peace and security to the nations 1 In one of his letters he remarks as follows: It seems to be the American destiny, the mission which ~ b.ewi intrusted to us here on this shore of the Atlantic, the great concepW~~i the great duty to which we are born, to show that all sects and all enomi nations, professing reverence for the authority of the Author of our being, and belief in his revelations, may be safely tolerated without prejudice either in our religion or our liberties. We are Protestants generally speaking; but you all know that there presides at the head of the Supreme Judicature of the United States, a Roman Catholic; and no man, I suppose, throughout the whole United States, imagines that the judicature is less safe; that the administration of public justice is less respectable or less secure, because the Chief-Justice of the United States has been, and is, a firm adherent of that religion. And so ~t is in every department of society amongst us, etc. There is no necessity of voting for a Roman Catholic because he is one, nor should he be excluded because he is one. Every true man should vote or not for .~ Roman Catholic, as his qualifications might determine. The first inquiry should be, Is he honest, is he faithful, is he ~apa. ble? and if he is, the second inquiry should be, Is he more so, than his Protestant competitor? If he be, select him. If his Protestant competitor be more so than he, select the Protest- ant. If qualifications be equal, other considerations, not af- fecting the public interest, may determine; for the country will suffer no detriment by the selection of either. We think the people are very, capable of selecting, as well between the trust- worthy and untrustw - y Catholics, as they are between the trustworthy and nat ~tworthy Protestants, and that they are sufficiently im~s ith the importance of the duty to 94 The Union the Danger8 which he~et it. [Feb., perform it judiciously. The principles of this American party would kindle a flame in the iRepublic of such intensity, that it could not be extinguished, until a common ruin had enveloped the civil and religious liberty of the people, tho institutions of the country, and the Unioiii of these once free, happy, prosperous, and powerful States. Let every Democrat determine to resist it at all hazards, and to the last extremity. By it, they \vill neither advance the cause of religion nor suppress Catholicism. The Protestant prophets have been assuring the world, that IRomanism was accursed of God and must surely fall, and some of them have calculated the very day of its final over- throw; and yet they profess to be awfully afraid that it is about to sweep over the world, like a sirocco blast! Do they distrust Godif not, why are they afraid? The next engine which the American party has brought to play upon the Democratic party, and the quiet of the country, is that of foreignism. The Catholic question was intended to operate upon the religious bigotry, and the foreign upon the native prejudices of the countryboth of them formid- able, when brought to play upon, feelings already intensely excited. They would have us believe, in spite of the every- day proofs to the contrary, that there is neither virtue, intelli- gence nor love of freedom in any country but this. That no foreign-born citizen can so far forget the land of his nativity, as to feel that affection for the land of his adoption, which will make it safe to trust him with office, or even the right of suf- frage. That he is too stupid to understand the value of liberty and the principles of our institutions, until after twenty-one years schooling! All this they urge, with a zeal and pertina- city, which, to a casual observer, would induce the belief that they are sincere! But, in our humble opinion, there was no sincerity in its originators. It was intended to delude and deceive, until other and more ambitious projects were consum- mated. Now, a few facts and a few illustrations will dissipate this scheme, and scatter it into thin air. We can point to the peopling of our Republic by foreigners. We can trace in our past history their patient endurance, painful toils, severe suffering, intrepid services and faithful devotion to the flag of the Union, under circumstances, some- times, of the strongest temptation to abandon it. We can per- ceive in our past as well as our prese~ history, proofs that they are industrious, quiet, peaceful, and enterprising citi- zens, and, for the number that has come among us, a most 1856.] The Union the Dangers which beset it. 95 wonderful exhibition of loyalty to our institutions. In war, although they composed the material part of our regular armies and ships crews, they have been gallant, faithful, and true. So much so, that our most distinguished commanders, by land and sea, commend their gallantry and fidelityamong them is scarcely ever a desertion. In peace, there have been no conspiracies, no schemes, no plots to overthrow or subvert our IRepublican institutions, or subject them to any foreign domination. All the schemes and plots and conspiracies, which have ever been gotten up to dissolve this Union, sub. vert this government, or subject us to foreign domination and influence, have been the work of native-born New-Englanders! We do not speak it angrily; but with hearty sorrow. New- England has the misfortune to furnish the entire material of disunion, raw and manufactured for the rest of the Republic. This hostility to foreigners commenced during the session of the Convention that framed the Constitution, by those of its members who subsequently proved themselves to be monocrats and federalists in principle and in feeling. It was renewed by the federal administration of John Adams, in the alien and sedition laws, which the IDemocratic party so indignantly and so terribly overthrew. It was again renewed by the Hartford Convention, that memorable body, which was engaged in schemes of treason, and busied in paralyzing the arm of the American government, when engaged in our arduous and doubtful struggle with Great Britain; while foreigners, now so odious to them, were carrying the flag of the Union in tri- umph, over the bloody fields of Chippewa, Bridgewater and New-Orleans, and humbling the flag of the proud mistress of the ocean. In which should the American people confide? Those plotting and secret schemers against the Union and the Constitution, or those who shed their hearts blood in the defense of our institutions and for the glory of our. flag? In those armies, and in those ships crews, were many Irishmen, fighting against the armies of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Irelandand yet they wavered not! !they fal- tered not!! Can the American people withhold from these men the full privileges of citizenship, when they freely offer their blood and treasure, in proof of their fidelity to the flag and devotion to the institutions of the country? What stronger evidence can they afford of their fidelity? What is it that produces this attachment to our institutions, and devotion to our flag? It is the simple fact, that our insti- tutions open to them the path to honor, wealth, and prefer- 96 The Union~ the Pan ger.~ which be& ~t it. [Feb., rnenta path which was closed to them in the land of their nativity. Close this door, and you dry up every feeling of sympathy and devotion to our country, and make aliens and enemies of them. The American party speaks most wailingly of foreign influ- ence and of the necessity of Americans ruling America. For men who desire to take upon themselves the entire jurisdiction of the politics of the country, this is the most miserable and contemptible clap-trap ever attempted to be played off upon a confiding people. We would inquire of these gentlemen, when it was, since the close of the Revolution, that any other than Americans ruled America, and who now but Ameri- cans rule America? The Governor, the Legislature, the Con- gress, the Judiciary? President or Vice-President, a fort cigner can not be. We should be gratified to receive the information, for it has escaped both our reading and observa- tion. There is scarcely ever a foreigner by birth, either in Congress, in the State Legislatures, or in the Federal or State Judiciaries. No measure has been adopted by the federal government, in the slightest degree tinctured with foreign influence. In some instances the votes of foreign-born citizens may have de~ided an election between native-born candidates; but this could only affect the ascendency of one or the other of the parties which divide the people, and it still leaves Americans to rule America. We defy the proof; that the relations of the country with foreign powers, or any measure of the government has been prejudiced by foreigners, or in the slightest degree tinctured with foreign influence. This cry about foreign influence is a miserable humbug, worthy of political intriguers and tricksters, but altogether unworthy of statesmen and patriots, dealing with the great political rights and interests of 30,000,000 of people. Foreigners are induced to emigrate here, because our extensive domain and produc- tive soil afford them the means of sustenance and comfort, and our institutions protection and freedom, beyond what they enjoyed in Europe. And when they do come, they have as strong inducements to defend and maintain them, as the na- tives have. The privileges and franchises of citizenship, which the government holds out to them, are the very strong- est inducements to patriotism and fidelity, which can be pre- sented. It has, heretofore, attracted to our country, some of the ablest, most learned and useful men of Europe, and while many vicious have come, from too much relaxation in the cxc- 18563 .7uIze Uo~. tk ~Da1~yer8 which leset it OT cution of the naturalization laws, the great mass has been of valuable men, and made useful citizens. But after all, judging of the future by the past, what danger is there to our institutions from the foreign-born population? In 1800, our whole population, native and foreign, black and white, was 5,000,000; in 1810, 7,000,000; in 1820, 9,000,000; in 1880, 12,000,000; in 1840, 17,000,000, and, in 1850, 28,000,000; now, about 27,000,000, of which 4,000,000 are slaves, and not exceeding 8,000,000 foreign-bornso, that the native exceeds the foreign-born population, at least 20,000,000, or more than the whole population in 1840, or any preceding decade. When, then, according to the best arithmetic, save that of Know-Nothingism, will the foreign become equal to the native population, so as to exert any controlling influence, good or bad, upon our social interests, or endanger our free institutions? Certainly not before the stars fall. If some of our learned politicians would visit some of the new States, filled up, almost entirely, by foreign emigrants and their im- mediate descendants, and see their prosperous agriculture, skillful mechanics, moral and religious bearing and industrious habits, and withal their great devotion to the Union and our free institutions, they would come to the conclusion that these people, after all, were not so dangerous to either liberty or virtue as they are represented to be, and that the great mass of them were not to be judged or estimated by those miserably- depraved wretches, who gather about and infest our large cities. They are a different kind of people. To proscribe and disfranchise those, who are already natu.- ralized, as proposed by the American party, would be faith- less and perfidious, and create within our midst, a class hostile to our government. It would arouse a feeling of hostility among the people of other countries prejudicial to our interests, and exclude from the emigration here, the intelligent, the virtuous, and the learned, and bring us only those who care nothing for God or man, or the form of government under which they live. To create a privileged and a proscribed class; to put Catholics and naturalized citizens upon the footing of convicts and free negroes, would sow the whirlwind, and a few years would bring us the storm, and a destructive one it would be. With an area of 3,000,000 of squmwe miles, capable of sus- taining a population of 700,000,000, it is ridiculous to talk about an excess of population, when we have but 27,000,000. A thousand years would not make it as dense as it is in $ 98 like Uhion tke Dangers wkick beset ii. [Feb., Europe, or even in Massachusettsthat spot particularly set apart for religious, political, and moral volcanic eruptions. The federal government, by the Constitution, has no power over the subject of immigration, save only, to pass uniform laws of naturalization, which it has done and which have been in operation fifty-three years, with great success. Who shall emigrate here and who shall exercise the right of suffrage, is a matter belonging solely and exclusively to the States. In whatever State unnaturalized foreigners are permitted to vote, that State has the power to correct it; and in whatever State convicts and paupers from foreign countries land, that State may prohibit them; the federal government has no power to do it. In the whole South, by the last census, there were but 336,000 foreigners, naturalized or not. Why should the South suffer herself to be thrown into commotion on this account, when she is not suffering, or in the remotest danger of suffer. ing from this cause, if there was any thing in it? From its foundation, it has been the policy of our govern- menta policy founded in the niost elevated principles of humanity, liberality, and hospitalityto invite to our country the learned, the virtuous, the enterprising and industrious of other countries, and to make it an asylum for the down-trod- den, oppressed, and distressed of every land; and, in order to win their affections and acquire their confidence, we have held out to them the inducement of full and free citizenship with- out distinction~of birth. The result has been, to fill our coun- try with good citizens, and our armies and navies with gallant and faithful soldiers. Why change a system tbat has worked so successfully, without the slightest detriment? We, at least, are not willing to see the experiment made. If Greece and Rome had given full citizenship to the people they conquered, it would have created an attachment to their governments so ardent, that neither Macedonian phalanxes, nor Gothic and Van- dal hordes could have subdued them. Give these people the pri- vileges of full and complete citizenship, and no foreign influ- ence can detach their allegiance or shake their fidelity to our government. Actual experience has demonstrated this. In the present aspect of the sectional controversy between North and South, it seems to us that this attempted proscrip- tion and disfranchisement by the South, is perfectly suicidal. The very sin charged upon these people, by Northern isms is, that in the exercise of the right of suffrage, they cast their votes for the men, who, standing upon the faith of the Consti- tution, sustain the Constitutional rights of the South. If the 1856.J TAo Union ~ko IXtn~-,er8 wkicA be6et it. South be right, the course of our adopted citizens, in sustain- ing them must be right, and should be approved, at leas4 by the South. In the late presidential election, when the strongest appeals were made, and the most seductive influences employed by the late Whig party, bringing to its aid the glare of military renown, they were impregnable and faithful to the cause of Democracy; and why should Democrats distrust them now? Washington, Jefferson, Madison and a host of able and patri- otic cotemporaries confided in thema confidence never be- trayedand why should we distrust their fidelity? We may be assured there is no reality in these professed apprehensions. It is another attempt at Barnumnizing, to enable its perpetra- tors to seize the government, and divide the spoils. There may be, and no doubt are, many bad men among the foreign- ers in our country, and there are certainly many, as many, comparatively speaking, as among the natives. The statistics of crime, exhibited by the last census, show this. In casting our suifrages or making appointments to office, the eligibility of foreign-born citizens does not necessarily put them into office, and no party maintains that, where qualifications are equal, the foreigner should be preferred. On the contrary, we all admit that the native should be preferred, and there is scarcely an instance in the history of the government in which this rule has been departed from. The Anierican party goes for a total exclusion, however.high the qualification, or virtuous the man; which, we think totally at war with the genius of our free institutions. Leave the voter or the ap- pointing power, when the suffrage is cast, or the appointment made, to determine this question of preference, as existing cir- cumstances decree, and the best interests of the country may require. The Democratic party, following the lead of its wise and patriotic founders, Jefferson, Madison, and others, is op- posed to any material alteration of the existing naturalization laws, except so far as to procure their more cautious and effi- cient execution. The fugitive-slave law of 185O~1, by which the federal government took upon itself through its own officers, the re- clamation of fugitive slaves, as provided for in the constitu- tiona law made necessary by the refusal of the Northern States to execute the act of 1793, to give effect to this consti- tutional provisionis now a source of bitter controversy. By the constitutional compact, the free States undertook, and in good faith were bound to execute this provision, which they 100 [Eke Union dJi& Ji)awge,r& whick beset it. [Feb., failed to do. When Congress undertook to perform the duty imposed by this provision, the Abolition and Free-Soil parties of the Northern States not only refused to execute it, but resisted, defied, and nullified it, and then prated most vociferously about the faith of compromises and the Missouri perfidy. Judg- ing them by their actions, they have determined to afford an asylum to runaway slaves, protect slave-stealers and hold out inducements to slaves to run away from their owners. Is this honestis it good faithis it abiding the Constitution, or is it fraternal to the people of the South? In this sectional quarrel, in which so many of the most exciting elements are brought to bear, all at the same j uncture of time, and when the elements of discord have been fanned by fanatics and traitors, into such an intense blaze, is there any hope that the Union can be preserved? Is it not greatly to be feared that foreign intrigue, unhallowed treason, unscrupu- lous ambition and mad fanaticism are about to accomplish that work of direful calamity, the dissolution of this great, this powerful and this beneficent Union this mighty edifice, erected by unsurpassed wisdom, ardent love of liberty and unequalled patriotism. When we look through the vista of the future, and see the possibility of such an event, and the weight of responsibility which will rest upon those who shall have wrought the mighty ruin, the mind naturally recurs to the question: Where lies the wrongat what door the sin? We proclaim the Sbuth is innocent. By the Union, the South gained in her political, but lost in her pecuniary interests, while the North gained both politically and pecuniarily, as the statistics of commerce conclusively prove. By the Union, we have been protected and strength- ened, until we have grown to be a powerful, prosperous, and free people, and promise, in these elements of greatness, to eclipse the world. In the history of our progress, the South demanded no sacrifice of principle or interest on the part of the North, to their sectional views, save the compacts of the Constitution, and without which the Constitution would not have been made, or the Union founded. All that the South ever demanded or now demands, is, the observance of these compactsits national beneficence, and its sectional and individual equalities. This every Democratic administration, sustained by the Democratic party, always has, and now accords. What is the course of the free-soil partythe Re- publicans (proh pudor!) of the North? They have not only demanded a system of measures, calculated to promote their 1856.] f/ike Unirn the Dangers which beset it. 101 sectional interest at the expense of the South, but they de- mand to prescribe to the South her moral and religious opin- ions; to abolish Slavery as it existed at the time of the form- ation of the government; to prohibit Slavery in any of the territories; to dictate to any new State coming into the Union whether Slavery shall be one of its domestic institutions; to prohibit the sale and transfer of slaves, from one of the Slave- States to the other; to withhold from their owners fugitive slaves, and, in a word, to confine Slavery within its present limits, until they have so encompassed us about, that, when they have acciuired sufficient strength, they may crush it out and entirely. All these purposes, now openly avowed by the fanatics of the North, violating, as they do, the vital in- terests and rights of the South, i~nd annihilating her independ- ence and destroying her prosperity and safety, it is expected of the South, and demanded, that she shall submit to, for the sake of the Union. Let the Abolition-Republicans of the North be assured that she will not! Her spirit of independ- ence, her sense of justice, her knowledge of her rights, and her stern and lofty honor, will not permit it. The Union will cease to be dear to her, if she by it is to be provincialized, domineered, and tyrannized over, with more cruelty than in the days of her colonial bondaoe If in the providence of God, these Northern fanatics, traitors, and disorganizers shall succeed in dissolving this Union who, or what is to be the gainer? Religion ?it will undergo the eclipse of ages. Liberty ?she will be buried in the ruins of the conflagration, without hope of resurrection. Free insti- tutions ?there will scarcely be a wreck of them left. Intolera- ble and crushing despotisn~ will be reared upon their ruins. The North ?she will make perpetual and irreconcileable ene- mies of a race of virtuous, independent people, who by a fair, a liberal, a just, and conciliatory course might have been made sincere and valuable friends. The slaves ?they will be trans- ferred only to a new set of masters and a severer bondage. The world ?the nations will only see the last hope of liberty and free institutions fall into ruins, proclaiming in their fall the incapacity of man for self-government. What calamities will ensue? bloody, and desolating wars, waged with a fero- city and bitterness never before experienced. The conflict of kindred against kindred, for the sake of an inferior race. The wreck of free 1nst~tutions, the crush of freedoms last hope the annihilation of commerce, the extinction of civil and reli- gious liberty, and the establishment of a swarm of unmitigated despotisms. Whether in the long, the bitter, the devastating 102 The Union, the Dangers which beset it. [Feb., and bloody strife, the North or the South shall triumph in the work of destruction, they will but acquire the wreck of power, the ruins of liberty, and a devastated and blighted country. The victor xviii be the vanquished. To avoid these woeful results and sad calamities, the Demo- cratic party North and South, is most ardently strugglingpro- claiming its determined purpose to maintain the Constitution, and the rightsof the South, or perish in the struggle. And what do we see? It is the Southern wing of the American party of which we do not intend to utter an unkind word, or of whose motives make the slightest impeachment, which is engaged in a league and making common cause with the Whigs, Abolitionists, Free-Soilers and American party of the North in a furious and uncompromising war upon the Democratic party, while the Southern American party, if we are to believe their profes- sions, are diametrically opposed to the objects of the Northern party. Thus the South sees in the hands of her inveterate enemies, an arrow feathered from her own wing ready to be sped to her heart. Does not the Southern wing of the Ame- rican party see, that to overthrow the Democratic party is but to put fanaticism, folly, and Northern domination into power? lATe wish the limits of this article, already so protracted, would permit us to cull from their various sources, the un- mistakable evidence that every party and fragment of a party at the North, save the Democratic party, is hostile to the South, and that in crushing the Democratic party, they design to crush the rights of the South if; by any means, they can acquire the strength. In this day, when the political elements are in such fierce agitation and threaten a storm s~ calamitous; when the array of sectional battle is already drawn, and the bloody strife al- most ready to commence, why is it, that many of our greatest and most patriotic statesmenmen whose moral and political influence is sufficient to hush the storm and calm the waves of civil strife, Achilles-like remain in their tents, indifferent to the gathering danger? Now is the time for such men to in- terpose between the excited sections, stay the hand of aggres- sion, proclaim the truths of the Constitution, restore confidence between eitiz~n and citizen, save the Union from destruction, and our happy institutions from ruin. We have been more than surprised at the discontents with the present administration. Upon the slavery question its course ha~ been all that Franklin Pierce expressed previous to his election, and in strict accordance with the Constitution and the Democratic platform. Its state papers have been able 1866.] The Union the Dangrs which leset it. 103 and soundly Democratic, and its course mild but firm and decisive. We know of no preceding administration, in which the principles of Democracy have been more truly and faith- fully pursued. It is true, Gen. Pierce has made some injudi- cious appointments, that had better not have been made and wbat administration has not? but this is no apology for men calling themselves Democrats, for forsaking their party and its principles, and going over to its adversary. Petulance, resent- ment, and private grief should never enter into the considera- tion of governmental administration. We should bear much personal wrong and disappointment, before we abandon a party that maintains those fundamental principles upon which our republican institutions and thc perpetuity of the Union is- founded. Thus, we have expressed our views of the present and fears of the future. We trust in Heaven that our fears will never be realized, and that our apprehended dangers may prove to be but the phantoms of an over-excited imagination. We know we love our country, her free institutions and the Union, and should be thrice happy to see the threatened dangers disappear; but we believe the South has been wronged, outraged, and calumniated, and her rights put in jeopardy. We shall be gratified if in this crude article there shall be found some thought which may be valuable, and awaken the South to a sense of its danger and the necessity of unanimity to avert it. While the rapid whirl of time has greatly improved the in- telligence of the American people, the present condition of things demonstrates the fact that they have neither improved in feelings of public virtue or in the science of free government. We seem about to exhibit that depravity and that recklessness of fanaticism which heretofore caused others to throw away the great blessings of free government, for the curse of despotism. The Ca~sars and Arnolds are too numerous for the Bruti and Washingtons, and anarchy and disorganization are perhaps about to triumph over order and public virtue. The anarchists, the traitors, the fanatics and the factionists of the North are eager to pull down, trample under foot, and destroy the fairest and best-constructed fabric of human liberty, which the wit of man ever did or ever will again devise. Twenty-four million of people are to be enslaved by men of their own race, that three and a half millions of another and an inferior race may change masters! We are neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but we venture the prediction, that if the struggle which now seems 104: Medea. [Feb., almost inevitable shall come; if a political earthquake shall shake this great temple of liberty and free institutions into ruins; that in its fall it will not crush the slaveholding States only, but the Northern Statesthose very States that set it in motionwith them. They and their posterity, in con- templating the ruins which their madness and folly have wrought, will deeply lament the rashness which precipitated it. In this fierce and almost unequal contest of the Democracy with these fearful factions, there is one thing that strikes with peculiar astonishment; it is, that there are so many members of the Whig party, who know and feel that the Democratic party are engaged in desperate struggle to save the Union and Constitution, and yet who so far remember and cherish the animosities and prejudices of by-gone conflicts as to aid the traitorous and disorganizing factions, by either affording direct assistance or by standing idly by. Eternal honor and gratitude await the noble self-sacrificing patriots, who, true to the sublime instincts of liberty, rally to the support of the Democratic party, in this evident, portentous and doubtful struggle, on which is staked liberty, republican institutions, and the Union. LYNOIIBURG, VA. J. G MEDEA. SENECA, ACT I. Meden, abandoned by Jason, Invokes revenge. I. YE Gods ot marriage, guardians of the bed Hallowed by sacred rites! Why to our shores was conquering Tethys led By heavens eternal lights? Wherefore, stern ruler of the sounding sea Wherefore, nil-seeing sun Wherefore, thou three-formed goddess, Hecate, Was his course safely run? II. Come, thou lost woman, to revenge invoke The Gods of heaven and hell! They to whom Jason sware the oaths he broke When wronged Medea fell.

104: Medea. [Feb., almost inevitable shall come; if a political earthquake shall shake this great temple of liberty and free institutions into ruins; that in its fall it will not crush the slaveholding States only, but the Northern Statesthose very States that set it in motionwith them. They and their posterity, in con- templating the ruins which their madness and folly have wrought, will deeply lament the rashness which precipitated it. In this fierce and almost unequal contest of the Democracy with these fearful factions, there is one thing that strikes with peculiar astonishment; it is, that there are so many members of the Whig party, who know and feel that the Democratic party are engaged in desperate struggle to save the Union and Constitution, and yet who so far remember and cherish the animosities and prejudices of by-gone conflicts as to aid the traitorous and disorganizing factions, by either affording direct assistance or by standing idly by. Eternal honor and gratitude await the noble self-sacrificing patriots, who, true to the sublime instincts of liberty, rally to the support of the Democratic party, in this evident, portentous and doubtful struggle, on which is staked liberty, republican institutions, and the Union. LYNOIIBURG, VA. J. G MEDEA. SENECA, ACT I. Meden, abandoned by Jason, Invokes revenge. I. YE Gods ot marriage, guardians of the bed Hallowed by sacred rites! Why to our shores was conquering Tethys led By heavens eternal lights? Wherefore, stern ruler of the sounding sea Wherefore, nil-seeing sun Wherefore, thou three-formed goddess, Hecate, Was his course safely run? II. Come, thou lost woman, to revenge invoke The Gods of heaven and hell! They to whom Jason sware the oaths he broke When wronged Medea fell. 3liedea. Chaos and Night, black as my grief and choice Souls of the damned, I call; Dark Plutob! with no auspicious voice I do adjure ye all I III. Ye without pity, ye with torments bound, Whose foul and matted hair With hissing serpents wreathed, shakes horror round, And terrible despair; Ye who with bloody hand the torch embrace Which lights the damned to woe Grant to Medea all your deadly grace To curse her deadliest foe! I-v.. Come as of yore ye stood my bed beside, Sublime in that dark grace~ When by my hand husband and father died, And perished all their race. And if there be a greater ill in life, In hell a keener woe, Grant that my husband false, in death and life Such agony may know! V. Gods! let him live to wander far away Where unknown cities rise, Hated and trembling, exiled and astray, Beneath the strangers skies. Weak and in want, without or friend or home, Type of a living lie, Let your whips drive him hopeless still to roam, Till he drop down to die. VI. Yea! bend his proud heart with your lash of fire Until, in abject fear, Me he may long foreven me desire, And wish Medea near. And, last and worstO Gods of Hell! the worst May he more children raise, Dread as Medea when their sire she cursed, And than himself more base! 8 1856.] 105 1 (~ Bctd~m-Bctden. [Feb., BAD EN - BAD EN. BY EUGENE GUINOT. THE season at Baden commences in the month of May; the official open- ing takes place towards the close of spring, and from that period the fashion- able world begins ~to arrive: at first, slowly by ones and twos; then the ranks close up, the crowd increases gradually and becomes every day more numerous and brilliant. Those who having been the first to arrive have made excursions into the Black Forest and the Grand Duchy which borders on the Rhine, Switzerland, and Wurtemberg, find on their return, the city invested by a splendid army to which every nation of Europe has furnished a picked contingent. Baden now presents itself under a new aspect; hav- ing surprised it making ready for the festival, we now see it in all the splendor of its adornment, in all the brilliancy of its joyous animation. Do you wish to know what new guests the city has received during your absence, here is the list of strangers given in the Badelilatt with minute regularity. The Bc& deldcttt is the gazette of Baden-Baden; be not alarmed at its title of gazette, in it you will find neither politics, criticism, nor any thing calculated to trouble or stupefy the readers mind. A model journal, the Badelilcttt never says too much; makes no pretension to profound views of things; runs after nothing brilliant and does not pique itself on discover- ing political secrets and being in the confidence of Metternich. Simple in its make up and of convenient size, it offers every day in its octavo page a precious collection of announcements and advertisements, a programme of the weeks amusements, the address of the principal tradesmen and a de- tailed account of all the novelties recently received from Paris; in a word, it contains all that can be of any interest to the public. But that which con- stitutes the chief merit of this admirable gazette and secures its prosperity, is the perfect regularity with which it each day gives the list of strangers as they arrive at Baden-Baden. Everywhere you find morning and evening papers: the Badelilcttt is the only journal in the world which appears exactly at five oclock in the after- noon. The hour is happily chosen; at five Baden dines, and at the exact moment when soup is served, the carrier enters the dining-room and distri- butes to each guest a damp copy of the Gazette for the moderate sum of six kreutzers. Every one hastens to read the first two pages on which are in- scribed the names of all the strangers who arrived on the morning and even- ing of the preceding day, set down in regular order with the places where

1 (~ Bctd~m-Bctden. [Feb., BAD EN - BAD EN. BY EUGENE GUINOT. THE season at Baden commences in the month of May; the official open- ing takes place towards the close of spring, and from that period the fashion- able world begins ~to arrive: at first, slowly by ones and twos; then the ranks close up, the crowd increases gradually and becomes every day more numerous and brilliant. Those who having been the first to arrive have made excursions into the Black Forest and the Grand Duchy which borders on the Rhine, Switzerland, and Wurtemberg, find on their return, the city invested by a splendid army to which every nation of Europe has furnished a picked contingent. Baden now presents itself under a new aspect; hav- ing surprised it making ready for the festival, we now see it in all the splendor of its adornment, in all the brilliancy of its joyous animation. Do you wish to know what new guests the city has received during your absence, here is the list of strangers given in the Badelilatt with minute regularity. The Bc& deldcttt is the gazette of Baden-Baden; be not alarmed at its title of gazette, in it you will find neither politics, criticism, nor any thing calculated to trouble or stupefy the readers mind. A model journal, the Badelilcttt never says too much; makes no pretension to profound views of things; runs after nothing brilliant and does not pique itself on discover- ing political secrets and being in the confidence of Metternich. Simple in its make up and of convenient size, it offers every day in its octavo page a precious collection of announcements and advertisements, a programme of the weeks amusements, the address of the principal tradesmen and a de- tailed account of all the novelties recently received from Paris; in a word, it contains all that can be of any interest to the public. But that which con- stitutes the chief merit of this admirable gazette and secures its prosperity, is the perfect regularity with which it each day gives the list of strangers as they arrive at Baden-Baden. Everywhere you find morning and evening papers: the Badelilcttt is the only journal in the world which appears exactly at five oclock in the after- noon. The hour is happily chosen; at five Baden dines, and at the exact moment when soup is served, the carrier enters the dining-room and distri- butes to each guest a damp copy of the Gazette for the moderate sum of six kreutzers. Every one hastens to read the first two pages on which are in- scribed the names of all the strangers who arrived on the morning and even- ing of the preceding day, set down in regular order with the places where 1856.] Bade2~-Bade~. 107 they have put up, so that in reading their names you learn also their resi- dence, and see in what proportion the new-corners are distributed between the hotel dAngleterre, de Russie, de 1 Europe, the Three Kings, the Stag, the Sun, the Salmon, etc., etc. Twice a week these daily lists are added to the general list which the Badeidcttt pi~blishes, and thus is formed each year a picture of the visitors who have adorned Baden-Baden with their presence. All the distinguished personages that Europe reckons, all the eminent and celebrated of the age are written on this tablet. These lists so curiously collected, are the Golden book of contemporary aristocracy. Iii its close columns, figure the most high-sounding and glorious names. Roy- alty, high birth, opulence, talent, beauty, all are there. On every page names environned with a splendid halo, crowned with diamonds, laurels, or flowers, illustrious for birth, great actions, genius, or grace. Nothing is wanting that makes the glory or beauty of earth. Sovereigns and princes, great lords and great captains, millionaires and poets, dandies and gay women have come with a crowd at their heels. All must make this pilgrim- age commanded by fashion, encouraged by example and recompensed with pleasure. At Baden all greatnesses are modest. Princes wish their rank unknown7 or at least not to be called to their notice; they suppress their titles, and hide their majesty as much as possible behind a strict incognito. This ex- ample, set with such good taste by the great personages, has become a general rule which is applied to all the magnificos at Baden-Baden. The pomp of the thing is hidden under the simplicity of its name. Thus by general consent, the palace where all the entertainments and fetes are given is called Conversation House. A building of fairy-like elegance and art. The pencil of Ciceri has decorated the apartments of this temple consecrated to all the pleasures which enchant the eye, the mind and the senses. No- thing can be imagined more imposing than the grand hall glittering with gilding, and remarkable for the noble style of its architecture and decora- tion. Two other saloons, furnished with regal luxury in the style of the last two centuries, are reserved for particular occasions. Then there opens be- fore you a ravishing gallery, fresh and smiling as Spring. It is all flowers; the ceiling is enamelled with roses and violets; daisies, carnations, and came- has are grouped in bouquets, and hang in garlands on the wainscoting; and festoons of flowers cover the frames of windows and doors. At the two ex. tremities of the gallery, orange trees, pomegranates and oleanders complete the enchantment. Here three times a week, dancing and music delight a select company of two or three hundred persons. Saturday is reserved for grand balls, when the whole world of strangers at Baden inundates the vast saloons of the palace. How shall we describe these entertainments, their dazzling magnificence, and the wonderful society composed of all the aristocracies of Europe; a true Congress where France, Russia, Germany, England, Italy, and Spain 108 Baden-Baden. [Feb., send their most illustrious representatives, and their most beautiful and graceful women? In the vast and noble edifice whose centre is taken up by what are called the conversation rooms, the right wing is occupied as a restaurant, the left by a library, reading-room, and theatre. The restaurant, which, in the lan- gu age of Baden is called a restaurcttion, is beyond doubt the most magnifi- cent gastronomic establishment in the world.* Two hundred guests can be comfortably accommodated in this immense and sumpt~uous dining-saloon, where rich arabesques frame the smiling pictures of Ciceri. At the table dh6te of the restauration, a dinner is served unrivalled in luxurious perfec- tion and abundance, which costs but four francs, wine not included. In the best hotels the price of a dinner is three francs, and less than this in inferior hotels. Everywhere symphonies executed by full orchestras enliven the repast. A legion of musicians takes possession of Baden during the entire season and accompanies with varied airs the different episodes of this perpetual fete. At the left of the peristyle, which forms the entrance of the palace, is the literary gallery of M. Marx; the Misses Marx preside over the book-store where may be found all the last new books reprinted by the Belgians, those abominable pirates, who, sterile to produce, incapable of writing and totally deprived of imagination, live by others wit, rob thought on the highway and fraudulently copy the works of their neighbors. The reading-room exhibits on its tables the principal journals of every nation not excepting those marked by the decided tone of their democratic coloring. The Grand Duchy of Baden is a country of intellectual freedom, open to every manifes- tation of thought, and accessible to all shades of political creed. Each day has its pleasures so distributed as to avoid either emptiness or sa- tiety; every moment has its employment, and the hours have but one fault theyfly too fast. The morning is devoted to walking in the environs, and the country so abounds in picturesque situations, is so well furnished with ro- mantic ruins, so admirably adorned with frowning castles, green hills, grace- ful retreats, sombre forests, foaming torrents and fresh cascades, that the entire season does not suffice to exhaust the rich variety of daily excursions. After dinner, the loungers resort to the alley of shops which traverses the park and ascends to the Conversation House. Here a thick shade protects the promenaders against the ardent rays of the sun. On each side, in small wooden stalls rather than stores, are exposed for sale all kind of wares and merchandise. It is one great bazaar where each merchant wears the cos- tume of his country. The industrious mechanician of the Black Forest vends his wooden clocks; the Tyrolean keeps a full assortment of articles made of chamois leather; the Hungarian exhibits his cloth, the Bohemian spreads * The French author would hardly believe, probably, that out on the con- fines of Western American civilization, a dining-saloon where twice that number can dine comfortably, is not thought any thing very surprising.AM. ED. 1856.] Baden-Bctder~. 109 out the riches of his glass-ware sparkling like rubies and diamonds; the cane merchant establishes his shop in the open air, and undistracted by the curiosity of the passers by, sculptures with his knife, pleasing or grotesque figures, and if you feel so inclined he will carve your bust on the head of a cane; The dealers in engravings, silk, Parisian jewelry, and Havana cigars complete the number occupying the Bazaar. The space stretching in front of the Conversation House and which is called the Terrace, divides with the Lichtenthal walk the honors of the even- ing promenade. After dinner the crowd takes possession of the tables placed in front of the cafe of the restauration; the Terrace fills with loun- gers; the curious look for and point out to each other the illustrious visitors of Baden: the princes, celebrated men, great ladies, and beauties of renown. Do not believe, however, that the society at Baden is composed entirely of princes and great personages. The hospitality of this amiable residence admits within its bosom every condition of rank and fortune. The most retiring visitor is received and treated just as the most brilliant. Here as elsewhere, steal in some of those adventurers, those audacious intriguers who always follow at the heels of the fashionable world. How should Baden escape the scourge which visits all the great cities, all the capitals of Europe, where in borrowed plumage these birds of prey penetrate into the most elegant and noblest mansions? But although it may be difficult to stop them on the way and prevent them from entering, their hostile plans are generally frustrated. The most incessant surveillance watches over the peaceful retreat of Baden. The most perfect order reigns amidst this chang- ing crowd, and no trouble ever ruffles the polished surface of a society com- posed of such dissimilar elements. A suspicious figure, an equivocal gait are no sooner marked than absolute power clothed in black and gloved in white, takes to one side this spoil-sport, and says, Sir, you are not exactly in your place here. Madam, the air of Baden will not improve your health. If the person to whom these words are addressed pretends not to understand them, he is told to quit Baden immediately and in twenty-four hours to be beyond the frontiers of the Grand Duchy. There is no reply, obedience without hesitation must follow, unless you prefer to travel with a strong escort. This is arbitrary, if you will, but every honest man will ap- prove this kind and tutelary tyranny which manifests itself only for the main- tenance of order, the triumph of morality and the secure enjoyment of every pleasure. During the day the style of dress is negligent. The most punctilious dandies wear linen coats and straw hats. At the dinner-hour dress puts on a more ceremonious character, and in the evening displays all its marvels; although, at small evening parties, men are admitted in frock-coats. Ele- gant women at Baden, as elsewhere, find occasion to dress three or four times a day, beginning with the morning negUg~, and ending with the full dress for a ball. The winter at Paris, St. Petersburg, Vienna, or London exhibits nothing comparable to the balls at the Conversation House. No- 110 Baden-Baden. [Feb., where is seen such an assemblage, such luxury, such brilliancy, such a re- union of the great and dignified, nowhere such a bouquet composed of flowers from every clime, attractions from every land. Where can you see this piquant mixture, which exhibits in the same quadrille a sovereign princess and a simple gentleman, an hereditary prince and a brokers wife, and at the same whist-table the four sides occupied by the four quarters of the globe~ If you are fond of music, concerts are not wanting. It is seldom that the attraction of these entertainments is not heightened by some famous names. The Golden book has inscribed on its pages the names of Paganini, ThaI- berg, Beriot, Liszt, Ole Bull, Madame Pleyel. They who have made instru- ments illustrious, meet those who have rendered song glorious, Rubini, La- blache, Mario, Pasta, Malibran, Catalani and others, of whom the nomencla- ture would be too long. It may be said with truth that Baden gives the tone to Paris. It is a Congress where ~noble representatives from every country discuss the grave questions which occupy the world of fashion. Here, during the summer, is decided what shall be the fashionable dctnse for the following winter in Paris. Thus, before being adopted by the leaders in Parisian ball-rooms, the hongroise, the polka, the mazurka and the redowa made their d~93itt at Baden-Baden. When there is neither ball nor concert, the gay world meets for gossip, and then the Conversation House completely justifies its name. Every thing that is refined and courteous in speech is welcomed. Each one talks after the manner of his nation; but, to avoid the confusion of Babel, by common consent, the French language is adopted. Thus the world of fashion and good taste decrees and renders a homage to his language, of which a Frenchman may well be proud. The French language reigns supreme in the aristocratic mansions of Europe, and presides over the entente cordicde of all intelligences. Germans, Englishmen, and Russians speak French as it is spoken in the Faubourg St. Germain. The acutest observer, the most attentive listener could scarcely detect the nationality of the inter- locutors. Each one contributes his share of delicate wit, refined pleasantry and interesting revelations, in the recital of those true anecdotes which compose the history of the Springs of Baden-Baden, and which are no less curious than the ancient legends of the country. A noble Hungarian lord, Count Christian W, had come to pass the season at Baden, accompanied by his daughter Helen. Young, beautiful, charming and heiress to an immense fortune left her by her mother, the young countess soon found herself surrounded by a host of admirers. Adorers of all kinds were not wanting, rich and poor, noble and obscure, tender and passionate, grave and gay. It was a perpetual tournament, of which she was the queen, and where the aspirants contended for her hand, by exhibiting their address, grace and seductive qualities. When she en- tered her carriage ten cavaliers were in the saddle caracoling around her ecd6elie. At the ball, the most elegant dancers were devoted to her. They 1856.] Baden-Baden. 111 had neither cares, attentions nor sighs but for her, whereat many beautiful women, French, English, and Russian were particularly mortified. Amongst these pressing suitors Helen selected the most worthless. The Chevalier Gaetan M. was, it is true, a charming fellow, pale and delicate, with fine blue eyes and long black wavy hair: in the place of true passion, he had eloquence of look and word; in short, he dressed with taste, danced marvel- lously and sang like Rubini. But unhappily, these advantages were con- trasted by great vices. A dissipated gambler, and unprincipled, the Cheva- lier Gaetan had quitted Naples in consequence of some scandalous adven- tures in which he had been implicated. The Count, after having informed himself of these facts, desired, but too late, to put his daughter on her guard against a dangerous affection. Helen listened neither to the advice, the prayers nor the orders of her father. The man for whom he endea- vored to destroy her esteem was already master of her heart, and she obsti- nately refused to believe in the disgraceful antecedents of the young Italian. If Gaetan had had to do with a father who lacked energy, perhaps he would have become the happy husband of the young Countess, and the peaceful possessor of the immense fortune with which he was so frantically in love. But the Count knew how to carry his point either by management or force. lie was an old lion. He had preserved all the vigor of youth, and all the rude firmness of an indomitable character, which nothing but paternal ten- derness had ever softened. Self-willed in his resolutions, stern in his exe- cution of them, he cast about for means to put hor8 du eomlat this carpet knight, who had dared to undertake to become his son-in-law in spite of him, when accident threw into his hands a letter which Gaetan had written to Helen. The Chevalier, impatient to attain the goal of his desires, pro- posed, in direct terms to the young Countess, an elopement, and proposed a clandestine meeting, at the hour when the Count was in the habit of going out to play whist with some gentlemen of his acquaintance, at the Conversa- tion House. A rose placed in helens belt was to be the signal of consent. The young girl had not read the adroitly-intercepted note. Put this flower in youz~ belt, said the Count to her, offering a rose, and come with me. Helen smilingly obeyed, and took her fathers arm. In the course of their walk they met Gaetan, who, seeing the rose, was overjoyed. Then the Count conducted his daughter to the residence of one of their acquaintances, and requested her to wait until he came for her. That done, he returned to the little house in which he lived, at the outskirts of Baden, on the Lichtenthal road. He had sent away his servants and was alone. At the appointed hour Gaetan arrived at the rendezvous, leaped lightly over the wall of the garden, and, finding the door shut entered the house through one of the low windows. Then mounting the stairs, filled with pleasing emotions, he directed his steps towards the apartment of Helen. There, instead of the daughter, he found the father armed with a brace of pi4ols. 112 Baden-Ba~c1~sn. [Feb., The Count closed the door, and said to the wretched Gaetan trembling with terror: I could kill you; I have the right to do so. You have entered my house at night. You have broken into it. I could treat you as a felon nothing could be more natural. But, sirs replied Gaetan, almost inaudibly; I am not a robber. And what are you, then? You have come to steal my daughterto steal an heiressto steal a fortune. Here is your letter, which unveiled to me your criminal intentions. I shall show you no mercy! But, to take your life I had no need of this trap. You know the skill of my right arma duel would have long ago rid me of you. To avoid scandal I did not wish a duel, and, now, I will slay you only at the last extremity, if you refuse to obey me. What is your will, sir? You must leave Baden, not in a few daysnot tomorrow, but this very instant. You must put two hundred leagues between it and you, and never again come into the presence of my daughter or myself As the price of your obedience, and to pay your travelling expenses, I will give you twenty thousand francs. The Chevalier wished to speak. Not a word ! cried the Count, in a voice of thunder. You know me, understand! I hold your life at my mercy, and a moments hesitation will be punished with death. I obey, stammered the Chevalier. In good time! Your twenty thousand francs are in that secretary, take them. Permit me to decline your offer. An imperious gesture overcame the false modesty which the Chevalier expressed feebly and like a man who declines only for forms sake. But, said he, the secretary is locked. Open it. There is no key in it. Break the lock then. What! you wish me to? Break the lock, or Ill blow your brains out. The pistol was again presented as an argument which admitted no reply. Gaetan obeyed. It is well ! said the Count. Take that package of bank.notes; they are yours. Have you a pocket-book ? Yes. What does it contain ? Some papersletters addressed to me. Let your pocket-book fall in front of the secretary you have broken open. What? 1856.] A Kother Lost. 113 I must have proof which will convict you. But But, sir, I mean to have here all the evidences of a burglary. I mean that the robber shall be known. Robber, or death! Choose! Ah! your choice is made. I was sure you would be reasonable. Now you are about to fly. You will go before me. I do not quit you until you are a league from Baden. For the rest, make youxue].f easy. I will return late, and will enter no complaint until to-morrow. You may easily escape pur- suit, and if my protection becomes necessary, reckon on me. Begone ! After this adventure, which made a great noise, Helen could no longer doubt. Gaetan was banished from her heart, and she married one of her cousins, captain in a regiment of cavalry in the service of the Emperor of Austria. A MO THEI~ LOST N~vsn more to hear her saying: Darling! are you ill, or well ? Gently on our forehead laying Hands that like a blessing fell. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to wonder~ sighing, When the busy day will close, So with heart to heart replying We may tell its joys and woes. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to feel her gliding By the bed her prayers had blest, With her hand the candle biding, Lest it should disturb our rest. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to know shes keeping Watch on all we say or do; Fondly anxious, waking, sleeping, With a care for ever new. Oh! my mother, never more! Other hands may gently tend us, Other hearts be heal and true, Other loves their treasures lend us But they can not love like you. Mother! mother! never more! S. w. C.

1856.] A Kother Lost. 113 I must have proof which will convict you. But But, sir, I mean to have here all the evidences of a burglary. I mean that the robber shall be known. Robber, or death! Choose! Ah! your choice is made. I was sure you would be reasonable. Now you are about to fly. You will go before me. I do not quit you until you are a league from Baden. For the rest, make youxue].f easy. I will return late, and will enter no complaint until to-morrow. You may easily escape pur- suit, and if my protection becomes necessary, reckon on me. Begone ! After this adventure, which made a great noise, Helen could no longer doubt. Gaetan was banished from her heart, and she married one of her cousins, captain in a regiment of cavalry in the service of the Emperor of Austria. A MO THEI~ LOST N~vsn more to hear her saying: Darling! are you ill, or well ? Gently on our forehead laying Hands that like a blessing fell. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to wonder~ sighing, When the busy day will close, So with heart to heart replying We may tell its joys and woes. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to feel her gliding By the bed her prayers had blest, With her hand the candle biding, Lest it should disturb our rest. Oh! my mother, never more! Never more to know shes keeping Watch on all we say or do; Fondly anxious, waking, sleeping, With a care for ever new. Oh! my mother, never more! Other hands may gently tend us, Other hearts be heal and true, Other loves their treasures lend us But they can not love like you. Mother! mother! never more! S. w. C. 114 The Crime of O~ce. [Feb., THE CRIME OF OFFICE. ALL office holders are, ipso facto, criminals, if not in public opinion, at least for all the intents and purposes of the manu- facturers of public opinionthe makers of newspapers. The pet criminals of the press, are, however, the gentlemensupe- rior, and subordinatewho are entrusted by the Federal gov- ernment with the duty of collecting the National Revenue. We hav& a fancy for looking at the philosophy of the subject a little. It may be a very bold thing in us to do so. Proba- bly it is; because our philosophy may suit neither the news- paper men nor the office-holders. In point of fact, also, we do not care a button whether it does or does not. One man in his life plays many parts; and in ours we have played both the parts referred to. We have held office, and made newspapers; and upon our conscience we think, as a general rule, the first to be the more honest employment of the two. In the first, a man may keep truth on his side; in the second, his soul is hourly endangered by a fatal necessity for lying. In short, if your office-holder, like Touchstones ill-roasted egg, is damned, all on one side ; your newspaper editor has no side at all for heavens mercy to forgive. In respect, however, they are both public, they are both very vile lives; and for both of them as they are spare lives~ they go against our stomach. To our philosophy, however. Patrick Henry, in the Virginia Convention of 1788, said: To these are to be added oppressive excise-men and custom- house officers. Sir, the people have an hereditary hatred to custom-house officers. And in another place he says: On the other hand, there are rich, fat Federal emolumentsyour rich, snug, fine, fat Federal offices ;the number of collectors of taxes and excises will out- number anything from the States. To fan this hereditary hatred, and whip me these fine, fat Federal knaves of collectors, naval officers, and surveyors, has been the delightful employment of the public press from that day to this. When one party is in power, the other takes up the cudgels. Language fails to express their indignation at the enormities practiced by the Ins. Goaded and stung, as by

114 The Crime of O~ce. [Feb., THE CRIME OF OFFICE. ALL office holders are, ipso facto, criminals, if not in public opinion, at least for all the intents and purposes of the manu- facturers of public opinionthe makers of newspapers. The pet criminals of the press, are, however, the gentlemensupe- rior, and subordinatewho are entrusted by the Federal gov- ernment with the duty of collecting the National Revenue. We hav& a fancy for looking at the philosophy of the subject a little. It may be a very bold thing in us to do so. Proba- bly it is; because our philosophy may suit neither the news- paper men nor the office-holders. In point of fact, also, we do not care a button whether it does or does not. One man in his life plays many parts; and in ours we have played both the parts referred to. We have held office, and made newspapers; and upon our conscience we think, as a general rule, the first to be the more honest employment of the two. In the first, a man may keep truth on his side; in the second, his soul is hourly endangered by a fatal necessity for lying. In short, if your office-holder, like Touchstones ill-roasted egg, is damned, all on one side ; your newspaper editor has no side at all for heavens mercy to forgive. In respect, however, they are both public, they are both very vile lives; and for both of them as they are spare lives~ they go against our stomach. To our philosophy, however. Patrick Henry, in the Virginia Convention of 1788, said: To these are to be added oppressive excise-men and custom- house officers. Sir, the people have an hereditary hatred to custom-house officers. And in another place he says: On the other hand, there are rich, fat Federal emolumentsyour rich, snug, fine, fat Federal offices ;the number of collectors of taxes and excises will out- number anything from the States. To fan this hereditary hatred, and whip me these fine, fat Federal knaves of collectors, naval officers, and surveyors, has been the delightful employment of the public press from that day to this. When one party is in power, the other takes up the cudgels. Language fails to express their indignation at the enormities practiced by the Ins. Goaded and stung, as by 1856.1 The Crime of Qffice. 115 a swarm of thirsty mosquitoes, the people turn to and turn out the criminals. The king is dead! Long live the king! The Grand Chamberlain breaks his old rod, and picks up a new one. The Outs walk in, and the Ins walk out. But scarce is the change effected when the press opens again, like dogs baying the moon, with the same agonised howl of insulted patriotism, and outraged virtue. The poor people stand aghast. They have done all that was told them, and, lo! they are no better off than before. The howl has only passed from one set of jaws to the other, and hunger screams as viciously from a Whig throat as a Democratic. The good, honest, innocent souls turned out one set of tenants, and swept and garnished the house, and behold! the new tenants are nothing but seven other devils, worse than the first. Now this would be very terrible, and heartbreaking, if it were not very farcical. And the worst of it is, that, like the majority of English farces, the jokes are all staleveritable Joseph Millers, with venerable beards, hanging down to their waists, and hoary with the rime of age. The tirade of one party will stand for the objurgation of the other. The garment of curses fits either wearer indifferently well. Pick up a twenty-year-old file of an opposition news- paper, change nothing but names and dates, and your slash- ing article is ready to your hand. It is, in fact, matter for surprise that some enterprising printer has not had a set of stereotype plates cast, with blanks punched for those, and ad- vertised something after the following manner: A. B. keeps constantly on hand the best standing material of the trade, namely, articles on official peculation; dereliction of duty; enormous salaries; dangerous perquisites; illegal fees, etc., etc. N.B. He would call attention particularly to his articles on Removals: they are copyrighted, and embrace the whole subject. The Infamous article is conceded to be a miracle of invention. Also, the Poor Inspector and his distressed family, which he takes this opportunity of assuring the public has not been used above eleven times since the last change of administration. Really, those plates would pay. Get behind the scenes, oh! sympathising public, before you spoil your eyes, crying at the tragedy. You will see the mur- dered men walk off as livelily, and with as good a stomach for a steak and a pot of beer, as ever. The disconsolate widow shall put off her weeds and polk marvellously the rest of the night, and the persecuted orphan go home to a jolly supper and a sound sleep. 116 Tite Crime of Office. [Feb., So we will step behind the scenes, if you please, a minute with you. It is a printing office. Be careful how you step, or you will make that sort of pi which printers have no relish for. There sits the editor of the paper which has aroused your indignation against Federal officials. That is the identical man who has thundered in your startled ears the tale of enormities practiced by collectors and surveyors. The man with whom secretaries of the treasury are butchers, and minor function- aries, boa constrictors. What do you think of him? An honest-looking fellow enough, isnt he? He told you last week how they made appointments at the custom-house, and your hereditary hatred grew rampant at the vile disclosure. You read how honest, good men were put aside, and party hacks and tools, the refuse and sweepings of every city, ward, or country village, appointed because they had done the dirty work of a political party. Terrible to think of.wasnt it? What is the nation coming to? My good, credulous friend, what would you think if I should tell you that that large bun. dle of virtuous indignation wasan Alderman? Yerily and truly, an Alderman. You know what an Alderman is now-a- days. Read something in the papers, perhaps, about Indict. ments. Of course you did. You are posted. You can fancy how he got into the City Council, cant you? If you be a New-Yorker, your imagination will not be much strained to conjure up Broadway railroad lines; Joseph Walker wrecks ; felons bailed; fighting men maintained; a little murder, now and then, slubbered up; and all that sort of generous devotion to the public interest, and the good of so- ciety. You will see it all, with your minds eye, at a wink. For you are shrewd, very shrewd, and down on all kinds of corruption. But you would be a little surprised, I know you would, if I should tell you that our virtuous friend there had held office under the Federal government as long as any other man, and that the on dit goes he received something in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand dollars in the way of salary, and public printing, and pickings from first to last. You stare. Your faith is a little shaken. You wont believe everything you read in the newspaper to-morrow morning, and it will be lucky for you if you do not. You have probably got enough of one of the public virtues. Let us try another. Step over the way into a second news- paper office. Here you shall see a round portly gentleman, who has howled as loud as any. In fact, you have fairly shud 1856.] [Eke Crime of Office. 117 dered at the pictures he has drawn of official corruption, and hardness of heart. You have wondered how any administra- tion could hold up its head after such excoriations, such Maria Monkish disclosures of the revolting secrets of its prison-house. My poor friend, the writers of bad romances are not all dead, neither are the fools who read and believe them. Do you know that gentleman there, who dips his pen in everything except truth and common sense, was amongst the most eager grabbers of office. And do you know he never said anything about official corruption, or administration crime, until he failed to get a slice of the bag and a piece of the fish ?Melancholy, but true, my dear indignant friend. You have changed your mind, on this showing, I see; and are preparing to go away much perplexed. Farewell !~Think it over, and when we meet again, tell me what, in your opinion, constitutes the crime of office. Hold, a moment. Before you go, let me hint to you what my opinion makes it. It may help you to a solution. The crime of office is not, then, putting out one set of men, or putting in another. Speaking as Democrats, we say, and know, that the public service is safer in the hands of the Democratic party than any other. History sustains the assertion, and the action of the people evinces their steady belief in its truth. It can not however be charged as a crime when the men of other parties are substituted. It is a great mistake, a deplorable mistake, and the people commonly repent their folly concur- rently with its consummation. As they pay the piper, how- ever, they have an undoubted right to choose the tune he shall play, and dance to it as long as suits them. Nor is it the man- ner of men who are appointed. It is the inequality of remu- neration. An administration appoints its high officers; and in their turn they place the crowd of subordinates. That these are not always chosen from the most virtuous and worthy of the community is too true. But the fault is not in the superiors; it is in the system which makes them first, and controls them afterwards. Appointed for political services merely, they are compelled to carry out the system, and appoint in their turn for the same cause. Their electrnn is narrowed by an arbitrary rule; their choice is limited to the workers of a party, and the laborer is claimed to be worthy of his hire. They are not permitted to ask, is this the best man for the place ?but, is the place the best that can be found for the man? Thus, blind agents of a superior ne 118 The Crime of Office. [Feb., cessity, beyond the view of the public generally, they become responsible for the character and conduct of a thousand men, of whose character and conduct they never knew anything, and never could know anything, but that they were sharp party practitioners, and must have their feein office. They are at the mercy of innumerable dependents, whom they feed, but can not control beyond a certain limit, and that limit a very narrow one. One or many of these men prove incapable, or dishonest, or vicious in any wayand the gentleman who ap- pointed is instantly arraigned at the bar of public opinion, the grand jury of the press haul him up before them, and seldom fail to find a true bill against himfor another mans crime or folly. Theres wisdom for you, as Captain Cuttle says. Having some inkling of this, it is commonly charged by the opposition press that the heads of departments are converted into mere political machines for placing and displacing men in office. And beyond thathaving, according to the fatal law of their own official existence, culled out all the workers of the party they hold ofthe ward wire-pullers, and convention makers, and resolution backers, iind ticket peddlers, and public meeting packers and clacquettrst hey are expected to keep them working ; to keep them in public meetings, and resolu- tions, and ward committees, and all the rest of the machinery of agitation and political high life below stairs. Of course, such business would be quite enough to occupy their time if they did it, and the duties of their respective offices as by law established, which they are popularly supposed to discharge, would have to be mainly confided to the hands of deputies. These subordinates in that event must of course too, have all the brains and tact, and knowledge of the law, and business talent, which would fit them for the highest offices in the re- public? It is charged often by the opposition press that such is the fact. Do you believe it? Would it be a natural thing to happen in this country? Did you ever hear of a man really great, and fitted for high employment, who was at the same time a reliable Democrat, whom the people, God bless them, ever left long in a subordinate station? Did you ever hear of one ~~ho could make popular Democratic music, who ever played second fiddle long to any other man; unless he happened to be a drunkard, or a vicious fellow determined to spoil his own chances? We never met with such an one; and, depend upon it, that kind of talk is all bosh. You cant keep a man down in this country, when nature has endowed him with the power of rising. The people always take care of him, if he is true to them. 1856.J The Crime of Qffice. 119~ Suppose, for the sake of argument, all this twaddle of oppo- sition, about the crime of office, were true? How can you account for this fact, and it is a fact, that, with men ap- pointed to office for every other reason under heaven than because their previous habits had fitted them for the particu- lar place they fill, the public service of the United States is better carried on, and its enormous revenue more cheaply andT logically therefore, more honestly collected, under Democratic auspices, than that of any other known government? Is not that a poser? Will railing accusations rub that out? And this, too, in the face of the fact that the subordinates are the most ill-paid body of public officers in the world. Their sala- ries are inadequate. Fixed many years ago, every article of consumption, the whole price of life, has advanced, whilst their stipend has been stationary. Under the present administration too, as under all Pemocratic administrations, the chances have been narrowed down to nothing. The man who makes a penny beyond his legal pay does himself great injustice by keeping his place; he is certainly clever enough for much bet- ter things. He is fit for a Wall-street financier. Mr. Secre- tary Guthrie may not be the greatest Secretary of the Trea- sury that ever lived; but he is certainly one of the most care- ful custodians of the peoples money. In fact, too, we should like to know how any Secretary of the Treasury can prove his fitness for the post, and fitness for a thing is greatness in that thing, except by the impartial exactitude and conscienti,ous honesty with which he carries out the routine prescribed by law. He makes no law. He originates no system. Alexan- der Hamilton originated the system. After him, the whole matter is merely executive. But to give you. my idea of the fault of the system which sometimes leaves an opening for the attacks of the opposition, and gives a colorable pretence of honesty to their fault.finding, you shall have it in the words of Edmund Burke. The sys- tem of government in British India, so sternly reprobated by him, has a good many points of analogy Another circumstance in that service, says Burke, is deserving of notice. Except in the highest parts of all, the emoluments of office do not in any degree correspond with the trust, nor the style with the dignity. Under the petty appel- lations of the counting-house, you have administrators of revenues truly royal. The legal public emoluments that be- long to them are very often totally inadequate. * * It is true that the greatest situations are often attended with 120 The Crime of Office. fFeb., but little emolument; yet still they are filled. Why? Be- cause reputation, glory, fame, the honest applauses of a grate- ful country, sometimes pay the cares, anxieties, and toils, which wait on great situations in the commonwealth. But glory is not the lot of subordinated merit. These must be paid in money what cannot be paid in fame and reputation. * * All the subordinate parts are officers who, in comparison with the offices and duties entrusted with them, are miserably provided for; whereas the chief of each great presidency has emoluments securing him against every mode of tempta- tion. * * Instead of endeavoring to find a series of gradual, progressive, honorable, and adequate rewards for the persons who serve the public in subordinate but powerful situations, he has left them to prey upon the people. I do not say that some of the salaries given would not sound well here; but when you consider well the nature of the trusts, the dignity of the situation, whatever the name of them may be, the powers that are granted: I repeat, it is a source of infinite grievanceof infinite abuse? So reasons Edmund Burke. Which may be reduced to this, that in every government where you put power and opportunity in mens hands, and nuderpay themif you expect them to be honest, you mistake human nature. The great crime of office in the United States, then, as in British India, is putting men in the way of tempt- ation, and underpaying them. It has been said in Congress Why, you can get as many men as you can shake a stick at, to do the public work at a dollar a day, instead of three or four which is now paid. Certainly you can. But that will help you little. The only difference would be that, supposing men to continue men, and beef to be 18~ cents a pound, your one dollar men would be under the disagreeable necessity of stealing the difference from the public crib, being a clear addi- tional loss to the public of two dollars! Steal? A fico for the phrase. Conveythe wise it call. We are not denying the possibility of human honesty. Happily for society, there are some honest men left. But a fine moral sense, and a lofty principle of self-respect and scrupulous honor, is not a com- mon gift to mortals. The majority of men, it is also true, will not stealdirectly. Visions of Sing-Sing and the Tombs haunt and prevent them; but they will whip the devil very close to the stump. It is said, a Whig President appointed a friend to some subordinate office. The friend was indignant at being put off with such a pittance, and exclaimed: Why, sir, the salary is only fifteen hundred dollars a-year !~ Bah ! replied 1856.] The Crime of Oflice. 121 his Excellency; thats the salary, John. I give you the placethat is worth more than mine ! It is also related by many persons of veracity, that it is the common habit of heads of department, on the advent of a Whig administration, to say to their subordinates: You have fomr years before you; make the most you can out of them for the party, and yourselves. Under Democratic auspices, however, and we speak by the card, the whole effort of its superior executive officers is directed to saving the peoples money, and narrow- ing the office-holders chances to as near nothing as possible. This system is carried out in every branch of the public service with a scrupulous exactness, and painful fidelity. And here the real crime of office is developed; since the most oppressive weight of retrenchment and reform, always the inevitable work of the Democratic party upon coming into power, after an interregnum of Opposition license and peculation, falls upon subordinates. For superior officers the law provides emolu- ments. For inferiors it provides none. The idea of the fram- ers of the law, regulating particularly the iRevenue service of the United States, appears to have been a very honest Federal aristocratic notion, that your great officers are a kind of Sevres porcelain, and will bear high glazing and fine painting; whilst your common fellow must be kept as poor a piece of pottery as possible. It is scarcely a Democratic notion that one hu- man vessel is to be fashioned by legislative legerdemain to honor, and another to dishonor. The logic which assumes that the head of a Department must be kept rich to keep him honest, and the tail poor to keep him honest, is about as beau- tiful a piece of special pleading, as complete a reductio ad ab- surdum, as we have ever had the pleasure of stumbling over. The sauce for the goose is clearly no sauce for the gander in that system of dialectics. Our laws go further indeed, and whilst they provide emoluments for the heads of departments, they provide penalties for all below the head, who even coquet with so much reward, emolument, guerdon, or remuneration, as Costards elevenpence hapenny. In the language of Burke, which is quite as applicable to this as to the folly of the East India Company: The gentlemen at the head of the service have high legal emoluments. The orders of the government forbid inferiors to take any extrane- ous emoluments. The act of Parliament has fulminated against them. Clear, positive laws have no exception of cir- cumstance in them, no difference quoad majus et minus. The 9 122 The Crime of Office. [Feb., consequence is, that he who has taken but one penny of unlaw- ful emolument is without defense. And as an inferior or subordinate has no legal emoluments by our system, any more than he had under the British East India system, he who takes but one penny has taken an unlawful ernolument, and the law has no mercy for him; official duty no pity; his superiors no liberty to excuse. The penalty attaches as directly and in as exemplary a manner to the one penny as to a million. Does such a system square with common justice or common sense? Is self-conceit weaker in the breast of the inferior than in the breast of the superior? On the contrary, do we not know that men think after this fashion: Fortune has given you, A. B., a big throw in the raffle, and you have a prize. But its mere luck. Why might not I, B. C., have thrown the same? Had I done so, you would have had my place, and I yours. That is human nature. And if men think thus, and see the law provide emoluments for the lucky thrower of sixes,~~ and pains and penalties for the unlucky caster of deuce ace, with the political dice; whose honesty, does it strike you, intelligent legislators of an intelligent people, is best provided forwhose honesty most certainly secured; the man whose honesty is secured by legal emoluments, or the man whose dishonesty is punished by legal penalties? Per Baccho! We think penalties make rogues. All legal experience proves the fact. Hang a man for stealing five pounds, and a thousand pounds are stolen, where twenty are, if you make the penalty a six months imprisonment in the county jail. That fact has long been in evidence; and undis- puted. Yet, you will reply, men rush in as eagerly for inferior as for superior places. Certainly they do; because like the Draco- nian penalty for a five pound larceny, under the old English system, the severity of the laws vindication defeats the law; and where one man is hung as an example, a thousand are found not guilty by tender-hearted juries. The whole argument may indeed be condensed in thisto se- cure men s honesty, as a general rule, you must pay them in a fair ratio to the trust reposed in them, and not in the ratio of their work. If one man has the power to cheat you out of a million, and another the power to cheat you only of a thousand, the bonuses on their honesty must be relatively as the sums committed to their mercy. Some men will be honest, and starve in the midst of untold gold. But these noble specimen 1856.] The Crime of Office. 123 of human virtue, whilst they elevate our opinion of humanity, and command our admiration,should never blind us to the fact that they are the shining exceptions to a gloomy rule. In opposition to the Opposition, we conclude, therefore, that the crime of office is not that one man holds to the exclu- sion of a better; nor that dishonest men are selected; nor that undue favoritism elevates one to depress another; nor, in short, any of the specifications and charges commonly exhibited; but that the system and its theory is at war with fact; that men hold office by a tenure which paralyzes their capacity for good, and developes abuse against the will and beyond the power of the best to prevent; and that custom, the custom of every party, has established as a law the much-abused but inevita- bly-followed rule, that to the victor belong the spoils; not that favoritism is displayed; but that no legal opportunity is provided for its display in behalf of public virtue and public services in subordinate stations. These constitute the true crime of office. Democratic administrations of the Federal Government, from the highest position to the lowest, in all its ramifications and bearings, in spite of these vices of system, first originated by Federalism, and carefully imitated by all its anti-Democratic progeny, have been distinguished for their general fidelity. This has been so marked and palpable that the people, by a natural in- stinct, fall back upon them always, from all other parties, for relief. Four years of administration by any other party usually place the finances of the country in such a position, and introduce such a crowd of abuses into every office, that the chief occupation of the succeeding. Democratic administration is, inevitably, to restore them to the position in which its predecessor found them, and reThtroduce order, regularity, and honesty. This usually occupies the whole attention of one Democratic ad- ministration, and it is only during a second, inimediately suc- ceeding, that the people begin to see unmistakably how much has been done for them. It has been the fate of the present administration to carry out this work of restoration, this rein- auguration of Democratic fidelity and economy in official life, and hence the vioYence with which it has been assailed. Abuse has found no shelter; dereliction from duty no excuse; and both have been as indignant and aggressive as they were before numerous and secure. A very little examination of the attacks levelled against it and the least inquiry into the per- sonal character and antecedents of their authors, will demon- 124 Tite Stream~ of L~/e. [Feb., strate that this, which in the peoples eyes has been the virtue, has in theirs been its @rime of Office. We put this before the people not as the special advocate of this, but as the general advocate of all Democratic administra- tions; and we point theni to the nominee of the Cincinnati Convention of next June, be he who he may, as the only safe rallying point for all honest lovers of their country, its consti ution, and good government. s. w. a. THE STIIEAM OF LIFE. FROM THE SPANISH. BY C. A W. WITHIN a verdant, peaceful vale A limpid stream was stealing, Naught butits ripples murmuring Its gentle course revealing. The lily, with its spotless white, Above its wave was bending; The wild birds note, the sighing breeze, Their harmonies were blending. And bird and flower of brightest hue All circled to enwreath it The evening star and azure blue Shone bright and pure beneath it: But all unnoticed and forgot, The fountain scorned its humble lot, And a guardian spirit heard its prayer, Murmured from that valley fair. Its stream was filled with melting snow And torrents from the mountains, brow, And as it onward rolled in pride, Broad rivers formed its rushing tide;

124 Tite Stream~ of L~/e. [Feb., strate that this, which in the peoples eyes has been the virtue, has in theirs been its @rime of Office. We put this before the people not as the special advocate of this, but as the general advocate of all Democratic administra- tions; and we point theni to the nominee of the Cincinnati Convention of next June, be he who he may, as the only safe rallying point for all honest lovers of their country, its consti ution, and good government. s. w. a. THE STIIEAM OF LIFE. FROM THE SPANISH. BY C. A W. WITHIN a verdant, peaceful vale A limpid stream was stealing, Naught butits ripples murmuring Its gentle course revealing. The lily, with its spotless white, Above its wave was bending; The wild birds note, the sighing breeze, Their harmonies were blending. And bird and flower of brightest hue All circled to enwreath it The evening star and azure blue Shone bright and pure beneath it: But all unnoticed and forgot, The fountain scorned its humble lot, And a guardian spirit heard its prayer, Murmured from that valley fair. Its stream was filled with melting snow And torrents from the mountains, brow, And as it onward rolled in pride, Broad rivers formed its rushing tide; 1856J JJ~e Stream of k/e. i2~ Dark forests frowned upon its shore, And gathering clouds hung darkly oer; Its turbid waters found a bed With rocks in rugged masses spread, And stately fleets, in war-like pride, Upon its swelling waters ride. But the river mourned, that now was given 1~o image of the summer heaven, But clouds frown dark,. and lightnings ray Above its stormy waters play; The deer, that sought its stream before, Now leave its waters pure no more, And scaly monsters of the deep Within its dark recesses sleep; And all is changed on that dark stream An image of Lifes troubled dream. For this is Man, and thus when truth, The purity of early youth, And virtues brightness, all is lost, Upon ambitions waters tossed, Alas! the river seeks in vain To be the peaceful stream again; Within mans troubled soul is given No image of its Makers heaven; For passions all beyond control Have dimned the mirror of his soul. Well may he mourn his altered fate, The troubled grandeur of his state, And childhoods pure and peaceful joys Exchanged for manhoods gilded tOys. 120 Vitruvianae. EFob., VIT IIUVIANAE. RY PETER KOCH-WREN; ARCHITECT. CHAPTER THilin. THE excitement created by the first and second chapters of this treatise having become intense, and the rules laiddown in them threatening to pro duce an entire revolution in the rural architecture of the country, I shall. hasten to develop my whole system. I shall do this because I hear that great numbers have already commenced pulling down, and my feelings are shocked at the idea of their being without a proper roof to cover them, at this inclement season of the year. We entreat those who have not yet en- tirely demolished their dwellings to pause until they have read this sy- nopsis. The best way then to set about building a country-house is, first, to con- sider the subj ect in a common-sense light. We particularly recommend , this view of the subject, as the longer you consider it in that light, the darker it will appear to you, and the less likely you will be ever to get further tha.n the beginning. In the next place we would impress upon those of a san- guine temperament the wisdom of consulting the experience of the last gentleman he planned for, after you have consulted your architect. An attention to this suggestion will save you much harassment of mind, which might, otherwise, be easily traceable to the singular difference between your architects estimate, and your builders bill. MATERIAL.IR choosing your material you will be, of course, influenced by the selection your neighborhood affords. In any case, however, it would perhaps be wiser to be influenced by the selection you can afford yourself. Wood and stone are generally used, but brick may be introducedinto the chimneywith great advantage. Wood znay also be advantageously introduced into the oven previous to any attempt at baking. The attempt to substitute any thing else for floors, shelves, doors, and window-sashes, will be attended with great expense, and possibly partial failure. STONE 15 of many characters, and needs varied treatment. Harsh treat- ment, consisting of a free use of the stone hammer and chisel, is usually the most successful. How indeed are you to treat flint, granite, ~reywack, or trap tenderly, without meeting a most ungrateful return for your kind- ness we are unable to inform you. BRICK does not seem, as yet, to have had a fair chance of trial. Gentle- men, however, who have attempted to adopt it as a hat lining, have not only

120 Vitruvianae. EFob., VIT IIUVIANAE. RY PETER KOCH-WREN; ARCHITECT. CHAPTER THilin. THE excitement created by the first and second chapters of this treatise having become intense, and the rules laiddown in them threatening to pro duce an entire revolution in the rural architecture of the country, I shall. hasten to develop my whole system. I shall do this because I hear that great numbers have already commenced pulling down, and my feelings are shocked at the idea of their being without a proper roof to cover them, at this inclement season of the year. We entreat those who have not yet en- tirely demolished their dwellings to pause until they have read this sy- nopsis. The best way then to set about building a country-house is, first, to con- sider the subj ect in a common-sense light. We particularly recommend , this view of the subject, as the longer you consider it in that light, the darker it will appear to you, and the less likely you will be ever to get further tha.n the beginning. In the next place we would impress upon those of a san- guine temperament the wisdom of consulting the experience of the last gentleman he planned for, after you have consulted your architect. An attention to this suggestion will save you much harassment of mind, which might, otherwise, be easily traceable to the singular difference between your architects estimate, and your builders bill. MATERIAL.IR choosing your material you will be, of course, influenced by the selection your neighborhood affords. In any case, however, it would perhaps be wiser to be influenced by the selection you can afford yourself. Wood and stone are generally used, but brick may be introducedinto the chimneywith great advantage. Wood znay also be advantageously introduced into the oven previous to any attempt at baking. The attempt to substitute any thing else for floors, shelves, doors, and window-sashes, will be attended with great expense, and possibly partial failure. STONE 15 of many characters, and needs varied treatment. Harsh treat- ment, consisting of a free use of the stone hammer and chisel, is usually the most successful. How indeed are you to treat flint, granite, ~reywack, or trap tenderly, without meeting a most ungrateful return for your kind- ness we are unable to inform you. BRICK does not seem, as yet, to have had a fair chance of trial. Gentle- men, however, who have attempted to adopt it as a hat lining, have not only 1856.] 17itruviancte. frequently had a fair chance of trial (at the Police Court) bat have even been fined for the experiment. The world is proverbially ungrateful to its bene- factors; and the attempt to combine the uses of the brick with the tile meets no greater opposition than the system of Galileo or the steam-engine of Fulton In the present state of society, and the absurd prejudices against that article, as your house, like your hat, is meant to shelter your head, the less ~ou have to do with a brick in it the better. If you have timber in abundance, and your building be of moderate di- mensions, instead of enlarging it you had much better put ~up a saw-mill and dispose of the surplus to your neighbors. A Rusric treatment of this material is often very effective. It is perhaps unnecessary to describe, in a more detailed manner, what we mean by a rustic treatment, as most of our readers have, no doubt, stopped on the road to Lebanon, the White Sulphur Springs, or the Delaware Water Gap, or some other remote ~elebrity, to admire one of those charming log cabins, stuck in a cleft of the rocks, or hanging like a strange fungus from the side of a woody declivity, and altogether built of unhewn timber, orn~e with a barrel, for a chimney (styled in rural architecture chimbley) and an agreeable va- riety of old hats, and flannel petticoats for window glass. ANOTHER style, for which wood is a suitable material, is called Gothic. The term Gothic is now determined to mean simply pointed. 1f there- fore, you be of an epigramatical turn of mind you will, of course, choose the Gothic, as a quiet way of informing your neighbors that you consider them Goths, and have adapted your style to your neighborhood. The pecu- liarities of your architecture will, by this means, be sure to be marked. You may possibLy secure the same result to yourself, but having defined your position amongst your neighbors, will easily prepare yourself for any thing coming from so rude a source as a community of Goths. But the great principle upon which all styles are ba~ed is reality. For all purposes of home comfort, therefore, chateaux en espagne ,may be con- sidered as altogether inadmissible. A Gomic house, then, is a building, the character of whose architecture is disJAnguished by the upward tendency of its leading lines. The same tendency being particularly observable in lalloons, they will be found a remarkably cheap substitute for it. Great care, however, must be taken to secure the leading lines properly, especially in situations much ex- posed to the influence of the winds. In arranging the outlines of your plan, upon the ground, the selection of wood as the material, will permit of a more varied and irregular shape than stone or brick. In arranging it upon paper, which is perhaps, after all, the best place to do it, pen and ink will probably be all the material you will need. If you inadvertently sign your name at the bottom of the page, how- ever, and it should find its way into your builders hands, the amusement afforded by the freedom of irregularity ceases, and the regular, and often 128 Viiruvianae. [Feb., disagreeable course of payment at maturity, or a suit at law, practically ensues. THE MODERN bracketed Italian style is very suitable for wooden buildings, and is one of great beauty. This bracketed style is, of course, a synonym for the parenthetical or involved style, and appears admirably suited for gentlemen in difficulties, whom a turn of the stock market in the city has turned to keeping stock in the country. Or the brackets may be con- sidered, as in modern dramas, to mark the parts which may be omitted with- out injury to the sense. By putting your house in brackets7 therefore, you may follow the wise eNample of the managers with regard to the dramas referred to, and omit it altogether, which would, after all, be probably the most sensible thing you could do. The great objection to the Italian bracketed style is, that it will not admit of the use of shingles. As this would prevent its appropriation by the most honest and deserving class of the community, the class too to which we have the honor to belongthe legal bodywe shall not recommend its adoption. Stone appears to be the true material for a rustic home. Mr. A. Gordon Knotts objection, however, to throwing away his money upon a deal of stone when stone of deal was cheaper, appears founded in right reason, and appeals affectingly to the seat of architectural lifethe pocket. Its general fretted surface is nevertheless peculiarly appropriate to a country house, in which, especially during a long storm, ~ny one but a Job usually represents that peculiar quality of stone in the most striking ifianner~ If you are from the city, do not, however, fancy, because stone is your material that you will need fewer of what are classically termed rocks to complete the edifice. Cutting the stone will display it to more artistic ad- vantage. The superior advantage of wood, however, is that it will enable you to cut your stick; an operation which any one of our way of thinking will always take care to make provision for. Many persons complain of stone houses in the country being damp; but as every thing else in the country is also damp, and pervaded by a general chilly kind of desolation, at all seasons except midsummer, I consider this an unfounded objection. My friend Knott says, on all three floors of his house, there was no room that was not a rheumaticwhich proves incon- testably that wood or stone, in the country, make little difference. The modern Italian style is suitable for either stone or wood, and un- doubtedly, for crotchety people, is the only proper one. For gentlemen, also, whose circumstances and desires are in an inverse ratio to each other, this style is at once pleasing and profitable, as whatever scale they may choose to build on they can do so by a system of notes. Terraces are features constantly associated with this style. As our ob- ject, however, is cheapness, as well as beauty, balustrades in card-board, or canvas, after the fashion of Juliets, not in Verona, but th~ Broadway theatre, may be made to produce all the effect, at a little distance, of the 1856.] Yitruvianae. 129 most elaborately-carved marble. Terraces are also associated with mooii- light, lovers vows and runaway matches, and parents with large families of grown-up daughters will find them to their advantage. A word or two about brick before we close this number. As a material it is not appreciated. We are very far behind our ancestors, in this, the importation of the article from Holland having almost entirely ceased of late years. If, however, you should recur to the good old fashion again, and use them, it will be in good taste to paint them in accordance with the prevail- ing tone of the landscape: your spring coat should, therefore, be a warm green, and your fall one a cool gray. A greater variety of colors will be ne- cessary, if you determine to follow all the changes of the seasons, but as a general thing we are inclined to think green will be found the most appro- priate and significant. CHAPTER FOURTH. A comfortable home must be both a warm and a sweet one. The former of these conditions may be secured, as a general thing, in summer by open- ing all the windows at mid-day. In winter it will be attended with greater difficulty; in fact, warmth at that season must be artificially created, a sci- entific fact of which few of our readers are probably aware. The substances by which artificial heat is created, in the largest degree, are generally sup- posed to be wood and coaL Paynes water gas may possibly be added to the list in a short time. Our text book recommends the Household De- mon as evolving the largest amount of caloric from those substances. As almost every family possesses a Household Demon of its own, which up to this time has been altogether a useless member of it, we expect the sugges- tion to be eagerly seized upon. This kind of demon heater appears to have been known indeed as far back as the age of Elizabeth, if we may credit the allegation of lago, that the ladies of the family are sometimes devils that is, Household Demons. The sole difficulty in the use of this demons is, that it often makes the house entirely too hot to hold you ; and no sort of ventilation has yet been hit upon to moderate her too searching breath. Indeed, in severe weather, she is constantly rushing to extremes, jumping from extremely hot to extremely cold, and keeping you in an in- teresting state of oscillation between a fever and an ague fit. In an overheated room the atmosphere soon becomes foul, unless proper ventilation be resorted to. The foul air usually begins to form on the floor in layers, which are gradually built up to the ceiling. This is a state of the atmosphere meant to be described by old ladies when they say it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Our text-book speaks of the debris of warmth in air, but as we never saw a large section of air broken to pieces, and can not conceive of the wreck of that kind of matter, we are at a loss to understand what sort of thing the debris of the air may be. The air indeed has been said to be a chartered libertine, and as that kind of foul 130 Vitruvianae. [Feb~, creature is very shaky and liable to fall to pieces, it may be rather a poetical than practical allusion. In whatever way your house is warmed, an escape-flue should always be provided. This flue, in its relation to ventilation, will be found peculiarly serviceable if; in pursuit of your building plan you have been forced to fob low the example of Mr. Knott, and accept draughts which run all ways except up chimney. In such a state of things you will readily perceive that an escape-flue will be absolutely necessary to enable you to air your reputation as well as your person. An admirable treatise upon ventilation may be found in Dr. Mayos Kaloolah. The simple apparatus described there as used in Framazugda could no doubt be made at a sli,~ht cost, and would soon come into universal use. The addition of the Flower-organ which he also describes, by which the entire wealth of natural scents is evolved by a kind of olfactory notation will insure you a sweet as well as a warm home. We have thus put our readers in possession of the way to build a home cheaply and well in a short course of easy lessons for young beginners: and have only to assure them, in conclusion, that if they should follow our directions, or those of the text-book upon which these papers have been a running commentary, no one will sympathize with them more heartily than ourselves. Next to the folly which a man is guilty of in hanging himself for love, we rank the folly of the city man who builds a house in the country for comfort. The only way to live in the country is to rise with the lark, instead of laying plans for larks ;to hold the plough, swing the cradle and the axe, in short to be a farmerthe most in- dependent and noble of all characters and occupations. City manners and city houses are as mockable in the country, as the homely wits of home-bred bumpkins are ludicrous at a court. To enjoy the country do not build your- self either a palace or a medkeval mansion, all jimcracks and nonsense; hut find out some good old place hallowed by the memories of years, green in its age as the character and virtues of an honest man, grown old in making the earth bear fruit to feed the busy throngs of your starved cities, and there, with the old rafters over your head, the old luxuriant vines about the door, the garden full of flowers which in their season have gladdened generations of happy and innocent heartsthere make a home indeed, a place where the sturdy virtues of your Republican forefathers may not be ashamed to grow, nor your children forget to learn them. 1856.] The ChronUes of Per.~epoli& 131 THE ChRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS TN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. ~Y Mli QUIGG. CHAPTER THIRD. A CHAPTER OF CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. OUR retirement from the busy scenes of city life to the sup- josed quiet of the country naturally afforded our friends a subject of profound interest and frequent conversation. In fact the interest on& s friends take in ones welfare in this world i-s so flattering, so very humanizing, that it makes you feel quite tender, sometimes almost tearful. How exquisitely delightful to know that a hundred hearts are moved on your account; a hundred brains busy with spe& ulations, of which you and your fortunes, are the objects; a hundred, perhaps a thousand conversations carried on, in which you are the central point and figure of the picture tiey paint! Charming world! Excellent and much-abused humanity! Who shall have the audacity to say that some remnant of the angel does not linger still in that poor outraged, and vilified human nature, which silly scribblers are so fond of represent- ing as cold, selfish, calc~lating, and heartless? It is true that if I had died, instead of going into the coun- try. If I had been hanged, instead of going into the country. If I had ran away with another mans wife, and murdered her husband, according to the laws of honor, instead of going into the country. 1f in short, I had made an immense ass of my- self in any way, or met with a frightfully disgraceful misfor- tune of any kind whatever, instead of going into the country, my friends would have had quite as agreeable and welcome a subject of conversation. To disappear from society in a natural and honest way, makes no kind of difference. In fact, it rather detracts from your importance. But then admit, it is really very flattering to be talked about by so many people, and to awake so wide an interest that not

1856.] The ChronUes of Per.~epoli& 131 THE ChRONICLES OF PERSEPOLIS; OR, FIVE YEARS TN THE LIFE OF A GENTLEMAN-FARMER IN THE KINGDOM OF NEW-JERSEY. ~Y Mli QUIGG. CHAPTER THIRD. A CHAPTER OF CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. OUR retirement from the busy scenes of city life to the sup- josed quiet of the country naturally afforded our friends a subject of profound interest and frequent conversation. In fact the interest on& s friends take in ones welfare in this world i-s so flattering, so very humanizing, that it makes you feel quite tender, sometimes almost tearful. How exquisitely delightful to know that a hundred hearts are moved on your account; a hundred brains busy with spe& ulations, of which you and your fortunes, are the objects; a hundred, perhaps a thousand conversations carried on, in which you are the central point and figure of the picture tiey paint! Charming world! Excellent and much-abused humanity! Who shall have the audacity to say that some remnant of the angel does not linger still in that poor outraged, and vilified human nature, which silly scribblers are so fond of represent- ing as cold, selfish, calc~lating, and heartless? It is true that if I had died, instead of going into the coun- try. If I had been hanged, instead of going into the country. If I had ran away with another mans wife, and murdered her husband, according to the laws of honor, instead of going into the country. 1f in short, I had made an immense ass of my- self in any way, or met with a frightfully disgraceful misfor- tune of any kind whatever, instead of going into the country, my friends would have had quite as agreeable and welcome a subject of conversation. To disappear from society in a natural and honest way, makes no kind of difference. In fact, it rather detracts from your importance. But then admit, it is really very flattering to be talked about by so many people, and to awake so wide an interest that not 132 The Chronicle8 of Per& epolis. [IF~et~ even the smallest of your faults has the ghost of a chance of being forgotten. It is true, toot that if you had staid in the city, and given very fine parties, and reck erch~ dinners; worn very fine cl& thes, and been able to do a great many favors for a great many people, you would have been universally loved and respected. But if you had staid there, and done nothing of the sort7 no body would have troubled their heads about you. On the contrary, if you bad needed any of those fine friends; if your fortune had taken to itself wings and flown away, and instead of leaving you in patent leathers and yellow kids among the blisses of Broadway7 and the luxurious parvenuism of the Fifth avenue, had landed you high and dry in the re- mote regions of the eastern part of the citysay in the upper part of a two-story frame house in Henry street7 or some such hyperborean latitude, I give you-gentlemen and ladiesI give you my word for it.-your best friends would never have mentioned your name. I think I see some body sneer, or shrug their shoulders; or hear some body say, I never act so. Such conduct is, con- temptible. I grasp a friends hand as cordially when there is not a penny in it, as when it can sign a check good for a million. My respectable but deluded friend, you may flatter yourself that you ai7e telling the truth; but the fact is you are lying like a horse. You would do no such thing. It isnt in you. It isnt in any New-Yorker or Englishman that ever drew the breath of life. I am sorry to be compelled to say it, but you are a humbug and a snob. If you ever see a man down, I will lay any money you take as early an opportunity as any body else to give him a nice little kick. Or if he is only going down hill you will assist him towards the bottom, with a sly shove, as soon as your neighbors. Dont be ashamed. It is perfectly natural. Nay, I am not at all sure but it is very moral, meritorious, and admirable. What right has a man to fail? In the vocabulary of pious pity there is no word of sympa. thy for a man who fails. If he fail, is he not proved a contemptible rascal, and worthy to be kicked? Fortune always favors the brave. What more contemptible than a coward? Success is the true test of merit. You are perfectly right to ride rough-shod over any man 1856.1 The Chronicles of Perseyolis. 133 who shows himself such a thoroughly worthless and cowardly animal as to let you do it. From which it appears that all this fine talk about charity, kindness, humanity, sympathy, and that obsolete kind of thing is mere moonshine on the water. It is not at all surprising1 therefore, that when we abandoned the luxurious city of New-York; when I turned my back upon the dignified Bar of that city, and removed myself; my little wife, and household gods to the kingdom of New-Jersey, it should have awakened a lively interest in the bosoms of mine and my dear wifes numerous and amiable friends. Some five1 or by our lady, six hundred of the G-rande Monde had graced our wedding, and the arrack punch, chain. pagne, etc., on that interesting and momentous occasion, hav- ing been particularly good, not a few of them had gone very near weeping for pure happiness and delighted sympathy, in the fullness of their hearts and satisfaction of their stomachs. No body, however, came down as far as the wharf to see u~ off- But that was six months afterwards; and any one who ex- pects the tenderness of champagne or the sympathy of boned turkey to last that length of time deserves a straight waistcoat. It must not, however, by any means be supposed that the general interest felt in our affairs, by our loving and generous friends was at all lessened by that lapse of time. On the con- trary it was rather new-edged by the natural seclusion into which we fell, as all new-married folk do, during the first six months of our double blessedness. I say seclusion, for although we went to more balls, parties, hops, matinees dansante, conversation6, tableaux, receptions, evenings, etc., etc., than usual, like all unfortunates in the ~same predicament, we played the r6le of hermits in a crowd, and dan ed, waltzed, and polked through halls of dazzling light, in the midst of five hundred over-heated people dressed to kill, very much as if those people had been cabbages, which possibly they might have been without losing any thing themselves, or doing the world any material injury by the slight change from animal to vegetable life. Be that as it may, we went through the waltzes and the winter, looking neither at the people around us, nor into the future before; but simply I dont mean foolishly but merely and all the while looking into each others eyes, and talking the softest and most delightful nonsense in the world. .So, it came to pass that, although every body saw us all the 134 [The (iYhron~cles of .Per& ~poli8. [Feb.~ while, everywhere, we were quite as remote and separate from any body in particular, as if we had gone away to Kamschatka immediately after the ceremony. Perhaps that was the reason why the shock was not so great when, in the spring, we really went into banishment among the aboriginal tribes of New- Jersey. But we were not forgotten, as you shall quickly hear. CHAPTER FOURTH. THE UNINVITED GUEST. It was about nine months after we had firmly planted our- selves in the red-shale. A succession of rainy days had turned that peculiarly delightful soil into a cross between bad red paint, and gritty cement. Walking was impracticable, and carriage-wheels sunk up to the hub. Two horses were scarcely enongh to drag a babys go-cart through the detestable stuff. I must tell you, excellent readerand therefore excellent because you are a reader of this bookI must inform you that, shortly after our immigration, I had gone to work to make an avenue from the turnpike to the house, which stood back from it about two hundred and fifty yards. All the way up, too, the ground gradually ascended; so that iRougemont was worthy of its name, both by reason of the redness of the soil and the elevation of its site. There was, in fact, a very fine prospect from~ the house; and I may be said to have had at least a look for my money. I - solemnly assure you that during my entire residence in the kingdom of New-JerseyI never had any thing else. However, I made that avenue. I was justly proud of it. It was a triumph. I borrowed a road-scoop from a very kind neighbor, who afterwards borrowed three bushels of seed-wheat from me. I returned the scoop. I never saw the wheat again. however, I hitched my carriage-horses to that scoop, and a~ I wasp about those times, one of the bone and sinew, since all the flesh I originally brought into the State left me very soon after I got there; and as I might be considered as hard- handed as the best specimen of the working Democracy you could pick up in a days electioneeringwhy, of course, I held the handles of that road-scoop. By the space of two days I ceased not to be jerked backwards and forwards from one side of the road to the other as fast and hard as two spirited. 1856.1 The Chronicles of Persepolis. 135 horses and red-shale earth could perform for me thi~t agreeable office. But my labor was not in vain. I triumphed. From the turnpike to the summit of iRougemont I threw up an avenue of goodly width, and admirable directness. That it might al- ways be firm and dry, and afford a pleasant path for man and beast, I rounded it up in the middle to an extraordinary height. That unutterable, despicable red-shale soil, however, defeated my philosophy, and threw contempt on my engineering. In- stead of becoming more firm by reason of its elevation, it only added depth to the mud. The first rain turned it into a red. shale quicksand, a man-trap and beast-trap, an almost bottom- less pit of destruction. No man, let alone woman, could ven- ture upon it. One man, a farm-hand, bolder than the rest, and armed with the courage of love, (he was going a sparking,) attempted it one damp evening. At three yards distance, from the house he sunk to his arm-pits. After much suffering, he was re- covered, at the expense of many severe contusions and the loss of his Sunday suit, by laying down broad plank, and raising him gradually with rails, which were used as levers. After this, none of the initiated ever atteripted the avenue except in a drought. In our early verdancy, longing naturally after green things, we planted trees of many kinds on either side of the abortion; and labored diligently to make them full of growing ; but they never grew, and what the cattle did not nib down stood barely up in thin and ghastly regularity, at wide intervals, like the poles of an abandoned line of telegraph. Such was the avenue which led up to our Baronial Mansion of iRougemont: our castle not in Espagne, but the kingdom of New-Jersey; which we take to be the next best place in the world for houses without foundation, and castles in the air. It was then, as I said before this digression, about nine months after our banishment. I was sitting, with my wife, at one of the front windows in the second story. It had been raining for three days, and had just ceased. The clouds, not yet entirely broken by the west wind, con- tinued to lower, as they rolled up the sky in fantastic shapes, and tumbled one over the other like leviathans at play. Here and there amongst them began to appear small patches of blue sky, or glimpses of sunshine. 136 f/ike Chronicles of Persepolis. [Feb., My eldest, and then only child, was at. that time four months old. Charming age, in which are blended the innocence of the angel with the vocal properties of the screech-owl! The dear creature lay asleep, near us,in the cradle. It was truly a picture of almost Arcadian felicity. If it had a drawback, however, it was that, as I could not get segars for love, and was particularly short of money, I was just then smoking pig-tail tobacco in a clay pipe. iIit was my first attempt at that sort of thing; and made me in fact, a little sick at the stomach. We were sitting there, I say, in that teuly interesting and delightful situation when I turned my eyes by accident to- wards the avenue. I no sooner did so, than I beheld a sight which caused a strange agitation of my nerves. Far down, near the gate which opened on the turnpike, or was supposed to be capable of opening for any one who ever reached it alive, appeared a novel objecta black speck in facta something which might possibly be a man, since it was certainly too large for a crow. Good Heavens 1 I exclaimed, theres a stranger. A what? said my wife. A stranger, and coming here, said I. My wife turned to look, and gave a little shriek, so as to satisfy the tenderness of her own nerves without injuring those of the baby. Is he crazy, she murmured, to venture upon our avenue? He will sink for ever before he goes three steps further. No 1 said I, he understands his peril. Some body must have betrayed us. He abandons the avenue and keeps along the fence. Get me the spy-glass, and lets see who it is? My wife got the spy-glass. She did not give it to me, how- ever. Of course she didnt. She was a woman, and therefore put it to her own eye first. She rested it upon the window- frame. She got the range. An instant sufficed to carry to her mind not only a conviction of the black specks identity with a man and an acquaintance, but a conviction also that he was a New-Yorker. With female intuition she also divined imme- diatelv his motives for being there, as will shortly be evident. What shall we do ? she exclaimed, thats Cartwright. And pray, said I, Who(delicately referring at the same time to the gentleman with the unmentionable name) Who may Cartwright be ? A fool and a bore, she replied with mingled asperity 1856.] The Chronicle8 of Perseyolis. 137 and trepidation. The greatest fool and most persevering snook in New-York. Ding a-ling-a-ling went the bell, answering with alarming promptness the rigorous application of Mrs. Quiggs nervous grasp upon the pull. Up came Jane Cook, or rather, Jane, who was now cook, chambermaid, ladies maid, childs nurse, and bottle-washer general, to our reduced establishment. Rnn for your life, Jane, exclaimed Mrs. Quigg breath- lessly, and open the parlorwizidows. Mind, the ones on the opposite side from the way that mans coming. Yes, dont stand. there grinning like a fool. Theres a man coming, Jane: theres a man coming, I tell you. Hes coming to stay here. Coming to dinnercoming to sleep. Coming to live forall I know. It would be just like him. And Jane, theres nothing in the house fit for a dog to eat. And take the slip-covers off the parlor-chairs, Jane: and dust the mantle-piece. No, let it alone; youll break something. And make up a roaring fire in the kitchen, thatll look as if we did cook at least. Yah-yah, ow-ow-ow I went the baby, waking up with a jerk, and going into a small exhibition of his infant vocal powers on his own account, whilst precociously evincing his musical t4alents by keeping time with his heels on the foot of the cradle. Husbandtake that child, do! Dont you see Jane cant, and Im most crazy? Are men good for any thin gin the world? Hell hurt himself crying before you stir. Daredare, baby. Mothers pet. Yes, it should cryso it should. Now will you take him? For Heavens sake dont trot his life out of him in that way. The child is not a horse. Youye been with horses so much lately, you grab him as if you were going to put a curb-bit in the dear little darlings mouth, and stick your spurs into him. Why dont you put a saddle on him at once? Do try and remember he isnt made of iron. II dont often ask you to hold him not often enough at any rate, to make you look like a thunder-cloud now when Im in such distress. What shall I wear? There he comes. At any rate it will take him half an hour to get up here: I may thank your avenue for that at least. I havent a dress to my name thats fit to be seen. We ought to have ironed yesterday: but you were get- ting in that rye, and I know all those ten men you had three days running, cost you twice as much as the rye will sell for when youre done. But you would have them here eating up 10 138 The Chronicles of Persepoli& [Feb., every thing in the house; and now were in a pretty fix:. Cart.. wright coming, and nothing to put before him.~~ Bah ! said I, when I got a chance. Whats the use of all this fuss about one man? Did we never have a guest be. fore? Were we never taken, as people must sometimes be in the country, a little out of sorts? Do keep quiet, and be rea- sonable cant you ? Mr. Quigg, said my wife with tragic solemnity, and taking the stage with a sweep, that is, crossing from left to right, with her half-indued dress draped about her with strik. ing negligence, her arm elevated to a right angle with her body, and her fore-finger quivering with intense emotion: Mr. Quigg do you see that man ? Well, I do. That man is Jones Cartwright. The twenty-third time I have been favored with that in- formation, Mrs. Q., in the space of five minutes: That man, Mr. Quigg, is sent here from New-York by the Johusons, the Skeddys, the Joneses, and all that horrid set of people, to see how we live. Yes, to see how we live ! Her voice took a wilde~ tonepassionately contemptuous and indignant. To see whether we get on. To see whether we are poor or rich. Hes nothing better than a spy, Mr. Quigga mise- rable spy, and Pm determined he shant go back to New- York, and tell those people were poor, ifif If we fry the baby for dinner, said I. Unfeeling monster ! exclaimed my better halg with a bounce, which threw the drapery of the bending statue into yet wilder disarrangement, and to hint the truth, gave her an air much more picturesque than presentable. Unfeeling monster, to jest at such a time. That dear baby, however, thanks to my nursing, rough and unskillful as it might be, had dropped away again into a pro- found slumber. Laying it carefully back into the cradle, I went to the mantlepiece, over which hung my rifle, and, taking down that peculiarly national arm, I loaded it and sat down by the window. What are you going to do now ? said Mrs. Q. Going to shoot your friend Cartwright, by accident, when he gets within range, and save you the trouble of receiving him! Good gracious, Mr. Quigg! cant you be serious some- 1856.1 The Chronicles of Pers~~polis. 139 times? Do put that nasty thing away, and hook my dress for me. I put it away! To be sure I put it away. I hooked the dress. Umph! That was by no means so easy as putting up the rifle. However, it was accomplished, and the partner of my bosom being pretty tight, like many other people in the same condition, began to grow amiable, and view the approach of the enemy with less distracted eyes. In fact, I believe that silk dress, with the dingle-um-dangle. ums on the sleeves, and the polly.wobbles on the corsage, al- though restricted in its effects; and that French cap, the soli. tary remains of Madam Megoozelems little bill of five hun- dred, went a great ways towards mollifying her disposition. I have always noticed that women are twice as cross and unreasonable in a morning calico, particularly the shil. ling sort, as in an evening silk, particulaily brocade. The last hook was achieved just as Jane re~ppeared, and an- nounced Mr. Cartwright as being down stairs to see de Missus. The lady of the manor, the Chat~laine of Castle IRougemont, when the last touch had been given to that pet ringlet, and the last twitch to the skirt of that astonishing dress, descended to the parlor to receive, not welcome, our Uninvited Guest. CHAPTER FIFTH. MR. JONES OARTWRJGHT. Having been earnestly adjured thereunto, I didwhat I had not done for a week beforeshaved. I then proceeded to dress myself to go on, for that occasion only in the charac- ter of a Gentleman Farmer. A calico shirt (clean) fancy pattern, white ground, and dogs heads in purple; falling col- lar, tied at the throat with a small blue handkerchief, negli- gently knotted; a canary veskit, light continuations, patent- leather shoes and drab gaiters, short-tailed green sporting-coat, with superb buttonsby Jove they were buttonsand a natty white-feet Golgotha. I flatter myself I was as well made up for the part as any man could be at half-an-hours notice. I descended the stairs, therefore, with mingled satisfaction and anxiety. Satisfaction at my personal rig, and anxiety for the grub. I knew the larder was as clean as a whistle; and I was not sufficiently full of faith to believe that a miracle of flesh would be wrought in our behalf. However, I fell back upon my pet doctrine .of fatality, and resolved that if it 140 The C~kronide& of Per& epo14~. [Feb., were our Kismet our fate, to have proper nice roast duck for dinner, we should have it, and if it were not our Kismet to have the roast duck, we should not have it. At the bottom of the stairs which lauded you in the great hall of Rougemontdimensions 16 ft. by 42I came sud- denly upon our guest. My wife was shaking him heartily by the hand, and too glad to see him for any thing. What with inquiries after his own health and happiness, and the health, wealth, and happiness of every body else in the city of New-Yorkit was several mi- nutes before my presence was noticed at all. At last, however, I was introduced in form to Mr. Jones Cartwright. ile was a little man, the great misfortune of whose life, the shadow upon whose prospects, the thorn in whose flesh, was a nose. And such a nose! A beautiful and exceedingly rare combi- nation of the woodcock and the bottle. It had all the inquisi- tive elongation of the one, and all the jolly solidity of the other. Two little gray eyes, 4hich appeared to have been origi- ginally very dull and foolish, but to have been diligently edu- cated to do the intelligent, peered out, with a kiwd of restless vacuity from either side of that nose: wiry hair, of a dull, dirty, yellowish brown; a squat figure, and a general air of conceit. Such was Mr. Jones Cartwright. I was, of course, introduced, and directly found myself alone with the animal in the parlor, which now shone as brightly, and looked as comfortably as if we really lived in it every day. Mrs. Quigg immediately disappeared. I thought she had gone to prepare a Barmecide feast, or at best a dinner of two courses; stone soup for the first, and Dr. Franklins saw-dust pudding for the second. How I ever lived through the time intervening between that introduction and the ringing of the dinner-bell, I can not pretend to explain. I only know that my chess-table attracted the mans attention, and being challenged by him to a game, I played with much the same distraction of mind as Miranda in the Tempest, but with a very opposite sentiment towards my partner. Mr. Jones Cartwright really knew the moves. He knew no more, and when I beat him repeatedly, with my eyes shut, as one might say, had the transcendental imperti 1856.] The Chronicles of Persepolis. 141. nence, the imperturbably insolent vanity to compliment me upon my game. At last the dinner-bell rung. My heart sank within me. Ii anticipated an introduction to Duke Humphrey. I knew there was next door to nothing in the house. On what then should we dine? We reached the hail where the dinner-table was set. Apicius, Lucullus, Sal1uste~ id genus omne: what a sur- prise! The fairies seemed to have visited us. The dinner- table was set in the finest style. I dont know certainly that the whole crockery closet was emptied upon it, and dared not ask; but I suspect. We sat down. I no more dared to touch one of the block-tin covers of those Sevres china dishes, than I dared to fly. I was sure, like the feast set by some jealous body, I have read of; for some other foolish body, there must be live mice under some of them, for I knew, however sparse the other live stock might be, we had mice in abundance. I looked at my wife. There was a slight flush upon Mrs. Quiggs cheek; but she sat serene, as if conscious of a vic- tory achieved. My bosoms lord began to sit lighter on his throne. I removed the first cQver. Fricaseed chicken. Of course it was fricaseed chicken. Where that chicken came from I never knew. I never had courage to ask. I only know that all our own died of that painful disease incident to the infancy of the domestic fowl, called the pip? I began to believe Mrs. Quigg an en- chantress. I rubbed my hands in a kind of desperate jollity, and snnhng wildly removed the remaining covers. Ham! pota- toes!! beets!! hash H! pork! !!! Why, bless you, we had a dinner fit for a prime minister. It was stylish. It was royaL Ned, our man, a little stunted Hercules, with exaggerated shoulders, and such a pair of calve~ as might set up the king of the Cobalds on his pins for life f Ned was promoted to the dignity of a pair of my white cotton driving-gloves, newly washed, and which is more, had performed the same unu- sual office to his face, and waited. But the most astonishing feature of that dinner, so promptly and wonderfully improvised, not for Mr. Jones Cartwrights sake, but for the sake of the people of New-York in general, and our set in particular, who were supposed to have sent him to spy out the nakedness of the landthe most stupend- ous triumph was the liquors. I knew that my wife had about 142 Th~ C4ronicle8 of Perseyoli~s. [Feb., half a bottle of old port, stuck away somewheres, as a sto- mache in extremity, namely, in case of a certain sinking at the stomach, to which ladies are sometimes subject. I knew also that there was a small bottle of very bitter bitters for the chills, if any body ever got them; and I knew also, very well indeed, that there was a gallon of the newest kind of apple-jack, or cider-whiskey on hand. But I certainly never imagined any one m~d enough to put either of the three upon the dinner-table. What was my surprise then, to hear that remarkable wife of mine pressing, actually pressing our guest to take portof two different vintages. Two kinds of port! And Heaven knows, and I knew, there had not been such a thing within forty miles of the place since grass first grew there. First, however, she indicated one bottle, and then the other. Now, I began to feel thirsty with all these wonders, and whilst she was pressing our guest to do justice to the wine, I did stretch out mine hand to help myself. Ouch! Mrs. Quigg trod on my pet corn. Trod, did I say? Stamped is the word. It was done as quick as light- ningright upon ithard upon itunrelentingly and fiercely upon it. I did not screech. I was too much frightened at my own audacity in daring to think of wine. I felt sick with pain and terror, but I made a heroic effort, and did not faint. I began to see how it was. I did remember me that, some year or so before, I had bought a bottle of Binningers old port, made famous to the world by some particular letter of the alphabet, which I have now forgotten. It was the residue of that bottle, combined with Mrs. Quiggs private drop, slight- ly broken down, as the dealers saythat is, watered, which now did duty for two bottles of two vintages.~~ Upon my honor, and in spite of that private signal by which my corn suffered, and although I knew the water must have spoiled it, I did long for some of that wine. But to parody the affecting lyric, in which a disconsolate young woman says some very harsh things of her mamma: I durst not touch a dTop For her ~ye was upon me. And that eye said, clearly and significantly as any preach- ing: Mr. Quigg, dont you dare to touch a drop of that not a drop for your life, Mr. Quigg. The man with a nose wondered at my abstinence. But I 1S~f3.] The Chroiiides of Persepoli8. 143 quickly put him at his ease, by a discourse upon temperance, which would have gone to Father Mathews heart of hearts. Heaven help me, thirsty sinner that I was, every sentence cost me A pang a~ great as when a giant dies. Bitt it imposed upon our simple-minded guest, and he fell instantly into the belief that I was, at the very least, a tho. rough-paced Washingtonian total-abstinence man. I had one comfort after all; that poor wretchs head was weak, uncom- monly weak; for half-a-dozen glasses of modified port loosened his tongue, and, in addition to being silly, he became also garrulous. He told us that his earlier tendencies had been towards the stage. I knew that, however, before; and no body who ever saw him could deny that he had remarkable powers that way. I remember once we were doing Pizarro, (private of course) and Cartwright was cast for the sentry. Determined to make the most of the part, he put in the stage directions, as part of the text, and when IRolla made as if to enter the cave and prison of Alonzo, Cartwright breasted him manfully, delivering at the same time, in a voice which gradually subsided into his boots: Backback! Pushing him back with his gun. Naturally, when he fired that gun at them, in melancholy thunderous tones remote, the audience went into strong hyste- rics, and the sentinel was immediately relieved by IRollas bursting into a guffaw, and vanishing. These histrionic yearnings had, however, he. informed cis, been graciously overruled by Providence, and the Episcopal ministry presented itself in a fascinating point of view. More pirofound study, however, carried him over to Presbyterianism. A severe cold had then shaken his convictions with regard to Protestantism, and a course of the Patristic writings almost persuaded him to be a Roman, when, suddenly, a turn in his disease, and, possibly, the great weight of his nose, precipitated him into the arms of the Millerites, and he assured us he was now laboring, with great success, in that particular fold. This agreeable relation brought him to the bottom of the bottle, and us to the end of the dinner; and the gentlema~ being by this time quite sleepy, was easily persuaded to take a napa siestaan afternoon snooze in his room. We put him safely away, and then went to work. 144 f/ike ($ronicle& of Per8epolis. [Feb., Mrs. Quigg was Arid indeed, and flamed amazement from the top of the house to the bottom. Messengers were dispatched to Persepolis, and by tea-time, we had levied contributions upon every shop in the place, (cm tick,) as well as invited and drawn together all the most dis- tinguished males and females thereof, to a regular blow out. When Cartwright awoke, the whole place was vocalvery vocal indeedwith the voices of an hundred fair ladies and their squires. He was in utter amazement. The tea-table was set, and all were just on the point of sitting down to it, when he appeared. His eyes opened to the width of saucers. During his sleep we had unpacked that barrd of china, which we never expected to unpack in those parts; and crimson, bufi and gold gorgeously illustrated the table from end to end. Recd spermacetti candles were burning in large branches at each end of the table; and, in short, we were as fine as five- penceand finer. Oh! the tea we forced that unhappy emissary of envious Gotham to drink! Oh! the waffles we forced that miserable spy of the Johnsons and Joneses to eat! Oh! the tongue, and ham, and Bologna sausage, and bread and butter, and hot biscuit, and pound cake, and jumbles with a hole in the middle, and jam, we crammed down the throat of that vacillating religionist, and miserable tool of inquisitive New-York. If he lived after it all it was a miracle. So, when tea was over, the fiddler camel and we danced all night; and, finally, by virtue of a bowl of punch, put him to bed as happy as a lord. But my wife went to bed that night happier still. Now, let him go back, said she, let him; and let them pump him. He cant say we dont live at Rougemont. I should fancy not. We lived for twenty that day. 1856.] f/Jo S. L. 1. 145 TO S. E. F. BY W. H. ~. HOSMER. I. A LADY asks a verse from me To stain this spotless leaf; A votive line to memory, Though fugitive and brief; And I comply, although mine eye On her has never gazed; Let Fancy paint a likeness faint, With look, to heaven upraised. II. She is a wife sincere and true, And loves the hearth Qf home; Her eyesI think they must be blue, Like heavens azure dome; Upon her knee a babe in glee Lifts up its sportive hands; While near~ the while, with happy smile, An honest husband stands. III. Long may your cup oerbrim with joy, Ye worthy wedded pair! And many a blooming girl and boy Your fire-side pleasures share. Ah! may ye know nor grief nor woe, In this dark world of ours, But down Lifes tide in safety ride Between bright banks of flowers.

1856.] f/Jo S. L. 1. 145 TO S. E. F. BY W. H. ~. HOSMER. I. A LADY asks a verse from me To stain this spotless leaf; A votive line to memory, Though fugitive and brief; And I comply, although mine eye On her has never gazed; Let Fancy paint a likeness faint, With look, to heaven upraised. II. She is a wife sincere and true, And loves the hearth Qf home; Her eyesI think they must be blue, Like heavens azure dome; Upon her knee a babe in glee Lifts up its sportive hands; While near~ the while, with happy smile, An honest husband stands. III. Long may your cup oerbrim with joy, Ye worthy wedded pair! And many a blooming girl and boy Your fire-side pleasures share. Ah! may ye know nor grief nor woe, In this dark world of ours, But down Lifes tide in safety ride Between bright banks of flowers. 146 The 214stery of 3IiU8ZC. [Feb., THE MYSTERY OF MUSIC. -- The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet sirs that give delight and hurt; not. Music is the only form of the beautiful, left to poor fallen man over which the trail of the serpent has not passed. Mis- place it in the haunts of vice, mis-ally it with coarse or sensual pleasures you may, but it takes no taint, brings away none of the slime. Released from its false position it comes forth pure as ever. Like the Lady, it is proof against all the arts of Comus and his beastly rout, and passes through them un- harmed. Music never slanders, spreads and perpetuates no calumny; is incapable of being made the medium of envy, strife, or hatred; can not utter treason or convey impurity hurts not. Hoffman, in his quaint German fashion, says: Every police director may safely give his testimony to the utter innocuousness of a newly-invented musical instrument, in all matters touching religion, the state, and public morals; and every music-master may unhesitatingly pledge his word to the parents of his pupils, that his new sonata does not con- tain one reprehensible idea. Just at this time when the Philharmonic Society of New- York is exerting such a wide influence, and becoming so amazingly popular with the younger portion of our commu- nity, we can not do better than to show them how much of their attention and love this delightful science may justly claim. We do not intend to attempt a formal review-article on this theme. With the strongest intentions leading that way, we should inevitably fail for want of ability; and with all the ability in the world, we should not feel inclined to be didactic or dignified on this subject. Our desire is simply to throw out some thoughts of our own, and other peoples that we have preserved, for the purpose of showing our young friends, that the art which has contributed so healthily to their amusement, affords many topics for philosophic meditation. Whence art thoufrom what causes dost thou spring, 0 music! thou divine, mysterious thing ?

146 The 214stery of 3IiU8ZC. [Feb., THE MYSTERY OF MUSIC. -- The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet sirs that give delight and hurt; not. Music is the only form of the beautiful, left to poor fallen man over which the trail of the serpent has not passed. Mis- place it in the haunts of vice, mis-ally it with coarse or sensual pleasures you may, but it takes no taint, brings away none of the slime. Released from its false position it comes forth pure as ever. Like the Lady, it is proof against all the arts of Comus and his beastly rout, and passes through them un- harmed. Music never slanders, spreads and perpetuates no calumny; is incapable of being made the medium of envy, strife, or hatred; can not utter treason or convey impurity hurts not. Hoffman, in his quaint German fashion, says: Every police director may safely give his testimony to the utter innocuousness of a newly-invented musical instrument, in all matters touching religion, the state, and public morals; and every music-master may unhesitatingly pledge his word to the parents of his pupils, that his new sonata does not con- tain one reprehensible idea. Just at this time when the Philharmonic Society of New- York is exerting such a wide influence, and becoming so amazingly popular with the younger portion of our commu- nity, we can not do better than to show them how much of their attention and love this delightful science may justly claim. We do not intend to attempt a formal review-article on this theme. With the strongest intentions leading that way, we should inevitably fail for want of ability; and with all the ability in the world, we should not feel inclined to be didactic or dignified on this subject. Our desire is simply to throw out some thoughts of our own, and other peoples that we have preserved, for the purpose of showing our young friends, that the art which has contributed so healthily to their amusement, affords many topics for philosophic meditation. Whence art thoufrom what causes dost thou spring, 0 music! thou divine, mysterious thing ? 18~6.] The Alystery of ililusic. 147 In vain shall we task the knowledge and experience of others, or our own sensations, to furnish a satisfactory answer to this question. In some unknown depth of our nature, so far down in our inner mysterious life that no moral or intellectual ana- tomy can reach it, to dissect, lay bare, and explain, lies this wondrous gift. Born of no material parent and traceable to nothing outward and external as its source, yet existing as we know within us, in the full strength and vigor of maturity Whence art thou, divine, mysterious thing? A clever writer says: We only know, and only can know of music that its science is an instinct of our natureits sub- jects, the emotions of our heartsthat at every step we ad- vance in its fundamental laws we are but deciphering what is written within us, not transcribing any thing from without. We know that the law which requires, that after three whole notes a half-note must succeed is a part of ourselvesa ne- cessity of our beingone of the signs that distingutsh man from the brute. With this illustration we are not quite satisfied. The minor scale which, by some good authorities, is claimed as the natural scale, has the half-tone after the second, and the old Italian probably had no half-tone at all. The authors position, however, is undoubtedly true, and the re- flection we would make is this, that when we undertake to reason about music in its more recondite relations, we shall be met at every turn by strange and contradictory phenomena, overturning our best-reasoned theories and puzzling our sci- ence hopelessly. We recollect reading, that once upon a time, the musicians instinct and the mathematicians demon- stration came into open conflict. The French mathematicians had demonstrated by a mathematical problem, which could not err, that D flat stood higher (that is, represented a more acute sound) than C sharp. Now, the musicians did not know much about the demonstration, exQept that whether it could err or not, they knew it was wrong here, and that the very converse of what it proved was true. Their instinct told them that; and their instinct they believed in above all the problems in the world. The theorists stood out manfully for their theory, which, mathematically, could not be wrong, and insisted, that the musicians musical organization must be faulty. DAlembert, Savart, and others, however, with the modesty which belongs to true greatness, admitted the error in the cal- 148 !1Ae A1yste~, of llfu8id. [Feb., culation, and confessed that some element too fine and impal- pable for science had been revealed to instinct. There is, however, a close and interesting relation between the two sci- ences, one which has never been more than partially de- veloped. The ordinary mention made in mathematical trea- tises of the division of vibrations of a string, into thirds, fifths, and eighths ~r octaves, and some other proportions, is but a glimpse, a faint hint of the boundless field of investigation, whichhas never yet been explored. To give a single instance, for we can not dilate on this point here, take a well-made violin, one which possesses a rich, full tone, and equal in all the different keys; one,, in fine, which is musically perfect, and you will find on examination, that this instrument presents in all its component parts a series of exact mathematical proportions; that it is mathematically as well as musically perfect. Our author above quoted, says: The con- nection between sounds and numbers is a fact which at once in- vests music with the highest dignity. lilt is like adding to the su- perstructure of a delicate flower the roots of an oak of the forest. Far from being a frivolous art, meant only for a pastime of the senses, in hours of idleness, it would seem to be of that import- ance to mankind, that we are expressly furnished with a dou- ble means of testing its truth. The simple instinct of a correct ear, and the closest calculations of a mathematical head give the same verdict. Science proves what the ear detects; the ear ratifies what science asserts ; instinct and demonstration coalesce as they do in no other art. The mere fact that music and mathematics should be allied, is a kind of phenomenon.~~ That the minds of DAlembert and Beethoven should have a common starting-point, seems wonderful enough. lilt is wonderful too that the same mind should be equally gifted in both these sciences; and especially wonderful that this so often happens as almost to warrant the induction that it forms the rule rather than the exception. A friend, who has the most perfect musical organization we ever knew, has also a most remarkable mathematical capacity. Mendelssohn is not more excellent as a composer than as a mathematician; and so of many others who might be named. It is not a little curious in this connection, that the alliance between poetry and musicthe popular notion that they are sister arts, and co~xist in the same organization, is a pure fallacy. Byron, Scott, Wordsworth, and Bryant, never com- posed a tune in their lives, and probably did not know, and could not learn to know a slow movement of Mozart from one 185f3j The Afy8tery of Ku8i~. 149 of Beethoven. Whilst, on the other hand, we console our- selves with the thought, that neither of the great composers we have named could write any better verses than we can. And this, we are free to confess, is stating their capacity in the poetic line at the lowest point. Amongst the many phenomena which present themselves for our contemplation, none are more interesting than the peculiar part which memory plays in connection with music. In all its other operations the mind exercises more or less ac- tivity in receiving impressions, in acquiring perceptions of the simplest external objects; whilst in laying up a store of musi- cal recollections, it makes not the slightest effort. And yet things thus added to it, when in a state of entire passivity, the mind retains with the most fidelity. The faintest glimpse of a thought, the bare hint of an idea brings up in all its vivid- ness, some strain impressed on the mind when it was scarcely conscious of the impression. Who can tell us why the ear should have such ready a~cess to the place where memory dwells, and be a life-long tenant there, more than any of the other organs or even sentiments? We may forget the land- scape which spread away in front of the cottage where we were born; the picture that hung over the fire-place; the woman we loved or the man we hated; the ambition we cherished; but the tunes that mother or nurse sang for us, that the blind fiddler played at the door, have become part of our very mind. But more wonderful still, even where reason is unseated from her throne, and memory presents only distorted and un- natural pictures of every other thou.ght, emotion, or impres- sion, adding new horrors to the scene, some well-known strain comes to the mind or ear, and memory, in that strong and true as ever, will repeat the air. The crazed mother sings her babe to sleep as she once did before a cold worlds scorn had turned her brain to fire. The dramatists and poets have well understood this pecu- liarity. Their close observation of nature has led them when they exhibit the passion of madness, to introduce their charac- ters singing snatches of old airs learned in infancy, or in hap- pier times. The master Shakspeare makes poor Ophelia, divided from herself and her fair judgment, come in sing- ing: How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle-hat and stafi And his sandal shoon. ico The 3fystery of 3fu~ic. [Feb., So, too, Scotts Blanche of iDevon, introduced to us as a crazed and captive Lowland maid, singing the song she learned by Devon side, in a voice which rung wildly sweet to dale and hill: For oh! my sweet William was forester true, lie stole poor Blanches heart away! lli~ coat it was all of the greenwood hue, And so blithely he trilled the lowland lay! The power of musical memory in cases of insanity is well established, and when called into play always exercises a be- neficent influence. One of the most remarkable instances on record is that of Philip V. of Spain. The king had been laboring under a melancholy madness for some time, had re- fused to shave or change his dress, when some one happily suggested that Farinelli should be sent for. This was done, and the great singer came, and placing himself in a chamber next adjoining that of the kings, sang an air which had been an especial favorite with the unhappy monarch. As the singer continued, the air of listless melancholy which had for so long a time marked the whole demeanor of the king, began to give place to an expression of pleased attention, which con- tinued as long as Farinelli sang. This was repeated frequently through the day, and for many days, until at length Philip V. was completely restored. It is worthy to be toad, though whether music deserves the credit or not we can not with any certainty determine, that this case forms an exception to royal ingratitude, and opera-singers presumption. For the history which we read, goes on to relate that the king bestowed honor and splendid estates on Farinelli, who bore his honors so gently, and spent his money so generously, that he came well-nigh to living peacefully with the Castilian nobility. As we have already said, there are many phenomena con- nected with this science that will puzzle our metaphysics and dialectics to explain. We had better in most cases imitate the example of DAlem- bert, and take it for granted that there is something too fine and impalpable in its essence to be rightly measured, weighed or defined by exact science. Some things we do know about it. We know that it is pr& minently univocal. In all time and to every heart it speaks one and the same language. Differ- ing from most things, it differs in nothing more than this, that the bad and the goodthe tyrant and the patriotthe heathen and the Christianthe scoffer and the believer, have all alike 1714e Cloven Foot. 151 felt its influence, and, discordant on every other point, have united to do it homage. If Alfred loved music, so did Nero. If Cceur de Lion was a sweet musician, so was Charles IX Martin Luther the Reformer, and Pope Gregory the head of the Church Milton the divine Democrat, and Charles II. the debased king?; Henry VilE defender of the Faith and of the divine right of kings, and Oliver Cromwell, the hammer of the Lord, to break kings in pieces, all, while agreeing in no other point of be- lief; united to pay true, hearty homage to the science of music. All ages and conditions of menthe old man tottering on the brink of the grave, stays his palsied step, and listens with more of youthful animation than aught else can give, to the well-remembered strains of his early years: the young man dashing wildly into the whirlpool of life at the bidding of pleasure and ambition, takes a short breathing space, in his mad rush, when the songs of home and childhood fill the air.~~ Kings upon their thrones, and beggars at the gates, rich and poor, wise and simple, passionate and meek, children, in- sane, and puir witless bodies, all love music. There is but one order of beings, as Luther says, who hate musicdevils. THE CLOVEN FOOT. imto bad causes swear, Such creatures as men doubt ; SIIAK. IN estimating the value of horses, cattle, sheep, and even pigs, their pedigree is often very properly considered. Whe- ther that of the political proclivities of men may not with equal propriety and profit be inquired into will appear in the sequel. By so doing we may perhaps find a father for what might otherwise appear to be a party upon a platform so en- tirely fresh and original as to seem a new creation. We con- tend that there is always some leaven of original righteonsness or original sin, and perhaps both, in man and all his inven

1714e Cloven Foot. 151 felt its influence, and, discordant on every other point, have united to do it homage. If Alfred loved music, so did Nero. If Cceur de Lion was a sweet musician, so was Charles IX Martin Luther the Reformer, and Pope Gregory the head of the Church Milton the divine Democrat, and Charles II. the debased king?; Henry VilE defender of the Faith and of the divine right of kings, and Oliver Cromwell, the hammer of the Lord, to break kings in pieces, all, while agreeing in no other point of be- lief; united to pay true, hearty homage to the science of music. All ages and conditions of menthe old man tottering on the brink of the grave, stays his palsied step, and listens with more of youthful animation than aught else can give, to the well-remembered strains of his early years: the young man dashing wildly into the whirlpool of life at the bidding of pleasure and ambition, takes a short breathing space, in his mad rush, when the songs of home and childhood fill the air.~~ Kings upon their thrones, and beggars at the gates, rich and poor, wise and simple, passionate and meek, children, in- sane, and puir witless bodies, all love music. There is but one order of beings, as Luther says, who hate musicdevils. THE CLOVEN FOOT. imto bad causes swear, Such creatures as men doubt ; SIIAK. IN estimating the value of horses, cattle, sheep, and even pigs, their pedigree is often very properly considered. Whe- ther that of the political proclivities of men may not with equal propriety and profit be inquired into will appear in the sequel. By so doing we may perhaps find a father for what might otherwise appear to be a party upon a platform so en- tirely fresh and original as to seem a new creation. We con- tend that there is always some leaven of original righteonsness or original sin, and perhaps both, in man and all his inven 152 The Cloven Foo?5. [Feb., tions. The modest, unassuming cognomen of Know-No- thing strikes the mind at first as something new; but when the objects of the organization are disclosed, and the ends it aims at, pointed out, its novelty vanishes, and we behold in the field an old enemy, whose great-grandfather the oldest inhabitant was well acquainted with. Know-Nothingism is the lineal descendant of a somewhat illustrious and very noto- rious political house; and is heir to its honors, its virtues, its patriotism, its exclusiveness, and its disgrace. Its great grand- father flourished in the time of the elder Adams, and rendered itself conspicuous by the enactment of the Alien and Sedition laws of that remarkable period. The alien law was identical in principle with the doctrine upon which Know-Kothingism plants its standard. The only difference (if it be such) con- sists in the secresy with which deeds which were odious in the light may now be perpetrated in the dark. Men are said to seek darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil. The Federalists were men of more courage; and, as courage and honesty generally exist in the same breast, it is fair to in- fer that they had more integrity than the bantling of the fourth generation, with which the Democracy of the present day have to contend. In the Federal generation of Know- Nothingism, a lantern with a blue light in it, placed upon a can- dlestick, was a significant emblem of its patriotism. It was used in time of war to guide their friends from the fast-an- chored isle to a safe landing-place upon our shores. This was open and above board. Their proceedings against strangers who might come hither to escape oppression or from admi- ration of our social and political institutions, were also perpe- trated in broad daylight, and backed by the sanction of pub- lie, though unconstitutional, enactments. So far, they did not shun the light or conceal their own. The reason may have been that, inasmuch as the light that was in them was dark- ness, it needed no concealment. The dark lantern of their plan was also an open piece of work. It ornamented the other horn of their altar. It was the sedition law, vulgarly termed the gag law. The oldest inhabitant may possibly recollect that this enactment protected the high functionaries then in power from the unmannerly rudeness of the public press. Could public sentiment have been dragooned into submission to a statute so subversive of liberty, and so fraught with dan ger to free institutions, there never would have been need of secret organizations of unpatriotic men to accomplish sectarian ends, or to oppress the strangers within our gates. An oh- 1856] The Cloven Foot. 153 garchy might have existed amongst us, if silence could have been enforced; one perhaps as much to be dreaded and as fatal to freedom as Know-Nothingism will be if the govern- ment shall ever come within the grasp of its oath-bound vota- ries. The enforcing of the gag-law was attempted; and that fearless and uncompromising champion of open~handed, flat- footed Democracythe late William Duane of Philadelphia had forty indictments, under its provisions, pending against him at one time. Jefferson came to the rescue, and all was set right. The National Republican generation of this House of Darkness will be kept in memory so long as history shall faith- fully record the struggle which resulted in the election of An- drew Jackson, in 1828, and his re~Aection, after having vetoed the U. S. Bank, in 1832. Irish hod-carriers and ignorant foreigners were charged with all the misfortune, defeat, and disgrace in which Federalism had gone down to perdition, and its successor had been brought to the brink of the precipice. No well-informed man who participated in the stirring scenes of General Jacksons administration can fail to recollect with what ridicule and malevolence the class of voters, consisting of naturalized citizens, were visited by the National Republican party and its journals. The hatred manifested in the passage of the alien bill at an earlier period was unabated up to the time the party was compelled to go through with a second operation, we forget what it is called, which changes a worm into a butterfly. The removal of the deposits brought about this change. It was solemnly resolved, that the ancient and honorable house of Federalism, not having been able to retrieve its fallen fortunes under the National Republican~~ standard, should thenceforward be known as a whig party. But in its new name, its old acts, principles, and proclivities remained unchanged. It still hated every thing but itself; and prayed still: God bless me and my wife, My son John and his wife, We four, and no more. There was no perceptible change in its tone towards the foreign population till 1852, and that change was so manifestly a naked fraud,a piece of such unblushing hypocrisy,that the hod-carriers couldnt swallow it. Whigism and its downfall completed the third symbolical generation of the party which now rejoices in the high fortunes 11 154 The Clove~i Foot. [Feb., of Know-Nothingism. What bad men could not accomplish in open warfare, they are now seeking to perpetuate by a secret consp1racy. Let us look for a moment at their prospects. It must be borne in mind, that the Know-Nothing order does not take in the whole of those who acted as Whigs. It only embraces that part of the Whigs proper which comprise its aristocracy, bigotry, and intolerance. The fanatic part, made up chiefly of that portion which had been anti-masons, abolitionists, and free-soilers, are organized, in a half-way sort of separate opposi- tion to the Democratic party, under Seward, who repudiates the dark-lantern oligarchy. Western New-York, Northern Ohio, the States of Vermont and Massachusetts, and some por- tions of Pennsylvania, were the only parts of the country where anti-masonry, as a political organization, had any strong foot- hold. Its organization was abandoned for the benefit of the Whig party during the last term of Jacksons presidency, and, upon that event, some of the younger inhabitants may remem- ber, the abolition p artynot then fully recognized by him, but now led by William II. Sewardcame into existence. A class of politicians who had ridden the anti-masonic hobby till it became a rack of bones, wanted a fresh one, and chose this. It is worthy of remark that almost the entire force of what constitutes the Black Republican party is from tbe identical territory where anti-masonry flourished, and consists of the same men and their descendants. It is also worthy of consi dera- tion, in computing the prospect of any accessions to the Know- Nothings from such a quarter, and should be taken into account, that these men were for years enthusiastically and fiercely arrayed against a secret order far less dangerous to public liberty, not political in its character, and on which it could only be shown, and that not fully, that a single individual had been a victim df its vengeance, in accordance with the imprecations contained in its oath of secresy. There is now offered for their support a secret order of politicians who in the most solemn manner call God to witness that they will hereafter make a mans birth- place and his religion a bar to his participation in the privi- leges and honors legally vouchsafed to him by our constitution and laws. Masonry they branded as an institution carable of acting secretly and wickedly at the ballot-box, by preferring its own members to other men of equal merit, and by secret concert securing their election. They are now called upon to contemplate the stupendous power to do evil possessed by 1856.] The Cloven JJbot. 155 a wealthy and numerous class, not only capable of the wicked- ness charged upon the masonic order, but in the skirts of whose garments the life-blood of many is already to be found; and who profess an exclusiveness which recognizes no man, not in the conspiracy, as fit to hold an office of honor or trust in the government. The natural impulse of nine-tenths even of the abolitionists is to put down and crush out such an infamously secret, oath-bound confederation of ambitious men. Let us take another view of its prospects of success. Will any impartial and sound-minded man pretend that it is not already a house divided against itself? We assert that it stands at this moment before the country a mongrelized, Janus- faced, and cloven-footed object of execration. The Southern portion of its members are unanimously in favor of the com- promise measures of 1850, and the principles established by the passage of the Nebraska bill. It thus plants one foot in the South with a smiling face, and tells the people of that sec- tionwhat? It announces that its principles are precisely the same as those asserted and vindicated by the Democracy, so far as Southern interests are in question. They quote a section of their platform to prove this. At the North, the conspiracy wears a different aspect, and stands upon a cloven-foot. Half its members are openly and fiercely opposed to the fugitive slave law, and not only demand its repeal as a sine ~ua non, but the repeal of the Nebraska Act and the restoration of the Missouri Compromise line. The other half give a reluctant assent to the national principles put forth in a section of the Philadelphia platform. The glaring fact is before the country that delegates from the States North and West met very re- cently at Cincinnati, and there, with singular unanimity, passed resolutions condemning and repudiating the only section of the Philadelphia platform that gives the conspiracy the least possible chance of support in a single Southern State. Suc- cess in New-York over the Seward faction, where there was ~ spirited contest for supremacy between the two, has em- boldened the Know-Nothings to endorse the national feature of their creed; but in no New-England State nor in any West- ern one has such assent been given, nor can it be obtained. The Democracy of the North, East, and West are consequently the only shield upon which the South can rely to protect their interests from the aggressive policy of the abolitionists. They now present an unbroken phalanx, with all the national prin- ciples of the Democratic. party emblazoned upon their standard. Upon these principles they are perfectly united, even in New- I~f3 The Cloven~ Rot. [Feb., York, and ready to do battle for the nominees of the Cincin- nati Convention. Can the South be bamboozled with the idea that the constitution, which guarantees them security and peace, can be safely entrusted to men who are sworn to violate its spirit and meaning? Such an imputation would be a reflec- tion upon their intelligence. We claim that in the coming Presidential contest, the North will present an unbroken front in opposition to Know-Nothingism. Can it carry Vermont? Fusion has that in its breeches-pocket already. Can it carry New-York? The Democrats have a decided majority over either of the two factions into which Whiggery is divided. In Massachusetts, when the Abolition and Free-soil gentry are counted out, there will scarcely be a corporals guard for the night-walkers to glory in. IRhode Island, Connecticut New- Hampshire, and Maine went for Pierce and King in 1852, and they will go Democratic again, unless there is such a fusion of Black Republicans and Know-Nothings as leaves neither faction its identity. It is possible they may harness the ox and the ass together in defiance of the command of God; but if they do, we shall behold a scene of hooking on the part of the ox, and kicking performed by the ass, that will be both amusing and instructive. NOTESince the foregoing was in type, we have been reminded of a somewhat celebrated secret political association which existed during the war of ] 812. The Veterans will remember it welL It resulted in the Hartford Convention, which also conducted its patriotic deliberations with closed doors. In New-England, nearly the whole body of the Federalists opposed to the war belonged to it. The initiation fee was one dollar. Each member received a little book containing, amongst other things, a certificate of his membership, signed by the officers of the Lodge to which he belonged. The funds thus collected were appropriated to the political objects of the Federal party. The organization was styled Tus WASH- INGTON BENIWOLENT SOcIETY. It died of a broken heart, soon after the battle of New-Orleans. 1856.] The lAfe and TForks of Goethe. 157 L~f~ and Works of Goethe. By G. II. LEWES. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. FEW readers of the present day but have at some time read The Sorrows of Werther. It was as common twenty or thirty years ago, as The Three Spaniards, Alonzo and ilfelissa, or Charlotte TempleY You could not put up at a country tavern without seeing it in the parlor beside the Bible, nor visit a cir- culating library without finding three or four dogs-eared copies of it on the first shelf. Baron Von Goethe, as the title-page called him, was a famous man. The early works of Goethe were unfortunate for his after-reputation. The class of readers who admired them most, the sentinientalists of TlTerther, and the romantacists of Goetz Von Berlichingen were unfitted to judge his calmer and more classic efforts, whilst those who disliked him as he appeared in the storm and stress period of his literary life were equally blind to his riper merits. The Goethe of IYerther is not the true Goethe, not the wise old man of Weimar, rich in experience and culture, but the, eccentric, dare- devil student, self-questioning, and impatient of control. There was never a sounder intellect than Goethes: there was never a more unsound book than Iferther. Extremes meet in the life and works of this wonderful man. After Werther, Faust is his most popular work, and probably the one by which posterity will know and judge him. It is an incomparable master-piece, as great in its way as The Odyssey or Hamlet. It touches the secret of life, the mystery of the universe. All thoughts, all passions, all delights; Whatever stirs this mortal frame, find a recognition in it. It lets the light into the deepest and darkest cells of the human heart. Its pathos and humor are alike excell~nt and profound. Concerning Goethe we have known but little up to the pre- sent time; that is, those of us who only read English. To be sure we have several biographies, more or less lengthy and accurate. For instance, Parke Godwins translation of Wahr- heit und Dichtung, originally published in Putnams Library of books which are books, and afterwards printed by Oxenford and re-printed in Bohns Standard Library. Still we knew but

1856.] The lAfe and TForks of Goethe. 157 L~f~ and Works of Goethe. By G. II. LEWES. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. FEW readers of the present day but have at some time read The Sorrows of Werther. It was as common twenty or thirty years ago, as The Three Spaniards, Alonzo and ilfelissa, or Charlotte TempleY You could not put up at a country tavern without seeing it in the parlor beside the Bible, nor visit a cir- culating library without finding three or four dogs-eared copies of it on the first shelf. Baron Von Goethe, as the title-page called him, was a famous man. The early works of Goethe were unfortunate for his after-reputation. The class of readers who admired them most, the sentinientalists of TlTerther, and the romantacists of Goetz Von Berlichingen were unfitted to judge his calmer and more classic efforts, whilst those who disliked him as he appeared in the storm and stress period of his literary life were equally blind to his riper merits. The Goethe of IYerther is not the true Goethe, not the wise old man of Weimar, rich in experience and culture, but the, eccentric, dare- devil student, self-questioning, and impatient of control. There was never a sounder intellect than Goethes: there was never a more unsound book than Iferther. Extremes meet in the life and works of this wonderful man. After Werther, Faust is his most popular work, and probably the one by which posterity will know and judge him. It is an incomparable master-piece, as great in its way as The Odyssey or Hamlet. It touches the secret of life, the mystery of the universe. All thoughts, all passions, all delights; Whatever stirs this mortal frame, find a recognition in it. It lets the light into the deepest and darkest cells of the human heart. Its pathos and humor are alike excell~nt and profound. Concerning Goethe we have known but little up to the pre- sent time; that is, those of us who only read English. To be sure we have several biographies, more or less lengthy and accurate. For instance, Parke Godwins translation of Wahr- heit und Dichtung, originally published in Putnams Library of books which are books, and afterwards printed by Oxenford and re-printed in Bohns Standard Library. Still we knew but 158 The ]3fe and Works of Goethe. [Feb., little of Goethe. The Wahrheit und Dichtung ends with his twenty-sixth or seventh year~ in many respects the most un- eventful period of his life. His long connection with the Court of Weimar, the exalted personages, noble, literary, and artistic, with which it brought him in contact; the many and widely different works it producedin fact, his whole man- hood and age remained a myth to the majority of readers ont of Germany. It is a myth no longer, thanks to the admirable volumes of Mr. Lewes. We are not sure that they will satisfy the great Germans worshippers, so closely and dispassionately does Mr. Lewes dissect his life in its various phases, and so honestly state his own opinions regarding some of Goethes enigmas and mistakes; but they will charm the world of general readers, and take a permanent place among the best biogra- phies in the language. Mr. Lewes admires and loves Goethe, but he does not blindly adhere to him: the fetish worship of genius forms no portion of his literary breed. He mottoes his book from Jung Stilling: Goethes heart which none knew, was as great as his mind which all knew ; but he fails, we think, to make ont his case. Goethes life can scarcely be considered a pattern of propriety. He kept a mis- tress for years, and had a bad habit of falling in love with the last pretty face that he saw. If the pretty face happened to belong to another man it made but little difference to the sus- ceptible poet. He was not above coveting his neighbors wife. These are not deadly sins in the decalogue of genius, however much they may be condemned by Moses and the Prophets. We deplore them, and pass on. They are not incompatible with that strange thing which we call heart; the mores the pity. But a certain coldness and selfishness of nature which Goethe possessed makes us doubt the heart of any man in whom they are inherent. Setting aside his violations of the moral law he some how fails to satisfy the law of our affections. The light of his glory Plays round the head, but comes not near the heart. It may be that our feeling is wrong, but we can not reason against itbecause it is a feeling! We admire Goethe, but do not love him. Stillings motto, and Mr. Lewess fine writing go for nothing here. Elsewhere we unhesitatingly place our- selves in his hands, and follow him through the stately palace of Goethes life. All literary students and lovers of biography should read, mark, and inwardly digest it. 1856.] The L?fe and IFork8 of Goethe. 159 Mr. Lewes we believe is the Vivian of the London Leader, and as a theatrical critic has, in our opinion, no superior. There are no false refinements, or mere word-catches in his criticisms. They display a large feeling for the drama, and a more than ordinary acquaintance with its best masters. To him Marlowes mighty line must be familiar. We do not find, however, that he contrasts anywhei~e the Faust of Goethe, and the Faustus of Marlowe. To us the latter has always seemed the greater work. Shakspeare appreciated Marlowe; he evidently ranked him highest amongst the dra. matists of the age which wore upon its garments the jewels of Marston, Dekkar, Rowley, Massinger, Ford, John Lyly, and Rare Old Ben; and upon its brow the round and top of his own imperial sovereignty over nature. Marlowe always connects himself in our mind with Goethe by the mysticism of Faust. What Robinson Crusoe is to the physical passion of the mindlonging for some strange, far-off place to act out its capacities for creationsome spot no other foot has trodsome solitude to people with the actual reproduction of the wild models made in day-dreamsFaust is to the mental longing for immortal powerpower transcending humanity, yet taking humanity, with all its weaknesses and luxurious desires, along with itand tipping the edge of common appetite with eternal adamant. Thus, in the Faustus of Marlowe this finds expres- sion:. as where Mephistophilus brings Helen of Troy before him to be his paramour, and Faustus stretches his arms wildly towards, and cries: Is this the face that fired a thousand ships, And burned the topless towers of Ilium? Come, Helen, make me immortal with a kiss! Her lips suck forth my soulsee where it flies ! There is a simple grandeur also in the metaphysical parts of Marlowe which seem to us to rise into a higher air than Goethe reaches: as for instance, when Faustus asks Mephistophilus, Where is hell; his Satanic Compagnon du voyage replies: Hell is not circumscribed to one self place, 2But when the elements sh4l be burned up, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be .Uel~ that are not Heaven. A notice of a memoir is not perhaps the best place for such a comparison as institutes itself in our mind between Marlowe 160 The Progress of Baptis?~ Principles. [Feb., and Goethe. We merely indicate it in the hope of drawing out Mr. Lewes, or some other critic competent to the task of a good. article on the comparative merits of the two Fausts. The Progress of Baptist Prindples in the last Hundred Years. By THOMAS F. CURTIS, Professor of Theology in the Uni- versity at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Boston: Gould and Lincoln. New-York: Sheldon, Lamport & Blakeman. WE are something at a loss how to enter upon a critical dis- cussion of the merits of Professor Curtiss work. The merits of different doctrinal systems, and relative excellence of reli- gioris forms of belief are not subjects which we feel called to discuss. The relationship of religious institutions, and senti- ments of action to the political life and structure of states is one which falls clearly within the province of a political maga. zine. That the internal policy, and external structure, and in- fluence of Baptist churches assimilates most nearly to iRepub- licanismthal, it is, in fact, a pure Republican form of Christ- ianity, it seems to us their history very clearly shows. At the basis of their system lies the .VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLE. The same principle underlies all Democratic Republicanism. A church, therefore, which ignores distinctions between men; which rejects hierarchies and aristocratic badges; which consists of a voluntary association of individuals, and denies the power or right of civil government to interfere with hu- man conscience in matters of religion, appears to us the most powerful ally of Democracy in civil government. Professor Curtis undertakes to show that this is the case with regard to Baptists and Baptist principles. He cites his authorities, and invites examination. As the fairest criticism upon his book we give a running synopsis of its contents and arguments, leaving to those who dissent the opportunity of examining for themselves to see if these things be so. Their principles, he says, embrace: 1. Freedom of Conscience, and the entire separation of Church and State. 2. A Converted Church Membership. 3. Sacraments inoperative without Choice and Faith.

160 The Progress of Baptis?~ Principles. [Feb., and Goethe. We merely indicate it in the hope of drawing out Mr. Lewes, or some other critic competent to the task of a good. article on the comparative merits of the two Fausts. The Progress of Baptist Prindples in the last Hundred Years. By THOMAS F. CURTIS, Professor of Theology in the Uni- versity at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Boston: Gould and Lincoln. New-York: Sheldon, Lamport & Blakeman. WE are something at a loss how to enter upon a critical dis- cussion of the merits of Professor Curtiss work. The merits of different doctrinal systems, and relative excellence of reli- gioris forms of belief are not subjects which we feel called to discuss. The relationship of religious institutions, and senti- ments of action to the political life and structure of states is one which falls clearly within the province of a political maga. zine. That the internal policy, and external structure, and in- fluence of Baptist churches assimilates most nearly to iRepub- licanismthal, it is, in fact, a pure Republican form of Christ- ianity, it seems to us their history very clearly shows. At the basis of their system lies the .VOLUNTARY PRINCIPLE. The same principle underlies all Democratic Republicanism. A church, therefore, which ignores distinctions between men; which rejects hierarchies and aristocratic badges; which consists of a voluntary association of individuals, and denies the power or right of civil government to interfere with hu- man conscience in matters of religion, appears to us the most powerful ally of Democracy in civil government. Professor Curtis undertakes to show that this is the case with regard to Baptists and Baptist principles. He cites his authorities, and invites examination. As the fairest criticism upon his book we give a running synopsis of its contents and arguments, leaving to those who dissent the opportunity of examining for themselves to see if these things be so. Their principles, he says, embrace: 1. Freedom of Conscience, and the entire separation of Church and State. 2. A Converted Church Membership. 3. Sacraments inoperative without Choice and Faith. 1856.] The Proare& s of Bc& ptiet Prine~ple~. 161 4. Believers the only Scriptural Subjects of Baptism. 5. Immersion always the Baptism of the New Testament, Fines, fetters, and banishment alone appeared the suitable reward for such opinions. Now, on the contrary, it is the chief complaint of evangeli- cal Pedobaptists that the difference is so unimportant as not to justify Bap- tists in maintaining their peculiarities as a distinct denomination. 1REEDOM 01 CONSCIENcE, AND THE PERFECT SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE. Two points which, superficially viewed, may seem distinct, are here con- nected together, because they will be found to resolve themselves essentially into one great principle. The utmost distinction is, that the union of Church and State puts a premium upon one form of religion, while all other opposi- tion to freedom of conscience places a penalty upon another. But as ifl the former case the Church which is established receives a premium from the dissenter, its union with the State involves, in fact, a stigma, a penalty on all other forms of worship, and this being compulsory, is persecution. Free- dom of conscience can not be fully and fairly predicated where any penalty is attached to its exercise. Of the millions of all denominations in this country, who now enjoy so perfectly as we do the inestimable blessing of religious liberty, and of all those who throughout Europe and the world are advocating it in various de- grees, few are aware how much they are indebted for these views and en- j~yments to the Baptists; fewer still know that this indebtedness, such as it is, is not mere accident, but a necessary consequence of theiv distinctive peculiarities as a denomination. They may probably have learned from Bancroft that Roger Williams was the first Christian legislator who intro- duced perfect religious liberty into the constitution of any State, but are not aware, perhaps, that these views were advocated publicly in London by the Baptists, with great zeal, a few years before he came to this country. Or if prepared to go so far, they are probably ignorant that the advocacy of this spiritual freedom is to be traced in connection with Baptist sentiments, long before the time of Luther, among the Waldenses, and through such men as Arnold of Brescia, Peter de Bruis, and the Henricans, back probably to the Donatists, and the time of Constantine the Great. Arnold of Brescia about A.D. 1136-.57, maintained the same views, but with a greater vigor and immediate political effect and distinct- ness than any of his predecessors or cotemporaries. Liberty, Sacred and secular, was the greatobje.ct of his life. He produced an immense effect upon Europe and his age, and gave an impulse to those reforming move- ments in the Church of Rome that are distinctly traceable as the germs from which, four hundred years later, sprang the great Protestant Reforma- tion. As Dr. Brewster says: Insisting that the kingdo~i of~ God is not of this world, he maintained that the temporal power of the Church was an un- principled usurpation of the rights of princes, and that all the corruptions which disgraced the Christian faith, and all the animosities which distracted the Church, sprang from the overgrown possessions of the clergy. He commenced in his native city, but it was in Rome itself that the amazing power of this man and of his principles were chiefly successful. He restored the Roman Republic, and maintained it for ten years. Four Popes success- ively driven from the Eternal City, tried in vain to subdue him. At last when Frederick Barbarossa, hired for that purpose, had succeeded in cap- 162 f/ike Progre& ~ of Bapti8t Principles. [Feb., turing him, so fearful of his popularity were those in power, that having strangled him in prison, his body was burned and his ashes thrown into the Tiber, lest the people should idolize his beloved remains. There is an epitome of the faith of the Waldenses of the twelfth century, given by the Centuriators of Magdeburg, which does not say any thing about infant baptism one way or other, but asserts, the Pope hath not the pri- macy over all the Churches of Christ, neither hctth he the power of both swords. But another full confession of their faith of the same century (A.D. 1120) says: We hold in abhorence all human inventions, as proceeding from Antichrist, which produce distress and are prejudicial to the liberty of the mind. Enough this to show that from the time of Pope Sylvester, that is, from the time of Constantine, when he united the spiritual and temporal power, there is every reason to feel assured that there has been a hody of men who have opposed the whole of this, and have vigorously maintained freedom of conscience and the entire separation of Church and State. If we turn now to the history of this great principle since the Reforma- tion, the Mennonites must claim our first notice. At a time when all other denominations sought to establish themselves by alliances with the State, and too frequently by becoming the persecutors of their brethren, the Men. nonites, who sprang out of the Waldenses in 1536, contended for perfect liberty of conscience, and that the magistrates had no right to interfere with religious convictions. This opinion is founded on the one principle, which, as Mosheim justly remarks, is at the basis of all their peculiarities, that is, that the kingdom which Christ has established on earth is a visible society or company, in which is no place for any but holy or pious persons. Hence all connection with mere state institutions, where the terms of mem- bership must be different, they regarded as injurious. In this they have always persevered, and when about the year 1820, on the publication of the proofs of their ancient origin, by Professor Upeij and Dr. Dermont, they were offered government support by the King of the Netherlands, and recog- nition as a state religion, they declined the bounty on the ground that it was contrary to their oldest and most settled principles. Henry VIII. burned Papists and Baptists at the same stake to prove himself Defender of the Faith, and Cranmers hands were stained with the blood of pious women, while Queen Elizabeth re-lighted the fires of Smith- field, like her father, to burn Anabaptists and Catholics. King James re- solved to break the spirit of the Non-conformists if it would not bow, and caused them to quit the country in large numbers. J~ the reign of Charles I., Archbishop Laud ruled the Church with a rod of iron; fines, imprison- ments, cutting off the ears, branding in the face, and tortures of all kinds were inflicted. Nor did the Presbyterians, when they obtained the power, neglect using the authority of the state to persecute, as well as promote, in .their turn. In 1638, while Roger Williams was battling for freedom of conscience with Massachusetts, and nearly thirty years after their principles had been pub- licly avowed in London by the Baptists, we find the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Scotland interfering with the liberty of the press and the civil power in a manner never exceeded by Popery itself. They forbade all printers in the kingdom from printing or re-printing any con- fesssion of faith, or protestation, or reason pro or contra, in regard to reli- gious controversies, without warrant subscribed by the clerk to the As- sembly. in 1642, Roman Catholics were ordered to renounce their 1856.] like Progress of Baptist Principles. 163 obstinacy under penalty of banishment or imprisonment, as might seem fit. But in 1560, early in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the Baptists in Great Britain publicly wrote and published their protestations against all persecu- tion, for conscience sake. John Knox replied to one of these publications, in a Treatise called An answer to a great number of blasphemous Cavillations, written by an Ani~baptist and adversary of Gods eternal Predestination, and confuted by John Knox. Alluding to persecuting Christians, the Bap- tist had said: Be these I pray you, the sheep whom Christ hath sent forth in the midst of wolves; can the sheep persecute the wolf? Doth Abel kill Cain? Doth David, though he might, kill Saul? Doth he which is born after the spirit kill him that is born after the flesh ? To all this John Knox replies: I will not now so much labor to confute by my pen, as my full purpose is to lay the same to thy charge if I shall ap- prehend thee in any commonwealth where justice against blasphemers may be ministered as Gods word requireth. And hereof I give thee warning lest that after thou shalt complain that under the cloak of friendship I have deceived thee. Wert thou my natural brother, I durst not conceal thine ini- quity in this case. In 1610, we find John Robinson, the celelirated Puritan divine, the father of the Pilgrims, writing earnestly ir~ defense of the power of the magistrate to punish civilly, religious actions, he being the preserver of both tables~ and so to punish all branches of both. He is to by compulsion, repress public and notable idolatry, as also to provide that the truth of God in his ordinance be taught and published, and by some penalty to provoke his sub- jects universally unto hearing for their instruction and conversion; yea, to inflict the same upon them ~f after due teaching they offer not themselves unto the Church. Opposed to him was John Smyth, originally an Episcopal clergyman, of such superior abilities that Bishop Hall speaks even of John Robinson as no more than his shadow. He thinking it would be a great help and en- couragement to the Baptists in England for the exiles to return and openly avow their sentiments, put himself at the head of his brethren and returned with them as their pastor to London, in order as they declared that Christ might say to them, ministering to their persecuted brethren, I was in pri- son and ye visited me, in distress and ye comforted me. They deter- mined to challenge king and state to their faces, and not give way to them, no, not a foot. Thus they returned to their own country, there to vindi- cate the greet principles of moral and religious freedom. How much Eng- land, how much America, how much the whole world owes and will owe to this one great act of unsurpassed moral heroism, who can tell? John Robinson in Holland not only opposed the return of Mr. Smyth to England, but was still more opposed to his views of the right of Conscience. In 1614, he published an attack upon these, which led. to an extended con- troversy between him and Mr. Helwisse, Mr. Smyths successor. It will be evident thus far that the difference between the Baptists and all other Christian sects, at this time, was not one of degree, but of principle. It was not as to the measure of toleration, but of an inalienable eight to ab- stract liberty of conscience. About this time, or soon after, a Welsh lad was noticed by Sir Edward Coke on account of his manuscript notes of cases argued before the Star Chamber, and of Sermons. This great man, the promoter of liberty, became the patron, friend, and almost father of this lad, who in turn cherish- 164 The Progress of Bapti8t Princ~ple~. [Feb., ed an enthusiastic regard for the life and writings of his benefactor. Coke got him into one of the most famous public schools in Londonthe Charter Housewhere his abilities won him distinguished honors, and a pension for his support at the University. The name of this youth is still preserved at Jesus College, OxfordROGER WILLIAMS. It will ever be preserved in the records of the great statesmen of the world, of the great Lights of Religious Liberty, and above all of those whose names are written in heaven. It is wonderful, as Bancroft has said, with what distinctness Roger Williams deduced his inferences, the readiness with which he accepted every fair inference from his doctrines, and the circumspection with which he repelled every unjust imputation. Even Oliver Cromwell, Englands great Protector, and one less disposed to persecute than the Prelatists, or Puritans, of his day, developed not, in his whole course of government, one principle or practice of half the value of this to the world. Indeed, he claimed the right, as head of the State, to persecute Roman Catholics and Episcopalians, and even to examine every minister as to his call to preach. To the honor of first proclaiming religious freedom to the world by law, Archbishop Hughes has preferred this claim in behalf of the Roman Catho- lic proprietor of Maryland, Lord Baltimore. But with what prepQsterous injustice this claim is urged, let facts show. It is said that, as early as 1632, he had recognized a general religious toleration. But where is the proof of it in any authentic shape before 1648? Not in the Charter certain- ly, which contains no single hint of any toleration in religion not vouchsafed by the laws of England. But, on the other hand, places of worship, it is provided, are to be consecrated according to the ecclesiastical law of Eng- land, and all laws were to be so far as conveniently might be, consonant to the laws of England, which would, of course, have force until others were enacted. The most which can be pretended, therefore, is, that the desire and intention to extend this toleration resided in the breast. of Lord Balti- more, although he had not the power to give it the force of legal enact- ment. But we have seen that, so far as this was concerned, twenty-one years before this time, the Baptists in London had published to the world far more noble sentiments in favor of religious freedom. Roger Williams had probably uttered far higher principles two years before; and for centu- ries and centuries the Waldenses had protested against the Roman Catholic Church for her opposition to all these very principles, and had maintained the doctrine of religious freedom far more thoroughly and fairly than Lord Baltimore ever dreamed of. But it was not until 1649 that this toleration was duly enacted. In what way, then, can it be pretended that the Roman Catholic has precedence of the Baptist as to dates? In 1630, Roger Williams commenced to preach in favor of religious liberty; and in 1686, having purchased territory from the Indians, commenced to found a colony on the express principle of perfect religious liberty. In 1638, others having joined, and purchased the terri- tory of the present State of Rhode-Island, a voluntary government was for- mally instituted by a solemn covenant of all to submit to the orders of the major part in civil thin~vs only. Thus was a constitution formed on the ex- press basis of a perfect liberty of conscience. It is true that it was not until 1644 that Roger Williams obtained his Charter from the king. This was not sought, even then, because he deemed it necessary, but only expedient, as a means of preventing the encroachments of the colony of Massachusetts. This Charter was obtained, and solemnly accepted and adopted by the in- habitants, in 1647; and on the 10th of May, in that year, a body of laws 1856.] The Pro~re& s of Bc~ptist Princiyle~. was enacted, and the government further settled upon the principle of per- fect religious liberty. Even this last was about two years previous to any enactment in favor of toleration afterward established in Maryland. A more vital point, however, than one of dates remains to be considered. The very word toleration implies a right to persecute; and how far was immunity in this case to extend? When first, in 1649, it took the form of law, while allowing genera.l religious liberty to others, it denounced death, with forfeiture of goods, against all who should deny the Godhead of any of the three persons of the Trinity, and fine, whipping, and banishment, against all who should utter any reproachful words or speeches respecting the Virgin Mary, it was expressly declared that the Roman Catholic Church should have all its rights and privileges, and that, in particular, no Roman Catholic should be molested. In fact, it was a mere plan to include Papists in a religious liberty just broad enough to shield them from the persecutions of the Puritans, but no broader. Instead of equitable terms of citizenship, it would have put to death such men as Dr. Channing and Edward Everett; and even Robert Hall, for the opinions of his earlier years. These laws were never repealed, and only superseded a few years ago by the adoption of a new Constitution. They probably remain the law to this day in the Dis- trict of Columbia. Lord Baltimore was, indeed, no bigot, and far in advance of most of his own sect and age. But a claim like that put forth by Archbishop Hughes manifests a degree of effrontery rarely equalled. It will not be forgotten that just before the Revolution of 1688, James II. attempted a system of tolera- tion of exactly this very character, merely to smuggle in the Catholics, and throw England back again into the arms of the Catholic Church. The treachery was discovered, and James II. lost his throne soon gfter,none con- sidering religious liberty safe. Down to the period ~f the American Revolution, all the other colonies probably, except Rhode-Island and Pennsylvania, had more or less of an established Church, and therefore religious persecution. The above is a rapid sketch of the history of religious liberty, prior to the last hundred years. It was essentially a Baptist principle, derived by them, and by them alone, from their views of church-membership. It was first introduced by Roger Williams into the registered principles of actual states- inanship. In all this he was the precursor of Milton, and the superior of Oliver Cromwell and Jeremy Taylor. Bancroft has still further justly said: If Copernicus is held in perpetual reverence, because on his death-bed he published to the world that the sun is the centre of our systemif the name of Kepler is preserved in the annals of human excellence for his sagacity in detecting the laws of planetary motionif the genius of Newton has been almost adored for dissecting a ray of light, and weighing the heavenly bodies in a balance,. let there be for the name of Roger Williams at least some hum- ble place among those who have advanced moral science, and made them- selves the benefactors of mankind. What has given these United States such perfect religious liberty as all enjoy? Beyond all question, the successful working of the principles of a free conscience in Rhode-Island and Pennsylvania. Massachusetts beside the one and Virginia beside the other, fined, imprisoned, and maltreated in various ways, by law, for conscience7 sake. Yet it was not found to render the people more religious. On the contrary, it alienated the minds of some of the best citizens from each other and from the State, and two of the most orderly, religious, and pleasant cities to reside in, even to this day, are Pro- 166 fIi14e Progre8s of Bc~p~i8t Princiy7es. [Feb., vidence and Philadelphia, one being at the time of the Revolution the largest city of the Union, the other probably the wealthiest in proportion to its size. Hence, when a struggle came which called for the most perfect union and strength of every colony individually, and of the whole collectively, the only course was to discontinue every occasion of dissension and alienation, by allowing a perfect freedom of religious opinions. One immediate occasion of bringing all these principles into action was the persecution and estrangement produced by the Established religion in Virginia, preparing and uniting the public mind, to no small degree, in such a manner as to precipitate the American Revolution. The magistrates and aristocratic friends of the Established Church felt their danger, and imprisoned all the more zealous Baptist preachers on whom they could lay hands. This only raised their popularity with the common people, until at length it became a saying of their enemies, that it was useless to incarcerate the Baptists, as they would only preach more successfully from the prison-windows. At the beginning of the Revolutionary War all persecution for religious opinions was for ever blotted from the statute-books, and almost by the end of that struggle, the last vestige of the union of Church and State, or the compulsory support of religion, was, chiefly through the influence of the Baptists, abolished, in this the most populous and influential State of that time. Jefferson, who, though a free-thinker, had studied carefully the principles of the Baptists, took the lead, and carried them through. The first Continental Congress ever held was in 1774, in Philadelphia, two years before the Declaration of Independence. It had not been in ses- sion ten days before these committees, as representatives of the denomina- tion, memorialized Congress that they united with their country in defense of its privileges, and besought them to secure at once the recognition of the inalienalde rights of conscience. Committees were appointed, and the whole subject was discussed with much earnestness. Accordingly the Baptists memorialized the next session of the Massachu- setts Legislature, 1775. In doing so they said: Our real grievances are, that we, as well as our fathers, have from time to time been taxed on reli- gious accounts where we were not represented, and our causes have been tried by interested judges. For a civil Legislature to impose religious tares, 8, we ct?ncvive, a power which their constituents never had to give, and there- fore going entirely out of their jurisdiction. We are persuaded that an en- tire freedom from being taxed by civil rulers to religious worship is not a mere favor from any man or men in the world, but a right and property granted us by God, who commands us to stand fast in it. We should wrong our consciences by allowing that power to men which we believe belongs only to God. By the time of the close of the war of Independence, the principles of re- ligious liberty had become almost nationaL In 1787 the act for the govern- ment of the North-west Territory provided that no person should ever be molested on account of his mode of worship or religious sentiment in the said Territory. Nothing, however, had been done by Congress to secure religious liberty elsewhere. In August~ 1789, therefore, a Committee of the Baptist Churches in Virginia presented an address to General Washing- ton wherein they expressed a high regard for him, but a fear that our re- ligious rights were not well secured in our new constitution of government. In answer to this he assured them of his readiness to use his influence to wake these rights indisputable, declaring that the religious society of which 1856.] .Tke Progres8 of Baptist Princ~ples. 167 they were members had been throughout America uniformly the perse- vering promoters of the glorious Revolution. In the following month, accordingly, an amendment to the Constitution was passed, declaring that Congress should make no law respecting any establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. This Professor Curtis claims to be the true history of the steps by which the right to worship God according to the dic- tates of our own consciences was secured to American citizens. He claims it as the distinctive honor of his denomination, that they led always in the work. He very frankly and fairly accords to other denominations all the merit of their good acts in this direction, but he claims for his own the distinction of having been the standard-bearer in the war waged from the days of Constantine the Great to the days of iRoger Williams. If this be trueand his historical references are before the public and open to controversy if not exacthe appears to show that the cardinal principles of Democratic Republicanism have sustained his people against Popes, Emperors, Councils, and Consistories, and at last found their full religious development in the United States, as a rule of relationship between civil and religious affairs; and their political development in the principles of Thomas Jefferson and Andrew Jackson. It is a bold claim at any rate; and if substantiated, the most glorious one ever made by a Christian Church. 168 chron,icle of the Afonth. [Feb., CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. FOREIG2~r. ENGLAND.That dear Bull, or rather that dear Bulls Headthe Imperial Government of Great Britain, Canada, the East-Indies and Southern Sebas- topol, does not appear to have committed any more than its usual amount of betises duxing the month of January. England reminds us of the man who was born of a Sunday, and of all the mishaps in the world, of a Sunday which fell on the 29th day of February, which being bissextile, the poor fellows birth-day came only once in four years, and so he never came of age until he was eighty-four. She is always four years behind the age, and pottering and drivelling away at some old fogy, old-world nonsense which has been, full three of those years, exploded in every other quarter of the globe. Father Miller himself could not hurry up her millennium. She would sink, and bury herself in the salt ooze around her foggy little island, with all the ascension robes of all his disciples, male and female, made into a balloon to bear her up. ... Just think of it. We were flooded with lies on this side of the herring-pond gross as the hither who begat them sd est, the London Timesabout Russia.and the Czar. Russia was used up, Russia was bankrupt; her population decimated; trade stopped; peo- ple starving; Czar going crazy; nobility disaffected; serfs rebelliousevery thing in Russia was in fact gone quite to the dogsand nothing kept her from being knocked into pi, or falling all apart into little bits, but the winter and the ice. Soon as spring came, and a great thawthat was the last of her. So the London Times said. So veracious members of Parliament said. So some body said Mr. Gladstone said that Cupid Palmerston said; but who he said it to no body said. Yankeedom grew somewhat fatigued with this standing joke of the gentlemen about St. Jamess, and Printing-House Square, and Downing street, and rather guessed it would be a leetle more satisfactory to have the evidence of a pair or so of Yankee eyes, or Yankee ears, before the universal Yankee nation accepted the whole thing as gospel. So Col. T. P. Shaffner ran over to take a look at matters and things in Rus- sia; and when he got there it fell out that for the life of him he could not discover a single thing of all the things veraciously reported by the London press. Tout au contraireno body seemed a bit disturbed, or frightened, at the redoubtable Englishmen, who didnt carry the Malakofi. The Czar was very well in his mind, and ate with an appetite. The nobles were not turned to ninepences. The serfs were eager to go and play soldier. Every body had more money than they knew what to do with; and no body

168 chron,icle of the Afonth. [Feb., CHRONICLE OF THE MONTH. FOREIG2~r. ENGLAND.That dear Bull, or rather that dear Bulls Headthe Imperial Government of Great Britain, Canada, the East-Indies and Southern Sebas- topol, does not appear to have committed any more than its usual amount of betises duxing the month of January. England reminds us of the man who was born of a Sunday, and of all the mishaps in the world, of a Sunday which fell on the 29th day of February, which being bissextile, the poor fellows birth-day came only once in four years, and so he never came of age until he was eighty-four. She is always four years behind the age, and pottering and drivelling away at some old fogy, old-world nonsense which has been, full three of those years, exploded in every other quarter of the globe. Father Miller himself could not hurry up her millennium. She would sink, and bury herself in the salt ooze around her foggy little island, with all the ascension robes of all his disciples, male and female, made into a balloon to bear her up. ... Just think of it. We were flooded with lies on this side of the herring-pond gross as the hither who begat them sd est, the London Timesabout Russia.and the Czar. Russia was used up, Russia was bankrupt; her population decimated; trade stopped; peo- ple starving; Czar going crazy; nobility disaffected; serfs rebelliousevery thing in Russia was in fact gone quite to the dogsand nothing kept her from being knocked into pi, or falling all apart into little bits, but the winter and the ice. Soon as spring came, and a great thawthat was the last of her. So the London Times said. So veracious members of Parliament said. So some body said Mr. Gladstone said that Cupid Palmerston said; but who he said it to no body said. Yankeedom grew somewhat fatigued with this standing joke of the gentlemen about St. Jamess, and Printing-House Square, and Downing street, and rather guessed it would be a leetle more satisfactory to have the evidence of a pair or so of Yankee eyes, or Yankee ears, before the universal Yankee nation accepted the whole thing as gospel. So Col. T. P. Shaffner ran over to take a look at matters and things in Rus- sia; and when he got there it fell out that for the life of him he could not discover a single thing of all the things veraciously reported by the London press. Tout au contraireno body seemed a bit disturbed, or frightened, at the redoubtable Englishmen, who didnt carry the Malakofi. The Czar was very well in his mind, and ate with an appetite. The nobles were not turned to ninepences. The serfs were eager to go and play soldier. Every body had more money than they knew what to do with; and no body 1856.] Chronicle of the Ilfontk. 169 cared whether it thawed or not. The Colonel came right home and let the cat out of the bag. Wicked Colonel, to do such a thing, and nearly split the Thunderers sides with cursing, and Yankeedoms with laughing. Col. T. P. Shaffner, you are a bad fellow. Why couldnt you leave John Bull quiet in his conceit? It didnt hurt you, did it? We all knew what fan- tastical fibs he was telling; but we knew why he did it. It was to salve his conscience and his pride for taking to his heels, down in the Crimea there, and leaving poor Jean Crapaud to get all the glory and bard knocks. Just see the mischief you have been and gone and done, sir. And have a sharp eye for yourself too, sir., You have waked up the Thunderer. He is enrage.~~ He foams at the mouth. Dont let him catch you on his cellar-door; or playing chanies in his area, my military friend, unless your back is covered with Russia leather. Just listen to him a minute, and you will see what sort of fun you have to expect from him. Quoth the aroused Titan: Ferdinand Mendez Pinto was a weakling by the side of Gel. Tat P. Shaffner. It is a pity that his account or the Russian empire has not been accompanied by a full-length portrait of the illustrious traveller., We should have liked to see the very figure of that keen and sallow Yankee as he actually crouched in the full filth of a Russian hut, and, while he assiduously whittled away at some convenient piece of timber, resolved with himself the best means of pouring a roseate splen dor over that uncomfortable scene. How far he has succeeded it must be for his readers to decide. If our Colonel does not send Boanerges a lock of his hair, as a small mark of his kind regards, he shall never more be officer of ours. Of course, a Yankees coloring Russia red, bleaches the stain of defeat from the cheek of Brittania. Of course, a Yankees spitting tobacco-juice, takes off all that is foolish from the Thunderers spitting its harmless venom against the walls of Cronstadt and North-Sebastopot Of course, a Yankees whit- tling a shingle supersedes the necessity of Englands retrieving her lost honor by cutting through the war-like host of Holy Russia. Certainly a full-length portrait of Col. Shaffner would be a prettier sight, than the poor daub of war she has hung up this time, in her national gallery! Send the picture by all means, Colonel. But with superior cruelty, and to add that last straw, beneath which the camels back gives way, Colonel Robertsanother Yankee colonela real colonela fire-eating colonel, who led, if we mistake not, the most des- perate storming party of modern times over the ramparts of Chepultepec sits down and quietly points out all uncle Johns ridiculous blunders in the Crimea. And our second colonel talks to them Yankee fashion. Where, he asks, Where were the British reserves, that should have been launched as a thun- derbolt upon the Redan when Cot Wyndhams stormers had gained the curtain and effected an escalade? He was one hour and three quarters in the works of the Jiedan, and three times sent for support. Where was the General commanding at this crisis? When these stormers were driven back, the British army became a 12 [Feb., 170 Chronicle of tke JLlicrnth. forlorn hopeits commander the leader. The duty of every Englishman was then to save Englands glory, or to fill an English soldiers grave. But not even half of the stormers wero killed or disabled! Their General reports them as retreatin,~,! Great God! what a confession from an English general! Stormers retreat! Storm- ers dead bodies may fill the ditches and heap the breaches over which the reserves may rush to the citadel. This is the inexorable law of war I To retreat is the stormers act of outlawry, and an armys disgrace. The five hundred Spartans who defended the pass of Thermopyke, eternalized a nations name. All but one made it their sepulchrethat one was disowned by the Spartan mother! Yet England, claiming to be the Mother of Heroes, praises Eng- lishmen who retreated from the Itedan! The English mother has t~een prostituted by this revolting alliance with polygamous Turkey; and the unnatural embrace has adulterated Anglo-Saxon blood. Spartan valor has been the talisman of the brave since Thermopyke was immortalized. The retreat from the Redan has not Spar. tanized English fame, or Thermopylized that pass into SebastopoL Softly, Colonel, softly! You are not talking to great two-fisted, six.foot, dare.devil Yankees, who would poke their heads into Tophet to see whether Satan burned anthracite or butiminous coaL Nothing of the sort. You are talking to an inferior race; men caned and padded into soldiers; poor fellows crimped from parish work.houses, and inveigled away from tailors shop- boards, and man.millineries. The race of English soldiers is extinct. Red tape and elder sons of Lords, Rich in some dozen paltry villages Only great in that strange spella name! have murdered them all on useless battle-fields by incompetent leading! The heart of England is a good, frank, honest heart. Real Englishmen are noble, downrighL, true men. They are brave by instinct. We love the race. We believe in it, and honor it. God has honored it and blessed it. But England does not belong to Englishmen now-a-days. It is pawned to my Lord Tom Noddy, the Earls son. It is bound by the Delilah of Aristo- cracy, and shorn of the glory of its strong locks, handed over naked to its enemies. God forbid that any word of ours should pain one honest English heart of all the throbbing thousands that would shed their dearest blood for mans redemption from that hideous night-mare of caste and privilege, beneath the banner of a second Cromwell I When shall such a hero live again? No, Colonel, we have no fault to find with the English people, save only with their too patient submission and long suffering. They are com- petent to better things. Why will they not find it out? Take your banner, and, beneath The war-clouds encircling wreath, Guard it till your homes are free: Guard itGod will prosper ye! Break the fetters of red-tape which bind you. Prove yourselves the men of the same temper as those Who planted English freedom on American soil. Carry English honesty, and faith, and frankness into English government and we Americans have hearts to throb with sympathy and love for all you do, or dare, or suffer. Do it soon too; for your government of aristocracy, 1856.] Chronicle of the iJiouth. 171 animated by an insane hatred of every thing which bears the image and su- perscription of Freedom, isfast hurrying you into a conflict with these States. They are backing and filling, and playing or attempting to play upon us, their tortuous game of diplomatic thimble-rigging. Stop them whilst you may. Take the matter into English hands. Take it from the dear cousins of every two-penny German Highness and Princewhose dominions would not make a respectable mud-flat in the Mississippi; and compel the sentiment of Englands heart to be uttered by the voice of Englands serv- ants. They are false to you. They are scheming to entangle you, and sow bitterness and hatred between men of the same stock and interest. Gov- ern your governors while it is well with you. We can not either of us afford to make the match. War is ruin to us both. But, if we must go into the ringremember it will be for the championship this time; and the belt which England might lose to America to-day, no future battle could retrieve. Our expansion into greatness is dailyour limits boundless. The old age of a people circumscribed, and bound in straitly by narrow geogra- phical limits, can not be pitted, without madness, against the youth of one whose reach stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the land of ice and snow to the gardens of the tropics! The fortune of. a single war may strike the hour of Englands decadencean hundred wars could not stay the march of America. She might lose battles, and ships, and men and money.she has plenty to lose. She can afford to lose them in a good cause. Can England? Let the Crimeas thousand shallow graves give answer. And for the state of England generally, let our dear friend and ally, the London Times, tell its story: The great British nation is beginning, at last, to be conscious not only of some natural deficiencies, but even a temporary obscuration of its powers. We have some good painters, though even they are finding their matches abroad; but for the restlet us see I We want a Heaven-sent General, [a slur upon General Simp- son.] We want a poet, [a fling at Tennyson.] We want a good historiannot a brilliant essayist, [a sneer at Macaulay,] but a man who can write a compendious and classical history of England, or any other history. We want some endurable sermons, [a sarcasm launched at the whole body of the British clergy.] If the pulpit just now has no luminaries to mention, on the other hand the stage is not in its palmiest state. There died lately in great distress a man who could compose some original airs; but this moment it can not be pretended that we have a single composer of extraordinary genius. Going lower, into those homely regions where Prince Albert loves to succor and elevate the soul of British artin furniture, paper-hangings, iron-work, china, and almost every thing that contributes to the decoration of our houses, we are still beaten by foreigners. Apropos of Birming- ham, within these few years two splendid mansions have been built in Piccadilly, by millionaires, both with costly iron railingsthe one, however from abroad, the other evidently from some home foundry. The foreign railing is a work of art, the other is an iron railing and no more. Q. E. D. Upon which showing, being naturally enough disgusted with the state of that people; we will take the boat for Calais, or Boulogne, and cross over to Ia Belle FaA~cEwhose Emperor, like a famous French king who went before Chronicle of the JiLonth. 172 [Feb., him, having marched forty thousand men first up the hill, then down again, in the slightly inaccurate expectation that Gen. Simpson would follow him to the top, and help him to a peep at the inside of holy Russia, begins to get a little grouty. Wise folk say that rather too much Cayenne has mingled with the enteinte cordiale soup, which the allied powers have been so lovingly eating with the same spoon; and that, like the Indian who got the mustard up his nose, his Imperial Highness begins to think of his uncle and weep. It is whispered that a French Emperor, elected by the people, is as little loved by English gentlemen, whose forbears were inscribed on Battle Abbey roll, as an American President is. Let us wait a little and see. We do not think the world would be much the worse for some plain talking between those high contracting powers. When the rogues fall out some honest Italians, and Poles, and Hungarians may, per- haps, come by their own. Which probable misunderstanding brings us, of course, to the place about which no body seems to understand any thing at all, that is, to NIcARAGUA.TO promote a better knowledge whereog we shall offer, in the first place, the following description of the country, which we have ob- tained at no end of expense and trouble, from a very dear friend of ours, and great traveller, the Count IDe Sissers: On the west it is washed by the Pacific Ocean, and partly on the east by the waters of the Caribbean Sea, the Mosquito Territory forming a large share of its eastern boundary. Honduras borders it on the north, and Costa Rica on the south. Its area is about forty-nine thousand square miles, and the population is estimated at two hundred and forty-seven thousand. The females are said to greatly exceed the males ia number. Not more than twenty thousand of the people are whites, the rest being negroes, Indians, and mixed races. Most of t~he population live in towns, many of them going several miles daily to labor in the fields. The planta- tions are scattered pretty equally over the country, and are reached by paths so obscure as to almost escape the notice of travellers, who are thus liable to fall into the error of supposing that the country is almost uninhabited. The dwellings of the people are usually of canes, thatched with palm, although the better classes construct their residences of adobes, (sun-dried brick,) and by the help of fruit and shade trees, planted in the court-yard, render many of them exceedingly pleasant. A range of mountains extends along the west coast of the State, at a distance of a few miles from the sea, but attaining no great elevation until they approach the con- fines of Costa Ricar when they reach the height of five to eleven thousand feet. In the central part of the State is an immense level tract, known as the plains of Ni- caragua, comprising in its area the lake of that name. Numerous volcanoes exist alone the Pacific coast. There are a considerable number of rivers, but none of them, except the San Juan, are navigable in a commercial sense. Veins of copper and silver ore of exceeding richness are found in many parts, but they remain almost all of them either unexplored or only superficially worked. Gold, also, is said to exist. The climate is healthy, though various. In the interior and mountainous parts the temperature is more dry and cool than on the coast, where it is hot and approaching to humid. The greater portion of the State consist of plains and gen- tie siopes formed of a rich black loam, of which but a small portion is made avail- able. The productions are indigo, sugar, coffee, cotton of superior quality, corn, rice, wheat, etc., besides oranges, lemons, and fruits of various kinds. The great ISoG.] GLonicie of tke iJfontlt. 1~3 bane of the country has been its civil wars, and it was one of these which enabled Ccl. Walker to achieve his almost bloodless conquest. Not a bad bonne bouche, as may be seen, for a hungry gentleman; and many hungry gentlemen who, having spent their substance in riotous liv- ing, prefer tortillas, frijioles, roast lamb, and pretty women to the hu~ks which swine do eat. It is a pity that good faith has compelled our Government to delay the adventurous youths who, under the patronage of Col. Parker H. French, are so anxious to enter in and possess the~land. Let them, however, possess their souls in patience. Unless the Cabinet of St. James acts with better faith than has heretofore distinguished them in re- gard to Central American affairs, the embargo may not be of long duration. And all this being intimately connected with our DOME S TIC concerns, we turn our eyes with great pleasure homewards. Here two sub- jects have engrossed the attention of all for the past month. The organization of Congress, and the Presidents Message. If the latter had not happily come before the former, we should hav& to go to press again ignorant of its contents, as the types will not wait for the patriotic gentlemen at Washing- ton to finish their triangular dueL The message is clear, able, and to the point. It has the additional merit of being short enough to read in an ordinary life-time, a peculiarity many similar documents can not boast of. The Message was sent in on the 31st of December. The opposition press made some little noise, as was to be expected, over this departure from cus- tom; but the President, we think, very properly decided that custom and the Constitution were two very different things; and that no constitutional provision enjoining upon him to wait the election of a Speaker by the House of Representatives, and a constitutional provision very strictly enjoining the duty of communicating, from time to time, to that formerly respectable body, whatever important information, touching the welfare of the country, he might have to conveyit was clearly his right to choose his own time, cus- tom or no custom. He repudiates the English construction of the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty, as purely absurda conclusion in which all sane men agree with himour equitable friend, John Bull, simply claiming the right to keep all he has and get all he can; and politely requesting the United States to content them- selves with the little end of nothing whittled small. By the terms of the treaty it was stipulated that neither power should colonize or acquire do- minion, or exert a protectorate over Central America. Great Britain inter- prets this to mean, that she shall colonize, acquire, and control; aRd the United States shall not. This her Majestys ministers call a fair division. It reminds us of the equal division which Mrs. OFlaherty made of the house with Mr. OFlaherty. She kept the inside, and gave him the out. On the attempt to enlist Americans in foreign services, the Message says, 174 Chronicle of the illonth. [Feb., that proper steps have been taken to prevent such violation of ourneutrality; and that Great Britain, on our remonstrances has asserted that she has given stringent instructions against it to her agents. Quien SabeShe did the same in 1812if her ministers were to be believed; but Free Trade and Sailors rights had to be enforced after all by the remonstrances of shot and shell, and the stringent instructions of Yankee rifles. Perhaps she has better sense now. We are not quite sure of it, however. On the Danish Sound Dues the message is fifty-four forty or fight. The American people may be found in the same latitude. On the Spanish difficulties it is not qiiite so clear, and scarcely as belli- gerent as circumstances warrant. The President has reason t~ believe that Spain means to do what is right; to pay up the indemnities due for outrages to our flag; to afford increased mercantile facilities; and behave pretty generally. We wish we believed half as much; but we dont. Spain is a worn-out bully; and very little is to be got out of that sort of character by soft sawder. When she must, she will; and not sooner. The balance on hand at the beginning of the present fiscal year, was $lS,931,976a very natural result of Democratic rule. The Democracy always have ~ balance on hand. Whenever the people go crazy, and turn them out for four years, their opponents take such excellent pains to get rid of their legacy, that the said people are compelled to clap them back in a hurry to save the pieces, and prevent national bankruptcy. How the said people can be stupid enough ever to make such a mistake, as to give any set of political swindlers the chance of squandering what Democratic admin- istration~ lay up for them, is one of the mysteries in psychology we have never fathomed. About Kansas it tells a little plain truth, namely, that there is no danger therethat the federal executive has seen no just cause for its interference-.-- that the people are able to govern themselves; and all the noise of the opposition a mere concert of dogs baying the moon. The message winds up with a manly and open declaration of State rights; and a concise statement of the position of the President and the Democratic party in opposition to all unconstitutional interference with them. Take it altogether, it is a document honorable to its author, and entirely satisfactory to the national Demoeracy both North and South. Its universal d