Chapter VII: Front Matter (7)

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.