England stands in the somewhat anomalous attitude of being to us the

champion of the old monarchical principle, and to Europe the champion of

Anglo-Saxon progress; so that the _dicta_ of her thinkers (those who

have opposed our Republic) may be regarded as the best thought of the

most enlightened monarchists in the world. As the ministry are obliged,

however unwillingly, to represent as well the popular as the

aristocratic ideas, through them there comes to us a pretty correct

exposition of the different opinions entertained by all classes. We may

regard two facts as well established, one leading out of the

other,--that England has ever been, and is, the most selfish of

nationalities, and that she does not desire the prosperity of any power

which may become a rival. With her politicians and her philosophers,

Tory and Whig, Churchmen and Dissenters, the ascendancy of Great Britain

has lain at the bottom of every policy, and has been the postulate of

every theory. Her history is that of a nationality eager to attain the

distinction of the first of powers. This fact, and this alone, can

reconcile the apparent inconsistencies of her record. At one time the

bold accuser of Despotism, she has with marvellous celerity turned to

the inthralment of oppressed races. Maxim has superseded maxim, until

her code of international law is a bewildering complication of anomaly

and contradiction. To humble her rivals by every means, and to encourage

the efforts of a people striving for freedom only when decided advantage

would accrue to herself, has been her constant policy. This is true of

the general tone of her successive cabinets, of the press, and of those

politicians who have by comfortable doctrines most successfully gained

the public ear.

The classes who look at questions of policy with an eye to expediency

are, the leading statesmen of both parties, who regard as the proper end

of their labors the interests of Great Britain, and the

business-community, who judge of every political event by the manner in

which it affects their pockets. There are two other classes, who take a

higher view,--those who are conservative and fearful of innovation, and

those who believe in the progressive tendency of the Anglo-Saxon. Within

the last quarter of a century, the public opinion of England has been

undergoing a great change, especially that part of it which is

influenced by the lower-middle class. The people have been growing up to

the adoption of liberal principles of government. The Reform Bill of

1832 was a great stride in that direction; and the measures which have

followed upon it have widened the observation of the masses, made the

sense of political wrong quicker, and the appreciation of a free system

much more vivid. As a natural result, the attention of this class has

been drawn toward America, as the exponent of a government before which

all men are equal,--and so it is, that, as the Rebellion goes on, we

receive weekly evidence that the sober, honest thought of English

opinion is with us of the North. The class to which we refer, if it is

not now, will very shortly be, the governing element. The tendency is

irresistibly that way; the signs of its growing power are daily more and

more manifest. That it should be deeply interested in the perpetuity of

American institutions, as affecting its own position, is natural. In the

failure of man's self-governing capacity here, where every circumstance

has been favorable to its exercise, the rising spirit of a broader

liberty in England must foresee the death-blow to its own hopes. Our

failure will not be fatal to us alone; it will involve the fate of the

millions who are now seeking to plant themselves against the tremendous

force of kingly and patrician prestige. They have hitherto derived from

our example all the inspiration with which they have struggled upward.

They have been able to accomplish, step by step, important alterations

in the unwritten constitution, by the apt comparisons their leaders have

been able to make between American and British civilization. So that, in

considering the forces at work to influence those at the head of

affairs, it is necessary to consider that force which is imperceptibly,

but subtly, brought to bear upon them by the working-class. Mr. Beecher,

and other eminent Americans who have lately visited England, tell us

that this class are almost to a man sympathizers with us; and that this

sympathy has in many cases worked favorably to us cannot be doubted.

Even the operatives and manufacturers of Manchester and Leeds, at first,

a little morose because of the effect of the war on their industry, seem

to have come to a better second-thought, and are now outspoken for the

North.

The different elements of English feeling toward us may be, we think,

stated thus. The aristocracy would view with complacency the disruption

of the Union, because we are a rival power, and they are thoroughly

pledged to British aggrandizement; because the success of the Union

would belie the principle whence they derive their prerogative, and

encourage the opposing element of popular rights to greater exertions

for ascendancy; because hatred of democracy is a sentiment inherited, as

well as a principle of self-preservation; and because they have not

forgotten the former dependence of America on England. The ministry feel

toward us as the servants of a jealous power would naturally feel toward

a rival. The theorists are eager for events to crown them with the

flattery of verified prediction. The commercial classes are ill pleased

that their thrift should be curtailed; the manufacturers grumble about

the scarcity of cotton. The timid minds of some honest thinkers did not

see the real issue, until the regular developments of the war satisfied

them; the lower orders had to be told before they could comprehend that

in our destiny they must read the counterpart of their own. Those

pretentious philanthropists who have assumed to direct the anti-slavery

party in England have mostly espoused the Southern side of the quarrel;

thus demonstrating that their moral scruples have no higher source than

their own political advantage, and no more lofty end than to divide and

distract a sister-nation. Of these we may instance the most conspicuous

of all, Lord Brougham,--who, after having for half a century derived all

the benefit he could from the striking and pathetic points in slavery to

vivify his eloquence, turns the bitter vial of his dotage against those

who stake everything upon its extinction. But everybody knows that Lord

Brougham is a type of those statesmen who stand by the people in the

Commons and grind the people in the Lords; who, after crying down public

wrongs, upon finding the responsibility of a coronet on their shoulders,

suddenly become arrant sticklers for hereditary rights. We are amused to

notice, among those peers who have risen above the selfishness by which

they are surrounded, and have given us a well-timed sympathy, but few

who are of new creations: for the Duke of Argyle and the Earls of

Carlisle and Clarendon are descendants of the oldest and proudest houses

in the realm.

It is gratifying to observe that those forces which are operating

against us are those which are rapidly losing that control in public

affairs which belonged to past phases of society; while those forces

which are proper to the present, and are inevitably to assume the

preponderance in the future, appear as they develop to be more and more

sympathetic with the cause of our national integrity. Aristocratic

prestige is shrinking back before an advancing enlightenment which

elevates all to equal dignity.

The present ministry is a fair type of the selfishness of British

statesmanship. The antecedents of its principal members are those of

timeserving politicians. Lord Palmerston, starting on his career as a

Tory of the Wellington stamp, has veered round as the tide has turned

against his former associates, and is the still distrusted

representative of the Liberal party. Lord Russell, in the youth of his

public service a Radical reformer, and the eager disciple of Sir Francis

Burdett when Sir Francis Burdett could not lead a corporal's guard, once

the prop and hope of those who sought a wider suffrage, has again and

again eaten his own words, and the history of his political life is a

ludicrous illustration of the perplexities of politicians. His

invariable course as a diplomatist has been to leave the way open to

prevarication, to keep his opinions in a cloud, and to confound sense

with ambiguity. It would be pure credulity to place much confidence in

the expressions of a statesman who within two months boldly censured and

then as boldly favored the designs of Victor Emmanuel on Venice,

officially and unblushingly before all Europe. Both these noble lords,

however, are fortunate in a keen appreciation of the national

prejudices, and know how to make use of the existing tone of public

feeling. A long vicissitude of successes and failures has taught both a

lesson which is every day a practical benefit; and after finding that

they were powerless when mutually opposed, they have succeeded in

swallowing the hatred of half a century, that they may join and divide

the power. The fact that there has been for some time a Tory majority in

the House of Commons shows the cunning with which Palmerston

manoeuvres his machinery. If we could conclude at all from his acts

what his sentiments are toward America, there is little love wasted on

us from that quarter; and Lord Russell, even while addressing the House

of Lords in terms favorable to us, never lets the occasion pass without

slipping in a sneer between his praises.

Selfishness, national or individual, is ever cautious and ever

suspicious. It seldom rashly grasps the thing coveted: it oftener lets

the apt occasion pass without improvement. The diplomatic intercourse

between Lord Palmerston's government and our own for the last year or

two amply illustrates this. He had in the first place no prepossession

in favor of the United States. We believe that he was not at all

unwilling to see the Union dissolved. It was natural for a statesman

hardened by fifty years of intrigue and devotion to politics to look

with absolute gratification upon what seemed the dissolution of a great,

and, because a near, a hated rival. We do not think it too much to

assume, that, as far as Palmerston's personal feelings were concerned,

he was ready for the chance of Southern recognition at the outset. In

such a sentiment, he had the sympathy of the aristocracy, and of all

others who take the low standard of self-aggrandizement in determining

opinions. Two circumstances, however, were a restraint upon him, and

appealed with controlling force to his caution. He was not only an

aristocrat and a hater of republics, he was also the Prime-Minister of

_all_ England. He was absolutely dependent to a great degree upon the

lower orders for the permanence of his present dignity. Was it wise in

him to disregard the sentiments of those who were advancing to the

predominance, and resort for support to those whose power was rapidly

waning, whose opinions were yielding to the newer intelligence? Would it

not be fatally inconsistent in a Liberal statesman to override every

Liberal maxim and belie every Liberal profession? Was not the popular

current too strong to be safely defied? There were Liberal statesmen

enough of conspicuous merit to take his place at the helm, should he

make the misstep: Gladstone, Gibson, Herbert, Granville, would fully

answer the popular demand: his downfall, if it came, would doubtless be

final. His private feelings, therefore, even his political wishes, must

yield to policy. His love of place is too strong to succumb either to

personal prejudice or national jealousy; and the long habit has made the

self-denial more easy.

The other reason why Lord Palmerston has withheld open comfort from the

Rebels is doubtless to be found in the steady adherence of our

Government to the position which it assumed at the beginning,--in the

promptness with which we have insisted upon our rights throughout the

world,--the grace with which we have disavowed the evident errors of

public servants,--the steadiness of our military progress,--the ease

with which we have borne the strain upon our resources in respect both

of men and money,--the possible, if not probable, success of the

war,--the certainty that that success would strengthen our system, and

render us capable of resenting foreign insult. For while Lord Palmerston

and Lord Russell are very apt to stalk about and threaten and talk very

loudly at nations whose weakness causes them not to be feared, and by

bullying whom some power or money may slide into British hands, they are

slow to provoke nations whose resentment either is or may become

formidable to British weal. The British lion roars over the impotence of

Brazil: he lies still and watches before the might of Napoleon. In the

one case he stands forth the lordly king of beasts; in the other he

seems metamorphosed into the fox. The hope that America would descend

incontinently to the rank of an inferior power was quickly dispelled; so

the lion crouched and the foxy head appeared. The everlasting caution

came in and said,--"Wait your chance; a hasty judgment is always a poor

judgment; let events take their course, and if occasion offers, strike

the right blow at the right time; but do not decree away the stability

of the Union either by the illusion of hope or by an expectation as yet

ill-founded." It was the wisdom of the serpent, eager, and conquering

eagerness.

Under the cloak of a pretended neutrality, the ministry have had

opportunity to watch the course of events, to connive at aid to the

Rebellion, and to leave themselves unembarrassed when the success of

one side or the other should make it expedient to declare in its favor.

It has been with the greatest difficulty that Mr. Adams has been able to

bring the Foreign Office to exert its authority against violations of

that neutrality. Vessels, known well enough to be in the service of the

Confederates, or intended for their use, have been allowed to escape

from the Clyde, and to put into British ports to refit. Frequent

conflicts on questions of international law have arisen, in which our

Government has invariably insisted upon the known precedents set by

Great Britain, and which that power has generally deemed it prudent to

follow. In the case of the Trent, if we lost the possession of two

valuable prisoners of war, we at all events, by promptly disavowing the

act of Commodore Wilkes, set England an example of fairness which she

has been loath to follow, but which it would have been folly totally to

disregard. Yet it has been apparent that the British ministers have

borne us no good-will. Whatever justice has been done us has been done

grudgingly,--with the moroseness of an enemy who is compelled to yield.

While Lord Russell has been cautious how he offended our Government in

acts, his repeated sneers in Parliament, at dinners, and on the hustings

have exhibited the rancor of a jealous mind. There has been no hearty

will to do justice, no word other than of discouragement. Even the

amicable assurances which customarily pass between the statesmen of two

nations seem to have been dropped. We believe that any American would

rather bear the manly and outspoken denunciations of the Earl of Derby,

consistent and honest in his hostility, than the sly, covert

insinuations to which the Foreign Secretary gives utterance, at the very

time he is advocating a favorable course toward us.

The ministry have constantly been met with the fact that our Government

has assumed throughout that the Union was to be preserved, and both the

act and the possibility of secession forever crushed. They cannot have

failed to observe, that, while the inevitable fortune of war has at

times brought momentary depression to our arms, the field of the

Rebellion has steadily contracted,--that those great conflicts which

have seemed drawn games have contributed in every instance to the

general end,--that repulse has been invariably followed by overbalancing

success. They must have been aware that the contrast between the feeling

of the North and that of the South has tended to foreshadow the issue.

Upon grounds of political economy, a life-long study to them, they must

have viewed with vast suspicion the ability of a people to attain

independence, who are trammelled by a blockade which they are themselves

fain to acknowledge effectual, prevented from the usual methods of

subsistence by inferiority of population, and under dreadful

apprehensions from the existence in their midst of millions of

malcontent slaves. They have not needed a subtle knowledge of political

philosophy to teach them that during the progress of the war the Federal

idea has received new strength, which its success will make permanent,

and which only total failure can diminish. Their favorite doctrine, that

governments within a government cannot exist, and that our Constitution

is weakened by the accession of every new State and the rise of every

new disagreement, is meeting its refutation every day. A concentration

of extraordinary power at the centre does not seem to shatter every bond

of union, as they have predicted,--and the States hold together and work

together with amazing zeal for so feeble a tie as that they have

represented. In their intercourse with our Government, they have

illustrated the effect which events have had on their policy.

The course pursued by our Government seems to us to present a favorable

contrast to that pursued by Great Britain. The United States has always

manifested an anxiety to preserve amity. But the effort to preserve

amity has been dignified. We have claimed to be treated as a friendly

sovereign State. We have urged that the war should be regarded by

foreign powers as the rightful exercise of a complete nationality to

suppress insurrection. That the insurgents should be put upon a par with

the Government, that they should enjoy the benefits of an established

system, that they should have every right and every immunity as if the

quarrel were between equal powers, has seemed to us a fallacy tinctured

with deep prejudice. That feeling has been courteously, but firmly

represented by our ministers. Since it pleased the European courts to

proclaim their neutrality, we have borne the injustice temperately, and

have confined our demands to our rights under that _status_. When the

conduct of Great Britain has been of so irritating a nature as to

produce universal indignation throughout the community, our statesmen

have moderated the popular anger, and have remonstrated patiently as

well as firmly. They have discerned more accurately than the multitude

could do the evils of a twofold war, and yet have not avoided the

danger, when to avoid it would have been disgraceful. Whatever may be

the opinion of any as to Mr. Seward's political career, it is generally

admitted that as Secretary of State he has accomplished the better

thought of the nation. In his hands our foreign relations have been

administered with prudence, with minute attention, and with great

dignity. He has constantly maintained the idea of our national

integrity, the full expectation of our final success, the continued

efficacy of the Federal system, and our right to be considered none the

less a compact nationality because the insurrection has taken the form

of State secession. Our diplomatic intercourse has been confined to

strictly diplomatic etiquette. No attempt has been made to justify, for

the satisfaction of foreign courts, either the origin of the war, or the

modes which have been adopted in its prosecution. It has not been deemed

necessary to retaliate upon the Confederate agents who fill Europe with

their tale of woe, by retorting upon them a reference to the unchristian

practices of their soldiery. There has been no appeal to the moral

sympathies of the Old World, by harping upon the enormities of slavery,

and by announcing a crusade against it. Foreign communities have been

left to the ordinary modes of information, to the press and the accounts

of American and European orators, for the events which have been

passing. It has contented us to let the record speak for itself, to

attach infamy where it is due, to extort praise where praise is merited.

We have not shown an ungenerous exultation at the embroilments of

European politics, as diverting the hostile attention of enemies from

our own affairs. "We are content," says Mr. Seward, in a despatch to Mr.

Adams, "to rely upon the justice of our cause, and our own resources and

ability to maintain it." We have not sought the aid of any power; we

have only desired to sustain out admitted rights, and to be free from

external interference.

It is surprising that Earl Russell should intimate his dissatisfaction

that we have been less quick to offence from France than from England.

The reason why we should not, in his opinion, feel so is the very reason

why we should. He thinks, because our relations have been more intimate

with England, because we speak the same language and inherit the same

Anglo-Saxon genius, that therefore we should be more patient with her.

But these circumstances seem to us to aggravate the treatment we have

received at her hands. It has appeared to us unnatural that a nation so

identified with us should mistrust us, and embrace every occasion to

slight us where they could safely do so. The closer the tie, the deeper

the wound. Besides, despite the common ground upon which England and

America have stood, the past bequeaths us little grudge against France,

much against England. France was the patron, England the bitter enemy,

of our national infancy. Our arms have never closed with those of

France; we have fought England twice, and virulently. Our diplomatic

intercourse with England has been a series of misunderstandings; that

with France has been, in general, harmonious. In later times, French

essayists and journalists have been tolerant of our faults, and eloquent

over our virtues; and not a little good feeling has been produced among

our educated classes by the fairness and acuteness with which one of the

greatest of modern Frenchmen, De Tocqueville, has considered our

institutions. On the other hand, the English press and the English

Parliament have been outspoken in their contempt of America; and the

offence has been enhanced by the peculiarly insulting terms in which the

feeling has been expressed. Such facts cannot but intensify our chagrin

at finding that power which we had always regarded as our companion in

the march of modern progress ill-disposed to sympathy now in the time of

our trouble.

Mr. Seward has well expressed our attitude towards England in a few

words:--"The whole case may be summed up in this. The United States

claim, and they must continually claim, that in this war they are a

whole sovereign nation, and entitled to the same respect, as such, that

they accord to Great Britain. Great Britain does not treat them as such

a sovereign, and hence all the evils that disturb their intercourse and

endanger their friendship. Great Britain justifies her course, and

perseveres. The United States do not admit the justification, and so

they are obliged to complain and stand upon their guard. Those in either

country who desire to see the two nations remain in this relation are

not well-advised friends of either of them."

Our relations with France during the war have not been dissimilar to

those with England, but have been less grating and more courteous. The

same difficulties in regard to neutral rights have arisen; and the

Imperial cabinet have seemed throughout favorable to the South. But the

popular feeling, as far as it is patent, is decidedly more favorable to

us than that of England; whatever has been said against us has been said

considerately and temperately; and there has been at no period any

imminent danger of war. The design of Napoleon to mediate was

interpreted by the community as hostile and aggressive in its object.

The President, we think justly, took what appears a more simple

view,--that the Emperor miscalculated the actual condition of the

country, and a mistaken desire to advise induced him to take the course

he did. But those who know France best tell us that the Imperial opinion

is far from being the index of the popular opinion, on any subject; and

every evidence induces the conclusion that there is a strong

undercurrent of sympathy for America throughout France.

Of all the foreign powers, Russia has been the only one which has given

us cordial, unstinted encouragement. The sovereign, the most liberal and

enlightened Czar who ever ascended the Muscovite throne, has expressed

himself again and again the constant friend of the Union. It is

agreeable to reflect that that vast empire, now far on its way to a

liberal constitution, and hastened, instead of retarded by its august

head, should lend the moral force of its unqualified good-will to the

cause of American liberty. The noble words of Prince Gortschakoff to our

envoy will be grateful to every loyal American heart:--"We desire above

all things the maintenance of the American Union, as one indivisible

nation. Russia has declared her position, and will maintain it. There

will be proposals for intervention. Russia will refuse any invitation of

the kind. She will occupy the same ground as at the beginning of the

struggle. You may rely upon it, she will not change."

Our relations with other nations have not been important, and are quite

similar to those with England and France. But, generally, the belief and

hope in the final success of the Union have been steadily strengthening

throughout Europe. The idea of our centralization has become more vivid;

and far juster estimates of our character and institutions have been

formed. When the war shall have been brought to a successful issue, we

shall have afforded a noble proof of the full efficiency of a republican

system over an intelligent people. Our own sinews will be compact, and

our spirit will be infused into the aspirations of distant peoples. It

may not be presumptuous to feel that our efforts are not for ourselves

alone, but that they tell upon the fate of the earnest and hopeful

millions who are striving for disenthralment in the Old World. Let us,

then, expand our just ambition beyond the object of our national

integrity; let us embrace within our own hopes the dawning fortunes of a

free Italy and a free Hungary, of Poland liberated, of Greece

regenerated. While nerving ourselves for the final struggle, let the

sublime thought that our success will reach in its vast results the

limits of the Christian world bring us redoubled strength. For if we

should fall, the thrones of despots are fixed for centuries; if we

triumph, in due time they will vanish and crumble to the dust. Those

sovereigns who are wise will appear in the van, leading their people to

the blessings of the liberty they have so long yearned for; those who

throw themselves in the way will be overwhelmed by the resistless tide.

To such an end we fight, and suffer, and wait; the greater the stake,

the more fearful the ordeal; but Providence smiles upon those whose aim

is freedom, and through danger guides to consummation.

* * * * *

REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.

_The Roman and the Teuton_: A Series of Lectures delivered before the

University of Cambridge. By CHARLES KINGSLEY, M.A., Professor of Modern

History. Cambridge and London: Macmillan & Co.

Mr. Kingsley is a vivid and entertaining mediator between Carlyle and

commonplace. In his younger days and writings he mediated between his

master and commonplace radicalism,--representing the great Scot's

antagonism to existing institutions, his sympathy with man as man, and

his hope of a more human society, but representing it with sufficient

admixture of vague fancy, Chartist catchword, weak passionateness, and

spasmodic audacity, based, as such ever is, on moral cowardice. Of late

he has gone to the other side of his master, and now mediates between

him and the Thirty-Nine Articles and the Hanover family,--representing

Carlyle's passionate craving for supereminent persons, his passionate

abhorrence of democracy, his admiration of strong character, his

disposition to work from historical bases rather than from absolute

principles, but representing them at once with a prudence of common

sense and a prudence of self-seeking and timidity which are alike

foreign to his master's spirit.

We prefer the second phase of the man. It belongs more properly to him.

He is ambitious; and the _rôle_ which he first assumed is one which

ambition can only spoil. He has but a weak faith in principles, and

flinches and flies off to "Prester John," or somewhere into the clouds,

when at last principle and sentiment must either fly off or fairly take

the stubborn British _taurus_ by the horns. And in truth, his early

creed was in part merely passionate and foolish, and with courage and

disinterestedness to do more he would have professed less. His present

position is better,--that is, sounder and sincerer. Better for _him_,

because more limited and British, leaving him room still to toil at good

work, and not calling upon him to break with Church and State, which he

really has not the heart to do. As head of the hierarchy of beadles, he

is an effective and even admirable man, pious, zealous, and reformatory;

but institutions are more necessary to him than principles, and any

attempt to plant himself purely on the latter places him in a false

position.

Mr. Kingsley has fine gifts and good purposes. He has a rare power of

realizing scenes and characters,--a power equally rare of presenting

them in vivid, pictorial delineation. He must be a very engaging

lecturer, imparting to his official labor an interest which does not

always belong to labors of like kind.

For discoursing upon history he has important qualifications, which it

would be uncandid not to acknowledge. Of these it is the first that he

clings manfully, despite the tendencies of our time, to the human,

rather than the extra-human stand-point. He respects personality; he

treats of men, not of puppets; he is old-fashioned enough to believe

that men may be moved from within no less than from without, and does

not attempt, as Quinet has it, to abolish human history and add a

chapter to natural history instead. Here, too, he follows Carlyle, but

in a way which is highly to his credit. The enthusiasm for science which

marks these later centuries breeds in many minds a powerful desire to

establish "laws" for the history of man,--that is, to establish for

man's history an invariable programme. To this end an effort is made to

render all results in history dependent on a few simple and tangible

conditions. The intrepid prosaic logic of Spencer, the discursive

boldness of Buckle, the rigid dogmatism of Draper are all engaged in

this endeavor. But, while eager to make history simple and orderly, they

forget to make it human. There is an order and progress, perhaps, but an

order and progress of what? Of _men_? Of human souls, self-moved? No, of

sticks floating on a current, of straws blown by the wind! Men,

according to this theory, are but ninepins in an alley which Nature sets

up only to bowl them down again; and what avails it, if Nature makes

improvement and learns to set them up better and better? The triumphs

are hers, not theirs. They are but ninepins, after all. Progress? Yes,

indeed; but _wooden_ progress, observe.

Mr. Kingsley recognizes human beings, and recognizes them

heartily,--loves, hates, admires, despises; in fine, he deals with

history not merely as a scientist or theorist, but first of all as a

man. There are those who will think this weak. They are superior to this

partiality of man for himself, they! They would be ashamed not to sink

the man in the _savant_. But Mr. Kingsley refuses to dehumanize himself

in order to become historian and philosopher. He does well.

Again, it is partly Mr. Kingsley's merit, and partly it expresses his

limitation, that he is treating history more distinctively as a

moralizer than any other noted writer of the time. He assumes in this

respect the Hebraistic point of view, and looks out from it with an

undoubting heartiness which in these days is really refreshing. He

believes in the Old Testament, and doubts not that riches and honors are

the rewards of right-doing. And in this, too, there is a vast deal of

truth; and it is truly delightful to find one who affirms it, not with

perfunctory drawl, but with hearty human zest, a little red in the face.

It adds to the color of Mr. Kingsley's pages, while detracting from his

authority, that he is always and inevitably a _partisan_. He must have

somebody to cry up and somebody to cry down. In "Sir Amyas Leigh," his

hatred of the Spanish and admiration of the English were like those of a

man who had suffered intolerable wrongs from the one and received

invaluable rescue from the other. The same element appears powerfully in

the volume above named. The Teuton stands for all that is best, and the

Roman for all that is worst in humanity. He makes no secret, indeed, of

his deliberate belief that the whole future of the human race depends

upon the Teutonic family. Deliberate, we say; but in truth Mr. Kingsley

is little capable of believing anything deliberately. He is always

precipitate. His opinions have the force which can be given them by warm

espousal, vivid expression, a certain desire to be fair, and a constant

appeal to the moral nature of man; but the impression of hasty and

heated partisanship goes with them always, and two words from a broad

and balanced judgment might overturn many a chapter of this red-hot

advocacy.

The present volume derives an interest for Americans from its relation

to our great contest. Mr. Kingsley has been represented as intensely

hostile to the North, and as using all his endeavor to infect his

pupils with his opinions. These lectures, however, hardly sustain such

representations. He is, indeed, anti-democratic in a high degree. He is

so as a disciple of Carlyle, as a prosperous Englishman, not destitute

of flunkyism, and also as a man whose very best power is that of

passionately admiring individual greatness. He is a believer in natural

aristocracy, in the British nobility, and in Carlyle; and democracy

could, of course, find small place in his creed. Hence he has a

sentimental sympathy with the South, and once in a foot-note speaks of

"the Southern gentleman" in a maudlin way. There is also another passage

in which he makes the South stand for the Teuton, whom he worships, and

the North for the Roman, whom he abhors. Yet this very passage occurs in

connection with a denunciation of deserved doom upon the Southern

Confederacy. He had been describing the last great battle of the Eastern

Goths, after which they literally disappeared from history. And the

reason of their defeat and destruction, he avers, was simply this, that

they were a slaveholding aristocracy. As such they _must_ perish; the

earth, he declares, will not and cannot afford them a dwelling-place.

Indeed, he repeatedly lays it down as a law of history that slaveholding

aristocracies must go down before the progress of the world, and must go

down in blood.

_The Small House at Allington_. By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. New York: Harper &

Brothers.

This is probably the best of Mr. Trollope's numerous works. It is by no

means different in kind from its predecessors; for it stands in the path

struck out by "The Warden" ten years ago. But it is better, inasmuch as

it is later; that is, it is by ten years better than "The Warden," and

by four years better than "Framley Parsonage." Mr. Trollope's course has

been very even,--too even, almost, to be called brilliant; for success

has become almost monotonous with him. His first novel was a triumph,

after its kind; and a list of his subsequent works would be but a record

of repeated triumphs. He has closely adhered to the method which he

found so serviceable at first; and although it is not for the general

critic to say whether he has felt temptations to turn aside, we may be

sure, in view of his unbroken popularity, that he has either been very

happy or very wise. His works, as they stand, are probably the exact

measure of his strength.

We do not mean that he has exhausted his strength. It seems to be the

prime quality of such a genius as Mr. Trollope's that it is exempt from

accident,--that it accumulates, rather than loses force with age. Mr.

Trollope's work is simple observation. He is secure, therefore, as long

as he retains this faculty. And his observation is the more efficient

that it is hampered by no concomitant purpose, rooted to no underlying

beliefs or desires. It is firmly anchored, but above-ground. We have

often heard Mr. Trollope compared with Thackeray,--but never without

resenting the comparison. In no point are they more dissimilar than in

the above. Thackeray is a moralist, a satirist; he tells his story for

its lesson: whereas Mr. Trollope tells his story wholly for its own

sake. Thackeray is almost as much a preacher as he is a novelist; while

Mr. Trollope is the latter simply. Both writers are humorists, which

seems to be the inevitable mood of all shrewd observers; and both

incline to what is called quiet humor. But we know that there are many

kinds of laughter. Think of the different kinds of humorists we find in

Shakspeare's comedies. Mr. Trollope's merriment is evoked wholly by the

actual presence of an oddity; and Thackeray's, although it be, by the

way, abundantly sympathetic with superficial comedy, by its _existence_,

by its history, by some shadow it casts. Of course all humorists have an

immense common fund. When Cradell, in the present tale, talks about Mrs.

Lupex's fine _torso_, we are reminded both of Thackeray and Dickens. But

when the Squire, coming down to the Small House to discuss his niece's

marriage, just avoids a quarrel with his sister about the propriety of

early fires, we acknowledge, that, as it stands, the trait belongs to

Trollope alone. Dickens would have eschewed it, and Thackeray would have

expanded it. The same remark applies to their pathos. With Trollope we

weep, if it so happen we can, for a given shame or wrong. Our sympathy

in the work before us is for the jilted Lily Dale, our indignation for

her false lover. But our compassion for Amelia Osborne and Colonel

Newcome goes to the whole race of the oppressed.

Mr. Trollope's greatest value we take to be that he is so purely a

novelist. The chief requisite for writing a novel in the present age

seems to be that the writer should be everything else. It implies that

the story-telling gift is very well in its way, but that the inner

substance of a tale must repose on some direct professional experience.

This fashion is of very recent date. Formerly the novelist had no

personality; he was a simple chronicler; his accidental stand-point was

as impertinent as the painter's attitude before his canvas. But now the

main question lies in the pose, not of the model, but of the artist. It

will fare ill with the second-rate writer of fiction, unless he can give

conclusive proof that he is well qualified in certain practical

functions. And the public is very vigilant on this point. It has become

wonderfully acute in discriminating true and false lore. The critic's

office is gradually reduced to a search for inaccuracies. We do not stop

to weigh these truths; we merely indicate them. But we confess, that, if

Mr. Trollope is somewhat dear to us, it is because they are not true of

him. The central purpose of a work of fiction is assuredly the portrayal

of human passions. To this principle Mr. Trollope steadfastly

adheres,--how consciously, how wilfully, we know not,--but with a

constancy which is almost a proof of conviction, and a degree of success

which lends great force to his example. The interest of the work before

us is emphatically a _moral_ interest: it is a story of feeling, the

narrative of certain feelings.

Mr. Troliope's tales give us a very sound sense of their reality. It may

seem paradoxical to attribute this to the narrowness of the author's

imagination; but we cannot help doing so. On reflection, we shall see

that it is not so much persons as events that Mr. Trollope aims at

depicting, not so much characters as scenes. His pictures are real, _on

the whole_. Their reality, we take it, is owing to the happy balance of

the writer's judgment and his invention. Had his invention been a little

more tinged with fancy, it is probable that he would have known certain

temptations of which he appears to be ignorant. Even should he have

successfully resisted them, the struggle, the contest, the necessity of

choice would have robbed his manner of that easy self-sufficiency which

is one of its greatest charms. Had he succumbed, he would often have

fallen away from sober fidelity to Nature. As the matter stands, his

great felicity is that he never goes beyond his depth,--and this, not so

much from fear, as from ignorance. His insight is anything but profound.

He has no suspicion of deeper waters. Through the whole course of the

present story, he never attempts to fathom Crosbie's feelings, to

retrace his motives, to refine upon his character. Mr. Trollope has

learned much in what is called the realist school; but he has not taken

lessons in psychology. Even while looking into Crosbie's heart, we never

lose sight of Courcy Castle, of his Club, of his London life; we cross

the threshold of his inner being, we knock at the door of his soul, but

we remain within call of Lily Dale and the Lady Alexandrina. We never

see Crosbie the man, but always Crosbie the gentleman, the Government

clerk. We feel at times as if we had a right to know him better,--to

know him at least as well as he knew himself. It is significant of Mr.

Trollope's temperament--a temperament, as it seems to us, eminently

English--that he can have told such a story with so little preoccupation

with certain spiritual questions. It is evident that this spiritual

reticence, if we may so term it, is not a _parti pris_; for no fixed

principle, save perhaps the one hinted at above, is apparent in the

book. It belongs to a species of single-sightedness, by which Mr.

Trollope, in common with his countrymen, is largely characterized,--an

indifference to secondary considerations, an abstinence from sidelong

glances. It is akin to an intense literalness of perception, of which we

might find an example on every page Mr. Trollope has written. He is

conscious of seeing the surface of things so clearly, perhaps, that he

deems himself exempt from all profounder obligations. To describe

accurately what he sees is a point of conscience with him. In these

matters an omission is almost a crime. We remember an instance somewhat

to the purpose. After describing Mrs. Dale's tea-party at length, in the

beginning of the book, he wanders off with Crosbie and his sweetheart

on a moonlight-stroll, and so interests us in the feelings of the young

couple, and in Crosbie's plans and promises for the future, (which we

begin faintly to foresee,) that we have forgotten all about the party.

And, indeed, how could the story of the party end better than by gently

passing out of the reader's mind, superseded by a stronger interest, to

which it is merely accessory? But such is not the author's view of the

case. Dropping Crosbie, Lilian, and the more serious objects of our

recent concern, he begins a new line and ends his chapter thus:--"After

that they all went to bed." It recalls the manner of "Harry and Lucy,"

friends of our childhood.

But to return to our starting-point,--in "The Small House at Allington"

Mr. Trollope has outdone his previous efforts. He has used his best

gifts in unwonted fulness. Never before has he described young ladies

and the loves of young ladies in so charming and so natural a fashion.

Never before has he reproduced so faithfully--to say no more--certain

phases of the life and conversation of the youth of the other sex. Never

before has he caught so accurately the speech of our daily feelings,

plots, and passions. He has a habit of writing which is almost a style;

its principal charm is a certain tendency to quaintness; its principal

defect is an excess of words. But we suspect this manner makes easy

writing; in Mr. Trollope's books it certainly makes very easy reading.

_A Class-Book of Chemistry_; in which the Latest Facts and Principles of

the Science are explained and applied to the Arts of Life and the

Phenomena of Nature. A New Edition, entirely rewritten. By EDWARD L.

YOUMANS, M.D. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

Though Science has been often vaguely supposed to be something generally

distinct from ordinary knowledge, yet the slightest consideration will

suffice to show us that this is not the case. Scientific knowledge is

only a highly developed form of the common information of ordinary

minds. The specific attribute by which it is distinguished from the

latter is quantitative prevision. Mere prevision is not peculiar to

science. When the school-boy throws a stone into the air, he can predict

its fall as certainly as the astronomer can predict the recurrence of an

eclipse; but his prevision, though certain, is rude and indefinite:

though he can foretell the kind of effect which will follow the given

mechanical impulse, yet the quantity of effect--the height to which the

stone will ascend, and the rapidity with which it will fall--is

something utterly beyond his ken. The servant-girl has no need of

chemistry to teach her, that, when the match is applied, the fire will

burn and smoke ascend the chimney; but she is far from being able to

predict the proportional weights of oxygen and carbon which will unite,

the volume of the gases which are to be given off, or the intensity of

the radiation which is to warm the room: her prevision is qualitative,

not quantitative, in its character. But when Galileo discovers the

increment of the velocity of falling bodies, and when Dalton and De

Morveau discover the exact proportions in which chemical union takes

place, it is evident that knowledge has advanced from a rudely

qualitative to an accurately quantitative stage; and it does not admit

of dispute that the progress of science is thus a progress from the

indefinite to the definite.

From the point of view here taken it would appear that during the

present century no science has made such rapid and unprecedented strides

as Chemistry; and its progress becomes all the more striking, when we

consider the state of the science previous to the French Revolution. For

centuries nothing had been done in it whatever. Besides the commonest

previsions of every-day life, the ancients knew scarcely anything either

of chemistry or physics, except that amber possessed attractive

properties. The discovery of the strong acids by the Arabs Giafar and

Rhazes, and of phosphorus by Bechil, are almost the only landmarks in

the history of the science, until the discovery of oxygen and the

destruction of the phlogistic theory by Priestley and Lavoisier,

together with the introduction of the balance and the thermometer into

the laboratory, rendered quantitative experiments possible. Since then

its progress has been unexampled. The law of definite proportions, not

long since disputed or unwillingly accepted, has been proved to hold

even among organic compounds. A nomenclature has been invented and

perfected, such as no other science can boast of, whether we consider

the extent to which it facilitates practical operations, or its logical

value as a means of mental discipline. Chemistry has also interacted

with the different branches of physics, giving us the voltaic battery,

the telegraph, and the wonderful results of spectrum-analysis. On the

other hand, it has analyzed the proximate constituents of animal and

vegetal structures, and has even gone far toward determining some of the

conditions of organic existence; while every one of the arts, whether

æsthetic, therapeutic, or industrial, has received from it many and

important suggestions.

In a science which advances so rapidly there is great need of popular

books which shall clearly and succinctly present the very latest results

of investigation, without burdening the reader with technical details.

For some time there has been no such work in this country. To ascertain

the newest discoveries, it has been necessary to consult the journals

and memoirs of learned societies, the excellent works of Professor

Miller being too cumbrous to be of much service either to the

unscientific reader or to the general scholar. On the other hand, the

text-books in common use have been positively detestable. The

information furnished by many of them is worse than ignorance. We are

tired of works on chemical physics which discourse of "calorie" and "the

electric fluid,"--of works on organic chemistry which ascribe the

phenomena of life to "a vital principle which overrides chemical laws."

A book at once clear, concise, and modern has long been the great

desideratum.

This need is most amply supplied by the recent work of Dr. Youmans.

Laying no claim to the character of an exposition of original

discoveries, and thus keeping aloof from involved discussion, it is at

the same time so lucid in its statements, so pertinent in its

illustrations, and so philosophic in its reflections, as to invest with

a new charm every subject of which it treats. The author deserves high

praise for taking into account the circumstance that the reading public

is not entirely composed of physicists and chemists. It has been too

much the fashion for writers on scientific subjects to give definitions

which can be rendered intelligible only by an intimate acquaintance with

the very matters defined. It would be tedious to enumerate the countless

absurd explanations given in elementary text-books of the phenomena of

interference, polarization, and double refraction,--explanations as

enigmatical as the inscriptions at Memphis and Karnak,--explanations

useless to the optician because needless, and to the student because

obscure. It would seem that subjects so simple and beautiful as these

could not be rendered difficult of comprehension, except by the most

awkward treatment; and yet we know of no work previous to that of Dr.

Youmans which does not utterly fail to give the general scientific

reader any idea whatever of their nature and theory. Here, however, they

are explained with clearness and elegance, and their bearing on the

undulatory theory of light is distinctly shown. As other instances of

most admirable exposition, we may call attention to the paragraphs on

crystallization, on the atomic theory, on isomerism and allotropism, on

diamagnetism, magnetic induction, and electric "currents," on the

sources of heat, on the chemical and thermal spectra, on the correlation

and equivalence of the forces, on the theory of ozone, on the

exceptional expansion of water and the supposed complexity of its atom,

on the structure of flame, on the constitution of salts, on the colloid

condition of matter, on types and compound radicles, on the dynamics of

vegetable growth and the production of animal power, and, above all, to

the passage which describes the phenomena of latent heat. Throughout, in

treating of these subjects, the author's felicity of exposition never

fails him. The most difficult phenomena are rendered perfectly easy of

comprehension, and their mutual relations are not left out of account.

Each set of facts is treated, not as forming an isolated body of truth,

but as an integral portion of the complex and logically indivisible

universe. In this respect Dr. Youmans's work is far superior to the

recent production of Dr. Hooker, in which, for example, the mere

existence of such a doctrine as that of the correlation of forces is

grudgingly noticed, and its ultimate significance entirely overlooked.

Far different is Dr. Youmans's treatment of the same doctrine. Indeed,

we think that the chapters on chemical physics form the most

interesting portion of his work, and their value consists chiefly in the

constant reference to the modern ideas of force which pervades them. In

a work intended for the education of youth, such a feature cannot be too

highly praised. It is time that the old material superstitions about

force were eradicated from men's minds, and as far as possible from

their language. It is already more than half a century since Count

Rumford demonstrated the immaterial nature of heat, and Young

established the undulatory theory of light,--ideas which had germinated

two hundred years ago in the lofty minds of Huygens and Hooke. Since

then have been discovered the polarization and interference of heat, the

triple constitution of the solar ray, the identity of magnetism and

electricity, the polar nature of chemical affinity, the optical

polarities of crystals, and the interaction of magnetism and light.

Since then the once meagre and fragmentary science of physics has become

one of the grandest and richest departments of human thought; and the

illustrious names of Helmholtz, Joule, and Mayer, of Grove, Faraday, and

Tyndall, may be fitly named beside those of the leading thinkers of past

ages. The physical forces are no longer to be looked upon as inscrutable

material entities,--forms of matter imponderable, and therefore

inconceivable; but they have been shown to be diverse, but

interchangeable modes of molecular motion, omnipresent, ceaselessly

active. The wondrous phenomena of light, heat, and electricity are seen

to be due to the rhythmical vibration of atoms. There is thus no such

thing as rest: from the planet to the ultimate particle, all things are

endlessly moving: and the mystic song of the Earth-Spirit in "Faust" is

recognized as the expression of the sublimest truth of science:--

"In Lebensfluthen, im Thatensturm,

Wall' ich auf und ab, webe hin und her,

Geburt und Grab,

Ein ewiges Meer,

Ein wechselnd Weben,

Ein glühend Leben,

So schaff' ich am sausenden Webstuhl der Zeit,

Und wirke der Gottheit lebendiges Kleid."

In a discussion containing so much that is noble, however, we are sorry

to observe that Dr. Youmans is betrayed into using the current

expressions concerning an "ether" which is supposed to be the universal

vehicle for the transmission of molecular vibrations. We are told, that,

while "the vibrations of a sonorous body produce undulations in the

air," on the other hand, "the vibrations of atoms in a flame produce

undulations in the ether." We would by no means charge Dr. Youmans with

all the consequences naturally deducible from such a statement. We

believe that he uses the term "ether" simply to render himself more

intelligible to those who have been wont to make use of it to facilitate

their thinking. Such an object is highly praiseworthy, and is too often

left out of sight by those who write elementary works. But the good

service thus rendered is far more than counterbalanced by the host of

erroneous conceptions which at once arise at the introduction of this

luckless term. This notion of an "imaginary ether" should be at once and

forever discarded by every writer on physics. The very word should be

remorselessly expunged from every discussion of the subject. It is one

of the most baneful words in the whole dictionary of scientific

terminology. It stands for a fiction as useless as it is without

foundation. It is useless because superfluous, and not needed in order

to account for the phenomena. An ether is no more necessary in the case

of light than it is in the case of sound. Thermal vibrations are the

oscillations of atoms, not the undulations of an ether. If it be urged

that rays of light and heat will traverse a vacuum, we reply, that the

much-derided aphorism, "Nature abhors a vacuum," is as true at this day

as it was before Torricelli's experiment. A perfect vacuum has never

been produced; and if it were to be produced, the ether must be

excluded, else it would be no vacuum, after all. For, if there were such

a thing as an ether, it must of course be some form of matter; nobody

ever claimed for it the character of motion or force. If it be

considered as matter, then, we are confronted with new difficulties; for

all matter must exert gravitation. Weight is our sole test of the very

existence of matter; it is the balance which has proved that nothing

ever disappears. Imponderable matter is no more possible than a

triangular ellipse. Away, then, with such a mischief-breeding

conception! Let this last-surviving fetich be ousted from the fair

temple of inorganic science. Undulations have been measured and counted;

quantitative relations, like those expressed in Joule's law, have been

established between them; but an "ether" has never yet been the object

of human ken.

We have expressed ourselves thus emphatically upon this all-important

point, in order to warn the reader of Dr. Youmans's book against drawing

conclusions which the author himself evidently does not mean to convey.

No clear ideas can ever be entertained in physics until this anomalous

"ether" is excommunicated; and therefore we wish it had been banished

from this excellent treatise. We differ also very widely from the

author's views of animal heat, but have not space to enter upon the

discussion. With these exceptions we know of nothing in the work that

could be improved. It is an honor to American science, and fully merits

a more exhaustive examination than we have here been enabled to bestow

upon it.

_Strategy and Tactics_. By General G.H. DUFOUR, lately an Officer of the

French Engineer Corps, Graduate of the Polytechnic School, and Commander

of the Legion of Honor; Chief of Staff of the Swiss Army. Translated

from the latest French Edition, by WILLIAM R. CRAIGHILL, Captain U.S.

Engineers, lately Assistant Professor of Civil and Military Engineering

and Science of War at the U.S. Military Academy. New York: D. Van

Nostrand.

The author of this work is a distinguished civil and military engineer

and practical soldier, who, in all military matters, is recognized as

one of the first authorities in Europe. His history is especially

interesting to Americans, since not many years ago he played a prominent

part in the suppression of a rebellion which, in many features,

exhibited a remarkable similarity to the one with which our own

Government is contending. We refer to the secession of the seven Swiss

cantons forming the Sonderbund, which, like the insurrection of the

Southern States, was a revolt of reactionary against liberal principles

of government; it was likewise the fruit of a well-organized and

long-matured conspiracy, which only delayed an open outbreak until all

its preparations were adequately perfected for a formidable resistance.

The issue of the contest was what we may hope will be that of our

own,--the triumph of free principles, and the complete reëstablishment

of the authority of the legitimate Government on a firmer basis than it

had before occupied.

General Dufour was born at Constance, of a family of Genevese origin.

Having acquired his early education at Geneva, where he devoted his

attention chiefly to mathematics, he entered the Polytechnic School at

Paris, was commissioned two years afterwards in the corps of Engineers,

and served in the later campaigns of Napoleon, where he rose to the rank

of captain. He afterwards entered the Swiss Federal service, in which he

became colonel, chief of the general staff, and quartermaster-general.

At later periods he has held the less active, but equally responsible

and honorable positions of superintendent of the triangulation of

Switzerland on which the topographical map of the country is based, and

chief instructor of engineering in the principal military school of the

Republic, at Thun.

When, in 1847, the Swiss Diet determined to dissolve the Sonderbund,

which had at length committed the overt act of treason, General Dufour

was appointed commander-in-chief of the Federal army. A few days after

the call for troops was issued, he found himself at the head of an army

of one hundred thousand men, and immediately entered actively upon the

work before him. His dispositions were skilful and his movements rapid.

He adopted with success the "anaconda" system of strategy, and hemmed in

the insurgents at every point, closing in the mountain-passes, and

completely isolating them. After six days of active campaigning the

Canton of Freyburg was subdued; nine days afterwards Luzerne submitted;

the other rebellious cantons were quick to yield; and in eighteen days

from the commencement of active operations, and twenty-three days from

the issue by the Federal Diet of the decree of coercion, the rebellion

was extinguished so completely that no murmur of treason has since been

heard in the Republic. So rapidly was the whole accomplished, that

foreign powers had not time to intervene; and it is said, that, when the

French messenger went to seek the insurgents with his proposals, they

were already fugitives. In honor of his services in this contest, the

Federal Diet voted General Dufour a sabre of honor and a donative of

forty thousand francs.

General Dufour's "Strategy and Tactics" is evidently the fruit of an

attentive study of the best examples and authorities of all ages. He has

avoided mere theories and fine writing, and has aimed to present a work

practical in its treatment and application. The lessons of history have

been his guide; his precepts are fortified by pertinent examples from

the campaigns of the best generals, and we may study them with

confidence that when put to the actual test they will not fail.

The distinction between strategy and tactics, not always clearly

understood, is in substance drawn thus by General Dufour. Strategy

involves general movements and the general arrangement of campaigns,

depending chiefly upon the topographical features of the country which

is the scene of operations,--while tactics relate to the minor details

of campaigns, as the disposition for marches and battles, the

arrangement of camps, etc. Strategy depends upon circumstances fixed in

their nature, and is the same always and everywhere; but tactics must be

modified to suit degree of skill, arms, and manner of fighting of the

combatants. Hence, "much instruction in strategy may be derived from the

study of history; but very grave errors will result, if we attempt to

apply in the armies of the present day the tactics of the ancients. This

fault has been committed by more than one man of merit, for want of

reflection upon the great difference between our missile weapons and

those of the ancients, and upon the resulting differences in the

arrangement of troops for combat." Our own military leaders have not

entirely avoided mistakes of this kind in the conduct of the present

war.

The treatise before us elucidates the general principles of strategy and

tactics, and applies them to the different classes of field--operations,

without entering into details, or describing the minor manoeuvres,

which belong more appropriately to another class of works.

The first chapter treats of bases and lines of operations, strategic

points, plans of offensive and defensive campaigns, and strategical

operations. Under the last head are embraced forward movements and

retreats, diversions, (combined movements and detachments,) the pursuit

of a defeated enemy, and the holding of a conquered country. The great

lesson of the chapter, prominent in almost every paragraph, is the

necessity of _concentration_. Divergent marches, scattering of forces,

unless ample facilities are secured for a speedy rally, when necessary,

to a common point, are among the most fruitful sources of disaster.

The organization of armies next receives attention. The explanation of

the composition of the army, its divisions and subdivisions, and the

adjustment of the relative proportions of the different classes of

troops, is brief and lucid. In the article on the formation of troops

the relative merits of formation in two ranks or three are discussed at

length.

Under the head of marches and manoeuvres are considered the rules by

which these movements should be conducted. These apply to the adjustment

of the columns, and the division, when necessary, of the forces upon

different roads in order to facilitate progress and make subsistence

more easy, the detailing of scouts and advance and rear guards, etc. The

adaptation of these rules to forward movements and battles leads to a

description of the order of march of the division, the precautions to be

observed in the passage of defiles, bridges, woods, and rivers, and when

the column has arrived in the presence of the enemy, and the conduct of

flank marches, marches in retreat, and the simultaneous movement of

several columns. The importance of precautions against surprise, of

preserving the mobility of the columns, and of providing for

concentration on short notice whenever it may be necessary, is not lost

sight of, but is dwelt upon with great frequency. But military rules are

not more inflexible than other human rules. Though they are based upon

fixed principles, cases may, and do, arise when they cannot be strictly

adhered to,--sometimes when they ought not to be. When should they be

strictly observed? When and how far is it prudent to depart from them?

"These questions," says General Dufour, "admit of no answers.

Circumstances, which are always different, must decide in each

particular case that arises. Here is the place for a general to show his

ability. The military art would not be so difficult in practice, and

those who have become so distinguished in it would not have acquired

their renown, had it been a thing of invariable rules. To be really a

great general, a man must have great tact and discernment in order to

adopt the best plan in each case as it presents itself; he must have a

ready _coup d'oeil_, so as to do the right thing at the right time and

place; for what is excellent one day may be very injurious the next. The

plans of a great captain seem like inspirations, so rapid are the

operations of the mind from which they proceed: notwithstanding this,

everything is taken into account and weighed; each circumstance is

appreciated and properly estimated; objects which escape entirely the

observation of ordinary minds may to him seem so important as to become

the principal means of inducing him to pursue a particular course. As a

necessary consequence, a deliberative council is a poor director of the

operations of a campaign. As another consequence, no mere theorizer can

be a great general."

Battles, on which the fortune of the campaign must turn at last, receive

a large share of attention. The decision of the question as to when they

shall be fought, though sometimes admitting of no choice, is more often,

with a skilful general, a matter of pure calculation, depending upon

fixed principles, which General Dufour recites in a few brief, but

suggestive sentences. His directions for the disposition and manoeuvres

of the forces in both offensive and defensive battles are quite

complete, though the thousand varying circumstances by which these may

be modified, and which render it impossible for one battle to be a copy

of another, can only be hinted at. Among the elements of a battle here

considered are the disposition of the forces, the manner of bringing on

and conducting the engagement, the manoeuvres to change position on

the field, bringing on reinforcements, seizing all advantages that may

offer, and the manner of conducting pursuit or retreat. The attack and

defence of mountains and rivers, of redoubts, houses, and villages,

covering a siege, infantry, cavalry, and artillery combats and

reconnoissances, each involve special principles, and are treated

separately. In the course of the article on battles, some general

observations are introduced on conducting manoeuvres so as to insure

promptness, security, and precision. The conduct of topographical

reconnoissances is well explained by means of a map of a supposed

district of country, with marked features, which is to be examined. On

this the course of the reconnoitring party, as it goes over the whole,

is traced step by step, and fully explained in the letter-press. In the

concluding chapter the author treats of convoys, ambuscades, advance

posts, the laying-out of camps, and giving rest to troops.

Such are the outlines of a subject which General Dufour has handled in a

masterly manner. His maxims are practical in their bearing, they commend

themselves to our common sense as sound in principle, and are such as

have received the indorsement of the best authorities. His style is

clear and comprehensive; nothing superfluous is inserted, nothing need

be added to make the subject more clear. The illustrations, which are

given wherever they are needed, are simple and clear; the explanations

are sufficient. This work will be a valuable manual to soldiers, and

students will find it an excellent text-book. We hail it as an important

addition to our growing military literature.

_Man and Nature; or, Physical Geography as modified by Human Action_. By

GEORGE P. MARSH. New York: Charles Scribner. 8vo. pp. 560.

The student of Physical Geography must not expect to find in this

massive book a systematic exposition of the science in the manner of

Guyot and the French and German geographers; nor must he expect to see

worked out on its pages the elaborate application of Geography to

History, such as one day will be done, and such as was attempted, though

with results of varied value and certainty, by the eloquent and

plausible Buckle; but he will find an unexpected development of man's

dominion over the world he inhabits. Mr. Marsh takes his readers very

much by surprise; for few are aware, we apprehend, that in the course of

his wandering life, and while prosecuting his eminent philological

studies, he has made leisure enough to survey the natural sciences with

critical exactness, pursue an extended course of inquiry into physical

phenomena, note and digest the results of Italian, Spanish, English,

French, German, Dutch, and American naturalists, ply every guide and

ploughman, every driver and forester, every fisherman and miner, every

lumberman and carpenter, for the results which men attain by observing

within the narrow circle of their occupation,--and weave all into a

copious work which subordinates all results to a grand psychological

law, the mastery of man's mind over the world it calls its home.

The work which we are noticing aspires to and rightly claims a foremost

place among the literary productions of America, despite a certain

homely flavor and a certain unpretending way which its author has of

saying things which are really great and fine. The main thought

illustrated is not new, but it is brought out so forcibly, and

illustrated by such encyclopedic learning, that it has the power of

novelty. Mr. Marsh shows, as many before him have done, that man is now

using the organic and inorganic forms of the earth in a manner so

subsidiary to the might of his intellect and his will, that such

obstacles as mountains and seas, which used to impede him hopelessly,

now are his auxiliaries; but he does more than this: he demonstrates the

destructive and annihilating sway of man over the world in the past and

in the present; and, proceeding from the historic fact that the

countries which in the palmy days of the Roman Empire were the granary

and the wine-cellar of the world have been given over by the improvident

destructiveness of man to desolation and desert, he enters into a

thorough study of the fact, that, no sooner does man recede from the

barbaric state than he commences a career of destructiveness, cutting

off, in a manner reckless and criminally wasteful, forests, the lives of

quadrupeds, birds, insects, and in short every living thing excepting

the few domestic animals which follow him and serve him for

companionship or for food. Mr. Marsh shows, with more than prophetic

insight, with the mathematical logic of facts, that, unless

compensations far more general and adequate than have yet been devised

are provided, the destructive propensities of civilized man will convert

the world into a waste. Some of our readers have paused thoughtfully

over that chapter in "Les Misérables" which deals so grimly with the

sewerage of cities, and details with the faithfulness of an historian

the exhausting demands of those conduits which carry untold millions to

the sea, and waste that aliment of impoverished soils which not all the

science of the age has found it possible to restore; but Mr. Marsh, not

drawing single pictures with so strong lines, spreads a broader canvas,

and compels his reader to equal thoughtfulness. To quote but one

instance is enough. We have in America thus far escaped, and as

singularly as fortunately, the importation of the wheat-midge which has

been the scourge of the grain-fields of Europe: it will, doubtless, some

time be a passenger on our Atlantic ships or steamers; it will commence

its work; and then man has the task of importing its natural

antagonists, of promoting their spread, and so of compensating the evil.

The work which we are noticing abundantly shows, that, if man were not

in the world, the natural compensations which the Divine Being has

introduced would produce perfect harmony in all things; that man, from

his first stroke at a tree, his first slaying of a beast or bird,

introduces an element of disorder which he can compensate only after

civilization has reached a height of which we yet know nothing, and of

which our present civilization gives us but the suggestion.

To those who may not care to master the philosophy of "Man and Nature,"

the book presents great attractions in the fund of new and entertaining

knowledge given in the text, and yet more largely in the foot-notes.

Many have waded through Mr. Buckle's two volumes a second time for the

purpose of gleaning his facts and gathering up in the easiest way the

latest word in science and literature. Mr. Marsh spreads a homelier

table, but one just as varied and hearty. Never in the course of our

miscellaneous reading have we met an equal store of fresh facts. As

hinted above, they are gathered from every source: the experience of the

maple-sugar maker in Vermont is quoted side by side with the testimony

of the European scholar. The reader will be amazed that there are so

many common things in the world of which he has never heard, and that

they have so large and fruitful an influence over the world's progress.

If there are striking faults in Mr. Marsh's work, they seem to be these:

want of continuity in treatment, and disproportionate development of

some subjects in contrast with others. The book is, in fact, too large

for a popular treatise, and not large enough for a scientific exposition

of all it essays to discuss. It claims to be a popular work; but the

elaborate discussion of Forests is far beyond the wishes or needs of any

but a scientific reader. The broken, jagged, paragraph style is a

drawback to the pleasure of perusing it: the notion seems to impress the

author that people will not read anything elaborate, unless it be broken

up into labelled paragraphs. It is true of the newspaper: it is not true

of the octavo, to which they sit down expecting a different mode of

treatment, a broad, discursive style, flowing, redundant, and even

eloquent. Yet Mr. Marsh has in some instances transgressed, we think,

even in fulness: the great prominence given, for example, to the

drainage of Holland is untrue to the general tenor of the book and to

the prospective future of the world. It was a great historic deed, when

the relations of man to Nature were quite other than what they are

to-day; but now that man is master of the sea, regulates the price of

bread in London by the price of corn in Illinois, and of broadcloth in

Paris by the cost of wool in Australia, the recovery of a few hundred

thousand acres from the bottom of the North Sea is a great thing for

Holland, but a small thing for the world.

Yet we accept this book with grateful thanks to the accomplished author.

In the present transition-stage from metaphysical to physical studies,

it will be eagerly accepted, as showing, not openly nor yet covertly,

yet suggestively, the true connection of both. Few books give in quiet,

modest fashion so much theology as this, and yet few claim to give so

little. Few bear more strongly on the mooted points of Anthropology; few

strike so strong a blow at that Development-theory which makes man

merely king of the beasts, and superior to the ape and the gorilla only

in degree; and yet few proceed in such high argument with less

ostentation. This book leaves one great want unfulfilled: to take up the

mantle of Ritter and proceed carefully to the study of French, German,

Russian, English, Spanish, and Italian history, and indeed all great

nations' history, by the light of geography. The problem is stated; it

has now only to be wrought out. Perhaps Mr. Marsh, whose acquisitions

seem to be boundless, and whose powers unlimited, may live to win fresh

laurels on this field.

* * * * *

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FOOTNOTES:

[A] I was once trying to convince an eminent prelate--one of the most

learned and liberal of his order, and even then close to the red hat--of

the importance of admitting laymen to certain State functions. "All

right," said he, "from your point of view; but still I shall oppose it

always, tooth and nail; for, if they come in, we must go out."

[B] Dr. Lieber, in his "Reminiscences of Niebuhr,"--a delightful book of

a delightful class,--records the great historian's testimony in favor of

Italian Latin.

[C] This is a metrical version of the following passage of the

"Scaligeriana":--"Les Allemans ne se soucient pas quel vin ils boivent

pourvu que ce soit vin, ni quel Latin ils parlent pourvu que ce soit

Latin."

[D] Need we say that this gentleman is a member of the French Academy, a

librarian of the Mazarin Library, and the well-known author of

"Mademoiselle de la Seiglière," "La Maison de Penarvan," "Sacs et

Parchemins," etc.?