fourteen hundred and thirty millions of dollars, making no allowance for
the accumulation of capital by annual reinvestment, nor for the natural
increase of population, amounting, by the census, in ten years, to about
24 per cent. This addition to our wealth by the labor of the children,
in the first ten years, would be small; but in the second, and each
succeeding decennium, when we count children and their descendants, it
would be large and constantly augmenting. But the census shows that our
wealth increases each ten years at the rate of 126.45 per cent. Now,
then, take our increase of wealth in consequence of immigration as
before stated, and compound it at the rate of 126.45 per cent, every ten
years, and the result is largely over three billions of dollars in 1870,
and over seven billions of dollars in 1880, independent of the effect of
any immigration succeeding 1860. If these results are astonishing, we
must remember that immigration here is augmented population, and that it
is population and labor that create wealth. Capital, indeed, is the
accumulation of labor. Immigration, then, from 1850 to 1860, added to
our national wealth a sum more than one third greater than our whole
debt on the 1st of July last, and augmenting in a ratio much more rapid
than its increase, and thus enabling us to bear the war expenses.
As the homestead privilege must largely increase immigration, and add
especially to the cultivation of our soil, it will contribute more than
any other measure to increase our population, wealth, and power, and
augment out revenue from duties and taxes.
We have seen that, by the Census (p. 195), the total value of the real
and personal estate in the United States was, in--
1860, $16,159,616,068
1850, 7,135,780,228
Increase from 1850 to 1860, 126.45 per cent.
At the same rate of increase, for the four succeeding decades, the
result would be, in--
1870, $36,593,450,585
1880, 82,865,868,849
1890, 187,314,353,225
1900, 423,330,438,288
If we subtract one fourth from the aggregate, we will find that our
public debt constitutes less than _one half of one per cent._ of the
_increase_ of our national wealth. This debt, then, does not exhaust our
capital, but effects only a small diminution of the rate of
augmentation.
If we look at the causes of this vast increase of our national wealth,
they will be found mainly in the enormous extent of our fertile lands,
the vast emigration from Europe, and the constant addition of new States
to the Union. Thus, from 1850 to 1860, four new States were added to the
Union. These four States were almost an untrodden wilderness in 1850,
but in 1860 were rich and flourishing States, with a population of
638,965, and an aggregate wealth of $331,809,418. Within this decade,
from 1860 to 1870, at least six new States will be added to the Union.
This is evident from a reference to our present Territories, as follows:
Dacotah, 95,316,480 acres.
Nebraska, 48,636,800 "
Indian, 56,924,000 "
Idaho, 208,878,720 "
Washington, 44,796,160 "
Nevada, 52,184,960 "
Utah, 68,084,480 "
Arizona, 80,730,240 "
New Mexico, 77,568,640 "
Colorado, 66,880,000 "
-----------
Total, 800,000,480 acres.
Here then are Territories with an aggregate area of 800,000,480 acres,
sufficient for twenty-six States of the size of New York. In all these
Territories but one, the precious metals are found in great abundance,
and the railroad to the Pacific, with numerous branches through this
vast region, together with the greatest advantages of our new Homestead
Bill of last year, is settling these Territories with unprecedented
rapidity. Notwithstanding the war, immigration to the United States is
progressing with more than its usual volume, caused by the very high
wages for labor, the great benefits of our recent Homestead Bill, and
the exclusion, by recent act of Congress, of slavery from all this vast
domain.
It will be observed, that, whilst the _lands_ constituting these
Territories remain _public_ lands, no estimate is made of them as wealth
in the national census. It is only when these public lands become farms
and private property, that they are valued as part of the wealth of the
nation. This remark also applies to that 255,000,000 acres of public
lands in the sixteen _Land States_ of the Union. Hence the amazing
increase of wealth at each decade, in the new States and Territories.
Thus, by Table 35 of the Census of 1860, page 195, the rate of increase
of wealth in the following States and Territories, from 1850 to 1860,
was:
_Territories._
Washington, 5,000 per cent.
Nebraska, 4,800 "
Utah, 467 "
New Mexico, 302 "
_States._
Kansas, 8,000 per cent.
Iowa, 942 "
California, 837 "
Minnesota, 6,000 "
Michigan, 330 "
Oregon, 471 per cent.
Illinois, 457 "
Wisconsin, 550 "
It is thus that the wave of population moves onward in our Western
States and Territories, that the axe and the plough are the pioneers of
civilization, that farms, cities, and villages, the schoolhouse, and the
church, rise from the wilderness, as if by the touch of an enchanter's
wand. That enchantment is the power of _freedom and education_, the
effect of which (as compared with the deadly influence of slavery and
ignorance) shall be illustrated in a succeeding letter. In that letter,
by comparing the relative progress of our Free and Slave States, as
demonstrated by our Census, it will be proved, incontestably, that the
total exclusion of slavery from our Union will cause an addition to our
national wealth vastly exceeding the whole public debt of our country,
and soon leave us much richer than before the rebellion.
R. J. WALKER.
THE DECLINE OF ENGLAND.
In Europe, two nations for almost a thousand years have contended for
empire. England and France, for the greater portion of that period, have
waged war with each other. When not engaged in actual hostilities, they
have watched each other with jealous animosity--seeking by intrigue and
diplomatic schemes to thwart or defeat the designs which one or the
other had formed for national aggrandizement.
No one of Anglo-Saxon descent can peruse the histories of those
countries, and not feel pride in the valor and success which have
distinguished his race. Twice the victorious banner of England has
fluttered in the gaze of Paris. Until a recent age, the French flag
visited the ocean only at the sufferance of England.
Whatever may be thought of the wisdom of the continental policy of
England since 1688--in pursuance of which she has persistently sought to
defeat the ambition of France--no one can help admiring the ability and
indomitable courage she has displayed in the gratification of her
national antipathy. From the League of Augsburg, of 1687, to which she
became a party, to the Treaty of Utrecht, in 1713, she put forth
herculean efforts to compel the relinquishment of the family compact by
Louis XIV. By that treaty, the darling project of that monarch to secure
the crown of Spain for a Bourbon, was forever abandoned by France.
Elated with this triumph over her adversary, throughout the eighteenth
century England continued to pursue the same policy of checking and
defeating all the schemes of France for territorial acquisition. It
mattered not where; in whatever quarter of the globe France sought to
plant her standard, she always found there an English enemy. In Asia,
Africa, and America, as well as in Europe, all her attempts to extend
her empire were defeated by England. Pondicherry was the only East
Indian possession which the genius of Clive allowed her to retain. By
the Treaty of Paris, of 1763, she was compelled to relinquish Canada in
order to regain her West Indian islands conquered by England.[4]
Vainly, under good or bad, weak or potent sovereigns, did France
attempt the enlargement of her empire or an increase of national power.
England, on one pretence or another, always confronted her, and by
successful war, or unscrupulous diplomacy, baffled her designs.
The English mind was cultivated throughout the eighteenth century into
the belief that every accession to France was a menace and an injury to
England.
At last the French Revolution, inspiring with preternatural energy that
gallant people, turned the tide of events so long adverse to French
aggrandizement. Still true to her hereditary hostility, England combined
all Europe to resist the aggression of republican France. But soon, from
the raging elements of that awful convulsion, the 'Man of Destiny'
arose, who could 'ride the whirlwind and direct the storm.' He seized
the helm, evoked order from chaos, and smote the enemies of France
wherever they appeared, revived the splendors of her early history, and,
like her mediæval Charlemagne, gave the law to Europe.
England took the measure of Napoleon, and recognized in him an enemy
whom she must subdue at any cost, or submit to be reduced in the scale
of nations to that importance and those proportions befitting her
diminutive territory in Europe.
The battle of Marengo--the Peace of Luneville--the ascendency of
Napoleon on the continent--the defection of the continental allies of
England--and the preparations of Napoleon for her invasion, led to the
Treaty of Amiens.
That treaty, however, was only a brief truce, which England never
designed to observe but temporarily. She refused to respect its
obligations, and even to negotiate for its modification. She feared that
peace would enable Napoleon to rebuild his shattered navy.
Lord Hawkesbury's note of March 15th, 1803, assigned as her avowed
reason for the renewal of the war--'the acquisition made by France in
various quarters, particularly in Italy, and therefore England would be
justified in claiming equivalents for these acquisitions as a
counterpoise to the augmentation of the power of France.'[5]
This note of Lord Hawkesbury avows distinctly the spirit of the foreign
policy of England for the last two hundred years. She would not tolerate
any acquisition by her rival unless she obtained 'equivalents.' In
pursuance of this unchangeable policy, she again declared war against
France. Mr. Pitt resumed his position of prime minister, and soon formed
a new continental coalition to resist the mighty power and the
aggressions of the French emperor.
Thenceforward she listened to no overtures for peace, but prosecuted
with implacable resentment the war--until she finally prostrated her
imperial foe, and became his inglorious jailer, until death relieved her
from all apprehensions of danger.
But this triumph of a vindictive policy, so gratifying to the national
antipathy, was purchased at a price perhaps far exceeding its value.
The overthrow of Napoleon was an achievement which compelled England to
anticipate the resources of future generations. These generations have
come, and are coming, and they find themselves unable any longer to
contend with French ambition.
The first Napoleon, whom England fought with such relentless animosity,
won his throne by the display of matchless ability in the field and the
cabinet. The present Napoleon reached _his_ throne by perjury,
assassination, and crimes of the blackest atrocity. The first Napoleon
England pursued with her hatred to his grave. The present Napoleon,
reeking with the blood of his unarmed fellow citizens, kisses the queen
of England, and the _entente cordial_ with him becomes the foreign
policy of England. Entangled in his toils, she makes war on Russia as
his ally, stands silently while he humbles Austria and changes the map
of Europe, and barely escapes by an afterthought being dragged into an
attempt to destroy a free republic in America, to enable France to
augment the area for the expansion of the Latin race at the expense of
that of the Anglo-Saxon.
What would the great Chatham and his son--who so long moulded the
destiny of Europe--say, if they could revisit the earth and peruse the
history of their country for the last twelve years? Would they recognize
her as that England who in their hands smote the house of Bourbon, and
inaugurated the policy which led to the overthrow of the greatest
captain who ever tormented with his lust for glory the human race?
Certainly, in all the wars which England waged against the house of
Bourbon, France never attempted a conquest of greater value than that
which the present Napoleon has commenced in Mexico. Certainly, no
conquest which the first Napoleon ever threatened in Europe would have
so strengthened France as would the annexation of Mexico to her
dominions. But England has expended in her wars with the first Napoleon,
to restrain him from acquisitions which could not have materially
injured England, all her resources for war. She is not in the condition
to wage such wars with France as she prosecuted during the last and the
beginning of the present century. She knows that she must acquiesce in
the ambitious acquisitions of the present Napoleon, or else encounter
his hostility. Cherbourg and the steam navy of France render an invasion
of the British Isles a more practicable achievement for the present
Napoleon than ever the first Napoleon could hope for. England shrinks,
therefore, from any effort to curb the present aggrandizement of France,
from _fear_. She ignominiously renounces and abandons the policy of her
monarchy, her aristocracy, and her people--pursued for two hundred years
with unfaltering pertinacity; not because she condemns it, not because
she does not feel 'justified' in resisting French acquisitions unless
'equivalents for these acquisitions as a counterpoise to the
augmentation of the power of France' are obtained; but obviously,
because she fears to encounter the arms of the present Napoleon.
When the French emperor forced upon the acceptance of Lord Aberdeen's
cabinet 'the harsh and insulting scheme of action' (as Kinglake calls
it) which provoked the war with Russia in 1854, England's dilemma was: a
war with Nicholas, or a rupture with France. 'The negotiation which had
seemed to be almost ripe for a settlement was then ruined.'[6]
A war for Napoleon at that time with one of the great powers, was a
necessity. It was necessary for the stability of his throne. It was
necessary to prevent the thoughts of France from dwelling upon the
assassination of the republic and her own infamy in submitting to that
enormous villany. If it had not been Russia, it would have been England
that the imperial usurper would have denounced as disturbing the waters
for his provocation.
Mellowed by time, and enlightened by their deplorable results, England
now views the wars with Napoleon the First in their true light. So far
from British power having been augmented by that tremendous struggle, it
has compelled England to descend from the position of a first-rate to
that of a second-rate power, so far as it concerns the politics of
Europe. Had the first Napoleon survived to this day, she would hardly
have consented to act with the same subserviency to him as she now
voluntarily acts toward his ignoble counterfeit. She would never have
stood an idle spectator of the humiliation of Austria by him. She would
never have permitted him to betray her into the causeless and ridiculous
war with her ancient ally Russia. It was the aid of Russia which
enabled her to overthrow the great Napoleon, and now she permits the
little Napoleon to bully her into a war with Russia that he may bedizen
his name with the glory of a conflict with the conqueror of his
illustrious kinsman.
If the object of Napoleon was so ignominious, contemptible, and
criminal, as we know it to have been, in producing the war of 1854, with
what obloquy must England be covered for allowing herself to be beguiled
into such a war by such a juggler?
The pretended cause of the Crimean war, as alleged, was the threatened
invasion of Turkey by Nicholas. But what injury was _that_ to England,
compared to the seizure of Mexico by France?
England had not for two hundred years made it the chief object of her
foreign policy to resist the expansion of the Russian empire. She had
acquiesced in the partition of Poland, and by the Treaty of Vienna made
herself a party to that nefarious spoliation by Russia, Austria, and
Prussia. She knew that Austria, Prussia, and the German Confederation
were pledged to protect Turkey from Russia.[7] Her subserviency to
France in separately with her making war on Russia, upon the pretence of
the protection of Turkey, was supererogatory as well as needless.
The truth is, and so will history make up the record, the French emperor
desired to humiliate England, and England dare not refuse to be
humiliated by him. It was a 'GREAT SURRENDER.'[8]
It will not do for England to excuse herself for not resisting the
French invasion of Mexico by any such allegation as that she has
received Napoleon's assurances that he does not intend to make a French
province of Mexico. She must know, that no confidence can be placed in
his veracity. She must know, that such assurances are but a flimsy veil
to deceive her and other nations. They are designed to meet the
contingency--of Federal success in crushing rebellion.
He has been willing to be fooled by those who surround him, into the
belief that the rebels will achieve their independence.[9] In that
event, he will never relinquish his grasp on Mexico, unless compelled to
do so by force of arms. Should the rebellion succeed, as he professes to
believe it will, his instrument and accomplice, Maximilian, will be
discarded with as little ceremony as the first Napoleon discarded some
of the puppet kings whom he saw proper to crown and discrown according
to the exigency of his occasions.
The treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle (1748) terminated one of the wars of
England with Louis XIV. The renunciation by France of the cause of the
Pretender was the most material advantage accruing to England from that
treaty. But the ink was hardly dry with which it was written, before
England took umbrage at France for efforts to rebuild her navy, which
had been seriously reduced and crippled by the events of the previous
war, and also for the encroachments of the French in Canada on the
English settlements. For these causes the Seven Years' War was
commenced, and, under the auspices of the first William Pitt,
successfully prosecuted, until France was completely humbled. Now,
however, Napoleon the Third constructs a navy more powerful than France
ever before possessed, and, instead of molesting some obscure English
settlement in the interior of America, appropriates to himself a great
country, fertile in resources, with mines of incalculable wealth, and in
close proximity to English colonies, cherished by the most vigilant
protection of England.
The value of Mexico is thus portrayed by the British historian Alison
(vol. iv., p. 423):
'Humboldt has told us that he was never wearied with astonishment
at the smallness of the portion of soil which, in Mexico and the
adjoining provinces, would yield sustenance to a family for a year:
and that the same extent of ground which in wheat would maintain
only two persons, would yield sustenance under the banana to fifty;
though in that favored region the return of wheat is never under
seventy, sometimes as much as a hundred fold. The return on an
average of Great Britain is not more than nine to one. If due
weight be given to these extraordinary facts, it will not appear
extravagant to assert that Mexico, with a territory embracing seven
times the whole area of France, may at some future and possibly not
remote period contain two hundred millions of inhabitants.'
This is the magnificent empire which France now seeks to conquer,
without a murmur of remonstrance from Great Britain, who so often
combined Europe to resist the petty acquisition by France of territory
less than one of the Mexican States.
It is needless to say that England relies on the United States to
prevent Mexico becoming a French province. Her statesmen have for the
past two years professed the belief that the dismemberment of the United
States is inevitable. In that event, they must know that the United
States would prove no obstacle to the occupation of Mexico by France.
No; the acquiescence of England in this gigantic acquisition of France
can be ascribed to no such assurance of the power of the United States.
It may be said that she has flattered herself that by letting alone
Napoleon, he may possibly, by an alliance with the rebels, secure the
permanent dissolution of the American Union;--that the United States, if
successful in crushing the rebellion, would be to her a greater terror
than Napoleon. We do not believe that she is influenced by such
considerations. She knows that the United States, however powerful by
the recent development of military strength, would hardly attempt the
invasion of the British Islands. But she has no such faith in her crafty
neighbor. She knows that France and the Bonapartes owe her a debt of
vengeance which only the ravage and desolation of the British soil will
ever liquidate. She remembers that the favorite scheme of Napoleon the
First was the invasion of England; and she knows that this scheme is
among the _Idées Napoléon_ of the nephew. She is aware, too, that
Napoleon the Third has the means at his command which will enable him to
place any number of troops on her shores. She is satisfied that upon the
first provocation which she offers, he will gratify the treasured hatred
of the French and of his family, by consummating the darling project of
his uncle. The terror of invasion has induced her to change the nature
of her foreign policy. She will cling to the French alliance until the
French emperor has satiated his national craving for her degradation;
and not until he strikes her a blow, which will resound throughout the
world, will England be prepared to battle with the Gaul. No future
accession of territory would make France more formidable for the
invasion of England than she is now. Her army of five hundred thousand
men, and her steam navy and ironclads are all-sufficient for that
purpose, whenever the French emperor chooses so to employ them. But if
Napoleon devotes this army and that navy to such a formidable conquest
as that of a country seven times as large as France, three thousand
miles from her shores, it is not probable that he will soon be able to
spare them for the invasion of Great Britain. Spain vainly struggled for
years to conquer her revolted provinces in America. England failed to
conquer her rebellious colonies, with a population not exceeding three
millions. France lost an army of thirty-five thousand men, veterans of
Moreau's, in the vain effort to subdue the negroes of St. Domingo.
England could desire no better scheme for the destruction of the
military strength of Napoleon than that of the attempted conquest of
Mexico. She will therefore rather stimulate than restrain the second
French emperor in his desire to devote his legions to the enlargement of
the area for the supremacy of the Latin race in America. Her motive will
be the despicable safety of her shores from Gallic invasion. For this
she sacrifices her prestige in the world--her hereditary policy--the
time-honored traditions of the Anglo-Saxon. The world hereafter is free
to the Frenchman, for robbery, spoliation, conquest, and invasion,
wherever else than in England he chooses to prosecute the vocation of
national crime. England is no longer the foe of French ambition or
rapacity. So long as France will abstain from the invasion of the
'inviolate isle,' where for almost a thousand years no foreign enemy has
placed his foot, so long she may be free from molestation from England,
whatever else she may attempt; and this is the inglorious policy of
England in the year of our Lord 1862-'3.
TEMPTATION.
[A literal translation of this remarkable prose-poem was kindly
placed in our hands by Prof. Podbielski. It is allegorical
throughout, every phase of its marvellous symbolism resting upon
dire and tragic truth.
The many times murdered Mother is of course Poland. We hope that
the publication of this prophetic vision of her great son, patriot,
poet, statesman, and sage, as he undoubtedly was, may excite a
vivid interest at the present hour, when that heroic but unhappy
country is again struggling for life and freedom.
In its present English form, 'Temptation' is reverently dedicated
to the patriot sons of the Mother of heroes, by MARTHA W.
COOK.]