_Principles of Political Economy, with Some of their Applications to
Social Philosophy._ By JOHN STUART MILL. New York: D. Appleton & Co.
If works upon Political Economy, representing the orthodox European
doctrine, are to be written, John Stuart Mill is certainly the man to
write them. Able, candid, judicial, indefatigable, powerfully
poised,--characterized by remarkable mental amplitude, by a rare
steadiness of brain, by an admirable sense of logical relation, by a
singular ease of command over his intellectual forces, by a clear and
discriminating eye that does not wink when a hand is shaken before
it,--of a humane and widely related nature, whose heats lie deep, so
deep that many may think him cold,--of an understanding as dry as John
Locke's, wanting imagination in all its degrees, from rhetorical
imagination, which is the lowest, to epic imagination, which is the
highest, and therefore destitute of the sovereign insights which go only
with this faculty in its higher degrees, while, on the other hand, freed
from the enticements and attractions that are inseparable from it,--Mr.
Mill has qualifications unsurpassed, perhaps, by those of any man living
for considerate and serviceable thinking upon matters of immediate
practical interest and of a somewhat tangible nature. His mental
structure exhibits combinations which are by no means frequent. Seldom
is seen a conjunction of such cold purity of thinking with such
generosity of nature; seldom such considerateness, such industry,
patience, and carefulness of deliberation, with a boldness so entire;
seldom such ducal self-possession and self-sufficingness, with equal
openness to social and sympathetic impression; nor less rare, perhaps,
is the union of a reflective power so large and dominating with an
observation so active.
These mental qualities fit him in a peculiar degree for service in the
field of Political Economy as now commonly defined,--a branch of
literature which, more, perhaps, than any other, represents at once the
genius and the limitation of our time.
Political Economy is a half-science, not total or integral; and if it
pretend to spherical completeness, as it often does, it becomes open to
grave accusation. The charges against it, considered as a strict and
complete science, are two.
Of these the first has been cogently urged by Mr. Ruskin, while virtual
admissions to a like effect were made by Mr. Buckle in his spirited
account of Adam Smith. It is this: as a science, Political Economy must
assume the perfect selfishness of every human being. Every science
requires necessary, and therefore invariable, conditions, which, when
expounded, are named laws. Such in Astronomy is gravitation, with the
law of its diminution by distance; such in Chemistry is chemical
attraction, with the law of definite proportions. The natural and
perpetual condition assumed by Political Economy is the absolute
supremacy in man of pecuniary interest. Absolute: it can admit no
modification of this; it can make no room within its province for
generosity, or for any action of man's soul, without forfeiting, so far,
its claim to the character of a science. Put a dollar, with all honor,
liberal justice, and humane attraction, on the one hand; put a dollar
and one cent, with mere legal right and consequent safety, on the other
hand; and Political Economy must assume that every man will gravitate to
the latter by the same necessity which makes the balance incline toward
the heavier weight. Or, conceding the contrary, it yields also its claim
to the character of a perfect science, and takes rank among those
half-sciences which partly expound necessary laws and partly contingent
effects.
Now this assumed sovereignty of pecuniary interest seems to us _not_ a
final account of human beings. There is honor among thieves; is there
none among merchants? Does not every man put some generous consideration
for others into his business-transactions? Has an honorable publisher
_no_ aim but to print that which will sell best? Has he _no_ regard to
the character of his house? Has he _no_ desire to furnish a nourishing
pabulum and a healthful inspiration to the mind of his country? In the
employment of labor and the giving of wages do men generally quite
forget the work_man_, and think only of the work and its profit? This
does not happen to accord with our observation of human nature. We think
there is a large element of honorable human feeling incessantly playing
into the economies of the world; and we think it might be yet larger
without any injurious perturbation of these economies.
Again, as a science, Political Economy considers wealth only as related
to wealth, to itself, not to man. It assumes wealth, as absolute, and
regards man as an instrument for its production and distribution. But
this attitude must be reversed. Wealth cannot be treated of in a wholly
healthful way until it is considered simply as instrumental toward the
higher riches which are contained in man himself.
And here we reach the peculiar virtue of Mr. Mill's book.
In the first place, he accepts the science as such, accepts it cordially
and almost with enthusiasm,--in fact, has a degree of faith in its
completeness and of confidence in its uses, greater, perhaps, than our
own final thought will justify; for the reader will already have
perceived that we incline in some measure to the opposition, with
Carlyle, Ruskin, and others. Proceeding upon this basis, Mr. Mill
expounds the orthodox theories with that definiteness of thought, with
that precision of statement, and that calmness and breadth of survey,
which never fail to characterize his literary labor. Any one who
assumes, and wishes to study the science, will find in this writer a
guide through its intricacies, whom it were hardly an exaggeration to
name as perfect. Always sound-hearted, always clear, candid, and
logical, always maintaining a certain judicial superiority, he is a
thinker in whose company one likes to go on his mental travels, and
whose thought one will be inclined to trust rather too much than too
little. In the second place, Mr. Mill discerns the limitations of the
science more clearly, and acknowledges them more frankly, than, to the
extent of our somewhat narrow conversance with such writers, has ever
been done before by any one who regarded it with equal affection and
reposed in its theories a like faith. This, too, is thoroughly
characteristic of him. He is one of the sanest and sincerest of men.
Thirdly, his inspiring and generative purpose is to lift the science
into serviceable relation to the broad interests of man. Here we come to
the real soul of the book. He accepts its customary limits chiefly that
he may transcend them. He treats of wealth with a philosophical and
cordial perception of its uses; but beyond and above this he is thinking
of man, always of man,--and of man not merely as an eater and drinker,
but as an intelligence and a candidate for moral or personal upbuilding.
A reader would regard the work with a dull eye, who should miss this
commanding feature. Sometimes by special discussions, as in his defence
of peasant-properties in land,--sometimes only by an aroma pervading his
pages, or bypassing expressions,--and always by the general ordering and
culminating tendency of his thought,--one reads this perpetual question,
the true and final question of all politics and economies:--How shall we
secure the greatest number of intelligent and worthy men and women?
But while Mr. Mill's sympathy is with the people, the many, the whole of
humanity, and while his desire for men is that they may attain the
mental elevation which shall make them really _human_ beings, yet a
marked feature of his book is the mild Malthusian element which pervades
it. Let no stigma be therefore fixed upon him. Let honor be rendered to
the courage which steadily inquires, not what representation of the
facts will win applause, but simply what the facts _are_. And
undoubtedly it is true that all considerate men in England have been
compelled to contemplate the _possibility_ of over-population, of an
insupportable pauperism, of a burden of helpless numbers which shall
sink the whole nation into abysses of starvation with all its horrible
accompaniments. It is but a few years since Ireland escaped unexampled
death by famine only by an unexampled exodus. The New World opened its
arms to the misery of the Old, and fed its famine to fatness,--and has
got few thanks. But this rescue cannot be repeated without limit. And
therefore forelooking men in England find the problem of their future
one not too easy to solve. Mr. Carlyle, among others, has grappled with
it. His brow has long been beaded with the sweat of this great
wrestling; and if he seem to some of us a little abrupt and peculiar in
his movements, we must at least do him the justice to remember that he,
after the manner of ancient Jacob, is struggling with the angel of
England's destiny. Mr. Mill, too, with an earnestness less passionate
indeed, but perhaps not less real, is toiling at the same work.
And, by the way, an instructive comparison might be drawn between these
two writers. Mr. Mill, not highly vitalized by belief, not nourished by
any grand spiritual imaginations, hampered by a hard and poor
philosophy, and with limited access to absolute truth, nevertheless, not
only belongs fully to the opening modern epoch, but through a certain
entireness of moral health and sanity is leading the time steadily
forward into its great believing and builded future; though it may
follow from his limitations that into this future he cannot accompany it
_very_ far. Mr. Carlyle, with a poetic profundity of nature and a force
of insight which entitle him not merely to a high place among the men of
our time, but to a name among the men of all time, standing face to face
with the divine reality and wonder of existence, conversing with the
heights and depths of being, and appreciating the significance of
personality, as Mr. Mill never can, will accompany our epoch into its
future farther than one can foresee, but to its present must render a
mixed and imperfect service; for a sickness runs in his veins, and he is
trying to force the age into a half-way house, which is built equally by
his hope and his despair.
Were this not merely a general characterization, but a review, of Mr.
Mill's powerful work, we should venture to take issue on some matters
both general and special,--as an example of the latter, on the possible
utility of protective duties. The reasoning by which he, in common with
his class, proves these to be necessarily futile for good, is indeed
faultless so far as it goes, but, in our clear judgment, fails to cover
the whole case; so that the question, whether as one of general polity
or of industrial economy, is still open to consideration. Especially it
may be urged, that the infancy of human industries, like the infancy of
human beings, may require protection, even though their adult vigor
could be safely left to take care of itself. Suppose it conceded that
this protection is at first costly. So are the cradle and the nursery.
Yet it may be that they "pay" in the end. Nay, as the cradle may enrich
the household through the new incentives to labor and frugality which it
supplies, so protections of industry may evoke new industrial powers,
and thus at once begin to enrich the _nation_, though the capital which
supports these fresh industries could not at first hold its own, as
against other capital, without the motherly cares it receives.
But enough. Here is a book on a matter of large and immediate
importance, put forth by one of the amplest and soundest minds of our
time,--a man so long-headed and clear-hearted, so able and intrepid to
think, to speak, and to hear correction, so intent upon high ends and so
calmly patient upon the way, that the public can neglect his thought
only by a criminal neglect of its own interests.
_A Critical History of the Doctrine of a Future Life. With a Complete
Bibliography of the Subject._ By WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER.
Philadelphia: Geo. W. Childs.
Few "signs of the times" are more significant than the disposition shown
on all sides to scrutinize and interpret the spiritual history of
mankind. Lessing, Schlegel, Herder, Hegel, Guizot, Buckle, and others,
endeavor, with various degrees of ambition and success, to estimate
history considered as a progress; Carlyle in his "Heroes" and Emerson in
the "Representative Men" regard it rather as a permanence, and seek to
present its value in typical forms; meanwhile the Bibles and mythologies
of the old world are collected, translated, subjected to interpretative
study; and the critical scholarship of our time is almost wholly engaged
in an endeavor either to arrive at the exact text or at the precise
value of all the ancient literatures.
All men have at length discovered that the history of mankind _means_
something, and are naturally intent on learning _what_ it means. No one
now regards it as a mere Devil's phantasmagoria, significant of nothing
but Adam's sin in the Garden. However differing on other points, we all
now perceive that the history of the mind of man is a more interior
history of the universe,--that it must be studied, in the most earnest
and reverential spirit of science,--that what Astronomy seeks to do in
the heavens and Geology on the earth must be done in the realms of the
mind itself,--and that, till we have found our Copernicus and our Newton
of the human soul, modern science lingers in the porch, and does not
find access to the temple. We all see that this history, not indeed as
to the succession of its outward events, but as to its interior reality,
must be grounded in the eternal truth and necessity of the universe.
What wonder, that, having been so fully penetrated by the scientific
spirit, modern minds should look with great longing toward these earths
and skies of human history, coveting some knowledge of the law by which
the thoughts and faiths of man perform their courses?
Nor any longer can "negative criticism" enlist the utmost interest. It
is construction that is now desired; and he who studies history only
that he may vanquish belief in the interest of knowledge cannot command
the attention of those whose attention is best worth having. That fable
is fable and mythus mythus no one need now plume himself on informing
us, provided he has nothing further to say. Of course, we raise no
childish and sentimental objection to what is called "negative
criticism." It may not be the best possible policy to build the new
house in the form of certain stories superimposed upon the old one,
which, perhaps, is even now hardly strong enough to sustain its own
weight. Let there be due clearing away; let us find foundations.
But the essence of the new point of view in the contemplation of history
consists in this, that we no longer seek these foundations in the mere
outward and literal history of man; we look, on the contrary, to his
inward history, to perennial hopes and imaginations, to the evidence of
his spiritual impulses and attractions, and just here find not only his
_real_ history, but also the basis for theoretical construction.
We see, indeed, as clearly as any Niebuhr or Strauss of them all, that
the imagination so pours itself into history as to supersede, or to
disguise by transfiguration, the literal facts. The incessant domination
of man's inward over his outward history is apparent enough. What then?
Does that make history worthless? Nay, it infinitely enhances the value
of history. Who are more deserving of pity than the distracted critics
that discriminate the imaginative element in the story of man's
existence only to cast it away? "Facts" do they desire? These _are_ the
facts. What is the use of always mousing about for coprolites? Give us
in the present form the product of man's spirit, and this to us shall
constitute his history. Let us know what pictures he painted on the
skies over his head, and he who desires shall be welcome to the relics
which he left in the dust under his feet.
In our own country some worthy efforts have been made to set forth
certain grand provinces in the spiritual history of the human race. Such
was Mrs. Child's most readable book,--does she ever write anything which
is not readable?--"The Progress of Religious Ideas." We have seen also
some fine lectures on "Eastern Religions,"[53] which ought to go into
print. And now Mr. Alger comes forward with his large and laborious
work, seeking to contribute his portion to these new and precious
constructions.
Mr. Alger's book is a real _work_. It is the result of no light nor
trivial labor, of no timid nor indolent essay of thought. His aim has
been to pass in _judicial_ review the thoughts and imaginations of
mankind concerning the destiny of the human soul. It is an instruction
to the jury from the bench, summing up and passing continuous judgment
upon the evidence on this subject contributed by the consciousness of
the human race.
Mr. Alger is a brave man. He does not hesitate to grapple with the
greatest thinkers, nor to measure the subtlest imaginations of all time.
In the opening chapter, for example, which is appropriately devoted to a
consideration of theories of the soul's origin, he lays hold of the
boldest speculative imaginations to which the world has given birth,
with no hesitating nor trembling hand. Occasionally the reader may,
perhaps, be more inclined to tremble for him than he for himself. One
remembers Goldsmith's line,--
"The dog it was that died";
but our author comes forth from the trial in ruddy health, and does not
seem at all out of breath. And all through the book he delivers his
sentence like a man who has earned the right to speak.
And has he not earned it? For some years Mr. Alger has been known to
scholars and others as a most indefatigable and heroic worker. This book
justifies that reputation. The amount of reading that has gone to it is
almost portentous. To us, who can hardly manage twelve books, big and
little, in as many months, this mountainous reading furnishes matter for
wonder.
Neither has this reading been chiefly a work of memorizing, nor has it
been expended chiefly upon works of history commonly so called. A
product of man's spiritual consciousness being under consideration, it
is works of thought and imagination, rather than works of narration,
which claim our author's critical attention; and his reading has been
reflective and deliberative, involving a judgment upon speculative more
than upon historical data. And it may fairly be said, though it be much
to say, that he has shrunk from nothing which a perfect performance of
his task required. Whether we consider the formation or the expression
of his judgments, it may still be affirmed that he has met his great
theme fairly, and given to its exposition the utmost exercise of his
powers and the unstinted devotion of his labor.
We can accordingly pass upon his work this rare commendation, that it is
thoroughly _honest_. This may, indeed, seem to many no very high
approval. But it is one of the very highest. For we mean by it not
merely that he has refrained from conscious misrepresentation of
fact,--that he has not lied, as Kingsley did about Hypatia in the novel
wherein he borrowed, only to befoul, the name of that spotless woman,
knowing all the while that his representation was contrary to the
recorded facts of history. To say so much only of this book would be not
to attribute to it a positive merit, but only to acquit it of damning
demerit. But what we affirm is that Mr. Alger has fairly looked his
facts in the face, and come to some understanding with himself about
them. When he speaks, therefore, it is about facts, about realities, not
merely about words; and what he offers is the result of genuine
processes of production which have gone on in his own mind. If he speak
of life, it is not life in the dictionary, but in the universe. If he
profess to offer thoughts, he really gives the results of his thinking.
He does not cant; he does not merely recite verbal formulas; he does not
play the part of attorney, first determining what to advocate, and then
seeking plausible reasons: everywhere one perceives that he has really
brought his _mind_ to bear upon _facts_, and so has come to real mental
fruit. And it is this verity, this reality and genuineness, to which we
give the name of _intellectual_ honesty. It is a rare quality; and
always the rarer in proportion to the depth of the matters treated of,
on the one hand, and to their expression in customs and institutions, on
the other. Institutions are masks. The thinker must have both
earnestness and penetration, if he is to get behind them. And just in
proportion as any element of man's spiritual consciousness has come to
institutional expression, it is the easier to talk about it and the
harder to think upon it,--to talk _about_ it without talking _of_ it.
But our author has made the distinction, and to the extent of his power
looks facts in the face.
Having come to an understanding with himself, he honestly tries, again,
to come to an understanding with the reader. He honestly imparts his
mind. We find the book in this respect worthy of especial admiration.
Mr. Alger always writes well when he is not overmuch _trying_ to write
well. If he forbear to covet striking effect, his style has perspicuity,
directness, and vigor,--the essentials of all excellent writing,--and to
these adds verbal affluence and occasional felicity. But if he be
tempted of the Devil to become eloquent, and the father of all
rhetorical evil strives hard to bring the soul of his style to
perdition, then he begins to write badly. Let him, since he is capable
of heroic things, imitate Luther, and fling his ink-pot. Even though it
light upon the page, let him not be inconsolable, but remember that no
blots are so bad as those made by ambitious inflation. We have not that
horror of "fine writing" which leads The Saturday Review and Company to
such obstreperous exclamation, and can endure the worst that Americans
are guilty of in this matter quite as well as that affectation of
off-hand ease and _nonchalance_ which enhances the native clumsiness of
many among the later English writers, and, to our mind, mars extremely
the poetry of Browning. But if a writer has some propensity to
rhetorical Babel-building, it were well for _him_ to make an effort in
the opposite direction, and try to build his sentences underground, like
the houses of the Esquimaux.
Mr. Alger's book has minor faults and major excellences. But let him be
content. He has faithfully performed a great labor, and we give him
cordial approval. To a great theme he has brought great industry, a just
appreciation, a fine spirit, and much of intellectual courage and
activity.
Add that he is a man whose soul is in sympathy with the best thought,
hope, and heart of the time. Brave, just, and humane, he is always on
the right side, and always as direct and unflinching in the utterance of
his faith as he is intrepid and right-natured in its adoption. Opinions
are expressed in his work which do not accord with those of
ecclesiastical majorities; nevertheless we think that those will thank
him who least agree with him. It were, indeed, a shame that the people
which sets the highest price upon political liberty should be the last
to welcome the higher freedoms of thought; but it is a shame, we trust,
which will not befall our country. We ourselves have, it is true, as
little affection as most men for that sort of "free thinking" which
consists in pouring out upon the public the mere wash and cerebral
excretion of unclean spirits; but when any man has brought to a
consideration of the greatest facts a pure and reverent spirit, he is
entitled to present the results of his meditations with manly
directness and vigor, as Mr. Alger has done in the work before us.
The "Complete Bibliography of the Subject" is an admirable piece of
work. We present our respects to Mr. Ezra Abbot, Jr., and wish that many
an earnest literary laborer had such a "friend."
_Dream Children._ By the Author of "Seven Little People and their
Friends." Cambridge: Seaver & Francis.
The children seem to have found their Dickens at last. But, of course,
it was to be expected that the child's Dickens would be different, in
some important respects, from the Dickens of grown-up men and women. And
so he is. Children do with the world in their thoughts pretty much as
they will; and the genuine artist, working for children, must recognize
this, or he will utterly fail. The author of "Dream Children," who made
his introduction to the reading public as the author of "Seven Little
People and their Friends," has the rare faculty of realizing for himself
the exact position and attitude of the child. This position he takes so
earnestly that he has nowhere the air of assumption or arbitrary
fiction. The child lives so much in pictures! But the pictures must not
betray one single feature of unreality, or the whole effect is spoiled;
a moral may be pointed or a tale adorned, but the child has lost his
natural food. We need such works as that under present notice to keep
children from starving,--works that are not mechanically adapted to
children, but which come to them as their own fresh, pure thoughts come,
bringing them pictures like those which their own untrammelled fancy
paints for them.
We have no space to enter into any details here. The children must do
that for themselves; but not the children alone. For, as now and then we
come upon a piece of Art, a painting or a statue, which from its subject
would seem to belong peculiarly to the child's world, but which, because
it is genuine Art, as to its manner and execution, rises out of this
confinement to a single class, becoming universal, so it is with books
of a similar character. This is true of the present work more
emphatically than of the former work by the same author. The more
external features of the work--its exquisite getting-up, in paper,
binding, and especially in illustration--are only fitting to the
inherent gracefulness of the writer's thought.
The subject is inviting, but we can only add that these short stories
exhibit the rarest freshness and purity of imagination, the richest
humor, and the most striking suggestion of an exhaustless fertility of
invention which we remember ever to have seen in any child's book
before. There is nowhere a careless execution; and the reason of this is
probably that the characters have had a leisurely growth in the author's
own mind. Generally it is supposed, that, to suit a subject to children,
it is only necessary to go through some outward manifestations and to
give the thing an air of novelty; but in this treatment there is no
freshness, and no very great or very permanent moral expression. The
writer of "Dream Children" will have a select audience, but he will have
it pretty much to himself, and, as the best of all rewards which he
could have, he will educate the thoughts of his juvenile readers
imperceptibly into a greater love and reverence for the very heart of
truth and beauty.
_Remains in Verse and Prose of Arthur Henry Hallam; with a Preface and
Memoir._ Boston. Ticknor & Fields.
A permanent, though modest, place in the literature of the English
language will be accorded to this little volume. Judged upon their
intrinsic merits as compositions, the "Remains in Verse and Prose of
Arthur Henry Hallam" would, nevertheless, hold no abiding position among
the many pleasing poems, clever dissertations, and brilliant essays
annually given to the press in Great Britain and America. Were they
brought to us as the writings of a young man dying at thirty-two,
instead of ten years earlier, we might hastily say, that, sacred as they
must be to the personal friends of the author, there was in them no
excellency sufficiently marked or marketable to warrant republication.
But there gather other interests about them when we are told that these
compositions came from the son of a very eminent man, and were written
at an age at which we congratulate ourselves, if our college-boys are
not oppressively foolish. For the rare instances of hereditary
transmission of distinguished mental power are well worth attention, and
the maturity of thought and the subtile trains of reflection in this
youth now afford that large promise of genius which may not be
confounded with those specious precocities of talent the world never
lacks. Yet it is not probable that even these attractions could give to
the literary remains of young Hallam that permanent place in letters
which we have made bold to promise them. Only the inspirations of a
great poet could wake the noblest sympathies of noblest hearts in
perennial tribute to this friend so early called from life.
The student of Shakspeare's sonnets--poems having much in common with
those written in memory of Arthur Hallam--is never tired of conjecturing
the person to whom they were addressed. Who was the "only begetter" of
these passionate offerings of the poet's love? Might he be recognized as
he walked, a man among men? or was he the splendid idealization of
genius and friendship? There are but faint answers to these questions.
After the claims of Mr. Hart, Mr. Hughes, and the Earls of Southampton
and Pembroke have been duly examined, there comes the conclusion that we
may not know who and what he was towards whom the august soul of
Shakspeare yearned with such exceeding love. Future readers of the "In
Memoriam" of Tennyson will be more favored in their knowledge of the
young man there given to fame. It will be known that he was worthy of
the deep sorrow breathed into exquisite verse,--worthy also of those
noble half-lights flashing above the sombre atmosphere, to show the
instruction, the blessedness, the beauty, which grow from human grief.
We are compelled to confess that those keen poetic glimpses into the
high regions of philosophy and science, with which the memories of his
friend inspired Tennyson, seem just dues to the brilliant auguries of a
future which this world was not permitted to see.
An outline of Arthur's life has already been given to the American
public. Little can be added to it from his father's touching preface to
the unpublished edition of these writings in 1834, which is now
reprinted. The childhood of young Hallam exhibits facility in the
acquisition of knowledge, sweetness of temper, and scrupulous adherence
to a sense of duty. At the age of nine he reads Latin and Greek with
tolerable facility, and achieves dramatic compositions which excite the
admiration of the father,--a thoroughly competent, unless partial,
critic. This luxuriance of fancy is judiciously received; no display is
made of it, and Arthur is sent to school at Putney, where he remains for
two years. The common routine of English education is more than once
broken by tours upon the Continent. When the boy leaves Eton in 1827,
his father pronounces him "a good, though not, perhaps, first-rate
scholar in the Latin and Greek languages." As certain Latin verses
referred to are, for some inscrutable reason, omitted in this American
edition, the reader has no means of deciding whether it is the modest
reserve of the parent which pronounces them "good, without being
excellent," or the fond partiality of the father which discovers them to
be "good" at all. In any case, we must consider Arthur's "comparative
deficiency in classical learning," for which the eminent historian seems
almost to apologize, as one of his especial felicities. The liberalizing
effect of travel, and a varied contact with men and things, prevented
his powers from contracting themselves to a merely academical
reputation. When at Cambridge, he renounces all competition in the
niceties of classical learning, and does not attempt Latin or Greek
composition during his stay at Trinity. Thus he escapes the fate of many
quick minds, which, running easily upon college grooves, that end in the
indorsement of a corporation, never make out to accept their own
individuality for better and for worse. Arthur enters upon legal studies
with acuteness, and not without interest. A few anonymous writings
occupy his leisure. He is now just rising upon the world,--a brilliant
orb, as yet seen only by a few watchers, who congratulate each other
upon the light to be. A fatal tour to Germany, and all ends in darkness
and mystery.
Judging from the writings before us, we should say that this young man
was destined to a greater eminence in philosophy than in poetry. His
father's opinion, in reverse of this, was perhaps based upon average
tendencies of character, instead of selected specimens of production.
The best prose papers here printed, the "Essay on the Philosophical
Writings of Cicero," and the "Review of Professor Rossetti," are far
more remarkable for the ease with which accurate information is
subjected to original, and even profound thought, than are the poems for
brilliancy of imagination or mastery over the capacities of language.
Still, it must be confessed, that the sonnets are full of melody and
refinement,--indeed, we can recall no poet who has written much better
at the same age. In all Arthur's compositions we recognize an exquisite
delicacy of feeling, without any of the daintiness of mind commonly
found in intellectual youths. He seems to have acquired much of his
father's command of reading, and to have inherited those rarer faculties
of selection and generalization which give to learning its coherence and
significance. In contrast to the precise and somewhat hard literary
style of the elder Hallam, the diction of the son glows with the
sensitiveness of a highly artistic nature. Arthur's attainments in the
modern languages appear to have been considerable. He is said to have
spoken French readily, and to have ranged its literature as familiarly
as that of England. His Italian sonnets are pronounced by competent
authority to be very remarkable for a foreigner. They are certainly
marvellous for a boy of seventeen after an eight months' visit to Italy.
In fine, upon the testimony presented in this volume, we think that no
considerate reader will hesitate to credit Arthur Hallam with a rich and
generous character, a wide sweep of thought rising from the groundwork
of solid knowledge, and the delicate aërial perceptions of high
imaginative genius.
Surely the life whose untimely end called forth "In Memoriam" was not
lost to the world. Perhaps it was by dying that the moral and
intellectual gifts of this youth could most effectively reach the hearts
of men. He was not unworthy his noble monument. As we turn to the
familiar lyrics, they swell and deepen with a new harmony. Again, the
genius of Tennyson bears us onward through tenderest allegory and
subtlest analogy, until, breaking from cares and questionings so
melodiously uttered, his soul soars upward through thin philosophies of
the schools, and at length, in grandest spiritual repose, rests beside
the friend "who lives with God." It is good to know that the "A.H.H."
forever encircled by the halo of that matchless verse does not live only
as the idealization of the poet.
_History of West Point, and its Military Importance during the American
Revolution, and the Origin and Progress of the United States Military
Academy._ By Captain EDWARD C. BOYNTON, A.M., Adjutant of the Military
Academy. New York: D. Van Nostrand.
In every country there must be localities the names of which are
particularly associated with the national history. But in the United
States there are few such places that are not portions of some one of
the States; and if they have been the scene of incidents sufficient in
number and importance to furnish material for an historical monograph,
or so-called _local_ history, it will probably derive its special
interest and coloring mainly from events of the Colonial period and the
development of the material prosperity of the particular State or
section. The associations of West Point, the seat of the United States
Military Academy, are in this respect remarkable, that they derive their
interest exclusively from circumstances incidental to the birth and
progress of the nation. The history of the place is an important part of
the nation's history. Compared with more comprehensive annals, wherein
minute description of places and persons is impossible from the breadth
of view, local histories leave on the reader more vivid impressions by
affording a more microscopic and personal inspection. Where the minor
history, as we may call it, is thus connected with the greater story of
the body politic, it always enables the mind to combine, in the sequence
of cause and effect, a certain series of events in the course of the
nation's life, leaving a more distinct apprehension of the reality of
that life in the past, by giving a rapid glance, under strong light,
over a part, than usually remains after the perusal of larger works
which attempt the survey of the whole.
From the beginning of the history of the United States, the
administrative power of the National Government has been continuously
exercised at West Point, to the exclusion of all other authority. It was
occupied by the Continental forces at the commencement of the
Revolutionary contest, as a place of the greatest strategic importance.
It was the objective point in that drama of Arnold's treason, which, by
involving the fate of André, is remembered as one of the most romantic
incidents in the story of the war. In Captain Boynton's new "History of
West Point," the aspect of the place, in connection with the events of
that time, is given by that method of description which always leaves
the sense of historic verity. The maps, plans, reports, letters, and
accounts, with the spelling and types, though by no means with the
printing or the paper of past days, are reproduced; and the actors on
the scene, not only those of high position, whose names are household
words, but those also whose part was humbler and whose memory is
obscure, are allowed to present themselves to us as they appeared before
the public of their own day. The first part of the volume gives the
history of the place as it has been occupied for strategic purposes. The
second part is devoted to its history as the seat of the Military
Academy, a history which succeeds immediately to the former, and is
intimately connected with the history of our internal government from
its first organization under the Constitution to the present hour; so
that the history of the locality presents itself as a brilliantly
colored thread running through the warp of the national history. In the
composition of this portion, as of the other, the author has presented
his subject, not so much in his own narrative, as by a judicious
combination of extracts from documents and papers of original authority;
although his own observations, by way of connection and explanation, are
given in good taste, and indicate a candid judgment, founded upon a
manifestly loving, but still essentially impartial, observation. It
should be no wonder, if the graduates of the Academy, who continue their
connection with the army in mature years, should always regard the place
through a vista of memory and affection, shedding over it a brilliancy
to which others might be insensible. To most of them it has been as a
home,--to many, probably, the only home of their youth; and, in the
unsettled life of the soldier, we can conceive that to no other spot
would their recollections recur with like feeling. We believe, that, in
the society which gathers more or less permanently around the Academy,
the feeling of a home-circle towards its absent members follows the
graduates during their military service; and that they, on the other
hand, are always conscious of a peculiar observation exercised from the
place over their conduct; so that each one, during an honorable career,
may look forward to revisiting it, from time to time, as a place
associated by family-ties. This influence upon the individual graduate
must be a very powerful incentive. It must, in the nature of the case,
be unperceived by the public, but its value to the public will be
enhanced by the observation which they may extend to the Academy; and it
is eminently proper that such observation should be courted by the
Government, and by those who represent it on the spot; the opportunity
should be given to all, irrespectively of civil or military place, to
become acquainted with its general management, the principles on which
it is established, and the terms which the cadet makes with the country
on entering, and to see, from time to time, a general _résumé_ of its
working and success. A book which tells this, in its natural association
with the narrative of all that gives the locality its name in our
history, promotes a national interest and supplies a public want.
Captain Boynton's book should command the interest of those who know
most of West Point, and of those who know nothing about it. To some it
will be a grateful source of reminiscence, and to others of
entertainment combined with information which has acquired an increased
interest for the citizen.
Not the least inviting portion of the book is that which relates to the
topography and scenery of the Point. It is one of the singularities of
our frame of government, that the nation is the lord of so little soil
in the inhabited portion of its own dominion: though it is well to
remember that territorial sovereignty is not, as many persons imagine,
the only kind of sovereignty, nor, indeed, the most important kind; for
there is sovereignty over persons, which may be held without eminent
domain over the soil. Allegiance is personal. It is not based on the
feudal doctrine of tenures. The notion of many persons respecting the
right of the people of a State to carry themselves out of the nation is
connected with false conceptions on this subject. It is pleasant to
think that one of the places in which the nation is the land-owner and
exclusive sovereign is celebrated for historic events, and also
preëminently distinguished for beauty of situation. This circumstance
undoubtedly contributes to the hold which the place has on the minds of
those who have passed a portion of their youth on the spot, and it has
evidently been a source of inspiration to the author, and, we may say,
to the publisher, too, who have combined in making this a book of luxury
as well as of useful reference, a parlor-book. The pictorial
illustrations they have given add greatly to its value; and in this
matter they might safely have gone even farther. This book is intended
to make the spot familiar to the minds of many in various parts of the
national domain. Most persons of any leisure, in this section of the
country, have either themselves visited the banks of the Hudson or are
familiar with scenery somewhat similar in some part of the Eastern or
Middle States. But there are multitudes in the South and West of our
conlinental empire who have hardly ever seen a rock bigger than a man's
body, and who can, except by the aid of pictures, have no idea of a
river hemmed in by mountains. The view given in this book of the
localities in 1780, after a drawing made at the time by a French
officer, is more valuable in this respect, we think, than for the
historical purpose; and we should have preferred a similar view of the
place as it now appears.
In common with all institutions which are the means of power and
influence, the Academy has been regarded with jealousy. It has
occasionally been assailed by an hostility which must always exist, and
which its friends should always be prepared to meet. Captain Boynton has
fairly stated and answered the objections commonly advanced. Among those
recently put forth is the complaint that no great military genius has
been produced from the Academy. The question might be asked, Does ever
any school produce the genius? It is contrary to the definition of
genius to be produced by such instrumentality. If no such military
phenomenon has been seen, the only inference is, that the genius was not
in the country, or that the circumstances of the country gave no
opportunity for its development; and the question is, Should we, in the
absence of genius, have done better without such an academy to educate
the available talent of the country to military service? Goethe has
said, that, to figure as a great genius in the world's history, one must
have some great heritage in the consequences of antecedent events,--that
Napoleon inherited the French Revolution. Though Napoleon developed
military art beyond his predecessors, there is no reason to suppose that
a soldier with natural endowments equal to his could now become the
inspirer of a similar degree of progress. The ordinary method of
appointment of cadets is described and vindicated by the author. While
it does not appear, _a priori_, to be the best possible, it must be said
that it is hard to devise any better one. It is always to be borne in
mind that appointment does not by any means involve graduation. Enough
have graduated to supply the wants of the army in ordinary times, and
these have been selected from about three times the number of
appointees. It is often said that equally competent persons would offer
themselves from civil life. To maintain this, it must be held, either
that the education given by the Academy is not of important benefit, or
that the same benefit may be attained without it. But no one pretends to
say that the education is not of the utmost importance; and, as Captain
Boynton shows conclusively, we think, it is impossible for any one to
attain it by unassisted study, either before or after entering the army,
while it is utterly out of the power of any private institution to give
a similar training.
Among the treasons incident to the Rebellion, none struck loyal minds
more painfully than the desertion of the national right by Southern
cadets and graduates of West Point. Some supposed that the diligent
inculcation of State-Sovereignty doctrine by every organ of Southern
opinion could not alone have caused this breach of plighted faith, and
it was charged against the education given at the Academy, that it was
based on "principles which permitted no discrimination between acts
morally wrong in themselves, and acts which, destitute of immorality,
are, nevertheless, criminal, because prohibited by the regulations of
the institution." The charge indicated a gross misconception of the
subject. The conduct-roll, which is to determine the standing of the
cadet according to a total of demerit-marks, must include in one list
delinquencies against all rules, whatever may be their source. But
besides this scale for classification, the military law, to which
cadets, as part of the army, are amenable, refers all immoralities and
criminalities to a military tribunal. It would be well, if our
collegians would try to estimate the effect, moral, intellectual, and
physical, of the training of the Academy, as contrasted with that which
they are receiving, and, in comparing a collegiate with a West-Point
graduation, to remember that the cadet has been on service, and would
have been discharged by his paymaster, if he had not done his duty,
while in the colleges the professors serve for the pay, and would lose
their bread and butter, if there were no degrees given.
_Roundabout Papers_. By W.M. THACKERAY. New York: Harper & Brothers.
We had scarcely finished reading this admirable volume of essays when
news of the author's death was transmitted across the sea. And now we
are to look no longer at our shelf which holds "Vanity Fair,"
"Fendennis," "The Newcomes," and "Henry Esmond," and think of the
writer's busy brain as still actively engaged over new and delightful
books destined some day to claim their places beside the
companion-volumes we have so many times taken down for pure enjoyment
during the last twenty years. Do you remember, who read this brief
notice of the man so recently passed away, a passage in one of these
same "Roundabout Papers," where this sentence holds the eye half-way
down the page,--"I like Hood's life even better than his books, and I
wish with all my heart, _Monsieur et cher confrère_, the same could be
said for both of us when the ink-stream of our life hath ceased to run"?
Only they who knew Thackeray out of his books can believe that this
desire came earnestly from his heart to his readers. He was a man to be
misunderstood continually; but his record will be found a noble one,
when the true story of his career is told. His greatness as an author,
his striking merit as an artist in the delineation of character, can
never fail to be rightly estimated; but few will ever know the
thousandth part of the good his generous deeds have accomplished in the
world,--deeds done in secret, and forever hidden from the eye of
public-charity hunters. His life had struggles, many and crushing; but
with a noble fortitude he pursued his calling when sorrow held down his
heart and wellnigh had the power to palsy his hand. This is no place for
his eulogy; but we could not notice the publication of his latest volume
without thus briefly recording our tribute to the author's memory. Since
the death of Macaulay, England has sustained no greater loss in the
ranks of her literary men.
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