The people of Carolina, who dwell in the lower country, are annually

compelled to leave their homes, however attached to them. None can

travel without gaining knowledge, and losing prejudices, and the

Carolinians are, to a great degree, liberal and intelligent. To

remain in summer on the plantations, is at the risk of life; they are

therefore found, at that season, in the northern and eastern states,

and in Europe. They are social, and in general closely united. In New

England, gentlemen of neighboring towns are often unacquainted with

each other; but in Carolina, the acquaintance extends over the state.

This arises from the intercourse of the capital, where all are found in

spring, and from the fellowships that are formed in packets, or while

residing or travelling in other states.

It may be thought that the life of a southern agriculturist is one of

indolence and ease. It is the very reverse; it is one of far greater

activity than is led by gentlemen of wealth elsewhere. The cares of a

plantation are sufficient to consume the day, and the planter is often

on horseback in his fields, till evening. His notions of space are

so liberal, that he will readily ride a dozen miles to dine, and he

engages in the chase with his characteristic ardor. No men ride so

fearlessly; and the game is followed at full speed in thick woods,

among holes, horizontal branches, and prostrate trunks. The social

relations are admirable. The season for visiting is never over, and as

the social is as much increased as any other principle, by cultivation,

here it attains to its best growth. There is, among relatives, great

kindliness of feeling, and the circle it embraces is wider than in New

England. Any one may, as far as affinity can be traced,

‘Claim kindred there, and have his claim allowed.’

Gentlemen meet at frequent intervals in club houses, often built in the

woods, where the entertainment is furnished by each one in turn.

The people of the south have more haughtiness, courtesy, and a higher

estimation of personal dignity, than those of the north. Pride is the

natural consequence of superiority of station, though it is generally

incompatible with meanness. A planter would be more apt to do what he

would be sorry for, than what he would be ashamed of. A slight wound of

pride is more strictly avenged, than a greater injury to property; and

a lack of courtesy is perhaps as much reprobated as a breach in morals.

Duelling is the natural growth of such a state, and though it is not

frequent, it is but too well established by custom. The challenged is

held to fight, even if he feel no resentment, or has done no injustice;

and he sometimes perils his life for mere expediency: as he would put

it to some risk to preserve his property, he is led to believe that he

must do it also to save his character.

‘The poles,’ says a recent traveller, ‘are not more diametrically

opposed, than a native of the states south of the Potomac, and a New

Englander. They differ in every thing of thought, feeling, and opinion.

The latter is a man of regular and decorous habits, shrewd, intelligent,

and persevering; phlegmatic in temperament, devoted to the pursuits

of gain, and envious of those who are more successful than himself.

The former――I speak of the opulent and educated――is distinguished by

a high-mindedness, generosity, and hospitality, by no means predicable

of his more eastern neighbors. He values money only for the enjoyments

it can procure, is fond of gayety, given to social pleasures, somewhat

touchy and choleric, and as eager to avenge an insult as to show a

kindness. To fight a duel in the New England states would, under almost

any circumstances, be disgraceful. To refuse a challenge, to tolerate

even an insinuation derogatory from personal honor, would be considered

equally so in the South.

‘In point of manner, the southern gentlemen are decidedly superior to

all others of the union. Being more dependent on social intercourse,

they are at greater pains, perhaps, to render it agreeable. There

is more spirit and vivacity about them, and far less of that prudent

caution, which, however advantageous on the exchange, is by no means

prepossessing at the dinner-table, or in the drawing-room. When at

Washington, I was a good deal thrown into the society of members from

the South, and left it armed, by their kindness, with a multitude of

letters, of which I regret that my hurried progress did not permit me

to avail myself. Many of them were men of much accomplishment, and I

think it probable that Englishmen, unconnected with business, would

generally prefer the society of gentlemen of this portion of the union,

to any other which the country affords.’

The amusements and occupations of the people inhabiting the valley of

the Mississippi afford no great scope to the pen of the true chronicler,

though they have often furnished materials for the foreign traveller

and the novelist. A new country, inhabited by what may be called, in

some sort, a new people, must, however, present some scenes which may

serve to amuse, if not to instruct.[91]

New Orleans seems, by common consent, to be the focus in which the

eccentricities of Missouri, Kentucky, and the rest of the western

country concentrate. Here are seen the Spaniard with his lazo, the

Kentuckian with his _broad-horn_, or flat-bottomed ark, the merchant

from Europe or the New England states, stepping stately from the deck

of his ship, the slave with his burthen on his shoulders, and the

gambler looking out for his prey. Not the least interesting of the

classes of this heterogenous population, are the women who have not

the pure white complexion of the Atlantic coast, or the crisp locks

and bent limbs of their remote African ancestors. These females hold

an anomalous position among the races by whom they are surrounded,

which will require some further comment. They are called _quadroons_,

_mustees_, _mulattoes_, &c. as the purity of their parentage or the

circumstances of their birth may require.

These women, being generally the offspring of white men of standing and

respectability, are left in singularly unfortunate circumstances. They

have the feelings, and, in a considerable degree, the education and

sentiments of their more pure-blooded countrywomen. Nevertheless, the

prejudice, or feeling, be it natural or not, which inclines every free

white American to view the whole African race as an inferior order of

mankind, prevents any legitimate union with them. So situated, they

make the best of the condition into which the accident of birth, and

not their own fault, has thrown them. They form temporary connections

with such respectable whites as are able to maintain them in ease,

and attachments are often formed, which are not surpassed, or scarcely

equalled, by any of which we read in romance. However, the connection

is generally considered in the light of a bargain. The mother

promenades with her fairer daughter on the levee, till some white

stranger, smitten with the charms of the latter, makes a proposal.

A bargain is made, limited in time, or unlimited, according to

circumstances, and a breach of faith, thus plighted, rarely occurs.

This connection, infamous as it seems, involves no disgrace in New

Orleans. It is the most respectable condition to which a female, who

is conscious of the taint of black blood, can aspire. She is neither

shunned nor scorned, and may hold up her head in any company into which

she may happen to enter.

Strange scenes sometimes occur, in consequence of the mixture of races

on the banks of the levee of New Orleans. The small trader tries to

take advantage of all with whom he is thrown in contact. The Indian

begs, the over-wrought slave groans, the backwoodsman bullies. ‘Twenty

dollars,’ cried a Kentuckian boatman, stepping upon the levee, ‘to any

man who stops my moderate head-way.’ A Mexican hunter of wild horses,

who rode quietly behind him, threw his lazo over his head, wheeled his

horse short round, and gallopped up the levee, dragging the boaster

after him.

Gaming is practised in New Orleans, probably to a greater extent than

in any other part of the United States. The vice being considered

little or no shame, houses are kept openly. This may be considered one

great well-spring of social corruption.

The inhabitants of the states on the Ohio and Mississippi raise great

quantities of grain, not to speak of pork and other commodities which

bring profit to American agriculturists. New Orleans is the mart where

these articles find a vent, and the principal object of a western

farmer is to get them thither. To this effect, he builds what he calls

a _flat_ boat, that is to say, a large square box, without a lid,

capable of containing and transporting many tons. The materials of this

vehicle are found in abundance all over the valley of the Mississippi,

and the cost of building it is therefore small. In this bark the farmer

commits himself to the waters, and if he escapes snags, sawyers, &c.

which usually happens, he arrives in New Orleans, where he disposes of

his produce. Keel boats are also used for the transportation of goods

and produce, but since steamboats have become common on the Mississippi

waters, they have in a great measure superseded the aforesaid means

of conveyance. Still, the keel and flat boats may merit a description.

The former were nearly in the form of the packets used on the Erie

and Middlesex canals, and were propelled by poles, oars, and sails.

The latter were unmanagable hulks, which floated at the mercy of the

current, and could only be diverted from rocks, snags, and other perils

of river navigation, by the use of sweeps, which, however, could only

move them in a lateral direction. On arriving at New Orleans, their

owners broke them up, as no human power could have taken them up stream,

and sold them for fire wood. They then returned to their homes by land.

Flat and keel boats are now rarely seen on the western waters; but when

they were the only means of transportation, they reared a hardy class,

fit to fight with Indians, or to subdue the wilderness. This class,

thanks to steam navigation, is now on the verge of extinction, and the

valley of the Mississippi has seen ‘the Last of the Boatmen.’

‘King balls’ are still in vogue in this region, both in the white and

free colored classes. A ball is given, precisely like those known in

other parts of the United States, excepting in one particular. He who

gives the ball, singles out a lady whom he designates his ‘queen,’

to whom he gives, and who receives, his exclusive attention, for the

remainder of the season. The other guests do likewise, and the _queens_

frequently receive presents to a large amount, before the temporary

connection is dissolved. Evil is seldom, if ever, known to come of this

custom.

Rough athletic sports, racing and shooting matches, are the most common

amusements of the men of the west. It is common for parties to test

their marksmanship by squirrel shooting, with the western weapon, the

rifle. The hunter aims solely at the head of the little animal, and the

shot which takes effect in any other part is reckoned as nothing. The

rifle used in this and other sports, is very different from those used

by volunteer companies in the eastern states, the barrel being very

heavy, the bore small, and the sights adjusted with scrupulous accuracy.

Hence the proverbial marksmanship of the backwoodsmen, so apparent

at New Orleans and elsewhere. The feats of individual hunters almost

transcend belief. Some have been known to throw two apples into the

air, and strike them both with a single bullet as they crossed each

other, and it is not uncommon for one man to hold up a small object for

another to shoot at. The celebrated ‘Mike Fink’ used to amuse himself

by shooting off the tails of swine, as they ran, and hitting his wife’s

comb upon her head.

A pastime is sometimes practised at weddings and other high festive

occasions, which is called a _goose_ or _gander_ pulling. The manner

is this. The toughest goose is selected from the flock, and its neck is

stripped of its feathers, and then well soaped or greased. A suitable

tree is next selected, an oak or hickory being preferred. The feet of

the fowl are then made fast to the extremity of a pliant limb, about

as high as a man on horseback can reach. Bets are made, and a prize

proposed. The first sportsman rides under the tree at full speed, and

snatches at the neck of the devoted fowl as he passes. If he succeeds

in pulling off its head, he gains the prize; but this rarely happens

at the first trial. The neck is too slippery, the animal sees and

avoids the horseman’s grasp, and the swaying branch aids its efforts.

Besides, the exploit requires no little strength of arm, and is

seldom accomplished without sundry falls and bruises; all of which

are considered matter of merriment.

The slaves of that section have little amusement, save what they

derive from their constitutional good humor. Dances and corn huskings,

or _shuckings_, are their chief pastimes. After laboring hard all day,

the negro will cheerfully run to a dance, half a score of miles off,

and get back to his toil before morning. A corn shucking is a matter

of more importance. The sable helots sit in a circle round the heap

of maize, keeping time with head and hand to some rude ditty like the

following:――

‘O I wish that I had the wings of an eagle!

Ho! ho! he――ho――ho!

I’d fly away to a wild-goose country,

Ho, ho, he――ho――ho!’

This is sometimes accompanied by the banjoe, a kind of rude fiddle.

‘Possum up a gum stump,’ is a great favorite with these choristers.

Buffalo hunting was once, as deer hunting is now, a favorite amusement

of the backwoodsmen. The wild cattle have long since receded beyond

the Mississippi, and now furnish sport only to the wandering Indians,

their traders, and the no less hardy bands of trappers and hunters.

Some account of the manner of taking this huge animal may not be out

of place here.

The scent of the buffalo, though otherwise it is a very stupid animal,

is exceedingly acute. It will scent a man more than a league, and flee

in alarm, though it is not terrified at the sight of the human race.

Hence it is necessary for the pedestrian hunter to get to leeward of

the object of his pursuit. Having approached the animal as nearly as

he well may, he stoops, then gets upon all fours, and finally drags

himself along prone, pushing his firelock before him. If there be

long grass, or if, in winter, the snow be deep, the circumstance much

facilitates his operations. If the animal ceases to feed to look at

him, he stops and remains motionless till it begins to graze again. By

observing these precautions, the buffalo may be approached to within

a few yards. When the hunter is nigh enough, he directs his aim behind

the beast’s fore-shoulder, and inflicts a mortal wound. This, however,

is but a slow and unsatisfactory mode of hunting, inasmuch as it

consumes much time, and only one buffalo can be killed in many hours.

The best and most experienced hunters follow the chase on horseback.

The mounted sportsman dashes into the thick of the herd, and singles

out the best and fattest. The buffalo, when frightened, runs fast,

but awkwardly. His gait is that of a swine, and this peculiar gait the

trained horse acquires, and assumes when beside the game, obeying the

least pressure of the rider’s foot or knee. The hunter takes care to

keep at least his horse’s length from the buffalo, in order that, if

the latter should turn upon him, which he will certainly do if wounded,

he may have time and space to escape. All precautions being duly

taken, the horseman throws the reins on his steed’s neck, holds his gun

stiffly with both hands, and fires. The horse swerves at the flash, and

the rider directs him to new game, himself loading at full speed. An

expert huntsman will kill as many as half a score of buffaloes at one

race, and rarely misses the heart.

When an Indian wounds a buffalo, he leaves it to die or separate from

the herd, and his companions never interfere with what has thus become

his property. Few of the skins of the animals so killed are taken, and

the greater part of the flesh remains a prey to the wolves and ravens.

When the cattle are in plenty, they are slain merely for their tongues,

humps, and other delicate morsels. Vast havoc is made of them every

year.

The more remote Indians, not being provided with fire arms, use bows

and arrows in the chase, and with great effect. A single arrow is often

known to go through and through a buffalo, and it is seldom a shaft

stops short of the feather. But whether it strike deep or not, if it

does but stick, the animal’s fate is sealed. It works inward as he runs,

and eventually reaches the vitals.

It is a cheering sight to see an Indian buffalo hunt. The tread of the

herd shakes the solid earth; the hunters animate each other with loud

shouts, and the guns flash incessantly. Here a rider is seen fleeing

for life before some infuriated animal; there a buffalo stands at bay.

Altogether, the scene produces an excitement which those only who have

felt can conceive. The passion for this chase increases with time, and

few professed buffalo hunters leave it before age disables them.

There are many apparent dangers in buffalo hunting. The prairies are

full of holes dug by badgers and other burrowing animals, in which the

horse may stumble, and there is some risk from the horns of the chase.

Nevertheless, it is seldom that any serious accident occurs.

Another mode of taking the buffalo was formerly in use among the

Indians of the Mississippi. Two rows of stakes were planted in the

prairie, gradually converging, till at their extremity they barely left

a passage into an inclosure of a few yards in area. These rows were

a league or more in length, and on the top of each stake was placed

a piece of turf, which frightened the cattle, and prevented them from

attempting to escape in a lateral direction. The herd, being pursued by

horsemen to the entrance of this artificial defile, were driven onward

till they reached the pound, when the entrance was closed, and the

work of destruction began. Few ever escaped, for the buffalo has little

sagacity, and, being thus shut up, will run round and round, without

attempting to break through the barriers which inclose them. This mode

of hunting is still practised by some of the more remote tribes.[92]

Deer are hunted on the Mississippi, both by whites and Indians, in

a way unknown in the eastern states. In the hot nights of summer,

the deer resort to streams and ponds, to escape from the myriads of

mosquitoes with which the woods teem, and stand immersed in the water

for hours. Sportsmen take advantage of this habit to destroy them. A

board is placed in the front of a canoe, before which burns a torch.

The board serves to deflect the light from the person of the hunter,

who paddles as silently as possible along the margin. The devoted deer

seems to be fascinated by the glare of the torch, and suffers the canoe

to approach within five yards of him. Nay, even the sound of a gun

close at hand will scarce startle him. Two or three are often killed

within a stone’s throw of each other.

We are not aware that, besides the particulars already noticed under

this head, there are any occupations or amusements peculiar to the

people of the west, of sufficient importance to require description.

CHAPTER XIV.――PENITENTIARY SYSTEM.

MOST of the improvements made in the manner of punishing and reforming

persons convicted of enormous crimes in the United States may justly

be attributed to the studies and exertions of enlightened members

of the Prison Discipline Society. To their reports and publications,

therefore, must we look for a correct synopsis of this system, so

highly appreciated among ourselves, so much decried by the high-priest

of British prejudice, captain Basil Hall.

The first annual meeting of the above-named society took place on

the second of June, A. D. 1826, in Boston. The report declares that

its object was _the improvement of public prisons_. It contained many

lucid remarks on the existing state of these prisons, but, as it is

with the present, rather than with the past, that we have to do, we

shall pretermit these. It appears, however, that many of the jails

of that time were very insecure――that solitary confinement gave the

best promise of the desirable security, and prevented prisoners from

corrupting each other――that frequent inspections were necessary, to

prevent plans of escape――that prisons, from mere humanity, should be

better ventilated, and so lighted as to enable the convicts at least

to read the word of God――that cleanliness had, in many instances,

been neglected――that amended means of instruction in the mechanic

arts were highly desirable――that the condition of the sick was

much neglected――and, in short, that the condition of the jails and

penitentiaries of the United States was little better than that of

European places of punishment. The improvements which have since been

made will better appear from positive, authenticated facts, than from

the idle speculations of theorists and travellers.

When the above society was formed, there were but two prisons on the

principle of solitary confinement in the United States,――at Thomaston,

Maine, and Auburn, New York, containing between three and four hundred

night rooms, and four or five thousand convicts. Full six thousand

solitary cells have since been built. The prisons now constructed on

this principle are twenty-nine in number, and are all on the general

plan of the Auburn prison, with some slight varieties of construction.

As many of the prisons are nearly identical in construction with this

last, a description of it will probably not be unacceptable.

The external wall of this establishment comprises an area of upwards of

sixteen thousand feet, in which is contained the prisons, yards, lumber

yard, (very large,) garden of about four thousand five hundred feet,

keeper’s house, guard room, a great number of shops, bathing pools,

and other offices. Two large buildings, on the old plan, and which were

formerly used as night rooms, are no longer dedicated to that purpose.

These, together with the keeper’s house and the prisons, form three

sides of a square, which opens upon an area, surrounded, first by the

shops, and then by the exterior wall.

The external wall of the principal prison, (that in the northern wing,)

is thirty feet high, two hundred and six feet long, forty-six feet wide,

and three feet thick. It incloses an area of five hundred feet. The

long barrack, thus surrounded by this external wall, is divided from

end to end by a solid and continuous wall of masonry, two feet thick.

On each side of this, the cells designed for the prisoners are arranged.

To explain this more fully; a long, narrow building, of solid granite

and lime, is equally divided, from end to end, by a solid wall. On each

side of this wall, and within the outer wall of the building, are a

great number of cells, so arranged as to effect the greatest economy of

room. Outside the exterior walls of these cells, is another wall, ten

feet distant from them, and thirty feet high. Beyond this second wall

are certain yards, surrounded by a third wall, and in the said wall, as

well as in the ten-foot-wide gallery between the cells and the

thirty-foot wall, keepers and sentinels are constantly moving. Thus, if a

prisoner should break out of his cell, he must first pass or kill a

sentinel, then force a second wall, then pass through a yard in which

other sentinels are stationed, and then climb over another wall. So

great is the security thus afforded, that during many years, it is

believed that in prisons thus constructed, but one serious attempt at

escape has occurred, and in that instance it was unsuccessful.

Prisons built on this plan are thought to combine the advantages

of security, solitary confinement, inspection, ventilation, light,

cleanliness, instruction, and proper attendance on the sick.

The exterior wall of the cells, which looks upon the area ten feet

wide, is two feet thick. The walls which separate the cells are one

foot thick. Thus a recess is formed at each door, which deadens the

sound, should one prisoner attempt to hold communication with another.

The only opening from each cell is an open grate in the upper part of

the door, twenty inches long by eighteen wide, and defended by thick

iron bars. Through this glazed grate, light, air, and heat are admitted

to the cell. The door is fastened by a strong latch, connected with a

hook and a bar of iron. It is thus almost impossible for one prisoner

to communicate with another, even if there were no sentinel present to

listen.[93]

The economy of this mode of building is evident. A convenient hospital

may be made, by dispensing with the partition walls between four of the

cells in the upper story. Thus constructed, four hundred cells, seven

feet long seven high, and three and a half feet wide, cover only two

hundred and six by forty-six feet of ground. At Auburn, five small

stoves and eighteen lamps, great and small, placed in the ten-feet area,

beyond the reach of the prisoners, give light and heat to five hundred

and forty cells. One sentinel suffices to guard four hundred prisoners,

and to prevent communication between them. The space in front of the

cells is, like the ear of Dionysius, a perfect sounding gallery, so

that the sentinel, in the area, can hear a whisper from a distant cell,

in the upper story. The experiment has been often tried, and always

with the same result.

The rules and regulations found most effectual in this and other

prisons, are as follows: On entering, a criminal should undergo a

thorough cleansing. It should be a part of the regulations to classify

the prisoners. Men and women should be separated, as also old and young,

condemned and uncondemned, debtors and criminals. Prisoners should be

comfortably clothed, and fed with wholesome food. Employment should be

provided for such as have trades, and trades should be taught to such

as have none, so that they may not be a burthen to the society they

have offended, or be compelled to resort to crime for subsistence when

discharged. All these, and many other desirable ends, are believed to

have been attained in Auburn, and other prisons conducted on the same

plan.

The government of Auburn is confided to five inspectors, a keeper,

a deputy keeper, a clerk, sixteen assistant keepers, who are master

workmen in the shops, five sentinels, a porter, a physician, and a

chaplain. The inspectors receive no compensation; that of the officers

amounts to an aggregate of four thousand and thirty-two dollars per

annum. No spirituous liquors are used by any officer, or are allowed to

be introduced into the establishment by the guard, when on duty, nor is

any officer to invite the others together for the purpose of drinking,

or treating, as it is called. All the turnkeys are required to attend

divine service excepting two, who cannot be spared from the prison and

the kitchen. A uniform gravity and dignity are constantly maintained

by the officers in presence of the convicts, and they are expected, at

all times, to treat each other with that respect and kindness which are

calculated to advance the best interests of the institution.

The convicts march to and from their rest, food, and labor, at stated

times, in profound silence. The order of their march is in single file,

to the lock-step, keeping their faces toward the keeper, that he may

detect conversation, if it should be attempted. The same silence and

good order are enforced, as far as possible, in every business, and in

every department. The duty of the keepers is to prevent conversation,

looking at spectators, and idle diversion; for this purpose, as well

as to keep the convicts at work, they are continually walking about the

shops. The stillness and order of divine service are truly impressive,

and during the night the area about the cells is a scene of peculiar

solemnity and gloom. A hundred or more young convicts acquire the

rudiments of learning in the Sunday school.

A valuable experiment on the subject of temperance was first made in

this prison, and has since been carried into effect in all the rest.

The convicts being strictly debarred the use of tobacco, ardent spirits,

and all other stimulants, it was found that the health of the most

abandoned drunkards did not suffer, contrary to the common idea that

the grossly intemperate cannot at once break off from the use of

spirits without danger. It appears that, for a few days, they are

uneasy, and lose their appetite, after which they eat heartily, and

uniformly improve in health and appearance.

The mode of punishment in this and similar prisons merits some

attention. Stripes, fetters, solitary confinement, and hunger are used,

and there is much difference of opinion respecting their respective

degrees of utility. In some extensive establishments, stripes and

chains are not used at all; in others, recourse is had to stripes

only. It is so in Auburn. In Richmond, Baltimore, Philadelphia, New

York, Charlestown, and Concord, solitary confinement, with a reduced

allowance of bread and water, is preferred. In Connecticut, all

the above methods are practised, and severe hunger is often found

efficacious. If the efficacy of the different modes is to be tested

by the results they produce on discipline, Auburn seems to show that

stripes are better than other punishments. The difference in the order,

industry, and subdued feeling of the prisoners, is in favor of Auburn,

though perhaps, this is as much to be ascribed to their separation

by night, and other salutary regulations, as to the mode of physical

correction. The advocates for whipping urge, that it requires less

time than other punishments, that the mind of the sufferer does not

so long dwell on it, that it is less severe, and that it can more

easily be proportioned to the offence. On the other hand, it is said

that solitary confinement will subdue men hardened against all other

inflictions, and no doubt it has so operated in very many cases. Be the

question decided as it may, the remark of the London Prison Discipline

Society’s seventh annual report is undeniably untrue, viz. that

‘solitary confinement, unmitigated by employment either of body or mind,

is the most prominent feature in the discipline now recommended in the

United States.’

We are unable, both from the want of space and of sufficient means of

information, to enter into minute details respecting the government of

many of the prisons. At Sing-sing, on the Hudson river, the convicts

are awakened in the morning by a bell; but before they are let out of

their cells, the chaplain reads a prayer that may be heard by all on

one side, the space between the cells and the external wall being a

perfect sounding gallery. The doors are then opened, and the prisoners

step forth, at the word of command, into the gallery. They are then

marched to the workshops, stopping on the way to wash themselves. One

party cleanses the whole establishment, another attends to washing, and

another to cooking. The whole body then go to their fixed tasks, such

as hewing stone, sawing marble, forging iron, and the various mechanic

arts with which they may be acquainted. Each shop is superintended by

a turnkey, who must himself be a trustworthy master-workman, in order

that he may instruct those under his charge. While in the shops, the

prisoners are placed with their faces all in one direction, so that

there can be no communication by looks or signs. From twenty to thirty

are engaged in each shop, and one good man is found able to keep that

number of hardened villains in order.

A narrow, dark passage runs along the back of the shops, with narrow

slits in the wall, through which the superintendent may observe the

conduct of both the convicts and the turnkeys, himself unseen by

either. This certainty of being at all moments liable to an authorized

_espionage_, cannot fail to keep all parties careful of their behavior.

At eight, at the sound of the bell, the convicts are again marched to

their cells, at the doors of which their breakfasts have already been

placed. They are locked in, and eat in solitude and silence. In twenty

minutes, they are again marched to their work, and at noon they go to

dinner in precisely the same manner, and at night to supper. At a fixed

hour, the bell warns them to undress and go to bed, after having heard

the chaplain’s prayer, as in the morning. The next day brings the same

dull, unvaried round, convincing them that they are indeed cut off from

mankind, and that for the purpose of punishment. It should seem that if

any thing could make the wicked turn from his wickedness, it would be

the prospect of passing years in this manner.

It is the practice of Mr. Barrett, the resident clergyman, every

evening to read a portion of the Scriptures to the convicts, from the

gallery, then to offer explanatory remarks, and to conclude with prayer.

After divine service on Sundays, he spends a considerable portion of

time in talking with them in their cells, and, hardened as they are,

none of them have shown any want of respect, or unwillingness to hear.

The inspectors of the Auburn prison stated to the legislature of New

York, in 1828, that the labors of the convicts had become so much more

productive than in former times, they thought no further appropriations

would be necessary for the support of that establishment. In the same

year, the earnings of the Wethersfield (Connecticut) prison gave, in

six months, a net gain of one thousand and seventeen dollars over and

above the expenses of their government and support. A large gain is

believed to be obtained in other penitentiaries. The following facts

will show the superiority of United States prisons, in this particular,

to those of England. In one year, twelve of the most productive prisons

in England contained three thousand, six hundred and ninety-nine

convicts, who earned forty-one thousand, seven hundred and twenty-seven

dollars. In five prisons in the United States, during the same length

of time, there were but nine hundred and ninety-nine convicts, and they

earned eighty-one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-nine dollars. That

is, a little more than a fourth of the number of American convicts earn

more than double the amount of nearly four times the number of convicts

in England. This difference depends, no doubt, greatly on discipline,

and also on difference of diet. In the five American prisons to which

we have referred, at least a pound of animal food is given to each man,

_per diem_. In England, the quantity is from a pound to half a pound

per week, scarcely sufficient to keep up the strength of a laboring man.

In some of the penitentiaries, if not in all, a Bible is placed in

each cell; the only book the prisoner is permitted to see. It is

not required that he should read it; but it can scarcely be supposed

that he will long neglect to do so, since it is the only amusement he

can possibly hope for, and the only occupation which can relieve the

soul-subduing monotony of his solitude. ‘I should like to see what sort

of stuff the Bible is made of,’ said one very obdurate sinner to the

chaplain. With the same feeling will the convict, who at first scoffs

at religion, find that this privilege is the only link of kindness

which connects him with his species, and perhaps eventually find

inestimable profit in it.

Some of the convicts, especially the foreigners, being unable to

read, it was thought expedient, at Auburn, to establish the Sunday

school. Fifty of the most ignorant convicts were placed in it, and they

embraced the privilege with eagerness and thankfulness. The school has

since been increased to a hundred and twenty-five scholars. They are

divided into classes of five or six, and instructed by students in

the Auburn Theological Seminary, who benevolently give their services.

However, no greater relaxation of the ordinary discipline than is

absolutely necessary takes place on these occasions. While the classes

are under the superintendence of the chaplain, they are also closely

watched by the officers. The annual report of 1828 shows that nearly

a fourth of the whole number of convicts attended the Sunday school.

It will not be supposed that the effects of the system of which we

have given a brief sketch, are beneficial in all cases; but it cannot

be denied that they are often so, and that a great many convicts have

been reformed. One great advantage is gained, at any rate: the men who

would, in England, be put to a shameful death, are made to live and be

harmless, if not, indeed, actually serviceable to society. The persons

subjected to this discipline are the most depraved and ignorant men in

the land. Many of them have learned vice as a science, and have become

unable, from the force of habit, to control their wicked propensities.

It is not to be hoped that all, or even a great portion of such a class,

can be radically reformed; but they can, at least, be rendered less

wicked. Beside this, the safe custody of the culprit is combined with

enough punishment to make an impression on the mind, and deter others

from his offences. The system is also entitled to much praise for

having joined economy with humanity. It may have faults, but, taken as

a whole, we think the wisdom of man may safely be challenged to make a

better.

A late English traveller has offered a suggestion on this head, which

we think entitled to attentive consideration. He says, in substance,

that a powerful motive to virtue might easily be introduced into our

penitentiaries; namely, hope. At present, severe coercion is the only

means of preserving discipline, and indeed it is indispensable. But

hope may come in play with fear. If disobedience be punished, obedience

can be rewarded, and thus the convicts would have a direct interest

in conforming to the rules of the prison. If a prisoner were sentenced

for several years, and should behave well for a week, one day might

be subtracted from the period of his confinement; if he should still

continue to do aright, his detention might be further shortened, and in

any ratio that might be thought expedient. By this procedure, the seeds

of virtue might be sown, and good habits formed.

It will not probably be thought amiss to conclude this article with

a glance at certain institutions, called houses of reformation for

juvenile offenders. There are several of them in the country, all

designed to reclaim children from incipient habits of vice, and they

have certainly saved many from state prison and gallows here, and

perdition hereafter. The principal two of these are in New York and

South Boston.

In the South Boston school of reform, the boys are divided into grades,

and are promoted or degraded, as they improve or retrograde in morals.

When their reformation is supposed to be complete, they are apprenticed

to respectable citizens, who become bound to feed and clothe them,

to give them the means of instruction, to teach them some useful

art, and, at the expiration of their indentures, to give them a small

sum of money to begin the world with. As they generally come very

ignorant to the institution, and do not stay long in it, it cannot

be expected that they should receive very thorough instruction, but

they are nevertheless taught the elements of English education. They

were formerly taught several mechanical arts, (as they still are in

New York,) but this having been thought to interfere with the great

business of moral reform, the plan has been abandoned. Many boys have

been discharged as cured of their former habits and feelings, most of

whom have given entire satisfaction, and very few indeed have relapsed.

The institution has unquestionably been of great benefit to society.[94]

The other institutions of the same nature are conducted on the

same general principles. There are differences in their governments,

endowments, and discipline, but there is a strong general resemblance.

It is not for us to say which is best conducted, and we have only

selected that in South Boston, because, having witnessed its operation,

we are able to bear witness of its peculiar utility, and of the skill,

patience, and integrity of the gentlemen who have hitherto had charge

of it.

CHAPTER XVI.――LITERATURE AND EDUCATION.

THE language of the United States differs little or nothing from

that of the middle and southern counties of England. The slight

peculiarities are chiefly such as relate to accent and intonation,

and do not affect the sense. Most of the expressions which are now

peculiar to the Americans, and especially to _the Yankees_, were in use

by the ‘pilgrim fathers,’ at the time of their emigration, and to them,

probably, ought to be attributed the nasal drawl of the least educated

inhabitants of New England. The peculiar words of the Americans are too

few to deserve particular notice. The educated men of all the states,

and especially the inhabitants of the larger cities and towns, speak a

language scarcely to be distinguished from that of the higher classes

of the mother country. It is yet a question, in what part of the

union it is spoken in its greatest purity, each of the different

sections arrogating that praise to itself. A practised ear, however,

can distinguish a difference between them, so as to decide at once to

what division the speaker belongs. The want of a capital, by which the

standard can be fixed, is probably the cause of this variety. It may

truly be asserted, that, on the whole, English is as well spoken in the

United States as in the mother country, and that the jargon put into

the mouths of Americans by foreign travellers, bears the same relation

to the tongue actually spoken, that a gross caricature does to its

original.

Education has met with few obstacles in the United States. Neither the

interests and prejudices of an aristocracy, nor poverty and dependence

of working classes have checked it in the least. State has vied with

state in giving the means of instruction to the humblest individuals.

Large tracts of land have been granted by the general government,

for the support of schools in the new states, and a reservation is

made in every new township for that purpose. In the old states, the

legislatures have, by legal enactments, compelled every township to

provide for the instruction of its population by assessment, and a

punishment is provided for neglect. In the New England and some other

states, education at the public expense is accounted one of the rights

of freeborn citizens.[95] It appears from the returns from a hundred

and one of the towns of Massachusetts to the legislature, that the

amount annually paid in those towns for instruction is one hundred and

seventy-seven thousand, three hundred and forty-two dollars. Twelve

thousand, three hundred and ninety-three pupils attend private schools

in the same towns, at an expense of one hundred and seventy thousand,

three hundred and forty-two dollars. In all these towns, the whole

number of persons between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one, who

cannot read and write, is only fifty-eight. In one considerable town,

there are but three persons of the above-mentioned age who cannot read

and write, and those three are deaf and dumb.

Infant schools have been established all over the union, with great

benefit, and great attention has been given to the improvement of

seminaries of all descriptions, as well as to the means of rendering

teachers competent to their office. The press teems with myriads

of books for the use of children, institutions for the improvement

of teachers are established, thousands of associations for mutual

instruction are formed, countless lectures are delivered, libraries

are accumulated, and, in short, no means of disseminating knowledge

is neglected.

The elements of knowledge being thus accessible to all, it follows

naturally, that the wealthy should be desirous to give their children

a more perfect education than elementary public schools can afford.

There are, therefore, an almost infinite number and variety of private

schools, in which children may be educated in conformity to the views

which their parents may entertain for them. In some instances, public

schools have intrenched materially upon private academies; in others,

the case has been reversed. Females are not neglected in the same

degree as in other countries――in some of the seminaries, they are

taught Greek, Latin, the exact sciences, philosophy, botany, chemistry,

&c. &c. The great fault of American instruction in general is, that

it is superficial, some knowledge of many subjects being communicated,

without a very thorough knowledge of any particular one. There are,

however, many distinguished exceptions to this remark, and eminent

scholars are yearly becoming more numerous.

There are more than sixty colleges in the United States, besides

many academies, several theological seminaries, and numerous medical

and law schools. Of all these, the most distinguished are Harvard

university and Yale college. The object of nearly all of them is to

give a thorough education, in languages, mathematics, and the sciences,

and it cannot be doubted that most of them afford to the diligent

student all the necessary means of acquiring such knowledge. Yet it is

not to be denied, that very many of the students leave college studies

for the more active pursuits of life, without having given sufficient

time or pains to their studies, and in this respect, our universities

will not, certainly, compare advantageously with those of England.

The reason is obvious――in the old country, few students would spend

the best of their years in celibacy and seclusion, in the pursuit

of knowledge, were they not supplied with the luxuries of life

by endowments, and cheered by the prospect of comfortable future

establishments by provision of law. We may console ourselves for this

manifest inferiority by the reflection, that if we have fewer great

scholars than European nations, neither have we peasants or beggars.

The consequences of the superficial but universal diffusion of

literature and science in the United States are remarkably singular.

Literary productions of the lowest order exist in excess. We think

we should not speak much amiss in saying, that more newspapers are

published in this country than in all Europe. A great number of them

are of an inferior character, being filled with virulent and crude

political speculations, religious controversy, or rather vituperation,

items of common-place intelligence, such poetry and literature as may

be expected from writers beneath their majority, advertisements, puffs,

and trash of all kinds. Some, which are purely political, mistake abuse

for the energy of eloquence; others, which are devoted to the interests

of the commercial classes, are chiefly filled with advertisements; some

contain little beside invective against masonry or antimasonry, and not

a few disgrace religion, under pretence of promoting its progress. The

cause of this perversion of the press is very simple. The expense of

starting a newspaper is so trifling, that any successful apprentice

can establish one on arriving at his majority; and an excellent printer

may make a very indifferent editor. Having once began to publish a

print, he must conduct it on his own mental resources, for there are

few establishments of this kind which can afford to pay for really

valuable assistance. Yet, every state can boast of some public journals

of higher character. There is also another class of journals which

are really valuable, and which partake of the nature of magazines.

These are periodical records of facts connected with trade, commerce,

internal improvement, mechanical inventions, and matters connected

with the proceedings of the national and state legislatures. Such are

Niles’s Register, Blount’s Annual Register, and a few others of the

same character.

The present number of magazines and reviews would seem to indicate

a very rapid improvement in American taste and knowledge. Some years

since, many abortive attempts were made to establish an American

review, and the North American was the first to maintain its ground,

and its improvement has been constant. It is now very well known,

and often quoted in Europe. Silliman’s Journal of the Sciences is

deservedly esteemed. There are also several monthly magazines of a

very respectable character. The Knickerbocker, issued in New York,

has acquired considerable notoriety. The New York Review, conducted

by Professor Henry and J. C. Cogswell, Esq., is fast gaining a high

reputation. “Colman’s Monthly Miscellany,” just issued, under the

editorial direction of Grenville Mellen and William Cutter, gives

promise of a good progress. Even the new western states are not wholly

without periodical literature. Theological magazines are very numerous,

and some of them are ably conducted. The Christian Examiner and

Unitarian Advocate are the organs of Unitarianism. The Christian

Spectator and Spirit of the Pilgrims are Calvanistic works, and, indeed,

almost every sect in the union has its particular organ. Christians of

all denominations will be disposed to question the merits of many of

these; but none will deny that they are all useful in some degree, as

they serve to awaken a spirit of inquiry. The annual publications are,

the American Almanac, the merits of which are denied by none, and which

is constantly improving; and the Annual Register, also a very useful

work. The beautiful books of the New Year, as the Annuals may perhaps

be called, can receive no other notice here of course, than as they may

be considered as evidence of improvement in the arts.

Literature, in the form of both poetry and prose, is certainly taking

a ground, in the United States, increasingly honorable to writers

and to the cause. Still, our novels, though many are striking, and

some powerful, want the vigor of another day, as exemplified in Brown.

Useful books can have no better champion than they find in the name of

Sedgwick. The drama, it may be observed, has been illustrated in latter

days, by efforts that reflect honor on some of our poetical writers.

Meritorious law books of American production are not rare. The labors

of Chancellor Kent are an honor to the science of jurisprudence. In

history, we have Judge Marshall’s Life of Washington, Belknap’s History

of New Hampshire, and well-written histories of most of the old states.

Many more writers we have, whose pens have been employed merely on

matters of local and temporary interest. Still, however, our literature

has not kept pace with that of the mother country. Little has been done

to encourage it, and many causes have contributed to retard its growth.

It has been in a great measure superseded by foreign publications,

which the American bookseller can republish without paying the author,

and which he therefore prefers. There is little honor and less profit

in the pursuits of our writers. Our mechanics become wealthy by hard

labor, whereas our writers might starve, did they depend on their

pens. There is a great demand for all things which are of practical,

tangible, every-day utility, but a very limited one for fine reading.

Few of our people have the leisure and fortune which might enable

them to cultivate literature and science advantageously. Under

these circumstances, most of what is written is done hastily, and

consequently badly done. But notwithstanding the great number of

discouraging circumstances, enough has been well done to indicate the

existence of much talent and learning.[96]

We have already alluded to the general feeling in regard to education.

The strength of this is exhibited in the great number of common schools

and colleges. Institutions by this name are to be found perhaps more

frequently than the cause of sound scholarship requires. If the funds

which are now distributed through so many small establishments were

concentrated on a few universities, advantages might be enjoyed which

will now be in vain sought. It is much to be regretted that measures

have not been taken for the erection of a national university, which

the general government of the country might endow with privileges and

means sufficient for its permanent success.

At the head of the collegiate institutions in the United States, is

Harvard university, originally styled Harvard college, at Cambridge,

three miles west-north-west of Boston. In the year 1636, the general

court advanced four hundred pounds towards the establishment of a

college, which was incorporated in 1638; and the same year, the Rev.

John Harvard died, leaving a legacy of seven hundred and seventy-nine

pounds, seventeen shillings, and two pence, to the college, which, on

account of this donation, was named Harvard college. Its endowments

have since, from time to time, been greatly increased by donations

from the state, and many munificent private benefactors. The university

comprises the collegiate department for undergraduates, or the college,

properly so called, and the theological, law, and medical departments.

It has four halls, four stories high, for the accommodation of

undergraduates; two halls containing the library, cabinet of minerals,

the chapel, and various other public rooms; a divinity hall, a law

hall, and a medical hall, (which last is situated in Boston,) and other

buildings. The university library contains upwards of forty thousand

volumes, of which thirty-five thousand, five hundred, are in the

general library, three thousand in the law, one thousand in the

medical, six hundred and fifty in the theological library: and there

are libraries belonging to the students, which contain four thousand,

five hundred volumes. The philosophical and chemical apparatus, and

the cabinet of minerals, are extensive, and very valuable. The property

in possession of the university, exclusive of the college buildings,

library, apparatus, and grounds adjoining to the buildings, according

to the treasurer’s report, dated October, 1832, amounted to:

$460,814.87

Funds in trust for other uses than those

of the college 65,125.45

―――――――――――

395,689.42

Funds for theological department 36,277.92

Funds for law department 17,943.63 54,221.55

――――――――― ―――――――――――

Giving for the more immediate use of the

college 341,467.87

The institution is under the legislative government of a corporation,

consisting of seven members, and of a board of overseers, consisting of

thirty elected members, together with the governor, lieutenant governor,

the members of the council and senate, the speaker of the house of

representatives, and the president of the university, _ex officio_.

Yale college was established in 1700, at Saybrook; incorporated

in 1701; and removed to New Haven in 1716: the first commencement at

Saybrook was in 1702; the first at New Haven, in 1717. It derives its

name from Elihu Yale, of London, (but a native of New Haven,) governor

of the East India company, who was one of its principal benefactors; it

received from bishop Berkeley one thousand volumes of books; and since

its foundation it has, from time to time, received benefactions from

various individuals, and also from the state. It has, for some years

past, had a greater number of students than any other college in the

United States. It possesses ten valuable buildings, two of them of

stone, the others of brick; four of which are college halls, one

hundred feet by forty, four stories high, containing thirty-two rooms

each for students; and another hall is soon to be erected. It has the

finest cabinet of minerals in the United States, a good chemical and

philosophical apparatus, and a library of eight thousand, five hundred

volumes; and there are libraries, belonging to the students, containing

ten thousand, five hundred volumes. The funds of this institution,

considering its reputation and number of students, are small; and it

is supported chiefly by tuition fees. The whole amount of the funds of

the different departments, exclusive of buildings, library, apparatus,

&c. is stated at eighty or ninety thousand dollars. According to the

statement of the treasurer, subscriptions have lately been made for the

benefit of the college, by six hundred and eighteen individuals, of one

hundred and seven thousand dollars, of which forty-one thousand dollars

have already been paid. The college is under the legislative government

of a corporation, consisting of the president of the college, the

governor and lieutenant governor of the state, and the six senior

senators, _ex officio_, and ten clergymen.

Connected with this institution, is a law school, theological

department and medical institution.

The legislature of Virginia, at the session of 1817–18, adopted

measures for establishing an institution, then proposed to be named

_Central College_, and twenty-four commissioners were appointed to

select a site for it. They accordingly selected a pleasant and elevated

spot, nearly two miles from Charlottesville, in the county of Albemarle,

not far from the centre of the population of the state. Their choice

was confirmed by the legislature in 1819, and an act was passed,

incorporating the institution, by the title of the _University of

Virginia_, which went into operation in 1825. It was erected and

endowed by the state; and it owes its origin and peculiar organization

chiefly to Mr. Jefferson. It has a fine collection of buildings,

consisting of four parallel ranges, about six hundred feet in length,

and two hundred feet apart, suited to the accommodation of nine

professors, and upwards of two hundred students; which, together with

the real estate, cost three hundred and thirty-three thousand, nine

hundred and ninety-six dollars. It possesses a very valuable library of

eight thousand volumes, and a philosophical apparatus, which, together,

cost thirty-six thousand, nine hundred and forty-eight dollars. The

state gives annually fifteen thousand dollars for the support of

the institution. The whole annual income of the university is about

eighteen thousand, five hundred dollars. The professors are paid,

partly by a fixed salary, and partly by fees received from the students;

but the sums which they severally receive are widely different, varying,

in ordinary years, from sixteen hundred to three thousand, five hundred

dollars.

Illustration: University of Virginia.

The plan of this university differs materially from that of other

institutions of the kind in the United States. The students are not

divided into four classes, with a course of studies embracing four

years; but the different branches of science and literature here taught

are styled _schools_. The following particulars are extracted from

the ‘Regulations,’ &c. Students are not admitted under sixteen years

of age; every one is free to attend the schools of his choice, and no

other than he chooses; provided, that if under the age of twenty-one,

he shall attend at least three professors, unless he has the written

authority of his parents or guardian, or the faculty shall, for good

cause shown, allow him to attend less than three. In each school, there

are three regular lectures a week; besides which, there are, in most

of them, extra lectures, suited to the several classes into which

the school is divided. The mode of instruction is by text-books and

lectures accompanied by rigid examinations.

Three honorary distinctions are conferred by this institution; a

_certificate of proficiency_,――that of _graduate_ of any class,――and

that of _master of arts of the University of Virginia_. No particular

period of study is prescribed for the acquisition of these honors. The

student obtains them whenever he can undergo the rigid examination to

which the candidates for them are subjected. The title of _doctor of

medicine_ is conferred on the graduates of the medical department.

There is but one session annually, commencing on the tenth of September,

and ending on the twentieth of July. _Commencement_ is on the last day

of the session, when there are public exercises, and at the same time

the certificates and diplomas are awarded. Number of students, in 1833,

one hundred and fifty-seven.

Kenyon college, at Gambier, in the central part of a tract of land

belonging to it, five miles east of Mount Vernon, and fifty-two

north-east of Columbus, was founded, in 1828, by the exertions of

bishop Chase, who went to England in 1823, and returned in 1825, having

there obtained for it about thirty thousand dollars; and he gave to the

college the name of ‘Kenyon,’ from lord Kenyon, one of its principal

benefactors, and to the town the name of ‘Gambier,’ from lord Gambier,

another of its benefactors. It has received considerable additions to

its funds from individuals in several of the states; and it possesses

eight thousand acres of land. The college edifice, which is of stone,

contains thirty-six rooms, and forms only one third part of the entire

design. The library contains two thousand, three hundred volumes. The

college is under the direction of a board of sixteen trustees, of which

the bishop of Ohio is president _ex officio_. The college has connected

with it a theological department and a grammar school.

Illustration: Kenyon College, Ohio.

It does not fall within our plan to give a particular description

of the numerous collegiate institutions throughout the country. In

addition to this account of the most prominent establishments, we have

added a list of colleges in the appendix, for which, as well as the

previous descriptions, we have been indebted to the American Almanac

for 1834. To that valuable work we refer the reader for a collection of

much useful and interesting matter on the subject of education in the

United States.

‘Less attention,’ says Mr. Cooper, ‘is paid to classical learning here

than in Europe; and, as the term of residence (at our colleges) rarely

exceeds four years, profound scholars are by no means common. This

country possesses neither the population nor the endowments to maintain

a large class of learned idlers, in order that one man in a hundred may

contribute a mite to the growing stock of general knowledge. There is a

luxury in this expenditure of animal force, to which the Americans have

not yet attained. The good is far too problematical and remote, and

the expense of man too certain, to be prematurely sought. I have heard,

I will confess, an American legislator quote Horace and Cicero; but

it is far from being the humor of the country. I thought the taste

of the orator questionable. A learned quotation is rarely of any use

in an argument, since few men are fools enough not to see that the

application of any maxim to politics is liable to a thousand practical

objections, and, nine times in ten, they are evidences of the want

of a direct, natural, and vigorous train of thought. They are the

affectations, but rarely the ebullitions, of true talent. When a man

feels strongly, or thinks strongly, or speaks strongly, he is just as

apt to do it in his native tongue, as he is to laugh when he is tickled,

or to weep when in sorrow. The Americans are strong speakers and acute

thinkers, but no great quoters of the morals and axioms of a heathen

age, because they happen to be recorded in Latin.

‘The higher branches of learning are certainly on the advance in this

country. The gentlemen of the middle and southern states, before the

revolution, were very generally educated in Europe, and they were

consequently, in this particular, like our own people. Those who came

into life during the struggle, and shortly after, fared worse. Even

the next generation had little to boast of in the way of instruction.

I find that boys entered the colleges so late as the commencement of

the present century, who had read a part of the Greek Testament, and a

few books of Cicero and Virgil, with, perhaps, a little of Horace. But

great changes have been made, and are still making, in the degree of

previous qualification.

‘Still, it would be premature to say, that there is any one of the

American universities where classical knowledge, or even science, is

profoundly attained, even at the present day. Some of the professors

push their studies, for a life, certainly; and you well know, after

all, that little short of a life, and a long one too, will make any man

a good general scholar. In 1820, near eight thousand graduates of the

twelve oldest colleges of this country (according to their catalogues)

were then living. Of this number, one thousand, four hundred and six

were clergymen. As some of the catalogues consulted were several years

old, this number was, of necessity, greatly within the truth. Between

the years 1800 and 1810, it is found that of two thousand, seven

hundred and ninety-two graduates, four hundred and fifty-three became

clergymen. Here is pretty good evidence that religion is not neglected

in America, and that its ministers are not, as a matter of course,

absolutely ignorant.

‘But the effects of the literary institutions of the United States

are somewhat peculiar. Few men devote their lives to scholarship. The

knowledge that is actually acquired, is, perhaps, quite sufficient for

the more practical and useful pursuits. Thousands of young men, who

have read the more familiar classics, who have gone through enough of

mathematics to obtain a sense of their own tastes, and of the value of

precision, who have cultivated _belles lettres_ to a reasonable extent,

and who have been moderately instructed in the arts of composition, and

in the rules of taste, are given forth to the country to mingle in its

active employments. I am inclined to believe that a class of American

graduates carries away with it quite as much general and diversified

knowledge, as a class from one of our own universities. The excellence

in particular branches is commonly wanting; but the deficiency is more

than supplied by variety of information. The youth who has passed four

years within the walls of a college, goes into the office of a lawyer

for a few more. The profession of the law is not subdivided in America.

The same man is counsellor, attorney, and conveyancer. Here the student

gets a general insight into the principles, and a familiarity with the

practice of the law, rather than any acquaintance with the study as a

science. With this instruction, he enters the world as a practitioner.

Instead of existing in a state of dreaming retrospection, lost in a

maze of theories, he is at once turned loose into the jostlings of

the world. If, perchance, he encounters an antagonist a little more

erudite than himself, he seizes the natural truth for his sheet-anchor,

and leaves precedent and quaint follies to him who has made them his

study and delight. No doubt he often blunders, and is frequently, of

necessity, defeated. But in the course of this irreverent treatment,

usages and opinions, which are bottomed in no better foundation

than antiquity and which are as inapplicable to the present state

of the world, as the present state of the world is, or ought to

be, unfavorable to all feudal absurdities, come to receive their

death-warrants. In the mean time, by dint of sheer experience, and by

the collision of intellects, the practitioner gets a stock of learning,

that is acquired in the best possible school; and, what is of far more

importance, the laws themselves get a dress which brings them within

the fashions of the day. This same man becomes a legislator, perhaps,

and, if particularly clever, he is made to take an active part in the

framing of laws, that are not to harmonize with the other parts of an

elaborate theory, but which are intended to make men comfortable and

happy. Now, taken with more or less qualification, this is the history

of thousands in this country, and it is also an important part of the

history of the country itself.’

We may not inappropriately introduce in this connection the following

account of the Military academy at West Point, for which we have been

indebted to an able article in the North American Review for January,

1832.

Illustration: West Point.

The main object of the institution is to qualify the pupil for the

performance of all the duties of a military life; and, by way of

preparation, he is carefully disciplined in the various duties of a

soldier and officer, from the handling of a musket, to the commanding

of armies. The use of the various instruments of attack and defence;

the construction of military works, both permanent and temporary, and

the most approved methods of attacking and defending these works; the

manner of conducting the marches of armies, and of disposing of the

different arms, with a view to their mutual protection and assistance

in cases of emergency; minor tactics, or the evolutions of troops,

whether in small or large numbers; and the more complicated and exalted

principles of grand tactics, or _strategy_, are each in turn carefully

attended to, so far as theory and the lessons of experience extend.

Besides these military subjects, studies of a different nature are

made to engage a large portion of the pupil’s attention during the

last year. Civil engineering, in its multifarious departments, viz. the

construction of roads, canals, bridges, and rail-roads, together with

the elements of carpentry and architecture, holds an important rank. As

architecture is becoming daily more interesting to the public at large,

its encouragement and advancement cannot be too strongly recommended.

A deficiency of taste and information upon this subject is but too

evident in many parts of our country; and any institution, which tends

to diffuse the correct and chaste principles of this art, deserves to

be cherished and encouraged. A fine collection of casts, representing

the most celebrated buildings of antiquity has recently been procured

from France for the Military academy; and there is every reason to hope,

that it will tend materially to improve the department of architecture.

Illustration: Military Academy at West Point.

The studies that have now been enumerated, together with rhetoric and

national and constitutional law, embrace the chief objects of attention

at this institution. A cursory glance at this course of instruction

will be sufficient to convince the observer, that it comprehends much

useful information. Yet there are many, who profess to believe the

academy not only useless, but absolutely injurious, in its effect upon

the public interests. They maintain, that genius and courage alone

are enough to insure distinction in the military profession. They say,

that all our citizens are soldiers, and that competent officers can be

selected from among them, whenever military services are necessary; and

they, doubtless, honestly believe, that to become an able officer is

not a very difficult matter. But, with due respect for the sincerity of

these opinions, we must confess our preference for the doctrine of our

illustrious Hamilton; who says, that ‘war, like most other things, is

a science to be acquired and perfected by diligence, by perseverance,

by time, and by practice.’ These few words, coming as they do from a

statesman of acknowledged genius and wisdom, are entitled to the most

respectful and deliberate attention. That great man had investigated,

with the most keen and discerning scrutiny, the many and complicated

causes of national grandeur and infirmity. He had especially weighed

the mighty causes, which had elevated, sustained, and overthrown

the various contrivances of men for self-government; and he was of

the unqualified opinion, that a national military establishment was

indispensable to our peace and security. The reasons which led him

to this conclusion are, doubtless, familiar to most of our readers,

and still operate with undiminished influence. All, however, must

acknowledge, that a military establishment without skilful officers,

would be about as inefficient as powder and bullets without a gun, or

a vessel without helm or compass. But how is this skill to be ‘acquired

and perfected?’ Doubtless, ‘by diligence, by perseverance, by time, and

by practice.’ These objectors should hesitate, before they destroy one

of the most useful instruments by which this benefit is to be secured.

Such an instrument is the Military academy. Before they attempt to

subvert so noble an edifice, they should reflect, that it is not always

wise to suffer speculation to prevail over experience. They should

remember the consequences, which have heretofore resulted from the

want of military science and skill, before they labor to expose us

anew to similar evils. They ought not to forget, that nations, as

well as individuals, are liable to be overwhelmed by adverse events,

whose approaches cannot be foreseen, or guarded against by any sudden

exertion of art or power; that a hitherto unknown responsibility rests

upon the citizens of this republic, an obligation greater than ever was

imposed upon any other political society; and that we ought, at least,

to pause, before we divest ourselves of any of those securities, upon

which the peace, the progress, and the stability of our institutions

may depend.

CHAPTER XVII.――FINE ARTS.

The progress of the arts in the United States has depended, in

a great measure, on their practical reference to the essential

comforts of life. In the mechanical arts, we yield to no other nation,

as our ships, steamboats, engines of every description, and vast

internal improvements, sufficiently testify. The prevailing taste in

architecture is much better than it was twenty years ago, and it is

now considered of great importance to have regard to the appearance

of a public edifice. Many private houses of much splendor have also

been erected within a short period. Our churches and state-houses are

built after better models, and the eye of taste is no longer shocked

by unsightly piles, without even the recommendation of antiquity to

compensate for their defects.

Of the fine arts, however, painting has been most successfully

cultivated, and many artists have won, in this department, very

considerable eminence. The materials for an account of the history

and present condition of painting in this country, are so scattered and

unsatisfactory, that we shall be able to present but a brief sketch.

We are pleased to learn that a gentleman of New York, distinguished

as a dramatic author and as an artist, has a work in preparation, that

will effectually supply this deficiency in our literature. This work

is expected with much interest by the lovers of art. In the mean while,

we must look to the leading review of the country, for some of the most

valuable notices of American art. For the remainder of this chapter, we

have been entirely indebted to the North American Review, for October,

1830.

It is stated by an able writer in that work, that few countries have

done more in the way of painting, during the last half century, than

our own. There is no nation which, during that period, can produce

a more respectable list of artists than is composed by the names of

Copley, West, Trumbull, Allston, Leslie, Newton, Stuart, Sully, Morse,

Doughty, Peale, Harding, Fisher, and Weir. Several of these artists

have been, and still continue to be, the chief ornaments of the British

school, which, for the time in question belongs at least as much to the

United States as to the mother country. The style of painting in France,

during this period, has been decidedly vicious, and although it has

obtained there a temporary popularity, it is not approved by competent

judges, who have been educated under the influence of a better taste.

In the rest of Europe, there has been little or no activity in this

branch of the arts; so that the United States have done as much for

painting during the last fifty years, as any other country.

In estimating the merits of our various painters, the article to which

we have referred, places West at the head of the list. ‘The length of

his career,’ continues this writer,――‘his conspicuous position at the

head of the British Academy, and the indefatigable perseverance with

which he pursued his labors up to the very close of his protracted

life――all these circumstances placed him in full relief before the

public, and perhaps raised his reputation a little higher than it

will be maintained by the impartial judgment of posterity. Perceiving

or supposing that his merit was exaggerated, a certain number of

persons were induced, as always happens in similar cases, by a sort

of re-action, to depreciate the value of his works, and even to deny

altogether his pretensions to excellence. Without speaking of Peter

Pindar, who attacked him merely because he was patronized by the king,

we may find the feeling to which we allude exhibited in a quarter where

we had a right to look for good taste and political impartiality. Lord

Byron, in one of his poems, describes our illustrious countryman as

――――“the dotard West,

Europe’s worst dauber, and poor England’s best.”

But even here the noble bard, however opposite may have been his

intention, has borne a sort of involuntary testimony to the high

deserts of the painter. The British school, which, in his wayward humor,

he represents as the worst in Europe, was undoubtedly at that time, and

still is, the best, and by putting West at the head of it, he rendered

him, in fact, all the justice which his warmest friends could possibly

have claimed for him. His real merit was very considerable, although

he may not have risen precisely to the level of the greatest masters

of other times. It was sufficiently evinced by the great popularity

and success of his last and best pieces, the _Christ Rejected_, and

the grand composition of _Death on the Pale Horse_. We had the pleasure

of seeing these noble paintings, when they were first brought out

at London, and witnessed the enthusiasm which they excited among the

lovers of the arts, and the public at large. The sum of ten thousand

pounds was offered for the latter work――a higher price, probably,

than was ever commanded by any other picture. As there was nothing

meretricious in the style of West, and as the public of a city like

London is not often very widely mistaken in matters wholly unconnected

with any accidental or temporary interest, it is impossible to account

for this extraordinary vogue, without allowing to the artist a talent

of a very high order. His works exhibit, in reality, almost all the

qualities that designate a first-rate painting. His walk lay in the

highest department of the art. His subjects were always of a poetical

cast, and he treated them all in a large, free and generous spirit;

and while he possessed the principal requisites of a great painter,

his manner was almost wholly free from faults. He had, in particular,

the great merit of avoiding the unnatural style of coloring which

prevailed in the neighboring kingdom, and seemed likely, at one

time, to corrupt the taste of the rest of Europe. His excellent moral

character contributed much to his talent, and still more to his fortune.

It kept him steady to his profession, during a period of violent

political convulsions, which swept away from their natural occupation

almost all the high and stirring spirits. It recommended him to the

favor of the king, and through that to the presidency of the academy,

and it preserved his health and capacity for constant employment, to

the last moment of a very long life. He enjoyed the rare happiness

of realizing, in his life-time, his full deserts on the score of

reputation――perhaps something more――and of laboring with undiminished

activity, and a constant increase of fame, beyond the ordinary term

of human existence. We had the satisfaction of seeing him frequently

in his last days, and have seldom known a more striking example of

a serene and happy old age. He was then, at nearly eighty, a healthy,

handsome man, busily occupied upon his last and greatest works,

and enjoying the vogue which they successively obtained on their

first exhibition. The natural simplicity and modesty of his manner

were mingled with a slight air of self-importance, and conscious

satisfaction with his recent success, which appeared rather graceful

than otherwise in one so much respected, and so far advanced in years.

The freshness and vigor of his mind were truly remarkable. He was

still alive to every means of improving himself, and when the Athenian

marbles were received in England, he addressed a printed letter to lord

Elgin, in which he spoke of this event as forming a sort of epoch in

his life, and anticipated the great advantage which he should derive

from the study of these admirable remains of antiquity in the further

prosecution of his labors, which, however, were very soon after brought

to a close.

‘We have said above that the manner of West was almost wholly free

from faults. His conceptions are noble, his drawing correct, his

coloring true, and his composition skilful and spirited. If we miss

any thing in his paintings, it is, perhaps, the secret indescribable

charm of coloring, which, like the curious felicity of language in

some writers, seems to be a sort of natural “grace, beyond the reach

of art,” but affording, at the same time, a higher delight than any of

those beauties, which can be more distinctly analyzed and defined. Of

this, Sir Joshua Reynolds possessed a larger share than West, and will,

probably, on that account, be always ranked above him in the general

scale of merit.

‘The paintings of West, which remained in his possession at his death,

were offered for sale soon after, and we have anxiously desired, that

the whole or a portion of them should have taken the direction of

this country. They would have formed a most interesting and valuable

addition to our collections, and would then have reached what may

fairly be considered their natural destination, the birth-place

and original home of their author. We are not exactly informed what

disposition has been made of them, and venture to hope that the

expectation we have expressed may still, in part, at least, be realized.

‘The general reputation of Trumbull is hardly equal to that of West,

although the _Sortie from Gibraltar_ is perhaps superior in effect

to any single production of the latter artist. This noble picture may

justly be ranked with the finest productions of the pencil, and would

forever secure to its author, had he done nothing else, a rank with

the greatest masters of the art. If his success has been, on the

whole, inferior to that of his illustrious contemporary, it is probably

because his devotion to his profession has not been so exclusive.

The important military and political occupations, in which he was

engaged during a considerable portion of the most active part of his

life, diverted his attention for the time from painting, and when he

afterwards resumed the pencil, he seemed to have lost, in some degree,

the vigor and freshness of his youthful talent. Hence his reputation

has not continued to increase with his years, and his last works have

not, like those of West, been regarded as his best. The four great

paintings, on subjects connected with the revolutionary war, which he

executed for congress, have, on the whole, hardly satisfied the public

expectation, and for that reason have, perhaps, been depreciated below

their real worth. They are all valuable pieces, and the _Declaration

of Independence_, which we look upon as the best of the series, is

one of a very high order. They derive a great additional interest from

exhibiting portraits, as far as they could be obtained, of the signers

of the declaration, and of the other patriots and warriors, who took a

part in the memorable action of the revolution. We incline to believe

that these paintings, should the liberality of congress allow the

appropriation necessary for keeping them in existence, will gradually

gain upon the public opinion, both as works of art, and as historical

memorials, and be viewed by the next generation with more interest than

they are by the present one.

‘Of our living native artists, Mr. Allston is the one, to whose future

productions the country looks, with reason, for the most brilliant

exhibitions of talent, and the most valuable accessions to our public

and private collections. Few painters have ever possessed, at his

age, a higher reputation, or one acquired by nobler means; and from

his character and habits, there is room to suppose that his fame

will continue to increase, like that of West, to the last period of

his labors. Inspired by that exclusive and passionate love for his

profession, which is the sure characteristic of a real genius for it,

and by a lofty and generous disinterestedness, which has prevented

him from consecrating his pencil to its lower and more lucrative

departments, he has, under some discouragements, steadily confined

himself to historical, scriptural, and poetical subjects, and has

formed his manner upon the highest standard of excellence. His

conceptions are uniformly happy, and, when the subject requires it,

sublime; his taste and skill, in the mechanical details of his art,

complete; and he knows how to give his works the secret charm to which

we alluded before, and which adds the last finish to every other beauty.

If there be any thing to complain of in him, it is that he is not

satisfied himself with the degree of merit, which would satisfy every

one else, and employs in correcting, maturing, and repainting a single

piece, not always, perhaps, with any real accession of effect, the time

and labor which would have been sufficient for completing a dozen. This

extreme fastidiousness may have been, at an earlier period of life, a

virtue, and is probably one of the qualities, which have enabled the

artist to realize the high idea of excellence, which originally warmed

his young fancy. But, if we might venture to express an opinion on the

subject, we should say that the time has now arrived, when he might

throw it off with advantage, and allow himself a greater rapidity of

execution. His manner is formed. He possesses his talent, whatever it

is, and, as we remarked above, when we treated the same question in

general terms, the more freely and fearlessly he exercises it, the more

natural and spirited, and, on the whole, the better will be the product.

We trust that he will not permit another year to pass over, without

putting the last hand to the grand heroic composition, upon which he

has been employed so many, and that this will be followed by a series

of others, of equal merit, and of a rather more rapid growth. By this

change in his manner of working, we believe that he would gain in ease

and spirit, without sacrificing any real beauty, and would labor, on

the whole, with infinitely more satisfaction and profit to himself and

the public, than he does now. We offer these remarks, however, with

all the deference that is due from mere _amateurs_ to an artist of

consummate genius, who is, after all, the only true judge of effect in

his art, and of the best means of producing it.’

CHAPTER XVIII.――BANKING SYSTEM[97]

IN new countries, one of the chief difficulties with which a civilized

population is obliged to contend, after a sufficiency is obtained of

the necessaries of life, is in appropriating a portion of their capital,

to serve as a common standard of value in the transactions of commerce.

Barter, which is always the first process, soon becomes too burdensome,

and the precious metals, which, in older countries furnish a sound

and universal currency, are too expensive for new settlements, where

all the capital of the inhabitants is wanted in improving the face of

the country, and in providing additional comforts, as the community

advances in wealth. In the course of time, however, commerce claims

a portion of capital, as the medium of exchange; and the struggle

commences between the necessity of providing a circulating medium,

formed of a material of universal value, and the reluctance to spare

for that purpose, capital, which might be exchanged for articles

essentially wanted in new countries. Hence it is found, that in new

colonies, there is a strong tendency to substitute the credit of

public bodies in the place of capital, or in other words, a paper

for a metallic currency. The want of capital is so great, and the

opportunities of investment so abundant, that the issues soon become

excessive; and it is not until the channels of circulation are entirely

filled, that the holders begin to look to the fund provided for

its redemption; and the first re-action generally results in the

depreciation of the currency, and in the universal distress of the

community.

In this country, this evil had been so often felt under the colonial

governments, and during the revolution, (when the necessity of the

public service compelled, if it did not excuse, excessive emissions

of bills of credit by the individual states,) that upon forming a

government for the United States, after the termination of hostilities,

all power over the currency was taken from the state governments; and

they were expressly prohibited from coining money, issuing bills of

credit, or making any thing but gold and silver a tender in payment of

debts.

It was intended to vest in congress the power to establish a uniform

currency, instead of the fluctuating medium formerly used; and to place

it out of the power of the states, to invalidate or alter the terms

of contracts, by tender, relief, or bankrupt laws, or by any tampering

with the currency. It was a wise endeavor to elevate the commercial

credit of the country, by placing its principles under the guardianship

of the national government, and to establish the currency upon an

immovable basis, by making it of gold and silver. The effort, though

well meant, was, at that period of our history, almost too great for

the ability of the country. A circulating medium composed entirely of

the precious metals, could not be furnished, without abstracting too

large a share of its capital from active employment.

Certificates of public debt were already too abundant, and the name of

continental money was of itself sufficient, to prevent government bills

from becoming current. A bank, whose issues should be founded on real

capital, convertible at pleasure into gold and silver, would furnish a

circulating medium, not so expensive as a metallic currency, and still

not liable to the objections made to treasury bills. So long as the

credit of the bank should be fully sustained, a large amount of bills

would be kept in circulation, and an additional capital provided, on

which it might safely discount to a certain extent. The experiment

had been already successfully tried, in the bank of North America,

chartered in 1781, under the authority of the continental congress.

This institution subsequently accepted a charter from the legislature

of Pennsylvania, and of course lost its character as a national bank.

This step was also unfortunate, as the commencement of state banking,

and being speedily followed by the incorporation of the banks of New

York and Massachusetts, by the legislatures of those respective states,

established the practice of incorporating state banks, upon a footing

that could not be overthrown. As these banks were all established on

real capital, and were prudently managed, their paper soon formed a

large part of the circulating medium; and by the operation of causes

more powerful than legislative enactments, a victory was finally

obtained over the policy and spirit of the constitution; and a currency,

chiefly composed of the notes of incorporated banks, was substituted

in the place of a metallic currency. With such a circulating medium,

it is clear that the state governments, in exercising the power of

incorporating banks, have materially diminished the practical control

of congress over the currency of the union. These notes, indeed,

are not, and cannot be made a legal tender in payment of debts. The

federal constitution has there interposed an effectual prohibition.

But although the power, which is secured to each creditor, of enforcing

payment of his debt in specie, has served as a check to the excessive

issue of bank notes, still a paper currency has existed in the United

States, which, by dispensing with and superseding the use of the

precious metals, has, in fact, compelled every one to receive such

currency, in nearly the same manner as if it had been made a legal

tender.

The old United States bank, which was chartered by congress in 1791,

shortly after the adoption of the federal constitution, by the salutary

control it exercised over the state banks, prevented any great and

general injury from growing out of this change in the character of

the currency. It carefully guarded against all excessive issues by

the local banks, and compelled them to make their paper equivalent

to specie. Even this check did not always prove sufficient; and the

natural tendency of banking institutions, in new countries to over

issues, was occasionally illustrated by the bankruptcy of country banks,

to the great detriment of the mercantile community. When this check was

withdrawn by the refusal to renew the charter of the United States bank,

in 1811, the evil became incomparably greater. Availing themselves of

the pecuniary distress of the government, during the war that ensued,

the local banks, out of New England, came to a determination to suspend

specie payments, and by continually increasing their issues, they

finally flooded the country with bank notes, which constituted the sole

circulating medium, and which, though nominally convertible into specie

upon demand, were in reality at twenty per cent. discount.

Even this currency was received, as if it had been made a legal

tender. An outcry had been made against those who enforced the payment

of specie, as engaged in a combination to drain the country of the

precious metals; and the only alternative presented to the creditor

was, a lawsuit in the face of public opinion for his legal rights, or

the acceptance of the depreciated paper currency from his debtor.

Protected by this popular prejudice, the banks went on issuing their

irredeemable bills, even after the termination of the war; and a

circulating medium, altogether without value in other countries, became

the currency of the union, with the exception of the eastern states.

By the large issues of the banks that had suspended payment, the

circulating medium had been so much augmented, that it exceeded the

wants of the community, and fell greatly in value,――the whole currency

in 1816, being estimated at one hundred and ten million dollars, when

forty-five million dollars were all that was needed. This evil was

still further aggravated by the different values of this currency in

the several states――being in some five, in some ten, in others twenty

per cent. below par. A debtor, therefore, in paying a debt contracted

before the general depreciation of the currency, would, in that state

of affairs, pay less value than he agreed to pay; and a debtor, by

moving from the eastern to the southern and western states, would, in

effect, diminish the amount of his indebtedness twenty per cent. Nor

was this all. By the federal constitution, it was provided that all

duties, imposts, and excises, should be uniform throughout the United

States. So long, however, as bank notes were received by the revenue

officers at Boston, New York, and Baltimore, the importer at Baltimore

during this period paid one fifth, and at New York one tenth, less than

at Boston, where bank notes were equivalent to specie.

To permit the longer continuance of this state of things in the face

of the constitution, would have been inconsistent with the duty of

congress. A remedy was necessary. Congress could no longer regulate

the value of the currency, by declaring that current coin in silver

and gold should be of a specified weight and purity. A paper was

substituted in the place of a metallic currency, and it was essential

to obtain a control over the local banks, and to bring their issues

within proper limits. This might have been done by positive enactment,

or by imposing a stamp duty on bank notes; but in the then existing

state of the currency, it was deemed hazardous to resort to direct

interference.

It was also proposed to remedy the evil, by investing the receiving

officers of the revenue with the power of discriminating between the

notes of the several banks. This addition to the power and influence

of the revenue officers was wisely deemed inexpedient, as augmenting

too directly the powers of the treasury department; and the short

experiment which was made of this mode of controlling the local banks,

resulted in bringing into the treasury more than a million of dollars,

of what were denominated unavailable funds, consisting of the notes of

broken banks.

The only mode remaining consisted in establishing a United States bank,

with capital sufficient to control the local banks, which should, by

degrees, compel them to reduce their issues to an amount proportionate

to their means, and thus bring the paper currency to the par of silver

and gold. This mode was adopted, and the present United States bank

was chartered in 1816, for twenty years, with a capital of thirty-five

million dollars, to which the federal government subscribed one fifth.

The notes of this bank and its branches were made receivable for any

debt due to the United States, and its capital and solidity soon gave

a currency to its notes, to the exclusion of those local banks that did

not redeem their paper in specie.

They were immediately compelled to reduce their issues with a view

to the resumption of specie payments, and within three years after

the opening of the United States bank, the currency of the union was

reduced from one hundred and ten million dollars, to forty-five million

dollars, and made equivalent to gold and silver. The local banks found

the United States bank notes were preferred, and they were compelled

to furnish as good a currency, in order to preserve those customers who

were worth having. Since this restoration of the currency to a healthy

state, it has been kept so, by the constant action of the national bank

upon all local banks evincing a disposition to depart from the true

rules of banking.

Occasional deviations have indeed taken place, as in Tennessee and

Kentucky, where the legislatures undertook to create capital by

pledging the public credit, and to force an unnatural quantity of bank

notes into circulation. These attempts resulted, as was predicted,

in the bankruptcy of the banks, and in the general distress of that

part of the country. In Kentucky, indeed, the legislature sought to

alleviate the distress flowing from this policy, by relief and tender

laws. But this only aggravated the evil, and finally produced a contest

between the friends of law and order, and the partizans of the ‘relief

system,’ that, for violence and acrimony, has been seldom witnessed

in the United States. The relief and tender laws were declared

unconstitutional by the state court of appeal, and their advocates,

having obtained possession of the legislature, abolished the court, and

constituted a new court in its place. The old court, however, refused

to yield, and being sustained by the sound part of society, finally

prevailed in the contest; and after a conflict of six years, the

legislative and executive departments were rescued from the hands of

the relief party, and law and justice, which, for a short time, had

been driven from the judgment-seat, resumed their sway over the state

of Kentucky.

The history of the banking institutions of that state affords a

striking illustration of the mischiefs resulting from any interference

of a state government with the currency, and furnishes a complete

demonstration of the wisdom of the federal constitution, in vesting

the whole power over this subject in the general government. During

the short period that elapsed between the first usurpation on the part

of Kentucky upon this prerogative of congress, and the termination of

the contest, the currency of the state was depreciated; private and

public credit destroyed; a bankruptcy almost universal produced; the

principles of sound morality and civil order disregarded; the most

valuable institutions of the state temporarily overthrown; and the

community brought to the brink of civil war and anarchy.

The right side having triumphed, means were taken to redeem

this depreciated currency; and the notes of the United States bank

furnishing a currency that was universally preferred, the paper of the

commonwealth bank was driven from circulation, and gradually redeemed

and destroyed.

To prevent the recurrence of such a state of things in other states,

is one of the objects of a national bank. In a country like this,

the temptation to excessive issues of bank paper is too strong to

be resisted by banking institutions in the new states, unless they

are checked by a vigilant superintendence, beyond the effect of local

influence. The United States, at the present moment, furnish a complete

epitome of the progress of civilization in a wilderness, and until

the whole continent shall be occupied, this republic will always

possess within its limits all the varieties of human society, in its

advancement from the savage to the civilized state. On the Atlantic

coast are cities and states, which, in commerce, in capital, and

in all the productions of wealth and skill, are not far, if at all,

behind those of Europe. Advancing through New York and Pennsylvania,

a traveller enters the new states beyond the Alleghanies, and although

Cincinnati, Lexington, Louisville, and Nashville are inferior to but

few cities on the sea-coast, still the population is not so dense, and

the country shows fewer signs of cultivation. The roads become worse,

the towns smaller, until in the far west he comes upon the log hut,

the half-cleared field, and finally reaches the _ultima Thule_ of

civilization, in discovering the trapper’s tent not far distant from

the Indian’s wigwam. The effect of this condition of society, upon the

internal commerce of the country, is striking and characteristic. In

settling in the interior, whether in one or more families, the whites

take with them little more than their clothing, furniture, agricultural

implements, and a small stock of domestic cattle.

In a few years, the fertility of the soil enables them to send

surplus produce, in exchange for European or West India productions,

to the stores of the country traders in some neighboring town, who,

in their turn, transport it to the sea-coast, for home consumption or

exportation. In this manner an active trade is maintained between the

seaports and the interior, and as the new settlers stand in actual need

of many foreign articles, which they require on credit, to be paid for

from the next year’s crop, it follows, that the interior is invariably

in debt to the merchants on the seaboard. These debts, however, they

are enabled to discharge, through the great fertility of their soil,

and the advance of their property in consequence of the improvement

of the country; and contrary to an old maxim, they grow rich, although

they continue in debt――that is, they are daily augmenting the value of

their farms, and each year they are enabled to purchase some additional

comfort or luxury, which they do not hesitate to buy on credit, because

they are certain of being able to pay for it before the lapse of

another year.

The invariable course of business between old and new countries――always

showing a balance in favor of the former, and bringing the latter in

debt――demonstrates, that this habit is beyond the reach of legislation.

The truth is, that new countries are deficient in capital. They are

in want of all the luxuries, and many of the necessaries, to which the

emigrants were accustomed at home. They, however, advance in wealth and

population faster than older states, and for the advance of capital, or

the credit which they require, they are able and willing to pay. Thus

both parties are satisfied with their mutual relations of debtor and

creditor, and find their respective interests promoted by the proper

adjustment of these relations. The same principle is equally applicable

to the capital required in the new states for a circulating medium. If

they can borrow at a fair rate of interest from the Atlantic cities,

or from Europe, capital for this purpose, it is as advantageous a loan

as if procured for any other object. It enables them to appropriate an

equal amount of capital to the clearing of new towns, building better

houses, improving the roads, and generally promoting the prosperity

of that portion of the union. It obviates the necessity, that so often

impels them to excessive issues, on a limited capital of their own, and

thus lessens the danger of a derangement of the currency.

This object was effectually attained in the establishment of the

United States bank. Founded upon real capital, which was large enough

for its proposed ends, it furnished, through its branches, a sound

paper currency to these new states; and by the supervising care of

the mother bank, those branches were sufficiently guarded against the

tendency to over-issues.

By the same agency, the local banks were compelled to conduct their

business with prudence, and to keep their circulation within proper

limits. Whenever their issues were too much augmented, the national

bank interposed a direct check, in demanding the redemption of their

paper; and an indirect check was also given by the superior credit of

its bills, which are receivable in all places in payment of duties.

Since the establishment of this bank, consequently, the business

of domestic exchange has been transacted upon the basis of a sound

currency, and the rate of exchange, between the western and the middle

states, has been reduced to one fifth of its price before that event.

It was not, however, in this manner alone that the rate of exchange

was lowered. It was equalized by the obligation assumed by the federal

government to receive the notes of the United States bank in payment of

duties. The revenue paid to the United States in each year, amounts to

about twenty-six million dollars, of which about one half is receivable

at the custom-house in New York. The exchange being always in favor of

that city, whenever it became too high, remittances were made by the

western merchants, in branch notes, to their New York creditors, who

used those notes in paying their custom-house bonds. The exchange was

thus equalized without any expense to the community, and this operation

has been felt through all the branches of the domestic exchange

business.

Its effect has been so great, that exchange between the different parts

of the union has been generally kept below the expense of transporting

the specie, and the branch notes have seldom been at a greater discount

than one fourth per cent. in any part of the country. As an equivalent

for these advantages, the national bank, besides a bonus paid to the

government when the charter was granted, has collected the public

revenue, and transported it, without expense, to any part of the union

where it was wanted. It has also disbursed it, and thus formed an

efficient arm of the treasury department. During the time it has been

in existence, it has performed these duties without any expense to the

government, and has saved it from all losses from the insolvency of

state banks. As an agent of the treasury department, in collecting and

disbursing the revenue, it has proved itself efficient and eminently

useful; and in that point of view, the establishment of the United

States bank by congress has been vindicated, as one of the means

necessary and proper to carry into effect the powers constitutionally

vested in the federal government. In its operation upon the federal

currency of the country, however, its constitutionality is still

more unquestionable. It is through a national bank alone that congress

can exercise that control over the money system of the union, that is

vested in it by the federal compact.

In order, therefore, to regulate the currency, and to render the taxes

and duties imposed by congress uniform throughout the United States,

it is absolutely necessary that a national bank should be established

with sufficient capital to control the state banks, and to compel them

to keep their notes equivalent to specie. It can in this manner only

discharge that duty, which, for wise and salutary ends, was exclusively

vested in congress, at the formation of the government. In performing

these highly responsible duties, the United States bank has necessarily

gone counter to the wishes of various classes of the community. By

compelling the local banks to control their issues, it has diminished

the dividends of the stockholders; by reducing the rate of domestic

exchange, it has lessened the profits of the brokers and capitalists,

carrying on that branch of business; and by increasing the value of the

circulating medium, through its supervising power over the local banks,

it has, in effect, reduced the price of all property for which money

is exchanged. These effects, though salutary to the community, have

been injurious to individual interests, which have all been arrayed in

hostility to that institution. The benefits of the bank have been of

too general a character, to be readily appreciated by the mass. They

consist in restoring and maintaining a sound currency, and though this

is as indispensable to prosperous commerce, as a pure atmosphere is

to a healthy man; still no special feeling is excited in the minds of

those who use the one and breathe the other with a happy forgetfulness,

that adulterated coin and irredeemable paper will cause as much

desolation among merchants, as a pestilential miasma in a crowded city.

The administration of the bank, however, though excellent, has not

been without faults. Shortly after going into operation, its direction

fell into the hands of a few speculators, who brought it to the verge

of bankruptcy, and it did not escape without the loss of more than

a million of dollars, and no small portion of character. In the

distribution of capital, dissatisfaction had been caused by the small

amount apportioned to the city of New York; and it has been, with too

much reason, asserted, that the illiberal policy pursued by the present

bank towards that city, originated in a jealousy of the increasing

wealth and trade of the commercial metropolis of the United States.

At times, too, it had indiscreetly enlarged its discounts, and in

order to bring the currency within proper limits, was obliged to bear

harshly upon its customers. Notwithstanding these errors, it was with

no little surprise, that the public found, in the first message of

general Jackson to congress, (six years before the expiration of the

charter,) an expression of his opinion against the constitutionality

and expediency of the United States bank, and an assertion that it had

failed in the great end of establishing a uniform and sound currency.

As no intimation had been given of an intention to apply for a renewal

of the charter, and as no specific abuses were pointed out deserving

examination, this intimation was justly regarded as an indication of a

strong hostility against that institution, on the part of the president,

originating in causes not open to the public eye. The message had the

effect of diminishing the value of the stock six per cent. lower than

before the opening of congress. The subject, however, was referred

to the committees on finance, and reports adverse to the president’s

views having been brought in, the stock recovered itself, and finally

attained a higher rate than the original price.

The recent history of the Banks is to be found in a condensed state,

introduced without any prescribed place, among the events, as they

occurred, of Jackson’s and Van Buren’s administrations, near the end

of the volume.

CHAPTER XIX.――BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.

ADAMS, JOHN, the second president, was born, in 1735, at Braintree

Massachusetts. He was educated at the university of Cambridge, and

received the degree of master of arts in 1758. At this time, he entered

the office of Jeremiah Gridley, a lawyer of the highest eminence, to

complete his legal studies; and in the next year he was admitted to

the bar of Suffolk. Mr. Adams, at an early age, espoused the cause of

his country, and received numerous marks of the public confidence and

respect. He took a prominent part in every leading measure, and served

on several committees, which reported some of the most important state

papers of the time. He was elected a member of the Congress, and was

among the foremost in recommending the adoption of an independent

government. It has been affirmed by Mr. Jefferson himself, ‘that the

great pillar of support to the declaration of independence, and its

ablest advocate and champion on the floor of the house, was John Adams.’

In 1777, he was chosen commissioner to the court of Versailles, in

the place of Mr. Dean, who was recalled. On his return, about a year

afterwards, he was elected a member of the convention to prepare a

form of government for the state of Massachusetts, and placed on the

sub-committee chosen to draught the project of a constitution. Three

months after his return, congress sent him abroad with two commissions,

one as minister plenipotentiary, to negotiate a peace, the other to

form a commercial treaty with Great Britain. In June, 1780, he was

appointed, in the place of Mr. Laurens, ambassador to Holland, and

in 1782, he repaired to Paris, to commence the negotiation for peace,

having previously obtained assurance that Great Britain would recognise

the independence of the United States. At the close of the war, Mr.

Adams was appointed the first minister to London. In 1789, he was

elected vice-president of the United States, and, on the resignation

of Washington, succeeded to the presidency, in 1797. After his term

of four years had expired, it was found, on the new election, that his

adversary, Mr. Jefferson, had succeeded, by the majority of one vote.

On retiring to his farm in Quincy, Mr. Adams occupied himself with

agriculture, obtaining amusement from the literature and politics

of the day. The remaining years of his life were passed in almost

uninterrupted tranquillity. He died on the fourth of July, 1826, with

the same words on his lips, which, fifty years before, on that glorious

day, he had uttered on the floor of Congress――‘Independence forever!’

Mr. Adams is the author of An Essay on Canon and Feudal Law.

ADAMS, SAMUEL, one of the most remarkable men connected with the

revolution, was born at Boston, in 1722. He was educated at Harvard

college, and received its honors in 1740. He was one of the first who

organized measures of resistance to the mother country; and for the

prominent part which he took in these measures, he was proscribed

by the British government. During the revolutionary war, he was one

of the most active and influential asserters of American freedom and

independence. He was a member of the legislature of Massachusetts

from 1766 to 1774, when he was sent to the first congress of the

old confederation. He was one of the signers of the declaration of

1776, for the adoption of which he had always been one of the warmest

advocates. In 1781, he retired from congress, but only to receive from

his native state additional proofs of her confidence in his talents and

integrity. He had already been an active member of the convention that

formed her constitution; and after it went into effect, he was placed

in the senate of the state, and for several years presided over that

body. In 1789, he was elected lieutenant governor, and held that office

till 1794; upon the death of Hancock, he was chosen governor, and was

annually re-elected till 1797, when he retired from public life. He

died in 1803. The following encomium upon Mr. Adams is from a work upon

the American rebellion, by Mr. Galloway, published in Great Britain,

1780: ‘He eats little, drinks little, sleeps little, thinks much,

and is most indefatigable in the pursuit of his object. It was this

man, who, by his superior application, managed at once the factions

in congress at Philadelphia, and the factions of New England.’

ADAMS, HANNAH, a native of New England, whose literary labors have

made her name known in Europe, as well as in her native land. Among her

works are the View of Religions, History of the Jews, Evidences of the

Christian Religion, and a History of New England. She was a woman of

high excellence and purity of character. She died in 1831, at the age

of seventy-six.

ALEXANDER, WILLIAM, a major-general in the American army, during

the revolutionary war, was born in the city of New York, but passed

a portion of his life in New Jersey. He acted an important part

throughout the revolution, and distinguished himself particularly

in the battles of Long Island, Germantown, and Monmouth. He died at

Albany, in 1783, at the age of fifty-seven years, leaving behind him

the reputation of a brave officer and a learned man.

ALLEN, ETHAN, a brigadier-general in the revolutionary army, was

born in Connecticut, but was educated principally in Vermont. In 1775,

soon after the battle of Lexington, he collected a body of about three

hundred Green Mountain boys, as they were called, and marched against

the fortresses of Ticonderoga and Crown Point; and in each of these

enterprises he was successful. He was shortly after taken prisoner, and

sent to England; of the events of his captivity he has himself given

an interesting narrative. On release from his confinement, he repaired

to the head-quarters of general Washington, where he was received with

much respect. As his health was much injured, he returned to Vermont,

after having made an offer of his services to the commander-in-chief,

in case of his recovery. He died suddenly at Colchester, in 1789. Among

other publications, Allen was the author of a work entitled Allen’s

Theology, or the Oracles of Reason, the first formal attack upon the

Christian religion issued in the United States. He was a man of an

exceedingly strong mind, but entirely rough and uneducated.

ALSOP, RICHARD, a man of letters, was born at Middletown, in

Connecticut, and resided in that place during most of his life. His

works are numerous, and embrace a great variety of subjects. He was one

of the contributors to the Echo, a journal that obtained considerable

celebrity, in its day, for humor and satire. He published various

translations from the French and Italian, and left in manuscript a poem

of considerable length, called the Charms of Fancy. He died in 1815, at

the age of fifty-seven.

AMES, FISHER, one of the most eloquent of American writers and

statesmen, was born at Dedham, in Massachusetts, in the year 1758.

He was educated at Harvard college, where he received his degree

in 1774. About seven years afterwards, he began the practice of the

law, and an opportunity soon occurred for the display of his superior

qualifications, both as a speaker and essay writer. He distinguished

himself as a member of the Massachusetts convention for ratifying

the constitution, in 1788, and from this body passed to the house of

representatives, in the state legislature. Soon after, he was elected

the first representative of the Suffolk district, in the congress of

the United States, where he remained, with the highest honor, during

the eight years of Washington’s administration. On the retirement

of the first president, Mr. Ames returned to the practice of his

profession in his native town. During the remaining years of his life,

his health was very much impaired, but his mind still continued deeply

interested in politics, and he published a considerable number of

essays, on the most stirring topics of the day. He died in 1808.

In the following year, his works were issued in one volume, octavo,

prefaced by a biographical notice, from the pen of his friend, the

Rev. Dr. Kirkland.

BAINBRIDGE, WILLIAM, a distinguished naval officer, was born at

Princeton, New Jersey, on the seventh of May, 1774. From 1793 to 1798,

he was engaged in the merchant service, sailing between Philadelphia

and Europe. In July, 1798, he received the command of the United

States’ schooner Retaliation, of fourteen guns, to be employed in the

hostilities which had arisen with France. While cruising off Guadeloupe

this schooner was taken by two French frigates and a lugger, and taken

in to that island, where she remained three months. He reached home

in February, 1799, and his exchange being soon effected, he received

a commission of master-commandant, and sailed in the brig Norfolk, in

another cruise to the West Indies. Here he remained for some months,

convoying the trade of the United States. On his return, he received a

captain’s commission, and was appointed to the command of the frigate

George Washington, in which he shortly afterwards sailed for Algiers,

with the presents which our treaty bound us to make to the regency.

After performing, from motives of policy, a highly insolent exaction

of the Dey, captain Bainbridge returned to Philadelphia, in the month

of April, 1801. In the following year, he received the command of the

frigate Essex, and sailed for the Mediterranean, to protect American

commerce from the Tripolitan cruisers. In July, 1803, he sailed in the

Philadelphia, to join the Mediterranean squadron, then under commodore

Preble. His frigate was unfortunately captured by the Tripolitans,

and captain Bainbridge and his crew remained in imprisonment for

thirteen months. In 1805, a treaty of peace was concluded between the

United States and Tripoli, and the prisoners were liberated. Captain

Bainbridge was received with much respect, and was acquitted of all

blame, by a court of inquiry, held at his request. From 1806 to 1812,

he was employed at times in the merchant service. In 1812, he was

appointed to the command of the navy yard at Charlestown, and when

captain Hull applied for a furlough, after his victory over the British

frigate Guerriere, commodore Bainbridge was permitted to take command

of the Constitution. In a few weeks after sailing, he was running down

towards the coast of Brazil, when he fell in with the Java frigate,

which he captured, after a severe battle. This frigate was so much

injured, that it was impossible to bring her to the United States, and

she was accordingly blown up. The situation of the Constitution soon

compelled commodore Bainbridge to return, and he was engaged in no

other action during the war. After the peace of 1815, he superintended

the building of the Independence, seventy-four, and took command of the

first line of battle ship that belonged to our navy. In this ship he

sailed to the Mediterranean, to form a junction with commodore Decatur,

to cruise against the Barbary powers; but matters had been arranged

before his arrival. In November, 1815, he returned to this country,

was afterwards appointed one of the navy commissioners, and resumed the

command of the navy yard in Charlestown. His health gradually declined,

and he died at Philadelphia on the twenty-seventh of July, 1833.