The translator adds:--

"It is not however true, that the English method of itself,

injures the quality of iron,--experience has proved the

contrary: it appears that soft irons lose their harshness in

this operation, and become better for many uses."

It may therefore be inferred, that, when the English method is applied

to pig iron, that would produce a good wrought metal by the process with

charcoal, it will produce one that is equally good by means of coal, but

that the latter is capable of hiding the apparent defects of even the

worst iron.

The inferiority of the puddled iron is well understood in England, and

therefore when it is to be used for chain cables and anchors, it is

again heated, and rolled a third time, its price will be then raised to

10_l._ 10_s._ Another quality still superior, is made by uniting scraps

of the better qualities that we have mentioned, into loups in the

puddling furnace, drawing it in the puddle rolls, balling or piling, and

again rolling. Its cost will thus be raised to 12_l._ Even this is yet

inferior to Swedes and Russia iron, which sell in the English market

from 13_l._ to 15_l._ sterling per ton. For particular purposes in the

fabrication of machinery, charcoal is still used in England, in

manufacturing a very small quantity of iron, but of very superior

quality; this, we have recently understood from good authority, is sold

as high as 22_l._ per ton.

Thus it appears that the manufactories of England produce five different

descriptions of wrought iron, four of which bear a lower price, and are

therefore inferior in quality to those of Sweden and Russia, and,

consequently, to the best American iron. No more than one of these, and

that the lowest in quality, is usually shipped to this country, and it

was the influx of this cheap and almost worthless material, which in

1816 and '17, completely prostrated the American manufacture. Under a

protecting duty, it has again revived, but has not reached its former

level. New capital has been invested in it under this protection, and it

would be a breach of faith suddenly to withdraw it. Still sound policy

would dictate that this protection should not be perpetual, provided it

can be incontestably proved that it bears so hard upon other branches of

industry, as to injure the country through them to a greater extent,

than the benefit it derives from the manufacture of iron. But this is

far from being the case. The manifest and habitual policy of our

government, is to derive its revenue indirectly through the custom

house, instead of seeking it in direct taxation. When these duties

descend to a level with the minimum expenditure, they cannot be

considered burthensome, because they in fact replace revenues that must

be drawn from other sources. If, for instance, the iron employed in a

specific object, appear to cost more than in some other country, that

object may yet be afforded cheaper with us, in consequence of its maker

being free from other burthens, which the repeal of the duty on iron,

would throw upon him as a necessary substitute. If then our furnaces and

forges, when a sufficient capital shall be invested in them under a

protecting duty, can afford iron as cheap as it can be imported from

other countries, under a minimum of duty, it cannot in truth be said,

that this raw material will enhance the price of the articles

manufactured from it. Let us see whether there be any reasonable

prospect that we shall have iron produced in our own country, which will

compete with foreign iron of equal quality, paying a duty of 25 per

centum. If this be the case, the profits arising from the present

protection, must, in a few years, call forth such production as will

reduce the price to a proper level.

The best grey pig iron of American manufacture, superior in strength,

and equal in all other respects to the Scotch, is now sold in the New

York market at $45 per ton. Good grey iron of the usual character, is

worth $35 per ton, and there is no question that forge pig could be

obtained by the manufacturer of bar iron, for $25. If it were even to

cost $30, it is still cheaper than Staffordshire iron, far less fit for

the purpose, can be imported. The Muirkirk iron, so valuable for the

casting of machinery, used to cost to import it, at the present rate of

duty, $55 and $56. The Bennington furnace commenced the competition with

it at this rate, but has been compelled, after driving the Scotch iron

from the market, to sell at $45, which is as low as the foreign could be

imported at a minimum duty.

Taking the cost of forge pig at $25, the price of converting into bars

by charcoal, would be, according to the Philadelphia memorial, $18, and

the ton of wrought iron ought to cost no more than $43. We however

believe that this cost is far underrated, and that even by the aid of

rollers in a part of the process, iron of the best quality could not be

produced under $50. This is as cheap as merchantable English puddled

iron can be imported, paying 25 per cent. duty. But, even if the pig

cost $35, and the wrought iron, $60, it is still cheaper than the

English iron, worth in that market 10_l._ 10_s._ can be imported; and

the latter is the cheapest which can be obtained in that country,

suitable for the manufacture of anchors and chain-cables. At the present

moment, however, iron cannot be produced so cheaply, for the forges and

furnaces may be considered as in a great measure new, and undergoing all

the difficulties of new establishments. Capital above all is wanting,

from a want of confidence in the success of the enterprize, growing out

of a fear of the repeal of the duty, and the recollection of the former

catastrophe; and even credit, so essential where capital is deficient,

is at a low ebb. Hence, if profit be made, it rather centers in the

capitalist who makes the advances, than in the maker. Thus we have known

iron in the bloom, sold at $45 per ton; and, when finished for the

market by rolling, bring $100. The latter price, however, could not long

be maintained, and has descended to $75 and $80, which still leaves the

greater part of the profit to the capitalist.

But we are of opinion, that the manufacture of iron by charcoal is not

that to which our country should look for its final supply. It is at

best a precarious resource, and its production must diminish with the

advance of agriculture, and the consequent demand, while every increase

in the price of land must raise the cost. It is then to a total change

in the seat and mode of manufacture, that we are to be hereafter

beholden for the supply of this first necessary of civilized life. A

change will first take place in the sites of the two branches; pig iron

will continue to be manufactured by charcoal, and the bar converted by

coal. For this the great coal field of Pennsylvania will afford the

earliest facilities. No doubt can be entertained that the more freely

burning varieties of anthracite will work well in the puddling furnace,

as they have been successfully employed in the rolling and slitting of

bar iron. When the same species of coal is mixed with charcoal in the

blast furnace, it produces excellent forge pig, and thus the two species

of fuel may be advantageously united, although the coal alone will not

answer the purpose. The value of this coal in the mine and the cost of

raising it, is as yet less than that of bituminous coal in any part of

Europe, and thus we cannot avoid concluding that when it shall be

brought into use, our manufacturers might compete with the English even

if unprotected by duty. Our fields of bituminous coal are yet too

distant from dense population, and too far removed from easy

communication, to be looked to at present, but unless modes be invented

by which the anthracite coal can be used without mixture in the blast

furnace, these will become the ultimate seats of the manufacturing

industry of the United States.

But for reducing the price of iron, by competition within our country,

to a level with that of other countries, capital is required, and to

divert it to this purpose, the capitalist must feel assured that he

shall derive a certain profit from its investment, and that he shall be

subjected to no fluctuations in price and still more in demand, from a

vacillating course in the government. The establishment of works so

perfect as to compete in their manipulations with the English, is a

serious business, and till they be established in numbers, we must be

dependent on foreign countries for no small proportion of the important

article of iron that we consume. A forge for manufacturing puddled iron

cannot be profitable unless its machinery be kept in regular employ, for

the cost of that will be the same in all cases. This constant employment

cannot be given by fewer than eighteen reverberatory furnaces, and the

first cost of the works will not be less than $100,000, of which the

machinery alone costs $50,000. To supply an establishment of this

magnitude with pig, would employ three blast furnaces working with coke,

or six with charcoal, the cost of which would reach at least $120,000.

The value of the manufactured article would not fall short of a million

of dollars, and would require to carry it on a floating capital of not

less than $250,000. Thus it appears that a system of works for the

manufacture of iron, which should compete to advantage with those of

England, would find employment for a capital of half a million of

dollars, even with the advantage of credit, and the ready conversion of

its securities into cash through the banks. So long, then, as the policy

of our government is unsettled, we can hardly expect that so vast an

operation can be undertaken either by individual or by corporate funds.

A division of the business has been indeed attempted; there is more than

one puddling forge in the United States that relies upon the purchase of

pig for its supply. These unquestionably do a fair and profitable

business, but do not act to the same advantage as they would were the

two branches of the manufacture united. The chief difficulty under which

they labour is, that they must consult, in their location, convenience

in the supply of the raw material, and must therefore neglect what would

in the abstract be the most important consideration, the supply of fuel.

Thus, at least one of the puddling forges of which we have spoken, is

compelled to use imported fuel, and none are situated where alone the

nation could derive essential benefit from them, immediately over a rich

bed of coal.

It is not pretended to maintain that the present duties on iron are not

too high in general for a permanent rate, and that the distribution of

their rates is not injudicious. All that we would contend for is, that

there shall be no sudden change in the principle, by which a valuable

branch of industry would be at once destroyed beyond the possibility of

re-establishment. We have been able to discover no argument in the

blacksmith's petition, or in the report of the majority of the committee

of the Senate, in favour of an entire repeal of duty on raw iron, that

does not apply equally to the articles manufactured from it; and we

presume that those useful and respectable mechanics would think their

principles carried a step too far, should they be made to bear upon the

fabrics of their own industry. We are willing, in addition, at once to

admit that where the scale has been founded upon improper principles, it

ought to be instantly changed.

To attain the first object, as we presume it will not be contended that

iron shall ever be imported free of duty, while the nation needs a

revenue to meet its current expenditure, let a minimum be fixed beyond

which it shall not descend, and which will, evidently, when correctly

viewed, place our consumers of iron on an equal footing with those who

pay direct taxes in other countries; to this minimum, after a certain

definite period, let the duty be gradually and almost insensibly

reduced. Less than twenty-five years would probably be insufficient to

effect this without incurring a wanton waste of property. We are aware,

indeed that our national legislature can perform no act which its

successors may not annul, but a hearty concurrence on the part of Mr.

Dickerson and Mr. Hayne, representing, as they do, the two great

opposing interests in this question, would be a pledge that might be

acted upon by capitalists. The expediency of investment would then

become a subject of strict calculation, and we do not fear the result.

As to the injudicious adjustment of the scale, the higher rates of

duties fall upon articles, which under present circumstances are not

capable of being protected, except by actual prohibition. These are the

small forms of rod and round iron, hoops and sheets. The introduction of

the joint operations of puddling and rolling, has altogether changed the

manner of manufacturing these in Europe; they are now, with the

exception of sheets, made directly from the pig, by as few operations as

common bars; our own puddling forges are adopting the same method, and

so soon as they are capable of supplying the market, must drive out the

articles of these descriptions, made by those who use merchantable bar

iron, and roll it down or slit it. The slitting and rolling mills which

are conducted on this last principle, are therefore beyond the reach of

support. The inequality in the duty too, is more than the cost of

performing the additional operation upon the bar, and is hence rather

injurious than otherwise, to the interest of the producers of the raw

iron, while it bears with great severity upon those consumers who are

themselves manufacturers of hardware. The duty upon these articles

should then be adjusted so as to bear the proportion to that upon bar

iron, which their values do in the foreign market whence they are

derived.

On the other hand, there are certain articles, of which the price of the

raw material, whether cast or bar iron, forms the chief value, and which

are actually convertible to the same purposes with their base. On these,

there can be no question, that every consideration of policy and justice

requires that the duty should be raised. Several articles of this

description are enumerated by the Philadelphia memorialists, where the

fabric is of wrought iron; and it is obvious that there are others, made

at a blast furnace from the metal at its first reduction, which might be

used as a substance for pig. Such articles, however, cannot be numerous;

for iron is, after all, a material of such low price, that it can be

hardly wrought into any important species of goods, in which the value

of the workmanship will not exceed the cost of the raw article. The _ad

valorem_ duty must, therefore, in most cases, be an efficient

protection, both to the maker of iron and the manufacturer of hardware.

Where however it is not, an easy principle will restore the

irregularity; for it is only necessary to collect the duties by weight,

and affix to them the same rates which the raw iron pays.

The plan we have proposed, of continuing the present duty for a limited

time, is consistent with the policy of all civilized nations, who do not

hesitate to grant monopolies for definite periods to the inventers of

new processes in the arts, and most of whom give equal encouragement to

those who merely introduce them. Our government, indeed, has never

adopted the latter principle, but it may well be questioned whether it

have not in this way prevented the introduction of many important

branches of manufacture. The former has been adopted in its full extent,

and its utility is unquestioned. If, then, it be sound and highly

profitable policy, to grant a monopoly to individuals for limited

periods, thereby excluding our own citizens from advantages which in

most cases lie open to foreign countries, much more will it be politic

and profitable, to protect a whole class of our own artificers from

external competition for a similar period, leaving the price to be

lessened by the competition that security, from a change of system, will

infallibly create. The usual limit of a patent right having been found

efficient in drawing forth inventive talent, an equal duration of

protecting duty might be depended upon as sufficient to induce the

investment of capital in a business whose processes are understood, and

in relation to which strict calculations can be made. But these

protecting duties must not suddenly cease; for if they do, a spirit of

speculation, both on our part and on that of foreign merchants, would

infallibly throw into the market an excess of the article from abroad;

and although the importer might not be exempted wholly from the ruinous

consequence of the over trade, infallible destruction would visit our

own establishments. Such was the case in 1816 and 1817. The losses on

the iron trade were not confined to our own manufacturers, but visited

the importers, whether British or American, and reached in their remote

consequences, but with diminished effect, the forges and furnaces of

England. The latter were, however, protected by the whole capital of the

merchant, which was annihilated before the ruin could reach them, while

the American establishments were directly exposed to it. The adventurous

spirit of British commerce, in fact, produced on this occasion an effect

similar to that which the people of the continent have erroneously

ascribed to the government of that country. New markets are no sooner

opened, than loads of British fabrics are thrown in, and necessarily

sacrificed; those who see no more than their own domestic misfortunes,

naturally ascribe to the policy of the nation, what is in fact the

misjudged enterprise of rash individuals. The effect has, however, been

in many cases the same, as if the act had been the result of a

deliberate national system; for the foreign industry has been often

prostrated, while the capital of the British has enabled it to bear the

momentary shock, and then to replace its losses by the undivided

enjoyment of the disputed market.

Having proposed that the duty on imported iron, after remaining for a

limited period at its present rate, should thereafter be gradually

reduced to a minimum, it remains that we should examine at what rate

this minimum should be fixed. This we conceive may be adjusted merely as

a question of revenue. Raw iron being a material of great weight, in

proportion to its value, cannot be smuggled; it will therefore bear,

among all articles, nearly the highest rate of impost, in proportion to

its cost. This rate of duty should be calculated upon the higher

qualities of wrought and bar iron, and be applied equally to all the

different shades of each article. For a wise policy would dictate that

the import of the inferior sorts should be more impeded than that of the

best descriptions. This is analogous to the system at present sanctioned

by law, and is dictated by sound views. Fixing then the minimum duty at

about twenty-five per cent, on the value of the better qualities of the

two varieties of raw iron, it will amount to about seven and a half

dollars on the pig, and fifteen dollars on the bar. To this limit we

believe that the duty may be finally reduced, without causing injury to

our own trade, provided the present duties remain in force for fourteen

years, and be then gradually lessened to this assumed minimum.

It will be seen, that our views neither go the whole length of those of

the sticklers for either system, the _tariff_ or the _anti-tariff_,--and

we fear, that, at the moment, they will be equally objectionable to the

advocates of both. We however cannot but believe, that they are founded

upon sound and just principles. We give the fullest meed of praise to

that policy which has recalled into existence by a protecting duty, the

most important of manufactures, because the basis of all the rest. But,

we cannot see that it would be judicious to continue this duty, after it

shall have produced its whole vivifying effect. While, therefore, on the

one hand, it appears to be no more than a fulfilment of a solemn

contract, that the manufacture of iron shall be protected, we cannot

urge that that protection should continue forever; and, in relation to

the diminution of duty, we conceive that it ought to be gradual, and not

sudden. Modified in conformity with such principles, we conceive that a

"judicious tariff" might be rendered popular in all parts of the Union.

In the northern and eastern states, the tariff policy has no opponents,

except in the merchants engaged in foreign commerce; in the western

States, the opinion in favour of the present system, is almost

unanimous. The southern states, and a portion of the mercantile interest

of the north, are alone in direct opposition to protecting duties. The

agricultural interest of the north and west, seeing and feeling directly

the benefits which the establishment of manufactures confers upon it,

has given what is called the American system,--which is in principle, if

it err occasionally in detail, the sound and true policy of the

nation--its full and undivided support. We cannot but hope to see the

day arrive, when the mist raised by designing politicians, and _soi

disant_ economists, shall be dissipated, and when the southern states

will see that they are not merely indirectly, but as directly benefited

by the creation of manufacturing industry in the northern districts of

the Union, as they have been by that part of the system which has

secured them a complete monopoly of the home market for their own

products. Of all the states of the Union, Louisiana has derived the most

immediate and important advantages from protecting duties, but they have

also been shared by her neighbours; and we cannot hesitate to conclude,

that, next to Louisiana, South Carolina has been most benefited. The

cotton of India, which would have been preferred, from its low price,

for the manufacture of the coarse articles with which our factories have

in all cases commenced their business, is in fact prohibited; the

creation of the growth of sugar has occupied land and capital, which, if

applied to the culture of cotton, must have driven the whole upland

staple from the markets of the world; and, more than all, a growing

domestic demand has arisen, which foreign interference cannot controul

or diminish. In return for such advantages, it might fairly have been

expected that some burthen would fall upon the southern states, and no

doubt it might appear to be capable of plausible proof, that a portion

of the increased duties amounted to an actual tax. But this appearance

on which so much stress has been laid, is only upon paper, and does not

exist in reality, for we believe that they may be challenged, and must

fail if they attempt, to prove that the cost of the production of any

one staple has been in the slightest degree increased. We believe that

it has, on the contrary, diminished. It would lead us too far to show

how this has been the natural result: we appeal therefore to the fact

alone.

And so in respect to the clamour which it has been attempted to excite

among importing merchants, we might appeal to the growing prosperity of

that interest, as a proof that the clamour has no foundation. We however

believe that the obvious cause lies, in the latter instance, upon the

surface, and exists in the plan of credit duties, the wise conception of

the illustrious Hamilton, by which, so long as the limit at which

smuggling would be profitable, or consumption diminished, is not

reached, every addition of duty increases the effective capital, and

adds to the net profits of the importer. In illustration of this view of

the subject, we may cite the well-established fact, that most of the

great mercantile fortunes of our commercial cities, have owed their more

important increase to the judicious employment of the capital, thus in

effect loaned by the government without interest.

To use the words of the majority of the Committee of the Senate of the

United States, quoted at the head of this article:

"Of all the metals, iron contributes most to the wealth, the

comfort, and the improvement of society. It enters most

largely into the consumption of all ranks and constitutions

of men. It furnishes the mechanic with his tools, the farmer

with the implements of his husbandry, the merchant with the

means of fitting out his ship, and the manufacturer with the

very instruments of his wealth and prosperity."

The wisdom of Europe draws very different conclusions, from a similar

view of the importance of iron, from those which are deduced by the

majority of the Committee of the Senate.

"The preparation of iron has become the most essential

branch of industry, in consequence of the immediate profit

it produces to the masters of forges, of the general good

that society draws from it, and of the advantages it offers

to governments. No other occupies so many arms, produces so

active or so constant a circulation of money, or exercises

so direct an influence on the riches of the state and the

ease of the people. It is therefore the particular interest

of every government to favour it, to sustain it by the most

efficacious measures, and to carry it to the highest degree

of prosperity." _Karsten_--(_Introduction_.)

The measures proposed for this purpose, include bounties, the advance of

capital, and the prohibition of foreign iron. Such is the uniform

practice of by far the greater part of the nations of Europe. The

governments receive the most advantageous returns for such protection.

"In the imposts of all kinds, that it derives directly or

indirectly from the establishments themselves, the workmen

employed, and the numerous _personnel_ whose existence is

linked to that of the manufacture of iron. But that which

ought most particularly to fix the attention of government,

consists in the precious advantages which are derived from

it by rural economy, by other branches of industry, and

which it affords for internal security and external

defence." _Karsten_.

It has been seen, that we cannot consider that measures of such extent

are required in our own country. Still, were we, as all European nations

are, in direct contact with rival or hostile powers, their necessity

would be imperative.

ART. V.--_The Siamese Twins. A Satirical Tale of the Times,

with other Poems, by the Author of Pelham, &c._ J. & J.

Harper: New-York: pp. 308.

This production furnishes one of the most remarkable instances to be

found in the history of literature, of the wide difference between

notoriety and merit. No work ever came from the press whose anticipated

excellence was more loudly proclaimed, and none, we are persuaded, ever

more disappointed high-wrought expectation. That the author of Pelham

was about to favour the world with a great poetical production of a

satirical character, was announced in the different periodical works,

with all that elation and pomposity which indicated the assurance that

some important addition to the poetical literature of England, was about

to take place. Prophetic eulogy was strained to the uttermost. Public

anxiety for the appearance of the mighty work, became all that the

booksellers could wish. Every one was not only eager to read, but

prepared to admire, and impatient to praise--for the fashion of praising

this author, whether he wrote well or ill, had set in; and who in this

age of polite pretensions, would dare to be unfashionable?

Nor has the attentive author himself been deficient on this occasion, in

the fatherly duty of bespeaking public opinion in favour of his

offspring. In a preface remarkable for that startling species of modesty

by which a man becomes the trumpeter of his own greatness, he predicts

that, if not immediately, at least in eight or ten years hence, his

works will make such an impression, as to occasion a revolution in the

poetical taste of mankind, and become the model of a new school in the

"Divine Art." The confidential puffers to whom the idea was imparted, in

despite of whatever doubts they might entertain on the subject, scrupled

not to give publicity to the prediction. A work destined to such an

illustrious career, could not fail to be endowed with an exalted and

overpowering excellence of some kind, and also of a kind different

altogether from any that had hitherto given satisfaction to the readers

of poetry. The poetical tastes and habits of our nature were, in fact,

to be entirely changed by the influence of this mighty satire. No

wonder, therefore, that curiosity respecting the work was sufficiently

awakened to occasion for it a large demand on its first appearance.

Many of the conductors of the periodical press, who gave publicity to

this exaggerated strain of praise, were, no doubt, sceptical as to its

being altogether merited, and must have acted from motives either of

interest or of courtesy. Yet there may have been some who believed in

the possibility of the wonders which were predicted. Indeed, in this

strange age, when miracles are scarcely to be accounted wonders--when

ships are propelled without wind, and carriages without horses--when

schoolboys and journeymen printers overturn governments and make and

unmake kings with almost as much facility as the manager of a play-house

casts the character of a drama; what extraordinary things may not with

propriety be credited? Even philosophy may now, without reproach,

believe in absurdity; and thoughtless paragraphists, without being

laughed at, may be permitted to suppose that an adventurous rhymester

may speak truth, when he asserts that he is about to revolutionize the

principles of poetical taste and composition!

When mutation is the order of the day, why may not human nature itself

be changed? When all physical obstructions to locomotion, and all

impediments to the march of mind, are yielding to the ingenuity and

activity of man, why may not his own natural feelings and dispositions

also yield, and become changed? But hold--the author of this Siamese

satire has discovered that they have already changed! Not merely have

the opinions and pursuits of society taken a new direction, and the

habits and views of the present, become different from those of the past

generation--this would be readily admitted--but a much more important

alteration in the constitution of man, he affirms, has taken place. It

is not only the _condition_, but the _nature_ of the species that he

asserts to be changed. With the last generation, all the old impulses of

the heart--all susceptibility of love or hatred, friendship or enmity,

pity or revenge--all feelings of pride, avarice, ambition, or love of

fame--all emotions of joy, grief, anger, remorse--all generosity,

charity, desire of happiness, and self-preservation--all, all are passed

away!

"Has not a new generation," our author asks, in his odd and hardly

intelligible preface, "arisen? Has not a new impetus been given to the

age? Do not _new feelings_ require to be expressed? and are there not

new readers to be propitiated, who sharing _but in a feeble degree the

former enthusiasm_, will turn, not with languid attention, to the claims

of fresh aspirants."

These are some of the changes which have brought about, as he

imagines--the circumstances that call for the new and "_less_

enthusiastic" school of poetry, which, founded by him, is to secure the

admiration of at least part of the present, and the whole of the ensuing

generation. "A poet," he says, "who aspires to reputation, must be

adapted to the coming age, not rooted to that which is already gliding

away." He admits that "the worn out sentiments, the affectations and the

weaknesses of our departed bards, may, by the elder part of the

community, be still considered components of a deep philosophy, or the

signs of a superior mind." But, for this unfortunate circumstance, which

militates so much against the immediate success of his new school, he

consoles himself with the persuasion that "the _young_ have formed a

nobler estimate of life, and a habit of reasoning, at once founded upon

a homelier sense, and yet aspiring to more elevated conclusions."

What this, as well as many other equally awkward sentences in this

presumptuous preface, exactly means, it is not easy to say. Our sons, on

whose admiration of his poetry, Mr. Bulwer depends for the success of

his new system, are, in order to qualify themselves for relishing its

beauties, to form a _nobler_ estimate than we entertain of life, while

their habits of reasoning are to be founded on a _homelier_ sense; and

yet, homely as they are to be in their reasoning, they are to aspire to

_more elevated_ conclusions! If, indeed, such inconsistencies are to

characterize our sons; if their intellects are to be so utterly confused

and perplexed as is here predicted, they may possibly become admirers of

the new school, of which the redoubtable satire before us is to be the

origin. But we hope better things of our posterity. We cannot think that

their natural feelings will vary so very far from our own, as to induce

them to prefer insipid verbosity and unintelligible doggerel, to the

animating strains of genuine poetry, or the sprightly wit and stinging

ridicule of true satire.

Since the work which was to perform such miracles has appeared, and has

been found so egregiously to disappoint expectation, why do those who

puffed it on trust, still continue to extol it? The expression of their

favourable anticipations might be excused; for they may have believed

all that they asserted. But their eyes must now be open. The most

prejudiced, on perusing the work, must be convinced of its imbecility as

a satire, and its insipidity as a poem. Why, then, persist in error?

Complaisance to the prevailing fashion, and a desire to swim with the

current, may be the feelings which generally prompt to such conduct. But

they are poor apologies for wilfully deceiving the public in a matter so

essential to the interests of poetical literature. The critic who

knowingly recommends an undeserving poem, ought to be aware that he is

contributing to destroy the public confidence in all new poetry; for

when men find that tame and uninteresting works are so freely

recommended, they very naturally conclude that the times produce none

others worthy of recommendation.

We should think, indeed, that experience had, by this time, taught the

world the little reliance which ought to be placed generally on

contemporary criticism, particularly that description of it usually

found in newspapers. But the wide diffusion of this species of

periodical work, gives them an influence which no experience, however

palpable, of their erroneous judgments in literary matters, has yet been

able to counteract. The public, in truth, has hitherto had its attention

but little drawn towards this subject. The fate of a new book seems to

be a matter so uninteresting to any but the author and the publisher,

that whether editors speak of it favourably or unfavourably, or pass

over it with entire neglect, is considered of no importance. It is

forgotten that _good_ literature forms the chief and most permanent

glory of a country; that its prosperity is, therefore, of much national

value, and ought, for the public benefit, to be assiduously promoted.

But the chance of good literature being properly encouraged, will be

ever extremely small, so long as worthless productions are forced into

even temporary eclat, by those ready and often glowing commendations of

careless editors, which must always, more or less, give direction to

public patronage.

There is an erroneous opinion, unfortunately too prevalent among all

classes, that no book can become generally noticed and much praised in

the periodical works, but in consequence of its merit. To those who hold

this opinion, the system of reverberating praise from one journal to

another, must be unknown. In this country this system is, at present,

carried to a great extent. It is chiefly produced by indolence or want

of leisure, preventing our editors from carefully reading and judging

for themselves, aided by a desire which actuates many of them to be

thought fashionable in their opinions. The literary idol of the day is

generally set up in the English metropolis. Of course, the fashion of

worshipping him commences there. We soon hear of him on this side of the

ocean. We wait not to examine whether he be entitled to homage. We take

that for granted, since we are told that he is considered so in London.

With slavish obsequiousness, we hasten to follow the capricious example

of the great metropolis, and shout paeans for the fashionable idol, with

as much zeal as if we really discerned in his works merit sufficiently

exalted to entitle him to such applause, although the probability is,

that, while we are bestowing it, we have scarcely glanced over his

productions.

Now all this is, on our parts, exceedingly ridiculous and irrational. It

not only exposes our servility, but it betrays our ignorance of many of

the temporary excitements in favour of certain authors and their works,

which take place in London. It shows that we are not aware of the fact,

that, in the majority of cases, the rage for a new book, is owing to

circumstances not at all connected with its merit. An influential and

enterprising publisher,--a striking or a popular subject,--a sounding

title,--a bold,--a wealthy or an eccentric author,--and, above all, a

continued series of well-managed puffs, invariably do much more towards

making a new book fashionable, than any excellence it may possess; and

the inducement to purchase it is more frequently the knowledge that it

is fashionable, than the conviction that it is good. Hence, it is to

their title-pages, rather than to their nature or quality, that new

books are mostly indebted for their immediate success. Their permanent

success--that is, their enduring fame--is another matter. Merit, and

merit only, can secure that; for it is the result of the cool and

deliberate approbation which is awarded by the judgment of mankind, when

the adventitious circumstances which first excited attention towards the

book, have passed away, and can operate no longer on curiosity. The

history of literature amply proves this. Books have often had, for a

time, great mercantile value, and been highly profitable to the

booksellers, that have been utterly worthless in a literary point of

view. Of this fact the book-dealers are so well aware, that, rather than

risk the expense of publishing the most beautiful composition of an

unknown author, they will pay largely for manuscripts of the merest

trash, from the pen of one to whom some lucky accident has already drawn

public attention. Many of our well-meaning echoers of the London puffs

of new books, are certainly ignorant of this circumstance, or they would

not lend their aid to give circulation and temporary repute to much of

the vile literature, which, under the names of novels, poems, travels,

&c. the press of London has so largely poured forth, during the last

eight or ten years, to the great deterioration not only of the literary

taste, but of the manners and morals of the age.

It is indeed a sad mistake to suppose, that nothing but the literary

excellence of a new book, renders it saleable. Yet it is a mistake so

very general, that the booksellers find that the most effectual mode of

recommending a new work, is, to allege that it _sells_ rapidly. Who does

not know, when a book with the reputation of being in great demand,

comes amongst us, the eagerness with which it is sought after? No matter

how dull it may be, while it is considered saleable, it is perused with

delight. A thousand beauties are discovered in it, which cool and

unprepossessed judgment could never discern; and, as to faults, although

they should stare the deluded reader in the face, as thickly and visibly

as trees in a forest, he will doubt the accuracy of his own sensations,

rather than admit that he perceives them. Such, over weak minds, is the

magic influence of a fashionable name,--nay, such is the influence, when

the name is only _supposed_ to be fashionable.

That the work before us would sell well, at least for a season, let its

poetry be ever so bad, was to be expected, from the circumstances under

which it appeared. Its publishers, Colburn and Bentley, are now the most

fashionable in London, and are considered to possess more influence over

the periodical works, than even the magnificent Murray; its author is a

man of bustle, boldness, and notoriety, who has acquired considerable

repute as the writer of three or four novels, which got into extensive

circulation by professing, however untruly, to give genuine and

unsparing delineations of fashionable life. To speak technically, _his

name was up_; and, by the aid of this lucky elevation, his active

publishers could not fail to dispose of an edition or two of his satire,

in despite of its worthlessness as a literary performance.

We have thus, we imagine, satisfactorily shown that it is possible for a

work to be, for a time, noted, saleable and fashionable, without

possessing any great share of literary merit. We may, therefore, be

allowed to deny, that the present demand for this poem, which, we

believe, will be of but brief continuance, is any evidence of its

deserving that unlimited homage which its author claims for it. That it

will ever effect the great poetical revolution which he so modestly

anticipates, we imagine that, by this time, few are more inclined to

believe, than ourselves. From its appearance, therefore, we feel no

alarm for the stability of that reputation which our favourite bards

have gained by those immortal works, to whose noble and animating

strains, the hearts of millions have so often responded!

But, it is time that we should enter into some examination of the

character of this work, and show our reasons for the disapprobation of

it as a poem and a satire, which we have so freely expressed.

It will be admitted, we presume, that, when an author does not succeed

in accomplishing his design, his work is a failure. The design of the

author of this poem was, as we are informed by the title-page, to write

a satire, has he done so? Those who are loudest in commendation of the

poem, have acknowledged its satirical portions to be feeble, and without

point. But they contend that it contains a sufficiency of good poetry of

another description, to atone for this defect. We confess that we have

not been fortunate enough, after a careful perusal, to discover this

redeeming poetry. Whether it be of the sentimental, descriptive, or

ethical species, we therefore cannot tell. Perhaps it is an ingenious

mingling of them in one mass, in which the beauties of each, conceal

those of the others from view? If so, how many disinterested readers

will submit to the trouble of extricating them from the confusion in

which they lie, so as to see them distinctly, and become fully aware of

their _latent_ splendour? We attempted, as in duty bound, to hunt for

these gems. We discovered a few that sparkled a little,--but they were

indeed so few, and their lustre so faint, that we could not consider

them worth the labour of exploring one moiety of the abundance of

rubbish in which they are buried. We believe that the generality of

readers will be equally disappointed; and that the book will be almost

invariably laid down with a feeling that it is tedious, awkward, and

dull,--in short, in respect to its _poetical_ as well as its satirical

character, a failure without redemption.

But the author calls it a satire. It is therefore as a satire, that it

ought to be judged. In our opinion, it is no more a satire than a

sermon; nay, we have read sermons in which the satiric thong is wielded

with much more effect against wickedness and folly, than in this

production. We need not enter into a philological explanation of the

term satire,--the word is common enough, and we presume that every

reader who understands plain English, knows its meaning. To render vice

disgusting, and folly ridiculous, is the legitimate office of the

satirist. Sarcasm and wit are his most usual and effectual weapons.

Ridicule and reprobation are also used; the former when the intention is

to excite derision, and the latter when the arousing of indignation is

the object. The great aim of the satirist ought always to be the

reformation of depraved morals, corrupt institutions, absurd customs, or

offensive manners. The contemporary prevalence of such, is what excites

his indignation, or provokes his ridicule; and, if he possesses power

and dexterity to apply the lash, he performs a real service to society,

and acquires a deserved and enviable name among the useful and agreeable

writers of the day.

Has Mr. Bulwer applied the lash in this manner? Against what vice does

he awaken the indignation of his readers, or what folly does he expose

to their contempt? We ask for information, for we have not, with our

best efforts, been able ourselves to make the discovery. It is true,

that, in the perusal of his work, we met with some awkward attempts to

be witty at the expense of Basil Hall, the Duke of Wellington, Thomas

Moore, Joseph Hume, and two or three others of the conspicuous

characters of the times. But, if satire never launches keener arrows

against these men, than are to be found in this book, we fear that,

whatever may be their faults or foibles, no dread of her power will

induce them to reform. The only feelings they can experience from the

harmless missiles of Mr. Bulwer, are pity for his vanity, and contempt

for his weakness.

There is but one passage in this long poem which contains upwards of

eight thousand lines, that deserves to be called satirical. It is in

relation to the missionary Hodges. In this some tolerable _hits_ are

made at the union of selfishness and prejudice which too frequently

characterize the religious missionaries of all sects, who are employed

by the zeal of the wealthy and pious at home, to convert to Christianity

the heathen inhabitants of foreign countries. The missionary in

question, who is the only character in the work drawn with any power of

dramatic conception, is represented as haranguing the people of Siam on

the inferiority of their institutions to those of England, (in which, by

the by, neither Americans nor Englishmen will be apt to discover much

satire,) and threatening, in language as coarse as that of the canting

Maworm, to reform them, whether they will or not, from the evil ways of

their ancestors. We shall quote part of the passage, and as it is

unquestionably the cleverest satirical portion of the whole poem, the

friends of Mr. Bulwer cannot accuse us of doing him injustice by the

selection.--

"Accordingly our saint one day,

Into the market took his way,

Climbed on an empty tub, that o'er

Their heads he might declaim at ease,

And to the rout began to roar

In wretched Siamese.

'Brethren! (for every one's my fellow,

Tho' I am white, and you are yellow,)

Brethren! I came from lands afar

To tell you all--what fools you are!

Is slavery, pray, so soft, and glib a tie,

That you prefer the chain to liberty?

Is Christian faith a melancholy tree,

That you will only sow idolatry?

Just see to what good laws can bring lands,

And hear an outline of old England's.

Now, say if _here_ a lord should hurt you,

Are you made whole by legal virtue?

For ills by battery or detraction,

Say, can you bring at once your action?

And are the rich not much more sure

To gain a verdict than the poor?

With us alike the poor or rich,

Peasant or prince, no matter which--

Justice to all the law dispenses,

And all it costs--are the expenses!

_Here_ if an elephant you slay,

Your very lives the forfeit pay:

Now that's a _quid pro quo_--too seri-

Ous much for beasts _naturae ferae_.

* * * * *

* * * * *

_These_ are the thing's that best distinguish men--

These make the glorious boast of Englishmen!

More could I tell you were there leisure,

But I have said enough to please, sure:

Now then if you the resolution

Take for a British constitution,

A British king, church, commons, peers--

I'll be your guide! dismiss your fears.

With Hampden's name and memory warm you!

And, d--n you all--but I'll reform you!

As for the dogs that wont be free,

We'll give it them most handsomely;

To church with scourge and halter lead 'em,

And thrash the rascals into freedom."

This fine speech, it appears, had much the same effect on its auditors,

that we believe Mr. Bulwer's poem will have on nine-tenths of his

readers;--it produced a sensation of disdain for the understanding as

well as the principles of its author. Under the influence of this

feeling, the men of Siam could not forbear executing a practical joke on

the orator. They elevated him in a palanquin, raised by means of tall

poles, to a great height above their heads; from which altitude, after

parading him in mock triumph through the streets of their chief city,

they, with little regard to consequences, tossed him into the air. The

poem says--

"So high he went, with such celerity,

It seemed as for some god-like merit he

Carried from earth, like great Alcides,

To Jupiter's ambrosial side is.

But, oh! as maiden speakers break

Ev'n so, (while fearing to be crushed

Each idler from beneath him dodges),

Swift, heavy--like an avalanche--rushed

To earth the astonished form of Hodges.

He lay so flat, he lay so still,

He seemed beyond all farther ill.

They pinched his side, they shook his head,

And then they cried, 'The man is dead!'

On this, each felt no pleasing chill;

For ev'n among the Bancockeans,

A gentleman for fun to kill,

Is mostly punished--in plebeians.

They stare--look serious--mutter--cough--

And then, without delay, sneak off;

Nor at a house for succour knocked, or

Thought once of sending for the doctor."

The twins, Chang and Ching, remain behind, and taking pity on the

maltreated missionary, convey him to their father's house, which was

convenient. Here he is treated with kindness, and soon recovers of the

contusions and a broken leg, occasioned by his fall.

A notable scheme now seized the fertile brain of the money loving

missionary. The _lusus naturae_ which connected the bodies of the twins,

he conceived would render their exhibition profitable in England. He

obtained the consent of their father to carry them to Europe, by

stipulating to allow them one-half of the earnings of their exhibition.

The acquiescence of the youths themselves he easily procured by

inflaming their curiosity to witness the glory and happiness of England,

which he described in the most glowing terms of national panegyric.

The twins, however, resolved to consult one of the magicians of the

country relative to the result of their intended enterprise, before they

should commit themselves to the care of an absolute stranger who was to

convey them so far from home. The account of this consultation--the

temple of the magician--his manner of consulting the fates, and the

mystical style of his addressing the twins, form by much the most

fanciful and readable portion of the book, and would certainly entitle

the author to some credit for wild and weird conceptions, were it not

for the unfortunate circumstance, that the whole is a palpable imitation

of the celebrated incantation scene in Der Freischutz. It is also

infested with the besetting sin of the whole poem, prolixity. Mr. Bulwer

too plainly shows in this work, that he is a bookmaker by profession,

and if the faculty of hammering a given number of ideas into as many

words as possible, be a useful branch of the craft, it is one in which

he has assuredly few competitors.

The arrival of Hodges and the twins in London, is at length announced in

the newspapers, and then begins what the author unquestionably intended

should be the principal business of the poem--namely, the quizzing of

London life and manners--or to use his own phrase, satirizing the times.

The idea of bringing Oriental strangers to Europe in order to exhibit

their surprise at witnessing customs and manners totally different from

those of their own country, is rather stale, and the humour of it, if

there be any humour in it, has been exhausted by much finer writers than

Mr. Bulwer has as yet shown himself to be. Various essayists, both of

France and England, have had recourse to this method of exposing the

vices and absurdities of their respective countries. Turkish spies,

Persian envoys, and Chinese philosophers, have all been brought into

requisition for this purpose. No novelty, therefore, can be claimed for

the employment of our Siamese adventurers on such trodden ground. It is,

indeed, sufficiently apparent, that the idea of making them a vehicle

for satire upon the English, was suggested by Goldsmith's Citizen of the

World. To try his strength with such a writer as Goldsmith, especially

in the walks of satire, was at least courageous on the part of Bulwer;

and if any circumstance could, in our estimation, atone for his woful

failure, it would be the hardihood which induced him to make the

attempt. We believe no reader ever became wearied of perusing

Goldsmith's Citizen of the World. But how any reader can toil through

this Siamese production, without becoming exhausted, we own is beyond

our comprehension.

In London, the twins meet with various adventures, which, no doubt, the

author intended should be extremely amusing to the reader. To us they

appear extremely jejune and silly. For instance, Lady Jersey sends one

of them a ticket of admission to Almacks, without recollecting to pay

the same compliment to the other. On appearing for entrance, the

door-keeper refuses to admit him who had been neglected. This obstacle,

of course, prevents the other from availing himself of his right to

enter. Lady Cowper, however, very soon sets all right by furnishing them

with another ticket. Now what there is either facetious or satirical in

this, we confess we cannot conceive. Equally silly is the incident of

the one brother being seized by a recruiting sergeant who had enlisted

him, while the other is arrested by a bailiff for debt. But as the

brothers cannot be separated, they get clear, the recruiting officer not

daring to carry off Ching who had not enlisted, and the bailiff being

equally afraid of the consequence of imprisoning Chang against whom he

had no writ--an old joke.

Now such bungling inventions appear to us insufferable. In the first

place, there is no emotion whatever, either of surprise, merriment, or

pity, awakened by the narrative, and in the next, the occurrences are so

contrary to all probability, that even poetical license, in its fullest

range, will not sanction their introduction. The deformity of the twins

would render either of them ineligible to be enlisted. The bailiff's

writ might, it is true, authorize the arrest of one only; but even that

is inconsistent with the statement previously made that their earnings

and expenses were all in common. We should suppose, therefore, that no

creditor would make such an invidious distinction between partners so

closely connected. These inconsistencies, however, might be pardoned, if

the stories were told with sufficient sprightliness and vigour to make

them interesting. But when an ill-contrived tale is drowsily told, the

reader must possess an immense fund of good nature not to scold the

author in his heart.

We shall pass over the rest of these dull adventures, which rebuke no

vice, and satirize no folly, and shall give a very brief outline of the

remainder of the poem. The brothers, unlike the real twins from whom the

title of the poem is borrowed, are represented as of entirely different

characters. Chang's disposition is grave, contemplative, and

sentimental, while Ching is light-hearted, gay, and volatile. Their

protector, Hodges, has a handsome daughter, with whom the meditative

Chang falls in love; but, without any apparent cause, he imagines that

she has given her heart to Ching. He becomes exceedingly jealous, and

absurdly enough, considering the nature of their connexion, meditates

the murder of his brother. He however discovers his mistake in time to

prevent the deed, and feels a reasonable share of remorse. In the

meantime, Mary, the lady in question, who commiserates their condition,

contrives, while they are asleep, to introduce a surgeon and his

assistant, who successfully cut through the connecting bond of flesh,

and, to the great joy of Chang, who had long felt much mortification at

the unnatural union, they are separated. Chang now cherishes strong

hopes of becoming acceptable to Mary, which are destined soon to be

blasted for ever. By an incident which detracts much from the

sentimental dignity with which he has been hitherto invested, for it

represents him as an eavesdropper, he discovers that she is irrevocably

engaged to her cousin, who is called Julian Laneham. This discovery

arouses him to a certain fit of magnanimity. He understands that Mary's

father objects to her union with Laneham, on account of the young man's

poverty. He suddenly disappears; and four days afterwards, two letters

are received, one by Hodges, and one by Ching, which, as the author

says, "shows the last _denouement_ of the story." The public curiosity

had rendered the brothers rich; and in his letter to Hodges, Chang

generously bestows on him his share of their property, on condition that

he will give his daughter to Laneham.

The old gentlemen agrees to the compact; and if the reader should have

patience enough to carry him so far through the book, he will, towards

its conclusion, be rewarded with a marriage, according to the old

established laws of romance writing. Why did Mr. Bulwer so far forget

the "originality of matter and of manner," in other words, the new

school of poetry, which he promised us in the preface, as to put us off

with so trite a conclusion?

In a passage towards the close of the poem, the indomitable egotism of

our author appears, in a curious allusion which he makes to the failure

of his efforts to become a member of parliament at the last general

election. His hero Laneham, for he is the true hero of the work, had

been a more successful candidate for the people's favour. The poet says,

without jealousy, we presume,--

"Moreover in the late election

He won a certain Burgh's affection.

Dined--drank--made love to wife and daughter,

Poured ale and money forth like water,

And won St. Stephen's Hall to hear

This parliament _may_ last a year!

The sire's delight you'll fancy fully--

He thinks he sees a second Tully;

And gravely says he will dispense

With Fox's force and Brinsley's wit,

So that our member boast the sense

Of that great statesmen--Pilot Pitt!

For me, my hope lies somewhat deeper;

We'll now, they say, be governed _cheaper!_

So Julian, pour your wrath on robbing,

And keep a careful eye on jobbing.

If you should waver in your choice

To whom to pledge your vote and voice,

You'll waver only, we presume,

Between an Althorpe and a Hume.

But mind--ONE vote--o'er all you hold,

And let the BALLOT conquer GOLD.

Don't utterly forget those asses,--

Ridden so long,--the lower classes;

But waking from sublimer _visions_,

Just see, poor things! to their _provisions_.

Let them for cheap bread be your debtor,

Cheap justice, too--that's almost better.

And though not bound to either College,

Don't clap a turnpike on their knowledge.

* * * * *

And ne'er forget this simple rule, boy,

Time is an everlasting schoolboy,

And as his trowsers he outgoes,

Be decent, nor begrudge him clothes.

* * * * *

In these advices towards your policy,

Many, dear Julian, will but folly see;

Yet what I preach to you to act is

But what _had been your author's practice_,

Had the mercurial star that beams

Upon elections blessed his dreams,

Had--but we ripen with delay,

And every dog shall have his day!"

From the last couplet, it appears, that our author has not yet

relinquished his expectations of being gratified with a seat in St.

Stephens.

In the following concluding lines, which succeed those we have just

quoted, the Twins are finally disposed of. We insert them here as a

notable instance of long efforts to kindle a blaze, at last dying away

in the suffocation of their own smoke.--

"And Ching?--poor fellow!--Ching can never

His former spirits quite recover;

Yet he's agreeable as ever,

And plays the C----k as a lover.

In every place he's vastly _feted_,

His name's in every lady's book;

And as a wit I hear he's rated

Between the Rogers's and Hook.

But Chang?--of him was known no more,

Since, Corsair like, he left the shore.

Wrapped round his fate the cloud unbroken,

Will yield our guess nor clew nor token.

He runs unseen his lonely race,

And if the mystery e'er unravels

The web around the wanderer's trace--

I fear we scarce could print his travels.

Since tourists every where have flocked,

The market's rather overstocked--

And so we leave the lands that need 'em

Throughout this 'dark terrestrial ball,'

To be well visited by freedom,--

And slightly nibbled at by Hall!"

ART. VI.--_Europe and America; or, the relative state of the

Civilized World at a future period. Translated from the

German of_ Dr. C. F. VON SCHMIDT-PHISELDEK, _Doctor of

Philosophy, one of his Danish Majesty's Counsellors of

State, Knight of Dannebrog, &c. &c._ By JOSEPH OWEN.

Copenhagen: 1820.

Although the translator of this book professes in his Preface to have

been principally induced to undertake the task by "the desire of being

the humble instrument of imparting to the American nation, that picture

of future grandeur and happiness, which the author so prophetically

holds out to them," we believe it is but little known among the readers

of this country. Yet it is in every respect a very interesting and

curious work. It will be seen by the title-page, that it was not only

translated into, but printed in English, at Copenhagen, with the view of

disseminating a knowledge of its contents among the people of the United

States. Yet we do not recollect that it was noticed at the time of its

publication in any of our critical journals, and the only copy that has

ever fallen under our notice is that now before us, which has been in

our possession many years. Nevertheless, it is the work of a man of very

extensive views, and of deep sagacity. His speculations on the state of

the different kingdoms of Europe, in relation to the past and the

present, seem to us equally just and profound; and the predictions which

ten years ago the author announced to the world, are every day, nay,

almost every hour, becoming matters of history.

It has been said, and said reproachfully, that the people of the United

States are somewhat boastful and presumptuous. One reason doubtless is,

that they have had to bear up on one hand against much obloquy and

injustice, and on the other against certain airs of affected superiority

on the part of the nations of Europe, equally offensive. Those who are

perpetually assailed, are perpetually called upon to defend themselves;

and what in other cases would be an offensive pretension, is, in ours,

simply self-defence. It is not boasting, but a manly assertion of what

is due to ourselves, in reply to those who take from us what is our

right. But even if the charge of national pride were true, we are among

those who rather approve than lament it. National pride is a commendable

and manly feeling; it is the parent of virtue and greatness--the

foundation of a noble character; and if the nation which has led the way

in the bright path of freedom--which, young as it is, has become already

the beacon, the example, the patriarch of the struggling nations of the

world--has not a fair right to be proud, we know not on what basis

national pride ought to erect itself.

For these reasons, we feel no hesitation in calling the attention of the

people of the United States, to a work eminently calculated to awaken

the most lofty anticipations of the destiny which awaits them. Nothing

but good can come of such contemplations of the future. They will serve

to impress upon the nation the necessity of being prepared for such high

destiny; of fitting herself to maintain it with honour and dignity; of

attaching herself, heart and hand, body and soul, to that sacred union

of opinions, interests, and reflections, which alone can lead us

steadily onward in the path of prosperity, happiness, and glory.

"The 4th of July in the year 1776," observes Dr. Von

Schmidt, "points out the commencement of a new period in the

history of the world. Not provoked to resistance by the

intolerable oppression of tyrannical power, but merely

roused by the arbitrary encroachments upon well earned, and

hitherto publicly acknowledged principles, the people of the

United States of North America declared themselves on that

memorable day independent of the dominion of the British

Islands, generally speaking mild and benevolent in itself,

and under which they had hitherto stood as colonies, in a

state, not of slavish servitude, but of partial

guardianship, under the protection of the mother country."

The author has here marked the nice and peculiar feature which

distinguishes the American Revolution from all others, and confers on it

a degree of philosophical dignity. It was not a ferment arising from

momentary impatience of existing and operating hardships; nor the result

of extensive distresses pressing upon a large mass of the nation. When

the people of the United Colonies rose in resistance to the mother

country, they were in possession of a greater portion of all the useful

means of happiness, than the mother country itself. It was not therefore

a revolution originating in the belly, but the head; it was a revolution

brought about by principles, not by distresses. The early emigrants to

the new world, brought these principles with them from England;--every

year added to their strength, and every accession of strength, brought

the crisis nearer to maturity. The annals of each one of the colonies,

exhibit every where evidence of the existence of this leaven of freedom,

which was perpetually rising and agitating the surface; and, although

like the eruption of a volcano, it broke forth at first in one

particular spot, it was only from accidental causes. The whole interior

was equally in a ferment, and the boiling mass must have forced a vent

somewhere, and soon. It had long been evident, that, wherever the

pressure should be greatest, there would be the point of resistance.

That the American revolution, though unquestionably precipitated, was

not produced by a sudden excitement originating in any particular

measure of the British government, we think must appear to all those who

read with attention the early records of our colonial history. As long

ago as the year 1635, representations were made to the government of

England, touching the disloyalty of the people of Massachusetts.

"The Archbishop of Canterbury," says Hutchinson, "the famous

High Churchman Laud, kept a jealous eye over New England.

One Burdett of Piscataqua, was his correspondent. A copy of

a letter to the Archbishop, wrote by Burdett, was found in

his study, and to this effect: 'That he delayed going to

England, that he might freely inform himself of the state of

the place as to _allegiance_, for it was not new discipline

which was aimed at, but _sovereignty_; and that it was

accounted perjury and treason in their general court, to

speak of appeals to the king.'"[4]

But to return to the immediate subject before us. Dr. Von

Schmidt-Phiseldek, after stating the result of this declaration in the

establishment of our independence, proceeds to notice the second war

between the United States and England, in which the former successfully

maintained the positions she had assumed, as the grounds of hostility:--

"By these occurrences," he says, "which we have only

cursorily touched upon, the North American confederacy had

tried her strength, preserved her dignity by the rejection

of illegal pretensions, and vigorously proved and maintained

her right as an active member in the scale of nations, to

take part in the grand affairs of the civilized world. _From

that moment, the impulse to a new change of events, ceased

to proceed exclusively from the old continent, and it is

possible that in a short time it will emanate from the new

one._"

The author then proceeds to deduce the attempts of the South American

Provinces, which, however, at that period, had not been consummated,

from the example of North America, which had inspired them with the

desire of emancipation:--

"This word, as intimating the resistance of a people feeling

themselves at maturity, to their wonted tutelage, and

desirous of taking upon themselves the management of their

own affairs, most suitably expresses the spirit of the

times, _which, being called to light in 1776, has spread

itself over the new and old world_."

Having indicated his belief, that the South American States will acquire

independence, Dr. Von Schmidt-Phiseldck gives it as his opinion, "that

the similitude of their constitutional forms, and an equal interest in

rejecting the European powers, will unite these new states in a close

compact with the North American confederacy; and, if a quarter of a

century only elapsed before North America began to act externally with

vigour, it may be presumed that the younger states of the Southern

Continent, endowed with more ample resources, and more ancient culture,

will require a shorter period to arrive at a state of respectable

force."

Having traced a rapid sketch of the situation and prospects of the new

world, the author next turns his attention to the old governments of

Europe, of which he gives a masterly analysis:--

"The new spirit which had been called to life on the other

side of the Atlantic, and the universal fermentation it

caused, happened at a period in which the most excessive

laxity reigned predominant on the old continent. The

political existence of the people was for the most part

extinguished; their active industry had been directed

abroad, and the governments finding no opposition or

dangerous collisions internally, followed with the stream.

Commerce, exportations, colonial systems, every means of

acquiring money, were cherished and protected,--riches

presenting the only possibility of investing the low with

consideration and influence, and the high with power and

inordinate dominion. The maxims by which the nations were

governed, lay less in the ground pillars of an existing

constitution, than in the changeable systems of the

cabinets, and the character of their rulers; there remained,

for the most part, nothing for the great body of the people,

but to be spectators.

"Germany, the grand heart of Europe, presented now nothing

more than the shadow of a political body united in one

common confederacy; the imperial governments, as also the

administration of the federal laws, were without energy, and

united efforts to repel invasions from abroad, had not been

witnessed since the fear of Turkish power had ceased to

operate. The larger states had outgrown their obedience, and

often ranged themselves in opposition to the head, which was

scarcely able to protect either itself or the weaker states

against injuries.

"The internal affairs of the individual vassal states, were

exclusively conducted according to the will of their

regents; the energy and importance of the representative

popular states, were become dormant, and the standing armies

which had been introduced by degrees even into the smallest

principalities, since the peace of Westphalia, being

perfectly foreign to the hearts and dispositions of the

people, threw an astonishing weight into the scale of

unlimited sovereignty. Being mercenary soldiers recruited

from every nation, modelled upon a system of subordination,

and raised by Frederick of Prussia to the highest pitch of

perfection, they had been accomplices in diffusing this

system of despotism over all the relations of the state,

_and in leaving the people who were freed from military

services, nothing but the acquisition of gain_.

"Agriculture, agreeably to the direction given it, had been

improved, and with a population increased; industry

supported by the progress of the mechanical arts, had also

been considerably extended. But each separate state had its

own little jealous feelings of aggrandisement, its own petty

internal policy, viewing its neighbour with a jealous eye;

and the whole of Germany never reaped any beneficial result

from a system, which, had it been general, would have

conduced highly to the wealth and power of the confederated

states, of which it was composed. All these various

institutions, at the same time that they conflicted with

each other, were reared on loose foundations, and it was

evident must fall together, on the first external

shock,--circumstances like these were incapable of producing

an universal national character. There, where no reciprocal

tie binds the individuals of a state together, who, living

under the equal laws of one community, ought to form one

solid whole, the spirit of the nation loses itself in

different directions; the attainment of individual welfare

is possible in such a state of things, but never will a

sense of what is universally good and great, be promoted.

"If in Germany," proceeds the author, "where the imperial

crown represented a mere shadow, deprived of power and

consequence, the mighty vassals were all; in France the

crown was every thing, after it had subdued the powerful

barons of the country. The people represented, indeed, one

body, but were deprived, like the several German states, of

all political weight, and were arbitrarily subjected to

every impulse of the government. The same was the case with

Spain and Portugal, where religious intolerance more

powerfully suppressed every utterance of contrary opinions,

and every doctrine which might lead to a deviation from the

maxims of the state, so intimately connected with those of

the priesthood. The latter, chained since Methuen's

celebrated treaty, to the monopoly of England from which it

had vainly attempted to free itself under Pombal's

administration, was nearly sunk to the condition of a

British colony working its gold mines in the Brazils for the

benefit of the proud islanders.

"Italy, parcelled out amongst different powers, presented

upon the whole, the same political aspect as Germany, only

with this difference, that it was totally divested of the

shadow of unity, which the latter at least appeared to

present. Upper, and a great part of middle Italy, being

dismembered, were entirely subservient to foreign impulse.

The lower part, with the fertile island on the other side of

the Pharos, presented, to be sure, since 1735, the outward

appearance of one national whole, but was too weak to

withstand the fate of the more powerful Bourbon families,

from which, according to treaties, it had derived its

sovereigns. There reigned in the papal state alone, which

could not derive its weight from its worldly sovereignty,

but from the spiritual supremacy of its ruler, the ancient

maxims of the Romish pontificate, with the economical state

faults of a clerical government. But the consideration and

the power of the former were visibly sunk; the journeys of

the pope of that period to Vienna, were like the

contemporary ones of the Hierarch of Thibet to China, rather

prejudicial, than favourable to spiritual dignity; and the

faulty internal administration of the state seemed to invite

every attempt at innovation. The republics on the east and

the west of the Adriatic Gulf, were, since the rise of the

other great naval states, only the ruins of past glory,

sinking daily into insignificance. But notwithstanding this,

neither was the image of former greatness blotted from their

memories, nor a proper feeling for it extinguished in the

minds of the inhabitants of the luxuriant peninsula. The

pride of the more noble, fed itself on the sublime remains

of lionian antiquity; and the monuments of the golden age of

the family of Medicis indemnified a people given to the

arts, and full of imagination for the loss of present

grandeur, and kept up a lively anticipation of a better

futurity, founded on the merits of its ancestors.

"Helvetia, hemmed in between Italy, Germany, and France, by

its mountains, continued in the peaceable enjoyment of its

liberties through the respect its venerable age had

universally diffused. Nevertheless, the disturbances at

Geneva, and the increased spirit of emigration, were

sufficient to indicate that a people who become indifferent

to the present order of things, would willingly have

recourse to a system of innovation, and that the ancient

ties which had held the Swiss nation so many centuries

together, were gradually relaxing.

"The dissolution of the existing form of government, in the

north-western Netherlands, which ought never to have been

separated from the German corporation, was more visibly

approaching. The unwieldiness of their disorganized union

had no remedy to administer to the decline of their

commerce, and naval power, which became more and more felt,

being a natural consequence of the daily concentration of

the larger states; and it was evident that the fate of the

republic would be decided by a blow from abroad.

"The British islands, at that time the only country in

Europe which united under a monarchical head, moderate, but

on that account more solid principles of freedom, with an

equal balance of the different powers of the state, were at

the commencement of the American disturbances in a

progressive state of the most flourishing prosperity. For

this happy condition they were indebted to their freedom and

eligible commercial situation, together with the

inexhaustible treasures nature had deposited in their mines

of coal and iron, on the existence of which the industry of

their diligent inhabitants is principally founded. Political

ebullition existed in no higher degree than was necessary to

give proper life, and less, perhaps, than was necessary to

preserve it in all its purity, a constitution which, long

since acquired after the most bloody struggles, was more

deeply rooted in the modes of thinking, and in the manners

and customs of the nation, than it was imprinted on them by

the letter of the law. The government had sufficient leisure

to direct its attention abroad, and by means of hostile

enterprises, and political treaties, which must sooner or

later give a naval power a decided ascendency, held out a

helping hand to the commercial spirit of the people who

aimed at making (and with increasing hopes of success) the

remainder of the world tributary to it, for the productions

of its fabrics and manufactures.

"The plan of supporting commerce upon territorial

acquisitions, and of forming an empire out of the conquered

provinces of India, whose treasures should flow back to the

queen of cities on the Thames, was already fully developed,

and the exasperation against the western colonies was to be

attributed as much to a mistaken commercial interest as to a

spirit for dominion. The ingredients of the British national

character, ever more coldly repulsive than amiable or

attractive in its nature, had produced an almost universal

antipathy not alone of the public mind, but also of the

individual affections, against a people in so many points of

view so highly respectable, and being unceasingly fed by

that envy which every species of superiority involuntarily

creates, produced the most conspicuous influence in the

development of subsequent events."

The author then proceeds to notice the proceedings of Russia, Austria,

and Prussia, in relation to Poland, until its final dismemberment in

1795:--

"It is unnecessary," he says in conclusion, "to give a

further exposition of the leading principles of the three

courts which began this work of annihilation, and still

persevered in it, contrary to the solemn stipulations of

treaties lately entered into, just at the moment when a new

constitution, enthusiastically received, had offered every

guaranty of security, the want of which had served to give

an air of legitimacy to the first spoliations. External

aggrandisement in the acquisition of territory and

population, and internal considerations, so far as they

afforded means of attaining the object in view, are, in

short, the features of these unnatural principles. This

economical digestion of an administration merely of things,

not persons, may be termed excellent in its kind. Taken in

this point of view, the Prussian government gave the most

splendid proofs of the beneficial results which may be

attained by military organization. Austria and Russia had

followed this example; _and it required later events to

prove, that the calculation is not always correct, that a

standing army, forming a state within the state, is the only

support and rallying point of a government, and that no

system is safe, but that which is founded on the internal

strength and unanimity of the people_."

Having sketched the political situation of Europe, at the commencement

of the American revolution, the author proceeds to notice the

interference of France and Spain;--the situation in which the colonies

of North America were left after the acknowledgment of their

independence;--the adoption of the new constitution;--the extraordinary

prosperity which followed;--the immense acquisitions of territory, and

the accession of wealth and numbers. He then traces the effects produced

in Europe, and most especially in France, by a participation in the

struggle between England and her colonies, and the contemplation of

their subsequent prosperity and happiness. The spirit of emancipation

was caught from the new, and was fast spreading itself over the old

world. This spirit first produced its practical effects in France,

whence it reached England, and almost all the states on the continent of

Europe, begetting a revolution of ideas at least, if not leading to the

revolution of governments, as it did in France.

The spirit of conquest which was perhaps forced upon France, by the

necessity of giving to the enemies of the new order of things,

employment at home, in order to prevent their interference abroad, was

fatal to the beneficial results of the revolution. The rapid conquests

achieved by Napoleon, drew the eyes and hearts of a people fond of

glory, and full of a military spirit, from their internal affairs, to

foreign conquests; and, while they were subduing a world, they were

themselves subdued by the same power. Then came the empire of Napoleon;

the confederacy of nations,--not merely of kings and their armies, but

of nations, instigated partly by their own wrongs, and partly by the

promises of their rulers, to rise in mass, and do what neither their

kings nor their armies had been able to perform. It was the people of

Europe that at length overthrew Napoleon.

When, after this great event, it became necessary to reorganize Europe,

which had been cast from its ancient moorings, by the gigantic power,

and gigantic mind of the child of democracy, who had devoured his

mother, there arose a schism between the people and their sovereigns.

The former expected the fulfilment of those promises, which the latter

had made in the hour of extreme peril, in order to rouse them to

effectual resistance against the French. These promises in Germany,

Prussia, the Netherlands, &c. consisted principally in the establishment

of representative governments, which would leave the sovereign in

possession of a hereditary power, checked by a body elected by the

people. On the other hand, the sovereigns, unmindful of the preservation

of their thrones, which they owed to _the people_, refused to fulfil

their solemn stipulations. In the hour of success, they as usual forgot

the hour of adversity, and insisted upon the unconditional

re-establishment, if not of old boundaries, at least of the old

political regime. Hence we may trace the origin of what is called

seriously by some, in derision and scorn by others, _the Holy Alliance_,

which originated in the fears and the weakness of kings, who, being

unable to maintain singly their antiquated pretensions at home, sought

in a close union of policy and interests, the means of doing that, which

each one alone was inadequate to achieve. By this alliance, Europe was

dismembered--millions of acres, and millions of people, were parcelled

out among the different sovereigns, and the balance of Europe was either

believed, or affected to be believed, restored by placing whole nations

under a dominion which they abhorred. It is obvious that such an

unnatural state of things could endure only while cemented by a mutual

fear of the powers which had constituted it; which fear would subside

immediately, or very soon after the dissolution of the great

confederacy. A large portion of Europe had been fermenting for nearly

fifteen years, under the oppressions of this union of despots, and the

moment of its separation, would naturally be that of the downfall of the

system they had attempted to impose on mankind. But we are anticipating

our brief analysis of the work before us:--

"After twenty-three years of blood and revolution,"

continues the author, "Louis was again seated on the throne

of his forefathers, and the principles of monarchy seemed

firmly established in Europe. But the principle of

government was in reality no longer the old one, and the

spirit of the relation in which the ruled stood to the

rulers, although it had not yet been brought to light in

visible forms, and specified limits, was materially changed.

Mutual struggles of kings and their people against foreign

aggression, and mutual sufferings in consequence of the

division between the people and their rulers, the latter of

whom owed esteem and acknowledgment for services rendered by

the former, laid the foundation of a relation between them

mutually more honourable. For centuries, indeed, the

monarchs of Europe had not been identified and interwoven

with their people; nor had they shared as now, the

privations and humiliations, the domestic and public

calamities, of the nations they governed; nor had they

fought by their sides, and conquered by their efforts, as

they had lately done in the late stormy period of the

world."

Mutual suffering had taught them to feel a community of interests they

had not before recognised. Calamity brings all ranks to a level, and the

monarch exiled from his throne, can sympathise with the peasant driven

from his hovel.

In this state of feelings, one would suppose Europe might have reposed

in peace. But the elements of internal discord, lay buried deeply in her

bosom, and the internal relations of the different powers had been so

altered, as to present ample materials for dissension abroad. With the

necessity of appealing to the patriotism of their people, by promises of

privileges and immunities, expired the disposition to comply with them.

This breach of faith, produced on one hand indignation and discontent,

on the other, jealousy and apprehension. The discontents of the people,

caused their rulers to depend more on the support of their standing

armies, than on the attachment of their subjects, and these armies were

accordingly augmented to such an extent, that the unfortunate people

were at length impoverished by the very means used in enslaving them. At

this moment, nearly the whole of Europe, including the British islands,

constitutes a mass of military governments. Every where the civil power

is inadequate to the preservation of order, the enforcement of obedience

to the king and the laws, and every where a standing army under some

form or other presides over the opinions and actions of the people.

Hence results the curious and ominous, not to say awful spectacle of the

rights of property at the mercy of a mob; and on the other hand, the

rights of person, the liberties of the citizen, subject to the arbitrary

domination of the bayonet. At this moment, such is the state of every

monarchy in Europe.

Such a juxtaposition of kings and their people, must of necessity

alienate them from each other every day; and thus by degrees, the

feeling of loyalty towards the one, and of parental affection towards

the other, will be finally extinguished in mutual fears and mutual

injuries, that will for ever disturb their repose, until the people are

either perfectly satisfied, or totally subdued.

Another fruitful source of the discontents now agitating all Europe, is

the state of the labouring classes, not only manufacturing but

agricultural. The means of producing the necessaries and luxuries of

life have been multiplied by the increase of paper capital and

artificial expedients, until the supply exceeds the demand, and the

price of labour, even where labour can be procured, bears no proportion

to the price of bread. During fifteen years of peace, America and Europe

have augmented their powers of supplying their own wants and those of

the rest of the world, by means of improvements in arts, sciences,

machinery, &c., to an extent which cannot be estimated. The whole world

is glutted with the products of machinery, and exactly in the proportion

that these increase upon us, is the increase of the poverty of the

labouring classes. Millions of people in Europe, the largest proportion

of whom are inhabitants of the richest country in the world, and one

producing the greatest quantity of the results of industry, want bread,

because they either have no employment, or their wages will not obtain

it for them. Let political economists reason as they will, this is the

state of the labouring classes of Europe, and this state is aggravated

precisely in the proportion that the facility of supplying the

necessities and luxuries of life by artificial means is increased.

The cause of this singular state of things to us is sufficiently

obvious. The powers of wealth, the force of example, opinion, authority,

laws, of every concentrated influence that can be brought to bear upon

human affairs, have, all combined, been directed to a reduction of the

price of labour, and consequently to diminishing the consumption of the

products of human industry; for the great mass of mankind have nothing

but the fruits of their labour to offer in exchange for those products

which are necessary to their subsistence and comfort. In vain may it be

urged, as we have seen it done repeatedly, and most especially in an

address of a clergyman of England to the labouring classes of that

country--in vain may it be urged, that the decrease of the price of

labour has been met by a corresponding decrease in the price of the

necessaries of life, and that, therefore, the labouring classes are no

worse off, nay better off, than before the vast increase of machinery

either threw them out of employment, or forced them to labour for almost

nothing. This comfortable gentleman, who, we understand, has a good fat

living, and will probably be made a bishop if he can only stop the

mouths of the sufferers with reasons instead of bread, asks these poor

people if they don't get their hats, shoes, &c. one half cheaper in

consequence of the perfection of machinery, the improvements of the

arts, &c. But he takes care not to ask them if the difficulty of earning

this half price is not increased in a much greater proportion, in

consequence of the diminution of their wages, and whether bread, meat,

beer, and all the essentials of human existence, are not enhanced rather

than diminished in price. We could illustrate the theory of the reverend

gentleman, by an honest matter of fact story, which we can vouch for, as

it happened to a near relative of ours.

He had a gardener named Dennis, an honest fellow, full of simplicity,

and a dear lover of Old Ireland, as all Irishmen are, at home or abroad.

One day he was dilating with much satisfaction on the difference between

the price of potatoes in this country and Ireland. "In Ireland, your

honour, now I could git more nor a barrel of potatoes for a pishtareen,

but here it costs as much as a dollar and a half." The gentleman asked

him good naturedly why he did not remain where potatoes were so cheap.

Dennis considered a moment, and answered with the characteristic

frankness of his country--"why to tell your honour the honest truth,

though the potatoes were so cheap, I never could get the pishtareen to

buy them."

Here is the solution of the whole enigma. Every thing is cheap we will

say; but labour, which is the only equivalent a large mass of mankind

have to offer for every thing, is cheaper than all. Evident, as we think

this will appear, still it seems to have no influence on those who

govern mankind. And how should it? Their emoluments, their means of

expenditure, are derived, not from their own physical labour, but the

labours of others. The cheaper they can procure this, the deeper they

can revel in luxuries. With them, the relative proportion between the

remuneration of toil, and the means of living is nothing. Hence the

rulers of nations, hence capitalists, and all the brood of monopolists,

are stirring their energies abroad, to increase the supply of the

products of labour, at the same time that they take from the labourer

the due rewards of his labours, and thus prevent the consumption of the

vast accession of manufactures, &c. occasioned by the increase and

perfection of machinery. Inanimate powers are daily substituted for

human hands, and productions continue to multiply in an equal ratio.

This is a benefit to a single nation, while it possesses all the

advantages of superiority, and is enabled to supply a portion of the

rest of the world. But when other nations, as is the case now, adopt the

same system, and avail themselves of the same means of supply, a glut

takes place in the market, at home and abroad, and poverty and distress

among the labourers are the inevitable consequence.

Such seem to us the principal elements of combustion now at work in

Europe. Political disgust, and physical distresses are co-operating with

each other, and in order to quiet these disturbances, it is not only

necessary to give them more liberty, but more bread. But to return once

more to the speculations of our author,--

"If we turn our view to the present state of agriculture,"

continues Dr. Von Schmidt, "in many countries of Europe, it

will appear evident, that even the paternal soil in many

districts, is becoming too confined to afford nourishment to

those who have remained faithful to its bosom. If in the

mountainous countries, as for example, in the west and south

of France, on the Alps, and along the Rhine, every spot is

occupied, and the very earth and manure have for centuries

been carried aloft upon the naked rock attended with the

most boundless labour, in order to furnish soil for the

vine, the olive, and for the different species of cerelia,

and at present no further room exists for a more extended

cultivation; it is not possible for a more numerous growing

generation to find nourishment in these districts, whose

productions are not susceptible of increasing progression.

The too frequent practice of parcelling out common lands,

and large estates, originally beneficial in itself, has

produced similar consequences in other states. It was

undoubtedly a wise and humane plan to transform commons, and

extensive pastures into fruitful fields, and by dividing

large estates which their owners could not overlook, into

smaller lots, thus ensure more abundant crops, and an

increasing population, by a more careful cultivation. But

if, as is the case at the present day, in many places,

useful lands have been split into so many small independent

possessions, as to render it hardly possible for families

occupying them, to subsist in the most penurious manner, by

cultivating them; whence, then, is sustenance to be obtained

for their more numerous posterity, and from what source is

the state to derive its taxes? It is evident, that this

condition of things must lead to the most poignant distress,

and that a breadless multitude, either driven by

irretrievable debts from their paternal huts, or voluntarily

forsaking them on account of an inadequate maintenance, will

turn their backs upon their country; and it may be

considered a fortunate resource if they, as has frequently

occurred in later times, carry with them the vigour of their

strength to the free states of America, which stand in need

of no one thing but human hands, to raise them to the

highest degree of prosperity. Those governments in which

such an unnatural distension of the state of society

prevails, ought not, most assuredly, for their own

advantage, and for the sake of humanity, by any means to

throw obstacles in the way, but rather favour such

emigration, and render it easy and consolatory for all,

since they have it not in their power to offer a better

remedy for their present misery. By doing this, they will

prevent dangerous ebullitions and unruly disaffections of a

distressed and overgrown population; they will lighten the

number of poor which is increasing to a most alarming

extent, and put an end to that angry state of abjectness and

misery which is felt by every honest heart, and under which

thousands have sunk down, who, with numerous families in

hovels of wretchedness, prolong their existence upon more

scanty means than the most common domestic animals, and who

appear only to be gifted with reason in order to be more

sensible to their forlorn and pitiable fate."