THE

AMERICAN

QUARTERLY REVIEW.

No. XVIII.

JUNE, 1831.

Philadelphia:
CAREY & LEA.

SOLD IN PHILADELPHIA BY E. L. CAREY & A. HART.
NEW-YORK, BY G. & C. & H. CARVILL.

LONDON:—R. J. KENNETT, 59 GREAT QUEEN STREET.
PARIS:—A. & W. GALIGNANI, RUE VIVIENNE.

Art. I.—College-Instruction and Discipline
Art. II.—The Life and Times of His late
Majesty, George the Fourth
Art. III.—Essay on the Hieroglyphic
System
Art. IV.—Iron
Art. V.—The Siamese Twins
Art. VI.—Europe and America
Art. VII.—Webster’s Speeches and Forensic
Arguments
Art. VIII.—Poland
Art. IX.—History of Maryland
Art. X.—Peale’s Notes on Italy
Index—Volumes 1 and 2

[Pg 283]

AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW.

No. XVIII.

JUNE, 1831.

Art. I.—COLLEGE-INSTRUCTION AND
DISCIPLINE.

The subject of practical education has always been one of
intense interest with every reflecting individual in this Union. It is a
universally received axiom, that the foundation of a republic must be in
the information of its people; and that whilst the monarchical
governments of other countries may be successfully [Pg
284]administered by an oligarchy of intelligence, a
government like our own cannot be carried on without an extensive
diffusion of knowledge amongst those who have to select its very
machinery. The political circumstances of a country will also modify,
most importantly, the course of instruction; and that system which is
adopted in the old Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, and Dublin, in a
nation in which the law of primogeniture exists, where wealth is
entailed in families, and where the colleges themselves are richly
endowed, may be impracticable or impolitic in a country not possessing
such incentives. Education must, therefore, be suited to the country;
and a long period must elapse before we can expect to have individuals
as well educated as in those universities, although the mass of our
community may be much more enlightened. We have no benefices, no
fellowships with fixed stipends, to offer for those who may devote
themselves to the profound study of certain subjects. In England and
Ireland, it is by no means uncommon for a student to remain at college
until he is twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, in the acquisition
of his preliminary education, or of those branches that are made to
precede a professional course of study—the whole period of his
academic residence being consumed in the study of these departments. In
this country, such a course would be as unadvisable as it is generally
impracticable. The equal division of property precludes any extensive
accumulation of wealth in families. The youth are compelled to launch
early into life: the more useful subjects of study have to be selected,
and the remainder are postponed as luxuries, to be acquired should
opportunity admit of indulgence.

In no country are the colleges or higher schools so numerous, in
proportion to the population, as in the United States.

In France there are three universities; in Italy, eight; in Great
Britain, eight; in Germany, twenty-two; and in Russia, seven: whilst in
the United States, we have thirteen institutions bearing the title of
universities, and thirty-three that of colleges; making in all forty-six
higher schools capable of conferring degrees: yet a very wrong inference
would be drawn, were we to affirm that the education of a nation is
always in a direct ratio with the number of its higher schools. Such
would be the fact, did these institutions assume an elevated standard in
the distribution of their highest honours, and were the condition of the
intermediate schools such that the youth could be sent to the university
so prepared as to be able to cultivate his studies there to the greatest
advantage. Unfortunately, in many parts of the United States the
condition of the intermediate schools and academics has been grievously
neglected; and the authorities of the universities have been compelled
to lower their standard, and to admit students totally unprepared for
[Pg
285]more advanced studies. In this way many of the higher
schools have degenerated into mere gymnasia, or ordinary academies. This
circumstance, with the multiplication of institutions capable of
conferring degrees, has been attended with the additional evil, that, in
some, the highest honours have been, and are conferred for acquirements,
which would scarcely enable the possessors to enter the lowest classes
in others.

It seems, indeed, that the real or fancied insufficiency of most of
our existing institutions, gave occasion to the proposition for
establishing a university in New-York, and to the Convention, a review
of whose proceedings will enable us to offer some practical
considerations and reflections, deduced from some experience and
meditation on this momentous subject. “Much as our country,” observes
the Rev. Dr. Mathews, in his opening address in behalf of the committee of the
university, “owes to her excellent colleges, the sentiment seems to be
general, that the time has arrived when she calls for something more;
when she requires institutions which shall give increased maturity to
her literature, and also an enlarged diffusion to the blessings of
education, and which she may present to the world as maintaining an
honourable competition with the universities of Europe.” p. 14.

The establishment of a university in the city of New-York having been
determined upon, and “an amount of means” pledged to the object, which
would place the institution at its commencement on a liberal footing,
its friends, “believing it to be desirable, and that it would prove
highly gratifying to all who feel an interest in the important subject
of education, that a meeting should be convened of literary and
scientific men of our country, to confer on the general interests of
letters and liberal education,” appointed a committee, with powers to
invite, as far as practicable, the attendance of such individuals in behalf of the
university. Accordingly, on the 20th of October last, a number of
literary and scientific gentlemen assembled from various parts of the
United States, when President Bates, of Middlebury College, Vermont, was
appointed president of the convention; and the Honourable Albert
Gallatin, and Walter Bowne, Esq. Mayor of the City, were named vice
presidents. The convention sat daily until the 23d inclusive, when it
adjourned sine die; but not without having provided for the
perpetuation of its species at a future period.

In an assemblage so constituted, it was not to be expected that,
excepting the notoriety occasioned by it, any great advantage could
accrue to the university or to the public from its deliberations; the
most discordant sentiments on almost all points of discipline and
instruction;—the views of the experienced and
inexperienced—the experientia vera, and the experientia
falsa—of [Pg 286]the contemplative and the visionary,
were to be anticipated; but we must confess, that humble as were our
expectations from the results of its labours, the published record of
its proceedings proves that we had pitched them too high. The committee
appear to us to have had no definite object—no system—in
bringing many of the subjects before the convention; every discussion is
arrested, without our being able to decide what was the conclusion at
which the meeting arrived: and

Of these debates the “Journal” is, doubtless, a faithful record, so
far as regards their succession; the brevity, however, of the minutes,
published by the secretary, renders the work very unsatisfactory; and
scarcely elevates it above the character of a log-book, if we make
exception of one or two excellent addresses—such as that of Mr.
Gallatin—which are reported at length; and of some (generally
indifferent) communications transmitted by their authors.

The first topic presented for the consideration of the convention,
was:—”As to the universities of Europe; and how far the systems
pursued in them may be desirable for similar institutions in this
country.” On this subject, Dr. Lieber read a communication of
interest in relation to the organization, courses of study and
discipline of the German universities, which was referred to the
committee of arrangements. Mr. Woolsey, of New-York, gave an account of
the French colleges; their system of instruction and discipline; a few
desultory observations are next made by Mr. W. C. Woodbridge. Mr. Hasler
flies off at a tangent, and offers “a few remarks on the appointment of
professors,” and is followed by Professor Silliman on the same subject.
Mr. Sparks presents a few observations and alludes to the organization
of Harvard College. President Bates gives the plan of choosing
professors adopted at the college over which he is placed; and Mr.
Keating, of Philadelphia, puts a finale to the proceedings of the
day and to the question at the same time, by the expression of his
views. After this, we hear no more of this “topic,” and we are left in
the dark whether the system or any part of the system of the
universities of Europe be desirable for similar institutions in this
country.

It is a mere truism to remark, that the success of an institution
must be greatly dependent upon the character of its professors; hence,
in all universities, the best mode of selecting them has been a point of
earnest and careful inquiry. In some countries, they are appointed by
the government; in others, the office is obtained au concours.
The candidates being required to defend theses of their own composition,
and the most successful [Pg 287]receiving the office; whilst in others,
the faculty have the power of supplying vacancies in their own body. In
our own country, no uniformity exists on this point. Harvard, by the
scheme of organization, is under the supervision and control of two
separate boards, called the Corporation, and Board of
Overseers. The former is composed of seven persons, of whom the
president of the college is one, by virtue of his office; the other six
being chosen from the community at large. The board of overseers
consists of the governor and lieutenant-governor of the state, the
members of the council and of the senate, the speaker of the house of
representatives, and the president of the college ex-officio;
and, also, of fifteen laymen and fifteen clergymen, who are elected, as
vacancies occur, by the whole board. This board has a controlling power,
which, however, is rarely exerted over the acts of the corporation.

The professors are all chosen, in the first instance, by the
corporation, or rather nominated for the approval or rejection of the
board of overseers: “but as a case has rarely, if ever been known, in
which such a nomination has been rejected by the overseers, the election
of all the professors and immediate officers, may be said to pertain in
practice to the corporation alone. It is probable, however, that this is
seldom done without consulting the members of the faculty into which a
professor is to be chosen.” Journal, p. 82.

In the generality of our institutions, the appointing power is vested
in a board of trustees, who have no controlling body placed over them.
In almost all, however, we find from the Journal of the
Convention—that the faculty are consulted—”that” according
to Dr. Bates, “experience had proved the wisdom of consulting the
faculty on any contemplated appointment of a professor; and that, in
fact, though not professedly, yet in effect, professors are appointed by
the instructers or faculty,—and thus by securing their good will
towards the new incumbent, amity was enforced.” P. 83.

The great difficulty exists in becoming acquainted with the
qualifications of the candidate, especially if he has not been
previously engaged in teaching. There can be no better mode of testing
the capacity of a teacher, than in the class room; but if this be not
available, the recommendation of sufficient individuals, with us,
has always to be taken; and in this, a certain degree of risk must
necessarily be incurred. It is never, however, a matter of so much
moment to procure a professor, who is pre-eminently informed upon the
subject of his department, as one that is capable of communicating the
knowledge he possesses, is systematic, has a mind that can enable him to
improve and to take part as a member of the faculty in the management of
the university, in which the greatest firmness, good sense, and ability
are occasionally [Pg 288]demanded. “A man,” says the illustrious
Jefferson, “is not qualified for a professor, knowing nothing but merely
his own profession. He should be otherwise well educated as to the
sciences generally; able to converse understandingly with the scientific
men with whom he is associated, and to assist in the councils of the
faculty on any subject of science in which they may have occasion to
deliberate. Without this he will incur their contempt and bring
disreputation on the institution.”^[1]

Young professors are, on the above accounts, cæteris paribus,
preferable to old. They have not had time to acquire any bad system; are
energetic in the acquisition of information, and become attached to the
occupation. In institutions where the faculty live within the same
walls, it is, likewise, important that the disposition of the individual
should be taken into the account, in order that every thing may go on
harmoniously. A kind, conciliating deportment, will also gain the
respect of the student, and tend materially to discipline.

The best system for the appointment of professors, perhaps, would
be—that the faculty should nominate, and the trustees approve or
reject. It is improbable, that they would ever be guided by any feelings
which would be counter to the prosperity of the institution; whilst they
would generally have better opportunities of becoming acquainted with
the qualifications of individuals than the board of trustees. This
course appears to us less objectionable than any other; and we are glad
to find that it was suggested by Mr. Sparks, in the
convention.—

“No good policy,” he remarks, “would introduce an
efficient member into a small body, where such a step would be likely to
endanger the harmony of feeling and action. For this reason, it may be
well worthy of consideration, whether, in the scheme of a new
constitution, it is not better to provide for the nomination of a
professor by the members of the faculty, with whom he is to be
associated. Such a body would be as capable as any other, to say the
least, of judging in regard to the requisite qualifications of a
candidate, and much more capable of deciding whether his personal
qualities, traits of character, and habits of thinking, would make him
acceptable in their community. It seems evident, therefore, that
something is lost and nothing gained by referring this nomination to
another body of men, who have no interest in common with the party
chiefly concerned. It is enough that the electing or sanctioning power
dwells in a separate tribunal.” P. 83.

Much diversity of opinion has prevailed on the subject of
remuneration to professors. In some universities they are paid entirely
by fees from the students. The objection urged against this, is, that
the professor is too much dependent upon the student, and that this
feeling may materially interfere with discipline. To those who consider
that there ought to be no discipline in our universities—and
strange as it may seem, such views were expressed in the
convention—this plan of remuneration can be liable to no
objection. Nor to institutions in which there [Pg 289]are no resident pupils,
like the one proposed in New-York, would the objection apply. On the
contrary, the mode in which the professor receives his remuneration
entirely from the students, the stimulus which is thus excited, and the
feeling that his emoluments may be proportionate to his energy and
success in conveying instruction, may have the most beneficial effect
upon his exertions. Accordingly, we find the most meritorious
application on the part of the professors in our great medical schools;
and a degree of enthusiasm aroused, which might not be elicited were the
mode of recompensing them other than it is.

On the other hand, it has been maintained, that the professor should
be in no wise dependent upon the student; that he should receive no
fees, but be paid by a fixed salary. The objection urged against this
system is, that there is here no stimulus, and that as the professor
feels his income altogether independent of his exertions, he will relax
in his efforts, neglect his duties, become inattentive to his own
improvement, and uncourteous in his behaviour to the pupil. This is
plausible in theory, and doubtless, has occasionally been found to be
the fact. It is not likely to occur, however, if the professor be held
rigidly responsible, and if the tenure of his office be on good
behaviour, instead of for life. It is to be calculated, likewise, that
every professor is a gentleman, and that the honour of the situation is
a part of the emolument. These should be a sufficient guarantee that his
duties will be performed energetically, and that his behaviour will be
courteous. Should this not be the case, he is unfit for his situation,
and the trustees should have moral courage enough to remove him.
Experience, too, has, we think, sufficiently proved, that the evils of
fixed salaries, under the tenure dum bene se gesserit, are more
imaginary than real: some of the very best institutions are conducted
upon this system, in various parts of Europe and of this country. On the
whole, perhaps, where the students reside within the precincts, a
combination of a fixed salary, of a sufficient amount to enable the
professor to be, to a certain extent, independent of the student, with
the payment of a fee from the student for tuition, is the most politic
and satisfactory mode of remuneration. In this manner, he receives a
certain stimulus to exertion, whilst other objections to both exclusive
systems are obviated. Experience, however, shows, that although the zeal
and industry of a professor may occasion a slight fluctuation in the
numbers that resort to his school, this influence is very limited in its
action. It is the character of the study which attracts followers; and
whilst one department will be crowded to excess, independently of the
merits or demerits of the professor, others will be almost entirely
neglected. This will occur in all institutions in which professional,
[Pg
290]or extremely advanced, or unusual studies are taught.
Every student, whether he may be intended for one of the learned
professions, or for any other pursuit, considers it absolutely necessary
to attend certain academical departments;—those of ancient
languages and mathematics for example;—whilst comparatively few
can be expected to attend the professional chairs, or the higher
branches of study, notwithstanding the subjects may be taught in the
most attractive and sufficient manner. Unless the manners of a professor
are strikingly obnoxious, but little effect will be produced in the
numbers frequenting his school: and if they are so, it is a sufficient
ground for removal.

In those universities in which the professors are remunerated by a
fixed salary, this inequality of attendance is not felt; but it is a
serious evil, where the emolument accrues wholly or in part in the form
of tuition fees. The greatest inequality may prevail in the
compensation; and those teachers who are engaged in the most abstruse
departments, will necessarily be worse paid than those who are engaged
in superintending the elementary branches. Suppose the department of
mathematics to be divided into the elementary and transcendental: if
each be remunerated by an equal fee from his students, the latter cannot
expect to have an income of more than one-twentieth part of that of his
colleague. This we know is a ground of much dissatisfaction in many
institutions, and attempts have been made to obviate it. Meiners,^[2] a reflecting writer on the subject
of universities, thinks it would be proper to correct this inequality by
making a portion of the fees received common stock: but if we admit that
the abilities and attention of the professors are equal, and that the
same number of hours is employed in teaching the various branches, there
seems to be no reason why the remuneration of one professor should be
permitted to exceed that of his colleague. On this subject, some
pertinent remarks were made by Dr. Lieber, in which he agrees, in many
respects, with his countryman, Meiners.

“Now I ask,” says he, “how much even Professor
Gauss, le plus grand des mathematiciens, as La Grange
called him, has realized from his lectures? Mathematics, at least the
higher branches of them, never can be very popular; I mean, it is
impossible that they should be generally studied, and it would be to
consign a professor to absolute indigence, if government should leave
professors of mathematics dependent on the honorarium paid by their
students. I studied mathematics under the celebrated Pfaff at Halle,
whom La Grange called un des premiers mathematiciens, and
we were never more than twenty in his lecture room, of whom I fully
believe not much more than half paid the honorarium, which was
very small.” P. 58.

And again,—

“Yet I believe, that generally speaking, it is
better for professors and students [Pg 291]to have fees paid for
their lectures, for various reasons, although it would be unsafe to let
professors be solely or chiefly depending upon them, for it would be
unsafe to settle such annuities upon persons intended to live for
science, or guarantee them, forever, an easy life. It has besides been
found, that generally, students attend those lectures more carefully for
which they pay. With the different branches of instruction, the
principle upon which professorships are to be established, ought to
vary. In a city, in which many students of medicine always will be
assembled, it may be safe to let the professor greatly depend upon the
fees of the students, whilst a professor of Hebrew ought to be provided
for in such a way, that he may follow the difficult study of Oriental
languages, without the direct care for his support, in case the number
of students would be too small for this purpose, as it generally will
prove.” P. 65.

In most of our colleges, the president has some control over the
course of education in the schools of the institution; and,
consequently, over the professors. Such a plan is, however, impolitic.
No control whatever ought to be exerted over the teacher. If
qualified—and if not he is not fitted for his situation—he
ought to be left to himself, and to follow that system which he
conceives best adapted to develop the intellect of his pupils; at the
same time he should be held rigidly responsible for his free agency. In
the University of Virginia, as well as in other of the higher schools of
the country, the professor is required to send in a weekly report of the
number of lectures he has delivered; the daily examinations instituted;
the length of time occupied in each; and this report of the mode in
which his duties have been executed, is laid before the board of
visitors at their next meeting. In this manner delinquencies can be
detected, and the appropriate corrective be applied.

Occasionally, however, it may happen, that a professor may be
indolent, and inaccurate in his reports; and it may be a question,
whether it is not advantageous that the presiding officer should have
authority to attest how often a professor really does meet his class,
with the length of time expended, and the precise course of instruction
adopted; and then to report to the trustees, but not to interfere
himself in the rectification of abuses.

In the discussion of this subject in the Convention, Mr. Keating has
committed a blunder, regarding the University of Virginia.

“He would like to see the president, in truth, the
head of the university, occupying a distinguished station in the board
of trustees, controlling all the faculties, superintending all the
departments. It should be a situation such as an experienced and
retiring statesman would be proud to fill. A good example had been set
by the new University of Virginia.” P. 86.

Now, the rector of that institution is merely a member of the board
of visiters, chosen from out the body to preside over them, has no
delegated authority, but meets the other visiters once a year, and
presides over their deliberations, without, however, having a casting
vote. The chairman of the faculty, chosen annually by the board of
visiters, from amongst the professors, is the real president, and
possesses the powers usually granted to [Pg 292]the presidents of
colleges. We are surprised, by the bye, to observe from the journal of
the Convention, that the University of Virginia was entirely
unrepresented there. It has now been established six years, and has been
proceeding on a tide of successful experiment. It is the first effort
that has been made in this country to cast off the trammels that have
fettered practical instruction; to suffer each to take the bent of his
own inclination in the selection of his studies, requiring for the
attainment of its highest honours, qualifications only, and
rejecting time altogether. Although the first attempt in this
country on a large scale, the plan has been long adopted in other
countries, particularly in Germany, which has been so justly celebrated
for the novelty and excellence of its academic instruction; yet in no
country can such an experiment be regarded with more interest than in
the United States, where, for the reasons already assigned, the youth
are compelled to attain, if practicable, the strictly useful, and to
strive for their own support at a very early period of their career.

In the debates of the Convention, we find few allusions to that
institution, and wherever it is referred to, the most lamentable
ignorance of its economy is exhibited, and the greatest errors are
committed. In it there is an entire separation of the legislative from
the executive power; the board of visiters exercising the
former—the board of professors, or faculty, the latter. This has
its advantages and inconveniences. In many of our colleges for resident
students, the president is, ex officio, presiding officer of the
board of visiters, so that he forms a part of the two powers.
Where the president is at the same time a professor this is apt to
create heart burnings and jealousies, and gives him a decided, and often
unfair preponderance in any dispute with his brother professors, in
which the decision of the board of trustees may be requested; whilst, if
the executive power have no voice in the deliberations of the superior
board; and especially if the visiters reside at a distance from the
institution, laws are apt to be enacted, which create great
dissatisfaction and confusion, which have not been suggested by
experience, and which, consequently, are either wholly inoperative,
unfeasible, or impolitic. To obviate these evils the executive might
have a delegate at the meetings of the legislative body, who, even if he
had no vote, might be expected to take part in those deliberations which
regarded the rules and regulations of the university, or the interests
of the body to which he belonged; but in the discussion of other topics,
his attendance might be dispensed with. In this manner, the legislative
body would have the advantage of the voice of experience, and the
faculty, by choosing their own delegate, could always be represented,
should discussions arise between them and their presiding officer.
Nothing is more [Pg 293]certain, than that laws which seem easy
of execution, and admirably conceived, are often found, in practice, to
be wholly unavailable and injudicious. But the mischief does not end
here. The respect of the student is any thing but increased towards the
board that conceives, or the executive which attempts to fulfil such
regulations. By the enactments lying before us, of almost all the well
regulated institutions of this country, we find, that the board of
professors are requested by the trustees to suggest to them such laws as
experience may indicate; this is wise; the faculty are unquestionably
the best judges, and no non-resident can possibly have the necessary
experience.

Well adapted rules are the best safeguards for the success of any
university, where the students reside within the precincts especially.
They should be simple, yet not trivial; efficient, yet not unnecessarily
rigorous, and should be drawn up, if not perspicuously, at least
intelligibly. What shall we say to such cases as the following, which we
copy from the published laws of one of the oldest colleges of this
Union?

And again,—

“If offences be committed in which there are many
actors or abettors, the faculty may select such of the offenders for
punishment as may be deemed necessary to maintain the authority of the
laws, and to preserve good order in the college, &c.”

It is always found more easy to make laws, than to have them well
executed. This is, in fact, usually the great difficulty, and formed,
very properly, a subject of deliberation in the Convention. No light
was, however, shed upon it, and the most visionary sentiments were
elicited, denying the necessity of any discipline whatever in the higher
schools. Whenever a number of youths are thrown together within a small
compass, other rules become necessary besides those of the land. The
esprit du corps, the influence of bad example afforded by a few,
lead to the commission of offences that demand interposition;
accordingly, in every intelligent and sound thinking community, certain
transgressions, such
as gambling, drinking, disorderly behaviour, habits of expense and
dissoluteness, and incorrigible idleness, have been esteemed to merit
serious collegiate reprehension.

Of the different kinds of government adopted in universities, we
shall mention those only which prevail in the United States. The
authority is generally vested in a president and faculty, the former
having the power of inflicting minor punishments; the major punishments
requiring the sanction of the latter. With the president the power is
vested of deciding whether any case [Pg 294]is deserving the one or
the other. An objection has been urged against this system, that if the
president be of a timid, vacillating disposition, he may keep every case
from the faculty, and in this there is some truth; he is, however,
responsible to the trustees, and hence it can rarely happen that he will
exercise ill-judged lenity; this danger too, is greatly abated, provided
the faculty be allowed collateral jurisdiction, and can act on cases of
which he has not taken cognizance. If he has already acted, it would be
obviously improper that any additional jurisdiction should be
exercised—in accordance with the common law maxim—that no
man can be put in jeopardy twice for the same offence.

If such discretionary power be not granted to the presiding officer,
he will have to carry every case before the faculty; and thus his office
will be merely nominal, for it would be utterly impracticable to define,
with any accuracy, the cases that must fall under his dominion,
distinctly from those to be assigned for the animadversion of the
faculty.

It has been fancifully presumed, that the students themselves might
be induced to form a part of the government—to constitute a court
for the trial of minor offences, and to inflict punishment on a
delinquent colleague; and, further, that their co-operation might react
beneficially in the prevention of transgressions. The scheme has a
republican appearance, but experience has sufficiently shown that it is
impracticable. In the first printed copy of the enactments of the
University of Virginia, (1825) we find the following.

“The major punishments of expulsion from the university, temporary
suspension of attendance and presence there, or interdiction of
residence or appearance within its precincts, shall be decreed by the
professors themselves. Minor cases may be referred to a board of six
censors, to be named by the faculty, from among the most discreet of the
students, whose duty it shall be, sitting as a board, to inquire into
the facts, propose the minor punishment which they think proportioned to
the offence, and to make report thereof to the professors for their
approbation or their commutation of the penalty, if it be beyond the
grade of the offence. These censors shall hold their offices until the
end of the session of their appointment, if not sooner revoked by the
faculty.” But in the next edition of the enactments, (1827) we find that
no such law exists; hence we conclude, that the experiment had met with
the usual unsuccessful issue. So long, indeed, as the esprit du
corps or Burschenschaft prevails amongst students, which
inculcates, that it is a stigma of the deepest hue to give testimony
against a fellow-student, it is vain for us to expect any co-operation
in the discipline of the institution from them. This “loose principle in
the ethics of schoolboy [Pg 295]combinations,” as it has been termed by
Mr. Jefferson, has indeed led to numerous and serious evils. It has been
a great cause of the combinations formed in resistance of the lawful
authorities, of intemperate addresses at the instigation of some
unworthy member, and to repeated scenes of commotion and violence, and
cannot be too soon laid aside. Sooner or later, it must yield to the
improved condition of public feeling; and we cannot but regret to see
the slightest and most indirect sanction given to it in the regulations
of a university, which has made so many useful innovations in systems of
instruction and discipline, that have been perpetuated by the prejudices
of ages. The law to which we allude is the following:—”When
testimony is required from a student, it shall be voluntary and not on
oath, and the obligation to give it, shall be left to his own sense of
right.”

No youth hesitates to depose in a court of justice touching an
offence against the municipal laws of his country, committed by a
brother student. The youth and the people at large, are, indeed,
distinguished for their ready attention to the calls of justice. Yet it
is esteemed the depth of dishonour to testify when called upon by the
college authorities, against the grossest violator not only of
collegiate but municipal law, as if it could be less honourable to give
the same testimony before one tribunal than another; or the morality of
the act differed in the two cases.

This erroneous principle, which leads to the separation of so many
promising individuals from the universities, threatens their reputation
and prosperity, injures the cause and saps the very foundation of
education, prevails in some countries, and in some portions of this
country more than in others. In some of the most respectable of our own
colleges, it is made a duty to give evidence under pain of the highest
punishments; and in some of those in which the esprit du corps
has prevailed to the greatest extent, it has given occasion to the
adoption, by the faculty, of the monstrous alternative of selecting
persons on bare suspicion, or at random, and punishing them under the
expectation that the real delinquent might exhibit himself. A law of
this kind prevails in the college of William and Mary, in Virginia. “In
any case of disorderly conduct within the college, in which students are
concerned, every student in college at the time, whether he be a
resident therein or not, shall be considered as a principal and treated
accordingly, unless he can show his innocence.” It has also been
proposed to get over this difficulty, with regard to testimony, by
establishing a law court at the university, of which the law professor,
for example, might be judge, and the jury be constituted of the
inhabitants of the vicinity. This tribunal to possess the ordinary
jurisdiction of courts of law, and of course, empowered to require
testimony on oath [Pg 296]from the student. Such might be a
valuable adjunct to the powers ordinarily possessed by the faculties of
our colleges.

The majority of the convention, seem manifestly to have been in
favour of what they term Parental Discipline; but we are left to
conjecture how much this embraces. If it be meant, in the language of
Meiners, that “the academical authorities should bear to the students
the relation of fathers as well as of judges; that they should not only
punish, but entreat, admonish, advise, warn, and reprove”—no one
will dispute the propriety of the system. It is, in fact, that which is
introduced into our best institutions.

“The governors and instructors,” say the laws of Harvard, “earnestly
desire that the students may be influenced to good conduct and literary
exertion, by higher motives than the fear of punishment; but when such
motives fail, the faculty will have recourse to friendly caution and
warning, fines, solemn admonition, and official notice of delinquency to
parents or guardians; and where the nature and circumstances of the case
require it, to suspension, dismission, rustication, or expulsion.” But
important as may be the reformation of an offender, and interesting as
it is to see the wild and the thoughtless restored to the paths of
rectitude, it is obvious, that the prime object of discipline is less
such reformation than the advantage to others; and if in the collegiate,
as in the corporeal economy, an offending member should endanger the
safety of the whole fabric, it will have to be removed. A man is not
sent to the penitentiary merely because he has stolen a sheep, but in
order that sheep may not be stolen. The term parental discipline, in
fact, is most undefined; it includes the most discrepant and the most
heterogeneous modes of correction. Solitary confinement, sitting in a
corner, whipping, are used according to circumstances; but we presume
none of these punishments were contemplated by the Convention.

Most of the speakers seem to have been of opinion, that the parental
system of intercourse, such as a wise father would maintain with his
son, is best adapted for instruction and discipline in our colleges.
Such a course would be manifestly impracticable where the number of
students is considerable, and is of doubtful policy in all. The
professor should, indeed, be kind, courteous, and affable; conciliating
and ready to afford every information; but we doubt whether either
discipline or instruction is aided by constant and familiar intercourse.
There should be a certain distance maintained between pupil and
preceptor; but no presumption, no affected dignity on the part of the
latter; and under such circumstances every thing will be better effected
than where the communication is closer and less unrestrained.

But the great dread entertained by these gentlemen, has been [Pg
297]towards the infliction of disgrace; yet no punishment,
whatever, can be awarded, without more or less of this. It is a disgrace
to an offender to be reprimanded; to be dismissed from the schoolroom
for a time; to be sent away from the institution; the good, however, of
the rest requires it, and it is pseudo-philanthropy to repine. One point
canvassed in the Convention and connected with this subject, requires
notice. “Whether a student who has been dismissed from one institution
ought to be refused admittance into any other? There is a general
understanding amongst the colleges of the United States, that no student
thus separated from one, shall be received into another, unless he be so
far restored to favour as to be able to obtain from his college what is
termed a regular dismissal.” (Journal, p. 145.) Unconditional refusal to
admit, appears to us to be a rule which can allow of but little
justification. Meiners observes, that “those who come from other
universities ought to bring certificates that they have not been
expelled. If merely dismissed, they may be admitted,—but then they
should be narrowly watched.” It would, however, be barbarous to exclude
even an expelled student, provided he could produce satisfactory
evidence of his return to rectitude. It is a good practice to make the
matriculation, under such circumstances, difficult; and to require a
sufficient period of probation before he is permitted to join the
university. The University of Virginia, has no comity in this respect
with the other institutions of the Union. It has followed the only
rational plan; ordaining—”that no person who has been a student at
any other incorporated seminary, shall be received at that university,
but on producing a certificate from such seminary, or other
satisfactory evidence, to the faculty, with respect to his general
good conduct.” A no less important regulation would be, to exclude those
of notoriously idle or dissolute habits, and yet who had never been at
any incorporated seminary.

But Mr. Hasler is of opinion, and in this he is joined by Dr. Wolf,
and, so far as we can judge, from the published speech of Mr.
Woodbridge, by that gentleman also,—that little or no control is
necessary over the students who resort to universities. The paper from
the pen of that gentleman, in the Journal before us, bears the stamp of
visionary enthusiasm; exhibits, we think, clearly a total deficiency of
experience, and is

“Against this liberal discipline,” he remarks, “the
example of the Virginia university has very erroneously been alleged by
way of disapprobation, or as a failure: it affords no proof of that
kind. The erroneous system of collegiate life has been preserved in it.
The locality is insulated, and the constant sameness of the company, of
fellow-students only, produces the bad results of tedious and too close
influence between the student, even with the professors. Besides that,
the architect of that building, the well informed, philosophical, and
amiable Jefferson, [Pg 298]died before it was finished; for the
construction of such an institution is not finished, with the walls that
enclose its lecture rooms, or the dwellings; the organization can only
be the result of several years actual activity of the institution,
particularly when the plan is novel in the place where it is
established. To this is still to be added, that the professors appointed
there, were all accustomed to the collegiate life, and therefore not
likely of such dispositions as to be proper secundents to the liberal
plans of the original founder.” P. 265.

Without pointing out the numerous minor errors that pervade this
paragraph, we may remark, that Mr. Hasler is manifestly uninformed
regarding the condition of the institution to which he alludes. We have
every reason for believing, that the discipline of the University of
Virginia, is equal to that which prevails in any institution of the
Union. The evils of bad discipline, occasioned by the want of sufficient
and efficient rules, were speedily experienced there. The objections
felt by the board of visiters to over-legislation, led to an opposite
error; whilst undue dependence was placed upon the effect that might be
produced from the participation of the students themselves in the
judicial power. Accordingly, we find, from the supplement to the printed
enactments, that it became necessary to tighten the reins of authority
during the very first session.

It has often been remarked, that owing to the feeble domestic
discipline which ordinarily prevails in the United States, the youth,
particularly of the southern parts of the Union, require a different
mode of management from those of other countries. There does not appear
to be the slightest foundation for this vulgar error. Young men, as well
as adults, are much alike over the whole civilized globe; and if it be
found that mild measures are ineffectual, recourse must be had to more
severe every where: and in all cases, the laws, where needed, must be
executed temperately, unhesitatingly, and firmly.

It has been said, that certain offences are esteemed as such in all
institutions: of these, perhaps the most fatal are gambling and
drinking. Both exert their baneful effects upon the morals, habits, and
application of the student; and it is difficult to say, which is the
most to be deprecated. The general evils produced upon society by their
indulgence, it is as unnecessary as it would be out of place, to depict.
It is only as regards their influence on college life and discipline,
that they concern us at present.

Habits of gambling should lead to immediate separation of the
offender; they are rarely abandoned; whilst they are as pernicious to
the student himself, as they are likely to be by evil example to others.
Gaming is one of the offences that require a collegiate, in addition to
the municipal law. Under this head are included all those, which, from
their seductive character, are apt to engross the time of the student,
or to lead to parental loss and inconvenience, as cards, dice,
billiards, &c. [Pg 299]

Serious, however, as we must necessarily esteem the offence of
gambling, it is, if possible, less so than habits of drinking. The
latter is not an evil which entails with it so much pecuniary
difficulty, but it is apt to lead to the former, and to every other
loathsome vice. Few professed drunkards are reclaimed; and even should
they be, the valuable time lost in youth in these indulgences, renders
the youth subsequently unfit for the reception of moral and intellectual
culture; hence he remains in after life debased and vicious, exhibiting
merely the wreck of his previous intellect. Both these weighty offences
may, in some measure, be checked by wisely devised sumptuary laws. In
all well regulated universities, such endeavours have been directed to
restrain the expenditure of the students.

The Credit Gesetre of Göttingen occupy a space of twenty-two
octavo pages in the work of Meiners. At Harvard, (and we take this in
our references to institutions on the old system of instruction, as
being one of the longest established of those that receive resident
students,) every student who belongs to places more than one hundred
miles distant from Cambridge, is compelled to have a patron, appointed
by the corporation, who has charge of all his funds, and disburses them
under the regulations of the establishment. For this duty, he receives
from the student six dollars a year as a compensation. In the University
of Virginia, the proctor is the patron; and it is enacted, that “no
student, resident within the precincts, shall matriculate, till he shall
have deposited with the proctor all the money, checks, bills, drafts,
and other available funds, which he shall have in his possession or
under his control, in any manner intended to defray his expenses whilst
a student of the university, or on his return from thence to his
residence.” On this the proctor is allowed a commission of 2 per cent.
To ensure a more faithful compliance with this and other enactments on
the subject, each student, about to leave the university, is required to
sign a written declaration that he has made such deposit; or if not, to
state the sum withheld, and the proctor is entitled to the same
commission upon that sum as if it had been deposited. But if the student
refuses to give such written declaration, the proctor is entitled to
demand and receive from him so much as, with the commission on the money
actually deposited, will make the sum of twelve dollars. Moreover, in
all cases in which the student fails to make such written declaration,
or in which it may appear that he has not deposited the whole of his
funds with the proctor, that officer is required to report the fact to
the chairman of the faculty, in order that it may be communicated to the
parent or guardian of the student, be laid before the faculty and
visiters, and otherwise properly animadverted upon.

[Pg
300]The contraction of debts by students has, also, been made
liable to the severest collegiate penalties; but, notwithstanding, the
offence is always committed to a greater or less extent. The tradesman
will give credit, and the student escape detection. The last and best
resource is in the public spirit of the parent or guardian, who ought,
unhesitatingly and firmly, to refuse to discharge any debt of an
unauthorized nature, which his son or ward may have contracted, and
especially those of the tavern-keeper or confectioner. The censures
which he may incur from the exercise of his public spirit, can proceed
only from the interested and sordid; whilst he will receive the applause
of all those, whose favourable opinion it is desirable to possess. He
will, moreover, have the gratifying conviction, that, by such a course,
he is contributing to the annihilation of a system which is the cause of
much public and domestic mischief.

The legislature of Massachusetts, to aid in the prevention of
expense and dissoluteness, have patriotically enacted “That no
inn-holder, tavern-keeper, retailer, confectioner, or keeper of
any shop or boarding-house, for the sale of drink or food, or any
livery-stable-keeper, shall give credit to any under-graduate, of
either of the colleges within the commonwealth, without the consent
of such officer or officers of the said colleges, respectively,
as may be authorized to act in such cases, by the government
of the same, or in violation of such rules and regulations as
shall be, from time to time, established by the authority of said
colleges respectively.”

The example might be advantageously followed in other
states. The objection, that, in a free country, every one ought
to be protected in the exercise of his avocation, provided it be
honest, is nugatory. They who are receiving their education at
our universities, are to form the future strength,—and, in many
cases, the pride and ornament of the state; and the pecuniary
detriment that might accrue to a few individuals by the enactment
of such a law, must be reckoned as nothing, compared
with the overwhelming evil which results where unlimited indulgence
is permitted.

One of the most prevalent sources of expense is in the article
of dress. They, whose pecuniary means will admit of ostentatious
display, will frequently attempt to exceed others in this
fancied evidence of superiority. This excites a spirit of emulation
in such as are but ill able to afford it, and is the origin of
much idle extravagance.

To rectify this evil, as well as to aid in the more ready detection
of offences, a uniform style of dress has been adopted
in many of the universities of this country, and of Europe.

In some, this consists merely of a gown thrown over the clothes:
which latter may be as costly as the wearer chooses.

[Pg
301]In others, as in the universities of Harvard and
Virginia, cloth of the cheapest colour, and of a determinate quality,
has been selected; and the uniform dress, made from this, has been
directed to be worn, whenever the student is out of his room. The plan
pursued at those colleges, is the most advantageous, both in a sumptuary
and penal point of view: the fashion of the dress being such as to
distinguish readily the student from others, and thus to admit of the
discovery of transgressors.

As a general system, the adoption of a uniform is attended
with the most beneficial results: although, in particular cases,
it may clearly and necessarily add to the expenditure, where,
for instance, the student purposes to remain at an institution for
a single session only. He leaves home provided with his ordinary
apparel, which he is compelled to abandon, on becoming a
matriculate. The prescribed uniform must, of course, be laid
aside, on his quitting college at the end of the collegiate year;
and, by this time, his ordinary apparel has become too small for
him. For this reason, a law requiring a uniform dress, is obviously
more beneficial in such institutions as prescribe a particular
course and term of study, than where no such regulations
exist. In the laws of the University of Virginia, we find that
boots are proscribed, and this may seem to be descending to unnecessary
minutiæ; but they who are practically conversant with
university discipline, are aware that this article of dress is objectionable
on other grounds than expense. It is one of the contraband
methods, often had recourse to, for the introduction of
forbidden liquors. The boot is sent apparently to the shoemaker,
containing an empty bottle, which returns, by the same
conveyance, filled with the prohibited article.

On the important topic of practical instruction, the Convention
appear to have entered at some length; but, seemingly,
with the same discursive irregularity, that characterizes all their
other deliberations. We observe no method,—no lucid exposition,
and no evident conclusion. A great part of their discussion
was connected with the question, “whether students should be
confined to their classes, or allowed to graduate, when found
prepared, on examination?” On this subject, again, we find the
most discordant sentiments. The majority, perhaps, are in favour
of what they term “classification,” and adherence to
“tried and well-known courses;” whilst others, from the same
premises, have arrived at opposite conclusions:—the courses
having been, in their opinion, tried and found inadequate.

The most conflicting sentiments have been indulged on this point for
ages: whether, for example, it be advisable to permit a student to
select his own studies, or to compel him to enter and proceed with his
class: to pass a definite period at college, [Pg 302]if desirous of
attaining honours, and to offer himself for graduation only in company
with his class.

Most of the older universities adhere to the system, which requires
a fixed course to be followed, and for a certain time.
Many of the more modern, on the other hand, permit a free
choice; and some allow the student to become a candidate for
graduation, whenever he feels himself competent to offer.

In the United States, with but one or two exceptions, we believe,
the antiquated system, with more or less modification, is
adopted; and, in most, the distinctions into freshman and sophomore,
junior and senior classes, prevail: the sciences only
becoming predominant objects of the student’s attention in the
two last. The course of study in each of these continues for a
year, and is the same for every student, whatever may be his
capacity or tastes. To be received into any of those upon the
old system, it is made indispensable, that he should be acquainted,
to a certain extent, with the Greek and Latin languages.

“No boy,” says Mr. Gallatin, in an address characterized by
the same comprehensive and enlightened views, which we mark
in every thing emanating from that distinguished individual—”who
has not previously devoted a number of years to the study
of the dead languages; no boy, who, from defective memory,
or want of aptitude for that particular branch, may be deficient
in that respect, can be admitted into any of our colleges. And
those seminaries do alone afford the means of acquiring any other
branch of knowledge. Whatever may be his inclination or destination,
he must, if admitted, apply one-half of his time to the
further study of those languages. It is self-evident, that the
avenue to every branch of knowledge is actually foreclosed by
the present system, against the greater part of mankind.” Journal.
P. 175.

Mr. Gallatin does not seem to have been aware that there is one
university in the Union to which his strictures do not apply—the
University of Virginia. In it the student, except in the schools of
ancient languages, mathematics, and natural philosophy, is subjected to
no preliminary examination; and, moreover, he is required to pass
through no definite course or term of study; to attend no particular
classes, but is left free to select his own studies. When he has once
embraced them, however, he is not permitted to relinquish them, unless
by request of his parent or guardian, and by the permission of the
faculty; and whenever he esteems himself sufficiently informed on the
subject taught in any one of his schools, he is permitted to become a
candidate for graduation in it. This system, which, so far as it goes,
will bear the test of rigid and philosophical examination more than any
other, prevails more or less in the German universities, and has been
adopted, we believe, in the new London University.

[Pg
303]Professor Vethake of Princeton, New-Jersey—a
communication from whom was read to the convention, and which exhibits
sound practical sense, and ingenious and discriminating
reflection—has exhibited the prevalent inaccuracy of information,
regarding the system adopted at the southern university, to which, from
its novelty, we have so frequently alluded. “I see no objection,” he
remarks, “to render it obligatory on them (the students) to attend at
the same period of time, a certain number of courses, unless specially
exempted for sufficient reasons, as is now the arrangement in the
University of Virginia.” Journal, P. 30. No such arrangement
exists in that institution. The professor has been guilty of an error
loci; the plan is pursued at the old college of William and Mary, in
Virginia.

In canvassing the comparative merits of the two systems, and, indeed,
of every point of college discipline and education, it is necessary to
take into consideration the age at which the students are received. In
most of our colleges they are admitted when mere boys, and the course of
instruction is necessarily made more elementary. In the University of
Virginia, on the other hand, no student is received under the age of
sixteen, and when, whatever may be the fact, it is to be presumed, that
the more elementary portion of his education has been completed, and
that he is now prepared for the prosecution of more advanced academic,
or for professional, studies. To adopt a rigid rule, that students of
this age should be compelled to pass a period of four or more years at
college, before they can offer themselves for honours; or that they
should be confined to classes, with boys, to whom a few years is a
matter of comparatively little moment, would be manifestly unreasonable.
This much is certain, that in this country few can spare the time in the
mere attainment of academical or preliminary information. The truth is,
our universities are, like those of Scotland now, and Oxford and
Cambridge in former times—both schools and colleges. The under
graduate course, in those venerable seats of learning, seems at first to
have corresponded precisely, in point of age, with that of the modern
schools. Many of the statutes, still in force at Oxford and Cambridge,
respecting the discipline of students, sufficiently attest the boyhood
of those for whom they were enacted. One of these directs corporal
chastisement for those who neglect their lessons. Another, at Cambridge,
prohibits the undergraduates from playing marbles on the steps of the
senate house. In process of time, excellent schools arose, at which the
ordinary preliminary education was obtained, and the period of resorting
to college became thus postponed. The dislike to innovation, which
augments in intensity according to the age of the establishment,
prevented, however, any modification in the course of scholastic
instruction, [Pg
304]and thus it would seem was occasioned the length of time
consumed there in preliminary education.^[3]

It will be manifest, that the objections to the system of
classification are not so numerous or so weighty in those colleges into
which mere boys are received. It has been repeatedly urged, that by such
a system they are compelled to study subjects foreign to their
inclinations and capacities; but, until the age of sixteen or seventeen,
the mind cannot, perhaps, be better employed than in the acquirement of
such knowledge as forms part of the course prescribed in the generality
of our universities. The great objection is, that those of all ages are
subjected to the same restrictions.

The opposite course, as it at present prevails at the University of
Virginia, is also liable to animadversion; the less, however, as the
students are not received under sixteen years of age. It will most
generally happen, that neither the youth, nor his parent nor guardian,
is sufficiently acquainted with the course he ought to adopt with the
view of being well educated; and if the youth be left solely to the
exercise of his own discretion, which is often a negative quantity, he
will be apt to select those schools that require the least application,
and are the most interesting, to the exclusion of more severe and
elementary subjects. The best system is that which turns out the
greatest number of well instructed individuals, or which holds out the
greatest amount of incentives to regular study. This cannot be
accomplished by any plan which leaves the student, or the parent or
guardian—often less competent than the student—to be the
sole judge of what should be the course of instruction in all cases. The
University of Virginia, which admits this system to the full
extent—in no wise controlling the choice of the
student—affords us some elucidation of the comparative value
attached to different subjects of university instruction, by the
student, or by parents and guardians, and of the disadvantages of this
unrestricted plan. From the report of the rector and visiters of that
university for 1830, we find that there were attending the

We have selected those subjects only, which constitute the usual
course of academic instruction; and which, we think, ought to constitute
it. The school of chemistry we have omitted, because it was composed of
both academic and professional students, with the ratio of which to each
other we are unacquainted. The probability also is, that some of those
attending the departments [Pg 305]of natural and moral philosophy, were
students of law or medicine. From this list we find, that whilst the
schools of ancient languages, of mathematics, and of natural philosophy
were well attended, that of moral philosophy—one of eminent
importance in forming the youthful mind—was comparatively
neglected. The two first departments, as taught in most of our colleges,
are the subject of the first years’ attention; the latter are esteemed
more advanced studies, and, where free agency is allowed the pupil, he
will generally prefer the study of matter, with the advantage of the
beautiful and diversified elucidations afforded by the advanced state of
physical science, to that of mind, with all its arid, but by no means
sterile investigations.

We have said that, in the University of Virginia, the selection of
studies by the student is free and uncontrolled. An indirect influence
is, however, exerted by the graduation of the fees paid to the
professors. If the student attends but one professor, he is required to
pay $50; if two, $30 to each; if three or more, $25 to each. A similar
effect is produced by the enactment which requires that the student
shall enter three classes, unless his parent and guardian shall
authorize him, in writing, to attend fewer. Such regulations are
favourable only to diffusion of studies over three subjects; the evil
remains—of permitting the student to employ his own unassisted
judgment in the choice. Such a rule must, however, be generally
inoperative. If the collegiate regulation be known, the student will
take care to provide himself with the necessary authorization from his
parent or guardian; and if not known, it would be hard that the rule
should apply. But let us suppose that he arrives at the university
without any such authorization, and desires to join the elementary
departments of ancient languages and mathematics. When he discovers that
he is required to attend three schools, he will necessarily select one
that may afford the greatest attractions, and the attention to which may
be esteemed recreation rather than study. In such a case, the law,
independently of being productive of no clear advantage except that of
adding to the emolument of a greater number of professors, has the evil
of compelling an elementary student to adopt a more advanced subject of
study, or, at all events, an additional study to the disadvantage of the
main object for which he joined the university. Less objection would
have existed, if the regulation had required the student to attend
two schools under such circumstances. He might then devote
himself exclusively to elementary studies; or, if more advanced, he
could readily find a collateral subject, which would not distract his
attention from the main department, and might form an agreeable and
useful alternation.

The truth is, however, that the law is liable to all the objections
which apply to the old collegiate regulations, which make [Pg 306]time
the only element of qualification for distinction. The board of visiters
of that university should have gone a step further, and instead of
stating the number of schools which a pupil should be compelled
to attend, unless his parent or guardian wished otherwise, they should
have recommended, not enforced, a particular system of study for those
desirous of attaining high literary distinction, or of becoming well
educated; still retaining the valuable feature, that they, whose
opportunities, tastes, or capacities, do not admit of their following
the recommendation, may choose their own subjects.

What this system ought to be, we will now inquire into. It will enter
naturally into the consideration of the latter part of the question
canvassed before the Convention—”ought students to be confined to
their classes, or allowed to receive degrees when found prepared on
examination?” The affirmative of the proposition, as regards
graduation, seems to be the natural view; yet there are few institutions
at which this course is permitted. If the pupil be constrained to follow
a prescribed and unbending series of studies, as is the case in most of
the universities of this country and of Europe, it would appear to
result as naturally that the negative view should be adopted.

In the Convention, the most opposing sentiments were here again
elicited; and, as on other topics, they seem to have arrived at no fixed
conclusion; all that we are informed being, that “the discussion of the
topic was discontinued.”

As regards the requisites for graduation in the different colleges of
the Union, they are as various as the colleges themselves. This
circumstance has, indeed, given occasion to the little estimation in
which the degrees are in general held. It often happens, in truth, that
the degree of Bachelor of Arts is conferred at one institution, on such
as would be utterly incapable of acquiring it at another; and, at the
close of his college career,—which differs in length in different
institutions,—every individual receives the first degree in the
arts: the examinations instituted being a matter of form, and, too
often, of farce. We cannot be surprised, then, that a degree, thus
obtained, should be contemned; and that, even in legislative assemblies,
members should be found to declare themselves totally unworthy of the
honours thus conferred upon them. This is not the case in the
universities of Europe. In the English universities, the Baccalaureate
is made the test of severe devotion to particular studies; and, whatever
objections may be made to the plan followed in those institutions, of
requiring accurate classical and mathematical knowledge, to the
exclusion of every thing else, the degree is, at all events, an evidence
that the possessor is unusually well instructed in those matters. Hence,
we find in that country the initials B. A. and M. A. proudly appended to
[Pg
307]the names of the Bachelor or Master, and received by all
as emblems of literary distinction. How rarely do we see the title thus
added in this country? This comes from the causes already alluded
to;—the degree is too easily attained; and, when attained, is such
an insufficient evidence of learning, that it is discarded; and the
parchment and the seal and riband, and the pomp and ceremony of the day
for the distribution of honours, which excited so much juvenile
exultation, are, in after life, esteemed no criterion of literary
distinction. We cannot, then, be surprised, that one of the topics which
engaged the Convention, was, “whether the title of B. A. should be
retained?”

To the title Bachelor of Arts, unmeaning as it derivatively
is, we have but little objection, provided certain definite ideas are
attached to it. In the University of Virginia, the term graduate
seems to be considered more appropriate. We do not think it an
improvement upon the ancient appellation:—

But few appellatives, in their received acceptation, would be found
to correspond with their derivative meaning. The French have their
“Bachelors” and “Masters of Sciences,” but these terms are not more
significant; whilst “Doctor” too often means any thing rather than
doctus—”Qui dit Docteur ne dit pas un homme docte, mais un
homme qui devrait être docte.”

Every well devised system of education should combine an attention to
language; to the sciences relating to magnitude and numbers; and to
those that embrace the phenomena of mind and of matter.

Little doubt, we think, can exist in the minds of the intelligent,
that the ancient languages should form one element. Much has been said,
and much will continue to be said, on both sides of this question, into
which we do not propose to enter: admitting, however, that the Latin
language, for example, is less necessary now than when it was the
exclusive language of the learned, and that the modern languages have
emerged from their then Patois condition, and risen in relative
importance, a certain knowledge of that tongue, as well as of the Greek,
ought still to form part of the education of every gentleman. The mind
of youth cannot be better engaged, during the early period of their
university career, than in becoming acquainted with the classic models
of antiquity, and practised in the habits of discrimination which the
study engenders. Whether it should be prosecuted to the extent
inculcated at the English universities, and to the comparative exclusion
of other subjects, is another question. In this country, at least, the
course would be injudicious and unfeasible, and has been canvassed by
Mr. Gallatin [Pg
308]with that gentleman’s usual felicity of exposition. The
illustrious founder of the University of Virginia appears, however, to
have had different views on this subject from those we have expressed;
and views which appear somewhat inconsistent with freedom of graduation
in the separate schools.

In the earliest copy of the enactments, (1825,) we find it stated,
amongst other matters relating to the attainment of honours, that “the
diploma of each shall express the particular school or schools in which
the candidate shall have been declared eminent, and shall be subscribed
by the particular professors approving it. But no diploma shall be given
to any one who has not passed such an examination in the Latin language
as shall have proved him able to read the highest classics in that
language with ease, thorough understanding, and just quantity. And if he
be also a proficient in the Greek, let that too be stated in the
diploma; the intention being that the reputation of the university shall
not be committed but to those, who, to an eminence in some one or more
of the sciences taught in it, add a proficiency in those languages which
constitute the basis of a good education, and are indispensable to fill
up the character of a ‘well educated man.'”

Without dwelling on the unreasonableness of denying a diploma to one
who has sufficient knowledge of mathematics, or chemistry, or of natural
or moral philosophy, because he may not be thoroughly acquainted with
Latin, we cannot avoid expressing our surprise that it should not have
struck that philosophic individual, and his respectable colleagues, as
being a total prohibition to graduation in certain departments. To be
able “to read the highest classics in the Latin language with ease,
thorough understanding, and just quantity,” would, of itself, require as
much time as the majority of our youths are capable of devoting to their
collegiate instruction. Accordingly, we find, from the printed
enactments, that the faculty judiciously suggested a modification of the
rule relating to graduation, which was confirmed by the board of
visiters. As it now stands, it merely requires that every candidate for
graduation, in any of the schools, shall give the faculty satisfactory
proof of his ability to write the English language correctly.

For a university degree, then, the subject of ancient
languages should certainly be one element. This, we believe, is conceded
in all colleges: at least, the only exception with which we are
acquainted, is that of William and Mary, in Virginia.

As little doubt can there be, with regard to mathematics; which has,
in some institutions, been esteemed the study of primary importance. The
utility of a certain acquaintance with numbers and magnitude, is obvious
in every department of life; but the greatest advantage from the study,
is the precision and [Pg 309]accuracy which it gives to the
reasoning powers. When the student has attained this more elementary
instruction, he is capable of undertaking, satisfactorily, the study of
physics, and of becoming acquainted with the bodies that surround him,
and the laws that govern them, as well as of entering upon the science
of moral philosophy, and of comprehending the interesting subject of his
own psychology.

These seem to be the only departments that need be acquired for a
university degree. They embrace an acquaintance with the ancient
classics, and the philosophy of language, as well as with mathematical,
physical, and metaphysical facts and reasonings; and their acquisition
enables the student to enter upon professional or political life with
every advantage.

We have said nothing, it will be observed, of the modern languages.
The valuable stores to be drawn from these, especially from the French
and German, are, of themselves, attractions which render unnecessary
collegiate restraint or recommendation. No one can now be esteemed well
educated, who is thoroughly ignorant of them.

It has been remarked that the student is permitted, in the University
of Virginia, to graduate in the separate schools; and that an evil
exists there, in no course of study being advised. The consequence of
this is, that few can be expected to remain, for any length of time, at
that institution. We would by no means interfere with this graduation in
the schools; but, in addition to this, there ought, we think, to be some
goal of more elevated attainment, which might excite the attention and
emulation of those whose opportunities admit of their being well
educated. Let it bear the title of Bachelor of Arts, or Master
of Arts, or graduate, and, if a definite meaning be affixed
to it by the college authorities, it cannot fail to be as well
understood as the unmeaning terms, sophomore, freshman, senior-wrangler,
&c. and let the requisites for this higher honour be graduation in, or a
sufficient knowledge of ancient languages, mathematics, natural
philosophy, and chemistry and moral philosophy. If this plan were
universally adopted, a certain degree of uniformity might exist amongst
the different colleges: the degree would be received as the test of
literary merit, and the possessor be proud of appending the title to his
name. At present, as Mr. Sparks has correctly observed, the “diplomas of
this country, as they are now estimated in the United States, appear to
be of little value.”

The only other topic on which we shall pause, relates to the mode in
which instruction should be conveyed, and to the examinations to be
instituted, with the view of ascertaining comparative merit, and of
exciting emulation. On this subject, as is well known, the English
universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and [Pg 310]that of Dublin, differ
essentially from the Scotch and many others: the latter teaching,
solely, by lectures delivered orally. The most successful plan is that
which combines both lectures and examinations. It is but rarely, that a
text book can be found to suit the views of the professor, and no
student pays the same degree of attention to a written composition. Even
in the departments of ancient languages and mathematics, where the
combination of lectures with examinations would appear most difficult, a
prælection, explaining the various points of the subsequent examination,
may be, and often is, premised with striking effect. In the ordinary
method of teaching the classics, little attention is paid, except to the
vocabulary; and many a student has thumbed his Horace for the fourth or
fifth time, without being aware of the import of the philological,
geographical, historical, and other allusions, with which the inimitable
productions of the satirist abound. The vocabulary is but the key, that
unlocks these various treasures. In a well devised prælection,
things can be thought as well as words. We do not, indeed,
know any department of science or literature, in which a union of
prælections and examinations may not be employed with advantage. There
is, however, another and a more serious objection to confining a
student, in most branches at least, to a text book:—the professor
is not stimulated to keep pace with the rapidly improving condition of
science. If indolent and devoid of enthusiasm, he confines the youth
closely to the text,—takes no pains to advance him
farther,—and the student leaves the institution with the most
insufficient instruction on the subject. The text books which are used
at this time, in some of our colleges, and have been so for the last
fifty years, are melancholy evidences of the imperfect mode in which
particular studies are taught there, and of the absence of all progress
on the part of the teachers.

We believe the very best system of instruction, where it can be
adopted, is:—to recapitulate the subject of the preceding lecture,
and, after the lecture of the day, to examine the class thoroughly on
the last lecture but one. In this manner, the facts and theories of a
science are impressed three times, upon the memory of the pupil; and if,
after this, he is unable to retain them, he must be pronounced
incorrigible. This plan we conceive to be the superlative; and to this
conclusion we are led, not from theory simply, but from practice.

The nature of certain subjects, and the shortness of time
appropriated, in some institutions, to lecture, may, occasionally,
preclude its fulfilment: the nearer it can be accomplished, the better.
Under this plan, the text book becomes a matter of comparatively
trifling moment,—as the student will, of course, be [Pg
311]understood to come prepared for examination on the
subject of the lecture, as delivered ex cathedrâ.

With regard to public examinations, we need not dwell on the
question of their policy. All well-regulated universities in this
country and Great Britain, at least, have a system of rewards, as well
as of punishments; and this uniformity may be esteemed a fair criterion
of the opinions of the wise and reflecting of those countries on this
topic. However desirable it may be, that mankind should do their duty
without fear or expectation, every day’s experience testifies that the
hope of reward, or the dread of punishment, powerfully influences their
exertions, not only for temporal, but eternal purposes.

In the German universities, there are neither daily, nor semi-annual,
nor annual examinations; and, accordingly, we are not much surprised to
find them objected to by some who had received their education in that
country. The difference, however, which prevails upon this point in the
best colleges of different parts of the globe, ought to have suggested
some slight qualification of the sweeping censures that were passed upon
the system in the Convention. “The semi-annual examinations,” says Dr.
J. Leo Wolf, “as recommended by some of the gentlemen of the Convention,
lower the student to the rank of a schoolboy, while, being a man, as he
ought to be, they are useless, for he will know that it is for his own
good, to be assiduous in his studies. Moreover, the result of his
studies is proved at the time when he desires to graduate, and to be
licensed for the practice of his profession. Then he must pass a strict
rigid and public examination; and this I should warmly recommend. In
Prussia, these examinations are particularly severe, but quite impartial
and recorded.” P. 251. So far as we can judge from the involved and
almost unintelligible twaddle contained in the address of Mr. Woodbridge
on the subject of discipline, we should conceive him opposed to these as
well as to all other means, which would excite the emulation of
the student; thus discarding, on faulty metaphysical speculation, one of
the most powerful stimuli to all literary and honourable distinction;
and which, if rightly directed, can never, in collegiate life, act
otherwise than beneficially. Granting, then, that annual, or semi-annual
public examinations are of excellent policy in all higher schools, it
remains to inquire into the best mode of conducting them. The oral
system is that received into most of our colleges. In it the students
are necessarily interrogated on different subjects, so that it becomes a
matter of difficulty, nay of impracticability, to determine, with any
accuracy, their relative standing. Added to this, if the class be
numerous, it is impossible to put a sufficient number of questions to
each individual; and the bold and confident, will ever exhibit a
manifest advantage over [Pg 312]the timid and retiring. In every
respect, the oral, seems to us to be inferior to the written
examination, where either is practicable. In the departments of the
languages—ancient and modern—an admixture of the two would
always be requisite, for the purpose of determining the student’s
acquaintance with quantity or accent, etymology, syntax, &c.

The plan universally adopted into the higher schools of England, is
that by written answers. The students of a class are all furnished with
the same questions; and the answers to these are written in the
examination room. All communication between the examinants is prevented;
and no book allowed to be brought into the apartment. After the
expiration of a certain time the answers are collected.

The English method has, so far as we know, been received into one of
our universities only—the University of Virginia. It has now been
practised there for five years; and, we have reason to believe, the
results have been such, as to satisfy the faculty of its pre-eminence
over the methods usually practised. The following is its arrangement as
published in the Virginia Literary Museum.

“1. The chairman of the faculty shall appoint for
the examination of each school, a committee consisting of the professor
of that school, and of two other professors. 2. The professor shall
prepare, in writing, a series of questions to be proposed to his class,
at their examination, and to these questions he shall affix numerical
values, according to the estimate he shall form of their relative
difficulty, the highest number being 100. The list, thus prepared, shall
be submitted to the committee for their approbation. In the schools of
languages, subjects may also be selected for oral examination. 3. The
times of examination for the several schools shall be appointed by the
chairman. 4. At the hour appointed, the students of the class to be
examined shall take their places in the lecture room, provided with
pens, ink, and paper. The written questions shall then, for the first
time, be presented to them, and they shall be required to give the
answers in writing with their names subscribed. 5. A majority of the
committee shall always be present during the examination; and they shall
see that the students keep perfect silence, do not leave their seats,
and have no communication with one another or with other persons. When,
in the judgment of the committee, sufficient time has been allowed for
preparing the answers, the examination shall be closed, and all the
papers handed in. 6. The professor shall then carefully examine and
compare all the answers, and shall prepare a report, in which he shall
mark, numerically, the value which he attaches to each: the highest
number for any answer being that which had been before fixed upon as the
value of the corresponding question. For the oral examinations, the
values shall be marked at the time by the professor, with the
approbation of the committee, but the number attached to any exercise of
this kind shall not exceed 20. 7. This report shall be submitted to the
committee, and if approved by them, shall be laid before the faculty,
together with all the papers connected with it, which are to be
preserved in the archives of the university. 8. The students shall be
arranged into three separate divisions, according to the merit of their
examinations as determined by the following method. The numerical values
attached to all the questions are to be added together, and also the
values of all the answers given by each student. If this last number
exceeds three-fourths of the first, the student shall be ranked in the
first division; if it be less than three-fourths, and more than
one-fourth, in the second; and if less than one-fourth, in the
third.”

This scheme combines the advantages of affording both the [Pg
313]positive and relative standing of the
pupil. And as those in the separate divisions are arranged
alphabetically, it does not necessarily expose the lowest in the third
division to the degradation and mortification, to which, however, they
are often richly entitled.

The plan of examinations for honours and prizes, in the University of
London, resembles the above essentially; differing from it, indeed, in
few particulars. It comprises one regulation, however, which might be
advantageously appended to the other. We copy it from the printed
“Regulations”—Session, 1828-29.

“The paper containing the answers must not be signed with the
student’s own name, but with a mark or motto; and the name of the
student using it, inclosed in a sealed envelope, inscribed with the mark
or motto must be left with the professor, to be opened after the merit
of the answers shall have been determined.” This prevents the
possibility of favouritism, in all classes, which are so large that the
professor does not become acquainted with the autographs of his
students. The examinants are there also placed, according to the merits
of their answers, in classes, denominated the first,
second, and third; provided the sum of their answers be
equal to a certain amount; all below this point are not classed.

We have now touched upon the most important topics presented by the
committee for the consideration of the Convention. Several others were
propounded, but they seem to have fallen still-born from their authors.
As regards the 11th, 12th, and 14th, “whether any religious service,
and, if any, what may with propriety be connected with a
university?”—”Whether any course of instruction on the evidences
of Christianity will be admissible?”—And, “Is it proper to
introduce the Bible as a classic in the institutions of a Christian
country?” We shall gladly follow the example of prudence exhibited by
the Convention, and pass them over. The affirmative view of the last
topic, meets with an enthusiastic supporter in the author of one of the
works, whose titles are placed at the head of this article.

One proposition only remains, on which, in conclusion, we may indulge
a few remarks:—”The importance of adding a department of English
language, in which the studies of rhetoric and English classics shall be
minutely pursued.” This subject, we regret to see, experienced the fate
of others, more deserving of neglect, and was not discussed.

We have long felt impressed, that the organization of our colleges is
defective in this respect. Into many of them the student is received,
after having been employed in scraping together a few Greek and Latin
words and phrases; yet lamentably ignorant of the literature, structure,
and even of the commonest principles of the orthography of his own
tongue. Such a chair ought [Pg 314]to be established in all our
universities, and a certain degree of proficiency in the subjects
embraced by it, should be a preliminary to every collegiate attainment.
It would be an instructive and delightful study to trace back, as far as
possible, the language of Britain to its aboriginal condition, and to
follow up the changes impressed upon it, by the Celtic, Gothic, Roman,
Saxon, Belgic, Danish, and Norman invaders; the investigation being
accompanied with elucidative references to the literature of the
different periods. The poetry, romances, and the drama would constitute
inquiries of abundant interest and information. To these might be added
didactic and rhetorical exercises for improving the student in the
practice of writing—not merely accurately, but elegantly and
perspicuously.

Such a professorship has been wisely established in the University of
London; and we trust the new University of New-York will follow the good
example. If we may judge, indeed, from the ungrammatical and inelegant
Journal of the Convention, an attention to this subject is as much
needed there as elsewhere; and were the professorship in the hands of an
accomplished individual, it could not fail to improve the literary taste
and execution of the community.

[1]
Memoir, Correspondence, &c. Vol. IV. P. 387.

[2]
Ueber die verfassung und verwaltung deutscher universitaten. Göttingen,
1801-2.

[3]
Quarterly Review, Vol. XXXVI. P. 229.

Art. II.—The Life and Times of His Late
Majesty, George the Fourth: with Anecdotes of distinguished Persons of
the last fifty years. By the Rev. George Croly,
A. M. London: 1830.

C’est un métier que de faire un livre comme de faire
une pendule—it is a trade to make a book just as much as to
make a watch—is a remark which was never better exemplified, than
by the manner in which the craftsmen of the book-making trade in London,
have compressed the Life of His Late Most Sacred Majesty, within the two
covers of a volume. That exalted personage may have descended to the
tomb unwept and unhonoured, in reality, however numerous the tears shed
upon his bier, or gorgeous the ceremonies attending his interment; but
he certainly has not gone down to it unsung, as the above work is only
one of several, if we are not much mistaken, in which his requiem has
been chanted with becoming loyalty. We have seen none of its fellows,
though the advertisement of them has met our eye. Judging, however, from
the reputation of its author, there is not much literary boldness in
pronouncing it the best which has appeared about its kingly subject.

Mr. Croly is well known as a candidate of considerable pretensions,
as well for the honours of Parnassus, as for those [Pg
315]which an elevated seat on the prosaic mount, whatever may
be its name, can confer. But, in concocting this last production, it is
beyond doubt, that the main object he had in view, was one of a more
substantial kind than a mere increase of fame. “The Life, &c.” is,
in fact, a bookseller’s job, executed, we allow, by a man of genius.
There are evident marks about it of hasty and careless
composition,—of a desire to make a book of a certain number of
pages, with as little trouble and delay as possible. The style is often
deficient in purity and correctness, and overloaded with glittering
tropes and ornaments, not always in good taste; the arrangement wants
consecutiveness and perspicuity; and attention is sometimes bestowed
upon topics comparatively unimportant, to the detriment of such as are
of more moment. But it is, on the whole, a work of undeniable talent,
containing much powerful writing, richness and beauty of diction,
graphic delineation of character, interesting information, and amusing
anecdote. Some of the author’s sentiments are obnoxious to censure, and
we shall venture to disagree with him, occasionally, as we proceed.

It was on the 8th of September, 1761, that His Majesty, George the
Third, espoused Sophia Charlotte, daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg
Strelitz; and, on the twelfth of August, in the following year, she
presented him with a son and heir, to his own great delight, and the
universal joy of the British empire. Ineffable as is the contempt which
is expressed at the present day, for the superstitious trust reposed in
omens by the heathen ancients, yet nothing of any consequence occurs,
without being attended by signs in which the Christian multitude discern
either fortunate or disastrous predictions. It has thus been carefully
recorded and handed down, that the birth of the royal infant happened on
the anniversary of the Hanover accession, and that the same day was
rendered trebly auspicious, by the arrival at London of wagons
containing an immense quantity of treasure, the fruits of the capture of
a Spanish galleon off Cape St. Vincent, by three English frigates. A few
days after his appearance in this world, His Royal Highness was created
Prince of Wales, by patent, and would have been completely crushed under
the load of honours that devolved upon him, had their weight been of a
kind to be physically felt; Duke of Cornwall, hereditary Steward of
Scotland, Duke of Rothsay, Earl of Carrick, and Baron of Rothsay, were
his other titles,—being those to which the eldest son of the
British throne is born. There is no harm in this, perhaps, as things are
constituted in England, but we have never been able to think of one of
the titles to which the second son is heir, without feeling an
inclination to smile;—the Duke of York is Bishop of
Osnaburgh;—nothing more ridiculous than this, can be discovered
even amid [Pg
316]the nonsense that is inseparable from regal
institutions;—born a bishop!

At the time of the Prince of Wales’s birth, George the Third was at
the height of popularity,—the reasons for which, Mr. Croly has
detailed at some length. In depicting the character of this monarch, he
certainly has not employed the pencil with which it was darkened, as our
readers may recollect, by Mr. Coke of Norfolk, on a recent occasion, who
thus brought upon his own head a torrent of abuse. It was shocking, was
it said, to disturb the repose of one who had so long been slumbering in
the tomb, in the same way as it had been pronounced monstrous to say
aught in disparagement of His Majesty, when he had just been gathered to
his forefathers; as if kings were like private individuals, the effects
of whose acts either expire with themselves, or are of contracted
influence. It is far, however, from our wish, to dispute the fidelity of
Mr. Croly’s portrait; and we are perfectly willing to believe, that “no
European throne had been ascended for a hundred years before, by a
sovereign more qualified by nature and circumstances, to win golden
opinions from his people, than George the Third,” though, we must be
allowed to think, that circumstances did not qualify him to win “golden
opinions” from us Americans. “Youth, striking appearance, a fondness not
less for the gay and peaceful amusements of court life, than for those
field sports, which make the popular indulgence of the English
land-holder, a strong sense of the national value of scientific and
literary pursuits, piety unquestionably sincere, and morals on which
even satire never dared to throw a stain, were the claims of the king to
the approbation of his people;” but all these claims were neutralized,
by the appointment of Lord Bute, as his prime minister. The odium that
resulted from this measure, was carefully fomented by the arts of
demagogues, the most conspicuous of whom was Wilkes. It was ascribed to
an unworthy passion entertained for the handsome nobleman by the
princess dowager, and to arbitrary principles in the monarch; and, such
was the effect produced upon the latter, by the opposition and virulence
which he encountered, that he is said to have conceived the idea of
abandoning England, and retiring to Hanover. At one time, his
inclination to take this step was so great, that he communicated it to
the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, who honestly told him, that, “though it
might be easy to go to Hanover, it might be difficult to return to
England.”

In December, 1765, when not quite three years of age, the Prince of
Wales received a deputation from the Society of Ancient Britons, on St.
David’s day, and, in answer to their address, said,—”he thanked
them for this mark of duty to the king, and wished prosperity to the
charity,”—an early development [Pg 317]of that talent for
public speaking, which he is said to have possessed! In the same year,
he was invested with the order of the garter, along with the Earl of
Albemarle, and the hereditary Prince of Brunswick.

When the Prince had attained an age at which it was deemed necessary
for his education to commence, it was determined that it should be
conducted on a private plan; and Lord Holdernesse, “a nobleman of
considerable attainments, but chiefly recommended by dignity of manner
and knowledge of the court,” was appointed his governor, and Dr.
Markham, subsequently archbishop of York, and Cyril Jackson, were named
preceptor and sub-preceptor. This measure excited a violent outcry; it
was said that the heir to the throne should receive a public education
at one of the great schools; and this opinion Mr. Croly strenuously
advocates. It did not, however, produce any effect, and the whole course
of instruction which the Prince underwent was private, though the
preceptorship was twice changed. The Duke of Montague, Hurd, Bishop of
Litchfield, and the Rev. Mr. Arnold, formed the last preceptorial
trio.

In January, 1781, when the Prince was but a little more than
eighteen, he was declared of age, “on the old ground that the
heir-apparent knows no minority;” and a separate establishment, on a
small scale, having been assigned to him, he now became, in a measure,
his own master. In 1783, when about to take his place in the
legislature, arrangements were commenced for supplying him with an
income, and at the instigation of the king, the parliament voted him an
annual revenue of £50,000, besides an outfit of £100,000. The sum of
£60,000 for the outfit had been originally proposed by the king, but it
was increased in consequence of the demand of the cabinet, known by the
name of the Coalition Cabinet, some of the members of which, especially
Fox, insisted for a time upon making the grant £100,000 a year. This,
however, the king resolutely refused to allow, “for the double reason of
avoiding any unnecessary increase to the public burdens, and of
discouraging those propensities which he probably conjectured in the
Prince.” He accordingly demanded “but” the sums we have
mentioned. Can any one read the sentence just quoted from Mr. Croly,
without a smile? The precious fruits of royalty!—they even reduce
a man of sense to write what is ludicrous from its absurdity. It is,
without doubt, an admirable method of avoiding any unnecessary increase
of the public burdens, and discouraging the evil propensities of a young
man, to deprive the people of five hundred thousand dollars at once, and
half that sum every year, in order to bestow it upon the individual who
has no other use for it than to gratify those propensities. But, we
shall be told, the heir to a throne must support his dignity. In that
[Pg
318]phrase is comprised as unanswerable an argument against
royal institutions, as can be desired. The people must be heavily
burthened, to enable the person by whom they are to be governed, to
indulge in all sorts of excesses, and thus disqualify himself for that
duty, in order that he may support the dignity of his station! Thank
Heaven we live in a land in which there is no such dignity to be
supported,—where the time of the great officers of state is never
occupied in wrangling about the extent of the facilities which shall be
afforded the successor to the administration of affairs, of bringing
disgrace upon himself, and the country,—where the people are
infinitely better governed, at an infinitely less expense, both of money
and honour!

“Now, fully,” says Mr. Croly, “began his checkered
career,”—which, properly interpreted, means, that now he fully
plunged into that reckless course of profligacy and folly, which
terminated only with his life, and which should render his name odious
to all who are friends of decency and virtue. We were afraid when we saw
the announcement of the work we are reviewing, that its author would
allow himself to be blinded by the regal blaze which surrounded its
subject, and would endeavour to palliate those violations by a king, of
the most sacred ordinances of the religion of which he is a minister,
which he would have branded with indelible infamy in a private
individual. Our fears, unfortunately, have not proved groundless. “There
are no faults that we discover with more proverbial rapidity, than the
faults of others,—and none that generate a more vindictive spirit
of virtue, and are softened down by fewer attempts at palliation, than
the faults of princes in the grave. Yet, without justice, history is but
a more solemn libel; and no justice can be done to the memory of any
public personage, without considering the peculiar circumstances of his
time.” Such is the sophistry with which he enters upon the task of
extenuation. The first part of the first period in the above extract, is
certainly undeniable—”fit nescio quomodo,” says Cicero, “ut magis
in aliis cernamus si quid delinquitur, quam nobismet in ipsis;” but,
though the second part may also be indisputable as a general position,
it is not at all applicable to this case. The historian or biographer,
who is discussing the character of a monarch long since “fixed in the
tomb,” will doubtless find it an easy matter to make

should he be so inclined: no other considerations but those of
conscience operate then to influence his pen. But the case is quite
different when he is writing about a king scarcely yet cold in the
grave, when a species of popular infatuation commands that grave to be
strewn with flowers, when it is necessary, as it [Pg
319]were, to sail with the stream or sink; and when the
brother of the deceased monarch has just ascended the throne, and, for
the sake of appearances, may deem himself called upon to consider every
thing said concerning his predecessor as touching himself. How many
motives combine here to warp the judgment and the conscience, and
convert sober history into funeral panegyric! Thus, if Mr. Croly had
undertaken the task of delineating the moral features of Richard the
III., or of James the II.—we adduce James the II., because our
author seems to regard Catholicity as so monstrous a crime that this
prince would, we are sure, not be drawn by him in the most flattering
colours—he would have found, to use his own words, that there are
no faults which generate a more vindictive spirit of virtue, than those
of princes in the grave; but in depicting George the IVth., he has
proved the reverse of this to be the fact. It is amusing, although at
the same time melancholy, to contrast the virtuous indignation with
which he pours out his anathemas against those who committed the
tremendous crime of advocating and effecting the emancipation of the
Catholics, with the gentle terms in which he comments upon the
wanderings of the Prince of Wales from the proper path, and the glosses
with which he softens their obliquity. One might be induced to suppose
that his creed holds religious liberality as the crime of deadly dye,
and dissipation of the lowest kind as a vice merely venial in its
character.

“Without justice,” he continues “history is but a more solemn libel,
and no justice can be done to the memory of any public personage,
without considering the peculiar circumstances of his time.” This remark
is true with regard to those public personages whom he has so severely
taken to task for their conduct respecting the Catholic question; had
not his mind’s eye been covered with a film, he would have perceived
that the “peculiar circumstances of the time” fully warranted that
change in the course pursued by Mr. Peel, the Duke of Wellington, and
others, with reference to that important question, which has drawn from
him such expressions of horror; but it is far from being equally
admissible where he has applied it. That less tenderness should be
extended towards the vices of princes than to those of subjects is, we
think, undeniable, when the weightier (secular) reasons they have for
keeping a strict control over their passions, are
considered,—reasons which should completely counterbalance any
greater temptations they may be obliged to undergo.

[Pg
320]Surely these two considerations—the potent effect
of his example, and the almost impossibility of governing others when
not able to govern himself—without referring to that paramount one
which operates for all men alike, ought to have been sufficient to
counteract the tendency of “the peculiar circumstances of his time,” to
inflame the “propensities” of the Prince; or, at least, should be enough
to prevent an extenuation on that ground, of his unrestrained indulgence
of them, by the historian of his life. What those circumstances were, we
will let Mr. Croly relate.

Our readers may compare the above portrait of his royal highness,
with that which Mr. Jefferson draws of him in one of his letters.

In 1787, the Prince had involved himself in debt to such an amount,
that it was found necessary to solicit Parliament, not only for a sum
sufficient to liquidate his obligations, but also for an increase of his
income, the salary first granted having proved quite inadequate for his
royal propensities. The following account of his debts and expenditure
was laid before the House of Commons, and furnishes a teeming commentary
on the blessings of hereditary government. In considering this matter,
one might be tempted to regard Parliament as a species of eleemosynary
institution, for the relief of insolvent royalty.

Debts.

[Pg
322] The debate upon the grant was of a highly animated
character, and in the course of it the Prince was not spared. He was
befriended by the opposition, with Fox at its head, having thrown
himself into the arms of that party, who were endeavouring in every way
to drive Pitt from his ministerial seat. But in this instance, as in
most others, the latter succeeded in carrying his point; in consequence
of which, £161,000 were issued out of the civil list to pay the Prince’s
debts, and £20,000 for the completion of Carlton House, but no
augmentation of his income was allowed. “Hopeless of future appeal,
stung by public rebuke, and committed before the empire in hostility to
the court and the minister, the Prince was now thrown completely into
Fox’s hands.”

Perhaps the two most interesting chapters in Mr. Croly’s book, are
those entitled “the Prince’s friends,” in which he has brought into
review most of the principal characters of that period of intellectual
giants, whose renown continues to shed increasing lustre around the
political and literary horizon of England. The world is never tired of
reading whatever has reference to those personages, and a book that
professes to speak respecting them, may be said to possess a sure
passport to public favour at the present day. Well may the old man now
living in England, the prime of whose life was passed in that time, be
allowed to be a “laudator temporis acti,” without having it imputed to
the fond weakness of senility. We shall make copious extracts from this
portion of our author’s work.

The following investigation of the authorship of Junius will be read
with interest.

Mr. Croly has recorded a quantity of the “good things” that were said
by the wits of the day at the table of the Prince, who used the
facilities which his rank afforded him, of collecting around him all
that was most distinguished in intellect, with praiseworthy zeal. Had
his companions been chosen only from among that highest class, we might
have quoted with regard to him, the sentence of Cicero—”facillime
et in optimam partem, cognoscuntur adolescentes, qui se ad claros et
sapientes viros, bene consulentes rei publicæ, contulerunt: quibuscum si
frequentes sunt, opinionem afferunt populo, eorum fore se similes quos
sibi ipsi delegerint ad imitandum”—but unfortunately his intimacy
was habitually shared by far less worthy associates—persons whom
it was contamination to approach. Many of these [Pg 328]jeux d’esprit
are of respectable antiquity; we transcribe a few which are attributed
to the Prince himself, as specimens of royal humour.

In October, 1788, George the III. was afflicted with a mental
disease, which totally incapacitated him for the duties of government.
We do not wish to be unjustly harsh, but when we consider the
irritability which, as may be inferred from the anecdote we have related
of the King’s intention to retire from England, must have formed a
prominent trait in his character, and the displeasure he could not help
manifesting in his communications to Parliament respecting the Prince’s
debts, it is impossible to reject the idea that the conduct of the
latter was a main cause of his affliction.

He recovered, however, before the preliminary arrangements for the
entrance of the Prince upon the regency had been completed. From this
period up to the moment
when the King became again a victim of the same dreadful malady, from
whose grasp he never afterwards was freed, the Prince mixed no more with
politics, but “abandoned himself,” in the words of our author, “to
pursuits still more obnoxious than those of public ambition.” The course
of his life was only varied by his disastrous marriage with the
unfortunate Caroline, Princess of Brunswick. One of Mr. Croly’s chapters
is headed “the Prince’s Marriage,” the next, “the Royal Separation.” We
need not [Pg
329]occupy much space with a subject which must be familiar
to all of our readers, and of which the details are as disgusting as
they are pitiful. Of all the foul stains upon the character of the royal
profligate, it has stamped the foulest. Every principle of honour, of
virtue, of humanity, was violated in the grossest manner.

That the Prince of Wales was morally guilty of the crime of bigamy in
marrying the Princess Caroline, we have no hesitation in asserting. No
one can doubt that Mrs. Fitzherbert had the claims of a wife upon him
previously to his entering into this second engagement, however it may
be attempted, as has been done by Mr. Croly, to deny such claims, upon
the ground that the connexion was void by the laws of the land, although
the ordinances of religion may have been complied with. If it can be
supposed, that the Prince was determined, whilst binding himself at the
altar of God by the most sacred vows, to take advantage of the laws of
the land to cast aside the solemn obligations he thus assumed, as soon
as it suited his convenience, in what a despicable situation is he
placed! Deceit, perjury, sacrilege, would be terms too weak for the act.
But Mr. Croly’s own words are sufficient to prove that the lady was, and
is, considered to have been connected with him by other ties than those
of a mistress. He says, “she still enjoys at least the gains of the
connexion, and up to the hoary age of seventy-five, calmly draws her
salary of ten thousand pounds a year!” Would that salary be continued to
a mistress? It is evident from the English papers that Mrs. Fitzherbert
is treated with the greatest consideration by the present king and royal
family, and that she is received by them on the most intimate footing;
her name is recorded amongst those of the constant guests at the royal
table and social assemblages of every kind. On what other ground can
this circumstance be accounted for, than that she is regarded as a
sister-in-law by the sovereign, and as a reputable relative by his
family?

It is singular enough that Mr. Croly seems to consider a violation of
the laws of God less reprehensible than a violation of the laws of man.
Such at least is the unavoidable inference to be drawn from his remarks
on this matter. He is quite indignant at the idea of his Royal Highness
having married a woman of inferior rank, and a Roman Catholic (there is
the horrid part of the affair,) by which he would have been guilty of a
sin against the state, and evinces great anxiety to prove that the crime
was one of a much lighter dye—merely an adulterous connexion, by
which he transgressed one of the Divine Commandments. This Mr. Fox also
attempted to do in Parliament, when it was hinted by a member that the
liaison was not of the character which usually subsists between
individuals in the relative rank of the Prince and the lady, and the
attempt was disgraceful [Pg 330]enough even in a statesman—but in a minister of
religion!—we leave it however to speak for itself.

In 1811, George the III. was a second time a lunatic, and the Prince
ascended his throne, though only with the title of Regent, which he did
not change for that of King until 1820, when the nominal monarch died,
having survived his reason for nearly ten years. Ten years longer did
the Fourth George sway the sceptre of the noblest empire in the world;
and then he too mingled with the same dust as the meanest of his
subjects. “C’est ainsi,” in the words of Bossuet, “que la puissance
divine, justement irritée centre notre orgueil, le pousse jusqu’ au
néant, et que, pour égaler á jamais les conditions, elle ne fait de nous
tous qu’ une même cendre.”

During the last years of his life, George the IVth was the prey of
various maladies, with which a remarkably strong constitution enabled
him to struggle until the spring of 1830. His corporeal sufferings may
have been one cause of his almost entire seclusion at Windsor Castle,
where he was like the Grand Lama of Thibet, unseeing and unseen, except
by a chosen few, but it cannot be doubted that the knowledge of the
unpopularity under which he certainly laboured, had some effect in
producing the slight communication which took place between him and his
subjects. So notorious was his aversion to making an appearance in
London, that when he was first announced, last April, to be seriously
indisposed, it was rumoured for a time that the sickness was
fictitious—a mere pretence to avoid holding a levee which had been
fixed for a certain day in that month, and which was in consequence
deferred. But before the period had arrived to which it was postponed,
there was no longer a doubt that the angel of death was brandishing his
dart, and that there was little chance of averting the threatened
stroke. The bulletins which the royal physicians daily promulgated,
though couched in equivocal and unsatisfactory terms, shadowed out
impending dissolution. The reason of their ambiguity was currently
believed to be the circumstance, that the King insisted upon reading the
newspapers in which they were published; whilst the medical attendants
were anxious to withhold from him a knowledge of his true situation.

Besides being in the public prints, these bulletins appeared, in
manuscript copies, in the windows of almost every shop, and were
likewise shown every day at the Palace of St. James, by a lord and groom
in waiting, richly dressed, to all of the loving subjects who preferred
repairing thither for the satisfaction of their affectionate solicitude.
It was rather amusing to watch the manner in which this satisfaction was
obtained. The bulletins were thrust into the faces of all as they
entered into the great hall where the exhibitors were stationed, with
laudable earnestness [Pg 331]and zeal, and most of the visiters
looked with great interest—upon the paintings with which the
apartment was adorned. The multitudes of persons, however, of both
sexes, and often of high distinction, who filled the rooms that were
thrown open, during the fashionable hours of the day, rendered it an
entertaining scene. The most anxious faces were those of the owners of
dry-good shops, by whom the recovery of the monarch was indeed an object
devoutly desired, as they had already laid in their varieties of spring
fashions, which the universal mourning that was to follow the demise of
the crown, would convert almost into positive lumber.

At length, on the 26th of June, intelligence was received that the
monarch of Great Britain had been conquered by a still more powerful
king. What mourning without grief! what weeping without a tear! The
papers immediately commenced a chorus of lamentation and eulogy, in
which but one discordant voice was heard. This was the voice of the
“Times”—the only leading journal which had independence and spirit
enough to vindicate its character as a guardian of the public morals, by
disdaining to prostitute its columns to the purposes of falsehood. One
paper affirmed, among other fulsome and mendacious remarks, that the
royal defunct must have taken his departure from this world with a clear
conscience, as he had never injured an individual! After such an
assertion

Did the shades of an injured wife and an injured father never rise
before the imagination of the dying man? did the injury inflicted by a
life of evil example never appal the recollection of the dying King?
Yes, a life of evil example; we repeat the phrase. Look at his whole
career, from the moment when it first became free from control, to its
close. Does it not afford an almost uninterrupted series of the most
scandalous violations of the rules which a king especially should hold
sacred—the rules of religion, of morals? When young, he
countenanced by his deportment the extravagance and profligacy of all
the youth of the kingdom—when old, contemplate the avowed, the
flagrant concubinage he sanctioned—see one adulteress openly
succeeding another in his favour, and say whether his declining years
furnished a more exemplary model for imitation than those of his
boyhood. Worse than all, behold by whom, amongst others, his very
death-bed, we may say, is surrounded—the mistress who had last
sacrificed her virtue and honour, and the husband and the children of
that woman, who were occupying places in the royal household, as the
price of the wife and the mother’s shame. It is well known that it was
not until after [Pg 332]the accession of the present sovereign,
that Lady Conyngham, and the man from whom she derives the right of
being so entitled, together with their offspring, received an intimation
that their presence was no longer desirable at Windsor Castle, from
which they departed, in consequence, amid the ridicule and scorn of the
empire.

It was an interesting period for an American to be in London, that of
the death of one king, and the accession of another; and, as such events
are not of every-day occurrence, we esteemed ourselves particularly
fortunate in being on the spot at the time. The various ceremonies
consequent upon them,—the lying in state,—the
obsequies,—the proclamation,—the prorogation of Parliament,
and so forth, were well worth witnessing; but, by far the most
interesting result they produced, was the general election which
followed the dissolution of the legislature. We were enabled, through
the kindness of a gentleman who was a candidate, to study the whole
process of an election in a free borough, having accompanied him, at his
invitation, to the scene of political strife, and remained there until
the contest was brought to a close. By occupying a few pages with an
account of it, we may, perhaps, communicate some degree of information
and pleasure to a portion of our readers, without being guilty of too
wide a digression.

The two first days subsequently to our arrival in the town, were
spent in visiting those persons whose suffrages were not ascertained at
the time when the candidates made their canvass, two or three weeks
before, that is to say,—called personally upon every one who
possessed a vote, and requested his support. In this, there is no
mincing of the matter in the least,—the suffrage is openly asked,
and as openly promised or refused; but it is only among the more
respectable class, that this ceremonial is sufficient,—the others
“thank their God they have a vote to sell.” On the third day, the
election commenced. Two temporary covered buildings had been erected
near each other in the principal part of the town, in one of which were
the hustings and the polls, and the other was employed for the sittings
of a species of court, where the qualifications of suspected voters were
tried. About nine in the morning, the candidates, three in number,
proceeded to the former booth, if we may so term it, and, after the
settlement of the necessary preliminaries, were proposed and seconded as
representatives of the borough, in the order in which they stood on the
hustings. These were partitioned into three divisions,—one
belonging to each of the opposing gentlemen,—which were crowded
with their respective friends. Directly below the hustings, which were
considerably elevated, was a table, round which were seated the poll
clerks, and others officially connected with the election. This was
separated [Pg
333]by a board running across the building, from the polls,
which were also divided into three parts, or boxes, corresponding with
the divisions of the hustings. All the proposers and seconders made
speeches, as well as the candidates,—and nothing could surpass the
amusing nature of the scene during the discourses of two of the
haranguers, who were particularly obnoxious to a large portion of the
assembled crowd. They were saluted with a vast variety of gentle
epithets, and almost every method of annoyance and interruption was put
in practice. After the speechification was concluded, the polling
commenced. It was done by tallies. The committee of each candidate,
marshalled in succession ten of their friends at a time, who appeared in
the box belonging to their party, and, on being asked, one after
another, for whom they voted, gave, vivâ voce, either a plumper for one,
or split their vote amongst two of the candidates. This system was
regularly prosecuted, until the diminished numbers of one of the
parties, rendered it difficult to collect ten men in time, when as many
as could be brought together, were sent in. On the last day of the
election, not more than one vote was polled in an hour in one of the
boxes.

The candidates were obliged to remain in their places on the
hustings, day after day, from the opening until the closing of the
polls, and thank aloud every one who gave them a vote. At the end of
every day’s polling, the three gentlemen made speeches, all pretty much
of the same purport, expressing their thanks for the support they had
received, and their perfect confidence of ultimate success. There were
not more than six or seven hundred voters in the town; and yet, for
eight days, was the contest carried on. On the ninth, one of the parties
retired from the field, and the other two were declared duly elected;
after which they were chaired. The reason of this protraction, was owing
in part to the unavoidable slowness of vivâ voce voting, but chiefly to
the number of votes objected to, by persons whose occupation it was to
point out every flaw they could discover in the qualifications of those
who appeared at the polls. One of those persons was in the employ of
each candidate, and, as the struggle was close and somewhat acrimonious,
objections were made on the slightest possible grounds, which were
furnished in abundance, by the variety of circumstances that
disqualified a man for voting in that borough. Whenever an objection was
made, the objector stated the cause of it; and, having written it down
on a piece of paper, handed it to the voter objected to, who repaired
with it to the other booth. Here, having shown it to the assessor, or
judge, who was invested with unlimited power to decide upon every
question of qualification, he was tried in his turn. This was by far the
more interesting and amusing of the two booths. The trial was conducted
[Pg
334]in regular form. The accused, so to call him, was placed
at the bar of the court, where he was cross-questioned, and confronted
with friendly and adverse witnesses; and then the lawyers in attendance,
who had been respectively largely feed by the several candidates,
pleaded for, or against his qualifications, according as he was a
friend, or not, of their employer. When the arguments were finished, the
assessor either rejected his vote, or sent him back to the polls with a
certificate of qualification, which he exhibited, and had his suffrage
recorded. In some instances, the trials were speedily despatched; but,
generally, they occupied a considerable space of time, so that when the
polls were finally closed, there were at least a hundred names on the
books of the court, of persons who were yet to be arraigned.

It would require more space than is at our disposal, to enter
into any detail of the odd speeches which were made, and the
various scenes, laughable and serious, that occurred during the
course of the election. For the same reason, we cannot dwell
upon the observations which are naturally excited by the whole
matter; but, we may remark, that we became fully satisfied,
that frequent Parliaments, with the present election system,
would be one of the greatest evils which could be inflicted on
England. The seldomer, certainly, that such sluices of varied
corruption are opened, the better. Here was a whole town
for weeks in a state of the worst kind of commotion,—almost
all the usual labours of the lower classes were suspended;
unrestricted freedom of access to taverns and alehouses, at the
expense of those who were courting their sweet voices, was
afforded them; and some idea may be formed of the use that was
made of it, from the fact that the bill brought to one of the
candidates, by the keeper of an inn, for a single night’s debauch,
amounted to nearly a hundred pounds sterling. At the
bar of the court where the qualifications were examined, abundant
evidence was given, that this indirect species of bribery
was not the only kind which was in operation. The intense
eagerness manifested by the greater part of those to whose votes
objections had been made, to obtain a decision of the assessor
in their favour,—the quantity and grossness of the falsehoods
they uttered, in order to effect that object, rendered palpable
the existence of some very potent motive for desiring the
possession of a suffrage. That these evils are to be attributed
mainly to the vivâ voce mode of voting, we have little doubt,
and, assuredly, the tree which produces such fruit, cannot be
sound. But, we feel no desire to involve ourselves in a discussion
concerning the best system of election, which has been
debated usque ad nauseam, and we shall therefore return to
our proper subject.

[Pg
335]There are various pictures afforded by the different
portions of the career of his late Majesty, which it may be of the
highest benefit for republican Americans to contemplate. It was
beautifully said by Sheridan, in one of the most brilliant of his
speeches, that Bonaparte was an instrument in the hands of Providence to
make the English love their constitution better; cling to it with more
fondness; hang round it with more tenderness: and in the same way we may
affirm that such kings as George IV. are eminently calculated to
strengthen our attachment to the republican institutions of this
country. The history of their lives furnishes that gross evidence of the
absurdities involved in the doctrine of hereditary right, which cannot
fail to disgust and revolt. It presents the spectacle of a ruler the
least fitted to rule. It proves that princes, from the very circumstance
of being princes, are the least likely to be able to execute those
duties which devolve upon them, with efficiency or
conscientiousness—that the situation in which they are placed by
their birth, nullifies the very reason for which their order was first
established, and renders them a curse instead of a blessing. What was
the source from which royal privileges and authority first flowed? Was
it not the superiority in various ways of the persons who were invested
with them, and which caused them to be considered as pre-eminently
qualified to discharge the functions incumbent on a king? And is not the
name of king at present, a by-word for inferiority in every respect in
which inferiority is degrading? Every deficiency indeed of talent,
knowledge, virtue, is regarded so much as a matter of course in a
personage of royal station, that the slightest proof of the possession
of either, which in an humbler individual would just be sufficient to
screen him from remark, is cried up as something wonderful. Think of a
king being able to quote a Latin line, or make a speech of ten minutes
in length!—the boast of Mr. Croly with regard to George IV. Such
an unusual occurrence is deemed almost incredible, and many persons,
even among his own subjects, will firmly believe that neither feat was
performed in consequence of original information and faculties, but
resulted from the suggestions of another.

But by far the most important light in which we republicans can
contemplate the career of George IV. in connexion with the object of
increasing our love for the institutions under which we live, is that of
morality and religion. The point may be conceded, which is always
advanced as the main argument in support of hereditary monarchical
government—that it is better adapted to preserve the peace of a
country by keeping the succession free from difficulty and doubt, though
a reference to history may perhaps warrant the denial even of this
position, by exhibiting the various usurpations, murders, unnatural
rebellions [Pg
336]of children against parents, and other heart-sickening
crimes, the consequences of the right invested in one family of
exercising sovereign rule, which have so often plunged whole nations
into misery and blood;—but this point may be acknowledged; we may
admit that elections of chief magistrates are more likely to be the
source of frequent troubles. If it can nevertheless be shown, that there
is that in the very essence of monarchical institutions which is in any
way hostile to virtue, the question ought to be considered as settled in
favour of the system that is free from this insuperable objection; for
it cannot be denied, that any principle at all tending to aid the
propagation of immorality, is the worst which can be admitted into the
social and political compacts by which men are united together, and
should most be deprecated and eschewed. No matter what apparent or real
beneficial results may flow from it, they cannot counterbalance the
detriment it may inflict upon the surest guarantee of permanent good to
man, both in his individual and aggregate capacity—both with
regard to his temporal and eternal interests. National happiness and
prosperity of a durable character, are inseparable from national virtue.
The evils produced by dissensions concerning the chief power in a state,
are in a degree contingent and temporary; those engendered by immorality
are certain and lasting. Let then the pages, not merely of the book
which tells the story of George IVth of England, but of all history be
consulted, and who will deny that they furnish overwhelming evidence
that the moral atmosphere of courts has been at all times tainted and
baleful; that they have been ever the centres of corruption and vice,
and that they must ever be so? They must ever be so, we assert, because
the natural and unavoidable result of raising any collection of persons
above the opinion, as it were, of the rest of the world, and of
surrounding them with a species of prestige which prevents their
vices and follies from being viewed in their real hideousness, is to
ensure amongst them the sway of immorality. They thus form a sanctuary
for corruption, which can never be established in a country where no
factitious distinctions exist; there profligacy can have no refuge when
hard pressed by public opinion, no ramparts behind which to protect
itself from the assaults of that potent enemy; and it will never in
consequence be able to obtain there any other than individual
dominion.

If we turn our eyes upon the condition of the English court as it now
exists, although it may be less exceptionable than when George was at
its head, we shall find sufficient justification of the foregoing
remarks. The present sovereign, it is well known, is unfortunate in
possessing a mind of that nervous description, which renders any
considerable excitement a thing to be avoided; it was the effect
produced upon it by his appointment to the [Pg 337]Lord High Admiraltyship
during his brother’s life, which occasioned his removal from that post.
His moral character is certainly less disreputable than that of his
predecessor; but who can witness, without feelings akin to disgust, the
spectacle of a family of illegitimate offspring exalted in the palace,
and following him in all his perambulations? It is far from our wish to
cast any reflection upon those unfortunate persons, who are in no way
accountable for the ignominy and guilt connected with their birth. The
shame and the reproach are for the author of the stain, who exposes
himself to double reprehension, by the countenance he virtually lends to
the cause of immorality. William IV., however, is a paragon in
comparison to his next brother, the Duke of Cumberland, a person, who,
if he has given any warrant for the tenth part of the imputations which
rest upon him, can only have escaped the penalties inflicted by the law
on the greatest offences, because he is the brother of the king. We
cannot convey a better idea of the estimation in which he is held in
London, than by stating, that in all the caricatures where an attempt is
made to embody the evil spirit, his person is used for that purpose.

These considerations, we repeat, are well adapted to promote the
important object to which we have alluded, of causing our institutions
to be properly appreciated and loved by ourselves. This is the great
desideratum with respect to them—the chief thing necessary for
their preservation. Our situation now is more enviable than that of any
country of the earth; and all which is requisite is, that we should be
aware of our own happiness, and rightly understand the source from which
it springs—the republican form of government. Let us be thoroughly
impressed with the conviction of the superior efficacy of this system
over every other, in promoting the end for which political societies
were instituted, and we are safe. We will then be furnished with the
best defence against the principal enemy from which danger need be
dreaded,—we mean that propensity to change, which is one of the
common infirmities of the human breast,—that restlessness which
renders the life of man a scene of constant struggle, tends to prevent
him from estimating and enjoying the blessings he possesses, and often
causes him to dash away with his own rash hand, the cup of happiness
from his lips. “Our complexion,” says Burke, “is such, that we are
palled with enjoyment, and stimulated with hope,—that we become
less sensible to a long-possessed benefit, from the very circumstance
that it is become habitual. Specious, untried, ambiguous prospects of
new advantage, recommend themselves [Pg 338]to the spirit of
adventure, which more or less prevails in every mind. From this temper,
men and factions, and nations too, have sacrificed the good of which
they had been in assured possession, in favour of wild and irrational
expectations.” To be satisfied, is, indeed, we fear, difficult for human
nature, even where there is no good to be reached beyond what we already
have obtained. A great object, in such case, is to be convinced that
there is no such good to be acquired—to suppose that we have
arrived at the utmost boundaries of mortal felicity.

Nothing, however, that we have advanced as fitted to aid that object,
inasmuch as it respects our political condition, is of such influence
for its accomplishment, as the contemplation of the actual state of the
European world. When the tempest howls without, the domestic hearth is
invested with a doubly inviting aspect; we gather round it with
eagerness, in proportion to the dismal appearance of external nature,
and bless it for the security which it affords from the rage of the
heavens. Should we not, in like manner, embrace with redoubled fondness,
the institutions which maintain us in prosperity and peace, now,
especially, whilst we are enabled to behold the fearful operation of the
consequences of monarchical rule—the horrors in which they are
involving the fairest and most civilized portions of the globe; and when
we know, too, that the motive which inspired the inhabitants of those
countries with courage to encounter the storm, by which they are tossed
about on the sea of revolution, was the hope of being driven by it into
some haven like that which shelters us from the fury of winds and waves?
When, if ever, they will attain to the possession of the blessings which
we enjoy,—how all the troubles by which they are agitated will
end, is what no human ken is competent to discern; but the
philanthropist and the Christian need never despair. Out of chaos came
this beautiful world; and the same Being who called it into existence,
still watches over its concerns,—is still as potent to convert
obscurity into brightness, as when He first said, “Let there be light,”
and there was light!

[Pg
339]Art. III.—Essay on
the Hieroglyphic System of M. Champollion, Jr. and the advantages which
it offers to sacred criticism. By J. G. H.
Greppo, Vicar-General of Belley. Translated from the French
by Isaac Stuart, with notes and
illustrations. Boston: pp. 276.

In former numbers of this journal, there are several
articles devoted to the subject of Egyptian hieroglyphics, particularly
as connected with the labours of Mons. Champollion. Every day seems to
give opportunity of additional observation, by furnishing new and
interesting facts. How much further the investigations may be carried,
it would be unsafe even to conjecture; but, in the present state of
things, we are fully authorized to consider the problem of hieroglyphics
as at last solved, and such general principles established, as must
render subsequent investigations comparatively easy. Every age seems to
be productive of some great genius peculiarly adapted to the
accomplishment of some great design, connected either with the
advancement of learning, or the melioration of the moral condition of
mankind. The present appears fruitful of great men, and France,
particularly favoured, whether we regard the great political events
which have called out the most gigantic exhibitions of practical wisdom,
or look at the onward march of science, which seems in no wise impeded,
by convulsions which scatter every thing but science, like the yellow
leaves of autumn. Let us not, however, be diverted from our
object,—the sober investigation of a sober subject, alike deeply
interesting to the philologer, the student of history, and the inquirer
into the sacred truths connected with divine revelation.

The work which stands at the head of this article, purports to be an
investigation of the hieroglyphic system developed in the published
works of Mons. Champollion, Jr. and the advantage which it offers to
sacred criticism. It is the performance of a clergyman of the Roman
Catholic Church, J. G. H. Greppo, Vicar-General of Belley. The original
work, however, is not before us. We examine it through the medium of a
translation made by Mr. Isaac Stuart, son of the Rev. Moses Stuart, one
of the most eminent scholars of our country, who vouches for the
accuracy of the translation, having inspected the whole, and compared it
with the original. Dr. Stuart has added some notes, where he has seen
occasion to differ from Mr. Greppo, on some points of Hebrew philology
and criticism. The reasons for his difference of opinion are given with
that candour for which the writer is distinguished, and the intelligent
reader is left to judge as to the merits of the question.

It is well known to the learned, that Mons. Champollion, the [Pg
340]younger, has been spending several years in the
uninterrupted study of the Egyptian hieroglyphics. In his capacity of
Professor of History at Grenoble, he found his labours embarrassed by
the immense hiatus which occurs in Egyptian history, and, to the filling
up of this, he set himself to work with all the zeal and energy which
genius could inspire. In this work, he had the advantage of youth, and a
very superior education in the Coptic and other oriental languages,
connected with a patience of investigation, which appears almost
miraculous. He had the advantage of knowing, moreover, that, if ever any
just conclusion was to be gained, he must seek it by getting some
starting point, different from that whence all his predecessors had set
out. There had been a variety of learned men whose investigations were
directed to this point, such as Father Kircher the Jesuit, whose
different works on Egyptian antiquities had been successively published
in Rome, from 1636 to 1652—Warburton, the highly gifted author of
the Divine Legation of Moses, the learned Count de Gebelin, and others
of equal and less name. But these had all confessedly failed, and the
learned almost gave up the subject in despair, so much so, that
Champollion himself, states it as the only opinion which appeared to be
well established among them, viz. “that it was impossible ever to
acquire that knowledge which had hitherto been sought with great labour,
and in vain.”

In the midst of these discouragements, a circumstance occurred,
familiar probably to our readers, but to which we allude merely to
observe, that it seemed at once to open a new era of investigation, and
is among the many evidences of the fact, that events of apparently the
most inconsiderable description, are connected with results whose
magnitude cannot be estimated. At the close of the last century, while
the French troops were engaged in the prosecution of the war in Egypt,
it is well known, that a number of learned men were associated with the
expedition, for the prosecution of purposes far more honourable than
those of human conquest,—we mean the exploration of a hitherto
sealed country, with the express design of advancing the arts and
sciences. One division of the army occupied the village of
Raschid, otherwise called Rosetta; and, while they were
employed in digging the foundation for a fort, they found a block of
black basalt, in a mutilated condition, bearing a portion of three
inscriptions, one of which was in the Egyptian hieroglyphics. The fate
of the military expedition, lost to the French the possession of this
stone, as it fell into the hands of the British, by the capitulation of
Alexandria; it was afterward conveyed to London, and placed in the
British museum. Previously to the termination of the war, however, the
stone and its characters had been correctly delineated by the artists
connected with the commission, [Pg 341]and then, through the medium of an
engraving, placed in possession of the learned. This is a brief history
of the Rosetta stone, as it is called, but still it baffled the
investigations of the learned. They had gone upon the supposition, that
the hieroglyphic method of writing must, of necessity, be
ideographic, i. e. figurative or symbolical, and that each of
these signs was the expression of an idea. Here appears to have been the
great root of all their mistakes on the subject, mistakes naturally
fallen into by the moderns, inasmuch as the few incidental passages left
on the subject in the writings of the ancients, all recognized this as a
fact. Except Clement of Alexandria, one of the fathers of the church,
not a solitary writer had left on record any other opinion; and the
passage of Clement has itself never been understood, until since the
discoveries of Champollion. It seems to be one of those curious facts
connected with the history of the human mind, that it requires a great
intellect to seize on the simplest element of truth. It is easy to
speculate on data, which are assumed without a rigorous examination, and
then to make an exhibition of learning which may astonish the world;
but, it is the province of the greatest genius to lay hold of simple
truth, and establish a foundation utterly immoveable, before there is
any attempt at a superstructure. This was the business, and this the
achievement of Champollion. Now that the discovery is made, we are
amazed at the want of previous penetration. It struck the mind of
Champollion, that, if the Egyptian hieroglyphics were
ideographic, there must be exceptions, for two substantial
reasons: first, because proper names, or names of persons, do not
always admit of being expressed by any sign, that is, proper names have
not in all cases a meaning; and, second, because foreign names,
or those which have no relation to any particular spoken language, could
not be represented by conventional signs. These principles appear now to
be self-evident, and this is the basis of Champollion’s discovery. On
this he built the idea, that there must exist among the Egyptians
alphabetic characters, which should express the sounds of
the spoken language; and, in order to test this principle, he set about
the investigation of the celebrated Rosetta stone. This stone, let it be
remembered, had on it three inscriptions in different characters.
One of these inscriptions was written in Greek, and of course easily
decyphered; of the other two, one was written in hieroglyphics, and the
other in the common character of the country. The course pursued by
Champollion, was exceedingly simple, and, on that account, may be
considered masterly. In the Greek text, the name of Ptolemy occurred,
together with some names which were foreign to the Egyptian language. In
the hieroglyphic inscription, there were certain signs grouped together
and frequently repeated; and, what rendered them remarkable [Pg 342]was,
that they were enclosed in a kind of oval or ring, called a cartouche,
and maintained a relative position which seemed to correspond with the
Greek word Ptolemy. Champollion conjectured, that there must be some
connection between the signs clustered in these rings, and the name of
Ptolemy expressed by signs, which would sound like that word; and
this led him to expect, that he would get at what he was persuaded was
the truth, viz. that the hieroglyphic writing was alphabetic,
rather than exclusively ideographic. With the view of testing
this, he went into a close analysis of the group of signs which he
supposed designated the name of Ptolemy; and, as the result of this
analysis, obtained what he considered the equivalents to the letters in
the name of this prince.

In order to give our readers an idea of his process of investigation,
we will state the signs which he found in the group surrounded by a ring
on the Rosetta stone. These are the following: a square—half
circle—a flower with the stem bent—a lion in
repose—the three sides of a parallelogram—two feathers, and
a crooked line. The square, Champollion considered the equivalent of the
Greek letter Π—the half circle, Τ—the flower with the stem
bent, Ο—the lion in repose, Λ—the three sides of the
parallelogram, Μ—the feathers, Η,—and the crooked line, Σ.
This gave the name Ptolmês. At this stage of his investigations,
Champollion supposed that he had obtained seven signs of an alphabet;
but, could he have gone no further, he would have established nothing,
and his researches would have passed off with the labours of the learned
who had preceded him. To test his principle further, it was necessary,
therefore, that he should be able to get at some other monument, on
which there should be recognized some name also known by some Greek or
other connected inscription. Such a monument was found in an obelisk
discovered in the island of Philæ, and transported to London. On this
was discovered a group of characters also enclosed in a ring, and
containing more signs than the former, some of them similar. On a part
of the base which originally supported the obelisk, there was an
inscription in Greek, addressed to Ptolemy and Cleopatra.
Now, if the basis of Champollion was correct, there ought to be found in
the name Cleopatra, such signs as were common to both, and they must
perform the same functions which had been previously assigned them; and
this was precisely the result. We have this strikingly set forth in a
note of the translator, which is here presented.

These were great advances, and our readers will now easily understand
the process by which the distinguished discoverer arrived at his
results. Step by step, he has thus been able to form his phonetic
alphabet. In September, 1822, he gave an account of his discovery,
and of the principles of his system, in a letter to Mons. Dacier,
perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Inscriptions, and of Belles
Lettres. In 1824, Champollion published the first edition of his work,
“Précis du système hièroglyphique des anciens Egyptiens, ou recherches
sur les elémens premiers de cette ecriture sacrée, &c.” This is the
work which is reviewed in the number of this journal for June, 1827, p.
438. In the year 1828, a second edition of this work was called for, and
this second edition is rendered more valuable, by having appended to it
the letter to Mons. Dacier.

It is not the purpose of the present article, to go into an account
of the results of Champollion’s labours;—this has been amply done
in preceding pages of this journal. The essay of Mons. Greppo, gave us a
favourable opportunity, following the course of the author, of stating
in brief, the process by which Champollion arrived at his most valuable
and interesting conclusions. The object of the essay is to show the
advantages which this discovery gives to the study of sacred criticism.
[Pg
344]This is the special aim of the work; and, in relation to
this, the author has observed:;—

The Essay of Mons. Greppo is composed of two parts, the first of
which is an explanation of the hieroglyphic system of Champollion; and
the second, the application of the hieroglyphic system to the
elucidation of the sacred writings. The relations of the Hebrews with
the Egyptians were such, that the history of the latter cannot be
otherwise than most intimately connected with the religion of the Bible.
In fact, there was no country in the world, foreign to Judea, whose name
is so conspicuous in the Bible, as that of Egypt; beginning at the time
of Abraham, and going down to the very Apostolic age; and it hence
follows, that he who would study in detail, the historic annals of the
Hebrews, ought to be as fully acquainted with those of ancient Egypt, as
the largest means will allow. In carrying out his intention, M. Greppo
has gone deeply into philological, historical, chronological, and
geographical considerations. By making the “précis” of Champollion the
basis of his argument, and bringing in to his assistance the labours of
the elder Champollion, called by way of distinction Champollion Figeac,
from the place of his residence; he has investigated the history of the
Pharaohs, as connected with the accounts given in the books of Genesis
and Exodus, and the later historical writings.

In the fourth chapter of the second part, there is an interesting
discussion relative to the difficulty of reconciling the position taken
in Exodus, as to the perishing of Pharaoh, with the conclusions drawn
from the investigations of Champollion. The last Pharaoh of the Exodus,
is ascertained to be the King Amenophis Ramses. According to
Manetho, he reigned twenty years; viz. from 1493 B. C., to 1473 B. C.,
so calculated also by Champollion Figeac. But the departure of the
children of [Pg
345]Israel took place about the year 1491 B. C., consequently
in the second or third year of this Prince. If this Prince perished in
the Red Sea, how can this be reconciled with the fact, that Manetho
states him to have reigned twenty years, and this is confirmed by the
calculations of the elder Champollion. M. Greppo goes into an
interesting discussion, to prove that the text of the Book of Exodus
does not state that Pharaoh perished in the Red Sea. His examination of
the sacred text will be interesting to many of our readers:

Mons. Greppo appears to be aware, that there are difficulties
attending his interpretation, arising out of the apparent positive
declarations contained in other parts of the sacred volume: for
instance, in Ex. ch. xv. 19th v., as also Ps. cxxxvi. 15th v. His answer
to these objections, and some collateral arguments by which he
endeavours to support his theory, are too long to be here introduced.
Professor Stuart, in a learned note, part of which we feel compelled to
quote, dissents from the reasoning of Mons. Greppo, and takes the safer
course of leaving to further discoveries, what, in the present state of
the researches, may not yet be considered as definitely settled.

The fifth and sixth chapters of the work of Mons. Greppo, are devoted
to the examination of the history of the Pharaohs mentioned in the
sacred writings, down to the time of Solomon, and of the other kings of
Egypt, who are distinguished by proper names.

The seventh chapter is devoted to the chronology of Manetho, the
official historiographer of Egypt; and several questions are discussed,
which relate to the difference between him, and the scripture
chronologers. In the close of the chapter, the author draws two
conclusions, which we are disposed to think entirely justified by the
present state of the investigations—these conclusions will be
better stated in the author’s own words:—

In the eighth chapter of his essay, Mons. Greppo applies the
discoveries of Champollion to the Egyptian geography, so far as the
scriptures are concerned. If it be true, as he conceives, that the city
of Rameses occupied the site of the Arabian city, now called Ramsis,
there seems to be an irreconcilable difference with some of the
scripture relations; for this city, Ramsis, is on the western
side of the river Nile, and not less than one hundred and fifty miles
from that position on the Red Sea, where it is believed that the passage
of the Israelites was made. However the question may eventually be
settled, it appears to us, that this location can in no sense consist
with the text of the sacred writings; for, in the first place, it would
have required that the Israelites should have crossed the Nile, on their
journey towards Palestine. Of this there is no account; neither had they
any means; and it would have required a miraculous interposition to
enable them so to do. But, second, the sacred text informs us, that, at
the close of the second day after the departure of the Israelites from
Rameses, they reached the borders [Pg 348]of the Red Sea. It is
utterly impossible that they could have crossed the Nile, and travelled
one hundred and fifty miles in two days. It is beyond all rational
calculation to suppose that they could have travelled at the rate of
more than twenty miles per day, and, consequently, we must look for the
situation of Rameses at a distance not greater certainly than forty
miles from the Red Sea, and on the eastern side of the Nile. If the
integrity of the sacred writings is to be preserved, the idea that the
Rameses of the Bible, and the Ramsis of the Arabians are identical, must
be abandoned, or, at any rate, not adopted until something far more
conclusive shall be found, than has yet been given. Professor Stuart, in
a note which we have above condensed, refers to a previous work of his,
where this subject is more largely discussed, and which, as it may not
be familiar to the mass of our readers, being a work distinctly
connected with theological studies, will be referred to for a moment. In
this work, the Professor enters largely into the examination of the
location of Rameses, which stands also for Goshen. He considers, and
with vast power of argument and illustration, that the royal residence
of the Pharaohs at the time of Joseph and Moses, was at Zoan, and not
Memphis, as has been generally supposed. There can be no question, that
Zoan was one of the oldest cities of Lower Egypt, and situated on the
eastern shore of the second or Tanitic mouth of the Nile, and this was
but a little distance from the Pelusiac or eastern branch, on which the
residence of the Israelites has generally been supposed to have been. It
was an extensive city, and its ruins in the time of the French
expedition, occupied an extensive country. Champollion has remarked that
the word signifies, “mollis, delicatus, jucundus,” which would make Zoan
to mean Pleasant town. The reader will be interested to observe, that,
in Ps. lxxviii, the writer alludes to Zoan, as the scenes of the
miracles of Moses: also Ps. v. verse 12, and also lxxii. verse 43. In
the time of Isaiah, it is quite clear, that Zoan was the place where the
Egyptian court resided, at least for a time. See ch. xix. verse 11.
There are objections to this view of Professor Stuart, but not stronger,
than to others; and the most probable is, that the kings of Egypt had
different places of royal residence, as is still customary. We know that
Cyrus, after conquering Babylon, spent part of his time there, and part
at the capital of his native country.

Contrary, therefore, to the opinion of Mons. Greppo, Professor Stuart
considers Rameses or Goshen, to be decidedly on the eastern side of the
Nile, and this is rendered more certain, if, as the Professor has
attempted to prove, Zoan was frequently a royal residence of the
Pharaohs. The opinion taken by Mons. Greppo, that Rameses was on the
western side of the [Pg 349]Nile, in what may be called Lower
Eastern Egypt, without the delta, is refuted in Michaelis Supp. ad
Lex. Hebraica, p. 397. We make no pretentions to the ability of
settling these disputed points, and consider it perfectly safe to abide
by the present general idea, as to the location of Rameses, especially
as there is nothing yet in the shape of positive testimony against it.
The reader who is particularly interested in Biblical Archæology, will be highly
gratified by consulting the work of Dr. Stuart, entitled—”Course
of Hebrew Study.” In the ninth chapter of his Essay, the author has made
use of the discoveries of Champollion, to defeat certain objections to
the genuineness and authenticity of the Books of Moses, which were
started by Voltaire and others of his time. The high antiquity of the
Pentateuch was doubted, on the ground that writing in the common
language could not then have been known. Champollion has decyphered a
manuscript, which contains an act of the fifth year of the reign of
Thouthmosis III. This prince governed Egypt at a time when Joseph was
carried there as a slave, and this was at least two hundred years
previous to the time in which Moses wrote the Pentateuch.

An objection to the truth of the history of the Pentateuch, also,
arose out of the circumstance, that the magnificence and excellence of
the work said there to have been put upon the ark and its furniture in
the wilderness, was utterly beyond the state of the arts at the time
challenged in the relation. The discoveries of Champollion have
overthrown a supposition which had been held almost indisputable,
viz:—that the arts of Egypt had been indebted for their progress,
to the influence of those from Greece under the domination of the Lagidæ
kings. He has established the contrary, beyond doubt, and has proved
that the most brilliant epoch of the arts in Egypt, was under a dynasty
contemporary with the sojourn of the Israelites in Egypt.

The only remaining objection which is noticed by the author, is one
which he considers as capable of receiving the same satisfactory
solution.

It is objected that the name of Sesostris is not mentioned in
Scripture, nor any feature of his history recognised. To this, the
investigations made by Champollion and the calculations of Champollion
Figeac are made to answer. The commencement of the reign of Sesostris is
fixed by these, in the year 1473, B. C.; consequently, this was
seventeen or eighteen years after the departure of the Israelites from
Egypt. While they were wandering in the wilderness, Sesostris overran
Palestine, which was then in possession of its primitive inhabitants,
and before the Israelites reached that land, the expedition of Sesostris
had long passed, for Diodorus tells us, that it terminated in the ninth
year of his reign. The silence of Scripture, therefore, as to Sesostris,
[Pg
350]is in no wise remarkable, as the people of Israel had no
connexion with him, either as friend or foe.

The tenth chapter of the Essay, relates to the Egyptian Zodiacs. To
our readers who have examined the subject at all, the history of these
is now familiar,—the curious may turn to the Number of this
Journal for December, 1827, p. 520, where will be found an ample
description.

We have thus given a detailed description of the Essay of Mons.
Greppo, and we cannot resist the pleasure before we close, of presenting
the few remarks with which he concludes his discussion.

We have ventured upon this protracted notice of the Essay of Mons.
Greppo, because the subject itself is one of gratifying pursuit even to
the mere scholar, but still more because it is vitally connected with
the evidences of revealed religion in which we hope that none of our
readers are altogether uninterested. There is in the Essay, no question
as to any of the minor points of the Christian faith,—there is
here nothing but what all may peruse with satisfaction. The question is
one entirely connected with evidence; and science and literature are
pressed fairly into the service of truth. The work is peculiarly
valuable, because it is the only work connected with the labours of
Champollion which has been made to wear an English dress. The works of
both the Champollions are locked up in a foreign language from most of
our readers; and we fear that the time will not soon come when there
will be sufficient encouragement either to translate or publish in this
country the splendid volumes of these brothers, who are, by their
discoveries, raising up for France the gratitude of the world. Until
there shall be liberality enough in our republic of letters, to enable
us to possess these works, with all their riches of illustration, and
thus have ancient Egypt brought to the inspection of American eyes, we
would recommend the work of Mons. Greppo, as the best, and indeed only
substitute at present known, always excepting the pages of our own
journal.

It is needless to say, that the merits of the translation cannot be
questioned, after the testimonials furnished by the learned Dr. Stuart;
without the advantage of comparing it with the original, we can speak of
its excellence relatively, for the style is clear, concise, and
classical.

[Pg
352]Art. IV.—IRON.

The discussion contained in the petitions and legislative
reports which we have prefixed to this article, is one of the most
powerful interest, not merely to those concerned in the manufacture of
iron, and the articles of commerce of which it is the material, but to
the whole community. Iron, if the cheapest and most abundant, is
intrinsically the most valuable of the metals. It may supersede, and
gradually has, in its applications, superseded the greater part of the
rest, and has taken the place of wood and stone in a great variety of
mechanical structures; it is indispensable in the modern arts of the
attack and defence of nations; and its possession is the distinctive
difference between civilized man and the savage. Well was it said to
Crœsus exhibiting his golden treasures, that he who possessed more
iron, would speedily make himself master of them, and the truth of the
maxim was even more powerfully verified, when the accumulated riches of
the Aztecs and Incas were acquired at the cost of a few pounds of Toledo
steel.

When we compare the state of manners and arts of the Mexicans and
Peruvians with that of their Spanish conquerors, we are almost compelled
to admit, that the possession of iron was [Pg 353]perhaps the only real
superiority in civilization which the latter possessed. Gunpowder played
but a small part in the contests where handfuls of men routed myriads;
the courage of the Indian warrior is not less firm than that of the
descendant of the Goths.

The sciences and arts which are now the boast of European
civilization, were then but awakening from a slumber of ages; in the
latter, the workmanship of Europe was in many instances inferior to that
of the new world, and in the former, to take as an instance that which
occupies the highest place, astronomy, the civil year of the Mexicans
was intercalated and restored to the solar, by a process more perfect
than that we even now employ; and the latter was not introduced into
Europe until half a century after the throne of Montezuma fell. The
bloody human sacrifices which excited to such a degree the abhorrence of
the conquerors, were not greater marks of savage cruelty, than were
their own auto da fes, and the tortures inflicted on Guatemozin.
Yet if not superior in bravery, in the arts, the sciences, and the more
distinctive attribute of civilization, humanity, the possession of iron
was sufficient to ensure the triumph of the Spaniards.

Of all the metallurgic arts, that by which iron is prepared from its
ores, demands the greatest degree of practical skill, and is the most
difficult to bring to perfection. Although ages have elapsed since it
first became an object of human industry, its manipulation and
preparation are yet receiving improvements, while those of the other
ancient metals appear hardly susceptible of modification or advancement.
Copper and its alloys, tin, lead, and mercury, were as well and as
cheaply prepared by the ancients as by the moderns; and the reduction of
the precious metals has received no important change, since the process
of amalgamation was first applied to them,—while the preparation
of iron is daily improving under our eyes, and its cost diminishing. It
may even be doubted whether the iron we first find mentioned in history,
was an artificial product, and not obtained from the rare masses in
which it is found existing in the native state, and which are supposed
to be of meteoric origin.

The original use of iron is ascribed in the sacred writings to Tubal
Cain, who lived before the flood;—but we have no proof that he did
not employ a native iron of this description. Be this as it may, the
united testimony of antiquity exhibits to us an alloy of copper used for
the purposes to which we apply iron, and the latter metal as
comparatively scarce, and of high value. The qualities of iron were
known and appreciated, but the art of preparing it was not understood.
The reason is obvious; those ores of iron which have an external
metallic aspect, are difficult of fusion and reduction, those which are
more readily converted, are dull, earthy in their appearance, and
unlikely to [Pg
354]attract attention,—while gold and silver manifest
in their native state their brilliant characters, and the ores of copper
and lead exhibit a higher degree of lustre than the metals
themselves.

If, then, history does not show us the ancient nations employing iron
for their arms and instruments, it is because they were unable to
prepare it. Even in the middle ages, we find copper in use for arms,
because the nations that employed it, could not conquer the difficulties
that attend the preparation of iron.

The books of Moses, however, show that iron was known at that era to
the Egyptians, and the distinction he draws between it and brass, seems
in favour of our view of the origin of that which was then employed. The
stones of the promised land were to be iron, but brass was to be dug
from the hills. Twelve hundred years before Christ, if we receive the
testimony of Homer, who, if he be rejected as an historian, must still
be admitted as a faithful painter of manners. The Greeks used an alloy
of copper for their arms, but were unacquainted with iron, which they
estimated of much higher value.

&c.      Iliad, Book
XXIII, 1. 826.

From this passage and the following lines, we learn the two-fold
fact: 1. That a mass of iron of no greater weight than could be used as
a quoit, by a man of great strength, was esteemed of sufficient value to
be cited as an important article in the spoil of a prince: 2. That its
use was confined to agricultural purposes, and not applied in war. Hence
the more valuable form steel, and its tempering, were unknown.

Five hundred years later, Lycurgus attempted to introduce the use of
iron, as money, into Sparta. The reasons usually cited for this act, do
not seem to apply; and we ought not to accuse that lawgiver of the want
of knowledge in political economy that is usually ascribed to him, in
endeavouring to give a base material a conventional value to which it
was not entitled. The iron was still, probably, more costly than brass,
and the error of Lycurgus did not lie in ascribing to it a value beyond
its actual cost, but in depriving it of the property of convertibility
to useful purposes, which was necessary to maintain its price.

In the construction of the temple by Solomon, 130 years before the
æra of Lycurgus, iron was employed in great abundance; and, from the
cost lavished upon that building, we are [Pg 355]almost warranted in
considering it as still bearing a high value, even in that country, so
far in the advance of Greece in the arts of civilized life.

Herodotus ascribes the discovery of the art of welding iron to
Glaucus of Chio, 430 years before the Christian æra. But, before this
period, the Greeks had carried the art of working it into Italy, Spain,
and Africa; and the famous mines of Elba, that are still worked, were
probably opened 700 years before Christ.

It is from the working of these mines that we are to date the
introduction of iron in such abundance as to reduce its price, bring it
into general use, and finally cause it to supersede wholly the alloys of
copper. This ore is of extremely easy reduction, by processes of great
simplicity, which furnish iron of excellent quality, and are, as we
shall hereafter see, still in use. We cannot, indeed, infer with
certainty, that these were the processes used by the ancients; but their
simplicity is a strong argument in favour of their remote invention.

Steel seems to have been known as different in qualities from iron,
at a very remote period; that is to say, it was understood that there
were varieties of iron, which when tempered, became hard, whilst others
remained soft. The intentional preparation of it, as a different
species, seems to have taken its rise among the Chalybes, a people of
Asia Minor, and it was afterwards obtained from Noricum. We still find
in the latter country, (Styria,) an ore that furnishes steel, by
processes as simple as those by which the iron is obtained from the ore
of Elba, and hence can form some tolerable guess at the mode in which
the steel of the ancients was obtained.

The third form in which we find iron as an article of commerce,
namely, cast iron, is of far more recent origin. It has been traced to
the banks of the Rhine, and it is certain that stove-plates were cast in
Alsace in A. D. 1494. From this epoch, then, dates the great improvement
in the preparation of iron, by which its price has been so far lessened,
as to render it available for innumerable purposes, from which a small
addition to its present cost would exclude it.

Iron, as may be inferred from what has been stated, is known in
commerce in three distinct forms—wrought or bar iron, cast or pig
iron, and steel. The received chemical theory on this subject is, that
the former is metallic iron nearly in a pure state, and that the two
latter are chemical compounds of iron and carbon. How far this is true
will be examined in the sequel.

When wrought iron is nearly pure, it has, when in bars of [Pg 356]not
less than an inch square, or plates not less than half an inch in
thickness, a granular structure. From the appearance of these grains, an
estimate may be had of its quality; grains without any determinate form,
neither presenting, when broken, crystalline faces, nor arranging
themselves in plates; and which, in the fracture of the bar, exhibit
points, and even filaments, manifesting the resistance they have
opposed, are marks of the best quality. If, when broken, a crystalline
character is exhibited, the quality is bad, and will, according to a
disposition difficult to describe in words, either break under the
hammer when heated, or be subject to rupture when cold. These two
opposite defects are, in the language of our manufacturers, called red
and cold short, or shear. The former fault unfits it for being easily
worked; the latter destroys its most important usefulness. When the
manufacture has been badly conducted, crystals will appear mingled with
tenacious grains, and a want of uniform consistence will render it unfit
for being cut and worked by the file. Iron of the latter character may,
notwithstanding, possess great tenacity.

In still smaller bars, good iron, in breaking, exhibits filaments
like those shown by a piece of green wood when broken across; this is
technically called nerve; and as it does not show itself in larger bars,
it has been supposed that it is the result of the process of drawing out
the bars. This is partially true, although the iron that presents a
crystalline structure will not acquire nerve, however frequently
hammered. To obtain nerve in larger masses, it is necessary to form them
of bundles of smaller bars, a process known under the name of
faggoting.

Iron contains in its ores many impurities of different natures,
according to circumstances, and is in its preparation exposed to several
others; by these its quality is frequently much affected. Its valuable
ores all contain the iron in the state of oxide. The oxygen, it is
generally believed, is not wholly separated even in the best malleable
iron, but enough still remains to impair in some degree its good
qualities. In its manufacture it is exposed to the action of carbon,
with which it is capable of combining. Much iron appears to contain some
of the combinations of this sort, existing in the form of hard
particles, technically known by the name of pins.

Of inflammable bodies, sulphur and phosphorus are frequently
contained in the ores of iron; and when pit coal is used in the
manufacture, the former substance is present, and may influence the
product. The union of sulphur, in very small quantities, with the iron,
creates the defect called red short, although it is probably not the
only substance that produces the same fault; [Pg 357]but when it is caused
by sulphur, all the good properties of the iron are impaired, which is
not always the case when it arises from other impurities. The defect of
breaking when cold, has been attributed to the presence of phosphorus by
high authority. There are, however, ores in this country, containing a
phosphate of lime, which yield iron of excellent quality.

A mixture of sulphur and carbon deprives iron of its property of
welding, and in the highest proportion gives the opposite defects of
being both red and cold short.

Ores of iron contain the earths, silex, alumina, lime, and magnesia.
With the bases of these earths the metal is capable of forming alloys;
those of the three first are often thus combined. Silicium has been
discovered combined with iron to the extent of 3-1/2 per cent. It has
been found to render this metal harder, more brittle, and more similar
in structure to steel; so small a quantity as 1/2 per cent. has been
sufficient to render it liable to break when cold; and it appears
probable, that by far the greater part of the cold short irons owe this
fault to the presence of silex, rather than to that of phosphorus. Iron
obtained from the ores by means of coal, is, under circumstances of
equality in other respects, more likely to be combined with silicium
than when made with charcoal. Karsten infers that a combination with
aluminum produces similar defects, and denies the assertion of Faraday,
that the good qualities of a steel brought from India are due to an
alloy with this earthy base. A combination with the metallic base of
lime, lessens the property that iron possesses of being welded, but does
not render it more liable to fracture, either under the hammer or when
cold.

Of the metals proper:—

Copper renders iron red short.

Lead combines with iron with great difficulty, so that its presence
in the ores can hardly be considered dangerous, but when the combination
is formed, the iron is both liable to break when red-hot and when
cold.

A very small quantity of tin destroys the strength of iron in a great
degree when cold, but still leaves it fit to be forged.

Wrought iron does not appear to unite with zinc, but its presence in
the ores is injurious to the manufacture, for a reason that will be
hereafter stated.

Antimony renders iron cold short, the alloy is harder and more
fusible, and approaches in character to cast iron.

Arsenic produces a great waste in the manufacture of iron, and when
alloyed with it, injures or destroys its capability of being welded.

Ores which contain titanium, according to universal experience in
this country, give an iron inclining to the defect of red short, but
possessing the highest degree of tenacity. Such are several [Pg 358]of
the ores of the northern part of New-Jersey, and of Orange County,
New-York.

Manganese in small quantities renders iron harder, but injures none
of its good qualities. Many of our ores contain manganese, but when
carefully manufactured the iron appears to contain but an insensible
trace of this metal.

Nickel unites with iron in all proportions, and gives a soft and
tenacious alloy; no good property of the iron appears to be injured by
it. United with steel it gives an alloy of excellent quality. Nickel is
rare among the ores of iron that are not of meteoric origin. But native
malleable iron is occasionally found in large masses alloyed with this
metal, and its extrinsic source has been fully ascertained. The masses
are sometimes of very great size; we have already expressed our opinion
that the iron that first came into use was derived from this source, and
had been employed for ages before the processes for preparing it from
its more abundant ores were discovered.

Cast iron is distinguished into two varieties, which are obviously
distinct in character, the grey and the white; a mixture of the two
forms that which is called mottled. It is generally believed, and
usually stated in the books, that both of these are combinations of iron
with carbon, and that their difference in appearance and quality grows
out of the difference in the proportions in which the two substances
exist; that the grey iron contains the greatest dose of carbon, and the
white the least. There is, as will be seen, good reason to question the
latter part of this statement.

The grey iron requires the greatest degree of heat for its fusion, is
more fluid when melted, is softest, best fitted for castings which
require to be turned or filed, and for those that must be thin; the
white iron is very hard and brittle; the greatest degree of strength and
tenacity is due to the mixture, or mottled iron, and to that variety of
mottled in which the grey rather predominates.

The different varieties are readily convertible, for the grey iron
when melted and suddenly cooled becomes white, when cooled more slowly
is mottled, and when carefully preserved from rapid loss of heat,
retains its colour. On the other hand, experiments on a small scale have
shown, that white cast iron, subjected to a heat equal to that at which
the grey melts, and allowed to cool slowly, becomes grey. Hence their
difference can hardly be ascribed to chemical constitution. Neither can
the presence of a greater or less quantity of oxygen, as is sometimes
supposed, produce the difference, for under circumstances in all other
respects similar, except the rate at which they are cooled, iron of the
three different varieties may be produced, We therefore feel warranted
in rejecting the usual theory, particularly [Pg 359]as the reception of it
has rather impeded than advanced the manufacture of iron.

The theory of Karsten is far more consistent with the facts, and is
directly applicable to the practical purposes of the iron master. We
shall endeavour to give a succinct exposition of this theory,
introducing all that is necessary for its full explanation.

The ores of iron, which are all oxides, are reduced by exposing them
to the action of carbonaceous matter, at a high temperature. The carbon
first separates the oxygen from the ore, which becomes metallic, but as
it has for the carbon a high affinity, that substance tends to combine
with it. The iron combined with carbon is rendered far more fusible than
it is when pure, and thus readily melts; when the heat of the furnace is
little more than is sufficient for effecting this fusion, the two
substances are uniformly mixed, and probably form a compound analogous
to a metallic alloy; this is the white cast iron. When the compound is
exposed to a heat higher than is sufficient to melt it, a separation
appears again to take place, the carbon tending to assume in part the
form of plumbago, the iron to retain no more of carbon than is
sufficient to keep it liquid at the new temperature, and thus passes
from the state of cast iron to that of steel, and finally approaches to
that of malleable iron. If the cooling take place slowly, the carbon,
obeying its own law of crystallization, arranges itself in thin plates,
and the iron, consolidating afterwards, fills up all the interstices
with grains or imperfect crystals; and thus the mass assumes a dark grey
colour, partly owing to the natural colour of the iron, but in a greater
degree to the plumbago. When the cooling is rapid, the carbon still
disseminated throughout the mass, does not crystallize separately, but
the two substances again form an uniform compound.

Thus, according to the theory, there is no essential difference in
the proportion of carbon between grey and white cast iron, but the
former is a mechanical mixture of crystals of carbon, nearly pure, with
iron containing a less proportion of carbon than the white, while the
white iron is a homogeneous alloy of carbon and iron.

Upon this theory may be explained all the facts which have been found
wholly irreconcilable with the other.

1. The more intense the heat of the furnace, the deeper the colour,
and consequently the higher quality of the cast iron.

2. The changes that take place from grey to white cast iron, merely
by difference in the rate of cooling.

3. The reconversion of the white variety into grey, by simply heating
it above its melting temperature, and allowing it to cool gradually.

4. The formation of imperfect crystals of plumbago (kish) on
the surface of grey iron.

[Pg 360]5. The approach to
malleability of the grey iron, which is utterly irreconcilable with its
being a homogeneous compound, more charged with carbon than the
white.

The basis of white cast iron, appears to be a definite chemical
compound, of two atoms of iron to one of carbon, and is therefore
analogous in its chemical constitution to carburet of hydrogen and
carburet of sulphur, but like all metallic alloys it is capable of
containing an excess of one of the substances in a state of mixture
during fusion, and which does not separate on rapid cooling. The iron
alone is found in excess in this substance.

Steel appears to contain but half the quantity of carbon in its
chemical proportions that white cast iron does, but, like it, is
susceptible of a variety of mixtures; if the proportion of carbon amount
to three per cent., it loses the property of malleability, if the
proportion fall as low as one per cent. it can no longer be tempered,
and is identical with the harder varieties of bar-iron. As the carburets
of iron, whether in the form of pig or of steel, may be considered as
alloys, if they be presented to other metals, the results must
necessarily be different from what occurs when pure iron is exposed to
the same substance. The union that may take place in the one instance
may not occur in the other. It may often happen, that when the iron is
pure, a true chemical combination will occur, while in the other case,
no more than a mechanical mixture can be effected. For the same reason,
the consequence may be totally different when the third substance is
presented to the iron when first deoxidated, in the presence merely of
an excess of carbon, and when the combination with that substance has
actually occurred.

If reduced at the same time with the iron, the other metals will
unite with it more readily than with the carburet, and they may
afterwards prevent its union with carbon, for there are few, if any
metals, besides iron, which have any affinity for carbon.

Cast iron may contain the bases of the earths that form a part of its
ores. Of these, silicium is the most usual, and there is probably no
cast iron that does not contain a portion of it. It appears to render
this form of the metal harder and less suitable for the purposes of the
moulder, but is separated almost wholly when it is converted into
wrought iron.

We have seen a parcel of pig iron that was marked with a species of
white efflorescence, ascertained on examination to be silica; this was
rejected for its hardness by the founder, but on being manufactured by
the process of puddling, gave bar iron of good quality.

From what has just been stated, it appears that the other metals more
generally exist in cast iron, in a state of alloy with pure iron, which
is intimately mixed with the carburet. Thus as a general rule, the pig
which contains them, will be more [Pg 361]likely to be grey in
colour than that which does not, but it may, notwithstanding, be injured
in quality. The exact effect of such alloys upon cast iron, does not
appear to have been fully examined.

The ores whence iron is obtained, are all oxides, with the exception
of a carbonate whence steel is in a few places obtained directly. They
contain, in combination with the iron, or forming parts of a
heterogeneous aggregate, a variety of earthy substances. In the
reduction of these ores, two objects are to be accomplished, the
separation of the oxygen, and the fusion of the earthy mass. Carbon, in
some one of its native or artificial forms, is used to effect the former
purpose, upon the same principle that it is applied to the other
metallic oxides. Thus a furnace in which a fire of carbonaceous matter
is kept up and urged to the highest possible degree of intensity by
blowing machines, is necessary. When the earths are pure, even the
highest heat of furnaces is incapable of fusing them, and although the
oxides of the ancient metals, and among the rest, the oxide of iron,
increase the fusibility of one of the earths; still, if but one earth be
present, it is only in a few cases that the simple ore will furnish the
means of its own fusion. We are therefore compelled to make use of the
property possessed by the earths, of rendering each other more
fusible.

Silica is the earth to which we have referred, as being susceptible
of fusion when mixed with the oxide of iron. Silica, also, when mixed
with the other earths, renders them more fusible than is its own mixture
with oxide of iron. Hence it may be stated as a general rule, that ores
which do not contain silica, cannot be decomposed without the addition
of that earth. The most of our American ores contain silex in sufficient
abundance; hence it is usual to add to them, in the process of
reduction, carbonate of lime, which is called flux. Did not the
ore contain silica, this would not produce its effect, and a due
admixture of the three earths, silica, alumina, and lime, appears to be
necessary to cause the most advantageous results.

The remarks of Karsten on this head are new and worthy of
attention.

Most of the ores of iron require, before they are subjected to the
process of reduction, a preparatory operation called roasting. This consists in exposing them to a
comparatively low heat. The more important use of this process is to
render the mass more susceptible of mechanical division, but it also
serves in many cases to separate the sulphur and arsenic that may exist
in the ore. There are some ores, as, for instance, those of a number of
mines in Morris and Sussex counties, New-Jersey, which are so free from
impurities, and which yield so readily to the mechanical means employed
for separating them, that this process is wholly unnecessary; but such
ores are rare, and the process of roasting must, generally speaking, be
performed.

The mechanical division, which exposes a larger surface to the action
of heat and of the chemical agents, is called stumping; this is usually
performed by appropriate machinery, but was in the infancy of the art
effected by hand.

The reduction of rich ores of iron, such as are almost wholly made up
of its oxides, and contain but little earthy matter, may be performed in
a common smith’s forge. The reduction in this case takes place
immediately in the blast of the bellows, where the intensely heated ore
is in contact with the burning charcoal; and if a carburet be formed, it
is immediately decomposed, and pure iron is the result. Such is probably
the more ancient of all the processes for obtaining malleable iron, and
it is still used to a certain extent even at the present day. The hearth
in which the operation is at present performed, differs from the forge
of a common smith only in its greater size, and in the increased power
of its bellows. A cavity is prepared, in which a charcoal lire is
lighted, and to which the nozzle or tuyere of [Pg 363]the
bellows is directed; ore in minute fragments is thrown upon the ignited
fuel, fresh coal and ore are added from time to time, and the latter
being reduced to the malleable state descends, as the charcoal burns
away, to the bottom of the cavity. Here the successive portions, still
kept hot by the fuel above them, agglutinate, and form a porous mass,
containing in its cavities a black vitreous substance, which is composed
of the earthy matter rendered fusible by the metallic oxide. This porous
mass is called the Loup.

It would be unsafe to subject the loup immediately to the action of
heavy hammers of iron. It is, therefore, after being withdrawn from the
fire, beaten with wooden mallets, to bring its parts into closer
contact, and press out the vitreous matter. While this is performed, it
cools so much as to require to be again heated, which is done in the
same fire. Indeed, the same forge is used in all the successive heats
that the iron in this process requires.

After the loup has been again heated, it may be subjected to the
hammer. This unquestionably was anciently one moved by hand; but now, in
all manufactories of this character, a heavy mass of case hardened iron
is employed for the purpose; this is lifted by machinery impelled by a
water wheel, and permitted to fall upon the loup. The loup is again
heated, and again beaten into an irregular octangular prism, called the
cingle; this, after a third heat, is formed into a rectangular block,
called a bloom; and the whole, or a proper proportion of this is drawn
into a bar, at three successive heats; the middle being beaten out
first, and the two ends in succession. Thus, in addition to the heat
employed in the original reduction, the iron must be at least six times
reheated before it becomes a finished marketable bar.

In this manner the ore of Elba is still manufactured in Catalonia and
Tuscany, and there can be little doubt that it is identical with the
original rude process, by which the iron of that most ancient of known
mines was prepared to be an object of commerce. The processes in these
two districts differ from each other in some minute particulars, and are
known on the continent of Europe as the processes à la Catalane
and à l’Italienne. This method is known in the United States by
the name of blooming.

Bloomeries are frequent in the United States, being found in many
parts of the primitive country, where the magnetic ore of iron is
abundant. The iron manufactured by blooming is, generally speaking,
remarkable for its nerve, being strong and tenacious in the highest
degree, unless the ore be in fault. It is not, however, homogeneous,
being liable to contain what are called pins, or grains that have the
hardness and consistence of steel.

[Pg 364]Blooming is
comparatively an expensive process. It requires, indeed, little original
capital, but the product in proportion to the capital employed is but
small. It is wholly impracticable with poor ores, and demands a great
length of time and expenditure of fuel, unless the ore be very fusible.
Another objection to it is common to a process we shall hereafter
describe, that of refining, and lies in the numerous successive heats,
which the small extent of fire, and the slow process of hammering render
necessary, before the bar is finished. It has been attempted in
New-Jersey to lessen the expense attending these heats, by performing
them in reverberatory furnaces. A saving of fuel to a small amount would
probably thus be effected, but the number of heats would still remain
the same. A more important and useful improvement has superseded the
last; the process of rolling, which will be hereafter described, has
been introduced, and by means of it a bar may be drawn out at a single
heat, and at far less expense of manual labour. Such establishments
exist at Dover and Rockaway, New-Jersey, which receive the iron
completely reduced from the neighbouring forges, and fashion it into
bars.

A forge fire, and, consequently, the process of blooming, is
insufficient to convert poor ores, or those that contain much earthy
matter, into iron. Treated in this way, those ores, if fusible at all,
would become a mass of slag, as the earth would require, at the
temperature of a forge fire, the whole, or the greater part of the
metallic oxide for its fusion.

Iron being introduced, and its valuable applications known, it became
necessary, in those countries that do not afford rich ores, to discover
a method by which the poorer might be reduced. This could only be
effected by giving such a degree of heat, as would render the earthy
matter capable of melting, at a less expense of metal. To increase the
mass of fuel, by increasing the depth of the cavity, and actually
forming it of walls, thus enabling it to contain a greater quantity,
would be obvious means of attaining this end. The ore must be added in
smaller proportions, and, being longer in contact with the heated
charcoal, would become carbureted; the carbon must therefore be finally
burned away, before malleable iron could be attained. A rude but
efficient process of this sort, is described by Gmelin as in use among
the Tartars; an analogous method, whose use has been superseded by iron
imported from Europe, was found among the nations of Guinea; and Mungo
Park saw a more perfect application of the same principle at Camalia, on
the Gambia. Furnaces of similar character, but more skilfully
constructed, are still used in some parts of Germany, and are called
stuckoffen.

As a carburet, or actual cast-iron, must be formed in these [Pg
365]processes, and, as the separation of carbon at the bottom
of a deep cylinder, and where the metal would probably be covered by a
vitreous liquid, is difficult, the iron might sometimes resist the
efforts made to render it malleable, and run from the furnace in a
liquid form. It might therefore have readily occurred, that it would be
less costly to finish the process in a forge. The stuckoffen were
therefore converted into flossoffen, or melting furnaces, whence
the liquid carburet was withdrawn, and afterwards converted into bar
iron. Such was probably the cause that led to the original discovery of
cast iron, a discovery that cannot be traced further back than the end
of the fifteenth century.

The uses of cast iron for purposes to which wrought iron is
inapplicable, and the readiness with which it is fashioned, by pouring it into moulds, led to
the increase of the size of the flossoffen, and in the power of
the blowing apparatus, which has caused the introduction of the blast
furnace. This forms the basis of the methods by which iron in all its
forms is chiefly prepared at the present day, and is hence worthy of
particular consideration.

The difference between the blast furnace proper, and the ancient
fires from which it gradually took its rise, consists wholly in its
superior height, and in the greater power of the blowing machines, by
which its combustion is supplied with air.

This increase of height adds to the mass of the contained
combustible,—additional air is therefore required for effecting
its complete inflammation, and the joint effect is, that a much higher
temperature is generated. By this, the earthy matters either contained
in the ores, forming portions of the combustible, or added as
fluxes, are rendered fusible at a less expense of oxide of iron;
the carburet formed, becomes more fluid, and the product is more likely
to assume the character of grey pig-iron.

Charcoal, as in the other processes, was the fuel originally
employed, and is still principally used in most countries. But coal
deprived of its volatile parts, and charred or converted into coke, has
been substituted in some regions, as will hereafter be stated. Each of
these combustibles requires a furnace of appropriate character, and
demands a difference in the mode of management.

A blast-furnace is a hollow chamber enveloped, generally speaking, in
a mass of masonry, of the form of a truncated pyramid. The chamber is
composed essentially of three parts; the upper has the figure of a
truncated cone, whose greatest base is lowest: this may be called the
body of the furnace; the middle portion has also the figure of a
truncated cone, whose greater base is uppermost, and is common to it and
the upper portion: this contraction is called the boshes of the
furnace; the lower position is called the hearth, and is usually
enclosed on three sides by walls of refractory substances, on the fourth
it is [Pg
366]bounded by two stones, one serving as a lintel, which is
called the tymp, the other resting on the foundation, and known by the
name of the dam. Such at least is the shape of the blast furnaces
in common use, and which will suffice for our present purpose.

The blast is introduced into the hearth, at a small distance above
the level of the upper edge of the dam, and is now generally performed
by means of two tuyeres; in the more ancient furnaces, there was
but one. The furnace being completely dried, a fire is lighted in the
hearth, and fuel gradually added, until the whole is filled to the
trundle head, which is the open and lesser base of the truncated
cone that forms the body of the furnace. The blast may then be applied,
slowly and gently at first, and increasing gradually, until it reach its
maximum of intensity. As the blast proceeds, the charcoal gradually
burns, and descends; its place is supplied at top by fresh fuel, by ore,
and by the earthy matter used as a flux. This is styled charging
the furnaces. The earlier charges often contain no ore, but are wholly
composed of charcoal and flux, and, in all cases, the proportion of ore
and flux is at first small, and is gradually augmented. The charges are
made as often as the mixed mass in the furnace descends sufficiently low
to admit the quantity that is chosen as the proper amount. The charcoal
is thrown in first, and the ore and flux are spread and mixed upon its
surface. The principles which govern the amount of the charge, are as
follows:—

The charge of charcoal being determined upon such principles, it is
added by measure, and always in equal quantities, while the proportion
of ore and flux is made to vary, not only by a gradual increase at the
beginning of the operation, but according to the working of the furnace.
The manner in which the furnace is working can be inferred, even before
its products are ascertained, by the appearance of the flame at the
trundle-head, and at the tymp, by the manner in which the charge
descends, [Pg
367]and more surely still, by the appearance of the scoriæ.
By a strict attention to these circumstances the proportion of the
charge of ore may be regulated. A fortnight usually elapses from the
time of the first charge until it reaches a regular state of working,
and variations will occur even after that period, in consequence of the
greater or less moisture of the combustible and minerals, the continual
wearing away of the sides of the furnace, the variations in the state of
the atmosphere, and in the play of the blowing machines, the greater or
less attention of the workmen, and numerous other accidental
circumstances.

The mode of proceeding when coke is the fuel employed, rests upon the
same principles, but the dimensions of furnace that are best suited to
the different combustibles are different. As a general principle, the
height of furnaces must depend upon the force of the blast and the
density of the fuel. If the fuel be dense, and the blowing machine weak,
the furnace must not have a great height; and even if the blast can be
made strong, too high a furnace is disadvantageous for light charcoal.
Coke, on the other hand, may be used in furnaces of greater height than
any species of charcoal, provided the blast be of sufficient power. So
long as the imperfect bellows were used in blowing, the height of the
furnace was limited wholly by their action. More powerful apparatus in
the form of cylinders, analogous in form and arrangement to those of
steam-engines, and like them, either single or double acting, have now
been introduced; the intensity of the blast is in them only limited by
the moving power, which is applied to them, and when this is the steam
engine, it may be said, that no limit can arise from the want of blast.
We may, therefore, at the present day, regulate the height of furnaces
by the nature of the fuel that is consumed in them.

The greater part of the furnaces in our country still retain the
ancient and imperfect form of bellows, hence their height is restricted
to the limits of from eighteen to twenty-four feet, and rarely or never
reaches thirty. But when the apparatus is such as to supply a proper
quantity of air, it has been found that even with light and porous
charcoal, such as is given by white pine, the height ought not to be
less than thirty feet, and when hard woods are used should be as great
as thirty-six feet. Furnaces of even forty feet have been found to
answer an excellent purpose, where the charcoal was prepared from oak.
When coke is used, furnaces have been made as high as fifty, or even as
seventy feet; but experience in England has shown, that from forty-five
to forty-eight feet is the proper limit. This height is not at present
exceeded in that country, even when the furnace has the greatest
dimensions in other respects, and has been found efficacious, even when
the vast quantity of eighteen tons has been furnished daily by a single
furnace.

[Pg
368]The force of the blast will depend upon the nature of the
fuel, the volume of air, the quantity of mixed material the furnace
holds; and thus furnaces in which coke is used, will require the most
powerful blast, whether we have regard to the volume or the intensity.
The latter may be measured by a column of mercury adapted in a syphon
tube to the air pipes, exactly as the gauge is adapted to the pipes of
the steam engine.

The reduction and liquefaction of the metal take place progressively,
as the charges descend in the furnace. The separation of the oxygen is
due to the presence of carbonaceous matter at high temperatures, begins
at the surface of the pieces of ore, and proceeds gradually inwards; the
earthy parts of the ore, of the fuel employed, and the flux, unite and
melt; they are thus separated, and being sooner fused than the metal,
make their way through the charcoal, and descend first to the hearth.
The reduced metal, continuing in contact with the burning carbon,
acquires a greater or less portion of that substance, becomes fusible,
melts, and follows the liquified earths. Dropping into the hearth that
already contains the liquid vitrified earths, it passes by its superior
gravity to the bottom, and is protected by them from the blast. Even at
the bottom of the hearth, the heat is sufficient to retain the
carbureted metal in a liquid state, and this is permitted gradually to
accumulate, until it rises nearly to the level of the dam.

It now becomes necessary to withdraw or cast the metal. This
is done by forcing a way through a channel left beneath the dam in the
masonry of the hearth, and closed with clay; the inner portion of this
is baked hard, and requires to be broken through with a steel point. As
soon as the passage is opened, the metal runs out, and is received in a
long trench formed in the sand floor of the moulding house, to which are
adapted a number of less trenches, at right angles, each containing
about one hundred weight of metal. The metal in the longer trench is
also broken into pieces of the same size, and the ingots thus formed are
called pigs, whence the term for this variety, pig
iron.

From one to three days will elapse from the time of the first charge
until the furnace can be tapped, and pigs cast. From that time the
casting succeeds with tolerable regularity, according to the working of
the furnace, and at intervals depending upon the volume of the charge,
and the capacity of the hearth.

It appears probable that the fusion of the iron is effected always by
a direct chemical union of that metal with carbon, in the proportion of
two atoms of the former to one of the latter. This constitutes, as we
have seen, the white variety of pig iron. But as it continues, generally
speaking, in the furnace, long after its fusion takes place, it acquires
a temperature higher than [Pg 369]its proper melting point, and a
tendency to separation takes place, the iron retaining in combination no
more of the carbon than is necessary to maintain it in a fluid state at
the increased temperature. Thus the grey variety of pig iron is formed;
and on casting it, the carbon, in a form similar to that of plumbago, is
disseminated throughout the mass, or forms on its surface the
efflorescence that is called kish, and which is always a sign of a high
quality in the iron it accompanies.

In conformity with this theory, we find that a high temperature in
the furnace always produces grey cast iron; and that a low temperature,
from whatever cause it may arise, renders the iron more or less
inclining to white. So also if the metal be not exposed to the heat for
a sufficient length of time, it becomes white.

Karsten classes these several causes of whiteness in the product, in
the following order:—

Among the last may be reckoned the presence of zinc in the ore. This
metal, although volatile, is not separated at the temperature given in
the process of roasting, nor does it sublime in the upper and cooler
parts of the furnace. But, as the ore descends, it passes into the state
of vapour, and requires for its conversion, great quantities of heat
that becomes latent. It hence cools the lower part of the furnace far
more rapidly than even wet coal, or moist ores. The cooling thus caused,
may not be effected until the melted metal reach the hearth, and may
there [Pg
370]cause it to become solid. Thus the solid mass called a
salamander, may, in some cases, be formed; and thus may be explained the
fact, that ores of iron that contain the more easily fusible metal zinc,
are more liable to interrupt the action of the furnace in this manner,
than others. The volatilized zinc rises to the upper part of the
furnace, where the heat is often insufficient to retain it in the state
of vapour, and is then deposited on the sides. In this position, it will
also disturb the action of the furnace.

Coke being more dense than charcoal, will, in its combustion, furnish
a more intense heat;—hence it is hardly possible to obtain by a
charcoal fire, iron of as deep a colour as may be procured by the use of
the former fuel. It will also resist the pressure of far greater weights
than charcoal, and hence the proportion of ore may be much greater when
it is used; containing more and less fusible earthy matters than
charcoal, it requires a greater quantity of flux.

In the manufacture of cast iron then, coke gives iron better suited
for small castings, for those which require turning or filing, and
yields a far greater quantity from a furnace. Hence arises the very
great superiority which Great Britain has, until recently, possessed
over most other countries, in those fabrics in which these qualities are
valuable; and hence it has been found until lately, in this country,
hardly possible to manufacture fine machinery that requires workmanship
after it is cast, without the aid of the higher qualities of Scotch
iron, which, in these qualities, exceeds even the English. Recently,
however, iron fully equal to the best Scotch, but like it wanting in
tenacity, has been manufactured at the Bennington furnace in
Vermont:—so also at the Greenwood furnace in Orange county, N. Y.,
and at West Point, iron approaching to the Scotch in softness, but very
superior in strength, has been produced. In these cases, the height of
the furnace has been carried up to the limits we have before laid down,
and powerful blowing cylinders substituted for the ancient bellows.

When the pig iron is to be used for re-casting, every effort ought to
be used to obtain it of the deepest possible colour. This, as may be
seen from what has been already stated, will be effected by keeping the
furnace at the highest possible temperature, and exposing the metal to
it a sufficient length of time. In effecting this, however, certain
defects may arise:—thus a longer exposure to a high heat, will
cause the reduction of other oxides that may be present, as of manganese
and the metallic bases of the earths; and the iron in becoming more
soft, and approaching in fact more nearly to the form of the pure metal,
will combine and form alloys with these bases. In this way, it will, as
has been stated, become cold short; and to this may be [Pg
371]attributed the want of strength in the greater part, if
not all, of the British iron. The use of coke as a fuel, tends to
increase this defect, in consequence of the great quantity of earthy
matter it contains.

When the ores are pure, cast iron manufactured by charcoal, is not
liable to such a fault. Hence the cast iron of Sweden and the United
States, manufactured from the magnetic iron, or, in some cases in this
country, from rich hæmatites, has very superior tenacity, insomuch that
these two nations have alone been able to use this material in the
construction of field pieces. When white iron is obtained from a
furnace, it may have two different qualities. The first arises from a
mere defect of heat, where all other circumstances are favourable, and
the ore is completely reduced. The second arises when the reduction is
not complete, and the separation of the earths and other oxides has not
been fully effected. Of all the varieties of cast iron, this latter is
by far the worst. It is indeed more easily converted into wrought iron
than the other species, but the product is always of very inferior
quality; it is rarely or never produced by furnaces fed with charcoal,
but may be obtained by accident or design in those where coke is used,
by a surcharge of ore, or by too great a proportion of flux, and
sometimes cannot be avoided in warm and moist weather, where the air is
rarefied and charged with vapour.

The grey iron obtained by the use of each of the different kinds of
fuel, has its own peculiar advantages; that made with coke possessing,
as a general rule, when melted, a higher degree of fluidity which adapts
it for more delicate castings; being softer and better suited for
fitting; while that manufactured with charcoal, possesses a greater
degree of strength. One solitary instance has been quoted, in which a
manufacturer of great intelligence has obtained by the use of charcoal,
from a very pure ore, a union of both these valuable properties, and
another, in which iron as soft as that made with coke, has been produced
by means of charcoal.

In spite of this apparent balance in the properties of the two fuels,
the introduction of coke into the art of reducing iron has been attended
with the most important advantages. These lie in the superior economy of
the process, and in the enormous quantity of the product. The
manufacture of iron by charcoal is limited, by the growth of the
forests, which replace themselves only at distant periods, by the large
space they occupy, and the consequent labour of transportation; by the
cost of cutting the wood and preparing the coal; and finally, even when
the fuel can be obtained in abundance, and at small cost, the burden of
the furnace, and the heat obtained in a given space are less than when
coke is used, and the quantity of metal yielded [Pg 372]is in consequence
comparatively small. The coke furnaces of Great Britain, have therefore
supplied cast iron in such abundance and at such diminished prices as to
have brought it into use for a great variety of purposes, to which,
until recently, it was hardly considered applicable.

In England, as in other countries, charcoal was the only fuel at
first used; and after bloomeries had been in vogue for centuries, the
blast furnace was introduced from the shores of the Rhine. For many
years the growth of the forests proved sufficient to supply the demand,
but at length the increase of population caused them to be encroached
upon by cultivation; the growth of the manufacture was first prevented,
and finally, almost extinguished.

The method by charcoal appears to have reached its acme of
prosperity, at the close of the reign of the First James, when the
furnaces of the kingdom yielded 180,000 tons of pig iron. About this
period, Dudley first proposed the use of pit coal; but the time had not
yet arrived in which it was absolutely necessary to seek for a new
process, in consequence of the failure of the old one.

In 1745, or in the course of one hundred and thirty years, the
forests had been so far encroached upon, that the product of the
furnaces had fallen to 17,000 tons per annum, and in 1788, the quantity
made with charcoal had dwindled as low as 13,000 tons. At this epoch,
coke was introduced into blast furnaces, and in eight years the whole
quantity produced by both methods had mounted up to 150,000 tons, or
increased more than tenfold.

At nearly the lowest ebb of the British manufacture, the art of
preparing iron was introduced into her then provinces, the present
United States; and in 1737 it was attempted to obtain permission to
introduce the product into England. The attempt failed, and in 1750 an
act was passed to protect the exportation of English iron to America,
and to prevent the establishment of forges. Had the other policy
prevailed, England would probably have seen her manufacture of iron
transferred to the United States, and with great immediate advantage
both to herself and her then most valuable colony; but she would
probably have seen herself at the present day degraded from her high
stand in the scale of nations, to the secondary place in which the
extent of her territory would keep her, were it not for the superiority
of her manufacturing industry, of which iron is the basis. The quantity
of iron now produced in England, exceeds that furnished by the rest of
the world united, and does not fall short of 800,000 tons. It has a
value even in its raw state of near four millions sterling, and is of
far greater intrinsic worth, in consequence [Pg 373]of the spur which its
abundance gives to every other branch of industry.

Bar iron is at the present day principally manufactured from the pig.
The process originally used for this purpose is called refining. The
fire in which it is performed is a forge, similar in form and character
to that employed in blooming. In blooming, the iron must be reduced,
combines with carbon, and is subsequently decarbureted; while in the
refining, the latter part of the operation alone remains. In this last
process, while the carbon is burning away, the metallic bases of the
earths are then oxidated, combine with oxide of iron, and form a
vitreous substance. Hence, when it is carefully conducted, by far the
greater part of the impurities contained in the cast iron may be
removed. Refined iron, if made from ore of equal purity, is not inferior
in tenacity to bloomed, and is superior in other respects, being more
homogeneous, free from pins, and more easily treated by the smith. As a
general rule, it is also less costly, that is to say, the same quantity
of charcoal and workmanship will furnish a greater quantity of refined
iron. It requires, however, a much greater capital, and the labour of
transporting the coal from the greater distances which the increased
consumption of a single blast furnace and several refineries will
demand, may swell the cost of that article. A bloomery fire does not
require more than 2000 acres of woodland, while a blast furnace will use
the charcoal of 5000. Thus it happens, that it may be more advantageous
to spread a number of bloomeries over a given district of country, than
to unite a blast furnace and an equal number of refineries in a single
place. The celebrated iron of Sweden and Russia is refined, and our
country furnishes iron prepared in the same manner not inferior in
quality. The principle objection to the process is the great expense of
the fuel employed, in the successive heats to which the iron must be
exposed in drawing it into bars, after the processes of conversion and
the separation of impurities have been effected.

As charcoal became scarce in England, it was attempted to employ coke
in lieu of it, in the refineries. This, however, constantly failed, in
consequence of the great intensity of the heat, by which the pig was
melted suddenly instead of being exposed to the blast, long enough to
burn away the carbon. Reverberatory furnaces were next tried, and with
partial success, but a combined process has finally been introduced
which has been successful and which is called, from a part of the
operation, the method of puddling.

The manufacture of wrought iron, by means of bituminous coal, is
executed at three successive processes, and is facilitated by very great
improvements in the machinery. Where hammers are still used, they are
much increased in weight, and [Pg 374]driven with greater velocity; but by
far the greater part of the operation of drawing the bars is effected by
means of rollers. The plan of these is in some measure borrowed from the
slitting mill, in which bar iron is reduced into rods and thin rolls for
various uses. These rollers are in sets, composed each of two of equal
diameter, lying in a horizontal position, and placed one vertically
above the other. Grooves corresponding to each other are cut in the two
rollers, between which the heated iron is drawn by their revolution, and
forced to assume a section that just fills up the two grooves. By
passing in succession through grooves gradually decreasing in size, any
form or magnitude may be given to the bars; and the operation is so
rapid, that the bar may be drawn from the loup at a single heat.

The first operation to which the pig iron is subjected, consists in
melting it in a fire called a finery, similar in form and character to
the bloomeries and refineries of which we have spoken, but in which the
fuel is coke. The melted metal is drawn off by tapping the furnace from
beneath, and is cast into thin plates. In this way it assumes the
characters of the white cast iron, which has been described as formed,
when the reduction of the metal is complete, a form that cannot be given
when the blast furnace in which it is made is supplied with coke. The
rapidity of the cooling is increased, by throwing water on the surface
of the plates. It thus appears, that this operation is adopted in order
to bring the cast iron into a slate that it may often assume when
manufactured by charcoal, and which cannot be given to it by coke. In
conformity with this view of the subject, it has been found, that when
wrought iron is manufactured by puddling, from American pig prepared by
charcoal, this preliminary operation is unnecessary.

The fine metal, obtained in the manner we have described, is next
broken into pieces, and subjected to heat in a reverberatory furnace. A
rapid heat is given at first to liquefy the iron, and is then diminished
by means of dampers; the melted mass is violently stirred to expose it
to the action of air and heat, by which the carbon is burnt away, and a
part of the oxides of iron and the earthy bases combined and vitrified; as the carbon is
separated, the metal gradually loses its liquidity, and finally dries,
or assumes the consistence of sand: this shows that the carbon is
separated, and the iron has assumed its malleable nature. The addition
of water aids the oxidation of the several substances, and facilitates
the process. The heat is again increased, and the metal collected under
it, and rolled together into parcels suited to the action of the drawing
machinery, and to the size of the bar that is to be made; these are
pressed together, and a partial union takes place among their particles.
When they have attained a white heat, they are withdrawn in succession.
[Pg
375]In some cases, where the number of puddling furnaces is
great, they are immediately carried to the rollers and drawn down. But
where quality is more regarded than quantity, they are first subjected
to the action of the hammer, and finally rolled. The latter process has
the advantage of separating more completely the vitrefied oxides, than
can be done by rolling alone, but it will often require a second heat,
which is given in a forge fire called the chaffery. When rollers
are used alone, a minute and half is sufficient to form the bar; and a
power of thirty houses will roll two hundred tons per week.

The iron in this state is still of very inferior quality, although
its external appearance may be good. It is, notwithstanding, sometimes
thrown into the market, and this has given rise to the impression that
prevails in this country of the bad quality of English rolled iron. It
may, however, be used in some cases, where it need not be fashioned by
forging; thus, where it requires no more than to be cut into lengths, or
where the original bars will answer the purpose, its cheapness may
recommend it. Iron for rail-roads is of this quality; and the punching
of holes, by which it may be fastened down, is effected by a simple
addition of steel teeth, at proper distances, to the last groove through
which it is passed. In this form, ready to lay down, rail-road iron may
be shipped from England at the low price of 7l. 10s.
sterling per ton; and a similar quality in the simple bar may probably
be afforded at about 7l. We have never heard of its being sold so
low as is stated in the evidence before the Committee of Congress, say
5l. 5s. There was, however, a period, when an excess of
production, caused by a competition between the manufacturers of Wales
and Staffordshire, entailed ruin on many of them, and their articles
were sold far below the price of production. The price which we have
stated is lower than that which has recently been paid in England for
rail-road iron, and is that of some shipped from Liverpool, 1st March,
1831, when a considerable fall had taken place.

In order to render the iron which has undergone this process
merchantable, it is subjected to the third of the operations which we
have enumerated. For this purpose, the bars are made from three to four
inches in breadth, and half an inch in thickness. These are cut into
lengths, proportioned to the weight of the bar of finished iron that is
to be made, and piled together by fours, in a reverberatory furnace,
similar in character to the puddling furnace. Here they are exposed to a
white heat, by which the four pieces of each pile are made to adhere;
they are then withdrawn, and subjected to rollers similar to those used
after the puddling process, but of more careful workmanship. The cost of
finishing bar iron in this way, when the pig is made by the manufacturer
himself, as ascertained upon the [Pg 376]spot by Dufrênoy and de
Beaumont, is, in Wales, 8l. 15s., in Staffordshire,
9l. 12s. The cost of making pig iron in Wales is
4l. 7s., or about half that of the finished bar iron, and
in Staffordshire 5l 2s.

The iron prepared by the three processes of which we have spoken,
although merchantable, and suited for various common purposes, is still
far from good. We give the characters by which it is distinguished, from
the work of Karsten:—

“The iron prepared in the English manner, appears
dense and exempt from cracks and flaws. But this goodness is only
apparent; the uniform pressure to which the bars are subjected at every
point, masks their defects. If a piece of this kind be taken, that in
its fracture appears dense and homogeneous, and it be heated in order to
be drawn out under a common forge hammer, it dilates and exhibits
numerous flaws, that sometimes increase to such a degree, that the bar
will fall to pieces under the hammer. It is probable that the cause of
this phenomenon is due to the scoriæ, which, in this mode of working,
remain mixed in the mass.”

The translator adds:—

“It is not however true, that the English method of
itself, injures the quality of iron,—experience has proved the
contrary: it appears that soft irons lose their harshness in this
operation, and become better for many uses.”

It may therefore be inferred, that, when the English method is
applied to pig iron, that would produce a good wrought metal by the
process with charcoal, it will produce one that is equally good by means
of coal, but that the latter is capable of hiding the apparent defects
of even the worst iron.

The inferiority of the puddled iron is well understood in England,
and therefore when it is to be used for chain cables and anchors, it is
again heated, and rolled a third time, its price will be then raised to
10l. 10s. Another quality still superior, is made by
uniting scraps of the better qualities that we have mentioned, into
loups in the puddling furnace, drawing it in the puddle rolls, balling
or piling, and again rolling. Its cost will thus be raised to
12l. Even this is yet inferior to Swedes and Russia iron, which
sell in the English market from 13l. to 15l. sterling per
ton. For particular purposes in the fabrication of machinery, charcoal
is still used in England, in manufacturing a very small quantity of
iron, but of very superior quality; this, we have recently understood
from good authority, is sold as high as 22l. per ton.

Thus it appears that the manufactories of England produce five
different descriptions of wrought iron, four of which bear a lower
price, and are therefore inferior in quality to those of Sweden and
Russia, and, consequently, to the best American iron. No more than one
of these, and that the lowest in quality, is usually shipped to this
country, and it was the influx of this cheap and almost worthless
material, which in 1816 and ’17, completely prostrated the American
manufacture. Under a protecting [Pg 377]duty, it has again revived, but has not
reached its former level. New capital has been invested in it under this
protection, and it would be a breach of faith suddenly to withdraw it.
Still sound policy would dictate that this protection should not be
perpetual, provided it can be incontestably proved that it bears so hard
upon other branches of industry, as to injure the country through them
to a greater extent, than the benefit it derives from the manufacture of
iron. But this is far from being the case. The manifest and habitual
policy of our government, is to derive its revenue indirectly through
the custom house, instead of seeking it in direct taxation. When these
duties descend to a level with the minimum expenditure, they cannot be
considered burthensome, because they in fact replace revenues that must
be drawn from other sources. If, for instance, the iron employed in a
specific object, appear to cost more than in some other country, that
object may yet be afforded cheaper with us, in consequence of its maker
being free from other burthens, which the repeal of the duty on iron,
would throw upon him as a necessary substitute. If then our furnaces and
forges, when a sufficient capital shall be invested in them under a
protecting duty, can afford iron as cheap as it can be imported from
other countries, under a minimum of duty, it cannot in truth be said,
that this raw material will enhance the price of the articles
manufactured from it. Let us see whether there be any reasonable
prospect that we shall have iron produced in our own country, which will
compete with foreign iron of equal quality, paying a duty of 25 per
centum. If this be the case, the profits arising from the present
protection, must, in a few years, call forth such production as will
reduce the price to a proper level.

The best grey pig iron of American manufacture, superior in strength,
and equal in all other respects to the Scotch, is now sold in the New
York market at $45 per ton. Good grey iron of the usual character, is worth $35 per ton,
and there is no question that forge pig could be obtained by the
manufacturer of bar iron, for $25. If it were even to cost $30, it is
still cheaper than Staffordshire iron, far less fit for the purpose, can
be imported. The Muirkirk iron, so valuable for the casting of
machinery, used to cost to import it, at the present rate of duty, $55
and $56. The Bennington furnace commenced the competition with it at
this rate, but has been compelled, after driving the Scotch iron from
the market, to sell at $45, which is as low as the foreign could be
imported at a minimum duty.

Taking the cost of forge pig at $25, the price of converting into
bars by charcoal, would be, according to the Philadelphia memorial, $18,
and the ton of wrought iron ought to cost no more than $43. We however
believe that this cost is far underrated, and that even by the aid of
rollers in a part of the process, [Pg 378]iron of the best
quality could not be produced under $50. This is as cheap as
merchantable English puddled iron can be imported, paying 25 per cent.
duty. But, even if the pig cost $35, and the wrought iron, $60, it is
still cheaper than the English iron, worth in that market 10l.
10s. can be imported; and the latter is the cheapest which can be
obtained in that country, suitable for the manufacture of anchors and
chain-cables. At the present moment, however, iron cannot be produced so
cheaply, for the forges and furnaces may be considered as in a great
measure new, and undergoing all the difficulties of new establishments.
Capital above all is wanting, from a want of confidence in the success
of the enterprize, growing out of a fear of the repeal of the duty, and
the recollection of the former catastrophe; and even credit, so
essential where capital is deficient, is at a low ebb. Hence, if profit
be made, it rather centers in the capitalist who makes the advances,
than in the maker. Thus we have known iron in the bloom, sold at $45 per
ton; and, when finished for the market by rolling, bring $100. The
latter price, however, could not long be maintained, and has descended
to $75 and $80, which still leaves the greater part of the profit to the
capitalist.

But we are of opinion, that the manufacture of iron by charcoal is
not that to which our country should look for its final supply. It is at
best a precarious resource, and its production must diminish with the
advance of agriculture, and the consequent demand, while every increase
in the price of land must raise the cost. It is then to a total change
in the seat and mode of manufacture, that we are to be hereafter
beholden for the supply of this first necessary of civilized life. A
change will first take place in the sites of the two branches; pig iron
will continue to be manufactured by charcoal, and the bar converted by
coal. For this the great coal field of Pennsylvania will afford the
earliest facilities. No doubt can be entertained that the more freely
burning varieties of anthracite will work well in the puddling furnace,
as they have been successfully employed in the rolling and slitting of
bar iron. When the same species of coal is mixed with charcoal in the
blast furnace, it produces excellent forge pig, and thus the two species
of fuel may be advantageously united, although the coal alone will not
answer the purpose. The value of this coal in the mine and the cost of
raising it, is as yet less than that of bituminous coal in any part of
Europe, and thus we cannot avoid concluding that when it shall be
brought into use, our manufacturers might compete with the English even
if unprotected by duty. Our fields of bituminous coal are yet too
distant from dense population, and too far removed from easy
communication, to be looked to at present, but unless modes be invented
by which the anthracite coal can be used without mixture in the [Pg
379]blast furnace, these will become the ultimate seats of
the manufacturing industry of the United States.

But for reducing the price of iron, by competition within our
country, to a level with that of other countries, capital is required,
and to divert it to this purpose, the capitalist must feel assured that
he shall derive a certain profit from its investment, and that he shall
be subjected to no fluctuations in price and still more in demand, from
a vacillating course in the government. The establishment of works so
perfect as to compete in their manipulations with the English, is a
serious business, and till they be established in numbers, we must be
dependent on foreign countries for no small proportion of the important
article of iron that we consume. A forge for manufacturing puddled iron
cannot be profitable unless its machinery be kept in regular employ, for
the cost of that will be the same in all cases. This constant employment
cannot be given by fewer than eighteen reverberatory furnaces, and the
first cost of the works will not be less than $100,000, of which the
machinery alone costs $50,000. To supply an establishment of this
magnitude with pig, would employ three blast furnaces working with coke,
or six with charcoal, the cost of which would reach at least $120,000.
The value of the manufactured article would not fall short of a million
of dollars, and would require to carry it on a floating capital of not
less than $250,000. Thus it appears that a system of works for the
manufacture of iron, which should compete to advantage with those of
England, would find employment for a capital of half a million of
dollars, even with the advantage of credit, and the ready conversion of
its securities into cash through the banks. So long, then, as the policy
of our government is unsettled, we can hardly expect that so vast an
operation can be undertaken either by individual or by corporate funds.
A division of the business has been indeed attempted; there is more than
one puddling forge in the United States that relies upon the purchase of
pig for its supply. These unquestionably do a fair and profitable
business, but do not act to the same advantage as they would were the
two branches of the manufacture united. The chief difficulty under which
they labour is, that they must consult, in their location, convenience
in the supply of the raw material, and must therefore neglect what would
in the abstract be the most important consideration, the supply of fuel.
Thus, at least one of the puddling forges of which we have spoken, is
compelled to use imported fuel, and none are situated where alone the
nation could derive essential benefit from them, immediately over a rich
bed of coal.

It is not pretended to maintain that the present duties on iron are
not too high in general for a permanent rate, and that the distribution
of their rates is not injudicious. All that we would [Pg
380]contend for is, that there shall be no sudden change in
the principle, by which a valuable branch of industry would be at once
destroyed beyond the possibility of re-establishment. We have been able
to discover no argument in the blacksmith’s petition, or in the report
of the majority of the committee of the Senate, in favour of an entire
repeal of duty on raw iron, that does not apply equally to the articles
manufactured from it; and we presume that those useful and respectable
mechanics would think their principles carried a step too far, should
they be made to bear upon the fabrics of their own industry. We are
willing, in addition, at once to admit that where the scale has been
founded upon improper principles, it ought to be instantly changed.

To attain the first object, as we presume it will not be contended
that iron shall ever be imported free of duty, while the nation needs a
revenue to meet its current expenditure, let a minimum be fixed beyond
which it shall not descend, and which will, evidently, when correctly
viewed, place our consumers of iron on an equal footing with those who
pay direct taxes in other countries; to this minimum, after a certain
definite period, let the duty be gradually and almost insensibly
reduced. Less than twenty-five years would probably be insufficient to
effect this without incurring a wanton waste of property. We are aware,
indeed that our national legislature can perform no act which its
successors may not annul, but a hearty concurrence on the part of Mr.
Dickerson and Mr. Hayne, representing, as they do, the two great
opposing interests in this question, would be a pledge that might be
acted upon by capitalists. The expediency of investment would then
become a subject of strict calculation, and we do not fear the
result.

As to the injudicious adjustment of the scale, the higher rates of
duties fall upon articles, which under present circumstances are not
capable of being protected, except by actual prohibition. These are the
small forms of rod and round iron, hoops and sheets. The introduction of
the joint operations of puddling and rolling, has altogether changed the
manner of manufacturing these in Europe; they are now, with the
exception of sheets, made directly from the pig, by as few operations as
common bars; our own puddling forges are adopting the same method, and
so soon as they are capable of supplying the market, must drive out the
articles of these descriptions, made by those who use merchantable bar
iron, and roll it down or slit it. The slitting and rolling mills which
are conducted on this last principle, are therefore beyond the reach of
support. The inequality in the duty too, is more than the cost of
performing the additional operation upon the bar, and is hence rather
injurious than otherwise, to the interest of the producers of the raw
iron, while it bears with great severity upon those consumers who are
themselves [Pg
381]manufacturers of hardware. The duty upon these articles
should then be adjusted so as to bear the proportion to that upon bar
iron, which their values do in the foreign market whence they are
derived.

On the other hand, there are certain articles, of which the price of
the raw material, whether cast or bar iron, forms the chief value, and
which are actually convertible to the same purposes with their base. On
these, there can be no question, that every consideration of policy and
justice requires that the duty should be raised. Several articles of
this description are enumerated by the Philadelphia memorialists, where
the fabric is of wrought iron; and it is obvious that there are others,
made at a blast furnace from the metal at its first reduction, which
might be used as a substance for pig. Such articles, however, cannot be
numerous; for iron is, after all, a material of such low price, that it
can be hardly wrought into any important species of goods, in which the
value of the workmanship will not exceed the cost of the raw article.
The ad valorem duty must, therefore, in most cases, be an
efficient protection, both to the maker of iron and the manufacturer of
hardware. Where however it is not, an easy principle will restore the
irregularity; for it is only necessary to collect the duties by weight,
and affix to them the same rates which the raw iron pays.

The plan we have proposed, of continuing the present duty for a
limited time, is consistent with the policy of all civilized nations,
who do not hesitate to grant monopolies for definite periods to the
inventers of new processes in the arts, and most of whom give equal
encouragement to those who merely introduce them. Our government,
indeed, has never adopted the latter principle, but it may well be
questioned whether it have not in this way prevented the introduction of
many important branches of manufacture. The former has been adopted in
its full extent, and its utility is unquestioned. If, then, it be sound
and highly profitable policy, to grant a monopoly to individuals for
limited periods, thereby excluding our own citizens from advantages
which in most cases lie open to foreign countries, much more will it be
politic and profitable, to protect a whole class of our own artificers
from external competition for a similar period, leaving the price to be
lessened by the competition that security, from a change of system, will
infallibly create. The usual limit of a patent right having been found
efficient in drawing forth inventive talent, an equal duration of
protecting duty might be depended upon as sufficient to induce the
investment of capital in a business whose processes are understood, and
in relation to which strict calculations can be made. But these
protecting duties must not suddenly cease; for if they do, a spirit of
speculation, both on our part and on that of foreign merchants, would
[Pg
382]infallibly throw into the market an excess of the article
from abroad; and although the importer might not be exempted wholly from
the ruinous consequence of the over trade, infallible destruction would
visit our own establishments. Such was the case in 1816 and 1817. The
losses on the iron trade were not confined to our own manufacturers, but
visited the importers, whether British or American, and reached in their
remote consequences, but with diminished effect, the forges and furnaces
of England. The latter were, however, protected by the whole capital of
the merchant, which was annihilated before the ruin could reach them,
while the American establishments were directly exposed to it. The
adventurous spirit of British commerce, in fact, produced on this
occasion an effect similar to that which the people of the continent
have erroneously ascribed to the government of that country. New markets
are no sooner opened, than loads of British fabrics are thrown in, and
necessarily sacrificed; those who see no more than their own domestic
misfortunes, naturally ascribe to the policy of the nation, what is in
fact the misjudged enterprise of rash individuals. The effect has,
however, been in many cases the same, as if the act had been the result
of a deliberate national system; for the foreign industry has been often
prostrated, while the capital of the British has enabled it to bear the
momentary shock, and then to replace its losses by the undivided
enjoyment of the disputed market.

Having proposed that the duty on imported iron, after remaining for a
limited period at its present rate, should thereafter be gradually
reduced to a minimum, it remains that we should examine at what rate
this minimum should be fixed. This we conceive may be adjusted merely as
a question of revenue. Raw iron being a material of great weight, in
proportion to its value, cannot be smuggled; it will therefore bear,
among all articles, nearly the highest rate of impost, in proportion to
its cost. This rate of duty should be calculated upon the higher
qualities of wrought and bar iron, and be applied equally to all the
different shades of each article. For a wise policy would dictate that
the import of the inferior sorts should be more impeded than that of the
best descriptions. This is analogous to the system at present sanctioned by law,
and is dictated by sound views. Fixing then the minimum duty at about
twenty-five per cent, on the value of the better qualities of the two
varieties of raw iron, it will amount to about seven and a half dollars
on the pig, and fifteen dollars on the bar. To this limit we believe
that the duty may be finally reduced, without causing injury to our own
trade, provided the present duties remain in force for fourteen years,
and be then gradually lessened to this assumed minimum.

[Pg
383]It will be seen, that our views neither go the whole
length of those of the sticklers for either system, the tariff or
the anti-tariff,—and we fear, that, at the moment, they
will be equally objectionable to the advocates of both. We however
cannot but believe, that they are founded upon sound and just
principles. We give the fullest meed of praise to that policy which has
recalled into existence by a protecting duty, the most important of
manufactures, because the basis of all the rest. But, we cannot see that
it would be judicious to continue this duty, after it shall have
produced its whole vivifying effect. While, therefore, on the one hand,
it appears to be no more than a fulfilment of a solemn contract, that
the manufacture of iron shall be protected, we cannot urge that that
protection should continue forever; and, in relation to the diminution
of duty, we conceive that it ought to be gradual, and not sudden.
Modified in conformity with such principles, we conceive that a
“judicious tariff” might be rendered popular in all parts of the
Union.

In the northern and eastern states, the tariff policy has no
opponents, except in the merchants engaged in foreign commerce; in the
western States, the opinion in favour of the present system, is almost
unanimous. The southern states, and a portion of the mercantile interest
of the north, are alone in direct opposition to protecting duties. The
agricultural interest of the north and west, seeing and feeling directly
the benefits which the establishment of manufactures confers upon it,
has given what is called the American system,—which is in
principle, if it err occasionally in detail, the sound and true policy
of the nation—its full and undivided support. We cannot but hope
to see the day arrive, when the mist raised by designing politicians,
and soi disant economists, shall be dissipated, and when the
southern states will see that they are not merely indirectly, but as
directly benefited by the creation of manufacturing industry in the
northern districts of the Union, as they have been by that part of the
system which has secured them a complete monopoly of the home market for
their own products. Of all the states of the Union, Louisiana has
derived the most immediate and important advantages from protecting
duties, but they have also been shared by her neighbours; and we cannot
hesitate to conclude, that, next to Louisiana, South Carolina has been
most benefited. The cotton of India, which would have been preferred,
from its low price, for the manufacture of the coarse articles with
which our factories have in all cases commenced their business, is in
fact prohibited; the creation of the growth of sugar has occupied land
and capital, which, if applied to the culture of cotton, must have
driven the whole upland staple from the markets of the world; and, more
than all, a growing domestic demand has arisen, which foreign
interference cannot controul or diminish. In [Pg 384]return for such
advantages, it might fairly have been expected that some burthen would
fall upon the southern states, and no doubt it might appear to be
capable of plausible proof, that a portion of the increased duties
amounted to an actual tax. But this appearance on which so much stress
has been laid, is only upon paper, and does not exist in reality, for we
believe that they may be challenged, and must fail if they attempt, to
prove that the cost of the production of any one staple has been in the
slightest degree increased. We believe that it has, on the contrary,
diminished. It would lead us too far to show how this has been the
natural result: we appeal therefore to the fact alone.

And so in respect to the clamour which it has been attempted to
excite among importing merchants, we might appeal to the growing
prosperity of that interest, as a proof that the clamour has no
foundation. We however believe that the obvious cause lies, in the
latter instance, upon the surface, and exists in the plan of credit
duties, the wise conception of the illustrious Hamilton, by which, so
long as the limit at which smuggling would be profitable, or consumption
diminished, is not reached, every addition of duty increases the
effective capital, and adds to the net profits of the importer. In
illustration of this view of the subject, we may cite the
well-established fact, that most of the great mercantile fortunes of our
commercial cities, have owed their more important increase to the
judicious employment of the capital, thus in effect loaned by the
government without interest.

To use the words of the majority of the Committee of the Senate of
the United States, quoted at the head of this article:

“Of all the metals, iron contributes most to the
wealth, the comfort, and the improvement of society. It enters most
largely into the consumption of all ranks and constitutions of men. It
furnishes the mechanic with his tools, the farmer with the implements of
his husbandry, the merchant with the means of fitting out his ship, and
the manufacturer with the very instruments of his wealth and
prosperity.”

The wisdom of Europe draws very different conclusions, from a similar
view of the importance of iron, from those which are deduced by the
majority of the Committee of the Senate.

“The preparation of iron has become the most
essential branch of industry, in consequence of the immediate profit it
produces to the masters of forges, of the general good that society
draws from it, and of the advantages it offers to governments. No other
occupies so many arms, produces so active or so constant a circulation
of money, or exercises so direct an influence on the riches of the state
and the ease of the people. It is therefore the particular interest of
every government to favour it, to sustain it by the most efficacious
measures, and to carry it to the highest degree of prosperity.”
Karsten—(Introduction.)

The measures proposed for this purpose, include bounties, the advance
of capital, and the prohibition of foreign iron. Such is the uniform
practice of by far the greater part of the nations [Pg 385]of
Europe. The governments receive the most advantageous returns for such
protection.

“In the imposts of all kinds, that it derives
directly or indirectly from the establishments themselves, the workmen
employed, and the numerous personnel whose existence is linked to
that of the manufacture of iron. But that which ought most particularly
to fix the attention of government, consists in the precious advantages
which are derived from it by rural economy, by other branches of
industry, and which it affords for internal security and external
defence.” Karsten.

It has been seen, that we cannot consider that measures of such
extent are required in our own country. Still, were we, as all European
nations are, in direct contact with rival or hostile powers, their
necessity would be imperative.

Art. V.—The Siamese Twins. A Satirical
Tale of the Times, with other Poems, by the Author of Pelham,
&c. J. & J. Harper: New-York: pp. 308.

This production furnishes one of the most remarkable
instances to be found in the history of literature, of the wide
difference between notoriety and merit. No work ever came from the press
whose anticipated excellence was more loudly proclaimed, and none, we
are persuaded, ever more disappointed high-wrought expectation. That the
author of Pelham was about to favour the world with a great poetical
production of a satirical character, was announced in the different
periodical works, with all that elation and pomposity which indicated
the assurance that some important addition to the poetical literature of
England, was about to take place. Prophetic eulogy was strained to the
uttermost. Public anxiety for the appearance of the mighty work, became
all that the booksellers could wish. Every one was not only eager to
read, but prepared to admire, and impatient to praise—for the
fashion of praising this author, whether he wrote well or ill, had set
in; and who in this age of polite pretensions, would dare to be
unfashionable?

Nor has the attentive author himself been deficient on this occasion,
in the fatherly duty of bespeaking public opinion in favour of his
offspring. In a preface remarkable for that startling species of modesty
by which a man becomes the trumpeter of his own greatness, he predicts
that, if not immediately, at least in eight or ten years hence, his
works will make such an impression, as to occasion a revolution in the
poetical taste of mankind, and become the model of a new school in the
“Divine Art.” The confidential puffers to whom the idea was imparted, in
despite of whatever doubts they might entertain on the subject, [Pg
386]scrupled not to give publicity to the prediction. A work
destined to such an illustrious career, could not fail to be endowed
with an exalted and overpowering excellence of some kind, and also of a
kind different altogether from any that had hitherto given satisfaction
to the readers of poetry. The poetical tastes and habits of our nature
were, in fact, to be entirely changed by the influence of this mighty
satire. No wonder, therefore, that curiosity respecting the work was
sufficiently awakened to occasion for it a large demand on its first
appearance.

Many of the conductors of the periodical press, who gave publicity to
this exaggerated strain of praise, were, no doubt, sceptical as to its
being altogether merited, and must have acted from motives either of
interest or of courtesy. Yet there may have been some who believed in
the possibility of the wonders which were predicted. Indeed, in this
strange age, when miracles are scarcely to be accounted
wonders—when ships are propelled without wind, and carriages
without horses—when schoolboys and journeymen printers overturn
governments and make and unmake kings with almost as much facility as
the manager of a play-house casts the character of a drama; what
extraordinary things may not with propriety be credited? Even philosophy
may now, without reproach, believe in absurdity; and thoughtless
paragraphists, without being laughed at, may be permitted to suppose
that an adventurous rhymester may speak truth, when he asserts that he
is about to revolutionize the principles of poetical taste and
composition!

When mutation is the order of the day, why may not human nature
itself be changed? When all physical obstructions to locomotion, and all
impediments to the march of mind, are yielding to the ingenuity and
activity of man, why may not his own natural feelings and dispositions
also yield, and become changed? But hold—the author of this
Siamese satire has discovered that they have already changed! Not merely
have the opinions and pursuits of society taken a new direction, and the
habits and views of the present, become different from those of the past
generation—this would be readily admitted—but a much more
important alteration in the constitution of man, he affirms, has taken
place. It is not only the condition, but the nature of the
species that he asserts to be changed. With the last generation, all the
old impulses of the heart—all susceptibility of love or hatred,
friendship or enmity, pity or revenge—all feelings of pride,
avarice, ambition, or love of fame—all emotions of joy, grief,
anger, remorse—all generosity, charity, desire of happiness, and
self-preservation—all, all are passed away!

“Has not a new generation,” our author asks, in his odd and hardly
intelligible preface, “arisen? Has not a new impetus [Pg 387]been
given to the age? Do not new feelings require to be expressed?
and are there not new readers to be propitiated, who sharing but in a
feeble degree the former enthusiasm, will turn, not with languid
attention, to the claims of fresh aspirants.”

These are some of the changes which have brought about, as he
imagines—the circumstances that call for the new and “less
enthusiastic” school of poetry, which, founded by him, is to secure the
admiration of at least part of the present, and the whole of the ensuing
generation. “A poet,” he says, “who aspires to reputation, must be
adapted to the coming age, not rooted to that which is already gliding
away.” He admits that “the worn out sentiments, the affectations and the
weaknesses of our departed bards, may, by the elder part of the
community, be still considered components of a deep philosophy, or the
signs of a superior mind.” But, for this unfortunate circumstance, which
militates so much against the immediate success of his new school, he
consoles himself with the persuasion that “the young have formed
a nobler estimate of life, and a habit of reasoning, at once founded
upon a homelier sense, and yet aspiring to more elevated
conclusions.”

What this, as well as many other equally awkward sentences in this
presumptuous preface, exactly means, it is not easy to say. Our sons, on
whose admiration of his poetry, Mr. Bulwer depends for the success of
his new system, are, in order to qualify themselves for relishing its
beauties, to form a nobler estimate than we entertain of life,
while their habits of reasoning are to be founded on a homelier
sense; and yet, homely as they are to be in their reasoning, they are to
aspire to more elevated conclusions! If, indeed, such
inconsistencies are to characterize our sons; if their intellects are to
be so utterly confused and perplexed as is here predicted, they may
possibly become admirers of the new school, of which the redoubtable
satire before us is to be the origin. But we hope better things of our
posterity. We cannot think that their natural feelings will vary so very
far from our own, as to induce them to prefer insipid verbosity and
unintelligible doggerel, to the animating strains of genuine poetry, or
the sprightly wit and stinging ridicule of true satire.

Since the work which was to perform such miracles has appeared, and
has been found so egregiously to disappoint expectation, why do those
who puffed it on trust, still continue to extol it? The expression of
their favourable anticipations might be excused; for they may have
believed all that they asserted. But their eyes must now be open. The
most prejudiced, on perusing the work, must be convinced of its
imbecility as a satire, and its insipidity as a poem. Why, then, persist
in error? Complaisance to the prevailing fashion, and a desire to swim
[Pg
388]with the current, may be the feelings which generally
prompt to such conduct. But they are poor apologies for wilfully
deceiving the public in a matter so essential to the interests of
poetical literature. The critic who knowingly recommends an undeserving
poem, ought to be aware that he is contributing to destroy the public
confidence in all new poetry; for when men find that tame and
uninteresting works are so freely recommended, they very naturally
conclude that the times produce none others worthy of
recommendation.

We should think, indeed, that experience had, by this time, taught
the world the little reliance which ought to be placed generally on
contemporary criticism, particularly that description of it usually
found in newspapers. But the wide diffusion of this species of
periodical work, gives them an influence which no experience, however
palpable, of their erroneous judgments in literary matters, has yet been
able to counteract. The public, in truth, has hitherto had its attention
but little drawn towards this subject. The fate of a new book seems to
be a matter so uninteresting to any but the author and the publisher,
that whether editors speak of it favourably or unfavourably, or pass
over it with entire neglect, is considered of no importance. It is
forgotten that good literature forms the chief and most permanent
glory of a country; that its prosperity is, therefore, of much national
value, and ought, for the public benefit, to be assiduously promoted.
But the chance of good literature being properly encouraged, will be
ever extremely small, so long as worthless productions are forced into
even temporary eclat, by those ready and often glowing commendations of
careless editors, which must always, more or less, give direction to
public patronage.

There is an erroneous opinion, unfortunately too prevalent among all
classes, that no book can become generally noticed and much praised in
the periodical works, but in consequence of its merit. To those who hold
this opinion, the system of reverberating praise from one journal to
another, must be unknown. In this country this system is, at present,
carried to a great extent. It is chiefly produced by indolence or want
of leisure, preventing our editors from carefully reading and judging
for themselves, aided by a desire which actuates many of them to be
thought fashionable in their opinions. The literary idol of the day is
generally set up in the English metropolis. Of course, the fashion of
worshipping him commences there. We soon hear of him on this side of the
ocean. We wait not to examine whether he be entitled to homage. We take
that for granted, since we are told that he is considered so in London.
With slavish obsequiousness, we hasten to follow the capricious example
of the great metropolis, and shout pæans for the fashionable [Pg
389]idol, with as much zeal as if we really discerned in his
works merit sufficiently exalted to entitle him to such applause,
although the probability is, that, while we are bestowing it, we have
scarcely glanced over his productions.

Now all this is, on our parts, exceedingly ridiculous and irrational.
It not only exposes our servility, but it betrays our ignorance of many
of the temporary excitements in favour of certain authors and their
works, which take place in London. It shows that we are not aware of the
fact, that, in the majority of cases, the rage for a new book, is owing
to circumstances not at all connected with its merit. An influential and
enterprising publisher,—a striking or a popular subject,—a
sounding title,—a bold,—a wealthy or an eccentric
author,—and, above all, a continued series of well-managed puffs,
invariably do much more towards making a new book fashionable, than any
excellence it may possess; and the inducement to purchase it is more
frequently the knowledge that it is fashionable, than the conviction
that it is good. Hence, it is to their title-pages, rather than to their
nature or quality, that new books are mostly indebted for their
immediate success. Their permanent success—that is, their enduring
fame—is another matter. Merit, and merit only, can secure that;
for it is the result of the cool and deliberate approbation which is
awarded by the judgment of mankind, when the adventitious circumstances
which first excited attention towards the book, have passed away, and
can operate no longer on curiosity. The history of literature amply
proves this. Books have often had, for a time, great mercantile value,
and been highly profitable to the booksellers, that have been utterly
worthless in a literary point of view. Of this fact the book-dealers are
so well aware, that, rather than risk the expense of publishing the most
beautiful composition of an unknown author, they will pay largely for
manuscripts of the merest trash, from the pen of one to whom some lucky
accident has already drawn public attention. Many of our well-meaning
echoers of the London puffs of new books, are certainly ignorant of this
circumstance, or they would not lend their aid to give circulation and
temporary repute to much of the vile literature, which, under the names
of novels, poems, travels, &c. the press of London has so largely
poured forth, during the last eight or ten years, to the great
deterioration not only of the literary taste, but of the manners and
morals of the age.

It is indeed a sad mistake to suppose, that nothing but the literary
excellence of a new book, renders it saleable. Yet it is a mistake so
very general, that the booksellers find that the most effectual mode of
recommending a new work, is, to allege that it sells rapidly. Who
does not know, when a book with the reputation of being in great demand,
comes amongst us, the [Pg 390]eagerness with which it is sought
after? No matter how dull it may be, while it is considered saleable, it
is perused with delight. A thousand beauties are discovered in it, which
cool and unprepossessed judgment could never discern; and, as to faults,
although they should stare the deluded reader in the face, as thickly
and visibly as trees in a forest, he will doubt the accuracy of his own
sensations, rather than admit that he perceives them. Such, over weak
minds, is the magic influence of a fashionable name,—nay, such is
the influence, when the name is only supposed to be
fashionable.

That the work before us would sell well, at least for a season, let
its poetry be ever so bad, was to be expected, from the circumstances
under which it appeared. Its publishers, Colburn and Bentley, are now
the most fashionable in London, and are considered to possess more
influence over the periodical works, than even the magnificent Murray;
its author is a man of bustle, boldness, and notoriety, who has acquired
considerable repute as the writer of three or four novels, which got
into extensive circulation by professing, however untruly, to give
genuine and unsparing delineations of fashionable life. To speak
technically, his name was up; and, by the aid of this lucky
elevation, his active publishers could not fail to dispose of an edition
or two of his satire, in despite of its worthlessness as a literary
performance.

We have thus, we imagine, satisfactorily shown that it is possible
for a work to be, for a time, noted, saleable and fashionable, without
possessing any great share of literary merit. We may, therefore, be
allowed to deny, that the present demand for this poem, which, we
believe, will be of but brief continuance, is any evidence of its
deserving that unlimited homage which its author claims for it. That it
will ever effect the great poetical revolution which he so modestly
anticipates, we imagine that, by this time, few are more inclined to
believe, than ourselves. From its appearance, therefore, we feel no
alarm for the stability of that reputation which our favourite bards
have gained by those immortal works, to whose noble and animating
strains, the hearts of millions have so often responded!

But, it is time that we should enter into some examination of the
character of this work, and show our reasons for the disapprobation of
it as a poem and a satire, which we have so freely expressed.

It will be admitted, we presume, that, when an author does not
succeed in accomplishing his design, his work is a failure. The design
of the author of this poem was, as we are informed by the title-page, to
write a satire, has he done so? Those who are loudest in commendation of
the poem, have acknowledged its satirical portions to be feeble, and
without point. But they [Pg 391]contend that it contains a sufficiency
of good poetry of another description, to atone for this defect. We
confess that we have not been fortunate enough, after a careful perusal,
to discover this redeeming poetry. Whether it be of the sentimental,
descriptive, or ethical species, we therefore cannot tell. Perhaps it is
an ingenious mingling of them in one mass, in which the beauties of
each, conceal those of the others from view? If so, how many
disinterested readers will submit to the trouble of extricating them
from the confusion in which they lie, so as to see them distinctly, and
become fully aware of their latent splendour? We attempted, as in
duty bound, to hunt for these gems. We discovered a few that sparkled a
little,—but they were indeed so few, and their lustre so faint,
that we could not consider them worth the labour of exploring one moiety
of the abundance of rubbish in which they are buried. We believe that
the generality of readers will be equally disappointed; and that the
book will be almost invariably laid down with a feeling that it is
tedious, awkward, and dull,—in short, in respect to its
poetical as well as its satirical character, a failure without
redemption.

But the author calls it a satire. It is therefore as a satire, that
it ought to be judged. In our opinion, it is no more a satire than a
sermon; nay, we have read sermons in which the satiric thong is wielded
with much more effect against wickedness and folly, than in this
production. We need not enter into a philological explanation of the
term satire,—the word is common enough, and we presume that every
reader who understands plain English, knows its meaning. To render vice
disgusting, and folly ridiculous, is the legitimate office of the
satirist. Sarcasm and wit are his most usual and effectual weapons.
Ridicule and reprobation are also used; the former when the intention is
to excite derision, and the latter when the arousing of indignation is
the object. The great aim of the satirist ought always to be the
reformation of depraved morals, corrupt institutions, absurd customs, or
offensive manners. The contemporary prevalence of such, is what excites his
indignation, or provokes his ridicule; and, if he possesses power and
dexterity to apply the lash, he performs a real service to society, and
acquires a deserved and enviable name among the useful and agreeable
writers of the day.

Has Mr. Bulwer applied the lash in this manner? Against what vice
does he awaken the indignation of his readers, or what folly does he
expose to their contempt? We ask for information, for we have not, with
our best efforts, been able ourselves to make the discovery. It is true,
that, in the perusal of his work, we met with some awkward attempts to
be witty at the expense of Basil Hall, the Duke of Wellington, Thomas
Moore, Joseph [Pg
392]Hume, and two or three others of the conspicuous
characters of the times. But, if satire never launches keener arrows
against these men, than are to be found in this book, we fear that,
whatever may be their faults or foibles, no dread of her power will
induce them to reform. The only feelings they can experience from the
harmless missiles of Mr. Bulwer, are pity for his vanity, and contempt
for his weakness.

There is but one passage in this long poem which contains upwards of
eight thousand lines, that deserves to be called satirical. It is in
relation to the missionary Hodges. In this some tolerable hits
are made at the union of selfishness and prejudice which too frequently
characterize the religious missionaries of all sects, who are employed
by the zeal of the wealthy and pious at home, to convert to Christianity
the heathen inhabitants of foreign countries. The missionary in
question, who is the only character in the work drawn with any power of
dramatic conception, is represented as haranguing the people of Siam on
the inferiority of their institutions to those of England, (in which, by
the by, neither Americans nor Englishmen will be apt to discover much
satire,) and threatening, in language as coarse as that of the canting
Maworm, to reform them, whether they will or not, from the evil ways of
their ancestors. We shall quote part of the passage, and as it is
unquestionably the cleverest satirical portion of the whole poem, the
friends of Mr. Bulwer cannot accuse us of doing him injustice by the
selection.—

This fine speech, it appears, had much the same effect on its
auditors, that we believe Mr. Bulwer’s poem will have on nine-tenths of
his readers;—it produced a sensation of disdain for the
understanding as well as the principles of its author. Under the
influence of this feeling, the men of Siam could not forbear executing a
practical joke on the orator. They elevated him in a palanquin, raised
by means of tall poles, to a great height above their heads; from which
altitude, after parading him in mock triumph through the streets of
their chief city, they, with little regard to consequences, tossed him
into the air. The poem says—

The twins, Chang and Ching, remain behind, and taking pity on the
maltreated missionary, convey him to their father’s house, which was
convenient. Here he is treated with kindness, and [Pg 394]soon
recovers of the contusions and a broken leg, occasioned by his fall.

A notable scheme now seized the fertile brain of the money loving
missionary. The lusus naturæ which connected the bodies of the
twins, he conceived would render their exhibition profitable in England.
He obtained the consent of their father to carry them to Europe, by
stipulating to allow them one-half of the earnings of their exhibition.
The acquiescence of the youths themselves he easily procured by
inflaming their curiosity to witness the glory and happiness of England,
which he described in the most glowing terms of national panegyric.

The twins, however, resolved to consult one of the magicians of the
country relative to the result of their intended enterprise, before they
should commit themselves to the care of an absolute stranger who was to
convey them so far from home. The account of this consultation—the
temple of the magician—his manner of consulting the fates, and the
mystical style of his addressing the twins, form by much the most
fanciful and readable portion of the book, and would certainly entitle
the author to some credit for wild and weird conceptions, were it not
for the unfortunate circumstance, that the whole is a palpable imitation
of the celebrated incantation scene in Der Freischutz. It is also
infested with the besetting sin of the whole poem, prolixity. Mr. Bulwer
too plainly shows in this work, that he is a bookmaker by profession,
and if the faculty of hammering a given number of ideas into as many
words as possible, be a useful branch of the craft, it is one in which
he has assuredly few competitors.

The arrival of Hodges and the twins in London, is at length announced
in the newspapers, and then begins what the author unquestionably
intended should be the principal business of the poem—namely, the
quizzing of London life and manners—or to use his own phrase,
satirizing the times. The idea of bringing Oriental strangers to Europe
in order to exhibit their surprise at witnessing customs and manners
totally different from those of their own country, is rather stale, and
the humour of it, if there be any humour in it, has been exhausted by
much finer writers than Mr. Bulwer has as yet shown himself to be.
Various essayists, both of France and England, have had recourse to this
method of exposing the vices and absurdities of their respective
countries. Turkish spies, Persian envoys, and Chinese philosophers, have
all been brought into requisition for this purpose. No novelty,
therefore, can be claimed for the employment of our Siamese adventurers
on such trodden ground. It is, indeed, sufficiently apparent, that the
idea of making them a vehicle for satire upon the English, was suggested
by Goldsmith’s Citizen of the World. To try his strength with such a
writer as [Pg
395]Goldsmith, especially in the walks of satire, was at
least courageous on the part of Bulwer; and if any circumstance could,
in our estimation, atone for his woful failure, it would be the
hardihood which induced him to make the attempt. We believe no reader
ever became wearied of perusing Goldsmith’s Citizen of the World. But
how any reader can toil through this Siamese production, without
becoming exhausted, we own is beyond our comprehension.

In London, the twins meet with various adventures, which, no doubt,
the author intended should be extremely amusing to the reader. To us
they appear extremely jejune and silly. For instance, Lady Jersey sends
one of them a ticket of admission to Almacks, without recollecting to
pay the same compliment to the other. On appearing for entrance, the
door-keeper refuses to admit him who had been neglected. This obstacle,
of course, prevents the other from availing himself of his right to
enter. Lady Cowper, however, very soon sets all right by furnishing them
with another ticket. Now what there is either facetious or satirical in
this, we confess we cannot conceive. Equally silly is the incident of
the one brother being seized by a recruiting sergeant who had enlisted
him, while the other is arrested by a bailiff for debt. But as the
brothers cannot be separated, they get clear, the recruiting officer not
daring to carry off Ching who had not enlisted, and the bailiff being
equally afraid of the consequence of imprisoning Chang against whom he
had no writ—an old joke.

Now such bungling inventions appear to us insufferable. In the first
place, there is no emotion whatever, either of surprise, merriment, or
pity, awakened by the narrative, and in the next, the occurrences are so
contrary to all probability, that even poetical license, in its fullest
range, will not sanction their introduction. The deformity of the twins
would render either of them ineligible to be enlisted. The bailiff’s
writ might, it is true, authorize the arrest of one only; but even that
is inconsistent with the statement previously made that their earnings
and expenses were all in common. We should suppose, therefore, that no
creditor would make such an invidious distinction between partners so
closely connected. These inconsistencies, however, might be pardoned, if
the stories were told with sufficient sprightliness and vigour to make
them interesting. But when an ill-contrived tale is drowsily told, the
reader must possess an immense fund of good nature not to scold the
author in his heart.

We shall pass over the rest of these dull adventures, which rebuke no
vice, and satirize no folly, and shall give a very brief outline of the
remainder of the poem. The brothers, unlike [Pg 396]the real twins from
whom the title of the poem is borrowed, are represented as of entirely
different characters. Chang’s disposition is grave, contemplative, and
sentimental, while Ching is light-hearted, gay, and volatile. Their
protector, Hodges, has a handsome daughter, with whom the meditative
Chang falls in love; but, without any apparent cause, he imagines that
she has given her heart to Ching. He becomes exceedingly jealous, and
absurdly enough, considering the nature of their connexion, meditates
the murder of his brother. He however discovers his mistake in time to
prevent the deed, and feels a reasonable share of remorse. In the
meantime, Mary, the lady in question, who commiserates their condition,
contrives, while they are asleep, to introduce a surgeon and his
assistant, who successfully cut through the connecting bond of flesh,
and, to the great joy of Chang, who had long felt much mortification at
the unnatural union, they are separated. Chang now cherishes strong
hopes of becoming acceptable to Mary, which are destined soon to be
blasted for ever. By an incident which detracts much from the
sentimental dignity with which he has been hitherto invested, for it
represents him as an eavesdropper, he discovers that she is irrevocably
engaged to her cousin, who is called Julian Laneham. This discovery
arouses him to a certain fit of magnanimity. He understands that Mary’s
father objects to her union with Laneham, on account of the young man’s
poverty. He suddenly disappears; and four days afterwards, two letters
are received, one by Hodges, and one by Ching, which, as the author
says, “shows the last dénouement of the story.” The public
curiosity had rendered the brothers rich; and in his letter to Hodges,
Chang generously bestows on him his share of their property, on
condition that he will give his daughter to Laneham.

The old gentlemen agrees to the compact; and if the reader should
have patience enough to carry him so far through the book, he will,
towards its conclusion, be rewarded with a marriage, according to the
old established laws of romance writing. Why did Mr. Bulwer so far
forget the “originality of matter and of manner,” in other words, the
new school of poetry, which he promised us in the preface, as to put us
off with so trite a conclusion?

In a passage towards the close of the poem, the indomitable egotism
of our author appears, in a curious allusion which he makes to the
failure of his efforts to become a member of parliament at the last
general election. His hero Laneham, for he is the true hero of the work,
had been a more successful candidate for the people’s favour. The poet
says, without jealousy, we presume,—

From the last couplet, it appears, that our author has not yet
relinquished his expectations of being gratified with a seat in St.
Stephens.

In the following concluding lines, which succeed those we have just
quoted, the Twins are finally disposed of. We insert them here as a
notable instance of long efforts to kindle a blaze, at last dying away
in the suffocation of their own smoke.—

Although the translator of this book professes in his
Preface to have been principally induced to undertake the task by “the
desire of being the humble instrument of imparting to the American
nation, that picture of future grandeur and happiness, which the author
so prophetically holds out to them,” we believe it is but little known
among the readers of this country. Yet it is in every respect a very
interesting and curious work. It will be seen by the title-page, that it
was not only translated into, but printed in English, at Copenhagen,
with the view of disseminating a knowledge of its contents among the
people of the United States. Yet we do not recollect that it was noticed
at the time of its publication in any of our critical journals, and the
only copy that has ever fallen under our notice is that now before us,
which has been in our possession many years. Nevertheless, it is the
work of a man of very extensive views, and of deep sagacity. His
speculations on the state of the different kingdoms of Europe, in
relation to the past and the present, seem to us equally just and
profound; and the predictions which ten years ago the author announced
to the world, are every day, nay, almost every hour, becoming matters of
history.

It has been said, and said reproachfully, that the people of the
United States are somewhat boastful and presumptuous. One [Pg
399]reason doubtless is, that they have had to bear up on one
hand against much obloquy and injustice, and on the other against
certain airs of affected superiority on the part of the nations of
Europe, equally offensive. Those who are perpetually assailed, are
perpetually called upon to defend themselves; and what in other cases
would be an offensive pretension, is, in ours, simply self-defence. It
is not boasting, but a manly assertion of what is due to ourselves, in
reply to those who take from us what is our right. But even if the
charge of national pride were true, we are among those who rather
approve than lament it. National pride is a commendable and manly
feeling; it is the parent of virtue and greatness—the foundation
of a noble character; and if the nation which has led the way in the
bright path of freedom—which, young as it is, has become already
the beacon, the example, the patriarch of the struggling nations of the
world—has not a fair right to be proud, we know not on what basis
national pride ought to erect itself.

For these reasons, we feel no hesitation in calling the attention of
the people of the United States, to a work eminently calculated to
awaken the most lofty anticipations of the destiny which awaits them.
Nothing but good can come of such contemplations of the future. They
will serve to impress upon the nation the necessity of being prepared
for such high destiny; of fitting herself to maintain it with honour and
dignity; of attaching herself, heart and hand, body and soul, to that
sacred union of opinions, interests, and reflections, which alone can
lead us steadily onward in the path of prosperity, happiness, and
glory.

“The 4th of July in the year 1776,” observes Dr.
Von Schmidt, “points out the commencement of a new period in the history
of the world. Not provoked to resistance by the intolerable oppression
of tyrannical power, but merely roused by the arbitrary encroachments
upon well earned, and hitherto publicly acknowledged principles, the
people of the United States of North America declared themselves on that
memorable day independent of the dominion of the British Islands,
generally speaking mild and benevolent in itself, and under which they
had hitherto stood as colonies, in a state, not of slavish servitude,
but of partial guardianship, under the protection of the mother
country.”

The author has here marked the nice and peculiar feature which
distinguishes the American Revolution from all others, and confers on it
a degree of philosophical dignity. It was not a ferment arising from
momentary impatience of existing and operating hardships; nor the result
of extensive distresses pressing upon a large mass of the nation. When
the people of the United Colonies rose in resistance to the mother
country, they were in possession of a greater portion of all the useful
means of happiness, than the mother country itself. It was not therefore
a revolution originating in the belly, but the head; it was a revolution
brought about by principles, not by distresses. The early emigrants to
the new world, [Pg 400]brought these principles with them from
England;—every year added to their strength, and every accession
of strength, brought the crisis nearer to maturity. The annals of each
one of the colonies, exhibit every where evidence of the existence of
this leaven of freedom, which was perpetually rising and agitating the
surface; and, although like the eruption of a volcano, it broke forth at
first in one particular spot, it was only from accidental causes. The
whole interior was equally in a ferment, and the boiling mass must have
forced a vent somewhere, and soon. It had long been evident, that,
wherever the pressure should be greatest, there would be the point of
resistance.

That the American revolution, though unquestionably precipitated, was
not produced by a sudden excitement originating in any particular
measure of the British government, we think must appear to all those who
read with attention the early records of our colonial history. As long
ago as the year 1635, representations were made to the government of
England, touching the disloyalty of the people of Massachusetts.

“The Archbishop of Canterbury,” says Hutchinson,
“the famous High Churchman Laud, kept a jealous eye over New England.
One Burdett of Piscataqua, was his correspondent. A copy of a letter to
the Archbishop, wrote by Burdett, was found in his study, and to this
effect: ‘That he delayed going to England, that he might freely inform
himself of the state of the place as to allegiance, for it was
not new discipline which was aimed at, but sovereignty; and that
it was accounted perjury and treason in their general court, to speak of
appeals to the king.'”^[4]

But to return to the immediate subject before us. Dr. Von
Schmidt-Phiseldek, after stating the result of this declaration in the
establishment of our independence, proceeds to notice the second war
between the United States and England, in which the former successfully
maintained the positions she had assumed, as the grounds of
hostility:—

“By these occurrences,” he says, “which we have
only cursorily touched upon, the North American confederacy had tried
her strength, preserved her dignity by the rejection of illegal
pretensions, and vigorously proved and maintained her right as an active
member in the scale of nations, to take part in the grand affairs of the
civilized world. From that moment, the impulse to a new change of
events, ceased to proceed exclusively from the old continent, and it is
possible that in a short time it will emanate from the new one.”

The author then proceeds to deduce the attempts of the South American
Provinces, which, however, at that period, had not been consummated,
from the example of North America, which had inspired them with the
desire of emancipation:—

“This word, as intimating the resistance of a
people feeling themselves at maturity, to their wonted tutelage, and
desirous of taking upon themselves the management of their own affairs,
most suitably expresses the spirit of the times, which, being called
to light in 1776, has spread itself over the new and old world.”

[Pg
401] Having indicated his belief, that the South American
States will acquire independence, Dr. Von Schmidt-Phiseldck gives it as
his opinion, “that the similitude of their constitutional forms, and an
equal interest in rejecting the European powers, will unite these new
states in a close compact with the North American confederacy; and, if a
quarter of a century only elapsed before North America began to act
externally with vigour, it may be presumed that the younger states of
the Southern Continent, endowed with more ample resources, and more
ancient culture, will require a shorter period to arrive at a state of
respectable force.”

Having traced a rapid sketch of the situation and prospects of the
new world, the author next turns his attention to the old governments of
Europe, of which he gives a masterly analysis:—

The author then proceeds to notice the proceedings of Russia,
Austria, and Prussia, in relation to Poland, until its final
dismemberment in 1795:—

“It is unnecessary,” he says in conclusion, “to
give a further exposition of the leading principles of the three courts
which began this work of annihilation, and still persevered in it,
contrary to the solemn stipulations of treaties lately entered into,
just at the moment when a new constitution, enthusiastically received,
had offered every guaranty of security, the want of which had served to
give an air of legitimacy to the first spoliations. External
aggrandisement in the acquisition of territory and population, and
internal considerations, so far as they afforded means of attaining the
object in view, are, in short, the features of these unnatural
principles. This economical digestion of an administration merely of
things, not persons, may be termed excellent in its kind. Taken in this
point of view, the Prussian government gave the most splendid proofs of
the beneficial results which may be attained by military organization.
Austria and Russia had followed this example; and it required later
events to prove, that the calculation is not always correct, that a
standing army, forming a state within the state, is the only support and
rallying point of a government, and that no system is safe, but that
which is founded on the internal strength and unanimity of the
people.”

Having sketched the political situation of Europe, at the
commencement of the American revolution, the author proceeds to notice
the interference of France and Spain;—the situation in which the
colonies of North America were left after the acknowledgment of their
independence;—the adoption of the new constitution;—the
extraordinary prosperity which followed;—the immense acquisitions
of territory, and the accession of wealth and numbers. He then traces
the effects produced in Europe, and most especially in France, by a
participation in the struggle [Pg 404]between England and her colonies, and
the contemplation of their subsequent prosperity and happiness. The
spirit of emancipation was caught from the new, and was fast spreading
itself over the old world. This spirit first produced its practical
effects in France, whence it reached England, and almost all the states
on the continent of Europe, begetting a revolution of ideas at least, if
not leading to the revolution of governments, as it did in France.

The spirit of conquest which was perhaps forced upon France, by the
necessity of giving to the enemies of the new order of things,
employment at home, in order to prevent their interference abroad, was
fatal to the beneficial results of the revolution. The rapid conquests
achieved by Napoleon, drew the eyes and hearts of a people fond of
glory, and full of a military spirit, from their internal affairs, to
foreign conquests; and, while they were subduing a world, they were
themselves subdued by the same power. Then came the empire of Napoleon;
the confederacy of nations,—not merely of kings and their armies,
but of nations, instigated partly by their own wrongs, and partly by the
promises of their rulers, to rise in mass, and do what neither their
kings nor their armies had been able to perform. It was the people of
Europe that at length overthrew Napoleon.

When, after this great event, it became necessary to reorganize
Europe, which had been cast from its ancient moorings, by the gigantic
power, and gigantic mind of the child of democracy, who had devoured his
mother, there arose a schism between the people and their sovereigns.
The former expected the fulfilment of those promises, which the latter
had made in the hour of extreme peril, in order to rouse them to
effectual resistance against the French. These promises in Germany,
Prussia, the Netherlands, &c. consisted principally in the
establishment of representative governments, which would leave the
sovereign in possession of a hereditary power, checked by a body elected
by the people. On the other hand, the sovereigns, unmindful of the
preservation of their thrones, which they owed to the people,
refused to fulfil their solemn stipulations. In the hour of success,
they as usual forgot the hour of adversity, and insisted upon the
unconditional re-establishment, if not of old boundaries, at least of
the old political regime. Hence we may trace the origin of what is
called seriously by some, in derision and scorn by others, the Holy
Alliance, which originated in the fears and the weakness of kings,
who, being unable to maintain singly their antiquated pretensions at
home, sought in a close union of policy and interests, the means of
doing that, which each one alone was inadequate to achieve. By this
alliance, Europe was dismembered—millions of acres, and millions
[Pg
405]of people, were parcelled out among the different
sovereigns, and the balance of Europe was either believed, or affected
to be believed, restored by placing whole nations under a dominion which
they abhorred. It is obvious that such an unnatural state of things
could endure only while cemented by a mutual fear of the powers which
had constituted it; which fear would subside immediately, or very soon
after the dissolution of the great confederacy. A large portion of
Europe had been fermenting for nearly fifteen years, under the
oppressions of this union of despots, and the moment of its separation,
would naturally be that of the downfall of the system they had attempted to impose on
mankind. But we are anticipating our brief analysis of the work before
us:—

“After twenty-three years of blood and revolution,”
continues the author, “Louis was again seated on the throne of his
forefathers, and the principles of monarchy seemed firmly established in
Europe. But the principle of government was in reality no longer the old
one, and the spirit of the relation in which the ruled stood to the
rulers, although it had not yet been brought to light in visible forms,
and specified limits, was materially changed. Mutual struggles of kings
and their people against foreign aggression, and mutual sufferings in
consequence of the division between the people and their rulers, the
latter of whom owed esteem and acknowledgment for services rendered by
the former, laid the foundation of a relation between them mutually more
honourable. For centuries, indeed, the monarchs of Europe had not been
identified and interwoven with their people; nor had they shared as now,
the privations and humiliations, the domestic and public calamities, of
the nations they governed; nor had they fought by their sides, and
conquered by their efforts, as they had lately done in the late stormy
period of the world.”

Mutual suffering had taught them to feel a community of interests
they had not before recognised. Calamity brings all ranks to a level,
and the monarch exiled from his throne, can sympathise with the peasant
driven from his hovel.

In this state of feelings, one would suppose Europe might have
reposed in peace. But the elements of internal discord, lay buried
deeply in her bosom, and the internal relations of the different powers
had been so altered, as to present ample materials for dissension
abroad. With the necessity of appealing to the patriotism of their
people, by promises of privileges and immunities, expired the disposition to comply with them.
This breach of faith, produced on one hand indignation and discontent,
on the other, jealousy and apprehension. The discontents of the people,
caused their rulers to depend more on the support of their standing
armies, than on the attachment of their subjects, and these armies were
accordingly augmented to such an extent, that the unfortunate people
were at length impoverished by the very means used in enslaving them. At
this moment, nearly the whole of Europe, including the British islands,
constitutes a mass of military governments. Every where the civil power
is inadequate to the preservation of order, the [Pg 406]enforcement of
obedience to the king and the laws, and every where a standing army
under some form or other presides over the opinions and actions of the
people. Hence results the curious and ominous, not to say awful
spectacle of the rights of property at the mercy of a mob; and on the
other hand, the rights of person, the liberties of the citizen, subject
to the arbitrary domination of the bayonet. At this moment, such is the
state of every monarchy in Europe.

Such a juxtaposition of kings and their people, must of necessity
alienate them from each other every day; and thus by degrees, the
feeling of loyalty towards the one, and of parental affection towards
the other, will be finally extinguished in mutual fears and mutual
injuries, that will for ever disturb their repose, until the people are
either perfectly satisfied, or totally subdued.

Another fruitful source of the discontents now agitating all Europe,
is the state of the labouring classes, not only manufacturing but
agricultural. The means of producing the necessaries and luxuries of
life have been multiplied by the increase of paper capital and
artificial expedients, until the supply exceeds the demand, and the
price of labour, even where labour can be procured, bears no proportion
to the price of bread. During fifteen years of peace, America and Europe
have augmented their powers of supplying their own wants and those of
the rest of the world, by means of improvements in arts, sciences,
machinery, &c., to an extent which cannot be estimated. The whole
world is glutted with the products of machinery, and exactly in the
proportion that these increase upon us, is the increase of the poverty
of the labouring classes. Millions of people in Europe, the largest
proportion of whom are inhabitants of the richest country in the world,
and one producing the greatest quantity of the results of industry, want
bread, because they either have no employment, or their wages will not
obtain it for them. Let political economists reason as they will, this
is the state of the labouring classes of Europe, and this state is
aggravated precisely in the proportion that the facility of supplying
the necessities and luxuries of life by artificial means is
increased.

The cause of this singular state of things to us is sufficiently
obvious. The powers of wealth, the force of example, opinion, authority,
laws, of every concentrated influence that can be brought to bear upon
human affairs, have, all combined, been directed to a reduction of the
price of labour, and consequently to diminishing the consumption of the
products of human industry; for the great mass of mankind have nothing
but the fruits of their labour to offer in exchange for those products
which are necessary to their subsistence and comfort. In vain may it be
[Pg
407]urged, as we have seen it done repeatedly, and most
especially in an address of a clergyman of England to the labouring
classes of that country—in vain may it be urged, that the decrease
of the price of labour has been met by a corresponding decrease in the
price of the necessaries of life, and that, therefore, the labouring
classes are no worse off, nay better off, than before the vast increase
of machinery either threw them out of employment, or forced them to
labour for almost nothing. This comfortable gentleman, who, we
understand, has a good fat living, and will probably be made a bishop if
he can only stop the mouths of the sufferers with reasons instead of
bread, asks these poor people if they don’t get their hats, shoes,
&c. one half cheaper in consequence of the perfection of machinery,
the improvements of the arts, &c. But he takes care not to ask them
if the difficulty of earning this half price is not increased in a much
greater proportion, in consequence of the diminution of their wages, and
whether bread, meat, beer, and all the essentials of human existence,
are not enhanced rather than diminished in price. We could illustrate
the theory of the reverend gentleman, by an honest matter of fact story,
which we can vouch for, as it happened to a near relative of ours.

He had a gardener named Dennis, an honest fellow, full of simplicity,
and a dear lover of Old Ireland, as all Irishmen are, at home or abroad.
One day he was dilating with much satisfaction on the difference between
the price of potatoes in this country and Ireland. “In Ireland, your
honour, now I could git more nor a barrel of potatoes for a pishtareen,
but here it costs as much as a dollar and a half.” The gentleman asked
him good naturedly why he did not remain where potatoes were so cheap.
Dennis considered a moment, and answered with the characteristic
frankness of his country—”why to tell your honour the honest
truth, though the potatoes were so cheap, I never could get the
pishtareen to buy them.”

Here is the solution of the whole enigma. Every thing is cheap we
will say; but labour, which is the only equivalent a large mass of
mankind have to offer for every thing, is cheaper than all. Evident, as
we think this will appear, still it seems to have no influence on those
who govern mankind. And how should it? Their emoluments, their means of
expenditure, are derived, not from their own physical labour, but the
labours of others. The cheaper they can procure this, the deeper they
can revel in luxuries. With them, the relative proportion between the
remuneration of toil, and the means of living is nothing. Hence the
rulers of nations, hence capitalists, and all the brood of monopolists,
are stirring their energies abroad, to increase the supply of the
products of labour, at the same time that they take from the labourer
the due rewards of his labours, and thus prevent [Pg 408]the
consumption of the vast accession of manufactures, &c. occasioned by
the increase and perfection of machinery. Inanimate powers are daily
substituted for human hands, and productions continue to multiply in an
equal ratio. This is a benefit to a single nation, while it possesses
all the advantages of superiority, and is enabled to supply a portion of
the rest of the world. But when other nations, as is the case now, adopt
the same system, and avail themselves of the same means of supply, a
glut takes place in the market, at home and abroad, and poverty and
distress among the labourers are the inevitable consequence.

Such seem to us the principal elements of combustion now at work in
Europe. Political disgust, and physical distresses are co-operating with
each other, and in order to quiet these disturbances, it is not only
necessary to give them more liberty, but more bread. But to return once
more to the speculations of our author,—

“If we turn our view to the present state of
agriculture,” continues Dr. Von Schmidt, “in many countries of Europe,
it will appear evident, that even the paternal soil in many districts,
is becoming too confined to afford nourishment to those who have
remained faithful to its bosom. If in the mountainous countries, as for
example, in the west and south of France, on the Alps, and along the
Rhine, every spot is occupied, and the very earth and manure have for
centuries been carried aloft upon the naked rock attended with the most
boundless labour, in order to furnish soil for the vine, the olive, and
for the different species of cerelia, and at present no further room
exists for a more extended cultivation; it is not possible for a more
numerous growing generation to find nourishment in these districts,
whose productions are not susceptible of increasing progression. The too
frequent practice of parcelling out common lands, and large estates,
originally beneficial in itself, has produced similar consequences in
other states. It was undoubtedly a wise and humane plan to transform
commons, and extensive pastures into fruitful fields, and by dividing
large estates which their owners could not overlook, into smaller lots,
thus ensure more abundant crops, and an increasing population, by a more
careful cultivation. But if, as is the case at the present day, in many
places, useful lands have been split into so many small independent
possessions, as to render it hardly possible for families occupying
them, to subsist in the most penurious manner, by cultivating them;
whence, then, is sustenance to be obtained for their more numerous
posterity, and from what source is the state to derive its taxes? It is
evident, that this condition of things must lead to the most poignant
distress, and that a breadless multitude, either driven by irretrievable
debts from their paternal huts, or voluntarily forsaking them on account
of an inadequate maintenance, will turn their backs upon their country;
and it may be considered a fortunate resource if they, as has frequently
occurred in later times, carry with them the vigour of their strength to
the free states of America, which stand in need of no one thing but
human hands, to raise them to the highest degree of prosperity. Those
governments in which such an unnatural distension of the state of
society prevails, ought not, most assuredly, for their own advantage,
and for the sake of humanity, by any means to throw obstacles in the
way, but rather favour such emigration, and render it easy and
consolatory for all, since they have it not in their power to offer a
better remedy for their present misery. By doing this, they will prevent
dangerous ebullitions and unruly disaffections of a distressed and
overgrown population; they will lighten the number of poor which is
increasing to a most alarming extent, and put an end to that angry state
of abjectness and misery which is felt by every honest heart, and under which thousands have sunk
down, who, with numerous families in hovels of wretchedness, prolong
their existence [Pg 409]upon more scanty means than the most
common domestic animals, and who appear only to be gifted with reason in
order to be more sensible to their forlorn and pitiable fate.”

From the foregoing premises, the author deduces the conclusion, that
the free states of North America will increase in population more
rapidly than any other country has ever done, partly from emigration,
and partly from the unequalled facility of obtaining the comforts of
life, by which the numbers of mankind are regulated. The people, equally
free from political oppression, and the evils of abject poverty, such as
scanty nourishment, and crowded habitations, will at first make a rapid
progress in the useful, and subsequently, in the elegant arts, and more
abstract sciences. The freedom of their institutions will continually
offer every stimulus to the development of the features of independence,
and animate that spirit of intelligence, which always increases in
proportion to the freedom with which the human faculties are exercised.
Thence he proceeds to the supposition, that the states of South America
having attained to independence, will establish constitutional
governments similar to those of the North, whose example first
stimulated them to resistance to the mother country,—that this
similarity will naturally produce a close union of interest and policy
among all the states of the Western Continent, and that such a union
will give a death blow to the colonial system of Europe, at no distant
period.

The discovery and colonization of America, led to consequences which
re-modelled all Europe; and her emancipation from European thraldom
will, in like manner, force upon that portion of the world a new state
of things. Europe, in her present situation, cannot do without
America,—while, on the other hand, America has no occasion for
Europe. America can, and will, therefore, become independent of
Europe; but, in the present state of things, Europe cannot become
independent of America. That almost universal empire which Europe
attained by the superiority of her intelligence,—by the tribute
she exacted from every other quarter of the globe, and by the
superiority of her skill as well as of her industry, cannot be sustained
for a much longer period.

Wrapped up in a sense of his superiority, the European reclines at
home, shining in his borrowed plumes, derived from the product of every
corner of the earth, and the industry of every portion of its
inhabitants, with which his own natural resources would never have
invested him, he continues, as the author observes, revelling in
enjoyments which nature has denied him;—accustomed from his most
tender years, to wants which all the blessings and donations of the land
and the ocean, produced within the compass of his own quarter of the
globe, [Pg
410]are unable to satisfy. While, therefore, the rest of the
world has become tributary to him, he, in return, has become dependent
on it, by those wants,—the supply of which, custom and education
have made indispensably necessary.

America alone furnishes in a sufficient quantity those precious
metals, which constitute the basis on which the existing relations of
all the different classes of society, and indeed the whole concatenation
of the civil institutions of society in general, have been formed, and
retained to the present time. All the elements of modern splendour were
derived from her,—and it was her gifts to Europe, which changed
almost all the constituents of social life. The costly woods of the new
world, banished the native products of the old;—her cochineal and
indigo furnish the choicest materials for the richest dyes;—her
rice is become an article of cheap and general nourishment to the
European world;—her cotton, tobacco, coffee, sugar, molasses,
cocoa and rum;—her numerous and valuable drugs;—her diamonds
and precious stones;—her furs, and, in time of scarcity, the rich
redundant stores of grain she pours forth from her bosom, constitute so
large a portion of the wants and luxuries of Europe, that it is not too
much to say, the latter is in a great measure dependent upon America. A
great portion of these cannot be domesticated in the former, or produced
in such quantities, as to supply the demand which custom has made
indispensable, nor upon such terms, as would enable the people of Europe
to indulge in their consumption. On the contrary, experience has
demonstrated, that all the natural productions of Europe, its olives,
and even its boasted vines, can be naturalized in some one of the
various regions of this quarter of the globe, which comprehends in
itself every climate and every soil. There is not the least doubt, that,
when the habits of the people, or the interests of the country point to
such a course, all these will be produced in sufficient quantities, not
only for domestic use, but foreign exportation.

America, thus standing in need of none of the natural productions of
Europe, and possessing within herself much more numerous, as well as
precious gifts of nature, than any other quarter of the globe, will soon
be able to dispense with the products of foreign industry. Whenever she
can command the necessary stock of knowledge, and a sufficient number of
industrious hands, which emigration, aided by her own increasing
population, will soon place at her disposal, this will inevitably take
place. Where there exist materials, and understanding to use them, the
freedom of using them at pleasure, and security in the enjoyment of the
fruits of labour, the spirit of enterprise is inevitably awakened into
life and activity, and with it must flourish every species of
industry:—

[Pg 411] “North America,” observes the author,
“at the commencement of her revolution, found herself nearly destitute
of all mechanical resources and means of resistance,—whereas now
she possesses fortifications, and plenty of military supplies of all
kinds, with the means of multiplying them, as occasion may require. She
has already formed an efficient, spirited and increasing navy, which
will before long dispute the empire of the seas; she is complete
mistress of the several branches of knowledge, and contains within
herself all the mechanical institutions requisite for the increase and
maintenance of these things. She can equip an army or a navy, without a
resort to Europe, for the most insignificant article.”

The author then goes on to express an opinion that the complete
emancipation of South America, which he anticipates as soon to happen,
will lead to similar results, in that portion of the continent, and
produce an entire and final independence, political as well as
commercial. He does not pretend to designate the precise period in which
this will take place, but confines himself to the assertion, that in the
natural and inevitable course of things, it must and will happen, after
a determined opposition from European jealousy.

An inquiry is then commenced, into the possibility that Europe will
be enabled to supply the loss of America, by means of new connexions
with the other quarters of the globe. If she cannot procure a new market
for her surplus manufactures, how is she to acquire the means of
purchasing those productions of the new world, which have become
indispensable to her existence, in the sphere she has hitherto occupied?
To do this she must not only retain in their fullest extent, all the
remaining branches of her commerce, but obtain others, by entering into
new connexions with Asia and Africa, and colonizing new regions. To do
this, not only does the necessary energy seem wanting, but Europe will
have to encounter the competition of America, with all our unequalled
celerity of enterprise, and all our rapidly increasing powers of
competition. She is much more likely to lose her remaining colonies than
to acquire new ones; and it approaches to an extreme degree of
probability, that she will be driven from many of her accustomed
branches of commerce, by the superior energy and enterprise of America,
rather than obtain new marts for her manufactures. Already the North
American cottons are finding their way to India, and banishing the
productions of the British looms from the markets of the southern
portion of this continent. The trade to China is already assuming an
entire new character, and will probably before long be carried on
without the instrumentality of Spanish dollars.

We think the positions of our author are eminently entitled to
consideration. The situation of a part of the continent of America,
south of the Isthmus of Darien, is much more favourable to a commercial
intercourse with Asia, western Africa, than that of Europe. The coast of
Guinea can be much more easily visited [Pg 412]from Caraccas, Cayenne,
and Surinam, than from any portion of Europe; and the Cape of Good Hope,
lying directly to the east of the great river La Plata, is much better
adapted to an intercourse with Rio Janeiro, and Buenos Ayres, than any
of the Dutch or English colonies. The Isles of France, Bourbon, and
Madagascar, situated between the Cape of Good Hope, and the eastern
coast of Africa, are much more suited to a communication with the new
states of South America, than with the mother countries. Such is the
case with the Philippine islands, New-Holland, the Marquesas, the
Friendly and Society islands. The geographical relations between all
these, and different portions of South America, sufficiently indicate
that when the reins shall have fallen from the hands of Europe, the
intercourse will in a great measure change its course, and centre in the
new instead of the old world.

The principle, we are aware, has been assumed, that whatever state
supports the most powerful navy for the protection of its commerce, will
always take the lead. But it hardly now remains a question, whether the
states of the new world will not be able ere long, to direct trade into
the free channel which nature herself seems to point out for all
nations, but which the exorbitant naval power of one has forced into
artificial and circuitous directions.

Europe will not for ever be able to wield the trident of the seas,
nor sway the sceptre of intellectual superiority. There is a time for
all things. There was a time when she borrowed her arts, her literature,
her refinements, and her civilization, from Asia. These are for ever
passing from one nation, and from one continent to another. The
descendents of Europeans in the new world, have not degenerated, and
possessing as they do as many advantages of situation as were ever
enjoyed by any people under the sun, with as great a field for their
exercise as was ever presented for human action, it would be departing
from the natural order of things, and the ordinary operations of the
great scheme of Providence; it would be shutting our ears to the voice
of experience, and our eyes to the inevitable connexion of causes and
their effects, were we to reject the extreme probability, not to say
moral certainty, that the old world is destined to receive its impulses
in future, from the new. Already we see the bright dawnings of this new
relation, in the universal diffusion of the spirit of emancipation,
first sought in the wilds of America. It was there that was first
lighted that spark which is now animating and stimulating the nations of
the old world to become free and happy like ourselves. The unshackled
genius of the new world is now exerting itself with gigantic vigour,
aided by the infinite treasures of nature, to strengthen its powers,
increase its commerce, its resources, and its wealth. No other [Pg
413]quarter of the globe, much less a single nation, will
eventually be able to dispute the empire of the seas, with the new
world.

We shall devote the remainder of this article to a consideration of
events which have occurred in Europe since the publication of the work
before us, which richly merits a better translation, as well as a
republication in this country. This course is necessary to our purpose,
although it is our humble opinion, that the writers and publications of
this country, give a disproportionate attention to the affairs of other
people, and of consequence, neglect our own. Let us look to ourselves;
preserve the purity of the national manners and
institutions—foster our natural and accidental advantages, and
observe, and gather lessons of wisdom as well as moderation from the
folly and excesses of rulers and people in the old superannuated world.
Above all, let us ever bear in mind and continue to act upon the
sentiment of Daniel Webster, and be careful that “while other nations
are moulding their governments after ours, we do not break the
pattern.”

The present state of Europe, we think, offers additional
probabilities to the theory laid down in the work of the Danish
philosopher. Two great principles are now approaching to a struggle,
which will, in all human probability, ere long, produce not only wars,
but the worst of wars, internal dissensions, aggravated by external
struggles with foreign powers. Although the principle of emancipation is
common to the revolution of America, and the revolutionary spirit now at
work in Europe, all other circumstances are essentially different. With
us, it was throwing off a dominion seated at a vast distance beyond the
seas, and only known among us by its representatives. In Europe, on the
contrary, it is a central power existing in the heart, and pervading
every portion of the body politic. A revolution then, must overturn
thrones, church establishments, standing armies, hereditary orders, and
prejudices hallowed by ages of reverence and submission. The whole frame
and organization of society must be dissolved, changed into new
elements, and be arranged into new forms.

The enemies of statu quo, and the genius of change, are now
arraying their respective powers, and in proportion as the people have
been debarred from all participation in the government, will be their
ardour to govern without controul. Such a struggle cannot end in a day,
or in a year,—nor will it be decided in all probability, except
through a long series of gradations, which will finally rest at last on
a basis suitable to the present state of the human mind. We cannot,
therefore, but anticipate heavy times for Europe. A long course of
internal and external wars, is fatal to the great interests of a state.
Commerce decays, and seeks other more peaceful climes—agriculture
is robbed of its labourers, and of the products of labour, [Pg 414]to
recruit and feed the armies,—and manufacturers are deprived of
their foreign purchasers. The powers of the intellect, too, are diverted
from the pursuits of science and literature, into the bloody paths of
warfare,—and thus it has ever happened, that a long continuance of
national struggles, produces a neglect of the arts of peace, and an
approach to barbarism.

Insecurity of property is one of the inevitable consequences of civil
wars. The products of the land are the common stock of plunder for both
parties, and the land itself becomes a prey to confiscation. At this
day, a vast portion of the wealth of Europe is vested in stocks, which
are still more fatally operated upon by civil wars. Their value, in
fact, becomes, in such a state of things, merely nominal; and it depends
upon the success of one or other of the parties in the struggle, whether
they again attain to their original prices, or become worthless. Such a
crisis seems fast approaching in Europe. When once the conflicting
elements of anarchy and despotism commence their warfare, who shall say
where and when it will end? Prophecy, in this case, would be
presumption,—when it does end, the result will be equally
uncertain. Whether a chastened freedom, guarantied by a fair
representation of the people in the governments, a despotism without
limits, or an anarchy without controul, is beyond the reach of human
foresight to predict.

One thing, however, we think, is certain. This unsettled state of
life, liberty and property, in Europe, will produce a vast accession of
wealth and population in the new world, and accelerate its progress to
the sceptre of intellect and power, hitherto, for so long a time,
wielded by the old. The neighbouring nations of Europe, being all nearly
in the same state of internal insecurity, afford no safe refuge to
fugitives or property, from each other—even if their national
antipathies did not present a barrier to emigration. The United States,
on the contrary, with nothing to disturb their tranquillity, but the
peaceable struggles of an election, and stretching out a hand of welcome
to all nations, and all ranks of mankind, from the exiled monarch to the
mechanic or peasant, coming in search of employment and bread, will
present a safe deposit for the wealth of Europe,—a sanctuary where
the persecuted, the harassed, and the timid spirit, may find repose from
the storms that vex his native land.

Thus, to our native energy, intelligence, and resources, will be
added a large portion of those of the other quarter of the world, and
the united result, in all human probability, must be the
fulfilment of the great prophecy, that the empire of the world was
travelling towards the setting sun. The sceptre will depart from the
east, and be wielded by the west. Power, dominion, science, literature,
and the arts, hitherto the satellites of [Pg 415]despotism, will become
the bright and beautiful handmaids of a brighter goddess than
themselves, and the glory of Europe, like that of Asia, be preserved in
her history and her traditions.

The anticipation is as rational as glorious to an American. Look at
the state of Europe once more, and separate it into its constituent
parts. Let us begin with France. What has she gained by her revolution
of July but a branch of the same tree, in the room of the rotten trunk?
Has she won freedom or repose? Not even the freedom of
complaint,—nor any other repose, but the repose of the National
Guards. What is the cry of the people of Paris? Not liberty alone, but
“give us employment and bread.” Thus irritated by a feeling of
disappointment on one hand, and goaded on by hunger, can they stop where
they are? Certainly not; it is not in the nature of man, nor the nature
of things. Two such impulses can only be satisfied by the grant of their
demands, and only quelled by force.

Look at the great rival of France on the opposite side of the
channel. The same mighty evils are at work there—discontent
aggravated by hunger. At the moment we are writing, a question is
depending in the Parliament of England, which agitates the island to its
centre, and the decision of which, either one way or other, is
acknowledged by both parties to amount to the signal of a revolution.
The opponents of the Bill of Reform maintain, that, if carried, it will
destroy the basis of the government; and the advocates assert, that, if
not carried, it will produce a revolution, originating in the
disappointment and indignation of the people.

Will the aristocracy of England—the most wealthy and powerful
aristocracy in the world—voluntarily, and without a mighty
struggle, divest themselves of one of their chief sources of power in
the state. Will they sacrifice their parliamentary influence, which
constitutes one of the regular modes and means of providing for younger
sons and poor relations? Nay, which enables them to dictate to their
sovereign? We believe not. Will the people remain quiet under the
disappointment of their newborn hopes, aggravated as it will be by
poverty and distress, among so large a number? Perhaps they will, so
long as there is an army of sixty or eighty thousand men, disposed so
happily for the protection of order in the United Kingdom, that
every breath of discontent is met by a bayonet. But let the monarchs who
maintain order in Europe, by means of standing armies, recollect
the lesson of history, which teaches us, that throughout all ages, and
countries, the power which sustained the throne by force, in the end by
force overthrew it. There is but one solid permanent support of power,
and that is, the attachment of the people.

In the present state of Europe, we incline to the opinion [Pg 416]that
the safest course for kings to take, would be to identify themselves
with the people, and become the organs of their wishes. We see no other
means for the present King of England to make head successfully against
the weight of the opposition of the church and nobility, in case he
decisively sustains the present ministry in their plans of parliamentary
reform, than to make common cause with his people, and say to them
honestly, “I have become your champion, do you become my supporters.”
The government of England is acknowledged on all hands to be a mixed
government of king, lords, and commons. Who represents the commons of
England? The House of Commons. But can it do this effectually, while a
large portion of the members are returned by the House of Lords? We
should think not. The spirit and purity of the system can only be
preserved by the commons, and the commons alone, selecting their
representatives in their own house, and not the nobility. Does the House
of Commons interfere in the same way in the creation of the members of
the House of Lords? They have no voice or influence in the business.
Why, then, should the House of Lords interfere in the election, or
appointment rather, of the members of the House of Commons? In this
point of view, therefore, we can perceive no sort of foundation for the
argument of the opponents of reform, that the measure will operate to
destroy the balance of the government. We rather think it will restore
the balance, and bring it back to the true old theory of three distinct
powers—king, lords, and commons.

We believe that the people will be satisfied with this reform for a
time, if it take place. When they shall see, as no doubt they will see,
that the burthens of the state, and consequently their own, remain the
same, or perhaps increase with the increase of those who require relief,
and the decrease of those who are able to bestow it; when they shall
find that a reform in Parliament will not give them liberal wages, or
feed their suffering families, then will they become more dissatisfied
than ever. Then, too, will the result disclose where the shoe of reform
pinched the opponents of reform. The increased representation of the
people will then enable the people to make themselves heard and
felt, and to force the government into measures that may indeed destroy
the constitution of England, if there be any such invisible being.
Whichever way we look, therefore, we perceive the same causes of
discontent, the same spirit of emancipation at work, that agitates the
continent of Europe; and so long as this state of things continues, it
requires no spirit of prophecy to predict, that England, so far from
advancing in power or intelligence, will, in all probability, invincibly
slide from the summit of power, and become the victim of internal
weakness at last.

[Pg
417]The state of Holland and Belgium, of Italy and Germany,
and Russia and Prussia, and Spain and Poland, is still more unfavourable
to arts, science, commerce, literature, and agriculture. The rulers are
employed in schemes for keeping the people in subjugation, and the
people in wresting the promised privileges from their rulers. In such a
state of things, the one party has no time to devise schemes for
enriching or enlightening the people, but is employed, on the contrary,
in placing them, as far as possible, in ignorance and poverty. The other
is so taken up with politics, that its habits of economy, steadiness,
and enterprise, are forgotten by degrees in the whirlpool of turbulent
excitement. Each and all of these countries, with the exception perhaps
of Russia, instead of advancing, will gradually recede in wealth and
intelligence, not only from internal dissensions, but on account of the
large portion of both, that will from time to time, as long as this
state of things shall last, direct its course to the new world.

The change from old to new times; from the inapplicable maxims of the
past, to the practical truths of the present, has, every where, and in
all past ages, been a period of suffering to the human race. The
approaches to this state of regeneration, are marked by turbulent
disaffection on one hand, inflexible severity on the other; its progress
is marked by the dissolution of the social ties, and its crisis with
blood and tears. The people have to encounter the most formidable
difficulties, under which they probably sink many times, before they
rise at last and make the great successive effort. These evils are
aggravated and perpetuated as long as possible, by the stern inflexible
rigidity of old-established institutions, worthless in proportion to
their obstinacy, aided by the blind besotted pride of kings, who seem
never to have learnt the lesson of yielding to the changes produced by
time and circumstance, and sacrificing gracefully, what will otherwise
be taken from them by force.

But all that is great, or good, or valuable, in this world, must be
attained by labour, perseverance, courage, and integrity. Liberty is too
valuable a blessing to be gained or preserved without the exercise of
these great virtues. It must have its victims, and its charter must be
sealed with blood. A people afraid of a bayonet, are not likely to be
free while Europe swarms with standing armies, having little or no
community of interests or feeling with those who maintain them by the
sweat of their brow. When the oppressed states of Switzerland, sent
forth patriots who made a breach in the forest of German bayonets
opposed to them, by circling them in their arms, and receiving them into
their bosoms, they deserved to be free—they became free, and their
liberties are still preserved. But so long [Pg 418]as a host often
thousand brawling and hungry malcontents, can be quieted and dispersed
by the sound of a bugle, the clattering of a horse’s hoofs, or the
glittering of a musket barrel, can such people expect to be free?
Assuredly not, we think. No where will despotism or aristocracy
peaceably resign their long established preponderance without a
struggle, and like our own revolution, the contest will at last come to
the crisis—”we must fight, Mr. Speaker, we must fight,” as
said the intrepid Patrick Henry,—and we did fight. So must Europe
if it expects emancipation. All the governments of that quarter of the
globe, are now sustained by a military force—and by force only can
they be overthrown or modified, to suit the great changes which have
taken place in the feelings and relative situation of the different
orders of society.

That the present state and future prospects of that renowned and
illustrious quarter of the globe, are ominous of a continued succession
of storms and troubles, we think appears too obvious. The night that is
approaching, will be long and dark, in all human probability—it
may end in a total regeneration—in a confirmed and inflexible
despotism; or in that precise state of things which characterized what
are called, the dark ages of Europe—in the establishment of a
hundred petty states, governed by a hundred petty tyrants, eternally at
variance, and agreeing in nothing but in oppressing the people. Great
standing armies are at present the conservators of the great powers of
Europe, and public sentiment is no longer the sole or principal cement
of empires; when these are gone, as they must be, ere the nations which
they oppress can be free, then all the little sectional and provincial
jealousies and antipathies, every real or imaginary opposition of
interests, and even feelings of personal rivalry, will have an
opportunity of coming into full play, and the result may very probably
be, the erection of a vast many petty states, which will never be
brought to act together in any great system of policy. Thus situated,
they will never be able to make head against the growing power of the
vast states of the new world, which whatever may be their minor causes
of difference, will naturally unite in those views of commercial policy,
which being common to all, will be sought by a common effort.

The South American states, it is true, have not yet realized the
blessings of emancipation, partly owing to their inexperience in the
practical secrets of civil liberty; partly to the want of public virtue
in the people, and their rulers, and partly, as we are much inclined to
suspect, to the secret intrigues of more than one European power. But
their natural and inevitable tendency is, we believe, towards a stable
government, combining a complete independence of foreign powers, with
such a portion of civil liberty as may suit their present circumstances
and situation. [Pg 419]They are serving their
apprenticeship—they will soon be out of their time, and may safely
set up for themselves.

But, however doubtful may be the final result of the great struggle
between the kings and the people—or of the aristocracy and the
people—for this seems to be the real struggle after
all—whatever may be its final result, one thing is certain as
fate. While it continues, it must inevitably arrest the prosperity of
Europe, such as it is, and force it to retrograde for a time. Instead of
devoting their attention to the interests of the nation abroad, and
encouraging the industry and intelligence of the people at home, kings
will be employed in watching and restraining their subjects. Fearing the
intelligence and wealth, as the means of increasing their discontents as
well as their power, they will seek to diminish both by new restraints
or new exactions; and thus the best ends of government will be perverted
to purposes of ignorance and oppression. This is the history of the
degradation, and consequent internal weakness of all nations, and a
perseverance in such a course in Europe, will only afford another
example, that the same effects proceed from similar causes, every where,
and at all times.

In the mean while, as oppression, civil wars, internal disaffection,
anarchy, and expatriation of wealth and numbers, all combined, are
gradually undermining the strength of Europe, and draining her veins,
the new world will be, in all human probability, every day acquiring
what the old is losing. If she once pass the other, if it be only by the
breadth of a single hair, it is scarcely to be anticipated that age and
decrepitude will ever be able to regain the vantage ground, against the
primitive energies of vigorous youth. Once ahead, and the new world will
remain so, until the ever revolving course of time, and the revolutions
it never fails to accomplish, shall perhaps again transfer to Asia the
sceptre of arts, science, literature, power, and dominion, which was
wrested from her by Europe.

To realize these bold anticipations, nothing seems necessary but for
the people of the United States to bear in mind, that they are the
patriarchs of modern emancipation—that the spark which animates
the people of Europe was caught from them—that they led the way in
the great common cause of all mankind—that the eyes of the
world are upon them—and that they stand under a solemn obligation
to do nothing themselves, to suffer their leaders to do nothing, which
shall bring the sacred name of liberty into disgrace, or endanger the
integrity of our great confederation. “While other nations are
moulding their governments after ours, may we not destroy the
pattern.“

[4]
Hutchinson’s History of Massachusetts, Vol. I, pages 84, 85.

[Pg
420]Art. VII.—Speeches
and Forensic Arguments, by Daniel
Webster: 8vo. pp. 520. Boston: 1830.

It has often enough been objected to books written and
published in the United States, that they want a national air, tone, and
temper. Unhappily, too, the complaint has not unfrequently been well
founded; but the volume before us is a striking exception to all such
remarks. It consists of a collection of Mr. Webster’s Public Addresses,
Speeches in Congress, and Forensic Arguments, printed chiefly from
pamphlets, already well known; and it is marked throughout, to an
uncommon degree, with the best characteristics of a generous
nationality. No one, indeed, can open it, without perceiving that,
whatever it contains, must have been the work of one born and educated
among our free institutions,—formed in their spirit, and animated
and sustained by their genius and power. The subjects discussed, and the
interests maintained in it, are entirely American; and many of them are
so important, that they are already become prominent parts of our
history. As we turn over its pages, therefore, and see how completely
Mr. Webster has identified himself with the great institutions of the
country, and how they, in their turn, have inspired and called forth the
greatest efforts of his uncommon mind, we feel as if the sources of his
strength, and the mystery by which it controuls us, were, in a
considerable degree, interpreted. We feel that, like the fabulous giant
of antiquity, he gathers it from the very earth that produced him; and
our sympathy and interest, therefore, are excited, not less by the
principle on which his power so much depends, than by the subjects and
occasions on which it is so strikingly put forth. We understand better
than we did before, not only why we have been drawn to him, but why the
attraction that carried us along, was at once so cogent and so
natural.

When, however, such a man appears before the nation, the period of
his youth and training is necessarily gone by. It is only as a
distinguished member of the General Government,—probably in one of
the two Houses of Congress, that he first comes, as it were, into the
presence of the great mass of his countrymen. But, before he can arrive
there, he has, in the vast majority of cases, reached the full stature
of his strength, and developed all the prominent peculiarities of his
character. Much, therefore, of what is most interesting in relation to
him,—much of what goes to make up his individuality and momentum,
and without which, neither his elevation nor his conduct can be fully
understood or estimated, is known only in the circle of his private
friends, or, at most, in that section of the country from which he
derives his origin. In this way, we are ignorant of [Pg 421]much
that it concerns us to know about many of our distinguished statesmen;
but about none, probably, are we more relatively ignorant than about Mr.
Webster, who is eminently one of those persons, whose professional and
political career cannot be fairly or entirely understood, unless we have
some acquaintance with the circumstances of his origin, and of his early
history, taken in connection with his whole public life. We were,
therefore, disappointed, on opening the present volume, not to find
prefixed to it a full biographical notice of him. We were, indeed, so
much disappointed and felt so fully persuaded, that neither the contents
of the volume itself, nor the sources of its author’s power, nor his
position before the nation, could be properly comprehended without it,
that we determined at once to connect whatever we should say on any of
these subjects, by such notices of his life, as we might be able to
collect under unfavourable circumstances. We only regret that our
efforts have not been more successful,—and that our notices,
therefore, are few and imperfect.

Mr. Webster was born in Salisbury, a farming town of New-Hampshire,
at the head of the Merrimack, in 1782. His father, always a farmer, was
a man of a strongly marked and vigorous character,—full of
decision, integrity, firmness, and good sense. He served under Lord
Amherst, in the French war, that ended in 1763; and, in the war of the
Revolution, he commanded a company chiefly composed of his own
towns-people and friends, who gladly fought under his leading nearly
every campaign, and at whose head he was found, in the battle of
Bennington, at the White Plains, and at West-Point, when Arnold’s
treason was discovered. He died about the year 1806; and, at the time of
his death, had filled, for many years, the office of Judge of the Court
of Common Pleas, for the state of New-Hampshire.

But, during the early part of Mr. Webster’s life, the place of his
birth, now the centre of a flourishing and happy population, was on the
frontiers of civilization. His father had been one of the very first
settlers, and had even pushed further into the wilderness than the rest,
so that the smoke sent up amidst the solitude of the forest, from the
humble dwelling in which Mr. Webster was himself born, marked, for some
time, the ultimate limit of New England adventure at the North.
Undoubtedly, in any other country, the sufferings, privations, and
discouragements inevitable in such a life, would have precluded all
thought of intellectual culture. But, in New England, ever since the
first free school was established amidst the woods that covered the
peninsula of Boston, in 1636, the school-master has been found on the
border line between savage and civilized life, often indeed with an axe
to open his own path, but always looked up [Pg 422]to with respect, and
always carrying with him a valuable and preponderating influence.

It is to this characteristic trait of New England policy, that we owe
the first development of Mr. Webster’s powers, and the original
determination of his whole course in life; for, unless the school had
sought him in the forest, his father’s means would not have been
sufficient to send him down into the settlements to seek the school. The
first upward step, therefore, would have been wanting; and it is not at
all probable, that any subsequent exertions on his own part, would have
enabled him to retrieve it. The value of such a benefit cannot, indeed,
be measured; but it seems to have been his good fortune to be able in
part, at least, to repay it; for no man has explained with such
simplicity and force as he has explained them, the very principles and
foundations on which the free schools of New England rest, or shown,
with such a feeling of their importance and value, how truly the free
institutions of our country must be built on the education of all. We
allude now to his remarks in the Convention of Massachusetts, where,
speaking of the support of schools, he says:—

How Mr. Webster’s education was advanced immediately after he left
these primary schools, is, we believe, not known. It was, however, with
great sacrifices on the part of his family, and severe struggles on his
own. At last, when he was fifteen or sixteen years old, after a very
imperfect preparation, he was entered at Dartmouth College; at least, so
we infer, for he was graduated there in 1801. What were his principal or
favourite pursuits during the three or four years of his academic life,
we do not know. We remember, however, to have met formerly, one of his
classmates, who spoke with the liveliest interest of the generous and
delightful spirit he showed among his earliest friends and competitors,
in the midst of whom, he manifested, from the first, aspirations
entirely beyond his condition, and, when the first year was passed,
developed faculties which left all rivalship far behind him. Indeed, it
is known, in many ways, that, by those who were acquainted with him at
this period of his life, he was already regarded as a marked man; and
that, to the more sagacious of them, the honours of his subsequent
career have not been unexpected.

Immediately after leaving college, he began the study of the law in
the place of his nativity, with Mr. Thompson, soon afterwards a member
of Congress; a gentleman who, from the elevation of his character, was
able to comprehend that of his pupil and contribute to unfold its
powers. But the res augustæ domi pressed hard upon him. He was
compelled to exert himself for his own support; and his professional
studies were frequently interrupted and impaired by pursuits, which
ended only in obtaining what was needful for his mere subsistence.

Circumstances connected with his condition and wants at this time,
led him to Boston, and carried him, when there, into the office of Mr.
Gore. This was, undoubtedly, one of the deciding circumstances of his
life. Mr. Gore was a lawyer of eminence, and a gentleman, in the
loftiest and most generous meaning of the word. His history was already
connected with that of the country. He had been appointed district
attorney of the United States for Massachusetts, by Washington; he had
served in England as our commissioner under Jay’s treaty; and he was
afterwards governor of his native state, and its senator in Congress.
His whole character, private, political, and professional, from its
elevation, purity and dignity, was singularly fitted to influence a
young man of quick and generous feelings, who already perceived within
himself the impulse of talents and the stirrings of an ambition whose
direction was yet to be determined. Mr. Webster felt, that it was well
for him to be there; [Pg 424]and Mr. Gore obtained an influence over
his young mind, which the peculiarly kind and frank manners of the
instructer permitted early to ripen into an intimacy and friendship that
were interrupted only by death.

Mr. Webster finished the study of his profession in Boston, and was
there admitted to the bar in 1805;—Mr. Gore, who presented him,
venturing, at the time, to make a prediction to the court respecting his
pupil’s future eminence, which has been hardly more than fulfilled by
all his present fame. At first, he began the practice of his profession
in Boscawen, a small village adjacent to the place of his birth; but in
1807, he removed to Portsmouth, where, no doubt, he thought he was
establishing himself for life.

As a young lawyer, about to lay the foundations for future success,
his portion could, perhaps, hardly have been rendered more fortunate and
happy than it was now in Portsmouth. He rose rapidly in general regard,
and was, therefore, almost at once, ranked with the first in his
profession in his native state. Of course, his associations and
intercourse were with the first minds. And, happily for one like him,
the presiding judge of the highest tribunal in New-Hampshire was then
Mr. Smith, afterwards governor of the state, whose native clearness of
perception, acuteness, and power, united to faithful and accurate
learning in his profession, and the soundest and most practical wisdom
in the fulfilment of his duties on the bench, and in his intercourse
with the bar, gave him naturally and necessarily great influence over
its younger members. Mr. Webster, as the most prominent among them, came
much in contact with him, and profited much from his sagacious foresight
and wise and discriminating kindness. He came, too, still more in
contact with Mr. Mason, afterwards a senator in Congress, and then and
still the leading counsel in New-Hampshire. Mr. Mason was his senior by
several years, but there was no other adversary capable of encountering
him; and the intellect with which Mr. Webster was thus called to contend
on equal terms was one of the highest order, of ample resources, and of
the quickest penetration; whose original reach, firm grasp, and
unsparing logic, left no safety for an adversary, but in a vigour,
readiness and skill, which could never be taken unprepared or at
disadvantage. It was a severe school; but there is little reason to
doubt, Mr. Webster owes to its stern and rugged discipline much of that
intellectual training and power, which render him, in his turn, so
formidable an adversary. He owes to it, also, notwithstanding their
uniform and daily opposition in court, the no less uniform personal
friendship of Mr. Mason in private life.

It was in the midst, however, of this period, both of discipline and
success as a lawyer, in New-Hampshire, that he entered [Pg
425]public life. In the government of his native state, we
believe, he never took office of any kind; and his first political
place, therefore, was in the thirteenth Congress of the United States.
He was chosen in 1812, soon after the declaration of war; and as he was
then hardly thirty years old, he must have been one of the youngest
members of that important Congress. His position there was difficult,
and he felt it to be so. He
was opposed to the policy of the war; he represented a state earnestly
opposed to it; and he had always, especially in the eloquent and
powerful memorial from the great popular meeting in Rockingham,
expressed himself fully and frankly on the whole subject. But he was now
called into the councils of the government, which was carrying on the
war itself. He felt it to be his duty, therefore, to make no factious
opposition to the measures essential to maintain the dignity and honour
of the country; to make no opposition for opposition’s sake; though, at
the same time, he felt it to be no less his duty, to take good heed that
neither the constitution, nor the essential interests of the nation,
were endangered or sacrificed—ne quid detrimenti respublica
accipiat. This, indeed, seems to have been his motto up to the time
of the peace; and his tone in relation to it is always manly, bold, and
decisive. When Mr. Monroe’s bill for a sort of conscription was
introduced, he joined with Mr. Eppes, and other friends of the
administration, in defeating a project, which, except in a moment of
great anxiety and excitement, would probably have found no defenders.
But when, on the other hand, the bill for “encouraging enlistments” was
before the house, he held, in January 1814, the following strong and
striking language, in which, now the passions of that stormy period are
hushed, all will sympathize.

“The humble aid which it would be in my power to
render to measures of government, shall be given cheerfully, if
government will pursue measures which I can conscientiously support. If,
even now, failing in an honest and sincere attempt to procure a just and
honourable peace, it will return to measures of defence and protection,
such as reason, and common sense, and the public opinion, all call for,
my vote shall not be withholden from the means. Give up your futile
projects of invasion. Extinguish the fires that blaze on your inland
frontiers. Establish perfect safety and defence there by adequate force.
Let every man that sleeps on your soil sleep in security. Stop the blood
that flows from the veins of unarmed yeomanry, and women and children.
Give to the living time to bury and lament their dead, in the quietness
of private sorrow. Having performed this work of beneficence and mercy
on your inland border, turn, and look with the eye of justice and
compassion on your vast population along the coast. Unclench the iron
grasp of your embargo. Take measures for that end before another sun
sets upon you. With all the war of the enemy on your commerce, if you
would cease to make war upon it yourselves, you would still have some
commerce. That commerce would give you some revenue. Apply that revenue
to the augmentation of your navy. That navy, in turn, will protect your
commerce. Let it no longer be said, that not one ship of force, built by
your hands since the war, yet floats upon the ocean. Turn the current of
your efforts into the channel, which national sentiment has already
[Pg
426]worn broad and deep to receive it. A naval force,
competent to defend your coast against considerable armaments, to convoy
your trade, and perhaps raise the blockade of your rivers, is not a
chimera. It may be realized. If, then, the war must continue, go to the
ocean. If you are seriously contending for maritime rights, go to the
theatre, where alone those rights can be defended. Thither every
indication of your fortunes points you. There the united wishes and
exertions of the nation will go with you. Even our party divisions,
acrimonious as they are, cease at the water’s edge. They are lost in
attachment to the national character, on the element where that
character is made respectable. In protecting naval interests by naval
means, you will arm yourselves with the whole power of national
sentiment, and may command the whole abundance of the national resource.
In time, you may be enabled to redress injuries in the place where they
may be offered; and, if need be, to accompany your own flag throughout
the world with the protection of your own cannon.”^[5] Speech, pp. 14, 15.

Later in the same Congress, the subject of the establishment and
principles of a national bank came into discussion, and the finances of
the country being then greatly embarrassed, this subject rose to
paramount importance, and absorbed much of the attention of Congress up
to the moment when the annunciation of peace put a period, for the time,
to all such debates. On the whole matter of the bank and the currency,
Congress was divided into three parties. First, those who were against a
national bank under any form. These persons consisted chiefly of the
remains of the old party, which had originally opposed the establishment
of the first bank in Washington’s time, in 1791, and in 1811 had
prevented the renewal of its charter. They were, however, generally,
friends of the existing administration, whose position now called
strongly for the creation of a new bank; and, therefore, while they
usually voted on preliminary and incidental measures with the favourers
of a bank, they voted, on the final passage of the bill, against it; so
that it was much easier to defeat the whole of any one project, than to
carry through any modification of it. Second, there was a [Pg
427]party consisting almost entirely of friends of the
administration, who wished for a bank, provided it were such a one as
they thought would not only regulate the currency of the country, and
facilitate the operations of the government, but also afford present and
important aid by heavy loans, which the bank was to be compelled to
make, and to enable it to do which, it was to be relieved from the
necessity of paying its notes in specie;—in other words, it was a
party that wished to authorize and establish a paper currency for the
whole country. The third party wished for a bank with a moderate
capital, compelled always to redeem its notes with specie, and at
liberty to judge for itself, when it would, and when it would not, make
loans to the government.

The second party, of course, was the one that introduced into
Congress the project for a bank at this time. The bill was originally
presented to the Senate; and its main features were, that the bank
should absorb a large amount of the depreciated public debt of the
United States, and grant to the government heavy loans on the security
of a similar debt to be created; that its capital should consist of
fifty millions of dollars, of which five millions only were to be
specie, and the rest depreciated government securities; and that the
bank, when required, should lend the government thirty millions. At the
time when this plan was brought forward, all the numerous state banks
south of New-England had refused to redeem their notes, or, as it was
called “to ears polite,” had “suspended specie payments,” in consequence
of which, their notes had fallen in value from 10 to 25 per cent., and
specie, of course, had risen proportionally in value, and disappeared
from circulation entirely. To afford the contemplated national bank any
chance for carrying on its operations, or even for beginning them, it
was to be authorized “to suspend specie payments,” which meant, that it
was to be authorized never to begin them; for, without this authority,
their specie would be drained the moment their notes should be issued
equal to its amount. On the other hand, all the taxes and revenues of
the government were to be receivable in the paper of the bank, however
much it might fall in value. In short, the whole scheme was one of those
vast Serbonian bogs, where, from the days of Laws’s Mississippi Company,
armies whole of legislators and projectors have sunk, without leaving
even a monument behind them to warn their followers of their fate.

We must not, however, be extravagantly astonished, that a project
which we now know was in its nature so wild and dangerous, should have
found favourers and advocates. The finances of the country were then in
a critical, and even distressing position; and all men were anxious to
devise some means to relieve [Pg 428]them. A large part of the nation, too,
sincerely entertained the chimerical notion, now universally exploded,
that it was practicable to establish and maintain a safe and stable
paper currency, even when not convertible into specie at the pleasure of
the holder; and the example of England and its national bank was
referred to with effect, though, from its history since, the same
example could now be referred to with double effect on the other side of
the discussion. After an earnest and able debate, then, the bill, on the
whole, passed the Senate, and it was understood that a considerable
majority of the House of Representatives was in its favour.

When brought there on the 9th of December, 1814, it excited a very
animated discussion, which, with various interruptions from the forms
and rules of the House, references to committees, and occasional
adjournments, was continued till the 2d of January. In this protracted
debate Mr. Webster took a conspicuous part; and his efforts, of which
the speech now published is but an inconsiderable item, did much to
avert the threatened evil, and to establish his reputation, not merely
as an eloquent and powerful debater, which had already been settled in
the previous session, but as a sagacious and sound statesman.

His principal opposition to the bill was made on the last day of its
discussion. He then introduced a series of resolutions, bringing the
bank proposed within the limits of the specie-paying principle, and
taking off from it the restraints, which placed it too much within the
power of the government to make it useful as a monied institution,
either to the finances or to the commerce of the country. The objections
to the plan then before Congress, and the disasters that would probably
follow its adoption, he portrayed in the following strong language,
which none, however, will now think to have been too strong.

The resolutions proposed by Mr. Webster, and supported in this
speech, were not passed. Probably he did not expect them to pass, when
he proposed them; but the same day, the main question was taken upon the
passage of the bill itself; and, as it was rejected by the casting vote
of the speaker, there can be no reasonable doubt, that without his
exertions this portentous absurdity would not have been defeated. It is
but justice, however, to the supporters of the measure, to say, that the
mischievous consequences of its adoption, were by no means so apparent
then as they are now. We have since had no little experience on the
whole matter. It required all the power and influence of the general
government, and of the present sound and specie-paying Bank of the
United States, acting vigorously in concert for several years after the
war, to relieve the country from the flood of depreciated notes of the
state banks with which it was inundated, and to restore a safe and
uniform currency. When or how this evil could have been remedied, if, at
the very close of the war, it had been almost indefinitely increased by
the establishment of a vast machine, issuing every day as much
irredeemable paper as would be taken at any and every discount, and thus
co-operating with the evil itself, instead of opposing it, is more than
any man will now be bold enough to conjecture. We should, no doubt, have
been in bondage to it to this hour, and probably left it as a yoke upon
the necks of our children.

But, at the time referred to, the necessities of the government were
urgent; and, on motion of Mr. Webster, the rule that prevented [Pg 430]a
reconsideration at the same session of a subject thus disposed of, was
suspended the very next day, and a bill for a bank was on the same day,
January 3, recommitted to a select committee. On the 6th, the committee
reported a specie-paying bank, with a much diminished capital, which was
carried in the house, with the fewest possible forms, on the 7th; Mr.
Webster and most of his friends voting for it. It passed the senate,
too, though with some difficulty; but was refused by the president, on
the ground, that it was not sufficient to meet the exigencies of the
case, which, indeed, we now know, no bank would have been able to meet.
This project, however, being thus rejected, another was immediately
introduced into the senate, the basis of which was to be laid, like that
of the first bank proposed, in a paper currency. It passed that body;
but on being brought into the house met a severe and determined
opposition, which ceased only when, on the 17th, the news of peace being
received, the bill was indefinitely postponed.

Mr. Webster’s exertions, however, on the subject of the currency, did
not cease with the overthrow of the paper bank system. He was re-elected
to New-Hampshire for the fourteenth Congress, and sat there during the
sessions of 1815-16; and 1816-17. The whole state of things in the
nation was now changed. The war was over, and the great purpose of sound
statesmanship was therefore to bring the healing and renovating
influences of peace into the administration and finances of the country.
The present bank was chartered in April 1816, and was placed,
substantially on the principles maintained in Mr. Webster’s resolutions
of the preceding year. But still it seemed doubtful whether this
institution, however wisely managed, would alone have power enough to
restore a sound currency. The small depreciated notes of the state banks
south of New-England, still filled the land with their loathed
intrusion; and, what was worse, the revenue of the general government,
receivable at the different custom-houses, was collected in this
degraded paper, to the great injury of the finances of the country, and
to the still greater injury of the property of private individuals, who,
in different states, paid, of course, different rates of duties to the
treasury, according to the value of the paper medium in which it
happened to be received. Mr. Webster foresaw the mischiefs that must
follow from this state of things, if a remedy were not speedily applied.
He, therefore, in the same month of April 1816, introduced a resolution,
the effect of which was, to require the revenue of the United States to
be collected and received only in the legal currency of the United
States, or in bills equal to that currency in value.

In stating the nature of the evil, after showing by what means [Pg 431]the
paper of the state banks south of New-England had become depreciated; he
says,—

“What still farther increases the evil is, that
this bank paper being the issue of very many institutions, situated in
different parts of the country, and possessing different degrees of
credit, the depreciation has not been, and is not now, uniform
throughout the United States. It is not the same at Baltimore as at
Philadelphia, nor the same at Philadelphia as at New-York. In
New-England, the banks have not stopped payment in specie, and of course
their paper has not been depressed at all. But the notes of banks which
have ceased to pay specie, have nevertheless been, and still are,
received for duties and taxes in the places where such banks exist. The
consequence of all this is, that the people of the United States pay
their duties and taxes in currencies of different values, in different
places. In other words, taxes and duties are higher in some places than
they are in others, by as much as the value of gold and silver is
greater than the value of the several descriptions of bank paper which
are received by government. This difference in relation to the paper of
the District where we now are, is twenty-five per cent. Taxes and
duties, therefore, collected in Massachusetts, are one quarter higher
than the taxes and duties which are collected, by virtue of the same
laws, in the District of Columbia.” Pp. 233-4.

A little further on, after showing that if this state of things is
not changed by the government, it will be likely to change the
government itself, he adds,—

The doctrine of this speech is as important as it is true. A sound
and uniform currency is essential, not only for the convenient and safe
management of the fiscal concerns of a government; [Pg 432]but,
no less so, for the security of private property. It is, indeed, at once
the standard and basis of all transfer and exchange; and, whenever the
circulating medium has become much deranged in any country, it has been
found an arduous, and sometimes a dangerous task, to restore it to a
sound state. The effort almost necessarily brings on a conflict between
the two great classes of debtor and creditor, into which every community
is divided,—the creditor claiming the highest standard of value in
the currency, and the debtor the lowest; and the results of such a
conflict have not unfrequently been found in changes, convulsions, and
political revolution. From such a conflict we were saved in this
country, by the defeat of the paper-currency bank proposed in
1814,—by the establishment of the present specie paying bank, and
by the adoption of Mr. Webster’s resolution, which was approved by the
President on the 30th of April, 1816.

It was at this period, however, that Mr. Webster determined to change
his residence, and, of course, to retire for a time at least, from
public life. He had now lived in Portsmouth nine years; and they had
been to him years of great happiness in his private relations, and, in
his relations to the country, years of remarkable advancement and
honour. But, in the disastrous fire, which, in 1813, destroyed a large
part of that devoted town, he had sustained a heavy loss, which the
means and opportunities offered by his profession in New Hampshire were
not likely to repair. He determined, therefore, to establish himself in
a larger capital, where his resources would be more ample, and, in the
summer of 1816, removed to Boston, where he has ever since resided.

His object now was professional occupation, and he devoted himself to
it for six or eight years exclusively, with unremitting assiduity,
refusing to accept office, or to mingle in political discussion. His
success corresponded to his exertions. He was already known as a
distinguished lawyer in his native state; and the two terms he had
served in Congress, had placed him, notwithstanding his comparative
youth, among the prominent statesmen of the country. His rank as a
jurist, in the general regard of the nation, was now no less speedily
determined. Like many other eminent members of the profession, however,
who have rarely been able to select at first what cases should be
entrusted to them, it was not for him to arrange or determine the time
and the occasion, when his powers should be decisively measured and made
known. We must, therefore, account it for a fortunate accident, though
perhaps one of those accidents granted only to talent like his, that the
occasion was the well known case of Dartmouth College; and, we must add,
as a circumstance no less fortunate, that the forum where he was [Pg
433]called to defend the principles of this great cause, and
where he did defend them so triumphantly, was that of the Supreme Court
of the United States, at Washington.