Tin: 
 
 REMAINS 
 
 OF 
 
 MAYNARD DAVIS RICHARDSON. 
 
 X 
 
 WITH A 
 
 JMEMOIR OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 Charleston, s. <r . 
 
 PUBLISHED BY O. A. ROORBACK. 
 
 FRI5TRD HY J. 8. BUROES. 
 
 1833. 
 
TO 
 
 Thf Family, the Relatives and the Friends, 
 of the late MAYKARD D. RICHARDSON, these 
 Remains and this Memoir, arc respectfully in- 
 scribed by 
 
 THE COMPILER. 
 
 May 22. 
 
 495 
 
[Nor c. The editor haa ventured upon the publication of two little perform 
 ances in thu collection, a* thoae of Mr. Richardson, without being altogether 
 attired of tleir parent ge. They occur among lu papent without those di> 
 tingainlun^ niarlu of uuthotRuip which were referred to in tUe compilutiona of 
 tha real uf the volume. Tliey ure n.i-re tridu, however, and having the 
 -n*-i r.,., n nf>- " Mr. U. axe 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 MEMOIR, .... Pt^t? vii 
 
 POLITICAL Calhoun s Exposition, - 3 
 
 Doctrine of the Veto, - - -46 
 
 The Tariff Principle, - - -^m 65 
 
 The Right to Fight, ^ - . 61 
 
 Party Spirit, - . * >- -*ns $ " ! 66 
 
 The Union Convention, _-*" *** 57 
 
 Position of the Union Party, - - 9 
 
 letters from Washington, - - 71 
 
 Sketch^* of Public Character*, *"* "V : ^ - - 84 
 
 Codification of the Common LAW, - . t" *? > 93 
 
 Negro Slavery, .-* - v -^ . . is 
 
 Turkish Civili/.ation, - - ~--f " 105 
 
 MORAL Mental Philosophy, - . * r . ]07 
 
 The Moral Sense, ... . ^, + -_ 4 119 
 
 On the Imagination, - "/ - - .^ , 129 
 
 Pursuit of Happiness, . . . 141 
 
 The s.ime suhjert, - . .145 
 
 J -rnriy DeLwiam and the Utilitaham, - - ] 50 
 
 LITKRART AND CRITICAL Clawical Education, . 159 
 
 Chateaubriand, . . . . 172 
 
 Identity of Janios, . . . . . 173 
 
 Defence of Poetry, . - - . 1^3 
 
 American Literature, - - . 186 
 
 Floral Emblems, - - . : V ig 
 
 Vitality of Letters, -* , . tf 1 - . . 194 
 
 Jeremy Benttiam, s-> v ... i % 
 Mutations of Letters, * ... 197 
 
 Literary Trifling, . .. . - 211 
 
 Poetry of M. Hemaas, - < . ; /; 202 
 
 The King s Secret, - - . 20 
 
 The Young Duke, - . ** * . 211 
 
 living s AUiambrm, - . . . -214 
 Swallow Bam, ... -. ** 216 
 
 M with an A mbuloM Student, . . 217 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 >.b The Drama, a Prize Addre**, - tit 
 
 The Poetical Rage, * - - - 221 
 Winter Scene, - >> - - .223 
 The Power of Beauty, - - .224 
 
 Moonlight Wandering*, - - 226 
 
 Lofty Meditation*, ... t 4 . , .$. 226 
 
 AD Introduction, > - 227 
 
 Morning, - - ,% . 228 
 
 The Young Mother; . v , - 229 
 
 l)ith\n.tnhic, ..... 230 
 
 DearThingi, . . .- / 4^ *,.-*/ 231 
 
 HI>J>". ...... 232 
 
 To a Lady on her Birthday, * . ;,> 4 233 
 
 A Wish, . . -. ^ f . ^ 254 
 
 Portrait Painting, . . . 235 
 
 Spring, ... T -4 - ; . + 236 
 
 Politics and Poetic*, - . ., > ... .*.< 
 
 Joys of Home, - . . . . 237 
 
 To a 1-ady, - . . / . . 28 
 
 On Plauting and Dedicating a Nondescript, * Y -J 239 
 
 Stauzas to , . . ;- ^ * . 
 
 Impromptu to , . ^ ^ 240 
 
 Fuiewell, . . . ;-^ V . 2 41 
 
 Forget Me Not, " v . . V ; ! ^. . 
 
 To Cer.iia An Imprompti, i ^ |^ 242 
 
 A Pray ir for Peace, - . . . ; ^ . 
 
 To . . K V M^j ^. ; 243 
 
 To a Ijidy Weeping, . . ^ 4 
 
 Translated from the Iliad, Book Hi. r. 16, ,. ,^f. 2 44 
 
 Translation of Eoripide*, . . 4^ 44 
 
 Lbe8l . ". 246 
 
 Sonnet to Marion, 
 
 Sonnet* 
 
 - 248 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 Tho compiler of this little volume, is conscious of no 
 necessity which could call for, or prompt an apologetic 
 appeal to the reader, for his indulgence during its perusal. 
 He feels confident, that, without referring particularly or 
 even passingly to the extreme youth % f its subject, and <ho 
 circumstances under which these remains were written and 
 now make their appearance, their own merits arc sufficiently 
 marked an. 1 peculiar to render any such appeal unnecessary. 
 Though the transcripts and impressions of a mind and life, 
 scaraely yet active in their human careor, and certainly, in 
 great part, yet undeveloped, they carry with them, and upon 
 their face, claims to the respectful consideration of all classes 
 of readers, which may not go unregarded. They are of the 
 true metal, and bear the stamp of a genius as beautiful and 
 full of scent and promise as the first flower of the springtime; 
 though, with sorrow we must add, one, which has proved 
 more timelessly evanescent and fleeting. There may be 
 some, however some stern critic, too impregnable in rule, 
 tnd too fettered by the exercise and dictate of an inflexible 
 justice, tp whom the germ which this volume discloses, 
 wanting as it does in the fruition of its promise, and more 
 than deficient in many of the essentials of a labored perfec 
 tion, may seem vain and valueless* He may wonder that 
 
Mil. MKM01R. 
 
 the effusions of the boy, just free from college restraints, 
 and tinctured deeply with its frequent pedantries and noto 
 rious truisms, should be thus sedulously preserved and set 
 in sight. He may sneer at the revived discussion of opin 
 ions, now settled down into certainty by common consent, 
 or repudiated and overthrown by a decision equally unani 
 mous. For such an one we have little of remark. If, 
 familiar with the highest attributes of intellect, only, and 
 conscious of no humbler standa.il of comparative excellence, 
 than that which distinguishes the Apollo Bclvidere, he dis 
 dains the creations of all humbler artists this little memento 
 is not for his examination. We look to gentler spirits to 
 a more moderated measure of criticism for itsdestiny. We 
 place it in other hands we refer to an authority, in affec 
 tions more generously constituted, and a judgment higher 
 oven than his, for its sanction and support. Nor shall we 
 look in vain. The intelligent sense will recognise in this 
 little effort to embalm the memory of a mind of high promise 
 stricken in the bud, an encouragement to effort in others 
 similarly constituted. This trophy, like that of Kirke \Vhite 
 and others, of our own as well as foreign countries, may 
 stimulate the efforts of the boy, and direct and render effec 
 tive his industry. It may be, however, that reasons such as 
 these, may prove unequal to the task of apology. The un 
 bending and conscientious Procrustes, who would lop off 
 what is unequal in the literary measure with scrupulous 
 exactitude, may still object, that we have already memorials 
 enough, for the purposes of warning and example. If so, we 
 have yet another reply. We, who honor the memory 
 we have endeavored to preserve, have not studiously thrust 
 our memorials upon his sight. We have built our temple, 
 (if we may so speak,) in the secluded walks of the village 
 church-yard, in the silent places of the forest and if ho 
 
MEMOIR. IX. 
 
 reads its inscription at all, he can only do so, by a studied 
 departure from the thoroughfare, and an equally studied 
 approach to the simple edifice upon which it is written. 
 
 MAYNARD DAVIS RICHARDSON, the subject of our memoir, 
 was the sixth child and fourth son, of the Hon. John S. 
 Richardson, one of the Judges of ihc Circuit Court, and of 
 Mrs Elizabeth L. Richardson, of South-Carolina. He was 
 born at Charleston, in that State, on the first dav of January, 
 one thousand eight hundred and twelve. Ilr attended the 
 various, most approved elementary schools in thnt city; and 
 at a comparatively early period, was entered at the Charles- 
 Ion College, not long; before, successfully established, un 
 der the charge of a Faculty and Tutorship, which have nc- 
 quired, in the administration of its duties, a high reputation 
 for themselves, while conferring; upon it a degree of useful 
 ness and character, not peculiar, before thir period, to such 
 institutions in that section. Here, he pursued a preparatory 
 course of instruction, for an ade juatc time, prior to his trans 
 fer to the South-Carolina College, at Columbia, in 1828, 
 where his education underwent completion. It was, hc\v 
 ever, at the College of Charleston, and while in the Semina 
 ries of that city, that the capacities of his mind those 
 graceful and vigorous shoots of promise which so unhappily 
 were denied fulfilment first began to dc*-ck>pe themselves. 
 At this period, and when but thirteen or fourteen years of 
 age, the eye, alike, of parental pride and satisfaction, and of 
 youthful and school fellowship, became attracted to the un 
 folding talent which afterwards distinguished his limited ca 
 reer, and which, even then, exhibited those first fruits which 
 won for him, among his associates, a consideration not soon 
 to be forgotten. The precocious nature of his boyish efforts, a 
 wonder at that time to his mates and rivals, if detailed at large 
 and dwelt upon now, would, we are assured, be no ! so U 
 
 B 
 
Xii. MEMOIR. 
 
 These subjects of discussion indicate something of the 
 eourse of popular inquiry in the Southern States for some 
 yeirs past; nod their free analysis, along with others of simi 
 lar import, has doubtless tended not a little to that general 
 habit of inquiry and examination into the principles and 
 concerns of Government, which, while it has doubtless been 
 productive of no small enlightenment among the great ma 
 jority of the; people, has, at the same time, set them afloat 
 upon a sea of p rpctual excitement and speculation, and 
 brought about that spirit of technically refining upon the 
 simplicities of diction and definition, which leaves no in 
 strument where it found it; and renders language, itself, a 
 most uncertain channel for the transmission and application 
 of reason and of thought. There can be no doubt that a 
 partial examination of an abstruse question such an exam 
 ination, to speak in brief, as the popular mind, devoted, as 
 it must be, to a thousand conflicting duties and pursuits, can 
 afford to give it will only have a tendency to the unset 
 tling of established usage and opinion, without furnishing, 
 in their ste^d, any more wholesome or legitin.ate substitutes. 
 Coupled vrilh the popular spirit, is always to be found a large 
 degree of thirst for novelty and change a thirst, which, 
 properly directed, finds its authorized channel in new and 
 valuable enterprises, and is so far beneficial, alike, -to men 
 and nations; but which, dammed up in this quarter and 
 misdirected in others, breaks down all the landmarks and 
 washes away all the restraints of social order, until revolu 
 tion finds ita realm and dominion in the devastation which 
 necessarily follows. *Ve would not, by these remarks, have 
 it understood, that we think debating societies, such as those 
 above spoken of, productive rather of evil than of benefit; 
 but it may have it* use to inquire, in how much we should 
 sanction the superficial consideration of subjects, requiring 
 
MEM OIK. Xllt. 
 
 long years of elaborate inquiry, whicii the popular mind, in 
 our country, is too apt to undertake, examine and settle, in 
 the brief compass of a single night. Any discussion, however, 
 of this matter, whatever its importance in a social point of 
 view, being here unnecessary and irrelevant, we return to our 
 subject by introducing to the reader, for example, a string of 
 topics, all of them of leading and of nice general import, which 
 appears in the ha.idwriting and among the papers of our 
 author, and which, without doubt, were submitted by him 
 while a; college, to some one or more of the associations, of 
 which he may have been the member. That many of these 
 were actually discussed, in part by himself, we have the 
 pru^f, in notes, profusely rich, which are strewn confusedly 
 .among the remains now before u*. Some of them appear to 
 have furnished the material, in an arfter day, for man ? * of hi* 
 published essays and in this manuer we are compelled to 
 account, f )r the occasional use of the same idea, and, in one 
 or more instances, the same paragraph, in more than one 
 article upon relevant subjects; a repetition, which is una 
 voidable in this publication, and which the reader, referring 
 to this" explanation, will readily excuse, aa it may happen to 
 occur in the progress of the volume. A comparison, how 
 ever, of these initial efforts, with their revved arrangement 
 in after compositions, proves them in most casca, to have 
 undergone summary and abridgement, rather than dress and 
 amplification. Here follow the proposed topics of debate: 
 
 W J usury lawful? 
 
 "Is lalsehood ever justifiable? 
 
 "Which is the widest field for talent and distinction, 
 letters, or politics? 
 
 "Is wealth or knowledge, most powerful? 
 
 "Southern States holding slaves? 
 
 "Fashion productive of good or evil? 
 
xiv. MEiioin 
 
 "Law of Libel in South Carolina? 
 
 "Mind ever inactive?" 
 
 "Must the unities of time, place and action be prefer 
 red?" 
 
 "One or succession of ages better?" 
 
 "Moral sense innate?" 
 
 "Capital punishment necessary?" 
 
 "Use of ancient classics their study juf/ij/fcA/t/" 
 
 "Luxury good or ill in results?" 
 
 "Writings of Atheism injurious to Christianity?" 
 
 ** Language of Divine or human institution?" 
 
 "Slavery consistent with natural justice?" 
 
 "Is Poetry, in its aggregate effects, beneficial to society?" 
 
 "Of most influence, reason or habit?" 
 
 "Theatricals beneficial?" 
 
 "Relative intellects male and female?" 
 
 "Should females be denied the pursuit of science?" 
 
 "Are the capacities of men originMly equal?" 
 
 "Ambition productive of pleasure or pain, good or evil?" 
 
 "Public or private education preferable?" 
 
 "Coriolanus, justifiable in bringing its enemies into his 
 ountry? n 
 
 "Horse stealing, be punished capitally? 
 
 "Has the life of Buonaparte been of benefit to the world?" 
 
 "Is bravery natural or acquired? 
 
 "Were the discoverers of the New World justifiable in 
 appropriating the possessions of tho natives?" 
 
 "lias a Government the right of forbidding emigration?" 
 
 "What influence climate upon national character?" 
 
 "Crusades beneficial?" 
 
 "Which preferable, talent or industry?" 
 
 "Cato justifiable in his suicide?" 
 
 These are some of the questions taken up for discussion in 
 
MEMOIR. \\\ 
 
 these societies. The majority of mankind, would, perhaps 
 satisfactorily, solve many of them at a glance. But there are 
 none of them which might not furnish occasion for acute 
 and close speculation and extensive research; as doubtless, 
 on these occasions, they commonly did. A few of them are 
 illo.;ically and unsatisfactorily put the first, for instance, 
 which, for its answer, necessarily looks to the existing law, 
 itself, on the subject. Many of them, have been long known 
 as points of issue among Schoolmen and Government Doc 
 tors; and, al! of them call for a high degree of methodical 
 and mental exercise, to be treated with even the most insig. 
 nificant degree of success. The notes of our author taken 
 evidently with the view to their analysis, indicate compre 
 hensive research, a reading singularly wide and various, a 
 talent at arrangement surprising in one so very young, and 
 a faculty of illustration, the necessary result of his large 
 acquaintance xvith books, coupled with a memory that did 
 not seem to hesitate often. His style too, a this period, 
 when he was but thirteen or fourteen years ot ago, was dis 
 tinguished by its manliness and character. It was free and 
 graceful lofty without grandiloquence, and flowing without 
 flippancy. Many specimens of his composition at this time 
 will be found in the body of the volume particularly 
 among the verses, and are remarkable for their ease and 
 purity. They certainly equal, if they do not surpass, the 
 like performances of Cowley and Pope at the same time of 
 life, knd lead us to infer a corresponding excellence with 
 these illustrious writers, had he been spared for the en 
 deavor.* * * 
 
 That he took a leading part among his associates at this pe 
 riod, we have the testimony of themselves. A letter from 
 
 *Th<j following Tem, -.-rode, imperfect, ami the image* of which tnaj be 
 traced ebewhere, may be taken hi proof of ov abortion. Tber bear et i- 
 
XVI. MEMOIR. 
 
 an intimate associate of Mr. Richardson, received in reply 
 to an application, made with (his object, is strong in this res 
 pect, and, as it conies from a gentleman, himself of conside 
 rable promise, we shall make free selections from its contents. 
 "No one, 9 says he, "at this period knew our friend better 
 than myself. Our intimacy begun with childhood, and my 
 
 deuce of extreme juvenility , and are coupled with note* which would ifer 
 their composition to hU twelfth or thirteenth year. They are described i* 
 the manuscript from which they are taken, as his first effort in verse 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 I love to roam at morning light 
 When day hai rtuued away dull night; 
 1 love to roam when night afar 
 lias fled within her ebon car; 
 At dawn, to see Spring s earliest flower 
 Revived by cheerful vernal showers; 
 To roam along the silent walk, 
 Where 1, iny fancy, may not balk, 
 O erehadowed by the forest tree*, 
 And fanned by Zephyr s cooling breese- 
 The brilliant foliaged birds to see 
 And hsteu to their minstrelsy; 
 To sit and hear the waving grove 
 Re-echo to the voice of love; 
 To hear the truant 1 lack bird s lay. 
 While skipping fast from spray to spray ; 
 To hear the silver speckTd thrush 
 Tuning hi ihroal from bush to buah; 
 To view the new-born day appear 
 And brighten nature with his glare* 
 All theae I love, but more I love, 
 At midnight s silent hour to rove, 
 To watch the twinkling stars, to see 
 The queen of heaven, in majesty j 
 To lie (he moistened grass along, 
 And hear the owl s foreboding song; 
 To some old, moat-clad tower 10 hi* 
 While the grey bat goes flitting by ) 
 
MEMOIRS. XV11. 
 
 admiration of his virtues and talents grew up from that pe 
 riod until his death. While at school, he was highly esteem 
 ed as a promising youth. Indeed his singular capacity, as is 
 too oflen the case at such intlitutions, made him somewhat 
 unpopular with his fellows. The precocity of his mind was 
 such, and his colloquial powers so various and rich for one 
 of his age, that he always placed himself foremost in their 
 school-hoy efforts. This gained him the appellation of "the 
 Pedant" but no one knew how to parry such sneers with 
 greater dexterity. At school, the best boxer, you know, has 
 from time immemorial, been considered the best man. It 
 was otherwise with him. He had a vein of pungent humor 
 which to him was sword and shield. No one knew how to 
 exercise this property better and no one at school ever 
 wielded it with more absolute sway. I have fallen into an 
 apparently trivia! recital, because I believe upon this ptrl of 
 his early character depended much of his literary success af 
 terwards. I am sure his first inducement to the writing of 
 
 To Bit among the ruin drear, 
 And watch in calm composure there 
 The ruined walls, with gra<w o ergrown 
 The hooting owl, roamed from he* home, 
 The bubbling brook, that wind* its court* 
 O er pebble s overgrown with mo 
 The silver moon her bright beam* throw 
 Upc* the rough hewn atoneo below, 
 Tbrre many a joke and many a song 
 
 Oft rung the ancient wall* along. 
 
 
 
 Give roe to sit, in tranquil joy 
 Where BO disturbance can annoy; 
 Giro me to watch, ere morning * beam 
 Dispel my rinona/y dream; 
 Oh! gire me oft to know the power 
 Of midnight calm aad silent bosr . 
 
 C 
 
xviii. MEMOIR. 
 
 poetry, arose out of the applause of the students, bestowed 
 Upon a little doggrel satire, which we unmercifully dealt out 
 upon the head of one of our classmates. It was for some in 
 dignity received, that Maynard pointed the pen at his victim, 
 and in the course of one night s hard work, we conjointly 
 managed to produce a sort of heroic satire, representing our 
 opponent as the famous Trojan hero ourselves as Agame- 
 non and Achilles. The verses, I confess, were bad enougi. 
 not to speak of the bad taste of placing ourselves so modest 
 ly in the shoes of two such doughty heroes. Be this as it 
 may the praise they received at school was to him, not less 
 than myaelf "a poetic glass of wine, * and it exhilarated him 
 to such a degree that he cut many a pleasant caper with the 
 muses in times thereafter. The compass of this letter admo 
 nishes me to pass over the earlier portions of his life, and say 
 something of that period when his mind began to developc 
 its powers, and take a more orderly stand. 
 
 "He was about fifteen years of age, when we both joined a 
 Debating Society of the*, city. Although one of the youngest 
 members he was remarkable for taking a successful part in 
 some of the gravest debates. He chiefly delighted to engage 
 in subjects of morals and metaphysics and I am astonished 
 even at this period when I reflect how correctly and variously 
 he used to handle these topics. This he was in great measuro 
 enabled to do from his proficiency in the ancient classics. 
 Most of their philosophers he had read, and his principal de 
 light was in introducing th jm to the acquaintance of his seve 
 ral friends. I think it was his constant perusal of such auth 
 ors which gave such a terseness* to his conversation and 
 writings. In the society he was far from being a popular 
 
 *The vvaut of this very terseness, with all deference to the opinion of our 
 friend, u the chief fault of our author * style, which, as be ha* said imme 
 diately below, was quite too ewayic&l. 
 
MfcMOlR. XlX, 
 
 fiehaicr. His style was too cssayical. But his satirical 
 powers frequently made up for this deficiency. He could 
 laugh from the mino s of his audience the most solid conclu 
 sions, and substitute in (heir place his own. I am fully per 
 suaded that this faculty, if properly managed, and had life 
 bten spared^ would have made him a highly successful plead 
 er. I have already almost implied that his essays were well 
 received. For one of his age they were remarkable for their 
 correctness of thought and style. I recollect one in particu 
 lar. It gained him great commendation from the members. 
 The subject was "The means of attaining a high moral stan 
 dard. " An anecdote which arose from this essay, will serve 
 to illustrate its excellence. In the course of his observation* 
 he touched upon the beauties of Zcnophon as a philosopher; 
 and pictured forth his life of Cyrus as a correct model of the 
 moral standard. This he did in so charming a manner that 
 we all went home and read the Cyropaedia with redoubled 
 energy. I am sure my tutor at least could bear testimony 
 lo my correct recitations of the book for weeks after. 
 
 "After Maynard^vcnt to College, I knew little of him MVP 
 through letters. He, Vowcvcr, from all that I have been en 
 abled to collect from his fellow students, took there an ele 
 vated stand. It is believed by most of them, that he might 
 have received he first honor* of the Institution, had he not 
 declared himself indifferent to them. As it was he was pla 
 ced among its highest honored. Many of his letters are be 
 fore me. They are on various subjects, and display a mind 
 richly cultivated, if not matured. I have often had cause to 
 admire the rapidity with which he wrote on every subject. 
 He never corrected what he wrote, and, what is remarkable, 
 I do not recollect ever to have detected a flagrant mistake in 
 even his most familiar epistles. 
 
 "I could write a volume in praise of the social virtues of 
 
XX. MEMOIR. 
 
 our friend but this is not the place. Suffice it to say he wa* 
 generous high minded and sincere and seldom lost a friend 
 where he made one." 
 
 Of the satirical powers of Maynard, as described by the 
 friend, k> whom we are indebted for the above epistle, we 
 have little question. Much of the material which we have 
 been compelled to exclude from this compilation, savours 
 strongly of this characteristic; and taking a local and per 
 sonal direction, particularly during the political warfare, in 
 which it was, perhaps, his misfortune to engage, has been dis 
 carded, chiefly, for this very reason. Still, there are eviden 
 ces of the talent in many of the performances here preserv 
 ed; and the epigrams, which will be found at the termination 
 of the Tolumc, attest the evident leaning of his mind to the 
 habit which has been ascribed to him. \Ve would not by 
 this, however, have it understood or supposed by the reader 
 (hat he possessed that morbid and hostile malignity of tem 
 perament and thought, which is so absolutely essential to the 
 constitution of the personal satirist He was a creature, too 
 gentle in his disposition too confiding, too fond and yield 
 ing, to treasure up, for a moment, the venomous discontent 
 the jaundiced querulousness of spirit, which finds man and 
 society, things only of prey and pastime,* and which must 
 
 *A fragment, without any of those delations which might refer it to it* 
 proper period or occasion, may be given as a specimen of thia boyish Mtire 
 It U certainly no mean evidence of spirit and of poetical aptitude, if we re 
 gard the extreme youth at which lie must have written it. 
 
 "When looking through the world 1 trace, 
 
 The lUcord of each human place, 
 
 The overt spleen, the lurking hate, 
 
 Which on all stations seem to wait, 
 
 I wonder yet the cause I find, 
 
 Still planted in the human mind. 
 
 It takes its rise with earliest time , 
 
MRMOIH. XXI. 
 
 be the prime constituent in the mind and character of the ha 
 bitual satirist 
 
 In his sixteenth year (1828) he entered the Junior claw of 
 the South-Carolina College, at Columbia. Of his literary 
 
 And speeds its way through every clime. 
 
 Some sago philosopher hat paid, 
 
 That to the mortal eye still spread, 
 
 Ilia fellows follies lie revealed, 
 
 While all his ownnre well concealed 
 
 And Rancour [Envoy] with her withering [jaundiced] eyfV, 
 
 The merit changes to the vice. 
 
 Thus s pen with renom fraught 
 
 A venal pen for [with] lucre bough , 
 
 Attempts to strangle at its birth, 
 
 The infant muse, inspired by mirth, 
 
 Ami silence nature s sweetest ong 
 
 With croak ings of his raven tongue 
 
 That song of feeling s darling child 
 
 Warbling hi$ natire wood note 9 tetM" 
 
 Advancing with celestial fire 
 
 From "nhture up to nature s- Sire," 
 
 As erst, shall now and e er prevail 
 
 While s critic spleen shall fail. 
 
 His vcrs*, of hate and folly boii, 
 Though seeking fame shall find but acorn. 
 Ti Dry den says perhaps twas Byron 
 No matter which, the search would lire o. 
 That who by gentleness would soothe, 
 The bitter and the brainless youth, 
 Errs wide, as he who trie* to bribe 
 The true the candid critic s pride , 
 Who wield* no prostituted pea 
 To bate, to party, or to me* 
 Whose rule of right M nature s creed, 
 Who give* to merit, merit s need; 
 Still, always eager to befriend, 
 Tto rtne nr nature mtaat t mend. 
 
XXil. MEMOIR. 
 
 labours while at this Institution, we know comparatively lit 
 tle or nothing. It is more than probable that the studies and 
 requisitions of the University, left him but little time, and 
 afforded him few opportunities for exercises, which, what 
 ever may be the ultimate design of education, are, in reality, 
 irrelevant to its acquirement. Still, he must have indulged 
 occasionally in his converse and association with the muses, 
 for his verses seem more easy after this period, and his prose, 
 always free and graceful, had acquired still greater freedom, 
 and had taken on itself an air of manliness which gave an ad^ 
 ded interest to the p*is.ion:Uc flow of its general character. 
 Associations of a like literary character uith those which he 
 enjoyed when at school in Charleston, noem litre to have ra 
 ther confirmed him in a habit of metaphysical disquisition) 
 which, in time became, not less a habit than a luxury, the 
 consequence of which unhappily appears in almost every 
 thing which he has written. Numberless scraps of manu 
 script occur among his papers, containing the heads of hi* 
 argument on theae occasions and at these controversies; 
 usually coupled with some brief exordium, which, while sub 
 stantially proposing the question, furnished him with a text, 
 that, by unavoidable necessity, introduced the corollary. 
 His research on these occasions was prodigious. All writers 
 of whom he appears ever to have heard, who had treated of 
 ihe main or any of the incidental topics, were thoroughly 
 overhaul and examined; and the immense pile of rotes, 
 authorities and selections, which were gathered by him in 
 this way, and carefully preserved, would infinitely surprise 
 the great majority of our modern and native literati. In 
 these inquiries Maynard was indefatigable; and the acquisi 
 tions thus made, ihe various and valuable fund of know 
 ledge thus obtained, furnishing him at all times with re*dy 
 material, and which few minds could digest with more faci- 
 
MEMOIK. \\lli. 
 
 lily lhan his own, must have yielded him numberless advan 
 tages over his contemporaries in any future pursuit of litcra- 
 lurc. Our reference here has been purely to works of science 
 and speculation to those huge tomes in which the great 
 body of moral and metaphysical knowledge is contained, 
 and the mere perusal of which, apart from their study and 
 analysis, is, of itself, a monstrous, and, possibly, a meritorious 
 labour. The industry of Maynard was not content only 
 with this, however great, achievement. Warmly devoted to 
 letters, the literature of the classics was at an early period of 
 his college career, a prime object of devotion and attain 
 ment; and, while an under graduate, lie delivered the oration 
 devoted to the subject, which fully attested the success of this 
 pursuit, and which, in the language of a critical friend, 
 "would have done honour 1o tlie pens of Everett or Legare." 
 "He read, (observes the same authority) the productions of 
 Homer, Euripides and Eschylus, not so much with the feel 
 ings of a critic as a pcct. He breathed the same atmosphere 
 with them the mantle of their inspiration fell upon his shoul 
 ders, he caught thc .r spirit and transfused it with uncom 
 mon felicity into his own writings. * 
 
 This is high praise, and although not prepared to say quite 
 as much as the authority from which we have drawn the 
 preceding passage, we cannot scruple to l>elicve, that there is 
 promise high promise in what he has left us of hi* mind 
 that such would have been his achievement, and that, this eu 
 logy would not have been entirely unmerited in the end. The 
 little collection here given, is one of infinite promise; labour 
 ing too, as it does, under the several and strong disadvantages, 
 incident to its early composition the want of chastened ela 
 boration, and the absence of that careful revision, which none 
 
 From an obituary notice, contained in the "Sumter Whig" the journal 
 conducted 07 mr author then, under the control *f a friend. 
 
XXIV. MEMOI*. 
 
 but an author can hope to undertake satisfactorily. T^e 
 crude thought, hastily conceived and hurriedly committed 
 to paper, can only receive due correction from the mind that 
 conceives i; and with this belief we have been compelled 
 to throw aside, though with many scruples, numerous passa 
 ges, comprising the germ of many a fine conception and bril 
 liant design, which, under hi* hand?, might have attained all 
 the growth and beauty, which they undoubtedly promised. 
 
 It was while Maynard was a member of the senior class of 
 the South Carolina College, that a Dramatic corps under the 
 direction of Mr. De Camp, for some years after, the Mana 
 ger, established a Theatre in Columbia; at that period some 
 thing of a novelty to its citizens. To a student, and a pro 
 found admirer of the muses, this was an event of highest 
 interest; and the ofler of a prize, by the Manager, for a po 
 etical address adapted to the opening of the new temple, 
 immediately instigated our young author then in his seven 
 teenth, year to undertake the performance. He did so, and 
 succeeded. The address was chosen by a committee of high 
 character, and was spoken, we believe, with considerable ef 
 fect. We are not informed as to the number of competitors, 
 but presume, that, as is usual on these occasions, they were 
 neither few in number, nor deficient in industry and talent. 
 The successful poem, which will be found in our poetical de 
 partment, is not a fair specimen of the abilities of the writer. 
 The hacknied character of the theme and occasion, the diffi 
 culty of saying any thing new on such a subject, and the 
 extreme youth of its author, were all so many obstacles in the 
 way of a performance, the memory of which might be lasting 
 The address, therefore, is rather that of a gentleman, to 
 whom the fielles Lettres were a taste and a pastime, than 
 of a poet. The images and ideas employed, are, of necessi 
 ty, common place; and such as are unavoidably suggested 
 
MEMOIR. XXV 
 
 - 
 
 by the subject. Many of them appear elsewhere, and in 
 the old writers; and the chief merit, therefore, of the article 
 *in question, is the graceful and flowing versification, and a 
 few, somcwhatnovel, combinations of ideas and images, pcciu 
 liar to the theme. The structure of the verse is perfectly un 
 exceptionable, and with, perhaps, a solitary exception, un 
 commonly easy and harmonious. In its members, however, 
 it is incoherent, and, if we may so speak, inconsecutive. The 
 song wanders from one topic to another before each is ex 
 hausted; and we find the former recurred to, before we have 
 well made our way into and through that, to which, in like 
 manner, we had been previously hurried. Hut this is a ve 
 nial error, and incident to all juvenile perforn: mces. The 
 wonder is, that, in a production of such length, and of a 
 character so ambitious, the defects and exuberances should 
 be so few and unimportant. 
 
 To this single achievement, however, the labours of our 
 author, while at College, do not appear to have been limited; 
 and, although we arc not advised of any other performance, 
 Htrictly of a public or popular character, from his pen, be 
 yond an occasional display before the Clariosophic Society, 
 and other associations of which he was a member, his attain 
 ments and reputation seem rapidly to have been progres 
 sing. His correspondence, at this period which, from its, 
 personal and domestic character, we are not at liberty to 
 make use of bears strong testimony to the manliness and 
 originality of his mind, and its employments. His propen 
 sity to philosophical inquiry and criticism the close and 
 scrupulous self-examination which, in these habits, his mind 
 continually underwent, seemed to prepare him, naturally as 
 it were, to digress, with the most perfect freedom and suc 
 cess, even in the most familiar compositions, to opinions as 
 lofty and comprehensive, as the arguments by which they 
 
 D 
 
from the description given, the glowing strain which is said 
 to have distinguished the college exercise. It is stript of ma 
 ny of those aids and ornaments which gave it a free flowr 
 upon (he ear of the auditory; and, in the less pretend ing form 
 of the essay though sufficiently obnoxious still to the rep 
 rehensions of a severe taste it has been deprived, by a more 
 critical spirit than that in which it had been conceived, of 
 much of that glow and glitter, which probably won for it 
 most of the applause by which it appears to have been greet 
 ed upon its delivery. In its present shape, it is strangely 
 unsatisfactory. The argument is entirely incomplete the 
 transitions from one to another of its premise- and details, 
 too hurried to admit of full, or even partial justice to any one 
 of them; and all that we can now perceive of merit, in what 
 has been left us, of a performance confessedly highly popu 
 lar at the time of its inception, is a graceful and flowing dic 
 tion, and a rather profuse, but not unpleaing, freedom of il 
 lustration and ornament. 
 
 Having now quitted college, he proposed to himself the 
 study of the law, and leisurely, at intervals, from this period, 
 until his life took a new, and perhaps, not an uncongenial 
 direction, he employed himself in the acquisition of the ele 
 mentary principles of that noble science. Such a pursuit, 
 admirably accorded with the acute and logical turn of hr5 
 mind, and there is little doubt, considering, in connection 
 with this characteristic, another, not less so, in the free and 
 extreme facility, which, at his age, he possessed, of language 
 and composition that, had he lived, and chosen topursuetho 
 profession, his success, as an advocate, must have been deci 
 ded. Currently with this study, he employed himself in 
 the education of two younger brothers, by which exercise 
 he still further refreshed and strengthened his own college 
 acquisitions; and in this manner was passed, not unprofita- 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 bly, the brief interval of tiinc^ between bis departure from 
 his Alma Mater, and assumption of the many responsibilities 
 and, at all times, highly exciting duties, of a political jour 
 nalist. We now sec him in a character entirely new, and, 
 one, for which we hesitate not to affirn., the amiability of his 
 character the unsophisticated and yielding temper of his 
 feelings andaflections, almost entirely unfitted him. The heart 
 of Maynard, had been made in a mould, and imbued with a 
 Spirit, as gentle as those emotions, which were the invariable 
 accompaniments and unhesitating prompters of all his ac 
 tions. He had formed his idea of human nature, not from 
 a survey of its existing, but of its ideal condition. lie had 
 looked upon humanity, as it was before, and not after its 
 fall; and the soul of poetry, which prompted his own moods, 
 was quite too generous and gentle, to conceive of either 
 storms or ser|>ents in that sweet Eden, which his fancy had 
 filled with existences, not merely immortal, but young and 
 beautiful and innocent to the last. What had such a crea 
 ture to do with politics and political partizanship that war 
 fare of peevish spirits and petty ambition, where patriotism 
 becomes a by-word and jest furnishing the sign post for 
 beer house and brothel and where ruflianism and guile are 
 almost certain of success in the conflict with honest dcvo 
 tion, shrinking modesty, and that high-souled truth that will 
 not prostitute its own pure impulses, for all the honors and 
 distinctions of an immoral and diseased condition of society! 
 We have hitherto studiously forborne, as unnecessary *a 
 our narration, any icfcrcnce more than one purely occa 
 sional to the condition of political parties in the State T>f 
 South-Carolina, during all this period; and our reference 
 now" shall be as cautiously sparing as may be consistent with 
 the requirements of our memoir. Designing this publica 
 tion, as we do, simply* as the memorial of one, who had 
 
XXX. MKMOir.. 
 
 iu him much tiiat might have taught, and won, and com* 
 mantled and who had ofreutly done something toward* 
 tho attainment of this promise we would carefully sup 
 press and exclude all such matter a* might he merely lin 
 eal and fleeting in its interest, or offensive in its expression. 
 We would preserve the memory of our friend as a son of 
 Carolina one, who, if spared for the realization of those 
 pledges which his early career had given, would have con 
 ferred honor upon her, and whose labors, even now, are not 
 altogether unworthy to he enshrined in the memories of her 
 children. For these reasons we would desire to avoid that 
 rank and prolific growth the parties of the day and 
 though from the nature of Mr. Richardson s employments 
 during the most active period of his life, this hope be enter 
 tained in vain, we shall yet so far as practicable, abridge his 
 "Remains" by excluding whatever may not seem purely 
 abstract and general in its application. 
 
 The condition of parties in South-Carolina, separating, a* 
 they did, the people at large upon a topic the most terribly 
 .exciting, and the interest of which, we regret to say, has not 
 .even now altogether subsided, it was deemed necessary that 
 n exponent of the doctrines and desires of the Union Party 
 should be established in Sumter District a highly intelligent 
 division of the State, and one, in which parties were, in a 
 numerical sense, pretty equally divided. The opposite, or 
 Nullification Party, had already the vantage ground afforded 
 them by the use of a press in the little village of Sumter; 
 and the "Southern Whig," a journal embodying the politics 
 of the former party, was established under the direction of 
 - Mr. Richardson, and in great part through his own personal 
 activity. He had now entered upon a new sphere, and one 
 to which his whole previous life had been foreign and unfa 
 miliar. He was now to enter into the arena to combat-- 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 
 
 not principles, so much as persons for who does not know 
 that the war of political partizanship, whatever may he its 
 character at the commencement, overlooks, in a little while, 
 the abstract grounds upon which the conflict began, anil iden 
 tifying measures with men, forgets the doctrine in the teach 
 er? Of this, Maynard seems, at the outset, to have had but 
 little idea. His nature had been too generously too gently 
 constituted; he was quite too unsophisticated too untaught 
 in the habits of human collision, to regard it as at all difficult 
 so to discuss the workings of a problem in government or 
 morals, with guiding principles, and according to the dicta 
 of college rules, with an even temper, and without violation 
 of the bounds and limits of the most rigid decorum. Thus, 
 having in his very first paper devoted several columns to the 
 consideration of the principles of a distinguished statesman, 
 embodied in a theory which has lately "rung from side to 
 side" of our country, he addresses him a private letter, ac 
 companying his public analysis, in which, while he regrets 
 that his own convictions do not permit his recognition of the 
 doctrine which he opposes, he entertains the hope that hi 
 course may not lose him those good regards and that friend 
 ly interest which had always been avowed for his fortunes, 
 by the person whom he addresses and whose opinions he re 
 views. The original of this letter may well merit preserva 
 tion, as an illustration of that manly candour and general and 
 stern adherence to principle, which formed no less a feature 
 of the intellectual, than the .moral existence of our subject. 
 The following is a copy of the communication here referred 
 to. 
 "Respected and Dear Sir? 
 
 "I take the liberty of sending you the Sumter Whig/ 
 devoted to principles which I believe possess your sanction, 
 n-jth, perhaps, a single exception. After as impartial an in- 
 
xxxi. 
 
 vcsligation of the mibjcct M my understanding is capable of 
 giving it, I have been compelled by stubborn conviction, to 
 reject the doctrine of the veto, except as (probably) a revo 
 lutionary measure. I trust that, in slating my objections, I 
 have felt and expressed that esteem for your character, and 
 that re.spcct for your abilities, which I certainly entertain; 
 and that no political rancour will ever operate to convert an 
 honest difference of opinion into reckless and indiscriminate 
 censure. If I am in error, to he convicted of it will give 
 me no pain; nor [in that even*] would I hesitate to avow it 
 and retrace my steps. I am not possessed, I trust, by the 
 amabalis insania of weak minds, which weds them to error 
 and renders them obstinately inaccessible to conviction; 
 though I must say, my error, if so it be, must be fundamen 
 tal. 1 have cither built upon an insecure foundation, or am 
 bottomed upon constitutional law, and have escaped Locke s 
 distinctive feature of madness false conclusions from sound 
 premises. To you as the giver of comparative, I would 
 address Pope s invocation to the Author of all light If I 
 am right, 0! teach, etc. 
 
 "With respectful remembrance of your kindness, 
 "I am, Dear Sir, very sincerely, &c." 
 
 It is not often that public men, in their career of personal 
 ambition, urged on by party impulses solicitous of the one 
 object, and reckless of the character of those means employed 
 in its attainmentobserve a courtesy, so elevated, so be 
 comingly honourable as this. Most of our partizan editors 
 would smile at this juvenile consideration of the feelings of 
 othersthis deferential regard to authority and age. They 
 would scarce scruple, strong in their supposed notions of the 
 right, and devoutly zealous for the combination of men or in 
 terests for which they speak, to assail motives, no less than 
 opinions. It was not so with our friend. He had no sucij 
 
MKM01R. .\X\iii. 
 
 hostility to mini and his opposition to measures, while his 
 convictions were the result usually of a close and rigid ex 
 amination of the subject, in all its ports, was urg^d with all 
 the deference of one, who felt th;t he might yet be wrong. 
 The trait which this little epistle discloses, to our ntind, 
 ^icaks largely for the graceful delicacy of his. It embodies 
 the totodtftty of youth, while it indicates the confidence of 
 character by which, we mean, an enlightened sense, solici 
 tous for the truth, and placing the pursuit* and enquiries oi 
 its intellect, not less under the charge of a pure and proper 
 morality, than of the lights of its own reason and experience* 
 In his twentieth year, and shortly after be had undertaken 
 the editorship of the Southern Whig, he was appointed by 
 the Union Party of Sumtur District, one of the delegates to 
 the Baltimore Convention, convened for the nomination of 
 the President and Vice President, of the United States, 
 where, along with the members from South-Carolina, gene 
 rally, his vote appear? recorded for the present incumbent of 
 the former office, and Mr. Harbour, of Virginia, in the lat 
 ter. From Haiti more, after the adjournment of the Conven 
 tion, he proceeded to Washington, and attended closely to 
 the proceedings of bolh branches of Congress, oa nuy be in 
 ferred from the veil written letters, which he furnished for 
 his Journal from that city a portion of which, as they des- 
 onoein.part, the manner, style, spirit and character of 8omc 
 of the leading members of those two bodies, we have pre 
 served in this collection. They are highly graceful as mere 
 specimens of composition, but the reader will discover many 
 yet higher attributes in the bold, froc-, thought, the critical 
 acumen, and frequently just opinions, which distinguish 
 them throughout. We may add, that there are pcrmiUed to 
 appear rather too many of those prejudices, which Southern 
 youth at a rcry early period, are taught to imbibe, against 
 Northern men and institutions. A marked bias, running 
 
 B 
 
XXXIV. MLMOlfc. 
 
 along with them*ouie times defaces and defeats hii opinions; 
 and are attributable rather to the uoil than the soul of the au 
 thor, whoso sense did not often permit him to err in this naau% 
 ner, and who.se spirit, once conscious of, would withhold its* 
 support or function froai any ttcnti merit savouring of injustice. 
 We met him, at this period, for the last time, ii: Wash 
 ington. He was in excellent health, and his spirits wen- 
 unusually huoya.nl. He was preparing for hii return to 
 Carolina, having been tasked ly deliver an oration on the- 
 fourth of July, then nenr at hand;* and the high favour and 
 applause which had so far attended his public career, and 
 the tokens of which were par .icularly abundant at the seat ok 
 Government, with those who knew him, had elated him to- 
 the utmost. Hu was full of hope, sanguine in anticipation, 
 and the numberless plans of public life, and literary achieve 
 ment which he had designed, and which were unhesitating 
 ly disclosed for hi* nature had no concealments though 
 calculated, at that time, to make one smile at the profuse- 
 ness and plenitude of his hope unapprehensive of defeat 
 and disappointment, are full of melancholy consideration 
 now. Who could have dreamed of so dark a set, for so 
 bright a sun who look for a tempest when the sky was 
 without a cloud! We separated; and, a day or two before 
 the close of June, he took his way home, and arrived barely 
 in time to deliver his oration, which he put together in the. 
 course of a few hours before its delivery, while attending 
 at the same time to the journal under his direction, the du 
 ties of which he had resumed immediately on his return. 
 
 The measure of a convention of the Southern States, with 
 the view to a consideration of their federal relations, having 
 
 *\Vi; have not b teu able to place our hands upou this performance, of 
 which, Ihoso who wore present at its delivery, speak in terms of ibe highest 
 uulogy. 
 
xxxv* 
 
 ecn suggested and discussed by several of the lending men 
 of Carolina, was warmly taken up in his paper by Mnynard, 
 and it would bo doing hir.i fnr less than justice, were we to 
 donht, t l.it, but for his activity in the matter, the decision of 
 the Union Party of the State, which finally adopted it, would 
 never, or not then, at least, have been made. The aim was, 
 if possible, to prevent the; inefficient, and, most probably, 
 the suicid.d action of any one State, upon thrsc relations; 
 and, by referring the common evil and difficulty to the in 
 terests in common, enlist the action of a physical power, 
 sufficient to give emphasis to any plan which might finally 
 f>c decided upon for the attainment of a remedy. Some ot 
 the leading politicians of the Party in Ihc lower division of 
 the State, wore opposed tn tV measure, apprehending a 
 dissolution of the Union, and the formation of an entirely 
 nc\V confederation of interests purely Southern an object 
 supposed to be in tire contemplation of many individuals of 
 the opposite party. With this fear, the Qgge4tion, though 
 on the whole, ralher popular with the greater portion of thr 
 }>arty, was eol lly received by some of lho.c most active and 
 distinguished in the direction of it* affair*; and,accorn ngly, 
 <vc find , that the measure, though fixed upon at last, was 
 simply given into, afier it had been adopted by the Union 
 Par y of Sumter District, without reference lo any of the 
 other divisions of the State*. A preliminary convention of 
 delegates, representing the State, only, being necessary to 
 nny ulterior arrangement of this nature, a meeting was call 
 ed at Columbia, and, in obedience lo the will of his con 
 stituents of Sumter, Maynard, though but twenty year * 
 Of age, attended as a delegate from that section, the first ses 
 sion of th* Union Convention, in September of the pa^t 
 year. He was, at this period, Ktill engaged in the conduct 
 of his journal, the politics of which, had, as wjs to have 
 expected, involved him in several controversies of .1 
 
XXXVI. v MEJIOIB. 
 
 character rather unpleasing and troublesome than trying or 
 terrible. Solicitous only to reform, he overlooked, in sonut 
 respects, the capacity and character of Ihe disputant, and in 
 return for argument, he sometimes received abuse. A situa 
 tion like this, tvas, of all other?, the most mortifying to a 
 man of the nice sensibility the quiet spirit, and honest and 
 confiding candour of Mr. Richardson; and his indignation at 
 these assaults had no other effect than that of keeping his 
 mind in a state of strong and feverish excitement. Ungen 
 erous attack, mean and sneaking insinuations a shame loss 
 obloquy and bitter maligniiy, wrought upon his temper in a 
 thousand ways; and their effect upon his mind and his habits 
 grow momently more and more visible to every eye. A 
 sickly anitnat.on pervaded his whole system, and made him 
 restlessly alive to every circumstance, which, at another pe 
 riod, would have been suffered lo pass by him without any 
 regard, or, at the utmost, with but a passing thought or 
 srrile, of scorn or indiifcrence. Still, he did not complain, 
 even to those* mosi intimately dear to him; and though it 
 was evident how coply he felt the ungenerous nature of 
 the warfare waged against him, "a sense of pride a true man- 
 lincss, and a just appreciation of his own character forbade 
 the idea of any reference to others for sustenance or sympa 
 thy. The iron was in his soul, yet he writhed not under its 
 inflictions. He felt himself mistaken and misunderstood, 
 by many of those whose opinions he could really esteem; 
 while, on the other baud, he was daily the victim of assaults 
 from quarters either too worthless or obscure to justifv 
 honorable consideration. To one, not conversant with the 
 temper of political parties, and those too, of a Southern 
 country, our regrets may savour somewhat of extravagance. 
 It may be thought surprising that one whose character we 
 have sought to describe, as peculiarly distinguished by its 
 manly firmness, should at the same time, be so tenderly alive 
 
MEMOIR. XXXVII. 
 
 k> such indiu ct or l>asc hostility; hut when it is remember 
 ed, that true manliness of character is most usually allied tf> 
 a scnsihility as perpetually alive, as the courage which is 
 coiled to sustain it, must be active and enduring;, the suffer 
 ings of his spirit, charged too with the paramount necessity 
 of their suppression, will be readily understood. 
 
 In the beginning of October, in company with his father, 
 the Honorable Judge Richardson, he went on a visit to the 
 town and neighborhood of Columbia, chiefly with a political 
 object. At that period of excitement, no talent, of whatever 
 order, vas suffered to reM in idleness; and the journey was 
 taken in obedience to that almost imperative requirement of 
 the popular voice, which, from ils sometimes insulated posi 
 tion in the interior, looks necessarily for its knowledge of 
 men and measures, alike, to those whose leiiurc and informa 
 tion will permit ol such a practice. In the thickly clustered 
 town* and villages of the Northern States, where newspa 
 pers and knowledge may be had on all hands and with little 
 trouble, such a Uabit is unknown; but with the agricultural 
 States, with a free population scattered at wide intervals 
 throughout a territory, in one f*n*e of the word, wild and 
 uncultivated, no other means of popular enlightenment can 
 be readily contrived. To adopt such a system is therefore 
 incumbent upon all those who may desire the popular wel 
 fare though, it sometime* happens in the end, as the pre 
 sent condition of South-Carolina, readily and unhappily at 
 tests, that, in the same way and through 4 like medium, error 
 sometimes succeeds to ignorance, and usurps dominion over 
 the less presumptuous power, whose place she has taken. 
 
 The business of the political meeting which drew their at 
 tendance at Columbia, having been over, Maynard, though 
 indisposed, commenced his return home in company with 
 his father. He had proceeded as far as the house of Mr. 
 John Marshal), in Richlajvl District, jome fourteen mile* 
 
xxxv. 
 
 I rom Columbia, whoa his indisposition piit on, tor the tirst 
 time, a serious appearance, and it wai found impossible for 
 him tc* proceed further, \leclical attendance was called; 
 bnd the presence of four physicians about him, attested not 
 less the alarming nature of the attack, than (he deep inte 
 rest of those around him; for his recovery. 
 
 During his illnetw, which, in spite of all care, was destin 
 ed to be fatal, attended tlosely by a father whom he haJ 
 ever loved, nnd a sistei- in whom his best a ffectioru tad been 
 always eonti .led, his spirits, previously oppressed or stimula 
 ted, in extremes, re-turned hi most resp^ts to the more even 
 tone of healthful cquanimanity, even while the animal fires 
 were most rapidly wasting; and, though, at occasional mo 
 ments, his thoughts, reverting to the life of turmoil in which 
 he had so recently* been engaged, grew irregular with sud* 
 den hallucinations, yet, \Vith a strong, and, under all cir 
 cumstances, a singular exercise of the mental powers, he was 
 enabled to bring l N ack and restrain (ho rebellious spirits, and 
 confine them to the dwelling, destined so shortly to be left 
 forever vacant. His moments of delirium, few and soon 
 overcome, gave place, as the hour of dissolution drew near, 
 to the guiding and fine reason which distinguished his intel 
 lect; and he sought, having a full consciousness of his fate$ 
 to soothe and compote the hearts of those who could do 
 nothing for him. IIo spoke with Serenity and mildness 
 With a temper, no longer ruffled with the strifes to which he 
 had been so lately subject, and the effect of which, was, in 
 great part, the worst feature of his disease. The principles 
 bf the ChHftlUn Religion, which, with a singular direction 
 for one of his youth, his mind had exammcd years before, he 
 now repented with a conscious triumph to those ahout him, 
 as his own, and a? forming that creed, which now brought 
 serenity to his spirit.* Though ambitioA was a marked and 
 
 rv ulMiOM ol iho truth of hi< durhrition in thi NJKCI, 
 
MEMOIR. XXXIX* 
 
 ing feature in his life, there were no vain rcpvl.i on his, 
 lips at the hour ol* liis departure. Forgiving tho>e who had 
 wronged or mistaken him Messing Ihotic who loved, on 
 the twelfth ol October, the sixth day of his illness, he expired 
 gently in the arms of those nu.M dear to him. His remains 
 were borne to the place f family burial a:;d residence t 
 Jiioom Hiil,in (. laremont county, followed by u forge con 
 course of those relatives and friends, whose eyes, for a long 
 period, had lucn turned in hii;h exportation upon that fine 
 promise now forever ove. t!;ro*vn. 
 
 Our task is now nearly over. The l : fo of the man of let 
 ters is seldom prolific of much material of hauling interest 
 itill less may we find in ;hc history of one but fcntcred up 
 on such a life. A series of chstrai tions rather than events, 
 brings us from one fta^c of time to another, and he who 
 has charmed and soothed, and beguiled us in his works,, 
 seldom leaves a memorial of interest behind him, except to 
 those to whom he has been personally known. It was thus 
 with our subject. In the quiet of the studio, for the most 
 part of his career, we look in vain for those strifes, and tho 
 devclopcmenl of those pasMons, which give action to histo 
 ry. His life, wedded to few changes but those of the Rea 
 sons, like the rose of the wilderness, is conscious of no events 
 but those which they bring; and the elements in the midst 
 of which he dwelt, bestow at his departure, as little consid 
 eration, as the forest, when, by some rude zephyr, the leaf 
 s detached and whirled nway from the parent stem, or, break- 
 n y through the sides of its choked and neglected fountain, 
 
 occurs in the collection of manoicripl* which he l^fl tx-hind him. Th*te 
 iceraiagly |rrepmr*d at different ported* of tmthort life, and, from tli*ir nature 
 IUM^ reference to event* which were calculated not tuerely to try the nerve, 
 bat to inspire decent wtue of trejnuUwi roomdeiation in the tniud, we 
 land PGvernl fynns of prayer, in i^hich a ingn!ar and amiable humility of ex- 
 preMOD is coaple<f with all the entirncnt of a high and soaring *pii;t, dei- 
 row of life for the purposes of achievement. 
 
x. MfcMOlfi. 
 
 n hen the ilcut water escapes away , ami is forever lout in lhe 
 deep autls and untrodden paths of the desert Nor, doe* 
 the fact, that there remain btill a few, who most regret and 
 cannot cease to remember, change very materially the des 
 tiny of which we have spoken, and sought, however feebly, 
 to describe. The world ui man Uene of thoughtless change, 
 and of perpetually varying regards. It is to defeat this dis 
 position that we carve the marble that we give life to the 
 rock and the canvass filling the abodes of business and of 
 men with fine forms, and sweet, but always melancholy, 
 memorials. 
 
 We need say little more in relation to the literary labours 
 of Maynard. The reader will form his own opinion, upon 
 the imperfect volume which we have put before him. The 
 specimens here given, are not meant so much to exhibit his 
 performance as his promise arc not so much the achieve 
 ment, as the preparation for achievement. They arc the ex 
 ercise, of the young eaglet the initial flights, in which, by 
 short excursions and brief elevations, lie prepares his wings 
 for the far summits, and Ins unsealed eyes for the meridian 
 blaze. That these flights would have been as high on the 
 part of Maynard as any of his fellows, we have no doubt 
 ourselves, and, without fear, hazard the opinion among our 
 readers; relying confidently, even on this little collection, 
 full of imperfections, as, doubtless it will appear, to sustain 
 our estimate. lie had the soul for the endeavour the spirit 
 of daring which such an aim demands; and, who will say, 
 lhat the bird who, vet unfledged, poured forth strains so de 
 licate and melodious, as those here preserved, would not, 
 when years and exercise had imparted confidence to his spirit 
 and maturity to his voice, have made the groves ring with a 
 music, not easily to be rivalled, and not soon to be forgotten. 
 
 S 
 
REMAINS, &c. 
 
REMAINS, ^c. POLITICAL. 
 
 CALHOUN S EXPOSITION.* 
 
 The sentiments of this distinguished individual, 
 having been for sometime before the American people, 
 and the reckless anathemas and sweeping denunciations 
 of opposing, and the servile and indiscriminate flat 
 teries of applauding partizans, having pretty well sub 
 sided, the time may be supposed, fairly to have arrived 
 for sober, unbiassed, calculating reason to make up her 
 final verdict We believe the recent expose, has 
 received as much unmerited censure, as undeserved 
 praise. By some, its author has been apotheosised as 
 the originator of a brilliant system of government, or 
 as the fearless champion of the old, discarded principles 
 of ninety-eight. By others, lie has been denounced ns 
 a reckless disorganiser, and determined disunionist. To 
 the former verdict we cannot entirely yield our assent, 
 but the latter opinion, we unhesitatingly disavow. We 
 can never believe, that this distinguished and most able 
 Statesman, would, under any circumstances, finally and 
 advisedly, pledge his high and responsible name to sen 
 timents of disrespect, and disaffection to the govern 
 ment of our adoption. It would be strange indeed, if 
 
 The title by which Mr. Calboun s theory on tb subject of nullification a 
 popularly recognized in South-Carolina. For thit theory in eitfnuo, as un 
 derstood by ita advocate*, *ee the correspondence between Governor Hamil 
 ton and Vice -President Ca!hoan, in July ami August, 1832; the various 
 addrewea and report* of the Convention held at Columbia, South-Carolina, 
 November, 1932, and the Ordinance to nullify, recommended by the name 
 body, and carried oat in in provbioM by the Mcceeding State Leg ml a tare. 
 See also, the tpeech of Mr Hayne <m Koofa re>laiioa m the Seaat* of to 
 I aitd Htatw, at a prtviow 
 
I MEMAlNS POLITIC AI* 
 
 he could. The obscure individual, to whom the door 
 of honorable fame is for ever closed, might find an ex 
 cuse for becoming the incendiary of the Ephesian Tem 
 ple: but what defence could be made for the Guardian of 
 theshrint, who had, himself, snatched a living coal from 
 the altarto wrap the fabric in flames? To the sincere and 
 honest conviction of Mr. Calhoun in the constitution 
 ality and fitness of his remedy, the independent attitude 
 he has assumed, his manly disregard of the personal 
 bearing of the question, his uncompromising devotion 
 to his oath to support the Constitution the exfjoae be 
 fore us bears ample testimony. We accord to him the 
 high and honorable eulogium of regarding truth, and 
 disregarding party: of preferring the interests of South 
 Carolina to the emoluments of the Union; of sacrificing 
 self to what he sincerely believed the cause of the 
 Constitution. In the chief point he has discussed, the 
 constitirtional question, we art* so unfortunate as to dif 
 fer with him. We diller honestly, after long and labo 
 rious reflection, and shall freely detail our grounds of 
 dissent. If we misconceive or mistate the qrrcstion, we 
 are sincerely desirous of correction. 
 
 We will, iu tail-ness, state this important constitu 
 tional question in the words of its originator: nor, in 
 deed, could we find language that more succinctly 
 embraces the whole ground in dispute. 
 
 "The question of the relation, which the State ami Gene 
 ral Government bear to each other, is not one of recent ori 
 gin. From thr commencement of our system, it has divided 
 public sentiment. Even in the Convention, while the Con 
 Ktitutioii was struggling into existence, there were two par 
 ties, J )!i to what this relation >huuKl bp, whose different senti 
 ments, constituted no small impediment in forming that 
 instrument. After the General Government went into ope 
 ration, experience soon proved that the question had not 
 terminated with the labors of the Constitution. The great 
 struggle, that preceded the political revolution of 1801, 
 which brought Mr. Jefferson into power, turned essentially 
 on it; and the doctrines and arguments on both sides were 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. 5 
 
 embodied and ably sustained; on (he one, in the Virginia 
 and Kentucky Resolutions, and the report to the Virginia 
 Legislature; and on the other, in the replies of the Legisla 
 ture of Massachusetts and some of the other States. 
 These resolutions and this report, with the decision of the 
 Supreme Court of Pennsylvania about the same time, (par 
 ticularly in the case of Cobbett, delivered by Chief Justice 
 M Kean and concurred in by the whole bench,) contain what 
 
 I believe to be the true doctrine on this important subject." 
 
 ****** 
 
 "Their great and leading principle is that the General Go 
 vernment emanated from the people of the several .States, 
 forming distinct political communities, and acting in their 
 separate and sovereign capacity, and not from all of the peo 
 ple forming one aggregate political community: that the 
 Constitution of the U. States is in fact a compact, to which 
 each State is a party, in the character already described; and 
 that the several States or parties, have a right to judge of its 
 infractions, and in case of a deliberate, palpable, and danger 
 ous exercise of a power not delegated, they have the right, 
 in the last resort, to use the language of the Virginia rcsolu-* 
 tions, ti to interpose for arresting the progress of the eri/, 
 and for maintaining within their respective 1 nnits, thr 
 authorities, rights and liberties appertaining to them.* 
 * 
 
 Where the diversity of interests exists in separate and 
 distinct classes of the community, as is the case in England, 
 and was formerly the case in Sparta, Rome, and most of the 
 free States of antiquity, the rational constitutional provision 
 is, that each should be represented in ihc Government, as a 
 separate estate with a distinct voice, and a negative on the 
 acts of its co-estates, in order to check their encroachments. 
 In England, the Constitution has assumed expressly thi 
 form; while in the governments of Sparta and Rome UK- 
 same thing was effected under different but not much les< 
 
 efficacious forms." 
 
 **** 
 
 "Happily for us, we have no artificial and separate classes 
 of society. We have wisely exploded all such distinctions; 
 but we are not, on that account exempt from all contrariety 
 of interests, as the present distracted and dangerous condition 
 of our country, unfortunately, but too clearly prove*. With 
 M^ they arc almost nrelntvrly gpographiml, faulting mainly 
 
tl KLMAIXS POLITICAL. 
 
 from difference of climate, soil, situation, industry and pro 
 duction, but are not, therefore, less necessary to be protected 
 by an adequate constitutional provision, than where the dis 
 tinct interests exist in separate classes. The necessity is, in 
 truth greater, as such separate and dissimilar geographical 
 interests, are not liable to come into conflict, and more dan 
 gerous when in that state, than those of any other dcscrip- 
 
 "This right of interposition, thus solemnly asserted by the 
 State of Virginia, be it called whal it may, stale right, veto, 
 nullification, or by any other name, I conceive to be the fun 
 damental principle of our .system, resting on facts historically 
 as certain, as our revolution itself, and deductions as simple 
 and demonstrative, as that of any political or moral truth 
 whatever, and I firmly believe that on its recognition do 
 pends, the stability and safety of our political institutions/* 
 
 Were we to star^ any general objection to the doc 
 trine of the Vice President, it would be, that it is too 
 metaphysical too vague too speculative. It appeals 
 more to abstract analogies Jian to practical illustrations 
 more to what might be the most perfect scheme of 
 government, than to what actually i.v the organization 
 of our own. It gives to human nature too much virtue 
 and forbearance; and while providing cheeks against the 
 cupidity of a majority, seems to apprehend no abuse of 
 power on the part of a factious and disorganizing minority, 
 in proof of, at least, one of our allegations, we would 
 refer to the sweeping assert ion, that //// nature even/ 
 individual has a right to govern hit/use If." The ex 
 pression is imposing at first sight, and seems to carry 
 truth along with it. The question however involves a 
 Jiice point in metaphysics, and may well admit of doubt. 
 \Vc do not cxprt-ss a definitive opinion at this time, but 
 will si in ply suggest a difficulty or two, that readily oc ; 
 rur. Man being born with the several qualities of IT 
 rjprocal enjoyment and protection bearing many rela 
 tions to his ft Hows, which can he developed only by the- 
 act of his congregating with them this situation would 
 appear to l>o a necessary fcaturr of his nature. More 
 
T? KM A INS rOLiTlCAI.. 
 
 OVLT, being found in a social state, and since what is 
 universal may be said to be natural society, with its 
 conditions and restrictions one of which we conceive 
 to be, in the emphatic language of Mr. Jefferson, "ab 
 solute acquiescence to the decisions of the majority" 
 is his proper situation. If so, to deny the right of 
 the majority to govern, is to oppugn a condition of So 
 ciety, and, as we shall hereafter shew, to shake the 
 main pillar of Republicanism. As if in anticipation 
 of these difficulties, Mr. Calhoun has drawn a vivid 
 picture of the evils of partial legislation, the likelihood 
 of interested majorities, and the disastrous and remedi 
 less situation of oppressed minorities. These points 
 are made to figure prominently on the foreground of 
 the sketch highly colored, and in bold relief. But 
 there are dark, as well as bright points, in the picture. 
 There are shadows, which obscure its brilliancy blob 
 \yhich mar the liberty of its coloring and irregulari 
 ties, destroying all the harmony of its proportions. 
 True, an interested majority may misconstrue the char 
 ter may enact unjust and unconstitutional laws. But 
 on the other hand, is it probable, that the decision of 
 a single confederate, alarmed for its rights deeply in 
 terested in the issue and goaded on by its passions 
 will prove more profound more temperate and more 
 impartial than that of the collective wisdom and virtue 
 of the whole Union? 
 
 "After a measure may have been framed with the greatest 
 wisdom and caution, and with the assistance of all those 
 guards which the Constitution has deemed indispensable, it 
 enables a single member of the government to undo every 
 thing to bid defiance to the government of its own choice; 
 and to commit, perhaps, an irretrievable injury to the inte 
 rests of every other member of the confederacy. And thii, 
 too, without putting it in the power of that single member to 
 cure, in any practical manner, the faulty legislation of which 
 it complain*. A power of this kind a power which is only 
 potent to do mischief U absolutely irreconcilable with the 
 preservation of our free institution*. " 
 
S REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 It appears to us, that the fundamental error of the 
 doctrine, one which runs through, and unconsciously 
 tinctures the whole theory, in claiming such ultra and 
 unheard of rights for the States, is a radical misunder 
 standing of the nalure of our government. The oppo 
 site extremes of our peculiar polity are CONSOLIDA 
 TION, on the one hand, and the STATE VETO or Nulli 
 fication on the other. The former would first crush 
 the confederate government, and then amalgamate the 
 particles into massnewly remodelling them and pre- 
 *<erving no trace of their original elements. This 
 would make us an unlimited consolidation, with no final 
 remedy in any measure of injustice, save in the "ultima 
 ratio re gum" The latter, would render the confede 
 racy a league (and one of a most peculiar character) 
 instead of a government* would subtract from the 
 wholesome powers of the Union, to annex a dangerous 
 prerogative to the States and, virtually, throw us back 
 upon the old, rotten, discarded, inefficient confedera 
 tion of 77. Our government, then, is strictly neither 
 entirely National, nor entirely Federal, but a mixture 
 of both. In its origin it is purely federal in its ope 
 ration it is purely national in its organization it is 
 partly federal, and partly national. 
 
 Mr. Calhoun, has. we think, been led away by con 
 sidering not what w, but what ought to be the character 
 of our civil polity. In settling it, he has been misled 
 by a deceptive view of the veto power in the different 
 branches of the British Government. He considers 
 these departments as representing distinct interests, and 
 derives their privilege of check from this contrariety. 
 This is not the case. Every branch of that government 
 represents partially, if not entirely, the same interests 
 
 The distinction here made by our author, between the character of a 
 league and a government, has been dwelt upon with much force and adrok- 
 m*s by a subsequent reviewer of the whole subject, in the North American 
 Review; in a long paper contained in the number of that journal for January, 
 1933, attributed, (though we doubt with correctness,) to the pen of Mr. Web- 
 ter. See jag 226 7 of that periodical 
 
REMAlNH-i-POUTlCAL. $ 
 
 with this, in the present instance, unimportant dis 
 tinction, that the Lords at-e a step above the Commons in 
 rank the Kin:; a step above the Lords. The lower 
 
 house represents the commercial and landed interest 
 
 the upper also represents thc litter, with no small 
 share of the nionied class. The King embraces both, 
 and has a check upon both. Precisely such is the 
 foundation of our checks of Jiflerent departments. It 
 could not be otherwise, for it is the simplest th-* least 
 dtfQlgUtoaing the most efficient. There is one diffe 
 rence, however, which republicanism has introduced 
 into our form. The veto of our Chief Magistrate dif 
 fers from that of the British throne, inasmuch as it is 
 not absolute, not final it is conditional. There is no 
 sound reason, then, for saying, thnt, since th- British 
 Constitution has provided for different classes by mutu 
 al checks upon each other, our Constitution should 
 secure different geographical interests by a more ex 
 tensive veto. 
 
 By Mr. Calhoun s theory, this declaration of the Con 
 federates in General Congress assembled, is neither a 
 nnv grant of power to Congress nor au amendment, 
 nor a fmtfafrcretct in any particular. It is limply an 
 expression of o/rin if ft the renewal rf a grant already 
 made or a nvtlMf/of a power never delegated. In 
 other words, the Convention is organized into a Court 
 of Justice a judicii l tribunal not to amend alter 
 remodel or abrogate the Constitution: but to pass sen 
 tence upon a law of Congress. For our own part, we 
 cannot see the difference between a settlement of the 
 Charter by three fourths of a Convention and an amend 
 ment. To one party it must partake estentially of that 
 character. South Carolina believes the Tariff law un 
 constitutional; if a Convention decides otherwise, it 
 is surely an amendment, as far as she is concerned. 
 If the. decision is in our favor, it is precisely the same 
 in relation to our opponents. "To this complexion it 
 mutt come at kst to construe a law, ad libitum, is 
 
 2 
 
10 HEMAIKS 
 
 by the position of the advocates of the veto on another 
 occasion, fully equivalent to the power to make or 
 amend. 
 
 If we are not mistaken in our interpretation of what 
 the advocates of the Veto term the ^settlement of the 
 Charter," it will be a very easy matter to demonstrate 
 its inconsistency with the letter of the Constitution. 
 It is admitted by Mr. Calhoun, and indeed by every 
 partizan on that side, though they differ among them 
 selves in other particulars, that the object the sole end 
 and aim of Nullification is, to force Congress to submit 
 the law in question to a General Convention, which 
 shall either formally cede the disputed power, by a 
 vote of three fourths, or deny it by a vote of more than 
 ont fourth. We pass by the inconsistency developed 
 in the difference between the vote necessary to guv, 
 and that required to deny the power. This ground 
 has been already occupied nor have we ever seen a 
 plausible rejoinder. But, to the point in hand. If to 
 declare to pronounce valid to "settle" be virtually 
 to amend then is the assumption on the part of a sin 
 gle State to force such an amendment palpably uncon 
 stitutional. There arc two (and only two) modes pro 
 vided by the Constitution to amend, revise, and abro 
 gate that instrument (Art. V. Sec. I.) "whenever 
 two thirds of both houses shall deem it necessary, or 
 upon application of two thirds of the State. Legisla 
 tures." This is the only legal mode the power so far 
 from being given to a single State, is expressly denied. 
 Now, if South-Carolina, by her Legislature or Con 
 vention, usurps this power, she violates the Constitution 
 she resists the Government of her own adoption she 
 places herself in an attitude of war, and is at once 
 without the pale and protection of the Union. Again, 
 if there is no such express prerogative given to a State, 
 if, on the contrary, it is expressly denied, can it be 
 found among the reserved rights? Can it be supported 
 by implication, construction, or what the niiltificrs call 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. II 
 
 the ** xdl lire of thing** and the "character of our Go 
 vernment?" No one, more deeply feels, or more sen 
 sibly deplores than ourselves, the fallen condition of 
 of this once glorious little State." No one more hear 
 tily desires her a safe egress from her pressures no 
 one more sincerely loves peaceable and constitutional 
 remedies, and no one, we are pleased to believe, 
 would he more willing to appft* them. Could we 
 think the veto safe, peaceahle and constitutional, we 
 would unite heart and hand with our opponents. But, 
 stubborn conviction forces u? to reject the proposed 
 remedy, (if that may he called a remedy, which rids 
 us of life?) and we cannot but believe, but, that, in order 
 to get rid of a vexatious (an ,1 we hope temporary) evil, 
 the advocates of the new system violate the very in 
 strument which th?y profess to desire to restore to its 
 original import and purity. 
 
 The ostensible end and aim of the veto is to compel 
 Congress to keep within, what, in the opinion of the 
 Nullifying State, is its legitimate sphere; by submitting 
 to the joint employers a doubtful act of the common 
 agent, not for purposes of amendment, but simply to 
 obtain an expression of opinion. Now >ve would en 
 quire, by what clause of the Constitution a state is in 
 vested with the power to call a General Convention not 
 to alter or to abrogate, but to pass a judicial opinion 
 upon a legislative act? We have searched for it in 
 vain nor can we admit of it by implication, construction, 
 or what the Nullifies term the "nature of things" 
 If a State ca a decide UJXMI the constitutionality of an 
 act of Congress, cither absolutely, or by requiring, 
 against its construction, a vote rqual to that which call 
 ed the Constitution into existence, then is the Judiciary 
 virtually abolished, and its powers transferred to each 
 and every State. The Constitution has, in the mosl 
 unequivocal language, appointed the Supreme Court 
 the tribunal of constitutional appeal making it inde 
 pendent* but in other respects feeble, strong in it 
 
12 HEMA1N!* POLITICAL. 
 
 own sphere, but powerless out of it in order tlilit it 
 might be safely interposed as a check upon the other 
 departments We do not say or believe that this body is 
 perfectly pi-ofound in theory, and admirable in its practi 
 cal operation. The assertion would imply, that itscrea- 
 toi-s were not men, and that itself is more than human. 
 We believe certain of the objections of the Vice Presi 
 dent to be well foiiiufcAl, and, to a certain extent, conclu 
 sive. But these relate to inherent defects of the Consti 
 tution, which can be remedied only by an amendment. 
 We believe that the concession of this power to the Su 
 preme Court is perfectly consistent with the admission, 
 that the power may not always have been rightly exerci 
 sed, arid may require rc-eon^identtion and re-adjustment. 
 At one period of our History, the Bench descended 
 from its high and responsible functions to become a 
 school of intemperate party harangues. But power 
 innst be trusted somewhere* and all hunnn trusts are 
 obnoxious to abuse still, if the People have the correc 
 tive in their own hanils, there is no reasonable ground 
 of complaint. Reasoning from abuses is decidedly the 
 least philosophical and satisfactory mode that can be adop 
 ted and under such an habit, we would reject all 
 Government, because misrule sometimes triumphs: all 
 Law, because villainy still stalks abroad without pun 
 ishment: all Medicine, because disease sometimes baf 
 fles its efforts. The Judiciary, whatever may be the 
 errors in its organization, though the weakest depart 
 ment of our government, has ever been esteemed the 
 strongest against the encroachments of the Legislature: 
 and when any change is to take place in its stricture 
 and capacity, we may well pause, before we prefer the 
 ardor, intemperance, and the, necessarily, tumultuous 
 character of an excited State Convention, to the cool, 
 dispassionate, reasoning habits of a learned, dignified 
 and temperate Bench. 
 
 -Ho\v the States arc to exercise this high power of inter- 
 position which constitutes so essential a portion of their re- 
 
KKMAINS rOl.lTlCAL. 13 
 
 i iglils that it cannot be delegated without an entire 
 surrender ft/ /heir sovrrcianft/, and converting our s>ys>iein 
 from z federal into a ru/j.W/</e//f/ government, i* a question 
 that the Slates only ore confident lo determine."" 
 
 Mr. Calhoun here hasvs the right of Slate interposi- 
 lio:i !>y veto upon the reserved sovereignty ofthe Slates. 
 His position i;*. that the confederates of the league, on- 
 .crj-ially/w, sovereign and independent, have not yiel 
 ded to Congress the pov-cr in cjiK- jon. or the ri.^ht to 
 ay*umt it by implication or construction. The Stales, 
 and each State severally, retain tiii^ ]x>wer by virtue of 
 \\\e\v re served soi //. Now, it so happens, thai of 
 
 the twenty-four conlederales v, hi< h at prv-enl compose 
 the Union, eferm were never govereign State*, and, of 
 coui se c-annol claim this right (f interposition. Here are 
 the two horns of a dilemma: choose either, and the case is 
 the same. If OIK: State possesses this right of vc-tn. it 
 must, by the pi-m Morn of the Constitution, lie common 
 to all. The ri^ht is claimed by virtue of powers ap 
 pertaining to ahovercigii community, \\hu-h have never 
 been ceded lo the common aguit: hut this \\ /is of sove 
 reignty throws its protection over the tliirte en original 
 parties alone: and yet we live under a government of 
 equal privileges, and under a Constitution which ex 
 pressly provides, that no preference shall he given to 
 nne Sute over another! To the scheme of our oppo- 
 ne.its. thi* objection, from their own shewing, appears 
 fatal: and a solution ofthe difficulty, if possible, would 
 not a little enlighten our understandings. 
 
 "Should the General Government, and a Slate come into 
 Conflict, we hare a hi^h remedy: the power which called 
 the General Government into existence, tvhich give it all of 
 its authority, and can enlarge, contract, or abolish its power* 
 at its pleasure, may be invoked. The States themselves 
 may be appealed to : three founhs of which, in fact, form a 
 power, whore decrees are the Constitution itself, and whose 
 voice can silence ail discontent The utmost extent then of 
 the powrer i, that a State acting in it^ sovereign capacity, a 
 ooe of Ibepartie* to the constitutiontl compact, may compel 
 
14 IlturAIXti POLITICAL. 
 
 the Government, created by that compact, to submit a 
 lion touching its infraction, to the parties who created it; 
 to avoid the supposed dangers of which, it is proposed to re 
 sort to the novel, the hazardous, and I must add, fatal pro 
 ject of giving to the General Government the sole and final 
 right of interpreting the Constitution, thereby reversing the 
 whole system, making that instrument the creature of its will; 
 instead of a rule of action impressed on it at its creation, and 
 annihilating in fact the authority which imposed it, and 
 from which the government itself derives its existence." 
 
 We cannot find the clause in the Constitution, which 
 authorizes Congress to call a Convention for any other 
 purposes, than to alter, amend, or abrogate the Charter. 
 The State interposition, be it remembered, only forces 
 a construction from tin? assembled confederates. We 
 are also at a loss to understand the force of the analogy 
 which gives the power of construing exclusively to 
 three-fourths, because three-fourths are requisite to 
 amend. Why not insist, because the Constitution was 
 unanimously adopted, that it should he unanimously 
 expounded? The analogy appears equally obvious and 
 conclusive. The error appeal s to be in imagining, 
 that there is a peaceable and universal remedy for all 
 governmental obliquities: a political panacea for every 
 abuse of power. It is beyond human ingenuity to con 
 trive such a system, as long as man is constituted with 
 his present passions. Power must be confided some 
 where, and will sometimes be overstepped. We have 
 provided every safeguard for its just administration, in 
 the responsibility of our National Senators and Repre 
 sentatives to the people: in the liability of federal of 
 ficers to impeachment: and in the independence of U. 
 States influence in the appointment of State functiona 
 ries. But after all these precautions, the Constitution is 
 a compact to be expounded by its test and spirit by 
 the facts of the case, and the provisions for expound 
 ing it which provisions none of the parties can consti 
 tutionally reject. The instrument provides that the 
 laws of the United States shall be the supreme law of 
 
RKMA1N9 I OUTlCAl.. 15 
 
 the land, and that the judges in every Stale shall br 
 hound thereby: any thing in the Constitution or laws of 
 any State to the contrary notwithstanding.* The 
 Charter ilso ordains, that the judicial power shall ex 
 tend to all cases in law and equity under thi<= Constitu 
 tion, &c.f This is the l:iw of the Constitution the ar 
 rangement of power and adjustment of interests may be 
 faulty may be dangerous: hut that such is the scheme 
 of our government, the language used is too explicit to 
 admit of a doubt. But we can entrust this point in 
 abler hands, and we gladly avail ourselves of superior 
 intellect and experience. Mr. Madison, in relation to 
 the tribunal of dernier resort, holds the following lan 
 guage: 
 
 "It is true, that in controversies relating to the boundary 
 between the two jurisdiction?, the tribunal which is ultimate 
 ly to decide, is to be established under the General Govern 
 ment. But this dors not change the principle of the caso. 
 The decision is to be impartially made according to the rule* 
 of the Constitution; and all ihc usual and most effectual pre 
 cautions are taken to secure this impartiality. Some such 
 tribunal is clearly essential to prevent an appeal to the sword 
 and a dissolution ofilic compact; and that >t ought to be es 
 tablished under the General, rather than the Local Govern 
 ments; or to speak more properly, that it could be safely es 
 tablished under the first alone, is a position not likely to be 
 combated." 
 
 If the State docs not possess this right of forcible 
 appeal, the exposition infers, that Confess is the final 
 judge of its own powers, and that ours is virtually a 
 consolidated government. We have already shewn, 
 that the Constitution provides another tribunal to settle 
 the question which the veto would provoke, viz: <fc has 
 Congress this power?* But independent of this, the 
 States, as well as Congress, possess their own mode of 
 appeal. If the one is satisfied of the legality of the 
 act, and declines submitting it to the amendatory tribu- 
 
 Totwtitxition, U. 8. 8e. 4, Art. VI. 2. 
 Mbd, Art. t, fee. 2. 
 
1C RKMAINH POLITIC \L. 
 
 nal, what ground of complaint have the oilier? Con- 
 grcss is satisfied: Let those who are dissatisfied, ex 
 ercise their Constitutional prerogative.* Let the 
 Sute draw up its view of the unconstitutionaHty of the 
 act-^-let it apply to the Legislatures of the other States 
 for their opinion let it respectfully* but firmly remon 
 strate agaimt tke. acl, and obtain a decision as the 
 Constitution points out. If this fails to assemble the 
 confederates, it ought to convince the appellate State? 
 that the call of a Convention would not alter the case: 
 but that the tribunal thus referred to, would infallibly 
 reject our claim. If, after this application of the Con 
 stitutional provision, the people deem the evil too 
 great for acquiescence, they need not unconditionally 
 and absolutely secede. Let them assemble in their 
 majesty let them take their vital interests in their 
 own hands let them make a final appeal let them 
 oLmnly adjure the goveinmcnt of their own choice, 
 to pause, or incur the mournful alternative of blotting 
 out one bright star from our political firmament of 
 effacing one stripe from our National flag. Let the 
 question b^ respectfully but firmly put renounce the 
 
 "This view of ihe writer HIM been followed up, more in detail, hy the Re 
 viewer, to whos paper on the topir in question, comprised in the North Ame 
 rican, wo have already referred . It will be seen hy tho hrief passage which 
 we subjoin, how nearly the two writer* coincide in their separate considera- 
 tion of tho point. The e viewer nay*-: "It would therefore be the dulv of 
 tho discontented State, instead of proceeding to nullify and throwing upon 
 ihe General Government the responsibility of bringing the subject before tho 
 other Suites, to be^in by addressing herself directly to the other Stales in the 
 way of consultation. Put in what form in ihii to bo done? The Vice Presi 
 dent tells us that the subject must bo brought before the States "iu the only 
 form in which, according to the Constitution it can be, by a proposition to 
 amend in the manner prescribed by that instrument " I Jut how does it a|>- 
 pear, that this is the only or the "proper form iu which the business can be 
 done? The object H to ascertain the meaning of the Constitution. Why 
 resort for this purpose, to a process intended for a totally different one. And. 
 a* wo have seen, wholly unsuitable and ineffectual for this? Suppose that aJI 
 the insuperable preliminary objections to which we have adverted are over 
 come; that the General Go\ernment has applied fora grant of the disputed 
 power, and that the States, as the Vice President would of courwe desire, ha\* 
 refused the application ; I ow would t!:e case then stand? Precixelv a* it do*s 
 
 iv. The, 4 ueBtion would sti!| he, what is the meaning of tho Constitution 
 
 It Ifi 
 
 now. 
 i it is 
 
RfcUAlXS POLITICAL. 17 
 
 Tariff not so much as an evil in itself, as implying 
 the existence of a right to impose other and greater 
 evils or renounce the Union? We do not believe, 
 that the present or prospective state of affairs would 
 warrant such a dreadful alternative, but let not the party, 
 of which we are, it is true, but an inefficient member, 
 be taunted as remediless.* We claim every right 
 which the Constitution provides, and are ready, when 
 occasion demands, to apply those rights which are above 
 nil Constitutions, the * right to fight* the right to re 
 sist oppression the right to appeal from man to Got . 
 
 "As strongly as 1 am impressed with the; great dissimilari 
 ty, and, I must add, as truth compels me to do, contrariety 
 of interests in our country, resulting from the causes already 
 indicated, and which are so great, that they cannot be sub 
 jected to the unchecked will of a majority of the whole, 
 without defeating the great end of government (and without 
 which it is a curse:) yet I see in the Union, as ordttinfd in 
 the Constitution^ the means, &c. &c." 
 
 In this passage, which substantially embraces the 
 whole theory, containing the fart-prvdiratcj (discord 
 ant interests, in the Confederacy] and the inference 
 deduced (the danger of legislation by a mere majority) 
 Mr. Calhoun has only thrown the weight of his authority 
 into the scale, and we are content to settle the ques 
 tion by this rule. We think we shall be able to throw 
 into our scale, sanction at least as high as Mr. Cal- 
 honn s; (by no means an easy task;) and to refute, by 
 the most unequivocal opinions of two of the patriarchs 
 of our country, each of the positions upon which his 
 doctrines are founded. Our quotations are from Presi 
 dents Washington and Jefferson, and are so singularly 
 appropriate, that they appear to have been penned for 
 the express purpose of answering the embryo theory of 
 Mr. Calhoun. If the question before us was, what is 
 the best government? and, not, what actually is the 
 government under which we live? we might alter our 
 
 TtwUaioB Party of 8ulhCarolm*ifheTrefrrmi to. 
 
 . 3 
 
18 REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 position, and adopt a different system of defence. But, 
 AS the question stands, our extracts conclusively shew, 
 that both of Mr. Calhoun s positions the fact- predicate 
 and the conclusion were repudiated by our earliest 
 and ablest statesmen, and formed no part of the gov 
 ernment under which they lived. Upon Mr. Cal- 
 houn s first principle ("geographical distinctions *) 
 President Washington holds the following Language : 
 "TiiE UNITY OF GOVERNMENTS, which constitutes you 
 one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so: 
 With slight shades of difference, you have the same re 
 ligion, manners, habits, and political principles." 
 "These considerations speak the most persuasive lan 
 guage to every reflecting and virtuous mind, and exhi 
 bit the continuance of the Union as a primary object of 
 patriotic desire, /y there a doubt, whether a common 
 government can embrace no large a sphere? l*t 
 experience solve, it. To listen to mere speculation, in 
 such a case were criminal." 
 
 These sentiments, though mildy, are emphatically 
 expressed. But the venerable father whose language- 
 they are, does not stop here. -In contemplating, 
 says he, "the causes which disturb our Union, it occurs, 
 as a matter of serious concern, that any ground should 
 have been furnished for characterizing* parties by geo 
 graphical discriminations Northern and Southern 
 Atlantic and Western; whence designing men may 
 endeavour to excite a belief that there is a real differ 
 ence of local interests and views. One of the expedi 
 ents of party to acquire influence within particular 
 districts, is to misrepresent the opinions and aims of 
 other districts. You cannot shield yourselves too much 
 against the jealousies and heart burning which spring 
 from these misrepresentations; they tend to render 
 alien to each other those who ought to be bound toge 
 ther by fraternal affection." 
 
 Could any thing be more calculated than the passage 
 above italicised to apply to the present condition of 
 
TIEMAINSPOLITICAL. 1$ 
 
 affairs! Was there not prescience in it the foresight, 
 alike of the prophet and the patriot? But there is yet 
 more, equally fruitful of prophetic warning and philo 
 sophic examination, in the prospective history of the 
 country. "I have already intimated to you" says he, 
 "the danger of parties in the State, icith particular 
 reference to the founding of them on geographical dis 
 criminations. The basis of our political systems is the 
 right of the people to make and to alter their ccastitu 
 tions of government; but, the constitution which at any 
 time exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic 
 act of the whole pc&pif, is sacredly obligatory upon all." 
 Thtis iiiuch upon Mr. Calhoun s first principle, and 
 ncrc we might well dismiss the controversy, for if the 
 premises are controverted, the inference, of course, 
 rests unsupported. But we will go farther, and de 
 monstrate from expressions of Mr. Jefferson, too un 
 equivocal to be for a moment misunderstood, that he 
 deemed (what Mr. Calhoun denies) the "right of elec 
 tion * to be a sufficient safeguard that he knew of no 
 other -and that the minority principle found no sup 
 porter in him. We quote from his Inaugural Address 
 of 1801, delivered two years after he penned his cele 
 brated Kentucky Resolutions, from which he has been 
 claimed as the corner stone of Nullification: with how 
 much truth this extract will in some measure shew. In 
 enumerating the "essential prmciplfs of our govern 
 ment, and consequently, those which ought to shape 
 its administration," he mentions "a jealous care of the 
 right of election by the people, n mild and safe cor 
 rective of abmes, which are lopped by the sword of re 
 volution where peaceable remedies are unprovided: 
 ABSOLUTE acquiescence in the decisions of the inajo- 
 rify, the vital principle of republics, from which there 
 is rto appeal but to force, the vital principle and imme 
 diate parent of despotism. 11 
 
 Again in dwelling upon them more at length, hr 
 says: "These principles form the bright constellation, 
 
20 . REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 which has gone before us, and guided our steps through 
 tn age of revolution and reformation. The wisdom of 
 our sages, and blood of our heroes have been devoted 
 to their attainment: they should be the creed of our 
 political faith, the text of civic instructions, the touch 
 stone by which to try the services of those we trust, 
 and should we wander from them in moments of error 
 or of alarm, let us hasten to retrace our steps, and to 
 regain the road which alone leads to peace, liberty and 
 
 *&!*" 
 
 "Nor ought they *o overlook, in considering the question, 
 the different character of lh?>laiius of the two sides. The 
 one asks from the Government no auVnr^a^es, but simply to 
 be let alone in the undisturbed possession of th**ir natural 
 advantages, and to secure which, as far as was consistent 
 \\ilh the other objects of the Constitution, was one of their 
 leading motives in entering into the Union; while the other 
 side claims, for the advancement of their prosperity the 
 positive interference of the Government. In such cases on 
 every principle of fairness and justice, such interference 
 oui^ht to be restrained, icithin limits strictly compatible 
 with the natural advantages of the other." 
 
 We unequivocally subscribe to the sentiment of the 
 extract above, as just, and in the true spirit of the Con 
 stitution; but we cannot perceive its accordance with, 
 at least, our version of the doctrine in question. It 
 is an undisputed maxim in Law, Legislation and Poli 
 tics Conveniet nulli ouad secum dissidit ipse" 
 that when inconsistency can be clearly stamped upon 
 any position, it is ipso facto fundamentally rotten and 
 not to be relied on. We proceed to the test. The 
 high toned, latitudiuarian spirit of construction, which 
 prevails in our federal legislature, authorizing every 
 encroachment upon thtt rights of a minority that an 
 overbearing majority may in their infallibility deem 
 proper, has been justly complained of by the Republi 
 can States; and by none more clamorously than South - 
 Carolina. The practice of Congress on this point is so 
 well kiiowp, that it is hardly necessary to advert to it. 
 
RfcMAINS rJ 
 
 They assume, in their omnipottncy, a power, not ex 
 pressly ceded to the charter, and refuse to yield it, un 
 less three-fourths of the States, met in Convention, 
 abrogate the assumption. That this is a disingenuous 
 subterfuge, subscribing to the letter, but violating the 
 spirit of the Constitution, South-Carolina has never cea 
 sed to exclaim. And yet, even by the varnished ac 
 count of Gen. Hayne, this is the very method for the 
 adoption of South-Carolina. She is to assume a doubt 
 ful power, and retain it unless forced to yield it to the 
 mandate of three-fourths of a Convention. Here arc 
 the two horns of a dilemma choose either and the 
 case is the same. If this is not resorting to that most 
 sophistical and uncandidmodc of reasoning viz. argu 
 ing in a circle we must confess our utter inadequacy 
 to determine what moral reasoning is. We call upon 
 the supporters of this doctrine to leap over this barri 
 er lo e xtricate their protege from between thcs;. two 
 fires from the talons of the Hawk, on the one hand, and 
 the beak of the Buzzard, on the other.* We think that 
 South -Carolina must cither retract her malediction of 
 the General Government, because of the assumption of 
 doubtful powers, or admit, that IKM* contemplated 
 course is parallel, and equally unconstitutional. Rut 
 \ve go further, and believe it can be shewn, that the 
 doctrine is subversive of the very State Sovereignty 
 it professes to support. We do not here intend, that 
 Mr. Calhoun countenances, or even admits by implica 
 tion this result; but it can be clearly deduced from lan 
 guage from a very high quarter, and is Rnother proof 
 of the vague and dangerous nature of the proposed re 
 medy. We do not here, also, intend, that State Rights 
 (eo nomine) are relinquished by the appeal to three- 
 fourths of the assembled Confederates, for what we 
 term State Rights emanate from that source alone. 
 Nor do we mean that State Sovereignty, which is in- 
 
 The reader here remised rf UM Tvlgar id*{* "Betwixt Hawk ori 
 
 
HEM. v I 
 
 alienable, is yielded up. We simply mean to point out 
 the incoasistency and disingenuonsness of a doctrine, 
 which professes to submit to the jurisdiction of a court 
 of stockholders, rights that flow from nature, and can 
 he relinquished only with life. This we are fully aware 
 is a serious charge against the . .illifiers men, many 
 of them, of undoubted patri" n and intelligence, and 
 in whose ranks are arrayed L^.ac of the most distinguish 
 ed sons of Carolina, and the South. It is for this very 
 reason, that we have so long intruded upon the patience 
 of our readers. U is because they arc strong, and are 
 respectable, and are influential, that we have made an 
 humble eflbrt against, what we conceive, their honest 
 errors, and unintentional hallucination. We feel no 
 disposition to support the cause we have espoused, by 
 branding our advci-sarics with the epithet "Traitors" 
 or "Disunionists." We believe the contrary; we be 
 lieve that both parties are true to their country, and 
 that they are striving for what they believe, its political 
 salvation. They differ only a* regards the remedy. 
 This, indeed, so far as the entire South is concerned, 
 is the point of difference, yet in issue, and now for set 
 tlement; and this, by the way, is difference enough. 
 Rut, let us to the point in hand, without further di 
 gression. 
 
 "Sovereignty,* say they Mr. Senator Hayne, 
 among them "is a something too high and majestic to 
 be submitted to the jurisdiction of a Court! God and 
 our right hands are the only arbiters. Any other doc 
 trine leads to abject submission ," If this language- 
 means any thing if it means to imply in the term Sove 
 reignty, those prime essentials of civil and religious li 
 berty which our forefathers fondly imagined they be 
 queathed to their children we say with them. Their 
 determination is ours, and we flatter ourselves that we 
 should be among the very last to yield up, whatever 
 the disparity of force, any portion, however slight, of 
 that high patrimony. But how is Nullification consis- 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. &> 
 
 tent with a determination so made with an obligation 
 so imperative. The inconsistency is before us suffi 
 ciently gross, and *he who runs may read." The 
 veto doctrine has little in it of this glorious and manful 
 resolution. It is a poor device, and that must be in 
 deed a beggarly sovereignty which looks to it for sus 
 tenance and shelter. 
 
 The remedy contended for, be it remembered is not 
 final is not absolute. It is conditional. It annuls 
 the law not 111 toto not forever hut only tilt three 
 fourths of the State resort to it. They claim a sover 
 eign, reserved, constitutional, right, and then yield it 
 up. They give to three fourths of a Convention the 
 unlimited, arbitrary, uncontrollable power of an Aulic 
 Council, and pledge themselves to abide by its decree, 
 however unjust and unconstitutional. They say, tlir 
 Tariff Law is intolerable, it is grinding us to the dust, 
 it is oppressive and unjust it is a "del iln rate, palpa 
 ble and dangrroTis violation" of the Constitutionand 
 we will nullify it. Rut if three-fourths met in Conven 
 tion decide, that it in not so that HLACK is WIIITK, 
 AND WIIITK HI.ACK that it is constitutional and politic, 
 we will subset I thought it be intolerable we art 
 bound to submit. 
 
 If this is not yielding up the Sovereignty of the States 
 and to the very worst hanrls too, we candidly confess 
 our utter inability to understand the first and plainest 
 principles of logic. What has the South, and especi 
 ally South-Carolina to hope from such a change in the 
 Constitution? It has been justly said, that we contri 
 buted more than any people of America to build up the 
 magnificent structure at Washington under whose 
 weight we feel, or think, ourselves sinking. Let us not 
 pull it in ruins over ourselves. If it must fall, let it 
 bury our oppressors. 
 
 "No one, says Mr. Calhoun, "can have a higher 
 respect for the maxim, that a majority ought to govern, 
 than I have, taken in its proper sense, subject to the 
 
24 REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 restrictions imposed by the Constitution, and confined 
 to subject in which every portion of the community 
 have a similar interest: but it is a great error to suppose 
 as many do, that the right of a majority to govern is a 
 natural and not a conventional right." 
 
 The principle here entertained and ex pressed- --de 
 nying, in fact, in the teeth of its estimated value, the 
 right of the majority to govern the minority, forms the 
 leading, and indeed, the essential feature in the theory 
 of Nullification. We have already shown, in another 
 place, and in the language of Mr. Jefferson, that, v//;- 
 xo/>tte acquiescence in the decisions of the majority" 
 constitutes the main pillar of Republicanism, and is, in 
 fact, a natural, and not a conventional right. This lat 
 ter distinction, however, is of no practical importance. 
 The doctrine in its real an-1 important hearings inevita 
 bly leads to aristocratic influence, and is nearly, if not 
 entirely asobjcctionnnle as the avowed principle of the 
 elder Adams, -that aristocracy is natural, and therefore 
 unavoidable." We do not here intend, that Mr. Ca!- 
 hoim s ostensible motive only appears, while the real 
 lies concealed in his own breast. Nor do we mean, 
 that he countenances the absurdity, into which Mr. 
 Adams fell, of believing that "nature creates Kings and 
 aristocracies/- But we contend, that in its practical 
 operation his theory leads to the same results. What 
 ever detracts from the rightful prerogative of the ma 
 jority, to increase thereby the influence of the minori 
 ty, is of aristocratic tendency. A pure aristocracy is 
 nothing more than the rule of a minority; a mixed aris 
 tocracy is giving that minority undue and dangerous 
 powers. We will, for the present, content ourselves 
 with controverting Mr. Adams proposition inciden 
 tally noticing that of the Vice-President of necessity, 
 f i% om the similar tendency of the two- --but reserving 
 our objections m extemo to the latter for another oc- 
 crtsjon. "Whether the human mind is able to circum- 
 sc ribe its own powers, is a question between the two 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. 25 
 
 modem political parties. One (of which Mr. Adams 
 was a disciple) asserts, that a man can ascertain his own 
 moral capacity deducing consequences from this pos 
 tulate and erecting thereon systems of government. 
 Right (say they) hecause natural. The other, ob 
 serving that those who afiirm the doctrine* have never 
 been able to agree upon this natural form of Govern 
 ment? and that human nature has been perpetually es 
 caping from all forms, considers government ussir^cepti- 
 bleof unascertained modification and improvement, from 
 moral causes. To illustrate the question, let us con 
 front Mr. Adams opinion, "thut aristocracy is natural, 
 and therefore, unttvoidablf" with one "that it is arti 
 ficial or factitious, and therefore cvitablc." He seems 
 to use the term "natural to convey an idea distinct 
 from moral, by coupling it with the idea of fatality. 
 But moral causes, being susceptible of human modifica 
 tion, events flowing from them possess the quality of free 
 dom or evitation. As the moral efforts, by which ig 
 norance or knowledge are produced, are subjects them 
 selves of election, so ignorance and knowledge, thr 
 effect of these moral efforts, are also subjects of elec 
 tion; and ignorance and knowledge are powerful moral 
 causes. If, therefore, by the term "natural,*] Mr. 
 Adams intended to include moral, the idea of fatality 
 is inaccurately coupled with it: and if he resigns this 
 idea, the infallibility of his system, as being **naturar* 
 must also be resigned. That he must resign his politi 
 cal predestination and all its consequences, we shall at 
 tempt to prove, by shewing, that aristocracies, both an 
 cient and modern, have been variable and artificial, 
 that they have all proceeded from moral, not from nat 
 ural causes; and that they are evitable and not inevi 
 table. 
 
 An opinion "that nature makes kings or nobles has 
 been the creed of political fatalists from the commence 
 ment of the world: and confronts its rival creed "that 
 liberty and slavery are regulated by political law." 
 
However lightly Mr. Adams may spenikof Firmer (Mr. 
 Calhoim would doubtless do the same) it is au opinion 
 in which they areassociatedj and is selected for discus 
 sion, because by its truth or falsehood, the folly or wis 
 dom of the policy of the United States is determined. 
 Mr. Adams rears his system u|>cn two assertions: "Thai 
 there are only three general forms of (lovernment ma 
 narchy, aristocracy and democracy of which all other 
 forms are mixtures: and that every Society natural!) 
 produces an order of men, which it is impossible to 
 confine to .an equality of fights." * 
 
 Political |K>wcr in one man, without division or rcsjxMi 
 sibility, is MONARCHY: the same power in a (minority) 
 few, is AititfTOCKACY; and the same power in the 
 whole nation is DKMOCHACY. And the resemblance of 
 our system of government to either of these forms, de 
 pends upon the resemblance of a President or Governor 
 to o Monarch: of an American Senate to an heredita 
 ry order: and of a House of Representatives, to a Le 
 gislating nation. Upon this threefold resemblance Mr. 
 Adams has seized. **to bring the. political xystnn of 
 
 * These ar source* of iiu quality, whirh are common to evcrv people andcaij 
 yr bo altered by unv, became Ihey art fouled in thr constitution of 
 ture. ton* natural .Irittucracy among m-mkind has IMH-U dilated on 
 eo.-iusc ,i i- 4 a essential to be coiwulcred ui the coust.tution of a govcru^ 
 uieiit. It wabod> ol nun, which contai,,- tlu- tr f at t ;t collection flirt**, 
 andab.ntirsmt f^ government, the brightest ornament ami K loru of a 
 Aut.on; antialway, may bt ,nad f the K rcalel biffin* f S+cittl, if it 
 be j,u l. -musly ii.unag.-d in the Courtilution. Hut if it not, U i* ilw.,. the 
 mo, t d..iigeroas;-i, tt y, it ...ay be added, it never failn to bo the destruction of 
 th, ( onunonwealtl, What nhall be done to R uard aguin-l it. There Tbu 
 on.- e. M x.d,ent dwcovcrcd , to avail society of all the brndits from tlu, body o 
 ncu. whch they ro capable of affonlinp, and at the ,a,nc time, prevent them 
 fr,,u, -n^rmmmg or mvad.n- the public liberty :- ffln J thai L, to thro* 
 H.mal torut itatt tht i<i*f rimarkablt vf them into on ai.t 
 L f" la ": i t0 k ^P *" h "ecut.ve power entirely 
 
 nr 
 
HUM A INS - POLITICAL. 17 
 
 . {/Hcrica wj I/tin the pule of the English system of 
 check* and balances* by following the analysis of anti 
 quity:* and in obedience to that authority by modify 
 ing our tempgrary. elective responsible governors into 
 monarchs: our jena es intoaristoeratical orders: and 
 our representatives into a nation pc!*sonally exercising 
 the functions of government."! 
 
 * * -> * * 
 
 Mr. Calhoun thus indicates the authority upon \vliiHi 
 lie grounds his theory, and, liaving for its countenance 
 so much that is matter of history, we shall dwell awhile 
 upon its consideration. He tells us vide* Exposition 
 chat, the question of the relation which tLc State? 
 aiul General Government bear to each other, is not one 
 of recent origin. From the commencement of our 
 .system, it has divided public sentiment. K\eh in the 
 Convention, while the Constitution was struggling into 
 existence, there were two parties as to what tlvi* rela 
 tion should be, whose different sentiments constituted 
 no small impediment!!! forming that instrument. After 
 the General Go> crnment went into operation, experience 
 soon proved that the question had not terminated with 
 the labors of the Convention. The great struggle that 
 preceded the political revolution of 1801, which 
 brought Mr. Jefferson into power, turned essentially 
 on it; and the doctrines aud arguments on both sides 
 were embodied and ably sustained; on the one, in the 
 Virginia and Kentucky resolutions, and the. report to 
 the Virginia Legislature; and on the other, in the 
 replies of the Legislature of Massachusetts and some of 
 the other States/ 
 
 It had been, heretofore, our opinion that the evidence 
 against the authorities here relied on, was so over 
 whelming. so perfectly impregnable, that no hardihood 
 of disputation would have encouraged the advocates of 
 
 Ha* not Mr. Calboan done tta aame> Han not norb a 
 **+n ataayi prwcnt to hn eye io thf formation .of 
 4 Jhn Tnjrlor, of Carolinr 
 
28 REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 this or any other heresy to look in such a quarter for 
 countenance or support. As, however, we have 
 thought idly, and find ourselves, in this particular, 
 sadly mistaken, while all our impression^ are contra 
 dicted hy authority 80 high it is a duty once again to 
 go over and reconsider the great body of proof, upon 
 which the argument depends, and of which, our pre 
 vious consideration brought us to a conclusion, entirely 
 the reverse. From the speech therefore of General 
 llayne, we shall tike the text which that gentleman 
 and others of the creed have relied on, and proceed 
 to its rc-cxamiuation, though with a serious and irre 
 sistible doubt whether our optics will yet sufficiently 
 serve to discover in it the most remote or passing sanc 
 tion for that strange and extravagant solecistti. in terms, 
 at least, which is called Constitutional Nullification. 
 Better senses and an understanding of more accommo 
 dating and flexible temper than that of which we may 
 boast, may however succeed in an endeavor, which, to 
 our present vision, is beyond all hope. 
 
 The resolutions, after premising the true origin and 
 policy of our Government, go on to say <% that in case 
 of a deliberate, palpable and dangerous exercise of 
 other powers not granted by said coin pact, the States, 
 who are parties thereto, have the right," &c. 
 
 We have quoted the very language of the resolution, 
 and what is its plain and common sense signification? 
 Allow that the Government is an agent, who arc the 
 principals? They, it seems, have the right to check 
 the agent when going astray, and who ever doubted it? 
 We will not trouble the reader with dwelling upon the 
 obvious import of the quoted resolution, which refers 
 to *thc States, who are the parties," and not to any 
 one of them, to determine upon the action of the 
 government, equally an agent of the rest, and of all en 
 tire, as of herself. 
 
 In addition to the above resolution the General As 
 sembly of Virginia "appealed to the other States, in 
 
HEM A1NS- POLITICAL. 29 
 
 ihc confidence that they would concur with that com 
 monwealth, that the acts aforesaid/ (the Alien and 
 Sedition Laws) "are unconstitutional and that the 
 necessary and proper measures would he taken by each 
 for co-operating with Virginia/ &c. [ Where is (he 
 necessity of "CO-OPERATION" between the States, if 
 ONE State possessed the power to nullify and so SAFE. 
 PEACEABLE and EFFICIENT apower too?~\ "It appears 
 to your committee/ (concludes the report,) "to be a 
 plain principle/ &c. "that the parties themselves 
 must be the rightful judges in the last resort/ &c. 
 [Docs not the very first blush of the affair furnish 
 irrefragable proof? jVot ONE. says the report, but ALL, 
 or a REQUISITE NUMHKK of t/tr parti cx.~\ Nullifica 
 tion by these focwmgit/ier?" in (General Convention: 
 [Not by ONE sovereignty.] vide Report. 
 
 Considering this point, though of sufficient force iu 
 itself, in a comparative point of view, as of little import- . 
 ance to the true merits of the question, we have argued 
 it in the simplest manner. It was our object to take 
 our adversaries upon their own ground: and we have* 
 even there, as we believe, convicted them by their own 
 lowing from the very resolutions upon which they 
 have raised their fabric of its shadowy instability. 
 If, after reading this protest with the ralm composure 
 of men, regarding truth, and disregarding party, any 
 one can believe it to have any other import than, that 
 in the case of a dangerous exercise of powers, not grant 
 ed, to the General Government, the States, acting col 
 lectively, may discard an oppressive Government, and 
 substitute another in its stead, we must say of his 
 commentary with BAYES in the CRITIC - Egad! the 
 interpreter is the harder to be understood of the two/ 
 
 To dwell upon Mr. Madison s (usually called the 
 Virginia.) Resolutions of 98. as a support of the Caro 
 lina Doctrine of the Veto, would be entirely unnecessa 
 ry for two reasons. The case, according to our Nu41i- 
 fier*. must be one of a "deliberate, palpabk* and dange- 
 
3O JIKMAINS FOL 
 
 rows violation of the charter; such as they believe the 
 Tariff of 28 to he. Now Mr. Madison expressly and 
 unequivocally advocates the entire constitutionality of 
 said law. How is this? Can we adopt his opinion iu 
 die one case and reject it with disdain in the other? 
 Can any man of common honesty ai-gue *o shamelessly 
 wwiitl the circle? But our evidence is far from being 
 merely presumptive. It is well known, that Mr. Mar 
 dison denounces as the re very of moon-struck Politici 
 ans, the modern and partial construction of his draft, 
 and disavows the doctrine of the Veto in every shape: 
 that he protests against the perversion of his name and 
 opinions, and regards in "mute astonishment" the new 
 fangled remedy, which has been artfully misnamed the 
 "Carolina Doctrine." The language, which, iu his let 
 ter of June, 1830, to the Editor of the North American 
 Review, he holds on this subject is not to be mistaken; 
 and it was only at a period of time, in which "madness 
 ruled the hour" that the clear and able productions, re 
 cently, of that distinguished statesman, could be set at 
 nought, and charged upon him as the. fruit either of a 
 moral or mental imbecility, and indeed of both an im 
 putation, sufficiently answered by the history of the 
 country, and the folly of which is too notorious and self 
 evident to need remark or rebuke. 
 
 -That the Legislature of Virginia," says the veteran 
 statesman, "could not have intended to sanction such a 
 ddCtritte (as that of Nullification in the sense in which 
 it is understood by some of the South-Carolina politi 
 cians) is to he inferred, he says, "from the debates in 
 the House of Delegates, and "from the Address of the 
 two Houses to their constituents, on the subject of the 
 Resolutions. The tenor of the debates discloses no re 
 ference whatever to a constitutional right in an indi 
 vidual State to arrest by force the operation of a far 
 of the United States Concert unions? the States for 
 redress against the Alien and Sedition Laws, <u acts of 
 usurped power, was a leading sentiment; and the attain 
 
1U.MAINS - 
 
 Hftit of a concert, the immediate object of the coin-sir 
 adopted by the Legislature, which was that of inviting 
 the other States *to ronrttr in dec In ring the acts to he 
 unconstitutional, and to co-o/nn/fc in the necessary and 
 proper measures, in maintaining, unimpaired, the an- 
 thoritics, rights and liberties reserved to the States 
 respectively, and to the people. That In the ncccssnr) 
 and projvjr measures to be tonrvrrrnthj find co-ojnra- 
 tirc/y taken, were meant measures, kuoirn to the Con 
 stitution. particularly the ordinary control of the peo 
 ple and Legislatures* of the States, over the Govern 
 ment of the Tinted States, cannot he doubted." 
 
 He goes onto add "It is worthy of remark, and 
 
 explanatory of the intentions of the Legislature, "that 
 
 thtWOrdUfto! lan\ but. utterly, null. void and of no 
 
 force ami cjfect." which had followed in one of the Re- 
 
 solutions the word "unconstitutional," were struck out 
 
 by common consent. Though the words were in fact 
 
 synonymous with unconstitutional." yet, to guard 
 
 against a misunderstanding of this phrase as more than 
 
 declaratory of opinion, the word "unconstitutional" 
 
 alone was retained, as not liable to that danger. The 
 
 Resolutions were Mr. Madison s and the fail- inference 
 
 is, that he knew something about them. It is to be sup 
 
 posed, that he knew their true meaning, and could put 
 
 the correct construction upon them; but as the charge 
 
 of inconsistency or duplicity, or both, to which we have 
 
 already briefly referred, has been somewhat insisted 
 
 upon by some of the illustrious obscures of our own 
 
 day and region, it may be well, particularly as the 
 
 means are in onr power, to rebut the ungracious impu 
 
 tation. 
 
 In the session of the Virginia Assembly, following 
 that when the resolves were passed, the responsive re 
 solutions of the other States #ere referred to a com 
 mittee, and from this committee Mr. Madison made 
 his famous Report, reaffirming the principles of the re 
 solution* of 1798. Towards the close of this Report* 
 
32 REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 he is led to inquire into the objections to the seventh 
 resolution, and on this subject he speaks as follows: 
 
 44 It is lastly to be seen, whether the confidence expressed 
 by the resolution, that the necessary and proper measure* 
 would be taken by the other States, for co-operating with 
 Virginia in maintaining the rights reserved to the States, or 
 to the people, be in any decree liable to the objections which 
 have hecn raised against it. 
 
 "If it be liable to objection, it must be because cither the 
 object or the means are objectionable. 
 
 "The object being to maintain what the Constitution has 
 ordained, is in itself a laudable object. 
 
 "The means are expressed in the terms, "the necessary 
 and proper measures." A proper object was to be pursued, 
 by means both necessary and proper. 
 
 "To find an objection, then, it must be shown that some 
 meaning was annexed to these general terms, which was not 
 proper; and, for this purpose, cither that the means used bv 
 the General Assembly were an example of improper means, 
 or that there were no proper means to which the terms could 
 refer. 
 
 "In the example given by the State, of declaring the Alien 
 and Sedition Arts to be unconstitutional, and of communica 
 ting the declaration to the other States, no trace of improper 
 means has appeared. And if the other States had concurred 
 in making a like declaration, supported too by the numerous 
 applications flowing immediately from the people, it can 
 scarcely be doubted, that these simple remarks would ha?c 
 been as sufficient, as they are unexceptionable. 
 
 "It is no less certain, that other means might have been 
 employed, which are strictly within the limits of the Consti 
 tution. The Legislatures of the States might "have made a 
 direct representation to Congress, with a view, to obtain a 
 rescinding of the two offensive acts; or, they might have 
 represented to their respective Senators in Congress, their 
 wish, that two-thirds thereof would propose au explanatory 
 amendment to the Constitution; or two-thirds of themselves, 
 if such had been their option, might by an application to 
 Congress, have obtained a Convention for the same object. 
 
 "These several means, though not equally eligible in 
 themselves, nor probably, to the States, were all constitu 
 tionally open for consideration. And if the General 
 Assembly, after declaring thetwoactato beunconstitut o-~ 
 
REMAINS poi.mrAt,. ;\;\ 
 
 <he first and most obvious proceeding on the subject, did not 
 undertake to point out U the othor States, a choiro amour 
 the farther measnrcs that might become quite nece -wry and 
 proper, the rccrve will not l>e misconstrued by liberal 
 minds into any culpable imputation. 
 
 Here we sec wh;it sort of tnrans were contemplated. 
 
 They were first, declarations that the laws were unconsti 
 tutional; secondly, direct rtprt9t*tmlio*9 from the Legisla 
 tures of the States to Congress, to obtain the repeal of <r* 
 laws; thirdly, request* to their Senators in Confess to 
 propose an amendment of the Constitution; fourthly, a con 
 currence of .wo thirds of the States to apply to Congress for 
 a Convention to amend tl>c Constitution. "These arc nil the 
 measures which Mr. Madison suggests, and he introduces 
 them by saying, that they arc all "within the: limits of the 
 Constitution." 
 
 Independent, however, of these resolutions, the 
 Apostle of Lilxvty" has been claimed, from the ex 
 pression of his private opinions, as the corner-stone of 
 the doctrine. \Ve put gei.tlcmen upon their resources 
 \nd ask them when, and how, and where, Mr. Jefferson 
 supported this doctrine? His letter to Mr. Rowan has 
 been satisfactorily nettled, ns merely asserting the pro 
 tecting influence of the Judiciary over the unconstitu 
 tional acts of Congress. Hut is it not enough to show 
 that this truly great man never advocated such a paptr- 
 shame such unmanly and disingenuous subterfuge. 
 We can also conclusively prove, that he ftrnnoiinrrrf 
 his iiHf-f/i irora/ denial of the p.r^/rttrr of xitrh u right. 
 In December, 1825, not long befiirc his death, Mr. 
 Jefferson was consulted by Governor Giles, to ascertain 
 the best mode of resisting the Congressional encroach* 
 inents, which were becoming more and more alarming, 
 We shall never forget the firm, direct and determined 
 tone of his response. After deploring the invasions of 
 the General Government, he continues "and what is 
 our resource for the preservation of the Constitution? 
 Reason and argument? You might as well reason with 
 the marble pillar encircling them. Shall we then 
 stand to our arm*, with the hot-he*del Georgian. 
 
 a 
 
34 
 
 No, we must have patience and long endurance with 
 our brethren, and separate from our companions, only 
 when the sole alternatives left, are a dissolution of the 
 Union, or submission to a government of unlimited 
 power. Between these evils" [where then was thii 
 middle ground, Nullification, the efficient* peaceable 
 and constitutional remedy? ] "we must make a choice, 
 there can be no hesitation." (Vide Correspondence, vol. 
 iv. p. 421.) Mr. Jefferson here unequivocally asserts 
 that between disunion and acquiescence there is no 
 middle ground no universal political remedy save 
 the old-fashioned method of going to law, and appealing 
 to a jury of our countrymen. 
 
 What was the species of opposition to unconstitu 
 tional legislation intended by him* can be seen in every 
 pngc of his works, particularly in his letter of June 1, 
 1798, to John Taylor, of Caroline, in which lie por 
 trays with the force of truth, the value of th j Union 
 and the disastrous consequences of its dismember 
 ment.* 
 
 "// I* true that we ttre completely under the Middle of 
 Massachusetts and Connecticut* und they ride us very 
 hard, cruelly insulting our feeling*, //s irell an cjrhttust 
 ing our strength tmd subsistence. 
 
 Their natural friend?, the three oilier Ka.sU.-ru Slates, 
 join them from a sort of family pride, and they have the art 
 to divide certain other parts of the Union, so as to make use 
 of them to govern the whole. This in not new; it is the old 
 practice of despots to use a part of the people to keep the rest 
 in order. And those who have once got an ascendancy and 
 possessed themselves of all the resources of the nation, their 
 revenues and offices, have immense means of retaining their 
 advantage. But, our present situation is not a natural one." 
 *** 
 
 "Be this as it may, in every free and deliberating society, 
 there must, from the nature of man, he opposite parties and 
 violent dissentions and discords, and one of these for the most 
 part, must prevail over the other tor a longer or shorter time. 
 Perhaps this party division is necessary to induce each tn 
 JeflVreon * Correspondence, vol iii. p^e 83. 
 
RHUAINS POLITICAL. 3$ 
 
 h and debate to the people, the proceedings of the other. 
 Hut, if on a temporary superiority of the one party, the other 
 . * to resort to a scission of the Union, no general government 
 ran ever exist. If to rid themselves of the present rule of 
 Massachucttsand Connecticut, we hrcak the Union, will the 
 evil Mop there? Suppose the Nevv-Kngland Slates alone rut 
 off, will our natures be changed? Are we not men still to 
 the south of tint and with nil the passions of men? Imme 
 diately we shall sec a Pennsylvania and a Virginia party arise 
 in the residuary confederacy, and the public mind will be 
 distracted with the same party spirit. What a game, too, 
 will the one parly hnve in their hands by eternally threaten 
 ing the other, that unless they do so and so, they will join 
 their northern neighbors. If we. reduce our Union to Vir 
 ginia and North Carolina, immediately, the conflict will be 
 established between the representatives of these two Stales^ 
 :MM! they will end by breaking into their simple units. Sec- 
 ing therefore, that an association of men, who will not quar 
 rel with one another, is a tiling which never yet existed, 
 J rom the greatest confederacy, of nations, do.vn to a town 
 meeting or a vestry; seeing that we must have some body to 
 <juarrel with, I had rather keep our New-England associates 
 tor that purpose than to sec our bickerings transferred to 
 others." 
 
 These, and the extracts which follow, show us, that 
 Mr. Jefferson had, at the time ofVriting some little 
 time before the vmifoant patriots of South-Carolina had 
 discovered the grinding oppression. already beheld all 
 the evils of the confederacy as well as its benefits, to 
 the Southern Suites that he had turned it over in his 
 mind, and come to the conclusion, that it would be bet 
 ter to await events, and take advantage of the change 
 and modification of the many interests which make up 
 the whole country, than, in a fury of unmeasured pat 
 riotism, fly to the evils of a new condition of which no 
 thing was known. "A little patience," says the old 
 philosopher, with a temper quite the reverse of the 
 genuine Nullifier in Carolina, "a little patience, and 
 we shall sec the reign of witches pass over, their spell* 
 dissolved and the people recovering their true sign, res 
 toring their government to its true principle*. It if 
 
3$ REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 true that in the mean tinie we are suffering deeply it 
 spirit and incurring the horrors oft war, and long op 
 pressions of eriermous deb . But \\ho can say what 
 would lie the dttChiion, and when and where, they 
 would end, if we keep together as we are." 
 
 "If the game runs sometimes aguinst us at home we must 
 have patience till luck turn*, and then we wiil have an op 
 portunity of winning hack the principles we have lott. For 
 
 this is a game where principles are the stake." 
 
 **** 
 
 But, after all, tmv Mr. Jefferson the author of these 
 velehrated Resolutions? Throughout his posthumous 
 works, the doctrine of the- veto, in the Carolina sense 
 of the term, i* not once alluded to. The Draft of ? 99 
 he hut once mentions, (Vide Correspondence, vol. iii. 
 p. 428) in a letter, Septe mher .5, 1799, to Wilsoo Ca 
 rey Nicholas; in which he "dtcfintt preparing /any 
 M //*#," and suggests it to Mr. Nicholas, of w hose abi 
 lity lie has left ample testimony. The Kentucky Re 
 solutions hear the date of Nov. 24. 1799 their author, 
 known only hy surmise and rague conjecture; though 
 we imagine, little doubt can linger upmt my mind after 
 this refusal of Mr. Jefferson, Tin; letter is, on many 
 accounts, worthy of citation. 
 
 <4 I had written to Mr. Madison, as I had before informed 
 you, and had stated to him BOUIC general ideas for considera 
 tion and consultation when we should meet, I thought some 
 thing essentially necessary to be said, in order to avoid the 
 inference of ucyniesence; that a resolution or declaration, 
 should he passed." 
 
 In oilier not to appear to acquiesce, a resolution or 
 declaration against xhe unconstitutionality of the act, 
 was thought as sufficient as lie appeared to hold it ne 
 cessary. He goes on, and his language is worth con 
 sidering. 
 
 "1. Answering the reasonings of such of the States as have 
 entered into the field of reason." 
 
 The distinction here evidently implied between the- 
 field qtrtoeon and action, calls for no finger point. 
 
REMAIN S fOI.tTICAL. .17 
 
 "And that of the committee of Congress, taking some 
 notice, too, of thc*e States, who have either not answered 
 .at all, or answered without reasoning. 2. Mnking firm pro- 
 tastation against the precedent and principles." 
 
 // was Mf,<z mere prtt&it and embodying of public 
 opinion? 
 
 "Expressing ; n affectionate and conciliatory language our 
 warm attachment to union with our sislur State?, and to the 
 instrument and principles by which we arc united; that we 
 arc willing lo sacrifice this, every thing, but the rights oi 
 self-government in those important points which we have 
 never yielded and in which alone we see liberty, safety and 
 happiness; that not at all disposed to make every measure 
 of error or of wrong, a cause of scission, we arc willing tp 
 look on with indulgence, and to wait with patience tHl those 
 passions and delusions shall have passed over, which the 
 Federal Government have artfully excited to cover its own 
 abuse and conceal its designs, fully confident that the good 
 sense of the American pertple, and their attachment to those 
 very rights which we ait; now vindicating, will, before it 
 shall be too late, rally with us round the .true principles of 
 our federal compaat." 
 
 7 he "Good sense of the People? then* and the re- 
 Jinx of opinion fonnt-d Jefferson* st remedy? Jlre ire 
 afraid to confide in it now, or do ire beficre it less than 
 at that time? Jlnd irhere was the Jrjfersonian Yi/ 
 Hfication then? 
 
 <4 I proposed to Mr. M. to write you, but he observed that 
 you knew his sentiments so perfectly from a former confer 
 ence, ?hat it was unnecessary. As to the preparing any 
 thing, I must decline it to avoid suspicions (which were 
 pretty atrong in some quarters on the late occasion) and 
 because there remains still (after their late loss) a mass of 
 talents in .Kentucky, sufficient for every purpose. The only 
 object of the present communication is to procure a concert 
 in the general plan of action, aa it is extremely desirable that 
 Virginia and Kentucky should. pursue the same track on thit 
 occasion. Besides, how could you better while away the 
 road from hence to Kentucky, thin in meditating thi very 
 subject, and preparing something yourself, than whom no* 
 body will do it better. The low of your brother and the 
 
."IS ULMA1N6 t*OUriCAL. 
 
 visit of the apostle * * * to Kentucky, cxcilo anxiety. 
 We doubt not that his j>oiM)ns will be effectually counter 
 worked. Wishing you a pleasant journey and happy return, 
 I am, with threat respect and sincere esteem, dear sir, your 
 effect ioaatc friend and servant. 
 
 THOMAS JEKFEUSOX." 
 
 We think we have put the advocates of the veto 
 upon their resources as far as authority is concerned: 
 and conclusively shown, that the doctrine rests without 
 the least shadow of support from Madison or Jefferson. 
 Since, however, great names have such an influence 
 in settling the question, we cannot forbear availing 
 ourselves of sanction of a similar character. We select 
 for the present occasion, names, of which eulogy front 
 us would be superfluous those of Cheves McDufTic 
 and Patrick Henry. 
 
 Mr. Cheves, in his letto* to the Columbia meeting, 
 20th September, 1830, holds the following language: 
 
 O/i Nullification, anothcM of ihc specific modes of action 
 which have been suggested, I think a construction has been 
 put, in this State, different from that which Jefferson 
 and Madison, and the I irginia and Kentucky Legisla 
 tures intended it should bear. 1 do not say a less correct 
 one. They, as I suppose, considered it tt mere declara 
 tion of opinion on the part of the State of the inviolability 
 of the law. Nullification in this sense has a/ready been 
 adopted by this State and a majority of the Southern 
 States.* 
 
 It is not habitual with us to succumb to the conviction 
 of others, or yield our own opinion to the authority of 
 great names. But were we disposed to do so, we know 
 n<> one, whose unsupported dictum we would more rea 
 dily adopt than that of the individual we liave just 
 named. 
 
 The following is a forcible illustration of Mr. M - 
 Dtiflie in 1824, in whose masterly essays of that year is 
 
 *Mr. Cheves, here referred to, ha, more recently than in the paper quoted 
 Crum in the text, given hi* opinion* at large on the subject of Nullification and 
 ila correlates. Se "Occaiional flen>r.." N<* 1,2, 3, published ia 
 Charleston, by J. 8. Bur^e* 
 
RKMAINS - POLITICAL. 
 
 to be found a triumphant refutation of this new* ami 
 speculative doctrine: 
 
 "A man who will contend th;it our government w a con- 
 ^cderacy of independent States, whose "ind pendeni sorcr- 
 ignfy was never in any t/r^rrr rri,onnrr(f," and that i| may 
 be "controlled or annulled nt the will of the several indepen 
 dent States or Sovereignties, can be scarcely rrginlcd as bo- 
 longing to the present generation." The several indepen 
 dent States control the General Government! This is anar 
 chy itself. Let us see how it will operate. Congress de 
 clare war, and appoint officers to recruit soldiers for the tie- 
 fence of the country. Can nny State in the Union prevent 
 enlistments, hy denouncing penalties against the recruiting 
 officers. 
 
 Suppose the attempt to he made, a$ it actually was, in one 
 of the federal States, during the last war. The officer of the 
 government is arrested and committed to prison, to ho tried 
 understate law, "for recruiting; soldiers for the service of 
 the United States, * to prosecute "an unrighteous war." 
 \\ould the General Government be snhjert to this "control 
 of an independent sovereignty?" Would not the Federal 
 Courts have a clear constitutional right to pronounce the 
 State law unconstitutional, and discharge the prisoner? It 
 i* indeed, almoM a self evident proposition, that "the State so 
 vereignties" cannot, in any degree," control the General 
 Government, in the exercise of its powers." I idc intro 
 duction to speech on Internal Improvement in 1824. 
 
 "In his "One of the People- lie holds the following 
 KamniAge, which we prefer quoting to any thing we 
 could ofTer on the same subject: 
 
 "What security, then, did the Convention, or in other 
 words, "the People of the United States," provide, to res 
 train their functionaries from Usurping powers not delegated, 
 and from abusing those, with which they arc really invested? 
 Was it by the discordant clamors, and* lawless resistance of 
 the State mlcrs, that they intended to "insure domes! ictran- 
 quility and form a more perfect union?" Was it by the 
 officious interference of their inferior agents appointed for 
 no other purposes, than those indicated by the State Consti 
 tutions, that they intended to "insure tsa lutary control over 
 their superior agents?" No the Constitution will tell you, 
 what is the real security they hv provided. It is the res- 
 
46 KKMAIXS POLITICAL. 
 
 ponsibility of the officers of the General Government, not t* 
 the State authorities, hut to themselves, the People. This, 
 and thit only is the great conservative principle, which lic 
 at the foundation of all our political institutions, and sustains 
 the great and glorious fabric of our liberty. Tins great trutn 
 ought to be kepi in constant and lively rcmcmber ancc by 
 every American. " p. 2. 
 
 "As far as 1 can collect" (says he to the Trio) *an distinct 
 propositions from the medley of unconnected quotations, 
 you have made, on this very important subject, I under 
 stand you to affirm, that in expounding the Federal Consti 
 tution, we should be "tied down to the strict letter" of that 
 instrument; and that th3 (iencrul (iovernment "was not 
 made the exclusive or final judge of the extent of the power* 
 to be delegated to itse/f, but that, as in all other cases of 
 compact, among parties having no common judge, each 
 party had ti right tojud%efor Use If: these may be consi 
 dered the concentrated essence of all the wild and destruc 
 tive principles, that have ever been advanced in relation to 
 
 the subjects under consideration." p. 13. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 h 
 
 "To suppose that the General Government has a constitu 
 tional right to exercise certain powers, which must operate 
 upon the people of the States, and yet that the government 
 of each Staic has the right to fix and determine its own rela 
 tive powers, and by necessary consequence to limit the 
 powers of the General Government, is to suppose the exis 
 tence of two contradictory and inconsistent rights. In alf 
 governments, there mut be some one supreme power? in* 
 other words, every question that can arise, as to* the consti 
 tutional extent of the powers of different classes of function 
 aries, must be susceptible of a legal and peaceable <letermina- 
 tion, by so-ne tribunal of acknowledged authority, or forco 
 must be the inevitable consequence. And where force 
 begins, government ends." 
 
 "Patrick Henry, in his last speech against the-Constitu- 
 tion, had said, in 1788, (Wirt s Life, p. 297,) "If I shall be in 
 the minority, I shall have those painful sensations, which snsc 
 from the conviction of being overpowered in a good cause. 
 Yet I will be a peaceable citizen. My head, my band, and 
 my heart shall bc-ficc to retrieve the loss of liberty, and re 
 move the effects of that system, in a constitutional way. 
 I wibh not to go to violence? but will wait with hopes, that 
 
RKMAIXS POLITICAL. 41 
 
 tfoc spirit, which predominated in the revolution is not yet 
 none, nor the cause of those \vlio arc attached to the Revolu 
 tion yet lost. I shall therefore* patiently wait, in expecta 
 tion of seeing that government changed, so PS to be compati 
 ble with the safety, liberty, and happiness of the people." 
 
 "What Patrick Henry meant by Oil* "constitutional way," 
 i.i explained in his speech to the people, at the election in 
 1 70S; for, although be was then nearly sixty-three, he 
 offered himself as a candidate for the House of Delegate?; 
 because he believed the sentiments ami conduct of his own 
 Virginia, in relation to the Alien and Sedition Law?, to be 
 unconstitutional and dangerous. He said to the people, 
 
 " That the late proceedings of the Virginia Assembly, 
 had filled him with apprehensions and alarm; that thcv had 
 plan cd thorns upon his pillow; that they had drawn him 
 from that happy retirement, which it had pleased a bountiful 
 Providence to bestow, and in which he had hoped to pass, 
 in cjuiet, the remainder of his day: that the S ato had quit 
 ted the sphere in which she had been placed by the Consti 
 tution; and in daring to pronounce upon the validity of 
 federal laws, had gone out of her jurisdiction in a manner not 
 warranted by any authority, and in the highest degree 
 nlarming to every considerate man; that s-ich opposition, on 
 the part of Virginia, to the acts of thn General (Government, 
 must beget their enforcement by military power; that this 
 would probably produce civil war; civil war, foreign allia.i- 
 ccs; and that foreign alliances must necessarily end in sub 
 jection to the power called in. Mr. Henry proceeding in 
 his address to the people, asked, whether the county of 
 Charlotte would have authority to dispute an obedience to 
 the laws of Virginia; and he pronounced Virginia to be to 
 the l n ion, what the county of Charlotte was to her. Hav 
 ing denied the right of a State to decide upon the constitu 
 tionality of federal laws, he added, that perhaps it might be 
 necessary to say something of the merits of the laws in 
 question. His private opinion was, that they were good 
 and proper. But, whatever might be their merits, it be 
 longed to the people, who held the reins over the head of 
 Congress, and to them alone, to say whether they were 
 acceptable or otherwise to Virginians; and that this must be 
 done by way of petition. That Congress were as much our 
 representatives as the Assembly, MM had as good a right to 
 our confidence. He had seen with regret the unlimited 
 
 6 
 
KKMAIXS POLITICAL. 
 
 power over the purse and sword consigned to the General 
 Government; but he had heeu overruled, and it was not 
 necessary to submit to the constitutional exercise of that 
 power. If, said he, I am asked what is to be done when a 
 people fuel themselves intolerably oppressed, my answer i 
 ready: Overturn the (rorernt/ient. Hut do not, 1 be 
 seech you, carry matters to thi.* length, without provocation. 
 Wait at least until some infringement is made upon your 
 rights, and which cannot otherwise be redrosed; for if ever 
 you recur to another change, you may bid adieu forever to 
 representative government. You can never exchange the 
 present Government, but for a moiiurcby." //Vr/V Life of 
 f/t nry, p. jy3-:)<>5. 
 
 \\ lien the resolutions of Viri^nia were communicated to 
 the other Slates, they were disapproved in coumcr-rcsolu 
 tions, by Delaware, Uhode Island, Massachusetts, New- 
 York, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Vermont. We 
 mention theso States, as being those whose counter-resolu 
 tions are appended to the Virginia Report of 17 J J. Thai 
 other State* not enumerated did not approve //tr//j, we 
 take fur grunted. That any State responded to them, be 
 sides Kentucky, docs not appear from any document within 
 our reach. We believe no State but Kentucky concurred. 
 It is stated particularly "that S jnth- Carolina took no part 
 in the sentiments and conduct of I irginia in 1798, in re 
 ference to the *ilien and Sedition Laws" 
 
 In the discussion of this grave question, we have re 
 lied rather upon the authority of others, than upon any 
 arguments, in especial, of our own. Of these, we have 
 ma.ie liberal ust, as our extracts readily testify. Yet 
 have we by no means exhausted all the points of the con 
 troversy. They crowd upon us as we proceed, and 
 the accumulaiing masses of papers before and around us, 
 warn tis strongly of tile unadvised density of our own 
 labours. The thousand particulars, by* which, the 
 iiJ-w (angled theory towhidi our speculations have been 
 given, might readily he overthrown, acquire new force 
 and authority, to our mind, the more we examine into 
 t and them. But we have now neither space nor 
 time lor further remark, and will content ourselves 
 with a couple of brief extract* from the masterly com 
 
KK.MAINS - POLITICAL. 
 
 .fiieiilnries of Chancellor Kent upon American Law. 
 The train of reasoning made use of in these passng>-s ap 
 pears so admirably adapted to. and so completely sub 
 versive of. the notions which the Nullification doctrine 
 embodies, that it would appear to have been expressly 
 designed and written for the appearance of thatembrvo 
 and half-formed theory of Mr. Calhonn. 
 
 "The powers of Congress, as enumerated in the Articles 
 of Confederation, would perhaps have bron competent for all 
 the essential purposes of tho t nion, had they been dnlv ills- 
 tnbutcd among the departments of a well balanced govern 
 ment, and hern carried down, through the medium of a fe 
 deral, judicial and executive power, to the individual citizens 
 oi the (.moil. The exclusive cognizance of our foreign rela 
 tions, Inn rights of war ami peace, and the right to make un 
 limited requisitions of men and money, were confuleJ <o 
 
 XHtftTW, and the exercise of them w .s binding upon the 
 Mates. But, in imitation of all the former confederacies of 
 independent states, cither in ancient Greece or in modern 
 hurope, the Articles of Confederation carried the decrees of 
 the federal council to the States in their sovereign or collec 
 tive capacity. This was the great fundamental defect in 17*1; 
 it led to its eventual overthrow; nnd it lias proved pernicious 
 "r destructive to all other federal governments which adop 
 ted the principle. Disobedience to the laws of the Tnion 
 must either be submitted to by the government to its own 
 Jisgrtcc, or those laws must bo enforced by arms. The 
 mild influence of the civil magistrate, however Urongly it 
 may be felt and obeyed by private individuals, will iwi be 
 Heeded by an organized community, conscious of its strength, 
 and swayed by its passions. The history of the federal go! 
 vernmcnts of Greece, Germany, Switzerland, and Holland, 
 afford melancholy examples of destructive civil war spring 
 ing from the disobedience of the separate members. I will 
 mention only a single instance to this effect, taken from the 
 a;cnerally uninteresting annals of the Swiss Cantens. H\ on 
 of the articles of the Helvetic Alliance, the Cantons wcrr 
 bound to submit any difference which, might arise bet wen; 
 them to arbitrators. In the year 11 to, a dispute arose be 
 1 ween Zuric on the one side, and the Cantons of Schwciiz and 
 
 Mans on the other, respecting some territorial claims. Zu- 
 nr refused to submit to a decision agninst hrr, nnd the ron 
 
44 UK MAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 tending parties took to arms. All Switzerland was of course 
 armed against /uric, the refractory member. She sought 
 protection from her ancient vnemy, the House of Austria, 
 and the controversy was not terminated in favor of the fede 
 ral decree, until after six yenrs of furious and destructive war. 
 
 "Had there heen sufficient energy in the government of 
 the United States, under the Articles of Confederation, to have 
 enforced the constitutional requisition*, it might have proved 
 fatal to puhlic liberty; for Congress, as then constituted, was 
 a most unlit and unsafe depository of political power, since 
 all the authority of the nation, in one complicated mass of 
 juris liction, was vested in a single body of men. It was, 
 indeed, exceedingly fortunate, as the event has subsequently 
 shown, that the State Legislatures even refused to confer 
 upon Congress the right to levy and collect a general import, 
 notwithstanding the refusal appeared to he extremely disas 
 trous at the time, and was deeply regretted by the intelli 
 gent friends of the Union. Had such a power been granted, 
 the effort to amend the Confederation would probably not 
 have been made, and the people of this country might have 
 been languishing, to this day, the miserable victims of a 
 feeble and incompetent Union. 
 
 "Most of the federal constitutions in the world have 
 degenerated or perished in the same way, and by the same 
 means. They are to be classed among the most defective 
 political institutions which have been erected by mankind 
 for their security. The great ami incurable defect of former 
 federal governments, such as the Amphyctionic, the Aehzran, 
 and Lycian confederacies in ancient 11 recce; and the der- 
 manic, the Helvetic, the Honseatic, and the Dutch republics, 
 in modern history, is, that they were sovereignties or sove 
 reigns, and legislations, not for private individuals, but for 
 communities in their political capacity. The only coercion 
 for disobedience was physical force,* instead of the decree 
 and the pacific arm of the civil magistrate. The inevitable 
 consequence, in every case in which a member chooses to be 
 disobedient, is either a civil war, or an annihilation ot na 
 tional authority. 
 
 A late history of Poland, in one or two of its passa 
 ges, allbi-ds us. in strong confirmation of the views 
 above expressed, a few particulars, the quotation of 
 which \ve cannot forbear. 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. 45 
 
 "It was in the reign of Casimir that the lihcrtitn veto 
 (Nullification) or privilege of the deputies to stop u!l pro 
 ceedings in the Diet by a simple dissent, first assumed the 
 form of a legal custom. The leaven of superstition and 
 bigotry, s,iys Rulhiere, *bcg;m to ferment and blend itself 
 with all the other vires of the constitution; they then became 
 closely united, and their junction defied all remedy. // 
 then that in the bmnm of the Rational * 1sf>e mhty 
 t//? this singular finurr/ty, trhirh^ under the jii eiejrt nf 
 making the COJU/l/tf/lOJi more Jirm, ht;s destroyed hi 
 Pola nd all torereign ]nncrr. The right of single opposi 
 tion to general decrees, although always admitted, was lor a 
 longtime not acted upon. There remained but one Mep to 
 complete the destructive system, and that was taken in 1652, 
 under the reign of John Casimir. A Polish noble n.inicd 
 Si/.inaki, whom his contemporaries have denounced to the 
 indignation of posterity, having left ihe Diet at the period 
 allotted for its resolutions, and by his voluntarv absence 
 preventing the possibility of any unanimity, the Diet consid 
 ered that it had lost, its jxwer h* the desertion of one depu 
 ty. A precedent so absurd, but so easily imitated, could 
 not fail to have the most pernicious effects 
 
 Saxony was Augustus* most agreeable residence, ?u,d a 
 he was obliged to return to Poland during the sessions of tho 
 Diets, he was always pleased to see them suspended by the 
 tifarum ir/o, and always contrived to effect the rupture 
 himself, if the deputies happened to be themselves unani 
 mous. It is said that on one occasion, the Diet being 
 uncommonly Jong-lived, not knowing how to force a veto. 
 he turned over the Polish law?*, and discovered that it was 
 illegal to debate by candle-light; accordingly he ordered his 
 partisans to prolong the debate till night, and to call for can 
 dles. They were brought, and immediately th 1 Poles, who 
 *train at a gnat, when privilege is concerned, exclaimed 
 against the violation of the laws, and the Diet was dissolved. 
 This was almost the invariable termination of the sessions, 
 during the thirty years which this reign lasted. The slate 
 of affairs may be readily imagined: all public business was 
 at an end: the chief officers were almost uncontrolled, and 
 no ministers were sent to foreign courts. The pospolitc 
 neglected all military exercises, and became a mere mass of 
 men, courageous, it is true, but without arms, without disci 
 pline, and cqurdly incapable of commanding and obeying/* 
 
IU.MAIN* 1 OLITICAL. 
 
 THE DOCTRINE OF THE VETO. 
 
 [The spirit of the following article, which formed 
 one of the political newspaper essay* of Mr. Richard 
 son, is somewhat more popular than that of the long re 
 view which he has more jKirticularly given of the doc 
 trine of Mr. Calliouii. It is for this reason, in part, 
 that we have concluded on its re- publication, with the 
 risk of repeating some of those views which are more 
 fully detailed in its predecessor. En.] 
 
 Were we to take the doctrine of the veto at the haud> 
 of its several advocates, we should find it mere plastic 
 clay in the moulds of the potter every one frames it 
 into the shape i>cst suited to his taste and temperament. 
 It is continually varying its position, changing its garb, 
 ant shifting the source of its operations. Like the 
 (Irccian Drama 
 
 wodo ponit floum* nwdo .7//?o?/v 
 and it would he just as rational to take the brick of the 
 foul of Pakephetus as a specimen of the house, as an in 
 dividual Nntlifieras a representative of the party Mo 
 which he helongs. One derives the right from the 
 nature of things" another from the Deelaration ot 
 Independence! one from the provisions of the Constitu 
 tion another from the law of nature, ahove all con 
 stitutions: one turns to the Virginia and Kentucky Ue 
 solutions another to the law of nations: one points 
 to thr example of particular States another pins his 
 votive faith to the sleeve of the A|M>st)c of Liberty. 
 Quoitsf/ue tandem ulnittre nostra Jtalinttin? 
 
 We will briefly submit a few objections to the thcon . 
 taking as our text-book the E.r/jwe of the distinguished 
 Statesman, whose opinions we discuss more at large iu 
 another place. These objections strike us, as fetal to 
 the doctrine. As yet, they are unanswered, and xvt 
 
RKMA1NS - I Ol.mCAL. 
 
 believe they are unanswerable: emphatically. 
 
 The doctrine of Nullification is new and specula 
 tive, but lately developed, scl lorn intelligibly stated, 
 and not settled to this day. (iniinnuttici ccriunt* rfc 
 How conies this? Does not the fact speak volumes 
 -gainst it? Has it lain in obscurity since the adoption 
 of our Constitution upwards of forty years, _ oi 
 ls it a new theory? The original objection to tilt- 
 adoption of the charter was, that it subtracted too much 
 power from the States, but this counter check was ne 
 ver even hinted at by way of rejoinder! I low shall 
 this be accounted for? \Ve panse for a reply. 
 
 By the doctrine, the right is claimed f,>r*the Slate 
 of determining the extent of her jurisdiction, and fol 
 lowing up her judgment with acts. This, by the law 
 of nations, puts her in the condition of the absolute in 
 dependence and undivided sovereignty she possessed 
 previously to entering into the Federal Compact: and, in 
 so doing, she rejects, and is above, the authority of the 
 Constitution. True, this assumption is a m<rm/ right. 
 but it i* at the same time one that is inu/iciuih/c. 
 
 t has been urged, if Congress be the ultimate judge 
 of the power* delegated to itself rejecting the autho 
 rity of the Supreme Court that the will of the majo 
 rity is substituted for the Constitution, and Stair Snrer- 
 tignty subverted. But is it not equally evident, if a 
 single titate\wl the .sole creator, employer, or own 
 er of the Federal Government, can, at pleasure arrest 
 its laws, that the Union is subverted? 
 
 Again, if this right be possessed by one State, it must 
 inhere in all, together with the means of enforcing it. 
 without which the mere abstract right would be a non 
 entity a word, not a thing a shadow, not a sub 
 stance. But by what process could Tennessee nullify 
 the Tariff Acts? She has no sea-port to declare free 
 no citizens to absolve from Custom House bonds no 
 .smugglers to pronounce patriots. She might* like the 
 
48 HKilAlXS POLITICAL. 
 
 Roman Tribune, pronounce / e/o" I forbid it. She 
 might go farther, ami add, with a sovereign State s con 
 tempt, the rescript of the Emperor ^car teleat notrr 
 /tldisir; - hut the Atlantic States would tell a different 
 tale. They would remain precisely where they are, 
 and the "safe, peaceable, and efficient remedy would 
 eventuate in * </m//j/ tjn<ickcry" or "steel r/iV/. v 
 
 It is said, that since three-fourths are required to 
 confer upon Congress a mw power, the sane majority 
 is necessary to settle a r//\/yi//rr/ grant of power, and 
 make a law under it valid: that the Constitution was 
 adopted by sovereign parties, and that they have 
 the right to expound it. But the Constitution was ac 
 cepted unanimously, must it therefore be expounded 
 unanimously? If the method of its ratification decides 
 its construction, this would he the unavoidable conces 
 sion. Is this the government we live under? 
 
 We cheerfully admit, that there may be circumstan 
 ces of hardship attending the passage of a law of a bare 
 majority, and that the Tariff Acts of 182H were of that 
 character. It would be hard indeed that a majority 
 of one should definitively settle a question of great ves 
 ted interest. But would it not be infinitely harder, 
 that the same law should be passed by no majority at 
 <///, but by a minority? The inconsistency and con 
 fusion into which the minus principle would lead us, 
 irresistibly recalls the retort of Peter Pindar to the 
 sophistical Paine. The latter was arguing, that since 
 the majority of mankind were fools, the minority, as 
 the collected wisdom of the State, should have supreme 
 command. The wit moved, that it be put to vote, 
 the company acquiesced in the reasoning, and Paine 
 looked around triumj h mtly. Hold* says Pindar, "the 
 majority are fools. I, the intelligent minority, decide 
 just the contrary.* So we go! 
 
 South-Carolina, in her Legislature assembled, has 
 declared the act a deliberate, jxilpable and dangerous 
 usurpation of power/ and that she will, with this con- 
 
Kf.MAfNS POLITICAL. 49 
 
 stitntional conviction, refuse to pay the duties still re 
 main under the protection of the Government, whose 
 law she annuls---and that the Government has no right 
 to coerce her. Pennsylvania, on the other hand, with 
 a dissenting minority of six votes, declares that the same 
 Tariff is constitutional and politic, and that she w ill and 
 is hound to pay the duties. Pennsylvania, then, pays 
 the imposts and South-Carolina does not and yet we 
 live under a just^Government and under a Constitution* 
 which expressly provides, that no one State shall re 
 ceive a preference over another! (Vide Art. IV. Sec. 2.) 
 Again, the power of the State veto in question is claim 
 ed as a rescrrnl right. It is a right to force a call of a 
 General Convention a right to settle coitftitnlional 
 difference?. Now the reserved rights of the States are 
 such as they had before the adoption of the Constitu 
 tion. Had the States, hcforc the adoption of the char 
 ter, any right to settle yfief/jfNiJ which did not c.rixt? 
 The professed object of the veto is to put a stop to 
 i in/j/ied power- --to check sweeping assumptions hy con 
 struction. Hut. we fearlessly challenge the wildest 
 dreams of Federalism, to produce an implied power on 
 the part of the Generil Government equal to this on the 
 part of South-Carolina. It is one of those things of 
 
 which we may say credo quiu \mbouibik e.st. 
 
 But if this doctrine is odious in theory, in practice 
 it is hideous indeed. The United States House, Sen 
 ate and President, declare a war against Great Britain: 
 South-Carolina deems it unconstitutional and forthwith 
 proceeds to Nullification. The war is checked a 
 Convention must he called, and three-fourths decide 
 against us. This will occupy a full year, if not more, 
 and meanwhile the enemy is de.stroying our merchant 
 men or perhaps devastating our fields and the other 
 memb ers of the confederacy cannot constitutionally 
 move an inch in their defence. They must patiently 
 wait, nntfl three-fourths deliberately settle the question 
 before tbey presume to keep their throats uncut! 
 
50 IIKMA1NS POLITICAL. 
 
 We will now proceed to show, that the doctrine of 
 the veto rests without the least shadow of support from 
 the Federalist, where \vc should most of all expect to 
 find it. We might here put the suppoiters of the rc- 
 jnedy in rather an awkward situation. We might re 
 cur to our legal and logical right of placing on their 
 shoulders the burthen of proving, that it is sanctioned 
 by this exposition of our government. It is sufficient 
 for us to deny it, and cull for the proof. But, we ..ill 
 give them every advantage. The writer of the Exposi 
 tion claims authority for his doctrint from the nature 
 of our government, and the pages of the Federalist. 
 The former ground we will examine hereafter, the lat 
 ter is now before us. We have read this commentary 
 upon our Constitution, calmly and attentively, and we 
 challenge our opponents to point out one passage, which 
 can be tortured by implication or construction into the 
 remotest sanction of their creed. No. IX. discusses 
 the "utility of the Union as a safe-guard against domes 
 tic faction and insurrections." The writer (Alexan 
 der Hamilton) defines a "confederate republic," asser- 
 tains its "extent, modification and objects/ and dis 
 tinguishes between a "confederacy and a consolidation," 
 but not one word of the veto. No. XV. has for its 
 subject "the defects of the present Confederation, in 
 relation to the principle of legislation for the Statvs in 
 their collective capacities." No. XVI. XVII. XVIII. 
 XIX. and XX. continue the subject, with numerous ex 
 amples. But the South-Carolina veto is no where to 
 be detected. No. XLV. discusses the "supj>osed dan 
 ger from the powers of the Union, to the State Govern 
 ment," No. XLVI. continues the subject and examines 
 the "comparative influence of the Federal and State 
 Governments." These latter Nos. were written by 
 Mr. Madison, a member of the Convention, and prin 
 cipal writer in the Federalist. He here speaks of the 
 encroachment of the Federal Government, "its influ 
 ence over the States" "plans of resistance to be con- 
 
ItF.MAINS POLITICAL. 51 
 
 * combinations against its innovations, -but 
 the Carolina doctrine is not hinted at. These arc 
 the only numbers of the Federalist, that bear upon the 
 question; in none of them is this new-fangled remedy 
 found to exist. Where then is it to be met with? 
 
 Of all the Hydras and chimrrras dire, * that ever 
 haunted the distempered imagination of man, this ultra 
 notion of States Rights is the most extravagant, ridicu 
 lous and unaccountable. The State forsooth, is to nul 
 lify and render invalid a law of Congress a supreme 
 edict of the land and wait until it is restored by three- 
 fourths met in Convention. We will wait until dooms 
 day or the millcnium! We have already asked by what 
 authority we can force them to call a General Conven 
 tion? Where is the constitutional power? When 
 was it given to the States? In what part of the instru 
 ment is it to be met with? Is it expressed, implied, 
 construed or assumed? Now, take it for granted, that 
 we have the right to try this experiment? suppose the 
 rest of the confederated States refuse to call a Conven 
 tion? What becomes of us? Is not the State we put 
 the question boldly and require as direct an answer 
 is she not in a state of opposition unconstitutional op 
 position to the General Government? Is she not a Dis- 
 Unionist a Sccedcr a Revolutionist? If not, what i* 
 her attitude? 
 
 If the power of annulling a law of Congress is inhe 
 rent in one State, then is it inherent in all. Now, if 
 each and every State can control a supreme law of the 
 land, then is the General Government the creature, not 
 of all the States collectively, but of each State indivi 
 dually: so that each may determine for itself whether 
 it transcends its powers, or not. The twenty-four 
 States each construe the law a different way and yet 
 it must obey twenty-four masters! Can there be a great 
 er absurdity in Government? Or is that any Govern 
 ment at all, which is subject to control from all quarters 
 tnd bound to fcuccumb to all? If this U not the old 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 Confederation, when each State did as it pleased, and 
 disregarded Congress, we are at a loss to know in what 
 analogy consists. 
 
 Hut we go even beyond the old Con federation, for 
 even then, one State had not the authority it claims 
 note; a State not only renders null and void a supreme 
 law of the land within its own jurisdiction, hut also 
 throughout the Union: for this ohviotis reason, that 
 the goods, which evade the duty hy landing in Charles 
 ton, will be disseminated throughout the land. This, 
 is {He unavoidable result. Even in Great Britain, so 
 cursed with tax-collectors, excisers and gangers, it can 
 not he prevented. And, thus, we say, we have not 
 even the old discarded Confederation \ve have no Go 
 vernment at all. Now, if this portion be sound and 
 we speak not unadvisedly when we call for an answer to 
 it, ---in the one instance, thcargumcnt holds, a fortiori, 
 in the other, if the assumption, in the former, is an 
 aiuunaly---in the latter, it is the anomaly of anomalies. 
 
 We cannot forbear noticing, in conclusion, the "fn- 
 imis fulgoitittt:* of party excitement) that has pervaded 
 our Suite., during the discussion of the "Carolina Doc 
 trine." There Ls no device in politics we more 
 hcftilily detest, than an ?ad captandtim" subterfuge 
 an "argumentum ad homines * to the heated passions of 
 men, lathtr than to their unbiassed judgment. That 
 these have been resorted to by our opponents we fear 
 lessly assert and will as promptly make good if called 
 upon. Constraint and abuse are the natural parents of 
 resistance, and we ha\e ever found it a pregnant proof 
 that reason is uot on the side of those who use it. 
 Lncian s tatiricul fable is doubtless familiar to all: 
 Jupiter and a countryman were walking together, con 
 versing with great freedom and familiarity concerning 
 Heaven and Earth. The countryman listened with 
 attention and acquiescence, while Jupiter strove onl> 
 to convince him: but happening to hint a doubt, Jupi 
 n-r turned round and threatened him with his thunder. 
 
KKMAINS POLITICAL. M 
 
 *Now, ?> (said the countryman,) "Jupiter, I know you 
 are wrong. Jupiter is always \srong, when he appeals 
 to his thunder! 5 This is the course, that has been 
 adopted by our opponents. Foiled in argument bat- 
 fled in their attempts to convince caught in their 
 own toils implicated in inconsistencies entangled in 
 the net of sophistry they have been weaving for others 
 they resort to the summary method of abuse. They 
 denominate their adversaries, who are engaged in the 
 same holy cause of State Sovereignty and its prosperi 
 ty, "cowards" submissionists," and "torics." This 
 is the sum total of their reasoning. We despise their 
 taunts too much to retort them; but we call fearlessly 
 for "deeds not words as proof and denounce them if 
 they fail, insane slanderers. We will not have our 
 positions answered by a sneer or a sarcasm. We will 
 not permit sophistry to pass for soundness declamation 
 for argument or assertion for proof: and least of all 
 shall we permit railing and bandying epithets to pas* 
 curreut for sterling, legitimate discussion. You may 
 for a while, fetter the understandings of men you 
 may cloud them with sophistry and envelope them in 
 mist but truth almighty truth must eventually pre 
 vail. There is so intimate a connection between lib 
 erty and licentiousness, that it is extremely difficult to 
 distinguish the true limit between them. It is the 
 curse of freedom, that in order to be preserved untaint 
 ed, it must be continually endangered. Tnic liberty 
 is not to be exempt from all restraint to go where 
 passion leads or caprice directs. It consists in doing 
 not what is most agreeable, but what is most fit to be 
 done: in doing every thing which docs not injure 
 society, more than it benefits the individual. It con 
 sists in being guided by \yhatCicero calls the perfection 
 of nature the "recta ra/iV in combatting error, 
 prejudice and education with the touchstone of reason 
 and pressing on to that "altitudo ani mi," which con 
 stitutes the true dignity, character and happiness of 
 
54 RiiAiAtNb POLITICAL. 
 
 intellectual man. We must be as cautious in preserv 
 ing the bounds and limits of right and wrong, how ever 
 trifling the deviation as is the Hollander in arresting 
 the first gentle influx of the stream, which ("vires ac- 
 ynirif eundo") would gradually undcrtnine and sweep 
 away every barrier* which his caution has provided 
 against the encroachments of the boundless ocean. One 
 fatal precedent admitted would be to the existence of* 
 moral, legal and political truth, what the single drop of 
 Prussic Acid is to physical vitality; ^t would endan 
 ger, if not destroy the whole fabric. 
 
 It is in government as in the human system; disea 
 ses, (the Tariff, Internal Improvement, &e. in politics) 
 that have long inhered to the body dislocations of 
 lon standing distempers rooted in the system can 
 be eradicated only by time, caution and perseverance. 
 To apply a desperate remedy is to hazard the life of 
 the patient. 
 
 Thomas Paine, the greatest stickler ancient or 
 modern for Republicanism, equality a:id public good: 
 and the most inveterate foe to tyranny, has, in that 
 compound of truth and falsehood morality and infi 
 delity the "Age of Reason,* admitted "if a law be 
 bad, it is out thing fo oppose the practice of it* but it 
 is quite a different thing to expose its errors, to reason 
 6n its defects, and to shew cause, why it should be 
 repealed, or why another ought to be substituted in it* 
 place. I have always held it an opinion, making it 
 also my practice,, that it in better to obey a bad lair, 
 making use* at the same time, of evert/ argument to 
 shew its errors ami procure its repeal, than to violate 
 it; because the precedent of breaking a bad law* might 
 weaken the force and lead to a discretionary violation 
 of those which are good** 
 
I:F.MAIX> 
 
 THE TARIFF PRINCIPLE. * 
 
 The theory of political economy, which the world 
 carce a century ago supported, ha*, since that time, 
 undergone an important alteration. Antecedent to 
 the preceding age, the great souivc of national wealth 
 was differently, and. as it was generally allowed, incor 
 rectly understood. The old writers "held Commerce 
 and Manufactures to be the bulwark of national prosperi 
 ty? the latter contend that Agriculture is the only 
 sure and permanent element of riches. The former 
 build up their fostered favorite by premiums, restric 
 tions and duties; the latter leave "to individual perse 
 verance and sagacity the roa l to Wealth, unimpeded 
 by the shackles of prohibition. The former decide 
 the legislative body to be the most capable of direct 
 ing private capital: the latter take it for granted, that 
 every man is best acquainted with his own interests. As 
 the more intelligent portion of mankind arc no\v pretty 
 generally agreed upon as to what is the proper sonro? of 
 wealth, we shall not dwell upon arguments already 
 familiar; but merely, before we pass to the more imme 
 diate object of discussion, observe, that we do not 
 assign to Commerce the preference over wealth, since 
 its operations only tend to transport and more widely 
 dispense the products of the soil? nor to Manufactures 
 as they only employ the territorial produce, and diver 
 sify and improve its condition, without increasing it* 
 quantity. But to Agriculture would we decree this 
 prerogative, for the principle reason that it supplies 
 the material of all our wants and all our enjoyments, 
 and bestows a sort of gratuitous re -product ion, the sur 
 plus of which, appears to constitute the only real in 
 crease of wealth. We shall not attempt to affix the 
 
 Thk article, written in the fifteenth year of our Author, WM delivered he 
 re the "Ptuiomalhean Society," of the College 
 ippoiaUneot, a* one of its owtl ereaiof exercises. 
 
 lore the "PUomAlhean Society/ of the College of Charleston, probably by 
 of its uaaal erenini exerciser. 
 
50 *;*MAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 serrate degree of utility to these three brandies of 
 labour; nor do we believe it necessary to our purpose, 
 that we should do so. They mutually depend upon 
 each other, and the severing of one link, would lead to 
 the inevitable failure of the others. Having thus pre 
 mised, we will consider the question in two points of 
 view. 
 
 Its policy or tendency to increase the prosperity and 
 glory of the union; and its constitutionality or concord 
 ance with the spirit of our national bond or compact. 
 
 Our first division we will further subdivide into the 
 following beads: 
 
 1st. That it imposes a tax upon the many for the 
 benefit of the few. 
 
 lid. That it is prejudicial to the interests of the 
 agriculturalist. 
 
 M. That it abridges commerce, and consequently 
 impairs revenue. 
 
 4th. That it is directly opposed to the much vaunt 
 ed principle, protection, in case of war. 
 
 Upon a glance at the bill of increased duties, it will 
 be seen, that while a most exorbitant tax is laid upon 
 inferior cloths, the liner pay no additional impost. We 
 would prefer, in the course of our discussion, to avoid 
 the slightest sectional partiality, and confine our re 
 marks to the universal tendency of the law. But who 
 can for a moment, fail in observing the incredible injus 
 tice of this clause! While the rich inhabitant escapes 
 altogether this exorbitant increase, the poorer classes, 
 and c*pecially the Southern States, which can never 
 be exempted from buying for their slaves, are marked 
 out to sustain this illegal taxation. The limited benefit, 
 even in the manufacturing section cannot escape the 
 slightest investigation. It is true they have contrived 
 to enlist under their banner the farmer and wool-grow 
 er: but we will readily shew, under the most delusive 
 promises. To the former they ensure an increased 
 Consumption as if, in that case, they would do any 
 
KK.MA1NS IMiMTIt AL. .7 
 
 thing extraordinary. Do the manufacturers consume 
 more in proportion. th:in other classes of Americans? 
 Or would their indefinite increase benefit more than 
 the increase of any other body? If so. they would, they 
 must he. giant I atagoniam: not as \ve supposed, mea 
 gre spectres, worn down hy the confinement of pesti 
 lential work shops: and their KH).(XX) would increase 
 by a tenfold ratio. They also promise to the wool- 
 grower, a wonderful recompense for his share of the 
 burthen. And what is it? To lay an inter lict upon 
 foreign wool -going directly in the face of fact:*., which 
 prove that the a Ivantagc from such a duty is allogc- 
 thcr visionary. The quantity of \\ool consumed in the 
 most flourishing state of the manufactures was about 4 1 ^,- 
 (K/U.OJO Ihs. Of this 4().(KX).(XX) was American, a.i-l 
 the remainder (which, alone, of course the duty affects) 
 is either of the finest sort, from Spain or Italy, or the 
 coarsest from South America: which docs not. in the 
 least, compete with the native gro.vth. Whcni then 
 is this bill intended to protect? If our allegations !e 
 cone:*t, it is for the lolc purpose of aggrandizing a few 
 insatiable proprietors, rnd those imr.Kdiatcly employed 
 by them! In 1790, when ihL* duty was only ,"> per 
 cent, (and that imposed not for protection, but entirely 
 for reven ie,) more than three-fmrthsof the woollenscon- 
 Mimed in A neriea, were -nanufactured with profit. No 
 duty was demanded no^ie re(|uired. Before the pas 
 sage of this bill, with .v^ they declare they cannot 
 continue the business, unl- *s an impost, amounting to 
 Titter prc f .iibition. is imposed upon the nation, for their 
 advancement. Have the merchants ever demanded 
 the exclusion of foreign ships, or the planters of forcie^i 
 productions? Have they ever cried to Government to 
 pro]) np their tottering affairs, from the pockets of their 
 fellow citizens? The manufacturers affirmed thry h d 
 increased their cnpital from SIO.OOO.OOO to SiO.vXX),- 
 000. We cannot boast of much information on the 
 Subject bnt we would ask, docs this look like failure? 
 
 8 
 
58 KEftfAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 Can theirs be a losing business, when it is notorious; 
 that under the Tariff of 1816 they realized from 1O to 
 25 per cent? But if they were on the verge of ruin, 
 does it follow, that Congress is bound to support them? 
 Must the interests of 100,000 men and 40,000,000 
 outweigh the interests of the Union? Or, supj>osing 
 that New-England would be universally enriched, 
 (which is a hope never to be realized,) must this hand 
 ful of men and money, (which could be easily other 
 wise employed) crush the Southern StaU-s, which, by 
 the preceding Tariff, had been reduced to incredible 
 dif.iculty. 
 
 Thus, if our positions be correct. v:o have clearly 
 established, that this bill, while it imposts upon the 
 Union a merciless tribute, is calculated to exalt a few 
 capitalists alone, and, placing them upon the ruins of 
 their count rymen, to constitute them t-ie aristocracy of 
 Anici ica! 
 
 We have dwelt so long upon our first division, that 
 we shall necessarily retrench our subsequent remarks, 
 and consider the three remaining points in connection. 
 We have already adverted to the enormous tax it im 
 poses upon the t liion, and especially the Southern 
 planter; and is it not too evident, that it deprives him 
 of the only means of paying that tax? The quantity 
 of cotton consumed in the world is about 1 ,000,000 bales; 
 of this we produce 900,000. Now, what market do they 
 leave us for this almost our only support? They tell 
 us they will shortly take all our cotton! This is an in 
 sult to us as reasonable beings. To tell us that the 
 Northern manufactures, which at present consume (at 
 the outside) 150,000 bales, will shortly consume 900,- 
 000, is telling us, what we know to be impossible, and 
 what we cannot believe. But they again desert this 
 absurdity, to, -(unfortunately for us) if possible, plunge 
 into a greater. Great Britain, (say thcv) "will pur 
 chase where she can cheapest; and it would be ridicu 
 lous for her to do otherwise!" This, (we would ob 
 
KT.MAINS POLITICAL. .~>9 
 
 -ITVC) is on? of the dilemmas of a bad cause. For, is it 
 not inconsistent to approve of purchasing cheap, and 
 still declaim against our doing it? But let us examine 
 the result which it involves: for we perfectly agree 
 with the principle. 
 
 Now, will it be cheaper for Great Britain to buy 
 iierc. where she sells nothing, or at South America, 
 Kgypt, and the East Indies, where they are willing to 
 take British articles in exchange for every article which 
 she would take from us, without that reciprocity? No 
 and we could -multiply facts to prove the miserable falla 
 cy of this belief: did we not conceive we could afford 
 you no information. They likewise tell us, they 
 give us r,n equivalent! And what (we would ask) is 
 the wretched price they pay us to lie tranquil under a 
 weight to which we are opposed, not less upon princi 
 ple than policy? It is a duty upon cotton, smifl . tobac 
 co and sugar. Now, this would he eminently praise 
 worthy. \\err it not irresistibly ridiculous! To give 
 us a duty upon our great staple! To ensure to us, that 
 no foreign cotton shall enter our ports! They might 
 as well impose a tax upon rice from (ireot Britain, as to 
 prohibit what no one ever dreamt of bringing, and 
 with which we supply throe-fourths of the world. As 
 for the duty on snulF. the benefit, (were it here worth 
 mentioning) is altogether possessed by the North. It 
 will be seen, that the duly upon sugar, was, by the Ta 
 riff of 1816 at 2\ per Ib. and that I cent is the won 
 derful equivalent, (for the mock duties on the other ar 
 ticles is really laughable,) which they bestow in return 
 for a tax of millions! 
 
 There is another assertion which has been repeated 
 with additions in pamphlets, speeches and essays, which 
 (for the most part) form a mere tissue of misrepresen 
 tation and error. We allude to that, which, appealing 
 to our national prejudices and feelings, tells us that 
 England "supplies us with every thins and will take 
 none of our productions: and that we should make our- 
 
6O UEMAIKS POLITICAL. 
 
 selves independent in case of a war!" Tbe two first as 
 sertions are so shamelessly groundless, that we shall pass 
 them over in silence. That we should he prepared for 
 war weave not at ull disposed to deny; hut we unequi 
 vocally assert, that they incapacitate us in that respect, 
 hy depriving us of commerce and consequently of active 
 seamen. They declaim to us of indepen:!e ce, and 
 under the imposing title oi* the American System," 
 attempt to win us to .submission to their designs: cloak 
 ed under the specious pretext of opposing "British 
 cupidity!" But, if they mean hy independence, a se- 
 panuion from the \\orld if to he independent is to he 
 insulated and alone cut olF from civil intercourse, 
 and disdaining reciprocal services, let them preach 
 their doctrine to the wild Indian, beyond the Hocky 
 Mountains to the Savage, on the sea-shore the Ne 
 gro of die Gold-Coast hut not to the enlightened Ame 
 rican. 
 
 We have merely set down our arguments as they oc 
 curred to us, without arranging them in any particu 
 lar order. We believe the truth of the views we 
 have advanced, and have no doubt of the correctness 
 of our several positions. We now come to our second 
 division the constitutionality of the bill, and here 
 we shall he unusually sueclict. We do not believe 
 this hill to b in conformity with the spirit of the Con 
 stitution, when it authorizes Congress "to lay and col 
 lect duties," and to regulate commerce/ Can this 
 bill be for the promotion of commerce, when it paraly 
 zes its efforts, ami letters and tramples UJKW those who 
 pursue it? Can it be for revenue when it excludes the 
 only inlet of revenue? Can any one be so blinded as not 
 to see, that its results are diametrically opposite to those 
 which it professes? Can the advocates of this system 
 deny, that the right of taxing imposts was for one spe 
 cific end, and that end revenue? They do not deny it. 
 But aware that their object, if openly* avowed, would 
 elicit merited indignation, they shield it under the co- 
 
IU;MAINS POLITICAL. 61 
 
 ver of the law, under a technicality of phrase, which, 
 while it religiously adheres in mere form to the letter, 
 is grossly violative of the very spirit of our Constitution 
 
 THE RIGHT TO FIGHT/ 
 
 This phrase, uttered by a mo;l< rn politician with 
 
 some considerable gt^t-t and gratification, at a public 
 
 hurbttntc* where such pleasant abstractions are most 
 
 usually accompanied with a practical illustration of 
 
 their points and premises, appears, by one class of our 
 
 contemporaries, to have been deemed quite as oracu 
 
 lar, and certainly, to the full as mystical, as those deli 
 
 vered by the Delphic Goddess. The phrase is nice 
 
 and narrow, and bus all the sweetness of the apothegm: 
 
 unhappily, the import \\hich it bears is not so very ob 
 
 vious. The whole class of disputes concerning tlir 
 
 "right to light" the right of conquest"- --the te 
 
 nure of power" rt if/ griw.v omitr, is one upon which 
 
 moralists and speculative men have. wasted much time 
 
 and toil---* /// hngHin trahvntcs rw/i//*0WA i if/.v v ---ancl 
 
 there is none of the class, upon which they have spe 
 
 culated more extensively and to more uncertain is 
 
 sue, than upon that at present before UN. And if we 
 
 err not cgrcgioush , the cause of the protracted discus- 
 
 >ion is stamped upon the face of it. It is obscurely 
 
 stated, and the question is indistinctly put. and what 
 
 might be briefly and finally settled, has, by this original 
 
 obscurity, occasioned unbounded perplexity, and mix 
 
 ed with much learned and metaphysical research, has 
 
 given rise to a rigmarole of unintelligible jargon, which 
 
 bafillcs every brain, save that of the writer. The far 
 
 ther we advance in the field of disputation, the greater 
 
 opportunity will we have of observing, that half the dis 
 
 putes of men arc occasioned by their attention to words 
 
 rather than to Jth ings- --that they argue without roe- 
 
t>2 REMAIN* POLITICAL. 
 
 thod without a definite and unerring end and aim 
 and without agreeing in their use and appropriation of 
 terms and technicals. This is the chief we may say, 
 the only difficulty in the present instance. The term 
 right* appeai-s to be the source of the ambiguity, and 
 its solution the nine (jna non of our discussion. 
 
 The legal student considers the phrase in a profes- 
 Monal sense, and labors in vain to settle its practical 
 import with al! the ponderous Utters of the law. The 
 divine recur.-* to the primitive fathers, and consults the 
 authority of the "divine doctors. ?? The politician, 
 armed with (Irotius, Puflendorf, and the host of civil 
 ians, toils in difficulties of his own making, and with all 
 the paraphernalia of speculative lore, buries in mystery 
 u cpiestion that ran be in.rlo as evident as the mid-day 
 sun. "Ifa perplexed rcasont-r, (says Druiuiiioud) puz 
 zle himself an-1 his audience, he never fail, to attribute 
 it to the abstruse nature of all speculative subjects." 
 If a pert rhetorician gets entangled in the maze of his 
 own conceits, he is ever ready to accuse himself of ha 
 ving too much of the very logic which he wants. The 
 impartial examiner m*ws to bis own reflection* enlar* 
 gcs bis view, and, though he laay not come to a deci 
 sive solution, at least deal s the way of obstructions, 
 with which it was previously clogged by misconception 
 and prejudice. 
 
 Right/ (used as a term connected with society) must 
 undoubtedly be derived from some compact expressed 
 or implied; and there is no diOiculty in conceiving an 
 agreement between the CONQITF.RKI) an I the roNdur.K- 
 OR the former of submission, the Inttev of com 
 mand after the completion of thv watf/itcst. But \ve 
 know of no law of society we arc acquainted with no 
 "principle of civilians we recollect no sanction, human 
 or diviuc which authorizes the commencement of sub 
 jugation, or permits us, (if we may use the term) to 
 -half-subdue" a nation; which would be necessary be 
 fore we acquired the "right to rule" or that which gives 
 
HKMAINS POLITICAL. (U 
 
 the right, viz: entire dominion. At this stage, man>* 
 have left the question; but this solution is much too 
 Mimmary to he correct. Though speculative moralists 
 deny a right, and though, hy their rules, we cannot 
 fchew one; yet when we contemplate the conqueror, 
 our humane ideas are not shocked our love of ju>lice 
 is not invaded the world does not perceive his want 
 of right. But, on the contrary, his path i* strewn with 
 flowers his brows arc encircled with laurel his inarch 
 i> attended with the acclamations of admiring crowds, 
 and the homage of the wise and the applause of posterity 
 arc the rewards of his daring. Here UKASON and 
 IT.KLIM; arc manifestly at \ariancc the one attests 
 his merit the other his guilt. One, consequently, 
 must be in error. If we were the arbiters between 
 ihcse opponents, the election would be quickly made in 
 favor of the latter, as original and always the same: 
 against the former, which is frequently obscured by 
 sophistry, clouded by artifice, and shackled by the de 
 mon, either of gain, or (so called) glory! 
 
 Whence arises the immeasurable difference between 
 the morality of the heathen poets and philosophers? 
 The former we find pure and undefiled by sophis 
 try the latter tainted with prejudice infected with 
 love of gain deserting the imperishable 60 halon. for 
 the miserable, transient policy of the to fjrcfjoti. The 
 cause is obvious? In poetry, the offspring of feel 
 ing virtue without dross flows warm and undefiled 
 from the fountain of the heart. In philosophy, men 
 strive "non sibi res, sed srsc rebus aptare." It is it5 
 futile boast to dive into the boundless arcana of nature, 
 and in its dubious search it adopts opinion upon mere 
 speculation, without reference to facts. Frail rea 
 son, then, so obnoxious to error so seldom the test of 
 truth "a bubble s gleam amid the boundless main/ is 
 not the criterion we adopt. We refer to ourselves 
 nunqucunalind natura* aliudsapientia dixit," and 
 where we find opinion almost universal in her favor, we 
 
M REMAIN* POLITICAL. 
 
 hesitate not to admit her decree. If it ta true, (and 
 who doubts it?) tliat social beings are by the will of 
 Heaven, organized into societies that governments 
 are established for their support that laws by general 
 compact arc necessary that for the better dispense-, 
 tiori of order and justice, the people vest their rights 
 in some individual or individuals conquest secures 
 this slate of things, and thus produces in a degree the 
 benefits of government. Moralists have told us with 
 some plausibility, that the man who invades our pro 
 perty at the head of :>O,(XX) men, as richly deserves the 
 halter as lie who comes singly, * 4 thc highway rob 
 ber" that the conqueror is but a "robber in disguise/* 
 and on a Urge scale and many, though they deny the 
 consequence, unable to confute the reasoning, have in 
 advertently admitted the premises. But that there 
 exists an essential difference cannot escape the most su 
 perficial observation. The robber is considered as a 
 member of the community which he depredates, and, 
 Consequently, infringes laws, which are binding upon 
 all. But ordinances made for the welfare of one nation 
 are no criteria to another* as they are reciprocally in 
 dependent, and no rule can be adopted, save the law 
 of nature. Again, the robber seeks to deprive a com 
 munity of its property the invader has no such de 
 sign. The estate of the subject has never, by conquest 
 been considered the monarch s. But his aim is tr de 
 prive those who rule, of authority, and to substitute 
 himself in their place, in case he can exhibit nn<]< -tria 
 ble authority, viz s^fjerior strength, which is un 
 doubtedly after all, the UIUHT OF cox QUEST" in 
 question. 
 
 "To this complexion it must come at last." 
 
 To conclude our subject, let no one claim a "RU;IIT 
 TO Fir.iiT," unless he can shew a "RIC;HT TO CONQUER/ 
 to advance which latter claim, he must exhibit a 
 RIGHT TO BE STROM;; * and the Emperor of Morocco 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. 65 
 
 has wisely and piously embodied the true, natural, and 
 philosophical solution, in his brief rejoinder to the 
 King of Spain s manifesto. As to the towns upon the 
 coast of Africa (says he) which the King of Spain says 
 are his, it becomes his majesty to know, that they be 
 long neither to him, nor to me, but to Almighty God, 
 who will bestow the command of them upon him, u7io 
 shall be found, upon trial, best able to maintain it. 
 
 PARTY SPIRIT. 
 
 There can subsist in no enlightened community a 
 state of society devoid of that dissection that diver- 
 sity of opinion concerning means and ends, denominated 
 party spirit. Nor should we have it otherwise. We 
 are not one of those who look with a *holy horror upon 
 those temporary bursts of popular violence, which 
 spring from its excess; and if we did, reasoning from 
 abuses is decidedly the least philosophical and satis 
 factory that can be adopted. Otherwise, would we 
 renounce all government and subordination, because, 
 after every precaution, villany still stalks abroad: all 
 medicine, because disease sometimes bafiles its efforts; 
 and every human enjoyment, because alloyed with 
 pain! It is an evil but a necessary one, and its disad 
 vantages are to be endured in consideration of its 
 benefits. Deprived of it, the universe would bend to 
 the dictates of an autocrat, moral, political, and litera 
 ry: whirlpools of false doctrine would arise, all the 
 nobler energies of the mind, whose exercise exalts man 
 above the brute, would be dormant, and the true re 
 sources of his nature remain always undeveloped. But 
 it is chiefly in a political light, that the spirit which 
 splits mankind into sects exerts its most beneficial influ 
 ence. It is this which has shown to every unenlight 
 ened people the list of their sufferings the record of. 
 
 9 
 
 
6f> ^CHAINS POLITICAL 
 
 their rights which tears askle the cloak of usurpation 
 which drags the oppressor before the public scrutiny 
 which devetopes the power of public opinion, and 
 points to redress in all its controlling influences. It is 
 emphatically the bulwark of the people s rights the 
 great lever by which they direct their public servants, 
 and assert their right of supervision. It is party spirit, 
 which makes us vigilant to scrutinize the actions of 
 public men, and be ever on the alert to punish infi 
 delity which ^puriffes the atmosphere of politics" 
 and dispels the clouds of ministerial artifice and cor 
 ruption, until the Constitution, Hke a mighty rock, 
 stands full disclosed to the view of all who dwell within 
 the shade of its protection. Party spirit is the salu 
 brious gale which ventilates the opinfons of the people; 
 which awakes the apprehension and arouses all the 
 faculties of the pilot at the helm, keeps hrni ever alert 
 on duty for fear of public exposure, and keeps the ves 
 sel of Suite safely in her course. When a people i* 
 free and its rulers honest when all parties contend 
 only through the pure motives of patriotism, unmixed 
 with the dross of personal aggrandizement there i 
 the Spirit of party entirely distinct from the spirit of 
 faction there it is, the "jealousy of patriotism/ nol 
 the rancor of hatred; the warmth of enthusiasm, not 
 the virulence of envy; the ray wliich purifies th e 
 atmosphere of politics, not the poisonous exhafation 
 which corrupts it: the link which binds as together 
 in emergencies, when the ptablic safety is at stake, not 
 the sword which severs our counsels and distract* our 
 efforts. 
 
 There can be little question of these truths; and 
 that cause is essentially a bad one, which fears to meet 
 its opponents in fair debate; those doctrines are cor 
 rupt which cannot bear public scrutiny, and that party 
 is a dangerous one, which endeavors to hood-wink the 
 people and keep them in ignorance, and which thrives 
 best in darkness and mystery. Is there no such party 
 
NKMAIXS - POLITICAL. fl7 
 
 umong us? Is there no such perils at hand for our 
 people, and for our country? Are there none blinded 
 ly sophistry, and prejudice and perversion? Let the 
 people look to it, and tat tliem answer to, and for, 
 themselves. Let them ay if there is no power pro 
 pelling, while professing to employ their own no 
 guide in the garb of a follower no sovereign in the 
 Mihtle counsellor. Let them take iheir affairs into 
 iheirowiHiands, while they have yet the power, and 
 heforc U is too late. They stand upon the verge of a 
 precipice, and upen their next step hangs the destiny 
 of the State the security of property the inviola 
 bility of persons the integrity of the Union all that 
 they hold dear to themselves or their children. The 
 momentous question is about to be decided shall we 
 advance onward in our glorious career, or bid "a long 
 farewell to all our greatness!" 
 
 THE UNION CONVENTION. 
 
 At a moment of terrible popular excitement, when 
 *very day brought forth new materials for the confla 
 gration, and the time was full of fearful auguries, a 
 body of men, representing a fair moiety of the virtue, 
 the wealth, and the talent of the State, met at Colum 
 bia, with the view to her safety to save her if possi 
 ble, from her own soas; who, in the blindness of their 
 desperation, would pull down the sacred edifice of th if 
 and her liberty upon their own heads to rescue her, 
 if still within their scope, from discomfiture and dis 
 grace; and to rid her, peaceably and honorably, from 
 an evil, for the cure of which her most clamorously 
 professing friends, do, indeed, prescribe a remedy; 
 but one, in our opinion, infinitely worse than the ori 
 ginal distemper. An incubus was pressing upon her 
 *>osom, retarding her growth, and impairing her fruit- 
 
68 ftKMAlXS POLITICAL. 
 
 fulness; and with an operation, in one sense perfectly 
 Caesarian, avowedly for its cure, they would thrust her 
 over the precipice on which she slumbers, to break the 
 dream which renders painful her repose. "Inveniam 
 viam autfaciuw" is their watch-word, with the despe 
 rate Roman who enslaved his country. 
 
 To check this spreading flame, and make our final 
 elfort to arrest the strange infatuation which is hurry 
 ing us on to our own destruction, without in the 
 slightest degree removing the evil cf which we com 
 plain; the friends of Union, of peace, of goocl order, of 
 sober, rational, regulated liberty, assembled at Colum 
 bia to reason with their brethren to hold forth the 
 Olive Branch of reconciliation and brotherly love, to 
 devise a common remedy for a common grievance, and 
 to induce that union of sentiment and action which 
 should spring from an union of interest. To effect this 
 holy end, the tone of mind with which they convened 
 was peculiarly calculated. They met, "more in sor 
 row than in anger," to mourn over the distracted con 
 dition of the country, and provide the cure to regret 
 the divisions of their fellow citizens, and apply the 
 balm to condemn the evils we endure, and strike out 
 the remedy. -With such patriotic and disinterested 
 views did the late Convention assemble their acts are 
 before the world, and by them they are willing to be 
 judged. T-iey have tendered to their brethren the 
 hand of reconciliation, of union, of friendly co-opera 
 tion in the same struggle, and with them it rests to 
 accept it, and restore peace and harmony to our dis 
 tracted State; or to reject it, and run the hazard of our 
 country s being rent still further by civil feuds, or 
 drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! Heaven 
 grant the one, and avert the other! But let our 
 opponents, once for all, understand us. We have 
 borne and forborne long, and still do so, with the fond 
 hope, that good sense and good feeling may finally 
 revisit our narrated community that the contest 
 
REMAINS - POLITICAL. 6H 
 
 between father and son may at last have an end that 
 our feelings and our rights would be respected, and 
 our reiterated offers of the right hand of fellowship at 
 length meet with a return. NVe make this final appeal 
 to their liberality and , hoping for the best, are yet 
 prepared for the worst. We value this Unionpur 
 chased by the blood and sealed by the martyrdom of 
 our sires at a higher price than our heart s best tides, 
 and it never shall be forcibly wrested from us by any 
 people whomsoever; who, while they call themselves our 
 brethren, prove by their actions to he our most bitter 
 fees! 
 
 POSITION OF THE UNION PARTY. 
 
 We perceive that one of the mountain, and manly 
 
 districts of our State, anticipating the progress of the 
 
 now dominant party, has resolved, at n recent and very 
 
 large meeting of its voters, not to recognise the act of 
 
 Nullification, if ventured upon by the State Legisla 
 
 ture. If we know any thing of the views and ulterior 
 
 resolves of the party we represent, there is but one 
 
 voice upon this point: and as the opposition aflect not 
 
 to be aware of it, they had better, once for all. under 
 
 stand our attitude, and respect it, before it be too late. 
 
 They may perhaps discover, when the era of good feel 
 
 ing, of which they hypocritically prate, has passed a- 
 
 way, and a stern assertion of our rights has wrested from 
 
 them that forbearance, which neither good feeling nor 
 
 decency can elicit, that we do not only talk of the va 
 
 lue of the Union, but are prepared to prove our devo 
 
 tion to it by deeds, as wdl as words , and that, clinging 
 
 to it as dearer to us than our lives, we will peril every 
 
 thing, rather than see the fair inheritance we have che 
 
 rished as our richest legacy to our children, wrested 
 
 from us by any fartion* though they may assume the 
 
70 UEMA1XS POLITICAL. 
 
 ^r 
 
 law and the Constitution as a cloak, and though the? 
 may be eternally professing themselves our friend** 
 while they prove themselves our most inveterate foes. 
 
 But another question arisen in case of Nullification 
 hy a Convention though we think such an event very 
 remote upon which the Union Party should under 
 stand itself, and he fully and explicitly understood by 
 its opponents. In such an event, 4f we take the doc 
 trine at the hands of its advocates, (and we suppose, 
 they who prescribe should understand their own medi 
 cine,) no question of allegiance arises, as the State is 
 only exercising a reserved right* or one which is deri 
 ved from the nature of the compact. If this he the 
 case, the allegiance of the citizen to Federal authority 
 remains unimpaired* and when issue is made up lie must 
 he guided a> to tlieside lie esjxjuses, hy /m conception 
 of Federal and State prerogative. If the State docs 
 not and the Nulliliers admit release him who/ly, 
 for no authority is competent to do it in part from 
 the allegiance he confessedly owes to the General Go 
 vernment, does she not com/tel him, should she invoke 
 his assistance, to commit perjury, or to defend his 
 whole country , against a part, however dear the latter 
 may be to him? Is this either kind, honorable or pru 
 dent in those, who are urging this dreadful doctrine 
 which has already inflicted a deeper wound upon our 
 community, its feelings, its interests, and its honor, 
 than all the evils past, present or prospective, of the 
 American System and its comcomitants? Or will free 
 men, whose feelings as Carolinians, as patriots, as men, 
 have been so repeatedly and so wantonly betrayed, feel 
 themselves boimd, when no allegiance prompts their 
 unhesitating obedience, to join in undermining the fail- 
 fabric, reared by the efforts, and cemented by the blood 
 of their fathers, merely to gratify the restlessness, tjic 
 mortified feelings, the disappointed hopes, and the 
 ha filed ambition of men, who have violated every tie 
 of sympathy, every bond of brotherhood, every lien 
 upon their respect? 
 
HLMAINS POLITICAL. 71 
 
 LETTERS FROM WASHINGTON. 
 
 [The following Letters were written by Mr. Richardson, 
 when on a visit ;vt Washington, and in close attendance upon 
 the Congress, at the termination of the session, in June, 1832 
 They appeared originally as editorial in the journal which h* 
 conducted; and their contents have been long since, matters 
 of history. But, as conveying something ot the stylo and 
 spirit of the writer s powers of conversation, not less thai* 
 of composition; and as exhibit ing the iirprcsnions of a young 
 mind, for the first time employed in the contemplation of 
 those high intellects, which light and adorft our country with 
 no moderate lustre, we hare ventured here on their republi- 
 cation. ED.] 
 
 \V,ISHINC;TOV. Jtme 2. 
 
 Strolling info the Senate to-day the House bcini; 
 occupied with private bill*, we found Mr. Dickcrson 
 hard at Rail Road iron , against the reduction upon 
 which, he was pleading very earnestly, very clumsi 
 ly, and very uninterestingly. In the course of his 
 remarks, he quoted, as a ground of rejection to the 
 amendment, an extract from Mr. Miller** TarifT 
 <pcceh, in which it is asserted, that the contractors 
 for the iron intended for the Charleston Rail Road 
 would have realized one hundred thousand dollars in 
 the diminished cost of the material, being duty ffcefj 
 by disposing of it for other purposes, had the contem 
 plated road never been earned into operation. From 
 this he drew an argument against the reduction, as in 
 ducing speculation, and seemed to convey the charge, 
 to the Charleston contractors. Mr. Miller explained 
 his assertion as a mere illustration of the onerous and 
 exorbitant character of the tax. and admitted the esti 
 mate to be extravagant, Mr. Hayne concurred with 
 his colleague in correcting the error, which appeared 
 to be one throughout; as Rail Road iron is comparative 
 ly valueless for any other purpose, and especially stood 
 
7% REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 forth to vindicate the originators of the Charleston Rail 
 Road fit)m the suspicion of any intention, or desire to 
 speculate upon the permission to import their iron duty 
 free. An incidental debate followed, in which Messrs. 
 Smith, of Md. Dallas and Dickerson participated, when 
 the hour having expired, the regular order of the day 
 the Bank question was taken up. Mr . Bentou s seve 
 ral amendments to makceadt stockholder responsible to 
 the amount of his stock to compel specie payments at 
 the several offices of Discount, (Branches) to debar 
 members of Congress and Federal Officers from holding 
 stock, &c. were taken up, and voted down, without de 
 bate, by large majorities. Mr. Bent on supported his 
 amendments with great zeal and ability, but the majo 
 rity, confident of their numerical strength, did not 
 think it necessary to respond to his arguments. Mr. 
 Ta/ewell ollered an amendment to the term of the 
 charter, substituting ten, for fifteen years, which he 
 supported with the usual arguments, the danger of with 
 drawing Congressional control, &c. which was opposed 
 by the Chairman, Mr. Dallas, on the ground that the 
 frequent agitation of so exciting a question, would fur 
 nish a temptation to the Bank to use its influence, in 
 the intervals of its term of charter, in controlling the 
 legislation of the country, and that it was advisable to 
 withdraw that inducement, by lengthening its term of 
 incorporation. To this Mr. Ta/ewell responded with 
 considerable warmth, inveighing against the confession, 
 that the Bank might, and could, exert political sway, 
 and be made an engine to create popular excitement, 
 and control the elections of the people. Mr. Dallas ex 
 plained, that he only meant, the Bank might be indu 
 ced to exert any influence it possessed, not that he be 
 lieved it had ever done so, and that he only wished to 
 remove all temptation. Mr. Hayne followed up Mr. 
 TazcwelPs argument against the political influence of 
 the Bank, and spoke at some length with great zeal, 
 and considerable eloquence. He was followed by Mr r 
 
HKMAINS I 
 
 Clay, whose silvery voice, immediately riveted the at 
 tention of the House! and who delivered an effective 
 speech in reply to the various speakers who preceded 
 him, without entering deeply into the question of de 
 bate. His enunciation is correct, his Inn^uacc elegant. 
 but seldom striking and, we imagine j lc j< rat | u , r an 
 effective skirmisher in debate than a powerful sneaker 
 I pon an assertion of Mr. Tazewell that the Constitution 
 had ever proved blank paper to an interested majority. 
 and that the restrictive portion of the Rank Charter 
 would share the same fate with the Directors, he was quite 
 lost; and elicited a reply from the old veteran, which 
 shewed there were blows to take, as well as to rive 
 and proved the Senator from the Old Dominion finite an 
 adept in the art of chopping ] gj ( .. Mr \Vebstcr next 
 occupied the floor, and defended the Ha,rk at consider. 
 Jtb c length. His manner is chaste and elegant, but 
 <*oM and unexciting, though energetic. His flow of 
 h l-ua re* ,s^ the easiest and finest I have ever known. 
 Mr. Dallas person and manners are striking charac 
 teristic of his style of speaking mild, courteous, and 
 Hegant. 
 
 WASHINGTON- CITV, June 6. 
 
 . I entered the House to-day just as it had resolved 
 itself into a Committee of the whole on the State of the 
 I n.oa upon the Tariff. Mr. Dravton took the floor. 
 and was listened to throughout with the utmost atten 
 tion and marked respect. I find, thoroughly to enlist 
 the attention of the House, to be no smairfcat. and to 
 met it throughout to be a much greater. The mem 
 bers generally have a great many letters to write, and 
 n great many papers to read, and only occasionally lift 
 their heads to attend to an indifferent speaker. The si 
 lence that prevailed as soon as Col. Drayton opened his 
 remarks, was a certain indication of the high estima 
 tion m winch his opinion is held, and an evidence that 
 
 10 
 
74 HUM A INS POLITICAL. 
 
 however little dispo^td to profit by, they were willing 
 to listen to his emphatic warning. He opened with a 
 chaste exordium expressing his conviction, feelingly, 
 hut without menace, of the interesting an 1 momentous 
 character of the question now submitted to the discre 
 tion, good sense and patriotism of the House of it* 
 desolating effects, moral, as well as physical, in the 
 South of the state of feeling of alienated feeling it 
 had engendered and its intimate connection with the 
 peace and harmony of ihe Union. He did not intend 
 to discuss the constitutional question, but v.onld content 
 himself with expressing his firm conviction, that the 
 system was utterly at variance with the spirit, if not 
 with the letter, of that Charier. He would not discuss 
 at large, its policy, but he was equally settled in his 
 belief, that it was partial, unjust and oppressive. His 
 object in rising \\as to indicate the spirit, with which 
 IK thought the subject ought to be taken up and dispo 
 sed of. That if it were maU: a contest instead of a com 
 promise, no laurels would be won on either side. He 
 was aware he was in a minority upon both points upon 
 which the question had hitherto turned, but the mino 
 rity was large, and respectable, and intelligent, and IH- 
 tet extc tf knowing* because y<W//j<, r , their burthens, and 
 that it was vain to talk of delusions, and imaginary op 
 pressions. He trusted such allusions would neither bv 
 made, nor relied on that a totally different course 
 would In pursued, or he seriously feared for the Con 
 stitution. it was formed with a different spirit, it could 
 be preserved only by a different spirit. The system in 
 its present form could not exist, and the United States 
 exist also. 
 
 He wished to impress upon the House the necessity 
 of a middle ground. He could neither agree with \\\* 
 colleague, (Mr. McDnflic) nor with the friends of the 
 System, and he felt bound to say why lie differed from 
 the former. He believed the principle, that the bur 
 then fell upon the- constimeis of all clas>cs. and u|>onth< 
 
\l KM A I N S 1 ( U . ITI r \ I . 73 
 
 Cotton grower only in the rapacity of a consumer, to lie 
 incontrovertible^ that the price of a staple. produced 
 in such large quantities, Kttvtng sncfi extensive markets, 
 as cotton, was not regulated hy local legislation: it 
 was settled by the quantity, quality and demand in 
 other words, as every thing else, idtimr .tcly hy demand 
 and supply. lie did not mean to underrate the evil, it 
 was sufficiently great without resorting to exaggeration. 
 As to the position, that the TariflV/iw/W / i, r <Wv, he 
 required hut one proof to convince him of its soundness. 
 When the friends of the system should demand a low 
 er rate of duties in order to raise the price which 
 was manifestly their interest he would hecome a con 
 vert to the force of the ancnmeni. lie felt no inclina 
 tion to destroy the system "at one fell swoop,"" he 
 only desired a gradual reduction to a revenue system. 
 He explained another objection he had to Ins col 
 league s hill, and shewed that it recognised the princi 
 ple of a protective Tariff. He also dwelt upon the 
 doctrine of the veto, which had been glanced at: and en 
 tered into an argument to shew it^ utter discordance 
 with the letter, spirit, and entire principles of the Fe 
 deral and State Governments. lie concluded with im 
 pressing upon the House, the necessity of taking up 
 the subject in a proper spirit of divesting themselves 
 of all partiznnship and meeting the question as a great 
 national concern. 
 
 WASHINGTON CITY, June 8. 
 
 Yesterday Mr. White, of Tennessee, occupied the 
 Senate two hours iqwn the Rank question, without con 
 cluding his argument. He brings it to a close to-day, 
 and will, it is said, move that the subject be referred 
 to the Secretary of the Treasury to report upon. 
 That it has hee prematurely pressed upon Congrcsn 
 for the purpose of influencing the Presidential question, 
 there cannot be a rational doubt, and the object of such 
 
7G HKMAlNa - POLITICAL. 
 
 a it- IV mice would be to deter the question to llie next 
 session, which is in fact too soon to decide upon an insti 
 tution wielding such tremendous power for good or evil, 
 and defeat the manoeuvre of an opposition, whose ob 
 ject is not the good of Jie country, Init to fetter, har- 
 rass and destroy the present administration, and ride 
 into oflice upon the credulity of the ]>eople. That the 
 President lias fully made up his mind as to the course 
 he will pursue in the matter, no one can doubt, who 
 knows his character, his unswerving resolution to fulfil 
 his pledges of office, without faltering about consequen 
 ces. Fortunately, in any event, the malice of his 
 enemies is impotent, and we consider it no slight indi 
 cation of the soundness, good sense and integrity of the 
 American people, that despite the reckless, unceasing. 
 unprincipled obloquy that has been heaped upon the. 
 administration, the still remain faithful to the Pwi- 
 
 f/citt of t/u - Pc j/ile, and will bear him triumphantly 
 through the storm, which the plotting malice of his 
 cncmks has prepared to overwhelm him. We are 
 gratified to be able to assure the friends of den. Jack 
 son, that Ms health and spirits are all they could 
 desire them. 
 
 Ill the House, yesterday, Mr. Da via, of Massachu 
 setts, addressed the Committee of the Whole for three 
 hours upon the tarillV He especially pitted himself 
 against Mr. McDufitc, whose ultra notions, he lumin- 
 ousiy analyzed, and. we thought, sometimes, conclusively- 
 refuted, though the general and really strong features 
 of the question, ami some of Mr. McDuftie s original 
 and powerful illustrations, he either failed fairly and 
 fully to meet, or studiously avoided. He is the strong- 
 horse of the manufacturers, and is evidently a man of 
 nervous, well disciplined mind, and a practical debater. 
 Mr. McDuflie, unfortunately, sometimes afforded him 
 room for cavil, hut otherwise his apology for the sy<- 
 tera wa,s trite and glaringly unsatisfactory, and made a 
 Unking contrast to the overwhelming mass of objections 
 
RKMA1NS POLITICAL. 77 
 
 adduced by that gentleman. In this speech lie made 
 no addition to the principles and illustrations he used 
 in his reply to Mr. McDuflie, in 1830. nor did he ap 
 pear to as much advantage as \ve had hern led to expect 
 from the perusal of his remarks on that occasion. 
 When he concluded, Mr. Mitchell, of S. C. took the 
 floor, and addressed the Committee for two hours, in a 
 speech of uncommon hriiliancy and power. He opened 
 with a chaste exordium, pointing out the absolute ne 
 cessity ef a compromise between the two parties, 
 (hat it was imperatively demanded by the state of the 
 nation, and that whatever were the obstacles that in 
 terposed and pride of opinion, and sectional interest 
 both militated against it they ought, and must he 
 satisfied. He compared the situation of the House to 
 th.it of a session he Irad witnessed during the last war, 
 and drew a vivid sketch of the state of the country at 
 ihat period its extreme poverty and embarrassment, 
 &c. He delineated with great felicity the disputes 
 and divisions occasioned by the proposition and adjust- 
 meat of internal taxes the discordant interests created, 
 and the difficulty in effecting <\ harmonious compro 
 mise. The members from the interior opposed the 
 tax on whiskey, as injurious to their constituents, while 
 the members from the cities and sea- board as strenn- 
 fMisly objected to the stamp tax on the same ground of 
 sectional interest. That the distracted state of the 
 country loudly called for compromise, and that, amid 
 all those contending interests, the call was heard and 
 obeyed. He said, he doubted not that the same, pci- 
 haps greater, difficulties, prevailed now, but that the 
 same, if not greater, necessity for compromise existed, 
 and he invoked the patriotism of the House to be equal 
 to the sacrifice. He said that he had observed a spirit 
 of conciliation and compromise every where but on this 
 floor, and that the opposite disposition had never been 
 so apparent to him as it was now evidenced by the 
 amendment of tho gentleman from Pennsylvania, Mr, 
 
78 U&JlAlN* - IHJL1TICAL. 
 
 Stewart. He then instituted a comparison between 
 the amendment in question and tlie clause in the bill 
 tor which it is substituted, and by entering into de 
 tails, and analysing and examining the bearing of both, 
 proved that the former was palpably the more oppres 
 sive of the two. He sketched the origin and progress 
 of this amendment, traced its history back to its origin 
 in the Hartford Convention, by which it was rejected, 
 subsequently to Mr. Mallary. by whom it was proposed 
 as an amendment of the act of 18:2H, and then a second 
 time rejected! And this projwsition, he went on to 
 say, which was first conceived and broached by the 
 famous, or rather infamous Hartford Convention, and 
 was rejected in 18\iS by both Committee and House, as 
 loo ultra, exorbitant and oppressive, was now seriously 
 iiropnscd as a measure of cnttciiiution (tud ttniprQmi&t 
 He then referred to the other amend ntents that had 
 been submitted to the Committee, examined their pro 
 visions at some length. and proved, that they exorbi 
 tantly increased the duties they pretended to diminish. 
 He observed that all the promises of relief held out by 
 the bill, were couched in language, sufficiently intelli 
 gible, but the burthens were so wrapped up and con 
 cealed by the details of manufacturing and commercial 
 phrases aud jargon, as to be often inscrutable. 
 
 He next took up the chief hill, (Mr. Adams ) and 
 dwelt upon its principles and provisions at considerable 
 length, and with great acuteness and ability. He said, 
 that desirous as he was of a compromise, and, if he 
 knew himself, it was the first wish of his heart, he 
 could not recognize the principle upon which it was 
 founded. That the bill proposed the laying of a reve 
 nue beyond the necessary go vern mental expenditure, 
 which he conceived to be the limit of constitutional 
 taxation, and that this feature alone was enough forever 
 to deprive it of his support. He said, its lead ing prin 
 ciple was the broad ground assumed bv Alexander 
 Hamilton in his report on manufactures, that the power 
 
HKMAIVS I Ol.ll l< A I.. 7V 
 
 i)l Congress to ax was plenary and indefinite, as also 
 ihcir power to appropriate the proceeds of taxation lo 
 any object within the scope of the terms, ill..- U-OHMIIOII 
 defence and general wclf;ii\.." lie said. Uiat thi> dor- 
 trine had received the marked reprobation of the peo 
 ple by their decided censure of the Federalists in IHOO, 
 expressly on lhi.> ground thai the overthrow rf this 
 party \\ as attributable solely to the abhorrence of the 
 people to this sweeping doctrine, for they \\ere other 
 wise able, and influential; >omc of them revolutionary 
 pat riots -many of them members of the Convention 
 that framed the Constittition and all sustained by the 
 sanction of lien. Washington: that, notwithstanding 
 all these circumstances in their favor, the people de 
 creed their political death for this one olleitcc. lla>- 
 ing established this point, he went on to &!iow, that the 
 people had never subsequently received this principle 
 iiuo favor that it w;> recognised in none of the vari 
 ous Tarifi hills beyond the single exception of the JKI\- 
 ment of the national debt, liy way of illustration, he 
 referred to the acts of IS H , 1824, and 18:8. and alM) 
 in further confirmation of his position, and to prove the 
 sense of the people to the late Free Trade and TarilV 
 Conventions, and to the President s Mcs>ay;c. He also 
 referred to several resolutions which had been laid be 
 fore Congress, to Mr. Clay s among others, which seem 
 ed to sanction his opinion, by providing for the diminu 
 tion of the revenue, \\hile it sustained the principle ol 
 protection. 
 
 Vie commented on various other resolutions, to prove 
 that public opinion was decided, and settled that jM>int. 
 After settling this standard of taxation, as the only 
 constitutional one, Mr. M. proceeded to enquire how 
 the taxes, under such a regime, should be assessed: 
 contending, that there was but one method- which 
 combined all the requisites of a Republican scheme of 
 taxation^ simplicity, equality, and justice, which 
 was the similar rate of ad ratnrem duties on all article* 
 
SO HfcMAlXS VOLItlCAL. 
 
 whatever. He proceeded to institute a contparisoif 
 between the simplicity and obvious working of this 
 scheme, and the intricate nature and difficult adjust 
 ment of minimum duties. After some further re 
 marks to prove, that the power to tax was confined to 
 raising the necessary revenue, and not to extend to 
 protection, lie drew a parallel between the state of the* 
 manufacturing interest in "83, when the true "Ameri 
 can System/ free trade prevailed, and hi )807 f 
 when the embargo and noii- intercourse law laid the 
 foundation of the restrictive policy* and proved by 
 argument clear and illustration conclusive, that their 
 condition was decidedly more flourishing during the 
 former period, lie stated, that Mr. Gallatin in 1810, 
 by the direction of Congress, investigated the state of 
 the manufacturing interests, and found its capital one 
 hundred and twenty-seven millions, since which time, 
 bolstered up, fostered, and extravagantly petted as it 
 had bee!), it had increased only out- hundred and 
 twenty- three millions. He said, it could be established, 
 from the munufacturei s own showing, that the system 
 had not worked to their advantage that the Tariff of 
 18l<> was ivpcalc.l by them as inemVu iit that that of 
 18 l ^i had not prwi-d beneficial, and that that of 182H 
 was censured by their own leaders, Niles, Carey and 
 others. Me said, that the only leading politician on 
 that side, who had claimed any especial benefit as re 
 sulting from the system, was Mr. Clay; v, ho after draw 
 ing a brilliant sketch of the prosperous state of the 
 Tniou, an unprecedented progress of iiiuiK use resources, 
 and gratifying prospects; had summed up by attribu 
 ting this sU\te of af lairs solely to the Tariff! Mr. Mitch 
 ell said, he was not altogether satisfied of the correctness 
 of the picture the gentleman had drawn that there 
 were dark, as well as bright, points in the canvass 
 there were shadows which obscured the brilliancy of the 
 picture blots, which mar the beauty of its colouring, 
 tnd irregularities, which destroy the harmony of it 
 
KEMMNS VOI.ITICAL. 81 
 
 proportions. He would not stop to illustrate his mean 
 ing by reference to particular sections of the country, 
 but he could not but be irresistibly remi tided, by the 
 gentleman * propensity to collect every happy result 
 in our widely extended I nion. and attribute it indiscri 
 minately to the "bill of abominations, of an anecdote 
 he had met with in French History. \Vhcn Marshal 
 Turenne was at the zenith of hi* fame, it happened on 
 some state occasion, when the Monarch and his nohl s 
 had assembled to do him honor, that the dancing mas 
 ter of his youth was perched in the gallery, viewing 
 the pageant, though ignorant of the name of the indi 
 vidual, who was the occasion of it. A bystander at his 
 request, having explained the occasion of the fete, and 
 recounted the civil and military services of the distin 
 guished guest, was not a little astonished (o hear the 
 following summary and v;ry satisfac/ory solution of his 
 greatness at the hands of the delighted ntaitrc de dtnisc. 
 Sare, he is all you say he is one very great man, but 
 how could he be odare dan un grand fionune. w hen he 
 had de supreme felicity de ecstatic beatitude, and 
 tie sublunary bliss, to receive instruction in the sub 
 lime art de gavotte from myself!! Qifoimfjnc tandem 
 Catalina. abut ere fmtientia nostra? 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 After the adjournment of the House we strolled into 
 the Senate, and found Mr. White in the middle of his 
 very able argument against re-chartering the United 
 States Bank. His arguments covered every ground 
 pro and co/i, exhibited great familiarity with details, 
 and research of a very thorough and extensive charac 
 ter. Mr. White had evidently prepared himself with 
 considerable pains, and embodied a mass of information, 
 which provechus lal>or had not been thrown away. He 
 did not hesitate to intimate, that the immovable vote 
 which would be given by the Senate would not be 
 final, that the President would give them an opportu 
 nity of reconsidering their decision, and that the friends 
 
 11 
 
gg REMAIN* POLITIC Al,. 
 
 of the administration did not fear the result among the 
 people. When lit; concluded, Mr. Benton took the 
 floor, and opened with sonic very eaustic remarks upon 
 the species of dumb legislation, which had been adop 
 ted by the omnipotent majority. His rebuke was pi 
 quant in the extreme, and though creating an univer 
 sal smile, seemed to have no other cfl ect upon the afore 
 said omnipotent majority, who, wedded to their darling, 
 and obstinately inaccessible to conviction, forthwith 
 proceeded to vote down every motion to adjourn, in 
 order to force the question forthwith. Mr. Barton, 
 npon the failure of the motion for adjournment, pro 
 ceeded briefly to recapitulate most of his leading objec 
 tions to the charter in its present form, and to advo 
 cate his proposed substitute, found in several smaller 
 institutions, with more limited charters, in diil cmit 
 parts of the Union. He had not taken his seat, when 
 a motion to that ciTect having prevailed, the Senate 
 adjourned at half past five. 
 
 June 20, 
 
 The Hon. Charles C. Johnston, a member from Vir 
 ginia, who by some casualty was drowned in the dock, 
 at Alexandria, was yesterday committed to the place 
 of his final repose. The funeral ceremony was in the 
 highest degree solemn and impressive. The service 
 was read in the Hall of Representatives by the Chap 
 lain, after which the procession, to the number of a 
 hundred carriages, moved to the National Cemetry, a 
 lonely spot, about two miles east of the Capitol, where 
 the remains of such members as die at the seat of Gov 
 ernment arc deposited. Their places arc distinguished 
 by common monuments a small freestone pillar, based 
 on a pedestal, and surmounted with a conical top of a 
 plain, but neat, appearance. Here are about twenty 
 members deposited; among them Hon. John Oaillanl. 
 
REMAINS 1 OLITIC \L. 8.3 
 
 and Maj. Gen. Jacob Brown, of South-Carolina. The 
 monuments of George Clinton, and Elbridge Gerry are 
 the most conspicuous, being elegant pyramids of turned 
 freestone, supporting marble vases, and the former 
 ornamented with a bust of the deceased. 
 
 The House to-day was hard at the Tariff, still in com 
 mittee. No decisive vote was taken, but the amend 
 ments were generally favorable to the South. The 
 subject will probably get into the House the day after 
 to-morrow, when our fate \\ill be quickly ascertained. 
 
 In the Senate, at the usual hour, the special order of 
 the day the Public Lands was taken up, after some 
 skirmishing upon a motion to go into Executive busi 
 ness, which appeared considerably to ruffle the Ken 
 tucky Orator, who was prepared to hold forth, and the 
 expectation of hearing whom, had filled the gallery and 
 colonnade to overflowing with ladies and citizens. He 
 sj>oke for four hours in, we were told, his most effective 
 manner; and certainly displayed a great deal of ingenui 
 ty, united to unrivalled elegance of delivery. His 
 views were, with a little embellishment of style, 
 and occasional facctia*, substantially the same as 
 tho>c of his report; and we thought \vcre generally 
 sound, except upon the question of territorial sove 
 reignty: which he argued loosely, and to which he 
 attached little importance, or was conscious of weak 
 ness. \Vc have not time to give an outline of his argu 
 ment, which will no doubt soou appear in print. We 
 observed Messrs. King and Benton taking notes, and 
 the former has the floor for to-morrow. He is an able 
 speaker, acquainted with the subject, and an ani 
 mated discussion is looked for. 
 
HEMAIN.S POLITICAL. 
 
 SKETCHES OF PUBLIC CHARACTERS.* 
 
 lu a speech delivered during; the discussion of the 
 Tariff last session, by the Hon. Richard Henry Wilde, 
 of Georgia, the speaker steps aside from the heated 
 atmosphere of politics and the dull detail of statistical 
 items, to refresh himself in recalling associations less- 
 embittered by partisan feelings, and pays a classical 
 tribute to departed and contemporary worth. He has 
 arrived, in his sketch of the rise and progress of the 
 restrictive system, to its critical state at the commence 
 ment of the fourteenth Congress, the chief characters 
 
 \Ve publish HI the request of its n*si|H?ctn! author, the follow ing extract of* 
 [filer, aiMie rd to in, and regret, that Lis forbearance towards oar own opi 
 nion-, forbid* our giving he entire communication. \\ a cannot but desire a 
 ontinuaiM-e of hi* favors, though they should only s-r\- -ill I more to reveal 
 points of dillerence between us; and being conscious onrselte* of ne "atnaha- 
 Itstntonia," nnd absolving our friend from the "HI* nti* gratis*iinu$ error" 
 of weak minds, we should rather he. inclined to hope, tS it b\ a closer coiinno- 
 nion ultruimn on both *idex, might be cured liille excrescences nnd irrepn- 
 !itriiie< worn nwav nnd tin: gwicikl hurf.urs of opinion brought nearer toge 
 ther. 
 
 "I have road, \vilh jlea.sure, your stric tares on the most distingnishcd Ora 
 tor* of thi* country. I bclime no deliborulixe assembly in the world erer D<HM 
 ccftscit a higher runU nn regard- nil the n*i|ui*ilos of the tini-hed Orator nnd 
 S alotnan, than the Congress of thu I nited State*. You tuny, indeed, find 
 more of iho grucev of elocution, nnd peih.-p-. more |M I-U:HI\- power in some 
 of thii productions of <iu>e>-e and Koine. I ut these great e\h:bition ofgeniu 
 ire of rare otfiiireiu-e, ;m<l scarcely itiy of them contain nnv great lesion. 1 * of 
 instruction. I hey iidd linle, ifnny tiling, to the flock of human knowledge. 
 They remind u* of the Orator, but not of the Statesman. They conduct u* 
 to no important principles of legislation. Almost ull of them are theeljoiN ol* 
 (he advocate. Individual, not rational \vionp-pa\e them birth. On the con- 
 tr.iry, ;\ery question that ha.4 greatly agitated our National C onncil and inter 
 ested the people, hu involved in the discussion of it, some ef the most difli- 
 rult aiid important principles of human government ;. 
 
 * 4 \\e ha\e KCII those great and ultimate que^ions of liberty, freely and 
 ftmiliurlv ^Hewned, in our Legislative Halls, for the first time in the world. 
 That which, in other countries, H consieV red solely the province of the phr- 
 hi-opher, in here the hiiine*4 of tli htatesman. In other countries, the al>- 
 Hract principle* of political right have nlwuvti a|ipe:tied dry, repuUive, and 
 r.aprofitahle, while they are studied and dUeussed as the foundation of national 
 prosperity. \\ e refer to them, every important art of lesistation. Hence it 
 has happened, that the eloquence of the I*. States is characterized by a calm 
 and argumentative style, b omc of our orators frequently become metaphvsi- 
 c.il. Hut it H the mcMphysic.4 of liberty itself. Of tin-, character I would 
 Instance th: spoi";!i of Judge, Rowau on I ool a Resolutionf*. Such 
 
REMAINS P01.lt l< AL. S3 
 
 of which he has selected to exhibit his skill as a lim 
 ner of intellectual features. The portraits are gra 
 phic, and evince the hand of an artist, though occasion 
 ally rather too poetically colored to convey a very 
 distinct and definite impression: and sometimes too 
 
 ought to bo familiar to us. He that doe* not rcli>h and understand the-o argu 
 ment*, H not fit to legislate for freemen. The peeche of Mr. MeDwtle, I 
 apprehend, have nevtr been surpassed for clearness of style, nnd irresistible 
 reasons. Those who deny hi* conclusions, are compelled to deny *cienc 
 itself. He illustrates his principles w ith more perspicuity, with a greater 
 variety nnd power of determination, thnn can be found in the best writer* on 
 political economy. He understand *, and <\.n command, the beauties of r!o- 
 ration. Tut he never dine-over* the Orator until he has finished his argument. 
 I have mentioned thee instance* to illustrate, my idea of the characteristic 
 feature, of American eloquence. I readily admit, that there are many admira 
 ble specimens of commanding and persu.i<i\e eloquence in the deflttm of tho 
 Hritish Purli-iment. Hut I maintain, that if we in-oU for intntction in thu 
 nature of government*, or the great maximsof human legislation, the *peec|e* 
 in the Parliament of (ireat llritain would be our h>t Mudy, nnd those in the 
 Congress- of the I nitcd States our fmt. Thw character of our deliberative 
 eloquence hns undoubtedly resulted from the p**ctiliar nature cf our conftnio- 
 racy. Allow me to dwell upon this subject a little. The principles of liberty- 
 are not only the foundation of our povernmti>t, but our whole political fabric 
 P TJves a phock whenever those principle* are lot ciht of. llence in even 
 act of mi0\ernment the legislator is compi lled to w his emir whether he 
 will correct it or not. An is5ao is immediately made up between him and 
 lhoe wlio snrier from his partial and oppressive laws. A content enu in 
 the course of which those principles are again brought into action. Agnin 0>c 
 whole political machine move* on in harmony . for those principles constitute 
 its wheel.*. In other gONernments, many superficial expedients of tyranny are 
 resoited to, to keep up ,1 motion in the body politic. For thorough reform 
 generally causes delay, and sometimes occasions n painful reaction. Hut their 
 m!er* always delight in an easy and rapid motion. Even in this country, 
 Jhosic cheap and ready expedients arc sometimes persisted in, until a wheel is 
 broken, or > complete!) obstructed, that the whole *y>tcm fceln the shock 
 from the centre to the extremes. In this cause tiiueh puflering is occasioned, 
 and liberty grcatl? endangered. For our ruler* are reluctant to make thorough 
 repair*. They protest agninst the delay. They tell us, if we compel them to 
 -(op in their swift career, we *hall make the government "a rope of wnd " 
 We, however, orgc the necessity of some delay for the iake of freedom. We 
 tell them they must reinstate the original wheels upon which our government 
 first b -gnn to move, for that by their present contrivance the vehicle w crush 
 ing us to death. We inform them, moreover, thai thwc wheels are the several 
 ftates of our Confederacy. But they reply: "It is presumption in the Stalest 
 to give themselves *o conspicuoux a place. Il in true, they wheeled us rao 
 rcsufolly through ihe Revolution: But then ihe Prople, not the Statti, 
 formed a new <>overnment the only wheel of which in a majority in Coo- 
 re*i. And a* for \our being crushed by this wheel, we tell yon, il is all a 
 delation. I not th w government ptwperoot? Do we nol nde delightfully? 
 Ten mil! ion* annually for the American Pynttm ! t triumph f! /7erf> 
 
ttKMAl.NS -POLITICAL. 
 
 much colored or inflamed* as may be, by prejudice, 
 to be implicitly followed. It is not that we charge 
 upon Mr. Wilde the absence of discriminate praise 
 or censure. They would equally suppose what can- 
 not exist, and by that means defeat the object of criti 
 cism which is to balance excellencies against defects, 
 and sum up the account. Examples of perfect excel 
 lence sup]M)sing for a moment their existence are 
 insipid in their delineation and useless in their influ 
 ence. They arc unaj/ftroachabfe. and when nil ex 
 ample is most efficacious, in inviting to imitation lost 
 to the world. Hut we rather think Mr. Wilde s poeti 
 cal prejudices have somewhat warped his judgment, 
 and in meting out his praise, he is a little afraid of 
 committing himself in favor of an opponent. 
 
 We have said, that some of Mr. Wilde s portraits, 
 (hough striking and characteristic, did not appear to us 
 just or fully so. We would instance Mr. Clay, to 
 wards the character of whose heart, we think, he 
 has been too forbearing, while to that of his head, he 
 lias been scarcely just. We trust we may say, without 
 derilectiou of our political opinions, that Mr. Clay is 
 by no means what Nature intended him to be. anil is 
 much more distinguished for what he j/jrir/i/havc been. 
 than what he is as Cicero said of a contemporary 
 "non etitm res laudanda. acd spes." Impressions of 
 character are derived from a thousand trivial sources. 
 which cannot afterwards be collected, and the facts. 
 upon which our opinion is founded, have vanished 
 from memory, and it would be impossible to recall them. 
 as the image in the mirror, when the object has disap 
 peared. Perhaps our political pupilage has prevented 
 our imbibing prejudices or well founded objections. 
 which immediate contact and heated campaigns may 
 have engendered, and thence we may be able to form 
 a more impartial, if not more correct estimate. We 
 must confess that our opportunity of making up the 
 opinion we advance has been but slight, and our ver- 
 
UKUAINS POLITICAL, 87 
 
 diet should perhaps he received with many graces of 
 allowance. In debate, as m every thing else, Mr. 
 Clay is bold, fearless and enterprising, underrating all 
 difficulties, or relying securely upon his ability to sur 
 mount them. In the skirmish of controversy he is 
 powerful, and we take him rather to be an elite live 
 debater, than an able speakerfruitful in expedients, 
 shrewd in his views of management mawruvrc. and 
 vigilant and untiring in their execution. Nature si-cms 
 expressly to have intended him for the sphere he fills 
 a crowded scene, where the bickerings of party and 
 the melee of personal conflict elicit all his energies 
 to wield them to his own advantage where sympa 
 thies are to be enlisted, prejudices aroused, and local 
 interests called into play, and where a master spirit is 
 wanted to urge the lukewarm, the timid and the con 
 scientious, and repress the vivacious and precipitate 
 alternately to excite and allay the "tempestuous tonvnt, 
 and, as it were, the whirlwind" of human passion. 
 Mr. Clay is calculated to wield an almost magical influ 
 ence over a deliberative body, but the fascination of his 
 manner has not latterly, we suspect, been aided by- 
 application to his legislative duties. He has in prefer 
 ence devoted himself to the calculations of his prospects 
 and their improvement, and, we think, has been influ 
 enced by "the last infirmity of noble minds, - to the 
 prostration of his intellect, as well as of his hopes. 
 
 Toward Mr. Webster too, Mr. Wilde though he 
 has been just, is not fully so. Mortifying as it may be 
 to a Southern man, we cannot but feel, that he is far 
 ahead of his coadjutors in either House of Congress. 
 Two parts of the noble eulogium pronounced by Patcr- 
 culus* upon Cicero may be justly applied to him; in the 
 third particular we conceive him to be generally, if not 
 entirely, deficient; and the highest praise we can award 
 to him and it is high though more appropriate to the 
 
 "Ornftia nnimotidit, inferno mplr T et(, fl*q*rttti* illuminarit." 
 
88 REMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 Philosopher than the Orator is that by Cicero of 
 Plato "dum lego assentio." His command of lan 
 guage is the finest we have ever heard, flowing in one 
 powerful and unbroken current, never betraying him 
 into a moment s hesitation, or hurrying him upon an 
 inelegant expression. His style is neat, pointed, and 
 nervous, his gestures few, unstudied and not inelegant: 
 and his voice loud, sonorous, and well modulated. In 
 the skirmish of debate we imagine he docs not excel, 
 either from inability to bandy the badinage, which con 
 stitutes its spriujhtli ness and efficiency, or disdaining to 
 shoot at so low a target; to relinquish the buskin, and 
 become candle-snuffer; to descend from his war-horse, 
 and become scout and forager. His character has been 
 repeatedly drawn, and always with tolerable correct 
 ness. On ordinary occasions, he is plain and simple, 
 and his style scarcely rises above the level of colloquial 
 ease; while at the same time, he pours out masses of 
 thought that overwhelm by their force, if they do not 
 dazzle by their beauty. Mr. Webster has paid little at 
 tention to the Rhetorician; he is impressive, but lacks 
 grace; he is energetic, but deficient in fire his elo 
 cution is correct, but wants fluency and ease; but these 
 slight blemishes are amply compensated by a strong, 
 original vein of good sense masses of facts and reflec 
 tions, which he brings to bear with prodigious force 
 upon the subject matter a clearness of conception and 
 expression which is seldom seen and an occasional dry 
 sarcastic vein of humor, which, from its rarity and un 
 expected occurrence, is pcculiary poignant and effec 
 tive. In his extemporaneous efforts, and these are by 
 far the most frequent, he does not seem desirous to 
 make a display or figure as an Orator, but moves steadi 
 ly forward, piling argument upon argument, and heap 
 ing thought upon thought, subjecto Pelio Ossam, until 
 he reaches the conclusion he has proposed, and has 
 convinced, as he believes, the minds of those he is ad 
 dressing. This, however, is done with so little appar 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. 9 
 
 vnt feeling with such coolness and temperance of man 
 ner that the hearer, though perhaps convinced, is not 
 always delighted. He has indeed heard much to fill 
 his mind, but nothing that was calculated to tickle his 
 tar, or charm his fancy. But though Mr. Webster be 
 generally, and upon extern poraneous occasions, cold and 
 inanimate, he is unquestionably capable, in premedita 
 ted efforts, of powerful bursts of eloquence; but these 
 belong rather to the writer, than to the orator and he 
 is thus enabled to unite the correctness of composition 
 to the charms of elocution and the impressive ness of ac^ 
 tion. On such occasions, when thoroughly roused, his 
 sarcasm is excessively keen, and his satire biting, 
 and an unusual earnestness of his manner gives a much 
 greater air of sincerity and force to what he says, than 
 on ordinary occasions. There is, certainly, "more of 
 judgment than imagination in Mr. Webster. He has 
 been so long used to the exercise of the former, that he 
 deems the employment of the latter unnecessary, if it 
 ever existed to a sufficient extent to render it a useful 
 auxiliary nor is the memory a very prominent faculty 
 of his mind, for though it may serve him in that parti 
 cular vocation to which he is called, it seems to fail him, 
 when he desires its aid to illustrate or embellish, by a 
 happy quotation from the poet, historian, or orator/ 
 His mind is certainly naturally logical, though, we are 
 inclined to believe impaired by the sophistry of the 
 bar, and he isoflen*tempted to "make the worse appear 
 the better reason" ty powerful but specious analogies. 
 From being a great constitutional lawyer, his political 
 polar star, the federal creed of Mr. Hamilton, and the 
 "sweeping doctrine" of Mr. Adams precludes him. 
 He is said to be a much greater jurist, and founder of 
 law than legislation, and it is chiefly in the Su 
 preme Court, that he puts forth all his strength, and 
 brings all his various knowledge and power of illustra 
 tion to bear upon the point in hand. 
 
 The following are some of Mr. Wilde s sketches 
 
 12 
 
90 11 KM A INS - POLITIC A I . 
 
 They are brief, but comprehensive picturesque, but 
 highly graphic. The speaker is tracing the history of 
 the American System, and arrives at that stage of its 
 progress when it was submitted to the fourteenth Con 
 gress, when peace had just been ratified with Great 
 Britain, when the war duties were no longer called 
 for, when a new revenue system was to be organized, 
 and the question, how our infant Manufactories were to 
 be treated, was about to be discussed. 4 *It was under 
 such circumstances/* says he that the fourteenth Con 
 gress assembled. At that time 1 had the honor to be a 
 member of this House. It was an honor then. What 
 it is now, I shall not say. It is what the twenty-second 
 Congress have been pleased to make it. I have neither 
 time, nor strength, nor ability, to speak of the legisla 
 tors of that day , its they deserve; nor is tins the fit oc 
 casion. Vet UK* coldest or most careless nature cannot 
 recur to such associates without some touch of generous 
 feeling, which, i:i quicker spirits, would kindle into 
 hi;$h and almost holy enthusiasm." 
 
 LOWNDK*, t*f South Carolina. -Pre-eminent; 
 yet not iron- proudly than humbly pre-eminent, among 
 them, was gentleman from South-Carolina, now no more; 
 the purest, the calmest, the most philosophical of our coun- 
 lr\ ji modern statesmen. One, no less remarkable for gentle 
 ness of manners, and Kindness of heart, than for that pas 
 sionless, unclouded intellect, which rendered him deserving 
 of the praise if ever man deserved it of merely standing 
 by, and letting reason argue for him. Che true patriot, in 
 capable of all selfish ambition, who shtmned ofiice and dis 
 tinction, yet served his country faithfully, because he loved 
 her. He, I mean who consecrated, by his example, the no- 
 hie precept, so entirely his own, that the first station in the 
 republic was neither to he sought after nor declined a sen 
 timent so just and so Inppily expressed, that it continues to 
 lie repeated, because it cannot he improved." 
 
 WILLIAM PINKNKY, C/Jfa*y/*4~There was also, a 
 gentleman from Maryland, whose ashes now slumber in your 
 cemetery. It is not long since I stood by his tomb, and re 
 called him, as he was then, in all the pride and power of hi* 
 
in.MUNs I ot.rric.vi,. 91 
 
 Among the first of his countrymen ami contempo 
 raries, as a jurist and statesman, first as an orator, he was, if 
 not truly eloquent, the prince ot rhetoricians. Nor did the 
 soundness of his logic sulIVr any tiling by a comparison with 
 Ihr richness and classical purity of the language in which he 
 Copiously poured forth those figurative illustrations of his ar 
 gument* which enforce while thev adorned it. Hut let 
 others pronounce; his eulogy, t must not. 1 feel as if his 
 mijjhty spirit still haunted the scene of his triumphs, and 
 when I dared to wrong then), indignantly rebuked me." 
 
 "These names have become historical. There were others, 
 of whom it is more difficult to speak, because yet within the 
 reach of praise or envy. For one who was, or aspired to be, 
 a politician, it would be prudent, pcrhap.s wise, t .> avoid all 
 mention of there men. Their acts, their words, their 
 thoughts, their very looks, have bccomo subjects of contro 
 versy. Hut he whose ambition is of a higher or a lower or 
 der, has no need of such reserve. Talent is of no party ex 
 clusively; nor is justice." 
 
 JOHN RANDOLPH, of Itoanokc. "Among them, but not 
 of the in, in the fearful and solitary sublimity of genius, stood 
 a gentleman from Virginia whom it were superfluous to 
 designate. -Whose speeches were universally read. Whose 
 s.ilirc was universally feared? Upon whose accents did this 
 habitually listless and unlistcniug House hang, ?o frequent 
 ly with wrapt attention? Whose fame was identified with 
 that body for so long a period? Who was a morn dexterous 
 debater? a riper scholar? better versed in the politics of our 
 own country? or deeper read in the history of others? Above 
 all, who was more thoroughly imbued with the idiom of thr 
 English language; more completely master of its strength 
 and beauty, and delicacy? or more capable of breathing 
 thoughts of flame in words of magic and tones of silver?" 
 
 JOHN C. CALiiorv, of Soitth-C. trolind. "There wa* 
 .dso a son of South Carolina, still in the republic, then, un 
 doubtedly, the most influential memberof this House. With 
 i genius eminently metaphysical, he applied to politics his 
 habits of analysis, abstraction, and condensation, and thus 
 gave to tbc problems of government something of thaV gran 
 deur which the higher mathematics have borrowed from 
 astronomy. The wings of his mind were rapid, but cnpacious, 
 and there were times when light which flashed froi6 them as 
 *hcy passed, glanced like a mirror in the sun, only lo dazzle 
 
ft KEMA1NS POLITICAL. 
 
 the beholder. Engrossed with his subject -careless of hi* 
 words his loftiest flights of eloquence were sometimes fol 
 lowed by colloquial or provincial barbarisms. But, though 
 often incorrect, he was always fascinating. Language with 
 him was merely the scaffolding of thought employed to 
 raise a dome, which, like Angelo s, he suspended in the 
 heavens." 
 
 HENRY CLAV, of Kentucky. "It is equally impossible 
 to forget, or to omit, a gentleman from Kentucky, whom 
 party has since made the fruitful topic of unmeasured pane 
 gyric and detraction. Of sanguine temperament, and >mpetu- 
 ous character, his declamaticn was impassioned, his retorts 
 acrimonious. Deficient in refinement rather than in strength, 
 his style was less elegant and correct than animated and im 
 pressive. But it swept away your feeling? with it like a 
 mountain torrent, and the force of the stream left you little 
 leisure to remark upon its clearness. II is estimate of human 
 nature was, probably, not very high. It may he that his 
 past associations had not tended to exalt it. Unhappily, it is, 
 perhaps, more likely to have been lowered than raised by 
 his subsequent experience. Yet then, and even since, 
 except when that imprudence, so natural to genius, prevailed 
 over his better judgment, he had, generally, the good sense, 
 or good taste, to adopt a lofty tone of sentiment, whether he 
 spoke of measures or of men, of friend or adversary. On 
 many occasions he was noble and captivating. One, I :an 
 never forget. It was the fine burst of indignant eloquence 
 with which he replied to the taunting question "what have 
 we gained by the last war?" 
 
 DANIEL ^VEBSTER, of Massachusetts. "Nor may I 
 pass over in silence a representative from New-Hampshire, 
 who has almost obliterated all memory of that distinction, 
 by the superior fame he has attained as a Senator from Mas 
 sachusetts. Though then but in the bud of his political life, 
 and hardly conscious, perhaps, of his own extraordinary 
 powers, he gave promise of the greatness he has since achiev 
 ed. The same vigor of thought; the same force of expres 
 sion; the short sentences; the calm, cold, collected manner; 
 the air of solemn dignity, and deep sepulchral unimpassioned 
 voice; ah have been developed only, not changed, even to 
 the intense bitterness of his frigid irony. The piercing. 
 foidnessoC his sarcasms was indeed peculiar to him: thry 
 
REMAINS POLITICAL. v* 
 
 seemed lo be emanations from the spirit of icy ocean. 
 Nothing could be at once so novel and so powerful it was 
 frozen mercury becoming as caustic as red hot iron." 
 
 HARBOUR,GASTON,FORSYTH. "I might cnumcraleamong 
 the ornaments of that body a venerable patriot from Massa 
 chusetts, honored with the friendship, of Washington; con 
 spicuous gentlemen from Pennsylvania, Messrs. Sergeant and 
 Hopkinson; two eminent Virginians, Messrs. Harbour and 
 Shefly; a highly gifted son of North-Carolina, Mr. Gaston, 
 and a gentleman from Louisiana, strongly marked in his 
 character and in his phraseology, as his speeches and his let 
 ters from Paris will bear witness, Mr. Robertson. I might, 
 perhaps, and I ought to add a distinguished fellow-citi7.cn, 
 townsman and personal friend of my own, to whom nature has 
 been prodigal of all her bounties, and who for grace of man 
 ner, felicity of style, sweetness and flexibility of voice, well 
 chosen arguments, and courteous yet scornful retort, has left 
 behind him in this house no superior and ft-w equals. This 
 much must have been said by any but a false chronicler. 
 More I might have added with perfect truth. Hut I will 
 not be suspected of partiality; besides there would be arro 
 gance in supposing there is any one in this country to whom 
 he is not already advantageously known, save those who 
 have never heard and never will leafn 
 
 CODIFICATION OF THE COMMON LAW. 
 
 A late number of the Southern Review puts forth 
 an article upon the Codification of the Common Law, 
 evidently from the pen of the writer, whose essays 
 have contributed so essentially to give tone and char 
 acter to the work, but which does not exhibit the 
 close and cogent logic, which usually characterize!* 
 him.* At any rate, it has not impaired our previous 
 impressions in favor of a code* nor, as we conceive. 
 Weakened the reasons upon which they were founded. 
 
 What is one of the great boasts of the Common Law? 
 
 Hojh . 
 
U-i KF.MAI.SS I 
 
 That it i* unwritten that it strctcheth, ia the woixk 
 of my Lord Coke, \\hercunto the memory of man ex- 
 lendcth not" that it has been, handed down by imme 
 morial fruditioa, ami is involved in obscurity. Now 
 tradition is useful to unravel what is complex, illustrate 
 \\liat is obscure, or revive \\hat is obsolete, but it ne 
 cessarily implies uncertainty. Truth is immutable 
 and simple. justice is no sooner sought after than fount!. 
 If the rule he obvious, the application \vill be easy and 
 expeditious. Hut this is an abstract view, and of re 
 mote hearing. Can the ride bL* so simplified: We 
 believe it can. 
 
 NVe are disposed to believe, that all are willing to 
 substitute method for confusion clearness for obscuri 
 ty: and that when the advocates of reform urge an 
 universal acquaintance with the Law, and consequent 
 death of litigation, as the end of their labors, they have 
 awakened idle Lai s in the profession. We believe the 
 world will never become lawyers, and that lawsuits 
 u ill never cease, as long as property remains, about 
 \\hich to contend. No human sagacity can guard 
 against two constructions of the most perspicuous sta- 
 uite, and the whole mass of law, when reduced to a 
 co:le, would, in the words of Mr. Jciierson. from the 
 imperfection of language, and its incompetence to ex 
 press distinctly every shade of idea, become a subject 
 of dispute, until settled by repeated adjudications. 
 
 The advocates of reform appear to us, also, to have 
 Overshot their object, and injured their cause, when 
 they denounce the whole body of Common I^xw as a 
 system of absurdity, complicated technicals, and insidi 
 ous fraud, thus alarming the fears of the communit) 
 with horror of innovation through the charm of 
 words* and tearing oft* the venerable draper) which 
 sanctifies ancient institutions. Such unsparing anathe 
 mas even if true always recoil. Our intimacy with 
 the common law is but slight, yet our admiration of its 
 rules and maxims is sufficiently strong to create n desire 
 
B POLITICAL. 
 
 to sec i I free from unmeaning forms divcsk-d ofdif- 
 liiscncss and adapted tc the high degivc of improve 
 ment, which the nineteenth century is so r.ipidlv ilJVrt- 
 "mg. Hut the question ivcurs. i< it practicable is it 
 expedient? These are tlie only points really un-ler 
 discussion, for all app^r duly sensible of tnc di>or- 
 derly and imperfect state of our laws, an 1 the -modi 
 and measure of redress" form the eifliiv di!Vu ;ilt\ . 
 
 The practical maxim of modern philosophy is pro 
 gressive improvement (\t Ira! "vshat man lias done. 
 man may do again/ The Common L:i\v was onr< 
 written.* why may it not he so again? Hut as thi> 
 work \yas not. strictly speaking, a code, hut in some sori 
 an original, we will not insist upon it, hut pass to others 
 of unequivocal character, where success has hern 
 perfect. 
 
 The first code, of which we have information, is the 
 |a\v of tlu- twelve tabhs, which though d^Hcivnl and 
 incomplete in many respects, was of great and cxlen- 
 Mve utility. The second is that of Julius (V^r. hv 
 ( )nidius. The third, that called the "Perpetual IMict/ 
 under Snlv r.is Julian, comprising all the co Us com- 
 pl- te and incompl te, that preceded it. These wciv 
 followed hy the labors (not recognized in the courts) O f 
 Hermogenes and Papirius. The code of Theojosius 
 succeeded, on a nev plan, and prevailed rxtcn-ivcly in 
 l)oth divisions of the Empire. After the lapse- of seve 
 ral centuries, when the mass of enactments was im 
 mense, and the confusion almost inextricable, Justinian 
 undertook the office of cleansingthe Angia of the law. 
 Trehonian, aided by sixteen brother Jurisconsults, re 
 duced twtnt / Otu hundred treatises tr> fifty bonks. A 
 work of incredible time, toil, and difficulty, but which 
 paid for all the labor consumed, by ultimate and entire 
 success. After the completion of this great work. 
 need we despair of effecting a less extensive scheme, 
 with the infinitely superior array of talent, erudition. 
 
 Alfred s Dome Book Vide Cooper Jvtininn 
 
96 KKMAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 and philosophic jurisprudence, which Soutli-Carolina 
 can bring to the task? We will pass by the code of 
 Napoleon, with which he desired to be buried, so con 
 scious was he that when his wreaths of conquest had 
 faded, it would form an evergreen garland to his mem 
 ory. We will not dwell upon the code of Louisiana, 
 which distinguishes her penal statutes from those of 
 the rest of the Union. We omit all mention of the 
 Digest of Edward the Confessor, the Epitomes of San 
 Marino, the Code Frederique of Prussia, and other 
 compilations, which more or less resemble codes. We 
 adduce that, with which we are most familiar, which 
 is universally recognized which has been completely 
 successful and which appeal s to us to settle the ques 
 tion of practicability. 
 
 But the sceptic or the sciolist might still rejoin cui 
 bono? If disputes can never end, as long as there is 
 anything to dispute about, why, though it may be prac 
 ticable, should we have a code? We are ready with 
 our response. We answer, with Milton, "order is 
 Heaven s first law." A code would substitute harmony 
 for chaos regularity for confusion order for dis 
 order. 
 
 It will reduce the neccessary professional works to 
 one fourth their present bulk. 
 
 It will give to Law the elements, divisions, forms, 
 and arrangements of Science. 
 
 Principles will be established to guide future legis 
 lators, and prevent incongruous additions, which make 
 our legislative enactments resemble the patchwork of a 
 Harlequin * jacket. 
 
 An ancient tyrant, in the refinement of his cruelty, 
 had his laws written in so small a character, and hung 
 up so high, that the people could not read them. Do 
 we not improve upon Roman barbarity, when we re 
 fuse to make that, which is the rule of conduct to all, 
 intelligible to all? 
 
TILHATNS - POLITICAL. 97 
 
 Mr. Hammond, in his introductory remarks upon 
 the law of forgery, well observes: 
 
 "Thr advantage* of a consolidation nro,/r.v/, th.it it brings 
 under one point of viou- tint which no\v lies tfcnttrrcil over 
 Ihe face of many volumes; seroml/i/, it nscrrlnins tho rrnp- 
 rocal influence which a variety of statute*, each applicable to 
 the same subject, have upon each other, a knowledge which, 
 under the present state of things, it is n matter of the preat- 
 <>t difficulty, nay, often of impossibility, for the most com 
 prehensive mind to attain. Thirdly, ft detects and recon 
 ciles those contradictions, nnd inconsistencies, so constantly 
 observed when a numher of statute? have heen applied from 
 time to time to the same subject. Fourthly* by reducing 
 the law to a greater certainty, it diminishes litigation, and 
 by exhibiting a clear, distinct, and connected view of that 
 law, it enables us to observe, and observing to supply those 
 particulars in which it is deficient." 
 
 \Ve believe the accomplishment of this great work 
 will confer lasting reputation upon the Legislature that 
 shall achieve it: and we may pledge and predict the 
 gratitude of the people to the administration, under 
 which it is effectually recommended and brought about. 
 By three successive Chief Magistrates (Bennett* Wil 
 son and Manning-) it has been strenuously pressed; and 
 we trust the individual, who at present presides over 
 
 Governor Manning, in his Menage of 1823, hold* the following lan- 
 
 It i" believed that tho time H cither at hand, or that it ha already arrived, 
 when the advances of improving o :iely. and the .ic"nniu!t l wisdom and 
 knowledge of man will give a ri"it!<-<< call for such a dig-nt. rode, or what 
 ever ehe it may pl -n^e other* to denominate it, a* will brin* law* into -uch a 
 form, that contradiction*, fiction* and many unnecessary ami unintelligible 
 technicalities, may b tuperreded by rule* of wiitt-n re ion and plain rom- 
 nion *en*, that they may be morn eaily understood and be more happily 
 adapted, to the essentially raned condition of human society at tbe pre*eat 
 Hay. 
 
 "Many of lh laws now in force, as well in th country as in EnglaHd, ows 
 their birth to ages, when the human mind waa yet in the dark, and which 
 proceeding in their operation, with ucce*ive modification* through cini- 
 harbarov nge and through th light* of half-expanded reason, have :oroc 
 down to th pretent a^, with all their annaitablenew nnd incanibnmcen about 
 them, burying truth and desirable legnl certainty in darkness and doubt, and 
 entangling principle*, jnd the spirit of laws in eodle** intricacy. 
 
 "If thii book-making age continues lo^ to throw off on the world, ccnnt- 
 
 13 
 
!*H HLMAINS - POLITICAL. 
 
 the Commonweal tli, will not be insensible to its impor 
 lance. The French nation at this moment revere the 
 memory of Buona|iurte more, as the father of his im 
 mortal Code, than as the conqueror of Austerlitz and 
 Lodi: and he deserved it of them.* In claiming the 
 title of the modern Justinian, lie did not, like his pro 
 totype, issue a commission to his Jurists, and claim the 
 credit of their labors. He presided ut its formation 
 examined its provisions offered amendment! suggest 
 ed additions explained principles, and thoroughly 
 discussed the whole code. lie desired to be buried 
 with the manuscript in his baud, as the most enduring 
 monument of his fame. He knew that the chaplct on 
 the brow of the victor continues verdant, only while 
 refreshed with blood: that the ci\ic wreath ever out 
 lives the war-stained laurels of conquest.. 
 
 NEGRO SLAVERY. 
 
 The late disturbances among our colored population 
 in the two neighboring States, and the excited state of 
 public feeling in our own, ought to turn the earnest 
 attention of every Carolinian to our peculiar institutions, 
 and to the torrent of opinion, which, by misrepresenta 
 tion and ignorance, is setting with a* mighty current 
 against our proper interests. Whether imr northern 
 brethren v\ill continue to suflei- their misguided fana 
 tics to scatter their poison among us to stir up trea- 
 
 [en* multitude of volumes, ull human knowledge generally. a* well u* ill 
 l.u.uan law* particularly, will have uoca*arily, to be reduced more to their 
 
 Mace* 
 
 "All the element* of moral mid natural justice are to be fouud iu book, of 
 law; but they ore dftfetd through u thousand gloomy and unmanageable 
 \olumea. I hen- i u light but it i* hid iu darkuew." 
 
 [ That Napoleon Jaw* d hi* memorial* in French recollection and grati- 
 ude, rather for ibu great labor than for hi* and their military achievinUn-. 
 iiu> uot wiur quwtion; but that .urh is the cuse, us a^rrted *coi,inglv ftt 
 Hn u.\t, may well be doul t.-d. FD.] 
 
IU;MAINS POLITICAL. 
 
 MM*, ami vxeitc false hopes and expectations in the hi 
 therto tranquil bosoms of our scrviles wedo not know. 
 It is beyond tbc efficient interposition of Congress -ami 
 if they understood cither our feelings, or their own in 
 terest, they will themselves promptly and effectually 
 intcr|>o>p. Let a law he enacted making it felony, and 
 Mibjcct to the jurisdiction of the Courts of the State in 
 which the poison is disseminated against which the fire 
 brand is first levelled. The remedy, for ohvious reasons, 
 would he complete. nor can our northern brethren do 1 i?ss. 
 We demand it as a matter of right we demand it in 
 consideration of our peculiar institutions we demand 
 it for the security of our lives and property we de 
 mand it in the spirit of the Constitution. In vnin has 
 that instrument provided for the inviolability of pro 
 perty, if ours is to be perpetually depreciated nay 
 jeoparded l>y the insidious plots of these authorized 
 miscreants these legalized traitors. Hut on this point, 
 which is worthy of serious consideration, we will speak 
 more at lan- e hereafter. 
 
 We frar that the radical cause* of the evil of which 
 we complain, and of the misapprehension of our breth 
 ren at tnc North, is partly to he found in our own sen 
 sitiveness. We receive their objections with bitter 
 re vi lings, nor do we ever deign any ans.vcrs save the 
 most unqualified contempt and abhorrence. This 
 course augurs badly for us. It implies consciousness 
 of a weak cause, and an unwillingness to undergo scru 
 tiny. To the sickly, unmeaning, meddling interference. 
 of A few prostituted presses of the North, it is unavail 
 ing to respond. These holy fathers are bent upon a 
 pious cruwvde, and nothing but the strong arm of the 
 law can restrain their enthusiasm. But there is a class 
 of our countrymen, who honestly and consciously differ 
 from us, without inundating in with their jtremfadt, 
 and who, without claiming a supervisory jurisdiction 
 over our local institutions* yet deem our situation "anti- 
 Ilrpuhlioan uncalled for and disreputable, to a Na 
 
100 UEMA1SS POLITICAL. 
 
 tion professing to be free." Our cause can lose noth 
 ing l.y the most rigid scrutiny. With such, let us dis 
 passionately commune, and we think, we can make out 
 a sufficiently strong case in our favor to satisfy any. save 
 moon-struck theorists and girlish philanthropists. It is 
 difficult, however, to restrain our feelings of indignation, 
 when we read the insulting language of some of our 
 most enlightened adversaries in those very States, which 
 reaped all the benefits which accrued from the traffic 
 which entailed upon us the evil and now preach with 
 uplifted hands against the practice they were the first 
 to introduce. They have appropriated all the benefit 
 they could derive from their own slaves they have 
 cleared their forests their soil does not require them 
 becoming burthensome. they have released themselves 
 from motives of Intercut, and now pointing to the negro- 
 fri-cman of the North, tell us *to go and do likewise." 
 . Let us see what they hnw done. 
 
 The emancipated Negro of the nou-slaveholding 
 States, though equal by legal right, is borne down by 
 the weight of public opinion. At the South, the law 
 controls him be cherishes no idea of equality he 
 dors not expect what be cannot receive, and is" natu 
 rally content. At the North, the law in vain endea 
 vours to support him against popular prejudice, and 
 with all the galling consciousness of possessing rights. 
 vhieh society \\ill not acknowledge, he sinks into a 
 bondage doubly bitter, because illegal and unmerited. 
 We have personally witnessed some of the reckless dis 
 regard of lav, the contemptuous violence the un 
 equivocal oppression undergone by the Negro-freeman 
 of the North. His dwelling has been torn down his 
 field devastated his property destroyed- himself turn- 
 e,l out to the elements and the law, from uneonqucr- 
 W>12 prejudice, affords him no redress. And by whom? 
 Not by the "haughty aristocrat/ not by the -relent 
 less slave driver of the South" but by the very 
 men who taunt us with anti republicanism and cruel- 
 
KKMAINS - IMjl.H H VI . 1O1 
 
 ty -and \vlio so loudly proclaim their r</na/ity and 
 
 Hut the list of our revilers is not yet complete. A 
 late European journal reiterates the "stale stull that for 
 merly disgraced the pages of the Quarterly, and hids 
 us make "no more fair speeches in favor of liberty, 
 while a slave contaminates our soil/ We have no 
 idea of polluting our columns with an answer to the 
 reckless slanders of this scribbler: but avail our 
 selves of tbe opportunity of placing the question in 
 its proper light. As far as .the charge is confined to 
 our -country, we would enquire of this candid and 
 sagacious winter, whose soils are Jamaica and Harba- 
 does? Whose wants and luxury do they supply? Whose 
 is the island of Tobago, and for whom are its sugar 
 and rum destined?* Hut let us take up the gauntlet 
 thrown down let us meet the taunts of our revilers 
 let us strip them of their inock-patYietic, and exhibit 
 facts in their naked reality. "That slavery" (says he, 
 "in the usual rhodomontadc of the Quarterly) "should 
 exist among men, who profess to know the value of 
 liberty, and to understand its principles, is the consum 
 mation of hypocrisy and guilt. How stands the ac- 
 
 M pon this point the New Monthly Mnga/.ine holds the following liberal and 
 ^nlightened language: 
 
 "The worm thing nrgrd against America L* her negro slavery a theme, no 
 doubt, for the general philanthropist, hut not for the Kneli-hman ns a ground 
 of unqualified national vanity. Slaves rannot breathe in Kngland! Yes, but 
 they can breathe in the Uiivii$h West Indie*, nnd breathe heavier groan* (it 
 is raid) than in America. And we profit by this slavery, and we pay taxes to 
 maintain it. The negro, however, is free the moment he reaches our shore*! 
 And could he reach thorn at ht* pleasure, we might then boat that we took 
 the chains from las limit*, and bound them round hi* heart. Hut he cannot 
 rome over to u*. An English soldier would help to kill him, if he assorted 
 In* liberty; and the mam power that coerces him w English. Now, the plea 
 which oar Colonist* allege for po^essing ulaves is necessity, and we either 
 admit or reject thin plea. If we absolve the West Indian, we cannot con 
 demn the American. If we denounce them both as tyrants, it w clear that, of 
 4he two, we are mo*t nearly and practically concerned with oar fellow ut>- 
 jerts of the West Indie*. If we can jotify or palliate their flarery, let as 
 make allowance for that of America, and if we cannot justify it, then. 
 before we reach thn emancipation of slav e* to another empire, we thonM 
 tint 
 
 , , 
 
 before we preach thn emancipation of slav e* to another empire, we 
 tint mike efforts to nrromplith that PittuwMpatien in orow." 
 
U EM AIM! 
 
 fount between this country and Great Britain? Did 
 she not introduce the evil among us, when \ve were 
 colonies, and subject to her control, against our vehe 
 ment and repeated remonstrances? Did we not enact 
 laws for their manumission, which she refused to sanc 
 tion? Does she not now encourage their bondage in 
 the West Indies? Shall she reproach us fora burthen 
 which she entailed upon us, and of which we cannot 
 rid ourselves? Can the seduced be brought to the 
 level of the seducer? But the writer says, that "with 
 out equal rights there can be no liberty." Docs Great 
 Britain lots any nation allow to children, to women, 
 or to idiots, equal rights of legislation? And is not the 
 negro as incapable of exercising the functions of Gov 
 ernment, as the child or the female? How, then, docs 
 his exclusion, the result of his mental imbecility, de 
 stroy our claim to liberty? What would become of the 
 boasted freedom of Greece and Rome, to which man 
 kind have so long paid adoration? Docs it not if 
 equal privileges be the test crumble into dust? But. 
 snys the writer, in the height of his enthusiasm, no 
 sooner docs a slave set his foot upon British soil," &c. 
 NVc would enquire of this Apostle of British Liberty, 
 whether it was not decided, as late as (i \V. k M. (1 Ld. 
 Raymond, 137) that property in a negro might be 
 lioldcn, and action of trover brought because ucgrueit 
 are hurt/tens? Docs he, also, forget th-j well-known 
 case of the boy Somerset, in which Lord Mansfield 
 decided //!/ tkc contract for the su/e of u sfare is 
 Xood in fc ff&fuJP" But we need not recur to old 
 enormities. Let Great Britain look nearer home. 
 Until within a few months, she held in ignominious bond 
 age, deprived of social and religious rites not men 
 inferior to her in intellect not the ignorant African 
 incapable of rational liberty not. men alien by habit, 
 degrading associations and different complexion but 
 a generous people, abounding in all the qualities that 
 lt human nature the recollections that endear, 
 
UEMA1NS rULITIC A!.. 
 
 And the services that plead irresistibly to a nation s 
 gratitude. It is exceeding the hounds of our enquiry 
 to recur to former severities, arid rake up the ashes of 
 atrocities, which are now known, only to he ahhorred. 
 The slave treatment, which a few years since was 
 esteemed eminently lenient, would now be regarded in 
 a great degree rigorous: one, who is familiar with the 
 past, and observant of the present, cannot fail in noticing 
 the evident amelioration of their condition. Let us 
 impartiably compare him with the serf of the Russian 
 nobleman, or the laborious manufacturer of England. 
 The former is sold with the land he cultivates, and 
 though in an equal degree with the American slave, 
 deprived of civil rights. Is compelled at the nod of his 
 superior, to leave his home and family and plunge into 
 all the horrors of war: and in case of refusal there is 
 no reprieve. The manufacturer, when competition is 
 excessive, and swarms of half-starved wretches render 
 labor comparatively valueless, toils fifteen hours daily 
 for a pittance that deserves not the name of livelihood. 
 The debates in Parliament speak volumes OH this point, 
 If such be the fact, and that it is, we appeal to the 
 speeches of Brougham, Courtcnay and Peel, the equality 
 of the negro as regards the comforts of life, can hardly 
 he doubted. He is free, as well from besetting present, 
 nsthe harassing forbod ings of, future want: nor does he, 
 as the English la!>orcr, (to use the admission of the 
 Quarterly on another occasion) -toil with the prospect 
 of pauperism, and the work -house, the last stage of 
 woe on his passage to the grave." 
 
 Hut we leave this point as of minor importance, to 
 meet this question upon its broad basis: as a question 
 coming, not from a people more deeply implicated than 
 ourselves, but from the God of Nature who endowed 
 us with- equal rights. No one more than ourselves 
 condemns slavery in the abstract of all trades that 
 have disgraced Human nature, this was the worst. In 
 others, however infamous, there wen* traits of something 
 
IlRMAIXir HOU 1 ICAL. 
 
 like humanity, but in this, there waa-h total absence of 
 them. It was a scene of uniform, unadulterated, unso 
 phisticated wickedness. But whilst we condemn the 
 ill-starred policy whirh hurthcned us with slavery, let 
 us not he misund* rMood. It is a common, we- might 
 almost say, universal, fault, with moralists, to consider 
 actions only in tluir general effects, without reference 
 to particular cases. They lay down a general princi 
 ple, and making a sweeping anathema, include in the 
 scop? of malediction, equally, the wilfully depraved, 
 and thos j whom impracticability ties down to its suller- 
 ancc. None but the visionary theorist can fail in ob- 
 serving,that this is equally opno.icd to human nature, and 
 the merest common sense. Justice cannot be obtained 
 immediately, but must await the award of time. Great 
 reformations have never been effected in a day, but 
 have been gradually brought about by the revolution 
 nfages. Men on this subject declaim in vain. High 
 sounding epithets and polished phrases may charm tin- 
 car, but cannot convince the understanding. Thai 
 system, which best provides for the safety of the ma 
 jority, can never be considered unjust, if the term be 
 not a new abstraction, disconnected with human affairs. 
 Men always require some preparation for their future 
 situation, and must be gradually moulded to their des 
 tiny. Else the novelty of their new state will intro 
 duce anarchy and confusion. The slaves througli 
 long disnctiide to equal participation of rights, \\ilh 
 the white population* would be unfitted to enjoy, and 
 use with moderation the blessings of liberty. If turned 
 loose they would over-run the country an idle, en 
 cumbering mass like the wretched Lazaroni of Italy 
 incapable of obtaining subsistence, and unwilling to 
 embrace their ancient servitude. To expel them from 
 the U. States, would be literally to devote them to all 
 the tortures of a lingering death by famine. A manu 
 mitted slave (despite the opinion and fervent aspiration 
 of visionary and heated moralists) can never become 
 
KEUAINK POLITICAL. 105 
 
 l lie recognised etjual of his quondam wercrjn. You 
 may suspend over his head the shield of liberty you may 
 tear off hi* manacles and hail him by the "epithet 
 Freeman;" but ("can the leoparl change its *JH>U, 
 or the Ethiopian hi* *kin? v ) you cannot make him a 
 white man. The memory of his former situation in 
 late degraded state hi* Afgitatiflg appearance, and 
 grovelling habits hi* ignorance, and the indelible 
 stamp of divine wrath scaled ii|x>n his forehead- --cre 
 ate an impassable Iwrrier to hi* amalgamation with the 
 white*. The space \vc have already occupied, pre 
 cludes the intro luction of the remarks we inu-ndcd to 
 liave made ujxm the Colonization Society, the propo 
 sition recently laid before Congress, and UK- Resolution.* 
 of the Virginia Legislature. Meanwhile, we would, 
 in conclusion, enquire what, afl r all, is the crime of 
 the South? That we live in a Ian J th.tt cannot I>e cul 
 tivated by white la borers- --that our fathers dis Covered 
 this and were supplied up to the act of prohibition with 
 Africans by British and Northern slave trader*-- -that 
 they bequeathed to us an evil of which we can:tot rid 
 oucselvev- and that all we can do, is to perform t*r- 
 duties of the station in which our lot is cast, in the Iwsl 
 
 manner we can. 
 
 TURKISH CIVILIZATION. 
 
 The Sublime Pone apjKan to be deviating from the 
 uniform policy of every preceding 4 h?ad of the fait!i- 
 ful," ? and seems determined to produce a wi%t?>titial 
 and thorotigh revolution in the modes of acting ana 
 thinking of hi* subjects by introducing Eurr>(>ean ira- 
 provements of a civil, a* well as mi iury character. 
 Two newspapers have bc^n e*tP v lUhed at Constantino 
 ple, one in the Turkish the other in the French Ian 
 His error appear* to be that of our "whole 
 
106 UEMAINH POLITICAL. 
 
 system" men- a hot- house experiment of farcing upon 
 a people habiU of living and employment for which 
 they are not yet prepared. His course should be to 
 aim at a steady, but silent approximation to force no 
 thing to excite no dread of innovation to arouse no 
 long cherished prejudices to tamj>er with no rooted 
 prepossessions lest he should excite a tempest he may 
 not be able to weather. He has already raised u 
 storm among the Mufti but has not ytt ^reaped the 
 whirlwind/ being a favorite with his subjects, and hav 
 ing acquired, by his prompt and energetic measure:), an 
 influence over their minds, and an independence of 
 their prejudices, never before enjoyed by any Soldaii. 
 The bowstring perhaps would have been the reward of 
 less determined measures, and in playing for so high a 
 stake as his Crown natural and artificial Mahmoud 
 probably ivlies much upon his knowledge of the tem 
 perament of his singular people. If, however, he is 
 not immolated upon the altar of his patriotic temerity, 
 it will singularly belie the Turkish character and prac 
 tice, and form an exception to the fate of all anterior 
 reformers of barbarous or half civilized people. 
 
MORAL ESSAYS. 
 
 MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 To understand the features which distinguish man as 
 a rational being, and consequently, the laws hy which 
 his nature is governed, is indispensable in forming cor 
 rect ideas of the tendency and guidance of his actions. 
 
 If the en;l and aim of education, he (as it has heeu 
 defined.) to bring all our faculties to the greatest per 
 fection of which they arc susceptible to investigate the 
 powers we are called upon to improve, is of prelimina 
 ry and momentous importance. Among the moderns 
 (especially at a later date, and even in the present en 
 lightened age,) the science of metaphysics appears to 
 me, to have experienced a neglect, unmerited and in 
 jurious to the welfare of society. To it, has been er 
 roneously attributed the thraldom and debasement of 
 the human mind, the contraction of our powers, and 
 the gloomy hormrsof a confined and moody religion.* 
 
 Every philosophical writer has hut too sadly expe 
 rienced the truth, that where one will understand and 
 appreciate his labors, mnny will despise his efforts, 
 more pervert his principles, ami thousands, incapable 
 of understanding, will misrepresent his reasoning.! 
 
 *Or, as mrne mon* ^xj iriomi have anred u- the ntudv of the mind N the 
 rhief promoter of infidvlitt ! 
 
 V Tiuth, (ay 1-ockrj cnrceever jet carried it hy rote any where at it 
 fir>t appearance; new opinion* are alway* n?perlpd, and are u*tn!ly oppord 
 without an) farther rfa^on, lut becauw they are not already common." Th- 
 conclusion of t Yn parr.^mph is no brantifal that \ve cannot fortwar tranicribiHg 
 it, trtoujh not tmmcfitatrlv applicable to the point hi hand. "Hat truth (con- 
 tiae* th uriter) lik^ pold, is not the Kw *o for being newly bronght out of 
 i*ie tn me. It i triol and examinatioQ intun give it ptv-*, and not any antk|u* 
 ." Sic. 
 
108 HEM AIMS MORAL. 
 
 But of the numerous body of those who sneer at the 
 word "philosophy" and overrun the world with what 
 they absurdly term 44 practical principles," many, I am 
 fully persuaded, would, on the slightest investigation, 
 retract their anathema, and readily admit that know 
 ledge of self, is especially worthy the attention of the 
 politician and moralist/* The chief source of error to 
 man, is the hasty admission of plausible principles; and 
 one, of which the prevention is easy and evident; the 
 removal difficult and obscure. 
 
 "If a perplexed reasoner, (says Dnimmond Acad. 
 Ques. Intr.) puzzle himself and his audience, we a ri 
 al ways sure to hear his snhtility reproved or lamented; 
 and he, upon his part, seldom* fails to ascribe the con 
 fusion of his ideas to the abstruse nature of all specula 
 tive doctrines. If a pert rhetorician g?ts entangled in 
 his OHM sophistries he is ever ready to accuse him 
 self of having too much of that very logic which he 
 wants/ 
 
 It is thus that the noUest and purest of knowledge- 
 is termed subtle and deceiving usvless and mischie 
 vous. That the (tanut -snf the learned on these points 
 are crowded with unnecessary prolixity, And in a great 
 degree, concerning terms, I am willing to admit; and 1 
 have often (in the few hours I have spent ujoi the 
 piges of those disputants) had occasion to regret, that a 
 lew perspicuous and authenticated definitions had ne 
 ver been agree J upon as the basis of their investigation.- 
 
 Merely .pwulaiiv.. philowphiral principle, h.ve wldom had nny sen*. 
 bleetWtupoutru. oomluct of educated men, vet they MAY do much h-rm, u, 
 police. U hen. for m-r.nrc, they art- promised in times of trouble and e*- 
 c.iement and re preached to the men in a popnlar and p auaible style, a. in 
 h, fir* trench I evolul,ou-ihey ,hook nil the MlriJg of wcielV to thrir 
 
 en 1 Th T f V ^ ^^^ i " d " dl | -tf ka.te he p,rvertnl. ,fh, 
 ^mp,r heh.id-,f hn naturnl propernities he base and <rovelling-a th.H>rv ol 
 No vVv Art T / *>******> ny ld to .he wo.st crimel" tf. ft.. 
 4-ru u * Jcrem V Kcntham and the CtiUtariun. 
 
 I hough it may render u ohuoxiou* to the charge of pedantry (in iu strict 
 ador,, lU a. mea-ju,, ) W e will o^er io support of our opinion/ hebr^f an" 
 ^F^^!!r****> m m i Seucc., "PhUoipiu. uoa i. verb,-- 
 
IH .MAINS MORAL. 
 
 But disregarding the prolixity of the dull, the cavils 
 ? r l ^? ignonmU and the presumption of the sciolist, it 
 is of infinitely greater importance to depend upon our 
 own perceptions uiid experience to narrowly scan the 
 infant mind the first dawn of intellect to examine 
 the gradual development of the ideas and passions 
 to trace the influence of association the expansion of 
 the chcrtcter; and he w ho with untiring perseverance. 
 \\ith patient miiv.itciu ss, studies (without heal, without 
 prejudice to support) the evident workings of nature 
 which hurst forth in every breast, better deserves the 
 name -philosopher" and the gratitude of posterity, than 
 the most subtile metaphysician who in his closet plans 
 paradoxes to bewil Jcr and sophistry to deceive, and con 
 tends for victory and not for truth. But, leaving this 
 merited opprobrium to those who have involved in ob 
 scurity, knowledge that should be known by all who 
 have clouded \ \ mist, w hat should shine as the mid-day 
 luminary: the study of ourselves and the genuine phi 
 losophy of the soul is worthy of the keenest and most at- 
 t -ntive consideration, If we turn to the pages of those 
 disputants, who have filled the world with their dis 
 cussions, so fur from acquiring the first principles we 
 desire, we shall lose ourselves in metaphysical subtili- 
 ties, and in place of perspicuous and practical know 
 ledge shall be overwhelmed by uncertainty, hypothesis 
 and conjecture. But have we no power in ourselves to 
 solve our difliculties? Have ue no power by percep 
 tion, examination and strict attention to what passes 
 within our view, to dispel our doubts, and bring our 
 discussions to an issue? Fortunately, my own opinions 
 01 this head are confirmed by illustrious intellects, and 
 I gladly avail myself of superior argument. We take 
 it for granted, (says the venerable Reid, whom we 
 cite from memory.) that by attentive reflection, a man 
 may gain clear and certain knowledge of the operations 
 of his own mind. The action of men are effects; their 
 sentiments, their passions and their affections are the 
 
HO UKUAINS MOHAI . 
 
 causes. But from the opinions of men, also may tvc 
 gain light into the human mind, for they are the effects 
 of their intellectual jMnvers. Even the prejudices and 
 errors of mankind must have some similar source; and 
 their elucidation \vill no less tend to augment this spe 
 cies of knowledge. (Essays, as quoted hy Miss Hamil 
 ton on Education.) 
 
 The science of mental philosophy in its broadest 
 sense, may be distributed into a three-fold division. 1st. 
 Nature and attributes of our spiritual being. 2<*. Our 
 relation to each other. And. ;Ul. Nature and attri 
 butes of the Creator. t With this view of our subject we 
 shall proceed to state* some of the advantages to be de 
 rived f i-oni its pursuit: and which readily suggest them 
 selves under th: heads above specified. The pleasure 
 we experience in the examination of our internal na 
 ture possesses one distinctive superiority over the gra 
 tification arising from the study of other sciences. In 
 any situation of life however obscure in circumstances, 
 however otherwise unfavorable we always possess the 
 requisites for successful researches into our o-.vn minds. 
 No costly apparatus no tedious preparation is requi 
 red; the object of our contemplation is ever before 
 us the means of investigation are ever in our power. 
 One of the chief advantages resulting from his science 
 appears to me to be the cultivation of the powers which 
 it necessarily produces, and the enquiring philosophic 
 spirit it engenders. The comprehensive instruction 
 given in its pursuit is that our observations of mental 
 phenomena be careful and exact, our discrimination ac 
 curate, and our generalization particularly cautious and 
 deliberate. As a discipline of the r< atoning powers it 
 may fairly claim superiority over every other branch 
 of knowledge. In this study ultimate success must de 
 pend upon the degree of assiduity and ucuten-ss with 
 which we search into what passes in our own minds 
 and logical closeness of argument is indispensable to en 
 sure an unerring result to our speculations. This science 
 
ItKMAINS MORAL. Ill 
 
 is of incalculable Importance in our investigations, by 
 enabling us to determine the extent of our capacity, 
 the causes which operate in perverting it from truth, 
 and, consequently, the means by which we may com 
 bat our propensity to error. * Knowledge of our power* 
 is of incalculable utility in determining the pursuits 
 proper to be undertaken in which success may be ex 
 pected, and those to be avoided in which success is 
 hopeless. "When we know our own strength, (says 
 Locke,) we shall the better know what to undertake 
 with hopes of success, and when we have well survey 
 ed the powers of our own minds, and made some esti 
 mate what we may expect from them, we shall not be 
 inclined either to sit still, and not set our thoughts on 
 work at all. in despair of knowing any thing: or on tin- 
 other side, question every thing, and disclaim all 
 knowledge, because some thingsare not to be understood. 
 It is of great use to know the length of our line, 
 though we cannot with it fathom all the depths of the 
 ocean/ (Locke, Intro.) Knowledge of the limits of 
 human intellect has been supposed to induce doubts 
 upon every subject even those dearest to our future 
 hopes: in short it has been asserted to be the monster 
 of universal skepticism. Just the contrary. So far 
 from favoring infidelity, knowledge of ourselves is tin- 
 most eflicacious antidote against it, by dispersing the 
 mists of ignorance and humbling our natural arrogance. 
 Philosophy teaches not only to doubt as the first step 
 to improvement, but also to believe, as the only way 
 to accumulate knowledge, on the same principles of 
 evidence. There are few propensities which produce 
 more misery to our fellow men, and entail more re 
 pentance upon ourselves, than the spirit of intolerance 
 with which we regard human error. I know no better 
 remedy for this vice than a correct knowledge of our 
 selves, our frailties, and helplessness. There are two 
 kinds of hypocrisy one which deceives the world, the 
 other which blinds us to our failing. The one has io 
 
112 REMAINS MORAl . 
 
 an especial degree occupied the efforts of the philoso 
 pher the other, I conceive, equally, (if not more) 
 worthy his attention. Without an intimate acquaint 
 ance, with the human character, with the passions 
 which agitate it, and the different degrees of influence 
 they exercise over its workings, ahortive w ill he every 
 effort to amuse, soften, inUrest, or exalt it which 
 are the chief objects of the department of Iklles Lct- 
 tres. <*A11 polite learning * (says Hume) fc -arc 
 nothing but pictures of human life in. various attitudes 
 and situations, and inspire us with different sentiments, 
 of praise or blame, admiration or ridicule, according 
 to the qualities of the objects they set before us. An 
 artist must be better qualified to succeed in this under 
 taking, who, besides a delicate taste and quick appre 
 hension, possesses an accurate knowledge of the inter 
 nal fabric, the opcr.itions of the Understanding, and the 
 various species of sentiment which discriminate nature 
 and vice." 
 
 The entire art (Science) of Criticism depends ujnm 
 a knowledge of human nature, and the various ways in 
 which it is affected. \Ve judge of the sublime images 
 of poetry, by the power they possess in exhibiting, ter 
 rifying or amazing the mind. We decide ujwn the 
 perspicuous, and impressive arrangement of argument, 
 by the degree of conviction which the different links 
 of proof proJuce in us as they are severally developed. 
 And we estimate the power of the orator in proportion, 
 as he influences the will by artfully appealing to our 
 selfish feelings, or selecting proper circumstances and 
 opportunity to enlist in his cause our more generous 
 feelings. 
 
 But laying aside the advantages, resulting from (his 
 study, (which we have faintly sketched) the mind itself 
 is eminently worthy our investigation. "Since it is 
 the understanding, (says Locke,) which sets man above 
 the rest of sensible beings, and gives him all the ad 
 vantages and dominion, which he has over them, it is 
 
REMAINS MORAL. \\f\ 
 
 certainly even for its nobleness, worth our labor to in 
 quire into. B. I. Ch. 1. 
 
 Shall we explore all creation, and leave the mind un- 
 exara.ned? Shall we penetrate every recess of earth, 
 and remain in ignorance of the very faculties that exalt us 
 above the brute." When we look abroad through the 
 field of nature, we perceive other animals quickly ar 
 rive at their utmost perfection their pleasures are 
 fe^they live a contracted and ephemeral existence 
 and their buns is forgotten as the path of an arrow 
 through the yielding air. But man was born for nobler 
 purposes; his stature is erect and turned to heaven 
 us face is irradiated with the stamp of the Creator, and 
 Ins mmd bears the indelible impress of the immortal 
 signet. Such is his celestial formation, that, from his 
 o\vn heart alone can his happiness proceed. The mo 
 mentary gratification of the sensualist, the boasted feli 
 city of the voluptuary, and the wild delirium of passion 
 die on the altar so lately erected. Repletion brings 
 satiety- the pleasures of sense gradually lose their vi 
 vidness and yield to the influence of "reason and of 
 time. But the longings of the mind are vast and im 
 mortal: its course is ever onward, untircd, insatiate. 
 he operations of the body are limited in power, and 
 duration, but to those of the mind, no where has nature 
 pronounced the malediction "thus far shalt thou ad 
 vance and no farther/ It is the intellectual eye that 
 is never satisfied with seeing, the intellectual ear that i* 
 never satisfied with hearing. 
 
 A* subservient to the great cause of education, the 
 science of mind appears to me particularly to demand 
 our attention. The elementary powers of the human 
 mind are sensation, memory and association; the first 
 enables us to receive, the second to retain, the last to 
 exert and arrange ideas. To understand the extension 
 and power of these faculties is of the first importance; 
 that we may correct them when deficient, and in an es- 
 pecial manner attend to the developement of each* 
 
 li 
 
REMAINS MOHAL. 
 
 "An infant, (says Miss Edgeworth) when examining 
 an object with its little hands and lips, is as usefully 
 employed as the fondest parent could desire. " Oracle. 
 Than this period of life, there IK perhaps none more 
 important, certainly, none more neglected. The whole 
 train of mental operation is connected hy a most sensi 
 tive chain, and the vibration of one link materially ef 
 fects the entire machine. If the first perceptions, 
 which pave the way for future investigation, are exer 
 cised and confirmed, we ensure an acuteness in the 
 subsequent developement of the faculties, which is truly 
 astonishing. But if they arc checked, or Buffered to 
 labor unassisted, a great deal must be acquired with 
 difficulty in after time, which by proper attention might 
 have (lowed (as it were) spontaneously. Though it is 
 a melancholy fact, (proved by the experience of almost 
 every one,) that great intellect is not always attended 
 with Corresponding morality, yet, we assert, that though 
 morality and religion may animate the most illiterate, 
 those nicer feelings of rectitude that election which 
 decides after impartial investigation, is only to be ac 
 quired by the great expansion of the mind. Instruc 
 tion in the languages and sciences is of comparatively 
 little importance if we are inattentive to the habits ac 
 quired: for, if the affections arc vitiated, we shall mere 
 ly give arms to mad men, who will not fail to applv 
 them to the most disgraceful purposes. Moral and 
 intellectual education should go hand in hand, and mu 
 tually regulate, restrain and encourage, the natural af 
 fections; and direct, invigorate and enlighten the in 
 tellectual powers. It isa wise and beneficent regulation 
 ofprojk iilenceahat felicity is made to depend rather upon 
 the direction of our dispositions, than the improvement 
 of the mind: but (no one will be inclined to deny) the 
 proper discipline of the intellect, greatly contributes to 
 our happiness, both in our private situation, and our 
 relation to the mass of mankind. The pleasures of ima 
 gination (says the acute Hartley) are the next remote 
 
TIKMA1NS- UOItAL. IKl 
 
 from sensible ones, and have in their proper place and 
 degree, a great cflicacy in improving and perfecting 
 our natures. They are to men in the early part of their 
 adult age, what playthings are to children: they teach 
 them a love for regularity, exactness, truth, simplicity; 
 they lead them to the knowledge of many important 
 truths, relating to themselves, the external world, aud 
 its author. They habituate to invent and reason by 
 analogy^ and induction: and when the social, moral and 
 religious n flections begin to be generated in man. we 
 may make a much greater progress towards the perfec 
 tion of our natures by having a due stock, and no more 
 than a due stock, of knowledge in natural and artificial 
 things, of a relish for natural and artificial beauty." 
 But laying aside the facilities which education affords 
 to virtue, in enabling us to retain, recall, to examine 
 and appreciate the truths of benevolence: laying 
 aside (in that view) the evident and material connec 
 tion of the heart and the head fa topic that has occu 
 pied some of the best pages of Hartley, of Hamilton and 
 f Edgeworth.) we shall proceed to examine in what 
 degree the advancement of morals contributes to the 
 advancement of learning. <Some people (says Miss 
 Kdgeworth) have a notion, that the understanding and 
 the heart, are not to be cultivated at the same time: but 
 the very reverse of this is perhaps true: neither can 
 they be brought to any perfection, unless they are cul 
 tivated together." Prac. Educa. Ch. 10. 
 
 If the passions war against reason, v*in is every ef 
 fort to direct the latter: but if they converge to one 
 |>oint, the result will be of the happiest character. To 
 i nlivt them, the disposition on the side of the understan 
 ding should be an object of primary importance. "A 
 H-nse of our ignorance, (says Addison) is the first step 
 to knowledge/ The youthful mind is generally elated 
 with a trifling success; and, I believe, there arc few 
 who cannot recollect some period during the earlv 
 opening of the mind, when their opinion of thtir JK>W- 
 
H6 REMAINS MORAL. 
 
 ers was of a very exalted nature. When tke mind U 
 reduced to a humility of its capacity, it is brought to 
 a tone unshackled by prejudice or arrogance, and fitted 
 to receive, retain and appropriate the lessons of truth. 
 Vanity is perhaps the most universal quality in the 
 youthful mind. 
 
 Love of praise is a feature which runs through the 
 whole species; and ft should be an especial care to in 
 fuse into untainted youth, an early bent of this propen 
 sity towards objects of undying interest. As it is un 
 doubtedly the excess of nobler qualities and ambition, 
 which, >\hen running into a proper channel, constitute* 
 no small portion of our happiness; to give it a general 
 bins, is of infinitely greater importance than mankind 
 generally imagine. The influence t3f vanity, however 
 useful, wltci* properly restrained, should be watched 
 with attention. Diffidence is the most effectual pro- 
 motive of mental improvement, and, under vanity, 
 there is always a considerable share. But if praise 
 becomes necessary to exertion, stimulus must be heaped 
 upon stimulus, and at last failing, habit will preclude 
 all efforts without increased incentive. Tlte growth 
 of moral and mental enjoyments are connected by an 
 intimate link. Every right disposition should be 
 cherished (if for no other reason) as contributing 
 essentially to the advancement of knowledge; and every 
 sally of vice repressed at its first appearance. Every 
 religious and reverential feeling will materially tend to 
 cxak our conceptions, stimulate our efforts and enlight 
 en our minds: and the more the heart is cultivated and 
 the principles improved, the mon- will our intellect 
 dilate, and our ideas expand. 
 
 That the minds of men arc as different as their per 
 sons that there is hi one an inborn inclination of char 
 acter, which education in vain strives to implant in 
 another, we are as fully persuaded as moral certainty 
 can render us. The opinion that our nature possesses 
 no innate diversity, but i* moulded iuto any form by 
 
REMAINS MOItAt. 117 
 
 (he jxnver of instruction, can, I think, be incontc^tably 
 proved to be erroneous. We undoubtedly see in 
 many men a peculiar bent of mind in which they dis 
 play newel s of a superior order. Such arc the acci 
 dents (says Dr. Johnson, commenting upon the effect, 
 which Cowley states the perusal of Spencer s "Fairy 
 Queen v had upon his mind at an early age in making 
 him (in his own words) irretrievably a Poet, v ) which, 
 sometimes forgotten and sometimes remembered, pro 
 duce the particular designation of mind, and propen 
 sity for some science or employment, which is com 
 monly called genius. The true genius is a mind of 
 large general powers," etc, -Vide, Life of Cowley. 
 
 We have ever thought the species of argumentation, 
 termed by logicians "argumentum ad verecundiam* 
 available only by the uncandid disputant, atd have not, 
 accordingly, hesitated to dissent from the authority 
 cited above. We would inquire if Cowley had never 
 perused books upon mathematics, moral philosophy, or 
 metaphysics, and why a "mind of large general powers" 
 did not seize upon one of those sciences as its field of 
 action? Or, if hi* eager grasp of poetry (to the neglect 
 of numerous distinct employments which readily sug 
 gested themselves) comports with the idea of acciden 
 tal adoption. 
 
 The growth of a predominant passion, is often 
 slow, and its origin obscure; but in length of time by a 
 constant reiteration of impulse and bias, in consequence 
 of some peculiar association of ideas incessantly obtru 
 ded upon the mind, and exciting pleasure or pain, it 
 becomes habitual and subsides into a settled tempera 
 ment, and seemingly innate disposition of mind. " 
 
 We cheerfully admit every point in the above ex 
 tract, but dissent in toto to its application in the pre^ 
 sent instance. We will simply ask the question, if 
 two individuals could be placed in precisely the same 
 situation from the moment of birth; if they could be 
 to the same train of events if their minds 
 
118 UfcMAlXS MOUM.. 
 
 vould receive the same impressions in short, if the 
 scries of circumstances to which tlicy were subject., 
 a ntl their education were in every respect similar: 
 can we for a moment suppose that these individuals, 
 upon arriving at manhood, would exhibit no diversity 
 in the affections or intellect? I can never convince 
 myself that they would not. 
 
 But though education can never bestow those nicer 
 feelings and that peculiar bent and power of mind 
 which is denominated Genius, it can nevertheless call 
 out and increase its energies, and by exercise enliven 
 and strengthen the natural powers. It can render 
 that aptitude more fixed and vigorous, and direct its 
 vigor aright, which might otherwise, unaided, have 
 wasted its strength in ineffectual efforts. We have 
 adverted to the necessity of inducing the mind to 
 exertion by the easy steps of attraction; but we con 
 demn its continuance as calculated to check the vigor 
 ous growth of the intellect and implant a supineness 
 which \\ill require never-ending stimuli. The ascent 
 of Parnassus, the road to knowledge, the **iter ad astiti" 
 is unquestionably of laborious mastery: but that stem 
 spirit which kindles at new difficulties, and resolves 
 their domination, must be acquired. To struggle 
 through fii-st hardships, some inducement is necessary, 
 unconnected with the love of learning, but, unless the 
 keenness of intellectual hunger be inculcated, the mind 
 will shrink from greater labors, where the gifts of the 
 pursuit are the only reward. The gradual, but never- 
 ending developcment of the intellect can alone insure 
 proportionate increase; and the mind which intuitively 
 perceives truths, to master which the more obtuse 
 require considerable reflection, and which hurries on, 
 ever on the road to new associations, should as undoubt 
 edly be clucked in its rapid but imperfect career, as 
 the less vivacious should be excited to exertion. The 
 intellect may be expanded to an inconceivable extent, 
 and 1 am fully persuaded, such is its elastic power, 
 
KF.MAIXS MORAL. 11^ 
 
 that the most ordinary mind, by continual and well- 
 directed efforts can rise to what is generally considered 
 the "nc pins ultra" of talent and success. When I 
 regard the splvndor of ancient literature: when I turn 
 to their orators, so pre-eminent in precision, in argu 
 ment, and the overwhelming tide of eloquence; to 
 their poets whose harmony, perspicuity and grandeur 
 the modern world has in vain toiled to rival; to their 
 philosopher* and historians a powerful host! the re- 
 flection irresistibly intrudes itself, vtiat their great per 
 severance is the principal source of their immeasurable 
 superiority. 
 
 THE MORAL SENSE.* 
 
 The note given below, a.id which has seduced \[< 
 into a long and rather discursive train of meditation. 
 is borrowed from an article in one of the late numbers 
 of the North American Review, devoted to what is 
 styled a "Defence of Poetry." The Essay of which 
 we speak would seem to have been intended; by the 
 writer, to answer the cavils of those, who have ohjec- 
 
 *"But utill the main current of education run* in the wide nnd not well de 
 fined channel of immediate ind practical utility. The main point w, how to 
 make the greatest progress in WWMIj pro*periy, how to advance mo.-t rapid 
 ly in the career of gain. Tht, porhap*, H nece*.-arily the erne to n certain 
 extent in a country, where every man i* taught to rely upon hw own fortune" 
 and estate. Hat it ought not to he exclu.mcly HO. We oujht not, in the pur 
 suit of wealth and wordly honor, to forget thoe embellishment* of the mind 
 nnd the heart, which sweeten nocml intercourse and improve the condition of 
 society. And yet, in the language of Dr. Palcj . "many of u are brought op 
 with thi world let In-fore us and nothing elw. Whatever promotes thr> 
 world s prosperity i praised; whatever hurt* and ofortrurt* thu world * pros 
 perity is hlanifd ; and there all prai<*> and censure end. We see mankind about 
 on in motion and action, bat all the*n motion* and action* directed to wordly 
 object*. We bear their conversation but it t all the mme way. And ton v> 
 what we *a and hoar from the first. The views, which are continually pla 
 ced before oar eyes, regard tht* life alone and its interest*. Can it then be 
 wondered at, that an early wordly-miodedneas it bred IB our hoArtJ* ao strong, M 
 i Aut oat heavenly mindednesB entirely !" And this, though not in so many 
 wtxtfe, yt in fact and in its practical teodoncy , is the popular doctrine of utility. 
 
120 mr.MAixs MORAL. 
 
 ted to Poetry, that it gives wrong views, and excites 
 false expectations of life peoples the mind with sha 
 dow* and illusions ami builds up imagination on the 
 ruins of wisdom. It also bears upon the old selfish sys 
 tem of Hobbs and Rochefaucault, that all the desires 
 of the human mind are reducible to self-love, or desire 
 of private happiness the aggregate forming public 
 well being and that from this source which forms 
 the basis and essential feature of the new school of utili 
 tarians spring all the actions of moral agents Upon 
 the former bearing of the extract we will hereafter 
 submit some strictures, and meanwhile, will confine 
 ourselves to moral tendency. 
 
 The main pillar of the system (Le due de Rochefau- 
 cault) has, in his various works, so wrapped it up in 
 confusion* sophistry and a complex tissue of argument 
 as in a great degree to baflle investigation: for to op 
 pose his many and minute illustrations would be a task 
 
 "Now, under correction be it said, we are much led astray by thin word 
 utility. There H hardly a word in our language who** meaning w no vague, 
 nitd no often rm*undtTMtood and misapplied. We too often limit it* applica 
 tion to thoMt acquisition* and pursuit*, which are of immediate and visible pro- 
 tit to oureelve and tlu- community ; regarding as comparatively or utterly use- 
 teiM to many other*, which, though more remote in their effect* and more inn 
 perreptiMe in thnr o|>ri aiion . are, notwithstanding, higher in their aim, wider 
 in their inHucmc, more certain in their result*, and more intimately connected 
 with the common weal. \\ are too nit to tlii/.U that nothing can be useful, 
 but what w done with a new*, at noonday, and at the corner* of the street*; a 
 if action and utility were synonymous, aud it were not ax u-*el*v* to act with 
 out thinking, a-* k * to think without acting. But the truth is, the word utility 
 ha* a wider signification than thw. It embraces in it* proper definition what 
 ever contributes to our happiness; and thus include* many of those art" and 
 science*, many of those secret studies and solitary avocation*, which are gen 
 erally regarded either a* useless, or as absolutely injurious to nociety. Not ho 
 alono docs service to the State, whose wisdom guides her councils at home, 
 nor he whose voice asserts her dignity abroad. A thousand little nils, spring- 
 Ing up in the retired walks oflife, go to swell the ru.-hing tide of national glory 
 and prosperity; and whoever iu the solitude of his chamber, and by even a 
 single effort of hi- mind, has added to the intellectual pre eminence of his 
 country, has not lived in vain, nor to himself alone. Does not the pen of the 
 kistorian perpetuate the fame of the hero and the statesman ? Does not their 
 nuniM live in the song of the bard? Do not the pencil and the chisel touch 
 the soul while they delight ths ey? Does not the npirit of the patriot and the 
 sage, looking from the painted canvass, or eloquent from the marble lip, hlr our 
 htarta with veneration for all that is great in intellect, aud godlike m virtue*" 
 
REMAINS M011A1.. 121 
 
 i)f inconceivable time, toil and difficulty. We shall 
 merely advert to the general theory, against which 
 there can he offered but little argument, though our 
 knowledge of what passes in our own mind, leaves no 
 room for hesitation. They ascribe to us motives, 
 which enter not an honest heart. Men are virtuous 
 by an involuntary impulse, and an idea of ultimate ad 
 vantage enters not their imagination. We need, in re 
 futation of so degrading a doctrine, merely to apiK-al to 
 our own feelings; and I am assured, every one possesses 
 in his own breast delightful refutation of its plausible 
 sophistry. I appeal to the experience? and imjuire, if, 
 in the holy duties of filial affection the offices of friend 
 ship, or the instantaneous impulse of pity, such unfeel 
 ing calculations of the plus minus of benefit to self, has 
 any place in our thoughts?* Whence arises the prin 
 ciple of sv lf denial exhibited in the infant mind? In 
 vain we refer to reason, nnd the prospect of good 
 consequences. The contracted views of childhood can 
 see no advantage beyond the present. In vain habit is 
 called to our aid; an action flowing from succession, 
 can never account for the first of the series. Failing 
 to determine these as its sources, we are forced to at 
 tribute it to a peculiar faculty and the inscrutable ways 
 oi Providence. We find the following quoted, (Hres* 
 Encyclo. Art. Philosophy) from Godwin s Political Jus 
 tice: "It is not our business in the direction of our 
 benevolent exertion, to consider the relation in which 
 the individual stands to us; but in that in which he 
 stands in society. Nor is he my parent, relative, 
 friend, or benefactor, but as he is a worthy or worthless 
 member of society." The above resembles the licen- 
 
 *Thw system which philosophically coiMidered is on worthy attention, and 
 which we have been induced to touch upon only from lh danger incident 
 to it* adoption, ha* been so ably refuted in all it* bearing* by Dr. llochor*on 
 ("Hlofltration* of the Moral Sense,") that we are ilmot anhamed to advance 
 any thing of oar own, bat might well content oaraelve* with etlrecU from bw 
 treatise, aware, that, independent of our own con*ciou*nw to determine our 
 conviction, we would imperceptibly borrow ill our notions from bi 
 
 Ifl 
 
REMAINS MORAL. 
 
 tious system of the splenetic Mandeville (whom we re 
 ceive at the hands of others, having no further acquain 
 tance with the tenets) who demonstrates all virtue "the 
 political offspring which flattery hegets upon pride. * 
 Such sweeping denunciations against human nature, 
 founded on a few scattered instances, and extended in 
 to a system, and applied to the whole species, though 
 they may mislead the superficial observer, are so readi 
 ly refuted by th<! highest appeal to conscience and our 
 own emotions, that we deem it unnecessary to enter in 
 to any consideration of it. further than to recommend, 
 as ancflicicnt solution of these apparent discrepancies, 
 a candid appeal to the unerring monitor of the human 
 heart. 
 
 In morals there must he some rule adapted to capa 
 cities of the smallest calibre; while in the hair-drawn 
 diseussions of casuists, it is difficult, even to be well- 
 informed, to divest the subject of the subtilty, and the 
 perplexing and extraneous dross with which they en 
 velope it. Accordance to reason is emphatically elec 
 tion, decision or choice: and bow either of these can 
 (contrary to human propensity) become rules of con- 
 duet, without a sorrow which dissuades from, and a joy 
 which prompts, their continual exercise, 1 confess my 
 self unable to determine. We must ultimately, for our 
 criterion of moral approbation, refer to the constitu 
 tion of our moral nature. 
 
 Why am I virtuous in pin-suing a certain line of 
 conduct? Because (say the advocates for utility) it is 
 consistent with reason and the fitness of things. 
 
 Why am I obliged to obey the fitness of things or 
 pay respect to the dictate of reason? Because (they 
 rejoin) it is proper, useful, etc. But no impartial 
 observer can fail in perceiving that as the final rule 
 of action, the true arid unavoidable answer is "I am 
 prompted to do so by my nature, and the inscrutable 
 provisions of the Creator." We may shuttle off the 
 question, we may retire btep by step, and evade it, 
 
REMAINS MORAL. 
 
 vrith a semblance of reasoning, but retreat as we may, it 
 recurs with accelerated force, nor can we dismiss it by 
 any worse tautology. It is futile to inquire bow we 
 are thus constituted by nature: every unsophisticated 
 ami not irretrievably debased mind is conscious of this 
 feeling: the reason we refer, as beyond our contracted 
 vision, to the great author of things, who has made us 
 moral beings in his bounteous distribution of the source* 
 of happiness. 
 
 But our opponents may further rejoice, that, though, 
 thus far they yield, they still attribute the feeling 
 (which every heart unsteeled by sophistry and unseared 
 by vice must unhesitatingly admit) to other and dis 
 tinct causes. 
 
 To this we reply that the sensation is peculiar it 
 is one which all must distingiiir.fi as distinct from 
 the feelings of pleasure or pain excited by other causes. 
 
 But on ibis point we will be silent, as we can place 
 elucidation in abler hands. 
 
 Is this emotion "the same with taste whirh is a per 
 ception of the accordance of parts of a complex object, 
 fend of the feelings of pleasure arising from the com 
 bined t- fleet? Is there nothing wort: indicated by it 
 than the calm satisfaction which arises from the con 
 sideration of speculative truth?" Does tin* delight 
 tthich arises in my mind at the recollection of a fellow 
 creature, who has been raised by my aid from want 
 and misery to competence and comfort, excite no feel 
 ings more vivid, than what I experienced, when I first 
 learned that the angles at the base of an isosceles trian 
 gle are equal? Or do I, in such a case, when the feel 
 ings of self-respect are most ardent in my mind, reflect 
 how important it is to society to have an useful, \veU 
 fed, athletic citizen, in the place of one who was be* 
 fore poor, wretched and worthless? 
 
 Or, is the precious incense which the heavenly 
 monitor applies 10 my heart* to be brought for a mo 
 ment into a vile, decjading comparison with the astow- 
 
124 KEMAINS MUUAL. 
 
 ishing power of a water-mill or a steam engine. If 
 then, m ither taste nor reason, nor the perceptions of 
 utility he sufficient to account for feelings of inovnl ap 
 probation, it remains that it must he considered as a 
 pi CtiliaV emotion, and an ultimate fact in human na 
 ture. lecture on the Moral Sense. 
 
 That the moral emotion is excited on some occasions 
 more than others, has heen advanced to prove the fu 
 tility of our system: the language of a perspicuous 
 writer, (lirown, vol. iii. page 22.) furnishes us with a 
 satisfactory refutation. "In the first place, it must he 
 admitted, that there are moments in which the mind is 
 wholly incajKible of perceiving moral differences that 
 is to say, in which the emotions that constitute the 
 feeling of these moral differences do not arise. Such 
 arc all the inovementsof a very potent passion. When 
 the impetuosity of tin: passion is abated, indeed, we 
 perceive that we have done what we now look upon 
 with honor, hut when our passions were most violent, 
 \ve were truly hliuded hv it, or at least saw what it 
 pcrmutciiiis to sec. The moral emotion has not arisen, 
 because the whole soul was occupied by a different 
 species of. feeling. The moral distinctions, however, 
 or general tendency of actions to excite this emotion, 
 arc not OH this account lc&* certain: or we must say> 
 that the truths of arithmetic, and all other truths art- 
 uncertain, since the mind, in a state of passion, would 
 be equally incapable of distinguishing these. He who 
 has lived for years in the hope of revenge, and who has 
 at length laid his foe at his feet, may, indeed, while he 
 pulls out the dagger from the heart that is quivering 
 beneath it, be incapable of feeling the crime w Inch he 
 has committed: hut would he at that moment be abler 
 to tell the square of four or cube of two? All his mind, 
 at that moment, is one wild state of agitation, which 
 allows nothing to be felt but the agitation itself/ It 
 has been urged against our s\Vem, that there are no 
 duties which have been universally esteemed obliga- 
 
RKMAINS MORAL. 123 
 
 ton", and the violation of which has not at some period 
 been sanctioned by general consent. In support of 
 their assertion, they adduce the example of savage 
 nations who in many cases destroy their parents in their 
 old age. Admitting this fact we reply that it is readily 
 accounted for by their different views of utility, and 
 by no means supposes an absence of the moral seiuse. 
 In savage countries, the majority of the inhabitants 
 depending for subsistence upon the precarious produce 
 of the chase, and the hunter s life requiring long and 
 perilous excursions, they humanely cut off the aged 
 and infirm, who are unable to undergo the fatigue, and 
 if left behind must perish a prey to hunger, or to the 
 beasts of the forest. To show how much nations are 
 attached to their customs, Herodotus relates, that Da 
 rius, the Persian, having assembled the Greeks who 
 were under his command, demanded of them what 
 money they would require to eat the dead bodies of 
 their parents as the Indians did; and it being answered, 
 that it was not possible they cor.ld ever abandon them 
 selves to so great an inhumanity: the King, in the pre 
 sence of the same Greeks, demanded of some Indians, 
 what money they would tike to burn the dead bodies 
 of their parents, as the Greeks did. The Indians, ex 
 pressing the utmost horror, entreated the King to 
 impose upon them any thing less dreadful and unjust: 
 to a similar purport would the Hottentot reply to one 
 who expostulated with him upon the peculiar opinions 
 of his nation.* 
 
 *"Cat your ryes" (say* Roonscnu,) "orer nil the nation* of the world, ami 
 all the hist 01 k^ of nation*: amid > many inhuman and aboard Kupcrttitions 
 amid that prodigious diversity of manner* and characters you will find even 
 where the *ame distinctions of moral good and evil. The j^an^m of the 
 ancient world produced indeed abominable god*, who, <Tn earth, would have 
 been shunned or punished M monsters, and who offered as a picture of *uprem* 
 happinew, only crime* to commit and paasion* to satiate. Bat rice armed 
 with this acred authority descended in vain from the eternal abode; she found 
 mthe heart* *f men a moral instinct to repel her/ 
 
 "The holy roice of nature, stronger than that of the god*, made ttnelf beard, 
 and respected, and obeyed on earth, and peemed to banish M it were to \b* 
 of beaten, guilt and the fihy." Rc*n<av. 
 
126 ttLMAIN* 1 OLinCAl*. 
 
 Hut* independent of this apparent discrepancy 
 uncivilized tribes, the same position has hecn urged in 
 all states of society, and the morality of a deviation 
 from truth, has heen particularly insisted upon. As 
 this point has been made of consequence to the grand 
 hearing of the question, we will briefly consider it. 
 Veracity is the conformity of our words and actions to 
 what we profess and believe to be true. The benefit* 
 accruing to society from the observance of this virtue, 
 and the evils succeeding its violation are so extensive, 
 that it is by no means surprising that a high rank has 
 been assigned to it in the scale of morality. That the 
 practice of lying is an utter dereliction of moral duty- 
 that it is cowardice to man and impiety to heaven 
 that it destroys confidence and undermines society 
 that its path is marked with desolation, tearing asunder 
 friendship and benevolence those sacred links that 
 bind mankind together, are truths as evident as the 
 mid-day sun. They are universally understood uni 
 versally conceded. Thus far our opponents and our 
 selves in every respect coincide. Hut they tell us that 
 every rule admits of exceptions they condemn it as a 
 practice, but insist that some deviations are indispensa 
 ble. Why, they might as well tell us that they condemn 
 murder, but can see no objection to occasional assassi 
 nation! That robbery excites indignation, but that 
 some robbers are necessary to the well-being uf society! 
 The weakness of such reasoning is so glaring that 
 demonstration is hardly requisite. Hut, lest it be said 
 that we decide without investigation, we will coiKidci 4 
 one moment these cxcepted cases to which our adver 
 saries so earnestly cling. We will explore these loop 
 holes of retreat, and examine if one of them be legal 
 places of refuge. The exceptions arc not many and 
 may be quickly despatched. 
 
 Can I tell a lie for my amusement? Xo inconvenience 
 "results all are aware of the deception no one is im 
 posed on. Hut, on the contrary, if I am permitted on 
 
REMAINS MO II A I,. 1^7 
 
 any trifling occasions is it not ingrafted in the nature 
 of nun that the propensity will increase, until like. 
 Virgil s goddess of fame, (rin M/itc acquirit Hindu.** etc.) 
 it embraces every thing small or momentous human 
 or divine? It is superfluous to dwell upon the other 
 instances commonly advocated. The plain and direct 
 rule (says that inflexible moralist Dr. Johnson) is to do 
 our duty, and leave the consequences to him who con 
 trols them, hut by no means to step aside from the plain 
 path of right, in s. arch of what may be, in our frail es 
 timation, expedient. It will he admitted, equally by 
 those who believe, and those who discredit amoral sus 
 ceptibility, that there is a propensity to utter truth, 
 when no motive to the contrary interferes, and to be 
 lieve what is told us, when we have no strong ground 
 for suspicion. Every one is conscious of an effort to 
 smother nature in telling a falsehood, and (as few boast 
 titter exemption from this vice) we all can appreciate 
 the difficulty to be undergone in its perpetration. 
 
 We are far from denying that the Moral Sense may 
 by neglect become clamorous, and by habitual disregard 
 and a continued course of abandoned villainy, be even 
 totally eradicated. 
 
 We believe the fact. We arc forced unwillingly to 
 admit, that such is the depravity of human nature, that 
 men may so smother this feeling, this invaluable boon, 
 which heaven intended as our guide, through the la 
 byrinths of scepticism and vice, that its wanting voice 
 may be hushed, and resign the obdurate breast to the 
 unbounded riot of sensuality. 
 
 **If the voice of conscience from within, and the call 
 of religion from above, if the acclamations of all whose 
 opinion in society is worth consulting, if the thought 
 of happiness to be acquired be dear to you, if the ex 
 pectation of painful and inevitable retribution both here 
 and hereafter be dreadful to you defer not for a day, 
 not an hour, your resolution to be virtuous." Essay on 
 Moral Sense. "Man (Brown, vol. iii. p. 139) is tnily 
 
IIKMA1NH MOttAL. 
 
 man, as he yields to this divine influence. He cannot 
 resist it, but by flying as it were from his own bosom, 
 and laying aside the general feeling of humanity, by 
 which very act he must have already inflicted on him 
 self the severest of punishments, even though he were 
 to avoid whatever is usually accounted punishment." 
 
 In conclusion, we have examined the system of Mo 
 rals on the other side of the question, if not fully, at least 
 as fur as we have gone, impartially. If we have Mista 
 ken their reasoning, given too little weight to their ar 
 guments, or misrepresented their doctrines, we can only 
 plead in our defence, that we can see with no other or 
 gans than our own; and with a sincere readiness to be 
 enlightened, we say to our opponents, 4 si quid noviste 
 rectius istis Candidus imperti; si non his utere meam;" 
 here though we must aflirm, that after an unbiassed 
 consideration, our conviction of the truth of our sys 
 tem remains yet unshaken, and "nisi machiuis validiori- 
 hus impulsa, in trtcrnum durabit." 
 
 Such are our opinions on this subject, on which we 
 have thought long and intensely such is the result of 
 our calm and impartial examination. Such do we be 
 lieve to be the only true conclusion, which is calcula 
 ted to reconcile human naiure to itself, and which, we 
 trust, will be acceded to by all, who carefully examine 
 the structure of their own minds. The voice of nature 
 is our only sure guide. And, it is that, which, distinct 
 from the tottering, unnatural and incompatible deduc 
 tions of sophistry, is calculated to correct, enlarge and 
 exalt our ideas of the Deity, and which constitutes tin 
 only certain basis of belief. 
 
 "Unerring Nature, still divinely bright, 
 * One pure, unchanged and universal light." 
 
ItKMAlSS MOHAL. 129 
 
 ON THE IMAGINATION. 
 
 -"Indistinct. 
 
 In vulgar bosoms and unnoticed lie, 
 * These stores of secret wealth. Hut some there are 
 Conscious of N;iture and the rule, which man 
 O er Nature holds; some, who within themselves 
 Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance 
 And momentary passion, can at will 
 Call up these fair exemplars scan the secret laws 
 Which hind them to each other, a:ul convey 
 Hy si-jus, or sounds, or colors, to the sense, 
 Their latent charms." AKENMHE. 
 
 The human mind, is not unlike the law of gravity 
 it is forever operative and active. It rests by action, 
 and would seem to realize that much desired engine, 
 the ideal of material attributes, the faci.Itv of perpetual 
 motion. It is an insatiate appetite* which enlargvs 
 41 ml acquires new vigour from its repasts. It is forever 
 on the search, and wandering in pursuit of new con- 
 quests, and seeming to despise the very means which 
 it has employed for their attainment. These are some 
 of its characteristics: hut there are yet others. When 
 we look abroad into the fields and forests of Nature, we 
 perceive other animals quickly arrive at their utmost 
 perfection: their pleasures are few they live a con- 
 tracU d and ephemeral existence, and thfir being is 
 forgotten, even as the path of an arrow, through the 
 yielding air. But man was born for far nobler purpo 
 ses, his stature is erect, an 3 turned to heaven,* his 
 face is irradiated wth the stamp of the Creator, and his 
 mind bears the indelible impress of th* immortal signet. 
 Such is his celestial formation, that from his own heart 
 alone can his happiness proceed. The momentary gra 
 tification of the sensualist, the boasted felicity of the 
 
 *Prona com wp*rtnt animatia 
 
 On Homini nl>lime dedit, cerium*]: taeri 
 
 IT 
 
13O UEMAIXS MORAfl. 
 
 voluptuary, and the wild delirium of passion, die on 
 the altar so lately erected; reflection hrinirs satiety: 
 the pleasures of sense gradually lose their vividness, and 
 yield to the influence of reason und of time. But the 
 longings of the mind are vii and immortal; it* 
 course is ever progressive, nii ircd, insatiate. The 
 operations of the body are limited in power and dura 
 tion, but in thos- ot lhe mind, no where l:as nature pro 
 nounced the decree, which is, indeed, a malediction, 
 thus far shall thoti advance, and no farther." It is the 
 intellectual ear that is never satisfied with hearing. 
 The happiness of man has been the gr. iU object of his 
 Creator; he has engrafted in him a portion of his own 
 nature, and b*stovvid on hiiii faculties eap;ille of idc- 
 funte expansion. The unbounded Theatre ofj\\;!irr 
 is b. !" * him: the air, the earth, the sky, sprtnd illiini- 
 t i L treasures before him, and invite lis attention. If 
 we glance at the earliest a ires of society, we shall find, 
 that man, by nature indcp nK nt. exercising licentious 
 liberty, prone ttnl r.i!\ lo protect liisown, but to en- 
 cronrh I:]M.M that of others, was hound in the social 
 cni".jMi:t of mutual dependence, by the fiiNt exireise of 
 knowledge; and that only is the tie, which ki iis so 
 ciety together, and prevents it from foiling into its ori 
 ginal chaos. As the mind expands, the manners and 
 moruls improve. Religious awe is strengthened, and 
 firmness and consistency of character established and 
 invigorated. The blandishments of vice resign their 
 power the rancour of intolerance is softened, the uni 
 versal might of prejudice disarmed, and the mind re 
 duced to a serenity and tone of patient reflection, cnii- 
 hently calculated to harmoni/e its powers and disperse 
 the lingering shadows of error. 
 
 To trace a mighty river to its source, has ever been 
 considered a sublime and interesting employment. To 
 ascend the narrowing .stream from its mouth, whence it 
 pours its united power into the unfathomable ocean, to 
 the spot, where it bubbles in insignificance, and scarce- 
 
111. MAINS MOKAI,. 131 
 
 ly attracts attention, is a work of noble and salutary in 
 terest. Infinitely greater is the t;isk. to niatvh against 
 the current of civilization, to trace knowledge in her 
 progress, and explore the first dawn of her benign prc- 
 iloininanrc. In the infancy of society, the wild animal 
 howled over the vast wildernesses of nature, and the 
 solitary forest was trodden only by the savage beast or 
 the more merciless crutniha). Forced by the stern call 
 of necessity, man s first aim was to sustain existence, 
 ami the spontaneous offspring of the earth and the prc- 
 cario i^ product of the chase called forth all his efiorts. 
 ClKiKicd d \vn by his passions, his aims all centered in 
 one givitt locus sensual gratification. Knowing no ar- 
 ncnt but arms, jjowcr was his only rule of right, and 
 \\ith some few of the nobler feelings of our noturc, he 
 possessed all the vices of unrestrained, uneducated bar 
 barism. 
 
 Hut obeying the impulse of the mind, which is ever 
 progressive, he spurned his former ignorance, and 
 eagerly embraced the r;ifts of agriculture, who now 
 proffered her assistance. The lurking thicket and the 
 war-clad plain, were resigned for the field and the 
 vineyard and the uncertain encampment for the per 
 manent domicile. The bar an:l the battle-axe were 
 converted into the harrow and plough-share, and the 
 peaceful oxen usurped the place- and pageantry of the 
 glittering war-horse. The arts soon began to engraft 
 themselves upon the expanding intellect, an:l the mul 
 tifarious branches of collateral science, urged on the 
 general emancipation and development of mind. 
 
 That the minds of men are as different as their per 
 sons: that there is in one an inborn inclination of cha 
 racter, which education in vain strives to implant in 
 another, we are as fully persuaded as moral certainty 
 can render us. The opinion, that our nat ire j>ossesses 
 no innate diversitv, but is moulded into any form by the 
 ]>ower of instruction can. we think, be incontcstably 
 proven to be erroneous. We undoubtedly sec in many 
 
132 KKMAIXS MORAL. 
 
 men a peculiar bent of mind, in which they display 
 power of a superior order. Such are the accident* 
 (says Dr. Johnson, commenting upon the effect which, 
 Cowley states the perusal of Spencer s IViry Queene * 
 had upon his mind at an early age, in making him in 
 his own language, ^irretrievably a poet *) which, some 
 times forgotten and sometimes remembered, produce 
 the particular designation of mind and propensity for 
 some science or employment, which is commonly call 
 ed genius. The tn/e genius is a mind of large gvmral 
 poucrs, etc.* We have ever thought the species of 
 argumentation, termed by logicians, ^argwnvntnm ait 
 Vi-rvrnndiam" available only to the uncandid disputant, 
 and have not, accordingly, hesitated to dissent from the 
 high authority above. We would enquire if Cowley 
 had never perused hooks upon mathematics moral 
 philosophy, or metaphysics and why a "mind of large 
 ftntftu powers,* did not seize upon one of these 
 sciences, as its field of fiction? Or, if his eager grasp 
 of poetry, (to the neglect and exclusion of numerous 
 distinct employments, \\hich readily suggested them 
 selves) comports with the idea of accident::! adoption? 
 The growth of a predominant passion is often slow and 
 its origin obscure: hut iu length of time by a constant 
 reiteration of impulse and bias, in consequence of some 
 peculiar association of ideas incessantly obtruded upon 
 the mind, and exciting pleasure or pain, it becomes ha 
 bitual and subsides into a settled temperament and 
 seemingly innate disposition of mind/ We cheerfully 
 admit . very point in the above extract, but dissent, 
 in toto, to its application in the present instance. We 
 will simply ask the question, if two individuals could 
 be placed in precisely the same situations from the mo 
 ment of birth if they could be exposed to the same 
 train of events, if their minds could receive the same 
 impression in short, if the series of circumstances to 
 which they are subject, and their education in the most 
 
 Lifts of Cowk-v. 
 
HF.MAINS MOKA1.. }M 
 
 extensive sense of the term could be in every rcs|>ect 
 similar: can we for a moment suppose, that these indi 
 viduals, upon arriving at manhood, would exhibit no 
 diversity in the affections or intellect? We can never 
 persuade ourselves that they would not. Phifasoftlu/ 
 has shown in the works of the Creator, a dissimilarity 
 which attracts at once our wonder ami admiration. 
 In the subordinate class of inanimate being, there can 
 be found no two objects, which in every respect coin 
 cide: and in the human mind the same divci-sity is vi 
 sible. There are some, who have been more indulged 
 by nature than others; who have received that dan 
 gerous gift of genius whose minds are alive to the 
 slightest indignity as an indelible stain whose souls 
 are never tranquil, but always either in a state of rap 
 ture or supreme misery who are at one time adored 
 for their discoveries. at another, despised for their er 
 rors: who now mount with almost super-human energy 
 to some hitherto unreached eminence, and then sink in 
 the sulleuness of despair who find life a scene of mise 
 ry, because their more sensitive frames cannot bear it* 
 bufletingS. Who should they be (as most often hap 
 pens) of a poetical temperament, would fain retire 
 from the busy haunts of men to some desolate shore: 
 there to view nature in her loftiest mood: to gaze at 
 the pointed crag towering aloft to Heaven: to see the 
 Eagle soaring in all the pride of majesty: to listen to 
 the screaming sea gull and the shrill moan of the bittern. 
 Then, when the evening shades advance, to admire the 
 lengthening shadows of the mountains, and view their 
 giant forms sink in the surrounding darkness. Then 
 to sit and gaze, with all the rapture of refined imagina 
 tion, on the pale moon, ruling the lesser lights and se 
 lect some bright star as the guardian of his life. To 
 watch the waters to listen to the beating of the 
 surge, and view the white, sparkling foam on its 
 top:- -to see the tempest arise to hear the winds 
 suddenly free from their caves, howling over the 
 
134 K KM A INS MO I! At.. 
 
 vast expanse: to watch the glare of the vivid light- 
 ! and listen to the loud artillery of Heaven: to 
 view the elements in their grandeur and the Creator 
 in his might: who tired of the world, its mazes, its 
 deceits and its troubles, would resign it for the dreari 
 est spot on the face of the wide globe. Such n re some 
 of<he feelings, which elnracteri/c genius, when united 
 with a mind, yet untainted with vice, or \\hosc enthu 
 siasm has not yet hetn chilled hy the too uncertain 
 lights of fortune. Hut hi> dream is hut as the sunshine 
 of an April day. and the blasts of misfortune uss-ul him. 
 with a poignancy which King doubly felt, is doubly 
 hard to be borne. The opposite of this diameter 
 (one confirmed by the most superficial experience) to 
 \\hoiu natuiv has been less lavisli. tb:>ugh he has not 
 his brilliancy, still possesses his warmth. He may not 
 ownlhat delicacy of ta^te. hut then misfortunes a fleet 
 hi MI less. He may not enjoy that fire and animation, 
 but his vigor is unimpaired and constantly increasing. 
 Uis fancy may not he as brilliant, but he has unyielding 
 fortitude, stern industry, and indefatigable exertion. 
 He may not rise to such a height, but he is more per 
 manent. He may not as often surpass expectation, but 
 he scldomiT falls below it. He may not enjoy those 
 feelings of rapture but he is destitute of the calm 
 which succeeds them. His light may not be as da/.- 
 zli ig but it is more invigorating. His discoveries 
 may not be as brilliant, but in tin* even tenor of his lift-, 
 he dilluses as he feels, a wholesome degree of moderate 
 joy around him. 
 
 Of the sources of man s deterioration or improvc- 
 , ment, the imagin-ition is a faculty peculiarly capable of 
 bestowing on him infinite pleasure, or of provoking in 
 him infinite misery. 
 
 It can exalt him to the greatest felicity of which he 
 is susceptible, and lower him to the meanest degrada 
 tion, to which his nature is liable. When properly 
 restrained and directed, decorating every scene with 
 
RKMA1XS MO HAL. 133 
 
 verdure ami strewing luxuriant flowers over the bar- 
 ivii wiWcmcss of nature: \\hui indulged to excess, 
 plunging into melancholy, phrcny.y, aiul di^cMiietude. 
 It is this faculty,* \\hioh. unchecked by n fkction. 
 produces so many mental alienations an;l disorders, ma 
 king weak brains, when powerfully impress- d. conceive 
 t! at their bodies ar;.- metamorphosed into v;,roi,s ani 
 mals, that they are possessed by lemons, that the y are 
 under the infernal dominion of >%itchcra fly etc. Two of 
 the sorest maladies, to which the imagination is subject, 
 are the opposite i! sorters of fickleness and <kspr,n.U iicy. 
 The former ind ic .-s a recklessness and contempt of 
 others, which, if indulged in. infallibly superinduce a 
 vacuity of mind and pursuit* and consequent tendency 
 to error. Mfy vagnnt fancy spurns the restrains of 
 sober order, and finally, unl"v* the pruning knife of 
 reason !>c applied. ir. lnd< s in t!)c sco|ic nf it^ mockery 
 and contempt every tiling sacred and* divine. 
 
 Hut if the imagination possessed with levity, ^ thus 
 obnoxious to error and disagreeable in its effect; mm h 
 greater is the perversion and suffering of that mind, 
 which melancholy corrodes. 
 
 The harrdssing dreams of superstition, the enerva 
 ting assaults of reverse, and the p!mii7,y of religious 
 enthusiasm, all unitedly attack the ir victim, and the 
 bustling scenes of active life, the buffeUingp of the 
 world, and the cravings of necessity alone, can cft cct 
 his cure. It is an incontestible fact that our life, our 
 occupation, our eminence, in short our whole felicity* 
 essentially depends upon the direction of our thoughts. 
 As far therefore, as our thoughts are in our power, 
 (and that they are so in a great measure, cannot be 
 doubted,) it is of the utmost importance that they flow 
 in a course subservient to valuable purposes. The 
 human mind is a vast, ample theatre, upon which every 
 thing in human life is acted, i^ood or bad, great or tri 
 fling, laudable or base."f When the mind is resigned 
 
 Vdluire V. Philosophical Dictionary. tReid T*nj IV. 
 
l.Jli U\tAlNS MGHAL. 
 
 to the influence of fancy, it loses command of its owrt 
 associations its efforts tend to the same region of re 
 flection, and in time these creations acquire all the 
 power of settled habits. Distempered ravings arc taken 
 for reality, and the mind, weakened hy want of the 
 manly pursuits of life, fancies itself in situations dia 
 metrically opposite to truth, and v, and ITS into wilder 
 extravagancies, than those of tlu astronomer,* who 
 imagined himself the regulator of the seasons. A par 
 ticular train of thought engrosses the mind to the ex* 
 elusion of others, and it recurs to the delightful picture, 
 (the oHspriiig of hope,) or the gloomy foreboding (the 
 c licet of morbid sensibility,) whenever the stern voice 
 of truth reminds of earth, its realities and cares. What 
 was at first indulged in as a recreation, becomes a set 
 tled habit, and the dreams of a disordered fancy (in 
 pectorc ci gro nascunterdoKuni,) bind us, incapable of 
 resistance, it; abject and habitual submission. The 
 "soft enthusiast,* whose imagination, unchecked by 
 judgment, wanders in one continual scene of intellec 
 tual democracy requires daily greater excitement and 
 ultimately deadens his capacity by continual and mis 
 directed ellbrts. Accustomed to contemplate the high 
 wrought scenes of sensibility, he is incapable of ming 
 ling in the pursuits of active virtue, incapacitated for 
 the calm enjoyment of life, and with feelings too much 
 excited by a fastidious refinement, to relish aught but 
 the height of bliss, or excess of virtue, which summit 
 of felicity is attainable only for a moment, disgust is 
 the inevitable consequence, and guilt treads in the 
 footstep* of disquiet. That ideal perfection of virtue 
 springs from a mind of morbid sensibility, and with a 
 glorious, though impracticable, theory, he often deserts 
 those plain dictates of honesty, which grosser and less 
 sensitive spirits have universally adhered to. Such 
 are the miseries of an unchecked imagination. Hut 
 on the contrary, the pleasures of a vigorous and well 
 
 *l>r. Johnson * 
 
REMAINS MORAL. 137 
 
 directed fancy are at least equal in tlieir effects. "How 
 happy" (says the venerable Kcid) "is that mind in 
 which the light of real knowledge dispels the phantoms 
 of superstition; in which the belief and reverence oft. 
 perfect, all-governing mind, casts out all fear of doing 
 wrong; in which serenity and cheerfulness, innocence, 
 humanity and candor guard the imagination against 
 every unhallowed intruder, and invke more amiable 
 and worthy thoughts to dwell/ 
 
 ***** 
 
 "The man" says the same author," whose mind is 
 occupied by these quests must be wise: he must be 
 good, and must be happy." The mind cannot be al 
 ways busy, but must sometimes relax itself from the la 
 bor of reflection. The thirst of knowledge cannot al 
 ways subsist without satiety or weariness, and there is 
 nc more bountiful provision, for the recovery of the 
 ardor of enquiry, than the tendency of the mind to fly 
 from the pursuits of life, to combine the discordant 
 sources of happiness, and solace itself in the boundless 
 lot of fancied felicity. 
 
 There are few pleasures, unconnected with labor, in 
 which men can indulge without making inroads upon 
 virtue. Few can be at the same time unoccupied and 
 innocent. To extend the sphere of our uncontamina- 
 ted enjoyments, and ensure t relaxation, which, while 
 it unbends the mind, detracts nothing from the heart, 
 there is perhaps, no surer method than to cultivate the 
 pure wanderings of the faucy. The mind awakens to 
 a new existence, and scenes, before noticed (if at allj 
 with indifference, are gilded by its influence with all 
 the varying hues of beauty, and disclose unnumbered 
 charms, before invisible.* 
 
 &ot not to the intellect akm do ti tmlHes of Ima*in*t loo 
 bat, coch to the intimate contx?ctwn of matter and mind, that whatever aff*5ti 
 the ono, predaees a coTOvpooding iaftveace over the othor; and Sir Fnnc 
 Baeoa hu ranked UK* arwm, tbo * tfltec* >"* 
 
 18 
 
138 REMAINS MORAL, 
 
 "The high born soul Jj 
 
 Disdain* to rest her heaven anpiring wing, 
 Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth 
 * And this diurnal scene, she springs ak)ft 
 
 Thro* fields of air; pursues the (tying storm; 
 Hides on the vollied lightning thro the heavens. 
 Or yoked with whirl-winds and the northern blast. 
 Sweeps the long tract of day." AKLNSIDF. 
 
 To stand amid the works of the wonderful architect 
 as their admiring interpreter: to look around, not 
 with the unconscious gaze of mere animal sensation: 
 but to comprehend in their qualities tad uses, the thing 
 we behold, the air the sun-shine the lightning the 
 storm to see all things rising in their order and mo 
 ving in their harmony: to stand, as did the first man, 
 call by their names "all things that" j^ss before ns, is 
 to take one of the noblest and happiest positions on 
 earth, and fit test too for the Lord of this lower creation. 
 
 There 5 no heart so seared by woitlly pursuits no 
 understanding so uncultivated no bosom so steeled by 
 the grovelling things of earth, as to be incapable, at 
 certain moments, "short though they be, and far be 
 tween* of enjoying that divine emotion, which steals 
 the soul from the umvorthy anxieties of the world and 
 makes it "hold converse with the gods." 
 
 We cannot forbear, at times, to turn with a sicken 
 ing feeling from the cheerless pin-suits of bustling life 
 and the heartless, all absorbing interest of gain, to re 
 fresh the eye \\ith the never-fading verdure of a golden 
 age, and drink the living waters that gush from the 
 fountain of inspiration- perennial Helicon the sacred 
 retreat of the Muses! The poet is the pioneer of im 
 provement. Before science is advanced and civiliza 
 tion diflused, the productions of the bard are com 
 puterequiring not the aid of learning to paint scenes 
 familiar to his childhood, the characters with whom 
 he had acted, and events in which himself has borne 
 9 part Thus he is the first to oflei the fruits of his 
 
KKNtAtNS MOfcAI.. 439 
 
 aid foremost in the career of those arts, destin 
 ed to polish his uncivilized countrymen. -Unaided, at 
 an early age, hy learning, the situation of the poet more 
 than compensates this defect. The herald of events 
 passing before him, or of tradition, equally believed 
 not recalling the sentiments and manners of a remote 
 and obscure age, he requires .not the admonition of the 
 critic, to reflect upon the ideas aid expressions suited 
 to his characters. The language of feeling flows spon 
 taneously from the movements of his own heart and he 
 has no occasion to copy. Imitation misleads not his 
 judgment, nor fetters his imagination. He delivers sen 
 timents dictated by nature for he has no other preceptor. 
 His sentiments flow as if from inspiration, not inven 
 tion: no effort is visible, but he appears hurried on 
 by the moral impulse of instinct. Such is the simple, 
 yet lofty lay of the early bard, enjoying licence denied 
 to the poet of after times. 
 
 "Ant prodcsse volant, aut delcctarc Poets;" the 
 aim of the poet is pleasure and profit united. The 
 former the ostensible and immediate the latter the 
 indirect, though ultimate, object of his efforts. A poet 
 in name, but a philosopher in effect, pursuing the 
 same end by different means, he veils what would have, 
 otherwise, been harsh and displeasing, in the enticing 
 form and feature of amusement. The one appeals to 
 reason alone, the other more forcibly addresses the 
 judg wnt, aided by the influence of tbe pos>ions. The 
 former boldly commences the attack upon the princi 
 ples the latter, by a circuitous and skilful delay, first 
 prepos*es the heart. The one. with the stern voice of 
 truth aloae, forces conviction; the other disdains not 
 the assistance of harmonious measure, captivating 
 imagery, and all the tinsel and imagery of fable. " The 
 philosopher, bound down, to (act, pursues his course ^n 
 a circumscribed and preordained path: the poet, with 
 <; charter wide as the wild wind" ranges uncontrolled 
 over the exjwnse of Nature. Fiction (says the father 
 
140 REMAINS MORA I . 
 
 of criticism) teaches morality, not by dull and senten 
 tious maxims not by reciting historically what Arw 
 tides achieved or suffered but by the unbounded aid 
 of allegory and imitation, more surely effects its pur 
 poses. To poetry we turn as a relief from jarring 
 interest* the selfish coldness and the heartless caprice 
 of the world. In it we expect the fairest examples of 
 virtue and the noblest deeds of heroism, to cherish 
 loftiness of purpose, and elevate to a kindred magna 
 nimity. \Ve seek it to exalt, not degrade, the dignity 
 of our nature, to incite to emulation by exhibiting the 
 virtues, not urge to vice, by unrolling the dark scroll 
 of the iniquities of our species. It is the office of the 
 bard, to wean us from our disgust of life to reconcile 
 us to our fellows to exalt and reinstate fallen mortali 
 tyto fill us with higher hopes and aspirations and call 
 up the master passions of the soul in all their majesty. 
 
 Amid all the bufferings of the world and the cold 
 blights of niggard fortune, there is a portion of the 
 human mind (divinie particula mentis) which can call 
 up its own resources; and, with misfortunes howling 
 around it, can disperse the shadows of besetting care, 
 and create an elysium, equalled only by that, which 
 succeeds the clammy touch of indiscriminating death. 
 
 There are moments of hallowed beatitude, when the 
 soul, abstracted from the wants and woes, which pin 
 it down to earth, can wander from the enjoyment of 
 lower pleasures, and mount, with the energy of the 
 kinofly eagle, where nought is over it but the clear 
 blue sky, and the light, fleecy clouds which sweep 
 along the horizon. There are moments, in which, 
 though "short and far between," it shakes off its greater 
 incumbrances, and forgetting awhile the dull reality of 
 life, lives but to ethcrial inspirations it meets the 
 long lost loved ones of childhood, when it partakes of 
 a nobler nature, and commingles with purer and holier 
 aspirations of an ideal existence. 
 
REMAINS MORAt. 14! 
 
 "Thus at length 
 
 Endowed with all that nature can bestow, 
 The child of fancy oft in silence bends 
 O er those mixed treasures of his pregnant breast 
 With conscious pride. AKENSIDE, B. III. 
 
 There is a creative energy whieh revels in all the 
 beauty of the landscape which transforms the "idle 
 desert" of Arabia into the fertile v alleys of Languedoc 
 where the brook winds its murmuring course o er its 
 pebbly bed, and the rushing torrent thunders impetu 
 ous bearing every thing before it; the sunny dell is 
 alive with its humming multitude, and the cloud-capped 
 summit of the frosted mountain frowns in majestic gran 
 deur. At such moments the soul wanders to the blue 
 vault of Heaven, and silently offers up the ejaculation 
 of Akenside: 
 
 "Not content 
 
 With every food of life to nourish man 
 By kind illusions of the wandering sens*, 
 Thou maV st all Nature beauty to hi eye. 
 Or music to hij ear!" 
 
 PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS. fc# 
 
 Not to draw too much of our mood and its philoso 
 phy, wise or unwise, from the Psalmist -still less to in 
 dulge in those stale truisms which make up the bur 
 den of complaint in most essays we arc hourly com 
 pelled, nevertheless, as an unavoidable result of our 
 experience, to muse upon the vicissitude*, the uncer 
 tainties, or, rather, we should gay, the too serious cer 
 tainties of life. "Man that is born of woman/ d c. 
 This is the pitch note of all moral meditation, and we say 
 to ourselves, a thousand times a day, with something of 
 the gloomy fatality of Mohammed, "it is decreed" 
 sorrow, complaint, misgiving, pain and many regrets, 
 
142 UfcMAlNa MOUALt 
 
 fill aitd disfigure each page in the life of man. And if 
 his difficulties be neither oppressive nor positive, the 
 9tegutive pregnant, as the lawyers barbarously phrase 
 it, is at hand, and something is always wanting to the 
 completion of his happiness. There is always some 
 step tinlakon, and which he cannot take, tp .vards his 
 attainment of that vision of promises, that proposed 
 elevation, from which he may look down, with untroub 
 led spirit, upon those clouds and that tempest, with 
 %vhic!i he may once have struggled, but from the. as 
 saults of which, he. has made his escape. The ideal is 
 unattainable, and he feels it the illusion is still such, 
 and not for him. until, the fc eomiugof tliat perfect day/ 
 lie learnt that all is vanity, and gives up the pursuit. 
 In doing so he either becomes happier or less happy- 
 he certainly does not remain where he was. 
 
 Kut though idle to look and hope for pel -feet felicity 
 as a condition of the human lot, it is something worse 
 than idle, to yield up to the despondency which conies 
 with this conviction. Though unalloyed bliss belonged 
 not to I lie angels, it dots not follow that unalloyed mise 
 ry, or misery in any degree, must, unless we so will it. 
 be the destiny of man! We believe who does not?--- 
 that we were intended by the Creator for happiness, as 
 well here as hereafter in degree, at least, if not un 
 qualifiedly. There can be little doubt that the means 
 of such an acquisition are chiefly in onr own hands; 
 still less should there exist a doubt as to the propriety 
 of employing them. 
 
 Youth is the season for luxuriant hope*, triumph 
 ant anticipations, and all that gay company of warm 
 desires, and fruitful and flower- invested fancies. These 
 are blighted, battled, set at nought, and defrauded of 
 their promise, less by the decreethe stern and stub 
 born fate, than themselves, than ourselves. Were 
 our views directed arightdid we send our hopes on 
 tho proper path, and check their frequent extrava 
 gancies, would this be the case? Would our life bo 
 
REMAINS MORAL. 113 . 
 
 the long lesson of regret, of madness, of misery, that 
 we sometimes find itthat we, almost invariably make 
 it? * No---it would not. The Creator lias heen too 
 much the Crcutnrc of the Crcnftfrr: lias been too 
 mindful of man* to leave us in doubt as to the Fitting 
 answer. 
 
 In youth we are too prone to couple our ideas of 
 happiness with dreams of glory, ambition, and tlic 
 great name, ---the attainment of which, we at the same* 
 time entirely forget, depends quite as much upon the 
 disposition of our neighbors as upon lite doings of our 
 selves. Apart from this faet, the desire itself is that 
 of the boy-bauble the gold and the glitter---atid---lwt 
 why speak at all of this strong panting for the breath 
 the uproar and hii7?a of the populace! 
 
 Th-j ambitious man is the merest slaveand does 
 his drudgery under the fo*h of a most tyrannical anxiety. 
 Now scourged and now caressed, his existence is always 
 divided, and he alternates between the two extremes 
 of pampering promises* and the deepest prostration. 
 lie rises, it is true but then he^ falls, as certainly. 
 lie wins the fruit perhaps, for which he has been all 
 his life climbing busily, heedless of the thorny branches, 
 which tear and torment him; ami like those of the 
 Dead Sea, they turn to ashes on hi.s iips. 
 
 Wealth is the key to happiness, in the imagining 
 of another, and, perhaps, a much larger class. The 
 auri sacra famrs, is the true jewel, the sine (j\i/nwn 
 in the search after the imperial mistress, whose cheeks 
 are flowers of perennial bloom. They overlook an 
 other text or more, which the sacred volume furnisli.es. 
 That melancholy morality 
 
 "Man \vanta but little here below, 
 "Nor wants that litlc long/ 
 
 is entirely disregarded and they go on laying up the 
 grain in mountain masses, uncomcious that the worm is 
 ail the while making fearful haYoc in the granary. 
 
144 REMAINS MORAL. 
 
 There U another place, in which treasure* art to be 
 laid, where y it is said, the worm comes not, and, 
 through the security of whieh, thieves never break. 
 The instability and insecurity of earthly possessions, is, 
 however, a lesson of human wisdom common, dull 
 matter-of-fact, daily experience, and needs not holy 
 writ for its enforcement. The same experience would 
 speak of content, if men would hear; but this person 
 age has too little in her appearance that is attractive: 
 
 She comes too meanly dressed to win our smile, 
 And calls herself Content; an humble name! 
 Our flame i* transport, and content our scorn." 
 
 It is not merely the privilegeit is the distinguish 
 ing characteristic of man, to look forward into futurity, 
 and consider his actions, in relation, not only to their 
 immediate, but to their remote consequences. If, 
 therefore, we desire to retain the rights of the rational 
 creature, we must use them in reference to tnis survey; 
 and take due note of its teachings. This will have a 
 wonderful effect, in taking off the thousand scales which 
 obscure and impair the mental vision. We shall then, 
 possibly, be able to ascertain the genuine from the de 
 ceptive, happiness the substance from the shadow 
 the chaste from the impure. It sometimes occurs, in 
 matters of reason, as in those of sense, that, what to the 
 superficial examination would seem wise and valuable, 
 a closer inspection makes out to be vain and worthless. 
 To the eye some fruit wear the most delicious sem 
 blance, which are sour to the taste; and, in the pursuit 
 of happiness, many have learned with Cowper, to ex* 
 claim 
 
 "I have sought thee in splendor and dress 
 In the regions of pleasure and taste; 
 
 I have sought thee and seem d to possess, 
 But have found thee a vision at last." 
 
 "Defend me, therefore," says the same amiable moral 
 ist, "from reveries so airy. From the toil of dropping 
 
REMAINS - M01IA1,. 1)5 
 
 buckets into empty wells; and growing old in drawing 
 nothingup." Well might he pray in this manner, and 
 yet not touch the subject. Becnuse he was unsuccess 
 fulbecause, lie sought for water where water was 
 none because he was disappointed in his search for 
 flowers in a desert. we are not to infer the utter ami 
 final departure of happiness from the earth. It i* not 
 because she is unattainable, that she has not been found: 
 bnt she is so liable to be mistaken for her neighbours, 
 or rather, they for her, th;it no one need wonder that 
 thousands perish in the wilderness lamenting that she is 
 as far off as ever. We scarcely concur with the Poet 
 of the *Task. who thus i^ivts up the fasti 
 
 "No longer I follow a sound 
 
 No longer a dream I pursue; 
 Oh, Happiness, not to be fo;iml, 
 
 Unattainable treasure, 9dicu!* 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. 
 
 -- "Quod peti* hie et, 
 - animus si t non deficet a*qun." HORACE. 
 
 There is no subject in Ethics in the investigation of 
 \vhich the efforts of the Philanthropist have been more 
 unceasing, and the instructions of the Philosopher more 
 nil wearied, (and less regarded) than the constituent 
 principle of Happiness. There are few authors, how 
 ever inconsistent it may be with the main design of 
 their works, who can refrain from finding some corner 
 in which they may express sentiments concerning this 
 universal desideratum; and, amid this vast variety of 
 opinion, it may appear superfluous, for one to whom 
 Nature has exercised so little of her wonted liberality, 
 to lift up his voice in the general uproar. But if we 
 estimate the importance of an object by the magnitude 
 of its results, every candid mind will perceive the right, 
 
 19 V 
 
146 HEMA1NB MORAL. 
 
 nay obligation, that our "being** end and aim, 5 be 
 thoroughly considered by every rank of intellect. We 
 no sooner arrive at the enjoyment of our senses, and 
 feel ourselves susceptible of pleasure and of nain, than 
 we eagerly strive after felicity in one or other of its 
 different, and totally incompatible forms. 
 
 Few, if any, can arrive at that "altitude animi," 
 that calm, minified state of mind, which was the pecu 
 liar, though not less empty, boast of the Stoics. The 
 h iman heart can never be rendered inaccessible to the 
 approach of misery. Philosophy in vain plunges it into 
 the stream of wisdom: there will always remain some 
 part (like the vulnerable heel of Achilles) obnoxious 
 to the shafts of disappointment, The disposition of 
 man can never be entirely divested of the prejudices 
 and peculiarities of his nature, or rcndi-ivd superior to 
 the little troubles ant) inconveniences of life, and, of eon- 
 M-qucnce, he can never partake of entire sublunary bea 
 titude. Hut tho unalloyed bliss belong not to angels, it 
 \vouM not prove that misery W:LS intended for man; and 
 the desire of attaining it should be infinitely strengthen 
 ed by the hitherto unexplored, but (to me.) not less evi 
 dent, truth, that he who is happy on earth, will be happy 
 in heaven. Man as I before* intimated, cannot enjo\ 
 uninterrupted tranqnility, nor- be entirely exempt from 
 those crosses and calamities which are the eommon lot 
 of every one: "Nemo sine vitiis nascitur. optimns ilN 
 cst <jui minimi* urgetur." He must counteract those 
 obliquities of temper, and oppose those innate seeds of 
 vice, which must either flourish or die. In the pur 
 suit of happiness there is no error more universal, more 
 injurant* or more deceiving than delay. Notwithstan 
 ding the instruction of Philosopher*, the injunction of 
 reason and the command of Heaven, the spirit of pro 
 crastination prevails to a greater or less extent in every 
 human breast. Few live so as to give themselves rea 
 sonable satisfaction, but all intend to reform at some 
 future period. The gay votaries of fashion who use 
 
KEMA1NS MURAL. 147 
 
 life as a holiday, which they have only to enjoy, in 
 dulge a distant thought of using time for some valuable 
 end. The sensualist, ahsorbed in the gratification of 
 his passions, MM likewise some vague idea of living as a 
 rational being. The robber, too, in his moments of re 
 tirement, feels some slight sense of hitherto neglected 
 virtue, and entirlains some remote thought of reforma 
 tion. But it is in their moments of reflection only, and 
 the slight impression passes away as the breeze, which 
 leaves no trace on the bosom of the dec]). They con 
 tinue delaying Muir r-chcmcsof reformation, and indul 
 ging their propensities, until in pL-etore irgro nascun- 
 tur domini" their passions play the tyrant in their 
 breasts, from long habit they become incurable, and the 
 wretched victims sink into Lie most disgraceful inacti 
 vity. "He (says Martial) who has not courage to live 
 well to-day, will be less qualified to do so to-morrow." 
 -Next day the fatal precedent will plead,- and day 
 after day, and year after year, the same destructive 
 course will be pursued. But how easily might this 
 evil be avoided? How many hours of sad contrition 
 might man escape by checking his passions before they 
 acquire strength. All acknowledge the truth of this 
 maxim, "vcnienti occurete morbo:" they are ready* 
 Hay it is impossible to prevent them, to guard against 
 the approach of disc^e, poverty, or any thing that 
 may lessen their pleasure in life: but how few look to 
 their future welfare; how few regard this transitory 
 scene, Or cast a thought beyond their present state! 
 Follow but the injunction "obsta principiis" and you 
 will be free from every dangerous crime. Unaided by 
 the authority of Scripture, who can doubt that as "one 
 spark can fire a city," so will one vice inflame a thou 
 sand? As self evident as, that every thing must have 
 * beginning, is the fact that if the foundation is over 
 thrown the superstructure can never advance. 
 
 No one is so ignorant as not to know what is richt. 
 all require frequent admonition, else, disused to th 
 
148 REMAINS MORAL. 
 
 voice of virtue, we forget an obligation which we all 
 universally acknowledge. We wander from the right 
 path, mid are influenced hy the voice of the multitude. 
 Our pleasures are bounded by the present, we look not 
 forward to futurity, andanpear to forget that we are to 
 battle an -eternal niirht/ 
 
 isothingismnre destructive to real and solid content, 
 than the visionary creations of entlu siastic child uxxl. 
 The wild sketches of youth may for a w iuie amuse, but 
 cannot satisfy. In the fairy moments of imagination 
 we lool; forward with rapture upon a gilded landscape. 
 Wo regale our eyes with the most beautiful flowers, 
 heedless of the thorns which lurk beneath them. We 
 cherish luxuriant hopes, which are inevitably blasted 
 by dull reality. Hut were our views directed aright, 
 we should not be thus obnoxious to disappointment. 
 We often connect with our ideas of happiness, the gay 
 but empty tinsel of the car of fame. We remember 
 not that transient is the vision of terrestrial greatness: 
 the "palma nohilis," etc. fiivs our enthusiastic spirits, 
 nnd we eagerly strive after the "whittling of a name." 
 Wealth, too, finds its thousand votaries, who, the dic 
 tates of Reason, of Nature, and of (lod to the contrary 
 notwithstanding, place their whole enjoyment in this 
 Minimum honum of society. Disregarding the wants 
 of their fellow mortals, heedless of the rewards of futu 
 rity, absorbed in love of riches, they live in continual 
 apprehension, and arc unable to enjoy that of which 
 they are in constant dread of IK ing deprived. Hut far. 
 the greater portion of mankind are acknowledged pro 
 selytes of pleasure Pleasures, of one soil or other 
 olJ haviiig the name, few the essentials. AH highly 
 valued, and all, more or less worthless, to all a truth of 
 early realization* Thus in th-> purs iit of happiness, 
 many, allured by the fanciful dHhrhts of worldly plea- 
 SMIVS are forced in their bitter moments to exclaim "It 
 is all barren!" We s*e many apparently happy, 
 whose countenances glisten with pretended joy, but 
 
RKMAINS MOUAI,. 1 i<> 
 
 could we penetrate tlieir hearts we would sec nought hut 
 blighted hopes, corroding care and undermining soli 
 citude. What then constitutes felicity? The longer 
 we reflect the firmer will be our conviction that "vir 
 tue is man s highest interest/ What are the pleasures 
 of the sensualist! The mo ncntary gratification of a 
 bestial appetite and a never dying llame consuming his 
 body. He drowns reflection fora while, hut substitutes 
 a thorn which forever rankles in his bosom. He ban 
 ishes remembrance of his folly in oblivious wine, but 
 gains for his ultimate portion disease* anxiety and uni 
 versal scorn. And what is the boasted felicity of the 
 unprincipled voluptuary? 
 
 The seducer of innocence, the cries of the injured 
 haunt forever IMS imagi nation. The summit of enjoy 
 ment scarcely attained, happiness dies on the altar so 
 lately erected. Reflection brings satiety, and, after the 
 wild delirium of passion past, nought remains but the 
 gloomy truth that misplaced confidence and undeserved 
 affection have fallen irrevocably beneath his ruflian grasp. 
 What is the result of malice, revenge and envy? Do 
 they not invariably produce Fir^ilar feelings against 
 those wlo cherish diem, and disquiet, despair and the 
 distrust of all? The fears of the impious attend them 
 through life; the dread of just retribution, the conscious 
 ness of crime, and the horror of death embitters all 
 their enjoyment. Gloomy, unfeeling and morose the\ 
 know not the tranquil joys of life. b;it drag out a miser 
 able existence in continual apprehension. And on the 
 contrary, what are the bright glories of religion? 
 cleansing the moral atmosphere, they open the mind 
 to the pleasures of nature, of benevolence and of 
 cheerfulness. At peace with the world, and looking 
 with serenity upon the inevitable grave, they exult in 
 anticipated felicity? and sure of ultimate enjoyment in 
 the delights of paradise, life glides on like the clear 
 current of a limpid stream, with not a clog to ruffle its 
 surface, OP stain to disfigure its purity. It is not then 
 
150 UKMA1N4 MORAL. 
 
 because happiness is unattainable, that so many are un 
 happy. To enjoy life we must wish for those plea* 
 wires only, which result from the exercise of reason 
 and virtue. <k Non omnia possumus omnes;* all can 
 not be distinguished professional or mechanical charac 
 ters, but all may be good and happy. Let not the 
 cavils of the sceptical the scorn of the vitiated, or the 
 dcsjiuir of the miserable transport us from our real inte- 
 terest, and convince us that man was born for misery. 
 Felicity is well worth the search, and whoever unhesi 
 tatingly directs his efforts aright will surely find it; be 
 the issue what it may he will have the satisfaction of 
 faiiing when to succeed was impossible. But there is 
 no danger of failure. Within ourselves is placed the 
 power and upon us it depends to employ it. It is pe 
 culiar to no clime, it is indigenous to no people. 
 
 It may be found in cities abounding in men; it 
 may be found in the icy regions of Kamschatka, and 
 in the scorching heats of Lybia; in the fertile vallies 
 of Languedoc, and the "idle desert" of Arabia. 
 
 JEREMY UENTHAM AND THE UTILITA 
 RIANS. 
 
 A leading article in one of the late numbers of the 
 Southern Review, is devoted to a strict consideratiorf 
 of the heartless system of that great modern reformer, 
 Jeremy Bentham; the author of which takes ground in 
 this survey, from which the followers of Rochefoucault. 
 Godwin and Mandeville, will find itdiflicnlt to dislodge 
 him. By a thorough acquaintance with the human 
 heart and irresistible appeals to the deep-buried springs 
 of feeling, he proves, beyond a rational doubt, that mo 
 ral approbation is part of our natural constitution, and 
 that we can with no more truth deny its existence, than 
 that of the laws by which the revolution of the earth i 
 
REMAINS MORAL. 151 
 
 governed. We can as easily doubt the operation of 
 contrary tendencies, centripetal and centrifugal, in 
 the solar system, as that innate law, which attaches our 
 approbation to virtue, and withdraws it from vice. 
 
 We would willingly give an analysis of this beauti 
 ful essay which should be in every student s hand 
 but must be contented for the present with a mere re 
 ference vide pac;cs 2K6-^9O-29:V-2 ( .)6 where the 
 tottering and incongruous fabric of utility is shaken to 
 its foundation. To the masterly illustrations of our re 
 viewer we will add our own general opinion, forming a 
 skeleton view of the subject, not, perhaps, inconsistent 
 with his deductions. 
 
 Philosophy is the knowledge of ourselves, and the 
 great maxim of Solon constitutes its strict and proper 
 boundary. That it may, in a lax and gcncml sense be 
 defined, the basis of nil science, and, indeed, of every 
 thing in which reason takes part, is too well understood 
 here to be insisted upon: but its first essential and ulti 
 mate end and aim is the distinction between moral good 
 and evil the doctrine of the human heart. It teaches 
 man to investigate, understand and improve his facul 
 ties to be guided by, what Cicero calls the perfection 
 of nature, the recta ratio to combat error, prejudice 
 and education with the touchstone of reason, and in 
 every manner extend the sphere of our intellectual en 
 joyments. It leads him to scrutinize the peculiarities, 
 motives and propensities of his nature; to apply to each 
 its separate guide, foil and restraint, and press on in 
 the undeviating path of rectitude to that "altitudo 
 animi," which constitutes the true dignity, character 
 and happiness of intellectual man, 
 
 We have often thought that most of the disputes 
 which agitate the world were occasioned merely by a 
 diversity of opinion as regards terms, and that men 
 often arrive at different conclusions because of this mis 
 understanding. In those sciences which are founded 
 upon universally accepted truths, and which exclude 
 
HEUAIKH~-MOitAL. 
 
 fallacious ft|)hist!-y, anil 
 we perceive but inconsiderable dispute; and we are ii- 
 clined to believe tbat it would not a little conduce to 
 solve difficulties, disj>cl ambiguities, and bring our dis 
 cussions tc an issue, it", in place of an endless and per 
 plexing logomachy, we were to substituted few per 
 spicuous and authenticated definitions as the basis of 
 our investigation. "And lastly (says liacou,) "let us 
 consider the false appearances that are imposed upon 
 us by words, which are framed and applied according 
 to the conceit ami capacities of the vulgar sort; and al 
 though We think we govern our words and prescribe it 
 well W ioyftffil/Hiii nt ntlgus, sen tinnlitiii itt aupte.n- 
 1ex; * yet certain it is that words, as a Tartar s bo.v, do 
 shoot back upon the understanding of the wisest* and 
 mightily entangle and pervert the judgment. So it 
 is almost necessary in all controversies and disputations 
 to imitate the wisdom of the mathematicians in setting 
 down in the very beginning* the definitions of Our words 
 and terms, that others may know how we accept and 
 understand them, and whether they concur with us or 
 no. For it eometh to pass for want of this, that we are 
 sure to end where we ought to have begun, which is 
 in questions and differences about words/ If further 
 corrobonttion of our opinion be required, we can give 
 it from (if possible,) still more illustrious authority. I 
 -am apt to imagine* (says Locke,) that, were the im 
 perfections of language, as the instrument of knowledge. 
 more thoroughly weighed, a great many of the contro 
 versies that make such a noise in the world, would of 
 themselves cease; and the way to knowledge, and per 
 haps peace too, lie a great deal opener than it does.* 
 Men disputing upon points misconceived through am 
 biguity of terms, or perhaps (in fact) diametrically op 
 posite, will inevitably arrive at different conclusions: 
 but direct them 10 the same end concentrate their ef 
 forts in a single focus direct their powers exclusively 
 to one and the same conclusion, and leave them no sub- 
 
REMAINS MOKAL. JjJ 
 
 tertuge iii terms without any advocate but truth and 
 the long-sought for goal will inevitably he gained on one 
 hand, and conceded on thcother. THE MORAL SENSE 
 accordingly, has been defined, the approbation or blame 
 u.vardetl to us. by our h-jarts, as an action accords with, 
 or deviates from llie line of rectitude previously deter 
 mined by the aid of reason. To this definition then, 
 we shall strictly confine our strictures, as being the 
 idea we have conceived of the point in question, and 
 which alone we purpose to establish. That the mind 
 docs regard certain actions with approbation and others 
 with abhorrence, we h.ive iwt with none sufficiently 
 hardy to deny: but the feeling is ascribed to causes 
 alien to the original constitution of our nature, and 
 upon this point hangs the whole dispute. 
 
 In the investigation following, we purpose to estab 
 lish the following positions: 
 
 That an approbation of right, and detestation of 
 wrong, are totally distinct from reason (as their source:) 
 and, consequently, that the moral sense cannot spring 
 from education, habit, utility orany term, whatsoever, 
 that may be used to denote those that arc commonly 
 called the intellectual affections. 
 
 That the love of virtue does not take its source in 
 selfishness, or a view to our immediate or remote ad 
 vantage. 
 
 That it is a principle implanted in man from liis 
 primeval formation, and can never be eradicated but 
 by the most abandoned course of villainy. 
 
 Man, though the lowest link in the chain of intelli 
 gent being, presumes to arrogate to himself knowledge 
 possessed by Deity alone, and to shape bis obedience 
 to the dictates of divine will by his own feeble notions 
 of expediency. Reason has been triumphantly pro 
 nounced as the arbiter of our moral sentiments and the 
 sole cause of the approbation which certain actions 
 produce in the mind. That reason aids our moral 
 sentiments by enabling us to discover the relation o f 
 
 20 
 
154 REMAINS MORAL. 
 
 things, and the probable consequences of our actions. 
 and thus indirectly influences our feelings, we art* by 
 no means inclined to deny. But it only presents ob 
 jects of love and hatred to a principle of love and 
 hatred previously implanted in oi.:r system. To illus 
 trate our proposition by a simile (which we have some 
 where seen,) like a telescope, it shows us what was too 
 distant to come within the sphere of our vision; but it 
 does not alter vision itself. The best telescope could 
 give no aid to the blind. If utility be the measure of 
 virtue, it must be clearly and unerringly developed in 
 the eyes of the agent and of him who approves the 
 action in nr.other. Can this be the case? Can we sec 
 throuHi lh- i oaseqnenceof onr I eeds? If the ultimate 
 tendency of an action, through all its various winding) 
 to \i< final effect, be not necessary: and if it be asserted 
 tint a firm conviction of expediency on the part of the 
 individual, constitutes a safe and sufficient criterion, it 
 needs no eagle ken to discern it requires no prophet s 
 inspiration to foivsee it is the plain dictate of common 
 sense, that he rules of right will be as various and 
 discordant, as the form and features of those who adopt 
 them. Even philosophers, earnest in their pursuit 
 after truth, have differed in the tendency and conse- 
 qiK>nt propriety of certain deviations from the strict line 
 of rectitude. And can we suppose that the mass of 
 mankind, immersed in their pleasures, will hesitate to 
 avail tbems Kes of this appeal to erring reason, and 
 (imperceptibly controlled by their passions) persuade 
 themselves of the perfect propriety of a course diame 
 trically opposed to nature and utility! Will an action 
 performed v/ith a view to utility by one man, be viewed 
 with Approbation by another? Arc not the notions of 
 mankind as various as their persons? Thus every one 
 will create morality for himself, and the end of tbc 
 scene, will be its almost entire abolition from society. 
 Does the mother, who hazards death to save her sickly 
 infant from the venom of the serpent, contemplate for a 
 
BEMAINS MORAL. 155 
 
 moment, before or during the act, the probable advan 
 tage to accrue to society by the preservation of her 
 cluld? 
 
 "Prudens futuri tcinporis exitum 
 Caliginosa noctc premit Deus, 
 Hidulquc si mortal is ultra 
 Fus trepidat. HORACE. 
 
 "The ways of Heaven arc dark and intricate, 
 Puzzled in mazes, and perplexed with errors; 
 Our understanding traces them in vain, 
 Lost and bewildered in the fruitless search, 
 Nor sees with how much art the windings run, 
 Nor where the regular confusion ends. 1 * AD. CATO 
 
 Do we in the generous enthusiasm, with which we 
 regard a noble action, check the pleasing sympathy to 
 inquire if some collateral evil may not ensue? If utili 
 ty be the occasion of our Applause, would not the har 
 monious operations of our nature (distinct from their 
 beneficent author) be dignified with the epithet virtu* 
 ous? Would we not feel the same towards the daily 
 revolution of the sun, as we do to the disinterested de- 
 votion of the immortal Hampdcn, the intrepid resis 
 tance of our revolutionists, or the dying faith of the 
 tortured martyr? Who ever compared the emotions 
 arising from the contemplation of the benefits of the 
 press, with those excited by the character of a Catoj an 
 Addison, a Melancthon, a Fenclon, or a Washington? 
 *<A benevolent man and a steam engine, may be both 
 instrumental to the happiness of society; and the quan 
 tity of happiness produced by the unconscious machine 
 may be greater, perhaps, than tbat produced by the 
 living agent; but there is no imaginary increase or 
 diminution of the utility of the one and of the other 
 that can make the feelings with which we view them 
 shadow into each other or correspond in any point of 
 the scale." (BroWn, vol. iii.) If our opponent rejoin 
 (as unsophisticated feeling prompts) that it is to utility 
 in the actions of mitral agents, alooe to whioh appm- 
 
156 HEMAfNS UOKAI*. 
 
 batiou is annexed, they concede the points they 
 admit that mere usefulness is insufficient to win our 
 applause and esteem, and that there must be united a 
 capacity (or propensity) peculiar to voluntary moral 
 
 beings. 
 
 An individual, prompted by his passions to pursue a 
 certain line of conduct? makes reason the arbiter? and 
 finds it inconsistent with ail established moral rule. If 
 he check his propensity and obey reason, and there is 
 no internal reward no approbation of the <mcns sibi 
 conscia recti" where arc- we to find an inducement 
 sufficiently strong to overcome on another occasion the 
 impetuosity of his desires, and persuade him to a con 
 formity to acknowledged obligation? There must be 
 some controlling voice, when- we obey, and some warn 
 ing monitor, when we deviate from the observance of 
 known duty. Otherwise has man been cast upon the 
 world by his Creator, prone to error the sport of 
 adventitious circumstances, guided by his appetites, 
 and with no stain]) of divine impress, no signet of pro 
 vidence to warn his erring nature f*om vice, and coun 
 teract the seeds of depravity, which all possess, and. 
 which must either flourish or die? We trust, that we 
 have sufficiently shaken the tottering, incongruous fab 
 ric oi utility, to convince every candid mind of it* 
 utter rottenness. We will, crt we dismiss this division 
 of our subject, offer one illustration further (derived 
 from the able professor of Metaphysics in South-Caro 
 lina College) which will, we trust, carry instantaneous 
 conviction to every wavering mind. If reason be the 
 true source of the moral emotion if its strength be de 
 rived from reflection if utility be its monitor, let us 
 apply the theory, and nature will indignantly respond 
 in our favor. A benefactor from whom we draw even 
 thing even existence, itself, is in urgent want of our 
 assistance to sustain life: beside him, struggling in the 
 jaws of death? is a much more important individual. IT 
 reason is to adjust the scale and declare the issue tin 
 
UKMAINS MOUAI . 1 .>? 
 
 Lencfactor, the father, is declared the more insignifi 
 cant member; the other, to whom we owe nothing, 
 (save the universal milk of human kindness.) is the more 
 useful citizen: and thus utility commands us to desert the 
 expiring parent Mid fly to the rescue of the stranger? 
 But does passive nature obey the mandate? Is the 
 mind vacant to the unfeeling calculation"- Or dors she 
 not spurn the narrov counsel, and obey the authority 
 of a mightier dictate? 
 
 Were all men: (says a beautiful writer, comment 
 ing, we think, too mildly on the consequences of this 
 system) **to measure their actions by utility, that varie 
 ty of sentiments and passions, which at present renders 
 human society so interesting: and like a happy combi 
 nation of notes in music produces an enchanting har 
 mony, must be reduced to the dull monotony of onr 
 tranquil sentiment. Every man, it h true, would meet 
 his neighbor, with the mild aspect of calm Philosophy, 
 and with the placid smile of perfect benevolence: but 
 no eye must be seen sparkling with rapture, or melting 
 with tenderness; no tongue must utter words of kind 
 ness which have not first been exactly measured in the 
 scale of universal benevolence/ Hcason and feeling, 
 then, are manifestly at variance. If we be the arbiter 
 between these opponents, the election will be quickly 
 made in favor of the latter, as original and always the 
 same against the former, which is frequently clouded by 
 artifice, obscured by sophistry, and shackled by the de 
 mon, lucre. Whence arises the immeasurable differ 
 ence between the morality of the ancient poets and 
 philosophers? Tiic former we find pure and undefiled 
 by sophistry: the latter tainted with prejudice, infect 
 ed with love of gain deserting the imperishable to 
 Kalon, for the miserable, transient policy of the to prc- 
 l>on. The cause is obvious; in poetry, the offspring of 
 feeling virtue flows warm and undefiled from the 
 fountain of the heart; in philosophy men strive, "non 
 sibi res, sod sew rebus aptare/ It is its futile boast to 
 
156 HEMAINS V10KAL. fc 
 
 dive into the boundless arcana of nature, and in its du 
 bious search, it adopts opinions upon mere speculation, 
 without reference to facts. Frail reason then, so ob 
 noxious to error, so seldom the test of truth "a bubble s 
 gleam amid the boundless main," is not the criterion 
 we adopt. We refer to ourselves, and where we find 
 opinion universal in favor of nature we hesitate not to 
 admit her decree. 
 
LITERARY AND CRITICAL. 
 
 CLASSICAL EDUCATION. 
 
 "Res Miiqtne lauili* et nrtis 
 
 "Ingredior Kinrto* nusus rccludorc fontcs." 
 
 VIRGIL, Geor. 2 v. 174. 
 
 There has heen no period of the world so far as our 
 Histories have made us familiar with its existence, so 
 earnest in its exertions, so untiring in its efforts, so va 
 rious in its objects, and so confident of success in their 
 pursuit, as the Nineteenth Century. Ours; is truly, 
 an extraordinary era. It looks back upon, and assents 
 proudly its superiority over the past. It strains its vi 
 sion through the dim vista of the future, and is compel 
 led to predict, that it too, will in turn, be surpawed. 
 Proud in its strength, it is still discriminating in its ex 
 ultation conscious of its acquirements, it is not igno 
 rant of the mighty vast yet to be acquired, and hitherto 
 entirely unexplored. Never has the voice of reforma 
 tion been so clear, so strong, so encouraging never 
 the spirit of enterprise and enquiry, so alive and ac 
 tive. Every stride taken by our age is one of improve 
 ment of enlightened views- of diffusive intelligence. 
 Knowledge whether Moral, Political or Literary is 
 not now confined to one or a few favored nations. 
 Science, no longer shut up in the monastery, has un- 
 cowled her head, and waking from her "slumber of 
 ages" has gone abroad on the mighty wing of her own 
 energies, conquering and to conquer. Truth is awake, 
 busy in unsealing the vision of human nature, and free 
 ing its limbs from the shackles of antiquated institutions. 
 
160 BEMAIXS MORAL. 
 
 Hence, aided by the unfettered intercourse which pre 
 vails, arises the reciprocal influence, which nations 
 exert upon ore another. No incident of moderate in 
 terest can occur in the most insulated hamlet, without 
 finding its way, with a rapidity almost incredible even 
 now, into every portion of Christendom. Example 
 provokes imitation and rival achievement incites toad- 
 venture and emulation superior happiness or prospe 
 rity, occasions invigorated and close inquiry, which is 
 not allowed to cease, while the object of desire is unat- 
 tained. In all this we trace the progress of that migh 
 tiest of agencies known to our condition. the sleepless 
 intellect the soaring mind. The empire of reason 
 has been extended from the contracted boundary of a 
 (loshcn, to the widest extent of human civili/ation. 
 The a r is i oc racy of talent is gradually expanding into 
 a republic no longer swayed by an autocrat, but gui 
 ded and governed by a band of legislators, equally in 
 terested with those for whom they provide, in its just 
 government. 
 
 Such are the favorable aspects, which at a first glance 
 the age puts on to the eye. These features, however, 
 have their irregularities and defects; and we are con 
 strained, while lauding the enterprise of our era, and 
 contemning that dissonant and senseless outcry against 
 innovation so frequent in the mouths of those wedded 
 to old errors to regret that extravagance has mingled 
 with endeavour, and a senseless and sounding declama 
 tion, concerning and in behalf of an unreal and indefi 
 nable optimism, has silenced, in some respects, the ar 
 guments and exhortations of sober and calculating truth. 
 While admitting with Locke, that "we are born with 
 faculties capable of almost any thing that our minds 
 are susceptible of incredible expansion, and possess an 
 elastic power equal to heights, hitherto unattempted. 
 we must still insist that there is much that we may not 
 know, and difficulties that may not be overcome. 
 There are limits to the most excursive intellect, and 
 
REMAINS T.nr.KAKY, &C. 161 
 
 utterly vain, therefore, is all the cant and declamation 
 which we hear, about progressive and endless improve 
 ment and future -perfectibility. The world exists, not 
 for the past or for the futuivi hut for the present: and 
 he who seeks that life may he made available, nor utter 
 ly consumed and wasted in profitless speculations, 
 should legislate and think for the living, misled by no 
 dreaming fancies of ideal infallibility. \Vc should* not 
 thus dwell upon this misplaced exertion and. did they 
 not impair the proper labours of others, should leave 
 these dreamers to the quiet of their own Utopia. Not 
 satisfied, however, with working to the injury, alike, of 
 the presi-nt and the future, these Philosophers of a 
 golden age yet to come, have mingled with their fancies, 
 denunciations as bitter as unfounded, of the achieve 
 ments of the past. Not content with the assumed pri 
 vilege of erecting a fanciful system for after times, they 
 must raze and overthrow all the fine structures left us 
 by preceding ages. To this propensity of our day 
 this overweening spirit of reformation is to be attri 
 buted the ungracious effort, so frequently of late made, 
 to depreciate and diminish the value of those arts, and 
 that literature, left us by our great progenitors and be 
 nefactors the ancients. Our faith is high, however, 
 and remains unshaken; and, though reluctantly, we op 
 pose the irreverent and rash spirit of the age, with the 
 hope that the cause we espouse, be not identified with 
 the feebleness or deficiency of the advocate. 
 
 When an eminent jurist of the day assumes the task 
 of decrying the ancients, making the notable discovery 
 that Homer is superficial, Virgil a plagiarist, Demos 
 thenes a brawler, and Cicero only a spurious rhetori 
 cian though backed by the carping of Zoilus, and 
 the witty absurdities ef Mons. Perrault, he proves 
 himself too far behind the time, by a couple of thou 
 sand years. The capacities of such writers, stamped 
 by the almost universal applause of the world, rest 
 wpon a foundation too firm to be very readily over- 
 
162 REGAINS LITERARY, <&C. 
 
 thrown by such assailants. The public ta*te has long 
 since passed the sentence which after ages luive all de 
 lighted to confirm and .sanction; and he who would 
 boldly undertake a change on this matter, must first 
 enter upon the somewhat difficult labor of remodelling, 
 not sciences, nor arts, nor language, but human nature 
 itself.* 
 
 The study of what is left us of ancient lore large 
 and yet limited a* it is, has been, and always must be 
 esteemed an essential part -of modern education, and 
 the acquisition of its stores, the ultimatum of successful 
 mental inquiry. Nor has the value of the pursuit, or 
 the accomplishment of its object, been too highly esti 
 mated. Its utility, however, can be fully appreciated 
 only by those who have experienced its influence. It 
 may, indeed, excite the surprise of ignorance, paying 
 veneration to what is incomprehensible, or the splenetic 
 sneers of envy, affecting to despise what it will not sec L 
 to acquire and docs not understand."!" There is a mu- 
 
 *The battle between the Ancient* and Moderns (ia)ing aside the early con 
 tention between the pupil of the irritable 1*0!) crated, nptly My led "The Rhe 
 torical Dog," and Ins opponent Vitruvia; and the more recent triul of 
 strength between Sir \V. Temple, Swift, Hoileau and Mad. Dacier on the 
 one hand, and Wotton, Voltaire aod 1 errault on the other, has been lately 
 brought (ai we think) to a decisive result by the united action of Messr*. Ad 
 ams, Read, and the redoubled champion of the Southern Review, M -. (irimke. 
 In justice to the beautiful (though us we believe, visionary) speculations of th* 
 latter individual, we must admit, that if any thing could give success to hi* 
 mistaken (though philanthropic) \icws, hu i-loqucM ami acute enforcement of 
 tin-in | 3 well calculated to command it. 
 
 Si Pergama de.itra 
 
 Defendi possent, etiaru hac defensa fuinsent." VIRUIL. 
 
 i\Ve have frequently heard well-meaning meu astvt that the 1 agan My 
 thology, and the loose fable* accompanying it, tended to seduce the under 
 standing and corrupt the heart; but have, always*, placed the objection to its 
 proper account, passing it by as unworthy of serious refutation. The point 
 has however, been forced upon our notice, by the disclosure of the same opin 
 ion from more responsible sources. That the idolatrous fables of the Olym 
 pian and his fellow divinities (which no enlightened ancient believed, oru.-vi 
 for any purpose, save to impose upon the infatuated mob) should militate 
 against the true belief, u an apprehension so childwh, that we c.-.n scarcel) 
 credit, (save from evidence indubitable) that it could ever have been serious 
 ly indulged. We can liken it to nothing;, but the infinitely ridiculous dread of 
 Je*n Jaques Rousseau against the unholy influence of fables on the infunt 
 Diind We do not deny, that passages (and many too) of immoral tendency 
 pervade the writers ( antiquity; wo regret lh^ fart, and by no means intend to 
 
TtEMAlNS LITERARY* &C. 163 
 
 t.ial connection and dcpendance between the sciences; 
 -wd the improvements which are made in one branch of 
 human knowledge, necessarily shed light upon another 
 always furnish us with increased incentives to inquiry, 
 and often illnminnte a new path of investigation which 
 leads to the most important results. We are far from 
 a-lvocating a promiscuous course of application. TV) 
 limit the immediate sphere of our ellbrts to chain 
 down the mind to the subject matter before it to cling 
 sedulously, and only, to our peculiar occupation, is the 
 only en-tain security for success and distinction. It is 
 however, by no means at variance with the most devo 
 ted assiduity, to pursue the various labours of science, 
 and acquire a, general knowledge of life and letters, 
 whereby the mind becomes expanded, and is in this- 
 way pivsrt vc l from the contraction it would necessari 
 ly undergo, from any one exclusive pursuit.* But 
 even were it otherwise ndinitting that the time bes 
 towed upon the classics r/fV (as it certainly does not) 
 detract from professional eminence or emolument who 
 is there, who would estimate the value of enlarged in- 
 tcllc^t ial vision by a degrading comparison with the 
 />/.? and minus of worldly and pecuniary advantages? 
 
 Jrffiid tlio practice. Hut we declaim he % isionary chcmc of reacting all tint 
 may be tinctured with evil. But to meet the objection more openly, we do not 
 be-iute to say, tint in even species of writing, which corrupt* the principle*, by 
 Appealing to the ftcnsu.il pistons, nnd charming the voluptuous imagination, 
 THK MODERNS have ftr exceeded thpir forefather*. A n.igarioiH writer 
 (TEMPLE) has cornpircd ancient indelicacy to n naked child, modern to a 
 robed courtezan. We do not agree with him in the point* of hi* likencv. 
 though we coincide in or conclusion*. Ancient indelicacy w of *o grow*, un- 
 blmhmg. a character, that its effect U considerably loaned by the digu*t. 
 \vhch it produces in every mind, not utterly chared hy depravity; wh*rta 
 their rocceH<on > have artfully enveloped their filth with an encaging pxirrior. 
 and more efficaciously, enticed to vice, by thejuemblance of purity. We will 
 not exemplify our opinion, certain that instance*, corroborating oar assertion, 
 will readily occur to every mind. 
 
 *"There M no profession or pnrrait, which ha not habits peculiar to it*Hf; 
 ind which does not leave some pmver* of the mind dormant," AT. Stttr- 
 art i Elfmtntf, rol. 1, p. 20-21. The whole pawoge u to appropriate to 
 oar pvrpOM, that, did oar limits permit, we would willingly transcribe it at 
 large- In anot^r place th^ beaalifal writer to markedly coincides with on in 
 the opinion we have advanced, than we cannot forbear adducing the wn 
 f bin name, the w*mv* here, aJso be content with a sunple rrfereno*. 
 
164 KEM.UNS LirCHAUY, &C. 
 
 The end of all tuition, is, to employ the language of tltf 
 inspired Yenusiau "facere et tttrvare bcatox* <ti> 
 make men happy and to keep them so." It is not the 
 aim of the enlightened intellect to become a lawyer, or 
 a divine or physician, for the mere purpose of gain, but 
 to exalt the Understanding, to extend the sphere of use 
 fulness and enjoyment, to give a wider field of survey 
 to the free vision, and ifi every variety of way, to mul 
 tiply the sources of all legitimate pleasures. 
 
 The first advantage, accruing from the pursuit of 
 classical learning, is the mental method and discipline 
 which it produces, and .the acute and enlarged tone of 
 mind which it awakens and engenders. To analyze 
 the syntactical construction and elucidate the idea of 
 an author thence, in the perusal of the highest order 
 of writers, to trace an allusion, and decide upon and 
 determine its fitness display and illustrate its proprie 
 ty, or point out its defects to pursue the bearings 
 and ascertain the accuracy of a Metaphor to trace the 
 analogy of languages their peculiar excellencies and 
 defects, and by an accurate comparison and contrast of 
 leading and different writers, determine, not their com 
 parative merits, simply, and the gradual advancement 
 of literature, but those true standards, by which all 
 who come after arc to be guided oiul restrained: these 
 all fall within the control arid scope, and their conside 
 ration make up the offices and advantages of the classi 
 eal education. That the memory a faculty beyond 
 all others dependant upon its own exercise and" fre 
 quent practice, is in great measure created; and un 
 doubtedly strengthened, by the repetitions necessar) 
 ill the acquisition of a language, admits neither of de 
 nial or dispute. Imagination, the offspring of accumu 
 lated ideas, tastefully arranged, is peculiarly indebted 
 for many of her choicest stores to the lore of ancient 
 times, not readily obtained elsewhere and the guide 
 for the skilful combination of which (a faculty not less 
 Essential than the material itself,) she also owes to the 
 
KKMAINS UTKRAftY, &C. Itxi 
 
 same prolific source. Our taste is a faculty susceptible 
 of almost infinite improvement, and the perusal of the 
 polished models of composition, transmitted by the 
 scholars of antiquity, established those accurate stand 
 ards of judgment that unerring criticism for the pro 
 per perception of beauties, which cannot, through any 
 other medium be obtained, and which cannot readily 
 be lost or forgotten. The acquisition of the classics is 
 the best nay, the only sure foundation, for the study 
 of the modern languages. An acquaintance with one 
 grammar immeasurably facilitates our acquaintance with 
 another. What theory would induce us to recognize 
 as the fact, actual experiment has demonstrated to be 
 true; and the student who has once mastered Greek and 
 Latin, progresses in all the languages of modern Europe, 
 with an ease and rapidity, which one. devoid of these 
 advantages, in vain labours to rival. We pass by the 
 minor poiht, that, to the mere English scholar, innume 
 rable terms of science, the correct knowledge of which 
 is almost essential to the acquisition of an art, must re 
 main either wholly unintelligible or but partially Un 
 derstood: and the fact, which, however important, 
 need not here be dwelt upon, that learning has flourish 
 ed in different countries only as classical science has 
 been cultivated, would of itself be conclusive on thd 
 subject, were other arguments wanting. But not only 
 are the terms of science unintelligible without a know 
 ledge of the classics but even in works intended mere 
 ly for the amusement of the lighter mood and moment, 
 occur numberless effusions, maxims, figures and fa 
 bles, equally obscure and mysterious, wanting in thi<? 
 talisman. From this fruitful source, the writer derives 
 his richest treasures of illustratioti and embellishment; 
 aad if the reader cannot follow him in his flights, the 
 phasure, and with it the profit, is lost. We put the 
 question strongly. Let a reader, who is acquainted 
 with his vernacular tongue alone, approach the literary 
 models of his own country, and. we hesitate not to say. 
 
166 BLXl.UNr* UTKKAiU, <lC. 
 
 that he wHl find them so interwoven with classic lore 
 so entirely the growth of ancient institutions, and so 
 imbedded with their history, customs, etc. as to he un 
 intelligible, or, at least, lose half their value, to one 
 not deeply imbued with the spirit of antiquity. In 
 proof of our assertion, we point to the witty page of 
 Cowley, the learned text of Milton, and the lofty 
 strains of Grey; to the wild luxuriance of Drydcn, the 
 pregnant verse of Pope, and the playful humor of Cow- 
 per. It has been averred, that the Ancients, in their 
 best sketches of the most animating scenes, dwell too 
 much upon the surface, without penetrating into the 
 real and final source of our emotions that they pour- 
 tray a picture, graphic indeed, and producing a striking 
 i* fleet upon canvass, bat fail to fathom the recesses of 
 the heart, and arouse its dccj>cst and loftiest feelings. 
 From even our limited acquaintance with the great au 
 thors of antiquity, and our consciousness of their deep- 
 toned energy, we unhesitatingly deny the assertion. 
 To one, indeed, enamoured of the dreamy mysticism 
 of modern "appeals to the heart, v and the eternal cant 
 about Human Nature 5 in most ostensible speculations 
 into the mind, we believe it may appeal the fact. But 
 to us, who estimate the power of a writer, by the im 
 perceptible sway he exercises over our sympathies, 
 rind who deem it the height of art, to conceal effort. thU 
 apparent superficialness is the surest evidence of a tho 
 rough intimacy with the deep buried springs of feeling. 
 To show, beyond contradiction, the utter futility of this 
 objection, we need only appeal to the examples of AN 
 CIENT ELOQUENCE, woven in the loom of that celestial 
 deity, whose smiles to the modern would have been but 
 partial and transcient. If there be any art, which re 
 quires a rigid analysis of the passions and prejudices of 
 mankind, and a thorough insight into human character, 
 it is undoubtedly that persuasive talent whose object it 
 is to enlist the passions and win over the heart, even 
 when the understanding remains unmoved. It has been 
 
ULMA1NS LU KKAKY, &C. 167 
 
 affirmed by the purest of English writers,* that ever) 
 intrinsic beauty, in the authors of one tongue, can be 
 transferred uninjured to another. That the merge is 
 perhaps, more consistent with facts that much of the 
 original freshness and gloss of a literary -model depends 
 upon idiomatic expression, adaptation of luiiguugc to 
 subject or other ciir ums.Umc.es, which imitation (still less 
 translation) cannot copy lias lv < u fully demonstrated 
 by experience. Relying, however, on this flimsy t rule, 
 and regardless of facts, these self- panegyrists assert, 
 that those dreams of poetical feeling, which "brighten 
 and brighten, as time steals away/* and those inimita 
 ble exhortations^ which chained Senates in applause, 
 may be, with all their attendant impressive energy, 
 transferred to our vernacular tongue. <Tnir. ?? says 
 Judge Story, they may, as one rcmcmhei* the face of 
 a dead friend, by gathering up the broken fragments of 
 his image: as one listens to a dream \\\ ice told: as 
 on-j catches the roar of the ocean in the ripple of the 
 rivulet: as one sees the blaze of noon, in the first 
 glimmer of twilight/ 
 
 It is all in vain that modern daring, and ill-advised 
 innovation would depreciate and decry these ancient 
 schools these mighty lesson crs. The monuments of 
 these, themselves undying monarch*, stand, like the 
 "rock of ages," unmoved and immoveable!< defying 
 
 Addison. Spectator On Wit. thinks Additon not BO we. W- 
 are di.poed rather to think with the wittiri.mii of one of the moderns, that 
 "every thing suffer* by translation except a Bishop." 
 
 tl think it i* now pretty generally conceded, that Addi*on, however deser 
 vedly celebrated for his chaste, simple, and elegant style, in (save in a few 
 instance*, as hi* Eitayg on Imagination and hi* nolts on Ovid) deplorably 
 deficient in vigor and originality; (always excepting his delicate and purely 
 attic humor, which peculiarly his own) and thai his best observation* are 
 mere transcripts, which he has embellished and set in new lights (thereby, it 
 true, giving them their value) by hu inimitable and enticing decoration*. 
 
 $ We have ever been of opinion, that each M the character of ancient Ore- 
 tiona, and that the GreeU and Romans either pomwed not (in their Oratori 
 cal department) our clow, subdued, though calmly persuasive *tyle of *f cak 
 ing; or that (with many ef their rxh*i tr*8*n ret > oblivion ha**h*drl it with 
 his maatle. 
 
168 KF.MAlfcS LITERARY, &C 
 
 alike the ravages of time, the neglect of society, and 
 the sneers and assaults of that yet more ungracious 
 class, who having drawn their nutriment from her 
 hreast would now deny their beneficent mother. We 
 iire thoroughly convinced, that, to the study of the an 
 cients is to be attributed whatever of polish and accuracy 
 has been acquired by modern languages. By the pe 
 rusal of classical models, referring to them as stand 
 ards and endeavoring to imitate their beauties a por 
 tion of the regularity and vigorous terseness of their 
 style, has been transferred into the dialects of modem 
 Europe.* 
 
 There is no country in the old world the land to 
 which we are bound by the double tie of consanguinity 
 and gratitude, to which we owe our arts, our civili 
 zation and literature there is no short* from the bleak 
 North to the sunny South from the IIyperl>orean 
 with its endless snows to the smiling plains of Italy, 
 where "the whole year in gay confusion lies 9 whose 
 literature has not sprung up, flourished and been fos 
 tered and matured by the all -pervading spirit of the 
 ancients. This single fact superior to all human specu 
 lations concerning the ix>ssihlc advance of mind, stands, 
 Jike the rock of the Anchorite, in the sacred waters 
 of the Ganges,! ba filing every cflbrt for its removal. J 
 
 It cannot escape the notice of the most superficial observer, that of late, 
 our lunguuge ha* degenerated from its formur strength and almost Attic sim 
 plicity, intodilTuscnes-i, tinsel, und meretricious ornament. That, to its phi j- 
 sophicul irregularity has xucceedexl uncontrolled innovation, and that there can 
 scarcely be found an anomaly, which hatt not been introduced by writers of 
 the last half century. It u the ^elf-evident dictate of the mcwt ordinary ob 
 servation, that this result can be tracod to the neglect which the pure modeU 
 of Antiquity have sustained in public estimation. 
 
 tVide Sketches of India by a British officer. 
 
 }To be convinced that the ancient models of writing are disregarded or for 
 gotten, we need pnly turn to the .Novels, l>ay and Reviews of the day, th* 
 productions too of men of no ordinary capacity. To answer the popular call 
 tor novelty, our writers are stimulated to sacrifice simple diction, to intent* 
 and abrupt phraseology; correct and chastened thought, to bold nnd daring 
 sentiment, and cautious und mature composition, and laborious correction, to 
 hasty and unequal etVorts resigning future fame for present notoriety and profit 
 To this all absorbing thirst after public fuvor, which hurries our author- to 
 
REMAINS LITERARY, &C. 169 
 
 It is not for mere pictures, to amuse the imagination 
 and interest the feelings, that we refer to the ancients 
 as the great masters of the heart. If, besides charming 
 the fancy and taking captive the passions, they inspire 
 a taste for true glory, strengthen the sentiments of vir 
 tue, discipline the understanding, and fit us for inter 
 course with our fellows, who will, for a moment, deny 
 their extensive utility? What can more conduce to 
 the ends enumerated, than the series of great actions in 
 every species of heroism, every department of life, 
 every trial, toil and difficulty, which brighten each 
 page of the historian, and add an additional lustre to 
 the lofty sentiments of the poet? Who, when he reads 
 of the noJ)le disinterested ness of Cincinnatus. the gene 
 rous contempt of wealth of Emilianus, and the herojc 
 self-denial of Scipio, does not imbibe- a taste for solid 
 glory, and real greatiiess, distinct from the fleeting 
 brilliancy of Worldjy splendor? Who, on perusing the 
 lofty response of the Roman matron, (Cornelia) who, 
 when requested to display her jewels, exclaimed, poin 
 ting to the noble sons of a generous sire, (Scipio) En! 
 h t f r -ornanwnla wen sunt docs not, with emulation, 
 hope th;vt the mothers of his country may have similar 
 cause for triumph? Who fails to make resolutions of 
 perseverance in the -path of undisguised virtue, when 
 ne reads the inimitable- panegyric of Salhist upon Cato, 
 ess<* (juam videri malcbat bonus; or to renew his exer 
 tions in the cause of philanthropy, animated by the 
 upbraiding self-reproach of the benevolent Titw? 
 What bosom does not thrill with the loftiest patriotism, 
 in contemplating the heroic, stubborn self-devotion of 
 the Roman Patriot, the invicta men* Catonis? And 
 whose heart does not bleed with -sympathy, whose 
 
 wpaiw, in the rapidity of their productions, eren the aridity of their readers 
 to pern*: their works, we attribute (what to 6*, appear* to be) the fate of by 
 fr the greater part of the innumeiable works of the day viz temporary 
 fame final oblivion. How many of the volume*, under which the prw* 
 <Kily (roans, will be referred to, as standards of taste, style, or sentiment, i 
 the 20th ceatwy? 
 
170 UEMAINS UTCEABY, Ac. 
 
 courage is not steeled in defence of his country rwheu 
 viewing the mournful, though, instructive spectacle of 
 
 A 
 
 ArTd 
 
 great man, struggling willi the ftorms of fate, 
 id nobly falling, with a falling state? 
 
 But why multiply instances? Every page teems 
 with instruction, every sentiment inculcates virtue, 
 every character warns us from error, or incites to gen 
 erous rivalry, in the cause of mankind! 
 
 Yes! in that generous cause forever strong, 
 The Patriot s virtue and the Poet s song, 
 Still, i the tide of ages rolls away, 
 Shall charm the world unconscious of decay. 
 
 But not in literature* alone, do we acknowledge 
 ourselves indebted and bow to the superiority of the an 
 cients. We are still forced to gaze, with despairing 
 admiration, on the animated forms depicted by the pen 
 cil of \pelles, the living group, wrought by the crea 
 tive chisel of Praxiteles, the mighty piles of the East, 
 triumphant over time, and the venerable fragments of 
 Grecian architecture, imposing even in their deso 
 lation! 
 
 The orator of the present day, has none of those 
 causes of thrilling excitement, which formerly awaken 
 ed the loftiest energies of the mind, and elicited, from 
 the treasury of genius, its deepest and brightest, and 
 richest stores. He has not mankind for his audience 
 high and permanent power for his incentive, and the 
 applause of posterity to reverberate his fame. He ad 
 dresses not the immutable springs of feeling, universal 
 to the whole human famify. His topics revp|ve upon 
 
 SVe have already said that we valued not classical lore as a mere source 
 of pleasure to the Library. Cicero, somewhere in his rhetorical rales, (Ite 
 Orator*) remark*, in pleading we quote the idea from memory though tl: 
 lile:ul aiU be not directiy made ose of, yet the hearer immediately dwcoven 
 whether the Ppeiker id jcquainted with them. It u thus that an intimacy with 
 the "rent model* of antiquity though they ! e not once aUuded to, tinctures oor 
 style, gives precision to our expression, elevate* our thoughts, and throws 
 OTCi our productions a garb of freshness and chastened originality. 
 
KKMAINS LHEHAKY, d C. 171 
 
 principles, which change with a variation of policy, 
 and fluctuate with that ever-varying Proteus public 
 opinion. He gives not tone to his age, but bends to 
 its mandate, and succumbs to its prejudices. In short, 
 to such a degree has the social fabric been re-modeled, 
 and the notions of its inhabitants altered, that the Ora 
 tor of Greece and Rome bears little, if any, similitude 
 to his successor of later date. Anciently, a gifted 
 mind, appealing to the immutable laws of human na 
 ture, linked by common interest to his audience they 
 ministering to his power, and he flattering their national 
 pride, exalting tneir imaginations, supplying stimu 
 lants to arouse their feelings, and meshes, to take cap 
 tive their passions wielded a sceptre over their spell 
 bound understandings, which rendered their sympa 
 thies submissive to his words, and moulded their actions 
 to the dictates of his will. Far different is the situa 
 tion of the modern rhetorician. Fancy with her po 
 tent spell has now few materials to wreathe in her ma 
 gic tie her dominion has yielded to a less visionary and 
 more tangible idol, icttuth the divinity of modern 
 times. 
 
 But the Chief source of the inferiority of oratory, 
 in modern days, and, especially, of the absence of the 
 "verba ardmtia" which glowed on every page of the 
 ancients, must be attributed to want of culture in its 
 professors. Despite the unvarying testimony of all 
 ac r cs _-the unerring dictate of universal experience, 
 that success in this art, unaided by untiring persever 
 ance, and determined effort, is unknown and notwith 
 standing the importance, which, though less than for 
 merly, is still attached to it the small attention it 
 receives from him, who has staked upon it his fortunes, 
 his eminence, nay his existence itself, is truly surpri 
 sing. In any other pursuit, such indifference, or rash 
 reliance upon natural talent would be esteemed an in 
 fallible symptom of folly. The ancient aspirant for 
 rhetorical renown, like his brother candidate, in Uir 
 
172 " , REMAINS LITERARY, Ii 
 
 gladiatorial arena, or the festive games of Olympus, 
 made every improvement in his powers, that unceasing 
 practice could ensure nor risked the encounter, 
 without repeated trials of his strength. Hi* devotion 
 to hi profession was undivided, untiring no diver 
 sity of pursuits, no complexity of husiness cou4d divert 
 him from the ardent prosecution of the end, which was 
 to make, or mar him upon which he had *Uked his 
 hopes, his expectations, his all! 
 
 
 
 CHATEAUBRIAND. 
 
 We find a passage, relating to the present and past 
 career of this great man, in the columns of a brother 
 journalist, to which we must unhesitatingly put in our 
 dissent. We quote the paragraph entire. 
 
 "M. DC Chateauhriand, was said at the last accounts 
 from France, to he engaged in writing a political pam 
 phlet, against a project of some writer, for the banish 
 ment of the Bourhons. The muse of this author is sus- 
 ceptihte of inspiration, under every variety of dynasty 
 air.! form of r^ile." He wrote political allegories un 
 der the im perial rciBji me. His imagination became 
 sublimated under the Bourboii domination, and he con- 
 coetal poetical prose, in large quantities, 1 for the glori- 
 ficption of that monarchy! Now, he" is not less adven 
 turous under the sway of royalty, ift a republican 
 guise. Bit genius draws reito it rcs out bf misfortunes, 
 and materials for new creations fiDm the most opposite 
 systems. M.*De Chitteauhriaud H-aYnystic-in |K)litics, 
 aiul his mysticism is tinctured from his religion, which 
 is spiritualized by lis imagination. Every thing is dis- 
 tillei through this alembic. He forms his political 
 system as he would combine the elements of his fictions. 
 He would have principles of action that are too etheri- 
 al and antiquated for our modern wants and appetite*. 
 
KKMA1XS LITERARY, &C. 173 
 
 He would make the church the handmaid of autho 
 rity, after making priests more than mortal men. He 
 would blend in the offices and maxims of the state, the 
 influences of piety and philosophy; hut his system is 
 founded upon associations which are merely poetical 
 which live on the. past which would revive faded re 
 collections. The world looks now to the wr/W, and 
 will sacrifice nothing to the romantic. The remem 
 brances of by-gone periods, that call up images connec 
 ted with martyrdoms for the church and feudal mo 
 narchy, are passed irrevocably. It is the whole scope 
 of M. Chateaubriand s genius to recall these -recollec 
 tions and make them the hasis of the renewal of the po 
 litical system, as he wishes it formed. The attempt is 
 vain, hut one cannot but admire the consistency of that 
 idealist, who thus under every change, clings to his 
 cherished scheme, and embellishes it with so much ge 
 nius/ 
 
 The quotation above made, is from the pen of our 
 very able and highly esteemed contemporary, Mr. 
 Cardozo, of the Southern Patriot; but we do not think 
 it marked by the temperate tone which uniformly cha 
 racterizes him, and the rigid logic which he seldom 
 fails to exact from others. His anathema strikes us. as 
 too unsparing his denunciations as too bitter his cri 
 tical touches as too general, vague, and inconclusive 
 to be entirely well founded, even were there no facts 
 that could be adduced in support of our objection. The 
 name of Chateaubriand is one dear to literature, and 
 may well excuse a word or two in its defence. That 
 he did acquiesce under the different regimes, that, in a 
 short space of time harassed his country, is certain: 
 But that he ever went beyond acquiescence with the 
 exception of a fewj iix d* esprit, and complimentary co 
 pies of verses, which readily find shelter under the 
 "poetica licentia" has never been substantiated. The 
 charge of political servility is a common one against li 
 terary men, and is about as well founded in this, as in 
 
174 MUI.UXS 1JTKWAKY, <i<: 
 
 most oilier coses. We do not pretend to be familiar 
 with the entire writings of M. De Chateaubriand, and, 
 thence, perhaps, are unable to comprehend the full 
 -force and apposite ness of some of the hard names whieU 
 our contemporary has bestowed upon our author: for 
 example "M. DC Chateaubriand is a mystic in poli 
 tics: and his mysticism is tinctured from his religion, 
 which is spiritualized by his imagination. Every thing 
 is distilled through this alembic. He forms his politi 
 cal system, as he would combine the elements of his fic 
 tions. He would have principles of action, that are too 
 etherial and sublimated for our modern wants and ap 
 petites/ etc. But, as far as our acquaintance extends, 
 we do not see their foundation in his published opinions, 
 or recognized acts. During Chateaubriand s travels in 
 I ak-stine, the Directory was abolished, Buonaparte 
 raised to the summit of power, and commenced exerci 
 sing it to "command not only the private acts, but the 
 writings the conversation and the very thoughts of 
 his subjects." It is true, that M. De Chateaubriand had 
 himself praised the despot; but this was at a period 
 when it was still excusable as to the "cal character of 
 Buonaparte. None of the enlightened men of the day 
 had penetration enough to prophecy, that the general 
 of the expedition to Egypt would be the future oppo 
 nent of the rights of humanitV, andM. De Chateaubri 
 and has the further excuse, that when the statesmen 
 and writers of France began to rival each other in 
 meanness, and prostrate themselves at the foot of the 
 throne, the author of the "Bfautits of Christianity"* 
 ceased to "worship the unworthy idol of transient glo 
 ry, recovered by degrees, and silently resumed the no 
 ble attitude, which belonged to him. It was now the 
 despot s turn to humble himself before the greatest wri 
 ter of his empire, and he adopted measures to draw 
 M. De Chateaubriand into the circle of his slaves, but 
 in vain. All his power was ineffectual, when exerted 
 
 Introdnction to tho Bounties of rhristianitjr. 
 
UKMA1NS UTKKAHV, &C. K*> 
 
 to shake the firm and noble soul of a single individual, 
 who was no longer to he imposed upon by fictitious 
 grandeur. lie was induced, however, by dint of per 
 suasion to become a member of the first literary socie 
 ty in France. 
 
 It was necessary that he should make a public, oration 
 on this occasion, and it was then, that he |>re pared his 
 celebrated eulogium on Liberty. His intrepidity as 
 tonished the institute and the Government. He was 
 forbidden to deliver his oration, but was never after 
 wards importuned for his support, which could palpa 
 bly never be obtained afterwards.* From this period, 
 his heart afllicted by the misfortunes of France, and the 
 degradation which literature and the arts had expe 
 rienced, was doomed to sigh in secret; but it experien 
 ced consolation, when the tyrant began to lose his pow 
 er of oppressing his country. Those who never could 
 have displayed the courage of M. DC Chauteaubriand, 
 thought proper to criticise his admirabh production 
 of Buonajwirte and the Bourbons/ as being a work 
 too strongly betray ing the feelings of the writer. They 
 would perhaps have written in colder blood, because 
 their eyes were then familiarized to the horrors they 
 saw incessantly renewed. But can the soul of a great 
 writer remain torpid, when liberty however fallacious 
 be the gleam dawns upon his unfortunate country? 
 Would Cicero and Demosthenes have remained torpid, 
 if they had been called upon to oppose, the one an "in 
 cendiary s crimes," and the other a tyrannical mon 
 arch s artifices and ambition? Yet these are trite 
 themes, to the schemes big with slaughter and rapine, 
 which were discussed in the French Chamber, April, 
 
 M. I)e Chateaubriand ww elected a member of the Jntittp in 1911, m 
 place of Chenier, a poet well known for the part he took in the French Rrvo- 
 loiKm. According to custom the recipient w* to deliver the euloginm of hi* 
 predecewor; hut the fnend* of Chewier knowing how mnch the memory of 
 the dreajied had to fear from the eloquence of Chuteaubriaod, ininted that 
 the speech of the Utter should be communicated to the I nstitate before it WM 
 delivered. It waa found little wilted to the memory of the deceased, or the 
 of the age, aod Chataaahriaad wan, according, blackballed. 
 
11EMA1XS LITERARY, &C. 
 
 1814. When the revolution was affected which den- 
 pitc its horrid excesses should not he regretted, for, as 
 Mr. Jefferson strongly observes, the "tree of liberty 
 must every half century he watered with the blood of 
 patriots" when all its solid advantages were reaped 
 when innovation began to be mistaken for improvement, 
 and reform to degenerate into extravagance the Po 
 litical Reflections " of M. De Chateaubriand bore re 
 ference only to the degree of rational, regulated liberty, 
 that might he enjoyed under the mild, and then icform- 
 *:d rule of the unfortunate Louis. 
 
 H\s Bunt ties of Christianity" is an enduring.mon- 
 um-eiit of bis sincerity of his truly pious fervor 
 and exulted Christian eloquence. Infidelity has never 
 been able to frame a plausible answer to it. He defin 
 itively lays the question of the truths of Christianity 
 on tfie shelf, not by unrolling the dusty parchments of 
 the Fathers to pick up evidence, nor by consulting 
 the mystical lore of the "divine doctors." He ex 
 hibits in bold relief its manifold beauties passing by 
 external evidences, he displays its attractive charms 
 infers that it is excellent, not because it is of divine 
 origin, but proves that it is of divine origin, because it 
 is lovely and of god report, and every way worthy of 
 the divinity, lie pursues with admirable success the 
 plan of the imaginative reasoner. 
 
 A poet in name, but a philosopher in- effect*, pursu 
 ing the same end by different means, he veils what 
 would have, otherwise, been harsh and displeasing in 
 the enticing form and feature of amusement. The one 
 appeals to reason alone, the other more forcibly addres 
 ses the judgment, aided by the influence of the pas 
 sions. 
 
 The former boldly commences its attack upon the 
 principles: the latter, by a circuitous and skilful delay, 
 first prepossesses the heart. The one, with the stern 
 voice of truth alone, forces conviction: the other 
 disdains not the assistance of harmonious measure. 
 
XS L1TEUARY, ic. 177 
 
 captivating imaginary, and all the tinsel and witchery 
 of fahle. The philosopher, bound down to facts, pursues 
 his course in a circumscribed and fore-ordained path: 
 the poet, with charter wide as the wild wind," ran 
 ges uncontrolled over the expanse of nature. Fiction 
 (says the Father of Criticism) teaches morality not by 
 dull and sententious maxims, not by reciting historically 
 what Aristides achieved or suffered, but by the un 
 bounded aid of allegory and imitation, more surely effects 
 its purjH>se. 
 
 TIte importance of poetry is eminently conspicuous 
 in its application to religion its subserviency to the 
 incense of adoration, and making man fit to hold con 
 verse with his Maker. This, indeed was its primal, 
 essential, and original oflice of destination: and this it 
 still so happily performs, that it elsewhere seems out 
 of character, as if intended for this holy purpose alone. 
 * Jn other instances poetry appears to want the assis 
 tance of art. but in this to shine forth in all its natural 
 splendor, or rather to be aiiimr^ed with that inspira 
 tion, which ou other occasions is rath? r spoken of than 
 felt. These observations arc remarkably exemplified 
 in I!K. Hebrew poetry, than which the human mind 
 can conceive of nothing more elevated, more beautiful, 
 or more imposing: in which the almost ineffable sub 
 limity of the subject is fully equalled by the energy of 
 the language, and the dignity of the style. If we 
 were to adduce an argument .to convince the mere 
 appellant to reason of the futility of his objections to 
 the inspiration of the sacred writers, we would point 
 him to the lofty strains of Isainh, whose Hips have 
 been touched with a living coal" from the ever- burn ing 
 altar of sacred inspiration. 
 
 Precisely such is the course of our author in this 
 his "Palmarium oj,ns." He intersperses amid much 
 learning, and apparently embodied research, the ad 
 vantages of music, sculpture, painting, eloquence, and 
 presents to his reader in nroner succession astute rea- 
 
REMAINS - LITEBAfcY, dc 
 
 soiling to convince his understanding pathetic senti 
 ments to enlist his sympathy lofty truths to arouse 
 his fervor awful retribution to awaken his fears, and 
 soothing consolations to encourage his hopes. In fine 
 for our remarks have extended beyond our nurpoae 
 few writers combine so many beauties, lo nervous 
 and original thinking he adds a brilliant imagination, 
 and the most picturesque coloring of language. To 
 abstruse speculations he lends an irresistible charm by 
 ingenious and easy illustrations, and has attained the 
 diilicult and rare felicity otiine htibfre punctum by 
 uniting the ut He cum ilnlcc. Few writers \ve recol 
 lect Addison alone in our language have succeeded in 
 combining literature with morals in reconciling sci 
 ence with religion in freeing the former from skepti 
 cism and the latter from bigotry and rendering the 
 union more delightful by splendor of imagery and rich 
 ness of illustration from both sources, making them 
 stand mutually supporting and suppoited. That he 
 occasionally mistakes declamation for argument falls 
 into extravagancies of thought ard language and uses 
 reasonings more specious than solid we are forced to 
 admit. This is the result of a too vivid imagination* 
 and who would not concur with Soume Jenyna 
 
 "If the soaring spirit flow 
 Hcyond where prudence fears to go: 
 These errors are of nobler kind 
 Than beauties of a barren mind?" 
 
 IDENTITY OF JUNIUS.* 
 
 The Southern Review, in a late article, in which 
 the theory of Dr. Waterhouse is examined at large, 
 ventures upon one of its own, w ith regard to the iden- 
 
 ll r o/<rA0Mr Juntu._"An essay on Junius and hit Letlera: embro 
 il^ a sketch of the life and character of William Pitt. Earl of Chatham, and 
 
REMAINS LITERARY, &C. l?S 
 
 1itv of Junius, to which we propose giving a moment ?* 
 consideration; though, for some time back, we have 
 been disposed to look upon any inquiry into the author 
 ship of these letters, as productive of gratuitous and 
 fruitless controvcnsy. Not that the discovery may not 
 he of utility in many respects, but because until their 
 patcruity be avowed, discovery is hopeless. It may 
 afford, at the present instance, a theme for fine writing, 
 plausible guesses, and acute reasoning. To estimate 
 the earnestness aud zeal, with which the enquiry has 
 been prosecuted, we need only reflect, that, to each of 
 the following list of distinguished men, has the honor 
 of its authorship been attributed, and that labored 
 efforts have been made to support the claims of most 
 of them: John Home Toohe. I^ord Sackrille. Sir 
 P/n/i/j Francis, ff m. Gerard Hamilton, Henry Flood, 
 Dr. Johnson, Edmund Burke, Chatham, G/orrr, 
 flyer, Butler, Jluburtvn and flr Lolint. 
 
 We have ever thought ourselves that Home Tooke 
 was the author of these letters. External and circum 
 stantial evidence are against it, but the proofs afforded 
 by these letters themselves arc neither few, nor insig 
 nificant. The lofty style, pointed invective, proud 
 consciousness of superiority, and familiarity with Clas 
 sical lore, evinced by Junius. \\AS ever fully within the 
 reach, and characteristic of John Home. The fact of 
 his transfixing himself with his own poisoned dart, f-nd 
 in a manner so unsparing, presents a singular distor 
 tion of disposition; but the severity of the attack was 
 perhaps necessary to insure concealment, and may 
 only present one of those singular whims, or deep laid 
 schemes, both of which form a part of his eccentric 
 character. Indeed, we might make use of all our 
 Reviewer s general argument-; in support of our nomi 
 nation. Dr. Waterhouse (the writer under the ordeal 
 
 memoir* of certain other dtftipgiTvhed individual*: with reflections historical. 
 personal, and political, relating to the affair* of Great Britain aad America, from 
 1763 to 1785. By Benjamin YVatcrfoonae, M. !>., member of wverai Medi 
 cal, Philosophical, and LiUrary ocieti ia Ewop* and America." 
 
180 REMAINS LITKRAEY, &C. 
 
 of our critic) nominates the elder Lord Chatham as the 
 author of Junius. We think our it viewer has demo 
 lished the claim of his lordship with great ability. He 
 has proved by argument clear, and illustration conclu 
 sive, by internal and external evidence, and by a just 
 analysis of Chatham s mind, his utter incapacity for the 
 task. Indeed, we can hardly conceive an hypothesis 
 more monstrous. The claim of Sir Philip Francis is 
 also discussed by our critic, and satisfactori y laid on 
 the shelf. The pretensions of the Ha rone t however, 
 hud been previously settled by Mr. Jeffrey, who upon 
 the first appearance of the ingenious work (JttttMff 
 Identified) of W. Taylor, shattered at a blow his plau 
 sible deductions. Our reviewer, after dismissing those 
 claims, and treating his readers to some truly acute and 
 original remarks upon the character of Junius style. 
 sentiment) and illustrations, proceeds to oiler his own 
 candidate for the prize. We read this essay with a 
 mixed pleasure until we came to this hypothesis. And 
 what is it? That Junius was the Rev. Philip Francis, 
 1). 1). translator of Demosthenes and Horace. To us 
 the idea is fraught with improbabilities, nor do we think 
 our reviewer is very strong in the faith. If Dr. Wa- 
 terhousc s nomination is an anomaly, this is the anomaly 
 of anomalies. Our objections to the reasons adduced 
 by our reviewer are as numerous as the reasons them 
 selves. His grounds are so vague and inconclusive, 
 th;t they might he transferred to a score of writers 
 \Uiom we could name. The style of Junius (says he) 
 fr (jiiently resembles that of Demosthenes. Does it 
 therefore resemble that of Dr. Philip Francis? Just 
 the reverse. Dr. Franris" style was correct, some 
 what polished, and always five from inaccuracies, but 
 without point, or great vigor. The style of Junius is 
 often abrupt, sometimes careless, and always abounding 
 in new and striking illustrations. In relation to the 
 supposed resemblance of hand-writing, we know 
 nothing; but of all evidence, we deem it the weakest. 
 
REMAINS LITERARY, &C. 181 
 
 it deprives the author of the most ordinary discretion 
 and foresight. Besides, Dr. Francis, though the trans 
 lator of Horace and Demosthenes, possessed not the 
 scholarship of Junius that intimacy with the classics 
 without servility to their manner that spirit of the 
 ancients thoroughly engrafted with the modern that 
 elegant tact, which enabled him to mould antique 
 knowledge to his purpose, without the appearance of 
 pedantry. 
 
 Dr. Francis was a translator Junius a trausfuscr 
 of classical ideas. He made thrm his own. His work 
 is not Demosthenean. It is precisely what Cicero 
 would have written in English. Again, as a political 
 writer Dr. Francis is unknown. The intimacy with 
 men and measures, the familiarity with courts, their 
 customs, etiquette, and foibles, which give no small 
 attraction to these letters, were totally out of his line. 
 Finally, Dr. Francis was a divine, and a good man. and 
 consequently incapable of the insincerity, distortion of 
 language from its original meaning, malevolent delight 
 in the agony of his victims, virulent invective, and 
 evident impiety, which plainly appear favorite recrea 
 tions with the author of Junius. These letters are de 
 cidedly the finest model of writing in that style, com 
 bining ease and elegance, with terseness and poignancy. 
 But we make a special protcstando against his heartless 
 causticity, his unsparing anathemas, his revengeful 
 spirit, his loose allusions to the Deity, and undoubted 
 disregard of moral restraint. Not content with point 
 ing his arrows with ridicule, he dipped them in 
 poison. 
 
182 HEMAIX3 L1TKKAUV 
 
 DEFENCE OF POETRY. 
 
 It has become quite a fashion among modem writers 
 to offer a Defence of Poetry and the poetical tempe 
 rament, as if, in fact, there existed any such necessity. 
 To those courts, in which, the fine arts," the wan 
 derings of old song, and those sweet abstractions which 
 could deify the solemn groves and the secluded forests, 
 with "grave and glorious shapes/ are held obnoxious 
 and profane, the muse has always refused to concede 
 jurisdiction; and, to all others, where is the necessity 
 for defence. There is however, such a disposition, at 
 all times to couple the use with the abuse the prosti 
 tution with the profession, that modern criticism, 
 mistaking ii; some sort the true argument, has taken up 
 the cause of one, who, in reality, needs no defender. 
 Sir Philip Sydney s beautiful essay, has furnished the 
 text book for one of these, who, in a recent issue of the 
 North American Review, has put forth an article upon 
 the labor of this brave knight, whose whole life has 
 been quaintly described as "Poetry put in action." 
 The article to which we now refer is a chaste and ra 
 ther eloquent essay, occasionally vague, wandering, 
 inconclusive, and sometimes commonplace: but pro 
 ving in elegant language, that all the early science, 
 both sacred and profane, of which the world is possess 
 ed, and which constitutes the fund, from which suc 
 cessive speculators have invariably borrowed, has been 
 deposited in the treasury of the muses. That the 
 only mode of instruction adapted to human nature in 
 an uncivilized state, when the knowledge of letters is 
 little diffused, must be that in the language of Bishop 
 JLowth which is calculated to captivate the ear and 
 passions, and which assists the memory by metre, 
 which is not delivered for after-contemplation, but is 
 immediately infused into the mind and heart. So 
 faithful a preservative of truth is the rhythm of verse, 
 
fcEfoAINS LITERVrtY, &t . 183 
 
 (fiat what is invariably augmented, changed, corrupted 
 or interpolated in prose, may continue for ages in me 
 tre, without material variations or even a change in 
 obsolete phraseology. 
 
 To stand amid the works of the wonderful architect 
 as their admiring interpreter: to look around, not 
 with the unconscious gaze of mere animal sensation: 
 but to comprehend in their qualities and uses, the 
 things we behold, the air, the sunshine, the lightning, 
 the storm, to see all things rising in their order, and 
 moving in their harmony: to stand, as did the first 
 man, and call by their names *all things that" pass be" 
 fore us, is to take one of the noblest and happiest po 
 sitions on earth, and fittest too for the Lord of this low 
 er creation. 
 
 There are few pleasures, unconnected with labor, 
 in which men can indulge without making inroads 
 upon virtue. Few can be at the same time unoccu 
 pied and innocent. To extend the sphere of our un- 
 contaminated enjoyments, and ensure a relaxation, 
 which, while it unbends the mind, detracts nothing 
 from the heart, there is, perhaps, no surer method 
 than to cultivate the pure wanderings of the fancy. 
 The mind awakens to a new existence, and scenes be 
 fore noticed (if at all) with indifference, are gilded by 
 its influence with all the varying hues of beauty, and 
 disclose unnumbered charms before invisible. 
 
 The mind cannot be always busy, but must sometimes 
 relax itself from the labor of reflection. The thirst 
 after knowledge cannot always subsist without satiety 
 or weariness: and there is not more bountiful provision 
 for the recovery of the ardor of enquir . than the ten 
 dency of the mind to fly from the pursuits of bustling 
 life to combine the discordant sources of happiness 
 and solace itself in the boundless riot of fancied felicity. 
 
 In fields of air she writes her name, 
 And treads the chambers of the sky: 
 She reads the stars and grasps the flamcy 
 
1&4 nEMAINS LITERARY, &C. 
 
 That quivers round the throne on high. 
 In war renowned, in peace sublime- 
 She moves in greatness and in grace; 
 Her power subduing space and time, 
 Links realm to realm, and race to race. 
 
 lliere is no heart so seared by worldly pursuits 
 no understanding so uncultivated no bosom so steeled 
 by the grovelling things of earth, as to be incapable, at 
 certain moments, "short though they be, and far be 
 tween" of enjoying th..t divine emotion, which steals 
 the soul from the unworthy anxieties of the world and 
 makes it "hold converse with the gods." 
 
 We cannot forbear, at times, to turn with a sicken- 
 ening feeling from the cheerless pursuits of bustling life 
 and the heartless, all-ahsorbiug interest of gain, to 
 refresh the eye with the never-fading verdure of a 
 golden age, and drink the living waters that gush from 
 the fountain of inspiration perennial helicon the sa 
 cred retreat of the muses! The poet is the pioneer of 
 improvement. Before science is advanced and civili 
 zation diffused, the productions of the bard are com- 
 plete requiring not the aid of learning to paint scenes 
 Jamiliar to his childhood the characters wUh whom he 
 had acted and events in which himself has borne a 
 part % Thus, he is the first to oiler the fruits of his ge 
 nius, and foremost in the career of those arts, destined 
 to polish his uncivilized countrymen. Unaided at an 
 early age, by learning, the situation of the poet more 
 than compensates this defect. The herald ol* events 
 passing before him, or of tradition equally believed 
 not recalling the sentiment, and manners of a remote 
 and obscure age, he requires not the admonition of the 
 critic, to reflect upon "the ideas and expressions suited 
 to his characters. The language of feeling flows spon 
 taneously from the movements of his own heart, and he 
 has no occasion to copy. Imitation misleads not his 
 judgment, nor feud s his imagination, he delivers 
 sentiments dictated by nature, for lie has no other pre- 
 
REMAINS L1TRKARY, &C. 13.5 
 
 ceptor. His sentiments flow as if from inspiration, 
 not invention: no effort is visible, but be is hurried on 
 by the mere impulse of instinct. Such is the simple, 
 yet lofty, lay of the early bard, enjoying licence denied 
 to the poet of after times. 
 
 We cannot better conclude our crude strictures, 
 which have extended beyond our original intention, 
 than by a quotation from the noblest writgr in our lan 
 guage the illustrious founder of the inductive philoso 
 phy. The summary which this bold and original writer 
 makes on this subject is so masterly, that we shall be 
 .surprised, if it does not go far to answer the cavils of 
 those, who have objected to poetry, that it gives wrong 
 views and excites false expectations of life peoples 
 the mind with shadows and illusions and builds up 
 imagination on the ruins of wisdom: 
 
 "Poetry (says he) seems to be raised altogether from a 
 noble foundation, which makes mur i for the dignity of man s 
 nature. For secinc; this insensible world is in dignity infe 
 rior to the human soul, poetry setms to endow our nature 
 with that which history denies: and to give him satisfaction 
 to the mind, with at least the shadow of things, where the 
 substance cannot be obtained. For, if the matter bo tho 
 roughly considered, a strong argument may be drawn from 
 poetry, that a more stately greatness of thing?, a more per 
 fect order, and a more beautiful variety, delights the soul of 
 man, than any way can be found in nature since the fall. 
 Wherefore, seeing the acts and events, which are the subjects 
 of true history, are not of that amplitude to content .he mind 
 of man; poetry is at hand to feign acts more heroical. Be 
 cause true history reports the success of business not propor 
 tionable to the merit of virtues and vices; poetry corrects it, 
 and presents event? and fortunes according to deserts, and 
 according to the law of Providence. Because true history, 
 through the frequent satiety and similitude of things, works a 
 distaste and misprison in the mind of mtn; poesy cheereth 
 tnd refresheth the soul, chanting things rare, and Ysrious, 
 nd full of vicissitudes." 
 
 24 
 
186. KKMAIN8 L1TKRA.RT, &.C. 
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The scventli article of a late Southern Review, is 
 
 devoted to the claims of American Letters, and fur 
 
 nishes a sensible and judicious review of the preten 
 
 sions to immortality ottered in behalf of sundry score of 
 
 native poetical worthies, by one Mr. Samuel Kettcll. 
 
 The reviewer justly observes, "we come to bury Cu-sar, 
 
 not to praise him" and he has effectually done so. 
 
 We object, however, to the modus opera ml i. In dis 
 
 missing them to the shades, he has unnecessarily stop 
 
 ped them on their already downward course thither: 
 
 and, in consigning them to deserved oblivion, has given 
 
 them by his strictures a momentary character, which 
 
 they do not merit, and would not, otherwise, have o!>- 
 
 tained. These mental contortions bear every murk of 
 
 having been manufactured in the Dutchman s mill for 
 
 making poetry* or, at least, upon the principlL* laid 
 
 down ! the "Bourgeois Genti/hommc" "tout cv q\d 
 
 n\ st pas prose est wrs" all that is n^t prose is poetry. 
 
 We do not intend by this sweeping anathema, that the 
 
 whole body of poetry contained in these volumes is o;i 
 
 a par, and obnoxious to indiscriminate censure. Sev 
 
 eral pieces S prague s Ode, for example would adorn 
 
 English liurature in its best day. But a vast majority 
 
 of the selections, we regret to say, will be read when 
 
 Homer and Virjril are forgotten, but not till then. 
 
 Jain satis Mpunjuc. We will dismiss the subject 
 
 w ! h a few general remarks upon the theme of the re- 
 
 The literature of America resembles her soil much 
 of it is wild aiid uncultivated. The calls of necessity 
 have hitherto principally engrossed our efforts those 
 of refinement are but now be.crinning to be heard. At 
 no period has cur reputation for literature stood higher. 
 both at home and abroad. We have advanced with 
 no faltering step but the ground untrod is infinite. 
 
UDIAINS L1TKKARY, &C. UiT 
 
 What we have already achieved furnishes ground for 
 hope, but none for complacency is an incentive to 
 action* but no excuse for supine ness. We cannot but 
 believe, that the circumstance which distinguishes us 
 from every other people who have created a literature 
 of their own. our community of hiitgitaecc irith an 
 old nation has retarded, and will, for a long time, con 
 tinue to impede, our native original productions. The 
 Augustan age of English Literature is past her bol 
 dest conceptions arc exhausted every dejwrtmcnt has 
 been prc-occupied and we are left to imitate. This 
 is our danger. Let this once become our besetting 
 sin* " and we arc thrown a century in the rear. Let 
 us (scape it, and we gain a century in advance. The 
 cant of worn-out themes of the impossibility of no 
 veltyof the sameness of human nature- of exhausted 
 well springs we give to the winds as idle and unmean 
 ing verbiage. It is the oflice of exalted minds 
 to discover new sources of pleasure to vary the 
 attitudes of human passions to expand, to trans 
 pose, to illustrate, and adorn old thoughts, and 
 mark them with their own character and impress. An 
 Orphic verse produced the Illiad HcsiocFs meagre 
 "Works and Days begot the Georgic a night thought 
 engendered the Paradise Lost. Upon such materials 
 does genius operate from such sear and withered 
 stems docs she weave her fairest garlands! It must 
 strike every one, of even superficial observation, that 
 ]K)ctry has latterly lost much of the ground it once held 
 in public estimation. The world is becoming more 
 bustling- --more practical- --more alive to the sensible 
 than the artherial to matter than to mind. In place 
 of the flowing numbers of the muse, v;e find the num 
 bers of the discount and interest table: in lieu of the 
 soft phrases of rhetoric, we find rough specimens of 
 geology: instead of .logic, we find chemistry: in 
 place ot metaphysics, we find political economy. To 
 rouse this apathy, and excite the flagging interest of 
 
188 *E1IA1NS LITERARY, &C, 
 
 the world, our poets have resorted to monstrous effort* 
 of fiction to the incredible in place of the sublime- 
 to abrupt hraseology and ostentatious libertinism. 
 They have in part succeeded, but the "gain" has been 
 "exceeding loss/ They have insured present noto 
 riety and profit, but risked future oblivion. Their 
 error is, to us, obvious. They have not written for 
 the people. They have repeated usque ad nauseam 
 the thread-bare exploits of oft sung heroes they have 
 rung the changes upon old themes, without inventing 
 new they have followed, not preceded, public opin 
 ion- they have adopted the creed of the infidel Sha- 
 led "Aleph is god of the hills, but not of the vallies," 
 and have, accordingly, deserted the cottage of nature 
 for the palace of art. This is a fault, not of poetry, 
 but of its professors. They alone are answerable for 
 the disrepute of their art. 
 
 FLORAL EMBLEMS. 
 
 "These flow rs do have a meaning, 
 "They do speak." 
 
 In Berkley s Romance of Gaudentio Di Lucca,* 
 embodied in the beautiful tale of Bevilla, we have the 
 Utopia of the writer, in the customs of the simple, un 
 sophisticated Mezzoranians. These usages are many 
 of them beautiful, and that in relation to declarations 
 of love, certainly much more simple, expeditious and 
 poetical, than the business-like method of modern times; 
 three considerations, (simplicity, despatch, and poetic 
 beauty) which should materially weigh even with the 
 votaries of the Modern cupid cupid-t/y who even 
 now exclaim with the old extravaganza 
 
 "Ye Gods! annihilate both time and space, 4 
 "And make two lovers happy!" 
 Se at page 203 of ihu Romance. 
 
KEMAINS LITLKARY, Ac. 189 
 
 In Mezzorania, gallants made professions of attach 
 ment, not by artificial words, but by natural flowers. 
 The lover commenced the scigc upon the citadel of his 
 lady love s heart by the offer of a Rosebud the em 
 blem of concealed affection* just budding into existence. 
 If she did not wish him immediately *killcd by the 
 frowning wrinkle of her brow," if she did not aim to 
 * -crush young affection s budding flower" and to cast 
 the pilgrim of love into Bunyan s "slough of despond, 
 there, like Jeremiah of old, to "waste his days in me 
 lancholy sighs" she graciously accepted and wore the 
 bud. When time had increased his affection for in 
 Mezzorania, it is supposed, that time increases affec 
 tion for those that deserve it the lover presented a 
 half-blown rose, the token of expanding attachment: 
 and, after this also was graciously accepted, he came, 
 we may suppose, not very long afterwards, with a full 
 blown rose, the emblem of mature affection. At this 
 juncture the Mezzoranian belles had the privilege of 
 pausing, ere they crossed the rubicon; though, it is 
 said, that those who were suspected of trifling with the 
 mystery of Flora s kingdom, and of enticing hapless 
 youth to this last and perilous category, with the se 
 cret intention of snapping the chord of affection of 
 letting love swing from its moorings of causing hope 
 to die on the altar so lately erected in vulgar par 
 lance cf kicking a suitor were debarred, by the 
 laws of the island, from receiving or presenting a flower 
 (for Mezzorania had its bissextile) through the "long 
 space of six revolving years." We forgot to mention, 
 that the ladies, who accepted these full-blown flowers, 
 and wore them, were looked upon amongst the simple 
 Mezzoranians as engaged for life: nor did the gentle 
 men, when they offered their flowers, make one single 
 vow or protestation of eternal love, yet they were be 
 lieved, and deserved, it is said, to be believed. 
 
 A fair Florist begs of us a dictionary of Botanical 
 Emblems, and we have half a mind to oblige her; but 
 
100 Ill MAIXS UTEUAUY, kc. 
 
 though in our early days we have ventured stealthily 
 to the waters of Castaly, we have grown stmd of late, 
 ami are now strict followers in the train" of Themis, 
 who, as it is well known, will as little sanction any at 
 tention to her sister Calliope, as permit of any flirtation 
 with the nymphs of Flora. We have long since 
 quit the company of the muses, umierrating the value 
 of their acquaintance, from the simple reason, perhaps, 
 that we have never, at any period, heen permitted to 
 ho.ist of any great share of their intimacy. To look 
 for lines the re fore, by which to illustrate AY/JT.V, is an 
 awkward difficulty, hut, at a season, like this, when the 
 flowers are in hloom ahout us, and the glad watei-s glit 
 ter in the sun, there is no apology, and we proceed 
 therefore to gather a wreath of Jlnwry and fanciful 
 communion, finding lor capricious love, a rich form of 
 speech in the language of flowers. Should some of our 
 botanical terms strike the learned reader as rather no 
 vel, it is not our concern. Let him take the garden 
 as fie finds it, and not look tSie "gift horse in the mouth. v 
 We have, it is true, taken some liberties with Linnxus, 
 all of which we shall answer for in another place and 
 season. 
 
 LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
 
 "Then gather a wreath from your garden bowers, 
 "And tell the wish of your heart in flowers." 
 
 Cypress. Cupremsus acmjjervireiis. G ricf 
 
 "The cypress that darkly shades the grave. 
 
 "Is sorrow that mourns her bitter lot/- Percival. 
 
 Forget me not. Ptntandria Dyginia. Remembrance. 
 
 "And faith, that a thousand ills can brave, 
 
 "Speaks in thy (hluc) leaves, forget me not." Per. 
 
 Evergreen. Graphulhun. Unchanging affection, 
 "When I love thec not, chaos is come again." Shaks. 
 Dogwood. Cornus Florida. Undeserved love, 
 
 "Tho* mean, false and cruel, 
 
4 
 REMAINS I.ITRHAUY, dr. 191 
 
 Anil bnsc .n thou art, 
 
 Yet I cannot forgot thce, 
 
 Thou lord of my heart." Pcrciva/. 
 
 Anemone. Ilur.ihle attachment. 
 
 "The silent, soft, and humble heart 
 
 "In the violet s hidden sweetness, breathes/ Per. 
 
 Evergreen. Cardinalis. Ever thine. 
 "Ar.d the tender smil that cannot part 
 "A twine of evergreen fondly wreathes." Per. 
 
 Bay. JUmrti*. Lofty love. 
 
 "I could not love thce, dear, so much, 
 "Loved 1 not honor more." 
 
 Columbine. ---/ //r/wnVi Del. Win or die. 
 "Spur on. Sir Knight, your Lady dear 
 "Imprisoned lies in dungeon drear. Sir Launeclot. 
 
 Ambrosia.---. ?, murilhna. Love returned.* 
 "She was beloved, she loved." Shakspcare. 
 
 Amaryllis.---. Iformosissima. Splendid beauty.* 
 With looks too bright and beautiful tor such a world AS this. 
 
 Anemone. Windflower. Expectation.* 
 
 "For him she breathes the silent sigh forlorn, 
 "Each setting day, for him each rising morn." Dar. 
 
 Morning Glory. Convolvulus. Uncertainty. 
 
 Hope choered his breast with morning beam, 
 Hut evening s cloud dispell d the dream. 
 
 Catchfly. l^cari. Love s ambush. 
 
 "Killed by the frowning lightning of her eye." Shaki. 
 
 Dahlia. Dahlia superjlua. Happy love.* 
 
 "To feel that we adore, &.:. 
 
 To such refined excess, 
 
 Weqote,fri memory ,Mi.Wirt f grtrfl compilation , Flora i Dictionary. 
 
192 MKMA1XS LITERARY, Ac 
 
 That though the heart would break with more, * 
 It could not do with less." Moore. 
 
 Everlasting.- Gnafihalium. Never ceasing remem 
 brances.* 
 
 "So turns the impatient needle to the pole, 
 
 "Though mountains rise between and oceans roll." Darwin. 
 
 Everlasting ye*. Lathy r tut latifolia. An appointed 
 
 meeting.* 
 
 "Lovers break not hours, except it be to come before their 
 time." Shakspeare. 
 
 Eglantine. Rosa rubiginosa! I wound to heal.* 
 
 "Now show the wound mine eyes have made in thee." Shale. 
 
 Foxglove.-- -Digitalis. A wish. 
 
 "0, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch 
 that cheek." Shakspeare. 
 
 Cotton ftovter.Gossypium. Modern love. 
 
 Tis not the pouting lip of roseate dye, 
 
 Nor breasts, where all the loves delighted rove; 
 Nor the blue languish of the speaking eye, 
 
 That in my bosom raisM the flame of love. 
 Thy lip, and breast, and eye, I much admire, 
 
 But charms less transient rob my soul of rest 
 Thy gold, thy guineas, set my heart on fire; 
 
 I long to rummage thy papa s old chest. 
 
 Myrtle. Communis Myrtus. Constancy. 
 
 "Yes it was love," c. Byron. 
 Myrtle. Mursint Normionia. Innocence. 
 "Thy myrtle bud, white-robed in innocence." Hughta. 
 
 Rosemary. Ros Marinus. Unhappy love. 
 "Absence is death of love." Shakspeare. 
 
 Sun Dew. Dioncea Muscipula. Attraction. 
 "Fall not in love!" 
 
 W quote, from maaiory, Mrs. Wirt i graceful compilation, "Flow/i Di^ 
 uoaary." 
 
RERUNS LITEKARY, &C. 193 
 
 China Aster. Aster Chinirnsis. Hesitation 
 "Why that downcast look, lassie, 
 Why that cheek of changeful hue, 
 Why that hand withdrawn, lassie, 
 When thy lover dares to woo." Mftlen. 
 
 Wild Tulip. 7nlipa fiylvestris. Indifference. 
 
 And coldness steel thai heart and brow, 
 That passion swayed before." 
 
 Lotos. Lo tot. Aspiring love. 
 
 "That I should love a bright particular stir, 
 And think to wed it." Shaktpcare 
 
 Wind flower. .dnemonr. The modern Cupid. 
 
 "He rests on violet banks no languid limb 
 The Hunk of England is the hank for him; 
 Nor bull nor lion he triumphant rides, 
 Hut bullion is the golJcn beast he guides, 
 Lord of the Treasury, M aster of the Mint, 
 This is our Cupid ladies take the hint: 
 In short t money -loving god is he, 
 Called by his votaries Cupidity." 
 
 Blue Bcfl. Lo/f/b/to. Female Pedantry. 
 
 "Said Nature one day, "For the peace of mankind 
 Let women and men have -heir kingdom apart; 
 To man I assign the cold regions of mind, 
 To woman the sunny domain of the heart." 
 The kingdom of hearts, then is woman s sole share, 
 Oh! unharness your owl, and depend on your dove! 
 There is learning enough in the world and to spare, 
 Hut Flora, my dear, there s too little of love!" 
 
 Beauty s Slipper. CipHpcdium. Fastidious beauty. 
 "Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, &c." Shales. 
 
 Sensitive plant.--. Mimosa. Capriciousness. 
 "Lost w the Jcar delight of giving pain." 
 
 Passion Flower. JVigcUa. Beware. 
 "Fall not in Jove, dear girls be wire!" 
 25 
 
194 REMAINS LITEUAKY, 4c 
 
 Hollyhock. Jlka rosa. Honorable love. 
 "Yes, by my hopes of Heaven, I ll be 
 With honor thine, or lost to thee!" 
 
 LoveTies-blecding.---r0/m//</rw. Unanswered love 
 
 "He is gone! he is gone! 
 Like the leaf from the tree, 
 Or the down that i.s blown 
 Hy the wind o er the lea. 
 He is fled the lifijht hearted 1 
 Vet a tear must have started 
 In his eye, when he parted 
 From lovc-slrickcu me!" 
 
 Iris. Iris. Farewell! 
 
 "Farewell, a long farewJl to" love, to flowers, and Flora. 
 
 VITALITY OF LETTERS. 
 
 It has been said that the most brilliant monuments of 
 Literature have been coeval with the downfall, or, at 
 least , the decay 9 of national greatness. Impartial Histo 
 ry does not corroborate the assertion. We deny that 
 a flourishing state of arts is an invariable contemporary 
 of national decline, and that it is like the final song of 
 Hie bird of classical fame, the last expiring effort of 
 Nature to retain existence. We do not consider Lite 
 rature as a mere source of pleasure to the intellectual vo 
 luptuary but as destined to subserve more exalted pur 
 poses. We consider it not as a mere object of luxury; 
 but as exalting the views, enlarging the moral vision, and 
 increasing the intellectual powers oi the human race. 
 
 The student loves to linger "on those scenes of tran 
 quil refinement, when the profession of arms has yield 
 ed to the study of letters; and the rough features of 
 war have been soiVned by the milder influence of the 
 imagination. It is more pleasing to dwell upon the les- 
 
UEMA1NS LITKUAKY, c\(. 19.) 
 
 sons of Aristotle, than on the conquests of Alexander: 
 upon the Eloquence of Pericles, and the History of 
 Thueydidcs, th:ui the battles which they fought, or the 
 victories which they gained. The Augustan age of 
 Rome has obscured the conquests of her Scipios; and 
 among their descendants the names of her heroes are 
 forgotten, while the literary splendor of the House of 
 Medici still illumines the world. The martial fame of 
 Essex is heard no more, but the gloiy of Spencer and 
 Shakspearc are brighter than ever. The ambitious 
 plans of Louis XIV. arc forgotten, while his Corncillc, 
 his Racine IMH! his Moleire. continue the pride of 
 France. Marlborough and Blenheim, are names sound 
 ing only at intervals; but those of Dryden, Addison, and 
 Pope, will be forever repeated with delight. And 
 may NVC not predict triumphs to America also in the 
 field of learning? I answer we may. The vital ali 
 ment of exalted excellence the r^oral power of our 
 freedom of institutions can e fleet more than all the coin 
 cidence of causes which favoured "living (1 recce. ?? 
 Happily for America she has fully felt, that, whatever 
 adorns man- ^rs, imparts vigour to the mind, or nerves 
 the aiuor of the character, owes its existence to Educa 
 tion. With this persuasion much she has performed: 
 but the field untrod is infinite. For never can our 
 country be based upon an imperishable foundation, un 
 til LIIU.RTY and LF.TTKKS, be her chosen Motto. In 
 the meantime, she has much to undertake much to ex 
 ecute. Her labours arc manifold, for as yet, we shnmc 
 to say, notwithstanding our unprecedented progress in 
 the art. and elegancies of refined life, Literature, na 
 tive and original, still too much resembles the "desert 
 Rose;- and we are still too much inclined to regard 
 the apparently iinfirwlnrtirc efforts of rhetoric and 
 song, as the satirist did the fad oil relics of the Grecian 
 beautv mere bones! 
 
196 REMAINS LITERARY, &t . 
 
 JEREMY BENTHAM. 
 
 The last English papers announce the death of Jere 
 my Bentham, Esq. one of the most celebrated, as well 
 as" mot* eccentric, men of the age. He was a high- 
 toned latitudinarian, radical reformer, ever wedded to 
 some favorite theory, and regardless of difficulties. 
 No restraints of hazard incurred, no calculations of 
 consequences, were to he regarded. Neither existing 
 institutions, nor established prejudices, nor habiu hal 
 lowed by time, nor even the unalterable nature of 
 things, were permitted to obstruct any theoretic and 
 abstract suggestion of his mind. All vested interest 
 al! existing systems all actual present palpable good 
 must be sacrificed without compromise to a favorite 
 general principle. It was the singular infelicity of this 
 remarkable man, to prejudice every cause he under- 
 ti <;!; to advance. With untiring zeal, sincerity unini- 
 j; IL liable, incredible mental and bodily endurance, of 
 grtat versatility of talent, and equal self-confidence, he 
 was confessedly, pre-eminently, the most unfit of all the 
 distinguished men of his party, to promote the cause 
 he may have espoused. He always cooled the ardor 
 of friends, and by his extravagancies caused division in 
 theii* ranks: he was apt to add warmth to enemies, and 
 by his violence and ul truism* give them recruits from 
 among the timid, the wavering, and the neutral of his 
 own nide. If he stooped to act with a party, his ser 
 vices were accepted, hut he was not a partner in the 
 ulterior counsels of its leaders. Of such powerful 
 talents, as to command their respect, and have his ser 
 vices courted, but of too little discretion to be entrusted 
 with the post of active exertion. Too visionary to be 
 followed; too uucalculating to lead; too independent 
 to be controlled; too wedded to the perfect, to acqui 
 esce in the practical and practicable. He would lis 
 ten to no offer of compromise, lie would attend to no 
 
REMAINS UTKRARY. &C . 197 
 
 obstacles, he respected no prejudices, however hon 
 est, no habit>. however deep-rooted, no season, 
 however unpropitious. Too inaccessible to concili- 
 Ute too headlong to yield even unimportant conces 
 sions too violent to admit the possibility of honest 
 error he seemed to forget the infirmity of our nature. 
 With all his vast acquirements, and singularly acute 
 cast of mind, he was as little qualified for a sound 
 statesman, as the moon- struck Plato: he required to 
 be first "unsphered." We have never acknowledged 
 the force of the objections agninst him which implied 
 inconsistency. We only charge- him with an over 
 weening love of system-making extravagant the 
 orizing, and headlong zeal with running counter to 
 our dearest hopes prejudices, if lie will. His vir 
 tues, on the other hand, were many and sterling. he 
 was fearless, zealous, and often irrewstibie in the cause 
 of truth, he saw the best, though he sometimes wan 
 dered from, and more often, overstepped, the path. 
 But we pause it is not for us to sum up the dreart 
 account and farther still to estimate the issue. 
 
 **** 
 
 MUTATIONS OF LETTERS. 
 
 Glancing, a day or two ago, for the hundredth time, 
 over that little volume of condensed wisdom, which goes 
 by the name of Bacon s Essays, we were led to reflect 
 upon the many mutations of letters since the time of 
 that illustrious writer. 
 
 If we enter into a comparison of the literature of the 
 present, and even of the last century, with that of the 
 age of Hooker and Taylor, we shall find infinitely less 
 vigor and originality, more polish and refinement. In 
 the one, the fault is a subdued coldness, or the oppo 
 site extreme, fantastic extravagance, faultier medi- 
 
198 KI1MA1XS LITKKAUV, & . 
 
 ocrity and interminable transcript. In the other, 
 rough, ungainly strength, untutored energy, and unre- 
 -trained, unequal eflbrts. In seeking to avoid the 
 clownish riiggedness of our nervous ancestors, we have 
 adopted a meretricious refinement, and courtier-like 
 effeminacy. In correcting their occasional vwguenesse* 
 of phraseology, we have pruned and engrafted, until 
 the language is weakened and its original stock almost 
 extinct. The cause of this want of independence and 
 comprehensiveness of thought, this meagrencxs of in- 
 tellect ostensibly atoned for by an apparently chaste 
 and simple, after the elaborate style, which so much 
 infected Queen Anne s wits, and which the present age 
 has not yet shaken ofl is not entirely obvious. It ex 
 tended equally to poetry and prose in the former we 
 have made an essential alteration, whether for the bet 
 ter or not, we shall see in time. 
 
 That the prevalence of French manners, which then 
 began to exist the estimation in which their author* 
 stood the galaxy of wit which adorned the French 
 rourt and the imbecile imitation engendered bv the 
 patronage of Charles II. were concurrent causes of no 
 small influence, cannot be doubted by anv one, who 
 has dabbled in the history of that day." England had 
 just recovered from the stern rule and rigid fanaticism 
 of the Republicans, the spirits of her people felt re 
 lieved from a gloomy pressure, and gave free and 
 unrestrained vent to their vivacity, which impercepti 
 bly tinged her writers, and gave tone a.id character to 
 her literature. No one who is familiar uith the pri 
 vate and literary annals of the time can be ignorant of 
 thedifliculty ,n the way of escaping this infection. 
 
 Another cause, and one to which we attach no little 
 importance, is that from this era we date the origin of 
 English rri/iw,,,. We do not mean to sav. that 
 when critics flourish, a sound, original, healthv litera 
 ture cannot exist. We know the contrary. We e<- 
 cm the ofhcc of criticism much higher than the cap- 
 
REMAINS UTKRAKY, &C. 199 
 
 tFous art, which those liave rt presented it to be, \vho 
 have writhed under its well deserved lashings. 
 
 But we mean to give tin*, and the events which 
 engendered it, as no small cause for the obviously dif- 
 ft rent features, which characterise the age of Hooker 
 and Barlow, fro n that of Addison and Swift. As the 
 multiplication of hooks increased, the number of read en 
 nngmcnted authors rushed in literature became a 
 trade. It lost its previously lofty character competi 
 tion ensueddepreciation of rival authors followed 
 and criticism assumed a "local habitation and a name." 
 
 Of old the clnss of readers, as that cf writers, was 
 small, the difficulties to he surmounted great. Few 
 ventured upon the <*ihir ad astnr the ascent to Par 
 nassusbut those, whose consciousness of intellectual 
 greatness assured them of success. Where one suc 
 ceeded in reaching the summit, he was amply repaid 
 for the toil, by the admiration and gratitude of his 
 readers, who, depending upon a small circle for their 
 intellectual food and recreation, vied with each other 1 
 in devotion to the literary pioneer. But when the art 
 of printing became gcneral---wb.cn authors multiplied 
 when readers no longer received their works with de- 
 fiTcnce and gratitude as a favor, but sat in judgment 
 over them, as an attempt to corrupt their taste and 
 lighten their purses when writers dreaded, as a fiery 
 ordeal, the tribunal they once regarded, as a tributary 
 fame literary men lost that freedom and indepen 
 dence of thought, which confidence engendered 
 the master spirits of the day whom nought couh, 
 intimidate from innovation, passed away, and left 
 a class behind which succumbed to critical die- 
 tn forced their minds to act within circumscrib 
 ed limitv-dreaded long (lights, and were content with 
 being polished, easy, and witty, without aspiring after 
 vigor or originality. Both the style of their writing, and 
 their choice of subject indicate, if not more contracted, 
 at least feebler minds. These remarks, however, ap- 
 
200 REMAINS LITERARY, &C. 
 
 ply more to the writers of the last century than to those 
 of our own day, when there has been a species of spas 
 modic reaction* and impetuous contempt of authority, 
 which indicate independence, if not power of thought. 
 
 An American author of distinguished reputation has 
 on another occasion, in speaking of our National Lite 
 rature, recommended that the united study of the clas 
 sics and the writers of the 17th century, whose charac 
 ter we have heen discussing he compared with their 
 immediate successors and our own school. The force 
 of his suggestion is summed up in the following extract: 
 
 "We have recommended these two classes of writers, not 
 only because they arc in themselves excellent, hut because 
 each is, we think, calculated to correct the evil which might 
 arise from an exclusive study of the other. The Greek and 
 Roman languages are far more perfect, better contrived ve 
 hicles for thought and feeling than any modern tongue. No 
 writer can, therefore, now equal the class in authors in mere 
 istyle, and if he strives too much to resemble them, he would 
 perhaps, form a tame, monotonous and artificial style; he 
 might substitute excessive delicacy for purity of language. 
 Now this evil would be less likely to befal him, if he were 
 accustomed to the copiousness, variety and force of the old 
 English writers. On the other hand, an excessive and indis 
 criminate admiration of these last might make him careless, 
 diffuse and declamatory; but this could hardly happen, if he 
 had learned to appreciate aright the simple majesty, the lof 
 ty and sustained, but disciplined energy of the mighty mas 
 ters of the Grecian and Roman school. It is apprehended 
 by some, that a style, formed by the study of English au- 
 thors^who flourished when our language was, as they say, 
 in its infancy, would be quaint, atVectcd, and full of obsolete 
 expressions. He who is much acquainted with those writers, 
 with Jeremy Taylor particularly, cannot but discover that 
 our language is very much impoverished since their day, hr 
 will perhaps feel strongly the contrast between their rich ant 
 varied expression, and the lifeless monotony of more mod 
 ern writers; he may sometimes be tempted to use a word or 
 idiom that has gone out of fashion ; but this will be the extent 
 of his offence, for the classics will teach him to hate every 
 thing like affectation. 
 
REMAINS LITERARY, &C. 
 
 "In this country, it should be the business and theobjc t 
 of the literary men, not to reform and purify, but to create 
 n national literature. We never yet had one, and it is time 
 the want should be supplied. So much has been said, and 
 unskilfully said, about the peculiar advantages of our free 
 and popular institutions, and the beneficial effects they might 
 be expected to have on our literature, that it has become a 
 wearisome theme to many cars, and we almost fear to touch 
 upon it; bul the fact i*, that while some of our countrymen 
 are vain enough, they scarce know of what, the great body 
 of the nation, the literary and the wealthy, of those who 
 have influence in the community arc not at all loo proud of 
 our peculiar and glorious advantages; and what is worse, they 
 arc not apt to be proud in the right place." 
 
 Dr. Johnson has said, with the flippancy he some- 
 limes affected, that 4 *the man who would perpetrate a 
 pun, would not scruple to pick a pocket/ This was 
 one of those dogmas of a mind, perverse though strong, 
 which delights in startling assertion, and is hold and 
 confident without being assured. That he spoke with 
 out thought may be inferred from the fact, that, in the 
 application of his remark to the feeble spirit of conceit 
 which disfigured the style, and distorted the language 
 of the day, he overlooked or disregarded its like appli 
 cation to the practice of the ancients one too, that 
 does not appear to have been much rebuked, or, at least 
 never to such an extent as this among them. CJIan- 
 cing at the fragments left of the earlier Roman Poets, 
 Andronicus, Naevius, Ennius, etc. we were more sur 
 prised than we should have been, to find many passa 
 ges the merest bundles of conceits that the most trifling 
 and degraded periods of modem literature can furnish. 
 The most senseless jingle of words ap.d extravagance of 
 alliteration is found in Enneu s "Telcphus," and show, 
 that it is a great mistake to imagine, that the literature 
 of a rude and early age is free from the alliteration o 
 the English, the bijouterie of the French, or the con- 
 
 26 
 
202 REMAINS LITERARY 
 
 cttti of the Italian school. We challenge the manifold 
 feeblenesses and absurdities of the three to produce jt 
 specimen of false taste equal to the following by the man* 
 whose character Ovid sums up in the words, ingenia 
 maximus Kirte rudis, 
 
 "f/aud doctis dictis ccrtantes sed malcdictis, 
 Tilt tule Tute tibi tantu tyrannetuliiti. 
 Stultus rst <{ue sitpida cupiens cupicnler cvpit." 
 
 **** 
 POLTRY OF MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 We have just risen from the perusal of the "Scep 
 tic," a poem, by Felicia Hemans, and trust we have laid 
 the volume down neither uninstructed, nor unimprov 
 ed. It is uniformly chaste and beautiful, and occasion 
 ally presenting passages of thrilling pathos and brilliant 
 and powerful eloquence, it is not, as its title would 
 import, a didactic poem, attempting to induce through 
 the medium of Poetry a conviction which prose cannot 
 effect. It is precisely what a poem of the kind should 
 be one of feeling addressed to the sympathies -pro 
 ving the weakness, the utter helplessness of man, with-, 
 out the consolations of the Christian. 
 
 Didactic Poetry is apparently the most Philosophi 
 cal the most capable of teaching by examples the 
 most susceptible of reasoning, and therefore, it would 
 seem, the most suitable to convey instruction, or to con 
 vince by an imperceptible and pleasant process. But 
 the fact is otherwise. The connection with argument 
 is always IbrceJ, and unnatural, and generally unfavor 
 able to any better feeling than ennui or disgust. There 
 is, indeed, philosophy in Poetry, but it b not the ratio 
 cination of the schools it is not the dull process of syl 
 logism* or a reasoning, which appeals to the understan 
 ding alone. It is the spirit of poetry operating upon 
 <l\e heart bringing back the calmer passions sooth 
 
HKM.MXS LITERACY, \fcc. 203 
 
 ing the more stormy and reducing the soul to a tone 
 of .>ober contemplation, which prepares it to receive, 
 if it does not actually apply, the conclusions of philo 
 sophy. No one was ever convinced by a didactic 
 poem, nor indeed, is the power of instruction a test of 
 its excellence. Mrs. Hcmans was aware of this, and 
 took a surer course to effect her object to make a 
 broken and a contrite spirit. She addresses the feel- 
 i n S s ? snc eloquently depicts the loneliness and desola 
 tion of the heart, and gradually enlisting the sympathies, 
 at hist reduces the understanding to a state of humility, 
 that admits the approach of truth, which is with the 
 sceptic the chief, nay, the only, difficulty. 
 
 We give a couple of extracts which, we think, will 
 fully bear us out in the opinion we have iidvanccd. 
 
 what is nature s strength? ihe vacant eye 
 
 Uy mind deserted hath a dread reply, 
 
 The wild delirious laughter of despair, 
 
 The mirth ofphrcnzy seek an answer there! 
 
 Turn not away though pity s cheek grow pale, 
 
 CloM not thine ear against their awful tale. 
 
 They tell Ihee* reason wandcring from /he. ray 
 
 Off -tith) the hlazin<r pillar of her tray, 
 
 In the mid-darkness of the stormy ware 
 
 Forsook ihe stnigg/ing soul she could not save. 
 
 Weep not, sad moralist, o er deert plains 
 
 StrewM with the wrecks of grandeur mouldering fanes 
 
 Arches of triumph, long with v.-ccds o crgrown 
 
 And regal cities, now the serpent s own: 
 
 Earth has more awful ruins one lost mind 
 
 Whose star is qucnch d, hath lessons for mankind 
 
 Of deeper import, than each prostrate dome 
 
 Mingling its marble with the dust of Rome." p. 17. 
 
 In the pride 
 
 Of youth and health, by suffering* yet untried, 
 
 We talk of death, as something which tVcrc sweet 
 
 In glory s arms exultingly to meet; 
 
 A closing triumph, a majestic scene, 
 
 Where gazing nations watch the hero f mien, 
 
 An undismayed amidst the tears of all, 
 
204 KEUA1XS LITERARY, ic . 
 
 He folds his mantle, regally to fall. , 
 
 Hush, fond enthusiast! still obscure and lone, 
 
 Yet not less terrible because unknown, 
 
 Is tht; last hour of thousands they retire 
 
 From life s ihrong d path, unnoticed to expire. 
 
 Us tht light leitf, whose full to ruin bear* 
 
 Some trembling insect s little world of caret, 
 
 Descends in silence, while around waves on 
 
 The mighty fort s!, reckless what is gone/ 
 
 Such is man s doom and, ere an hour he flown, 
 
 Start not, thou triflcr, such may be thine own." p. 5. 
 
 "The restoration of the Works of Art to Italy," was 
 Mrs. Hcmans first and worst performance. The ver 
 ification is only tolerable even as regards melody and 
 smoothness, and in compass, strength and compression 
 utterly wanting. Her next effort, Tales and Historic 
 Scenes," evidences a rapid and obvious improvement, 
 not only in versification, which practice might have 
 insnrtd, hut in richness and novelty of thought, in 
 pouer of compression and choice of a pregnant, terse 
 phraseology. 
 
 "Camocns, and other Poems/* was hcrthird perform 
 ance, being translations from the French, Italian, Spa 
 nish, German and Portuguese, and exhibits little else 
 than the translator s knowledge of these languages. At 
 hast this is our opinion as far as we are able to judge. 
 fc>r with the first tongue alone of those above-mentioned, 
 do we claim intimacy. 
 
 The character of Mrs. Hemans poetry is, in some 
 respects, peculiar. She does not address herself to 
 the common passions or bustling scenes of life s routine, 
 nor are the feelings which she is most prone to deline 
 ate such as are universal. This, it would seem, should 
 lessen her success, and totally deprive her of a favora- 
 ble reception from the generality of readers. But the 
 fact -,s otherwise, nor do we conceive it of insuperable 
 difficulty in the solution. Nature, it is true, is even 
 where the same, but its predominant features vary in 
 different temperaments! The most widely successful 
 
nr.M.uxs i.iTF.nARV. c. ^03 
 
 poets in our language. Shakspcarc and Dry den, have; 
 depicted passions universal to the whole human family, 
 and are thence universally appreciated. The character 
 of Mrs. Ik-mans" muse is less social, and more retiring 
 and contemplative. It delights more in intercourse 
 with nature, than with mortals, prefers the snow 
 capped mountain, the lifting clouds, ai.d the ever 
 changing year, to the dull monotony of the works of 
 art; and would rather meditate in loneliness, and live 
 upon its own poetic aspirations, than mingle in busy 
 life, and make calls upon the sympathies of others. 
 
 This preference, the result either of original tem 
 perament, or the blighting hand of affliction, would in 
 a mind of less power, and equanimity, and regulated 
 tone, engender an abstract metaphysical love of mysti 
 cism, a misanthropic spirit of loneliness, and a neglect 
 or indifference to the interests of society. But our 
 talented authoress never permits Jier Pegasus to out 
 strip the concerns of life never forgets that the gen 
 ius of poetry, though a native; of the wilds and moun 
 tains; and though preferri :g lonely contemplation to 
 the bustling and heartless concerns of traffic, is a "good 
 genius," and regards the "busy hum of men," though 
 sometimes with pity and regret, never with contempt 
 or indifference. 
 
 We are no admirers of that poetical temperament, 
 which dwells with rapture upon the grandeur of na 
 ture s inanimate works, and disregards the mysterious 
 sublimity of God s immortal creatures. The secret of 
 Homers success -(may we not say of the success of 
 poetry, as synonymous terms;) is a clearness of images, 
 which seizes upon the mind, and transfers it to the 
 impress and conception? of his own fancy. His scenes 
 ar~ what pictures ^re to the eye, or music to the ear. 
 Without effort he unlocks the springs not of feeling 
 alone but of sympathetic, social, worldly, feeling, 
 if you choose and is read by every class with pre 
 cisely the same effect. We consider this a peculiar 
 
206 HK.ilAlXS LlTUtAKV. &C 
 
 merit, and worthy of being insisted upon in this ago 
 *)f dreamy, diffuse, listless, rhyme-making. 
 
 Ther i i in Mrs. llcmans poetry a calm, delicate 
 and winning persuasiveness, that attracts without exci 
 ting, interests without absorbing, and elicits, without 
 harrowin", the feeling. It is the turillirig ptnver Kirk 
 White lias sometimes exhibited, not the abrupt strength 
 of Byron it is the serenity of Addison, not the pathos 
 of Otway. This evinces a want of power of a par 
 ticular cast, not an absence of poetic feeling. She is 
 not obnoxious to the charge of downright apathy of 
 chilling insensibility. The sentiments are calm, 
 dreamy, chastened, as distinguished from the fantastic 
 wiidncss, the vague abruptness, and the fervid extrav 
 agance; which have too much become the tendency of 
 the age. \Vc are gl:ul of it. and put it to account of 
 her independence, and consciousness of true poetic 
 power. Men require to be powerfully excited their 
 sympathies must be inflamed, their imaginations strain 
 ed and their feelings harrowed up. Stimulus has 
 become their daily bread/ 5 and when the purer sort 
 cannot be obtained; the grosser, or that of doubtful 
 tendency, is not rejected. This is the fault of the age. 
 and Mrs. Hemans deserves well for having successfully 
 opposed it. 
 
 The age is distinguished for its female writers. Until 
 within comparatively a short period, a classical writer 
 of that sex one that could aflix her stamp and impress 
 to the literature of her country was almost, if not 
 entirely, a "rura m," etc. True we have long had 
 a Sevigne, a Montague and a Dacier. but they were 
 rather literary triflers, than sturdy pioneers, or inhabi 
 tants of the land; and wrote rather to show that they 
 could write as well as men, than with any other object. 
 The amount of their contributions is very small and 
 might be destroyed without loss. 
 
 Latterly this part of our literature has amazingly in 
 creased both in quantity and quality. They have 
 
REMAINS L1TKKARY, di*. 
 
 written much and well with a depth and compass of 
 mind a richness and discrimination, which entitle 
 them to a permanent niche in the literary fame of their 
 country. Tlieir ohjvet has been to create a literature 
 of a moral, e\ cry-day, practical cast: to rescue fiction 
 from the ban Is of profligacy, to purify ethics from the 
 discordant extremes of levity and sectarianism, and 
 present to vice a polished surface, which it can neither 
 parry nor resist. Our remark is matter of fact, not of 
 inference; it is founded upon literary history familiar 
 to all. N jcd \ve mention DC Stael, More, tkn-bauld, 
 Stcele, E\;eworlh. Haillic, whose works with \hoscof 
 our authoress, are in every body s hands? If Mrs. 
 Hemans be inferior to some of these, she possesses an 
 union of attractive qualities, which restores the balance 
 of usefulness. If she is below Madame DC Stael ir\ 
 capacity of thought in versatility of power and reach 
 of imaginative strength: inferior to Miss Edgcworth in 
 knowledge of the world, in wit, and happy descrip 
 tion: surpassed by Hannah More in enthusiasm though 
 we doubt it in glowing aspirations, and sublimated 
 invention. she unites so many of their best, if not 
 their very highest, attributes- that, though the com 
 parison with any one may seem mispkccd, she richly 
 deserves to be classed with those names, so honored 
 by taste, piety, and usefulness. 
 
 There is in Mrs. Hemans poetry a moral charm a 
 tone of uniform, intellectual equilibrium a deep aw 
 chastened tinge of feeling, full of bcauty---of nature 
 of truthof thrilling yet delicate passion, that gives 
 an uncommon and irresistible power to her strains, and 
 totally disarms criticism. Moreover, there are other 
 causes J--*ss connected with intrinsic merit, calculated to 
 propitiate an American critic. She is a woman with 
 which term we connect associations of a deep and ex 
 tensive character. That intellectual inferioritywe 
 use the term in a strict sense- --is not one of them, our 
 preceding remarks have demonstrated. She is a 
 
03 URUAINS LITKRAUY, &t. 
 
 native of a rival countryrival even in the feelings and 
 sympathies of literary excellence: is attached, devo 
 tedly attached, to our peculiar institutions: rejoices in 
 our successful struggle for national existence: and has, 
 what her -lords of the creation" have not the candor 
 to acknowledge it. Thence we admire her genius, 
 consider her success in some sort our own, and readily 
 pay our unimportant tribute of praise. We say unim 
 portant for. if we mistake not the deep religious sen 
 timent, the tone of sorrowful feeling, tempered with 
 placid resignation, that pervade her writings she ha* 
 DtCfl no stranger to misfortune. She "hears her facul 
 ties meekly f * there is no parade of learning no 
 tincture of conceit hut a strain of devotion, and a holy 
 enthusiasm, which rest upon higher favor, and depend 
 not upon human applause. 
 
 Mrs. Hcmans, in common with European writers, 
 has reaped but little benefit from the extensive perusal 
 her works have obtained in this country. An edition 
 of her works intended for her benefit, was contempla 
 ted some years since, but was relinquished, we believe, 
 through cupidity and want of generous forbearance in 
 rival publishers. Why does not one of our many highly 
 gifted females undertake to edit her entire production*, 
 which now exist, scattered in numerous small volumes, 
 and thus pay a small tribute to an individual, who }\^ 
 in no small degree contributed to exalt the female char 
 acter for Ulent and sensibility? 
 
 THE KING S SECRET. 
 
 "The King s Secret," by the author of the "Lost 
 Heir; is one of the best novels of the day. We know 
 nothing of the former effort of this writer, nor indeed 
 in relation to himself, can we tell his quo nomine dicaru. 
 but he need not be ashamed to avow the paternity of 
 
REMAINS LITERARY, &C. 209 
 
 his bantling. The time chosen for the introduction of 
 his characters upon the tn/jis. is a period of British 
 history, rich in chivalric legend, enveloped in that 
 degree of uncertainty which admits of an artificial 
 superstructure without shocking probability, or \iola- 
 ting facts and n (Fording a mine of ore readily wrought 
 up into fictions narrative, yet. comparatively, uniircath- 
 ed upon. The plot is rcmarkahly well laidregular, 
 yet deeply interestingvarious, yet in p.r r cct keep 
 ing. The scenes do not succeed each other \\ith suf 
 ficient rapidity, and are sometimes drawn out to tcdi- 
 ousness:---thcy grow out of each other, however, with 
 a probability, that avoids any rails upon the imagina 
 tion of the reader for assisjuiCv . and present nothing 
 abrupt in the srrirx hinr.ra cumtarttHi, which is by no 
 means a common excellence. His characters, with 
 the exception of the /f/wv//v/, present nothing very 
 striking. They are. houever, by contrast, analogy, 
 accurate discrimination, and the scenes in which they 
 figure, fully developed. The conduct of the plot is 
 admirable- --the events probable, and well explained--- 
 (the title is, by the bye, a misnomer) and some of the 
 more stirring incidentsthe attack upon the Kir.vard, 
 for cxar.iple---fully equal to the efforts of \Vaverly in 
 the same line. Our author evinces considerable inti 
 macy with antiquarian lore, in the costume, armor, and 
 Hcraliiric devices of his knights. \Vc welcome this 
 no\vl. though not of the first order, nor evincing great 
 power in its conception, as a returning relish for the 
 chaste and natural productions of Scott, (though his 
 style is by no means unexceptionable, nor his greatest 
 merit) in preference to the powerful and fascinating, 
 but artificial and flcetinc:, styl , which Bvtwer has in 
 troduced, and of which he has already fo.indcd a school 
 of imitators. His (Rulwcr s) first effort (Pclham) ap 
 peared like a new star in the firmament-- -it attracted 
 the gaze of the reading community at once. It wa* in 
 a new style- -abound ing in epigram, antithesis, and 
 
 27 
 
210 KLMA1XS LITEIIARY, &, 
 
 repartee profuse in powerful declamatiou, brilliant 
 episodes, and feeling soliloquy. But the best sketched 
 of character Sir Reginald Glanville, for example- 
 are descriptions not creations. He analyzes their 
 characters details their feelings and supplies them 
 with eloquent declamation. But this is all. Then* 
 are none of those touches of nature those spontaneous 
 and involuntary acts, which at a flash open the deepest 
 recesses of the" heart, and make us at once acquainted 
 with the individual before us. Mr. Bulwers subse 
 quent productions are in the same style- --and inferior 
 to his first in delineation of character, and interesting 
 incident. The same command of language attic wit- 
 deep feeling remain; but there is little variety* and 
 no improvement. Mr. Bulwer is a man of powerful 
 intellect classical taste, and great imaginatiou:--aud 
 were he to relinquish the fashionubknt ss of his man 
 nerhis perpetual declamation and dreamy epi 
 sodesmight well make Sir Walter look to his laurels. 
 But his faults are those of the age. To be satisfied of 
 it, we need only turn to the novels, essays, and reviews 
 of the day? the productions, too, of minds of no ordi 
 nary capacity. To answer the popular call for novel 
 tv, our writers are stimulated to sacrifice simple dic 
 tion, for intense and abrupt phraseologycorrect and 
 chastened thought, for bold arid daring sentiments.--- 
 mature, laborious composition and cautious correction 
 for hasty and unequal eflbrts---rcsigning future fame, 
 for present notoriety and profit. To this all-absorbing 
 thirst after public; favor, which hurries our authors to 
 surpass in the rapidity of production, even the avidity 
 of their readers to peruse their works, we attribute 
 (what to us appeal s to be) the fate of far the greater 
 part of the innumerable works of the day temporary 
 fame final oblivion. How many of the volumes, un 
 der which the press daily groans, will be referred to 
 as standards of taste, style, or sentiment, in the twen 
 tieth century? What Martial said of the MSS of hi- 
 
PEMAINS LITERARY, &C. 
 
 day, may be repeated now with tenfold truth "Sunt 
 pauca bonasunt qwedam mcliorasunt phtrima 
 mala. ---It cannot escape the most superficial observer, 
 that, of late, our language lias degenerated from its 
 form ?r strength and comparatively attic simplicity, in 
 to dilFuseness, tinsel, and meretricious ornament: that 
 to its philosophic regularity has succeeded uncontrol 
 led innovationand tbat there can scarcely be found 
 an anomaly, which has not been introduced by writers 
 of the last quarter of a ccittury. Hut we pause being 
 in danger of wandei ing into a corollary by no means 
 warranted hv our text. 
 
 THE YOUNG DIKE. 
 
 We have just risen from the perusal of the Yowig 
 Duke" by the author of Vivian Grey. It is a beauti 
 ful biographical sketch of a naturally strong mind and 
 noble disposition, perverted by a vascillating and fan 
 tastic disposition and turned from its original bent by 
 reckless self-indulgence. It may fairly be placed by 
 the side of "/W/w;?j ---by far the best production of 
 the talented Bulwer. In passages of thrilling elo 
 quence, and bursts of irresistible comic cflcct, it is 
 superior its sentiment is vague and dreamy, or fan 
 tastic, foppish and strait-laced- -and, in this respect, it 
 is inferior to the work in question, which it sometimes 
 obviously imitates. The fire and animationthe play 
 fulness and waggery, that run through the whole, are 
 admirably sustained, and show the polished gentleman 
 of wit, taste and fashion. With the alternate jest and 
 morality, the irresistible humor succeeded by thrilling 
 pathos, shew a practised pen which touches at will 
 
 A portion of lh irtirle will b found elsewhere. We have, in the Me 
 moir, referred to ihcM repetitioai. and eodMToared to MeowM for, though 
 M* thorn. 
 
212 HKMAINS L1TKUAKY, &r. 
 
 the hidden springs of feeling and wields the lighter 
 details of fashionable skirmishing with an ease and ele 
 gance that we in vain look for even in Waverly himself. 
 But the literary bijuntvric is laid on with too great 
 profusion; and deprives the work of that simplicity 
 and unaffected grace which renders Scott despite 
 their unbounded wit and clcgffnt display of knowledge- 
 superior to all his COmpetitOrt in those sterling requi- 
 sites which udherc, and indeed, are never fully devel 
 oped until a second perusal. The devclopemcnt of 
 the plot in the Young Duke* is wawkring and in- 
 t Truptcd hut verging to a point by bright and 
 desultory incidents, but unerring certainty. The style 
 \NC seriously dread as of contagious example. It is 
 artificial replete with metapHor brilliant with epi 
 grambut united with that eternal trifling that 
 strait-laced literary dandyism* around which the author 
 of *-l J elham" has thrown a charm, which will for a 
 while delude imitators into nia\\kish, fantastic, and 
 strained incidents, abrupt style, affected phraseolo 
 gy, until the public shall have been dosed- -usque utf 
 m/t/m//// and then they will appreciate, and return 
 to, the chaste and natural descriptions of Scott, and 
 to the legitimate landmarks of pints healthy English, 
 which, in the foreign foppery of fashionable novels, 
 arc sndlv overthrown or mutilated. 
 
 In this last effort, Mr. D lsraeli, (who is beyond, 
 the allotted age, by several years.) seems to have had 
 an //ic/icm sumiiier* in the winter of his life, and a** 
 suov\ invigorates the sear and famished root, to havi 
 acquired increased vivacity by the temporary slug 
 gishness in the current of his veins. In point an<! 
 sprightliness, and in splendor and variety of incident, 
 it is superior to his former attempt: in sentiment, 
 elegance of dialogue, and delicacy .of retort---it is in 
 ferior. The conclusion appears to have been care 
 lessly written, nor can \vc account for the clumsiiic^ 
 of the tclaircissement between Herbert Dae re ami 
 
KEMA1XS MTRIIARY, &f. O|j 
 
 Lady Caroline. We intended to have made some ex 
 tracts, but, though passives of great beauty, of 
 attractive playfulness, and deep interest, are profusely 
 scattered over the work, they depend so much upon 
 contrast with each other, peculiar situation, and dra 
 matic incident, that they lose much of their o fleet 
 when detached. We content ourselves with one 
 Which affords a favorable specimen of our author s 
 manner. 
 
 -First love, first love! how many a glowing bard has 
 s,ng thy beauties! How many n poor Ail of* a proving 
 novelist, like myself, has echoed all our superiors, the poet< 
 teach us! No doubt, thon rosy K od of young desire thou 
 art a most bewitching little demon; and" vet for mv nart 
 give me last love. 
 
 "Ask a man which turned out best, the first horse he bought 
 or the one he now canters on? Askbut in short there is 
 nothing in which knowledge is more important, and experi 
 ence more valuable than in love. When we first love, we 
 are enamored of our own imaginations. Our thoughts are 
 high, our feelings rise from out the deepest caves of the 
 tumultuous tide of our full life. We look aroUnd for one to 
 share our exquisite existence, and sanctify the beauties of 
 our being. 
 
 <Hut those beauties are only in our thoughts. We feel like 
 heroes when we arc but boys. Vet our mistress must bear 
 a relation, not to ourselves, but to our imagination. She 
 must be a real heroine, while our perfection is but ideal 
 And the quick and dangerous fancy of our race will rise to 
 the pitch. She is all we can conceive. Mild and pure as 
 youthful priests, we bow down before our altar. But the 
 idol to which we breathe our warm and gushing vows, and 
 bend our eager knees, all its power, does it not exist only 
 in our idea all its beauty, is it not the creation of our own 
 cxritcd fancy? And then the sweetest of superstitions ends. 
 The long delusion bursts, and we are left like men upon a 
 heath when fairies vanish; cold and dreary, gloomy, bitter, 
 harsh; existence teems a blunder. 
 
 "But just when we are most miserable, and curse the poets 
 cunning and our own conceits, there lights upon our path, 
 just like a ray fresh from the sun, some sparkling child of 
 light, that makes us think we are premature, at least in our 
 
AINii L11LHAK\, C. 
 
 resolve. Vel we arc determined not to he taken iu, ami try 
 her well in all the points in which the others failed. One 
 by one her charms steal on our warming soul, as one by one, 
 those of the other heauty sadly stole away, and then wo 
 bless our stars, and feel quite sure that we have found per- 
 lection in a petticoat." 
 
 IKVINU S ALHAMBHA. 
 
 \Ve have skimmed over this last effort of our distin 
 guished countryman, Irving, hut are not of opinion that 
 it will make any addition to his already lofty, and rich 
 ly earned, eminence. As a record of the quaint man 
 ners of the remnant of a people fast falling to decay, its 
 beautiful sketches and occasional graphic touches of 
 character may render it curious, but even here its 
 sketchy and fury texture makes it of little real weight 
 or value. We suspect it is little more than our author s 
 ordinary journal, not originally intended for the public* 
 but imperceptibly accumulating on his hands, and in 
 creasing in the richness of its contents, until it became 
 necessary to relieve himself of the mass, and the mass 
 became sufficiently valuable to be thrown off in this 
 form. Mr. Irving, has, therefore, put forth a book; 
 and this, we infer from external evidence, is the history 
 of the sketches before us. It is an off-hand, currcnfe 
 ralatno, travelling effort, written without design or la 
 bor, and strung together, like loose pearls simply to 
 keep them from being lost. Viewing it in this light, 
 the "Tales of the Alhambra," however little they may- 
 add to, can detract nothing from, the high reputation 
 of our countryman. 
 
 The first one hundred and fifty pages are devoted to 
 a description of the "Alhambra," its appearance, ex 
 terior and interior, its ancient government and state, 
 its inhabitants, and its chief courts, halls and balco- 
 
HEMAIXS LITLRAKY* &C. $15 
 
 nies, the rest of the work is taken np with legends, 
 superstitions, etc. relative to the building and its seve 
 ral parts. The opening one hundred and odd pages 
 are a blemish to the work dull, diffuse, circumstan 
 tial.* Our author d* scribes with the same particularity 
 with which he examined he amplifies until he becomes 
 vague and individuality is destroyed, and heaps up 
 particulars, until the general impression is weakened. 
 All the local information necessary could be conveyed 
 in one fifth the space and to better effect, and the 
 particulars would both have enlisted the interest of the 
 reader, and avoided repetition, by being introduced 
 under their proper head, in the local legends, when 
 they would have appeared important and been fixed in 
 the memory by interesting association; whereas, where 
 they stand, they are isolated and without interest. 
 The subjects too arc not such as to call forth great 
 power: fairy legends must be essentially light, flippant, 
 and, to?, degree, childish. They do not even admit of 
 our author s peculiarly graceful tact in sketching, nor 
 the full flow of his delicate humor. The portraits, 
 too in such a work must be grave and. at the same time, 
 trifling: for where unearthly agency is admitted, 
 human characters are secondary and not worth draw 
 ing with a nervous hand. Accordingly, wherever he 
 deviates from the routine of fairy tale telling, and per 
 mits, as he often does, the full play of his delicately 
 sarcastic wit, he ceases to be an inhabitant of "faery 
 lande" we forget his new character, and commune 
 with our old friend of "Knickerbocker," and the most 
 racy portions of the first "Sketch Book." This work 
 will be read as extensively as any of its author s pre 
 vious productions, and, we trust, may afford him a 
 
 But w oot Urn same difliwencs* and particularity strong aa-d leading fea 
 ture in all the writings of this gentleman? What are the stories and current 
 narrative* of the Sketch Book, Bracebridge Halt, lie. but the accounts of 
 thing* and events of moderate interest, needle**)? carried ot to a particularity 
 which * tfldioM ; and in a strain am* OMMKT better muring to be atyfed rn- 
 ftmenfsWtry than Mttiment 
 
216 IIRMA1NS - L1TERAUY, &C 
 
 harvest more substantial than fame, of which he has 
 already reaped his full share in two continents in one 
 with a single co-laborer hut, we think, criticism will 
 nettle down into the opinion we have advanced, that it 
 is a merc^V/i tP es//rit. which, however pleasing in its 
 way, can udd nothing to a reputation already so great. 
 
 "SWALLOW BARN," 
 
 Or a sojourn in the Old JJontinioH. 
 
 Our country, fruitful as she is in legend, historic 
 record, and diversity of character, can never want 
 writers of fiction, and, as a proof of it, we would ad 
 duce this work, the production, it is said, of J. L. Ken 
 nedy, Esq. a member of the Baltimore bar, upon a 
 theme apparently barren, and almost impracticable to 
 the mould of the novelist. Our author has succeeded 
 however, in creating a delightful domestic talc, and 
 enveloping very meagre materials in considerable inte 
 rest, which increases with the progress of the story 
 throughout a plot exceedingly simple, and requiring 
 from the sketchy, disjointed, journal-like charac 
 ter of the book, little or no attention and man 
 agement. This novel if it fall under the class 
 is by no means of the fust order even of Ameri 
 can works of fiction; it exhibits none of Cooper s 
 living scenery, thrilling description, and abrupt, start 
 ling transition: Irving s delicate attic wit, sparkling 
 bijouterie and Addbonian style, are no where to be 
 seen; and of Brockden Brown s manner it is the per 
 fect antipodes. Still it has merit of no ordinary cha 
 racter, and nsa departure from the fashionable slip-shod 
 style of the day, deserves to be hailed as ominous of ,\ 
 returning taste for placid life, natural descriptions and 
 ordinary events, over the high-wrought scenes, unna 
 tural sentiment, and distorted pictures of life, which 
 
RF.UAINS LITERACY, &c. 217 
 
 disfigure the powerful, but from their presenting no 
 impress of the times, necessarily short-lived, produc 
 tions of the new school; which has trodden on the heels 
 of the great Waverly. Our author s style is simple, 
 careless, and even loose, hut there is an idiomatic 
 turn of expression pervading it, which is as delightful, 
 as it is uncommon. Of wit he exhibits nothing, and his 
 humor .j of the broad caricature order, which is well 
 adapted to the scenes and characters he describes. 
 As a journal of domestic events, Mr. Kennedy s hook 
 is a perfect picture of the hearty hospitality of the Old 
 Dominion, and as a record of manners fast falling into 
 decay, and a memento of a class almost extinct, it will 
 be a source of great gratification a century hence, and 
 an interesting repository to the antiquarian. 
 
 -CONVERSATIONS WITH AN AMBITIOUS 
 STUDENT IN ILL HEALTH." 
 
 These -Conversations/ together with an essay or 
 two, and several fancy sketches, are attributed by their 
 American publisher (for they have not appeared in 
 this form across the Atlantic) to the accomplished au 
 thor of "Pclham," and the internal evidence furnished 
 by them leaves no doubt of their paternity. The dia 
 logue is easy, sketchy and perfectly characteristic, 
 abounding less in antithesis, and ambitious metaphor, 
 less in abrupt and conceited sentiment. less in inver 
 ted style and meretricious ornament, and entirely 
 exempt from that strait-laetd literary dandyism, which 
 is the great blemish of our author s manner. At the 
 same time, we have no small portion of that delicate 
 tact, that sprightly bijouterie, that elegant trifling uni 
 ted to profound reflection, which characterize his rf- 
 forts, and infinitely outweigh all. and they are not a 
 few, of the minor objections. We do not mean that 
 
 28 
 
MEMAINS LITKRARY, fcc. 
 
 this vork is to be put by the side of "Pelham, w but we 
 assert, that if its beauties be not as striking, its faults 
 are fewer, that our author has reformed his style of 
 late, or that there was a time, when he wrote more 
 naturally, which we are glad to know, GS it affords 
 ground for hope that he may do so in future. Mr. 
 Bulwer is evidently a man of powerful imagination, 
 extensive knowledge, classical acquirements, and deep 
 observation, but his taste, or rather the fashionable 
 taste of the day for which lie caters is essentially 
 factitious and corrupt. Let him but reform its affected 
 fastidiousness its sickly sentiment its preference of 
 abrupt style and daring phraseology over chastened 
 and correct thought let him but "reform it alto 
 gether," and write but as nature and his own genius 
 prompt him, and he may well make Sir Walter look to 
 his laurels. 
 
POETICAL. 
 
 THE DRAMAA PRIZE ADDRESS. 
 
 Hail, generous Patrons of the Drama s arts, 
 Once more we greet you with devoted hearts. 
 We bid you welcome to the mimic scene, 
 Its worlds of painted life, and fields of green 
 Its wilds oi thought, where vagrant fancies play, 
 Where Nature wooes and wand ring poets stray. 
 Its classic groves, and bow rs by magic wrought.. 
 And all its stores of song, and mighty thought! 
 
 Long o er these realms of wealth had Darkness trod, 
 A gloomy tyrant an usurping God 
 And hallow d learning half forgot her sway, 
 Her glorious empire blotted from the day 
 In dreams oblivious sacred Poiisy slept, 
 Her groves deserted and her lyre-unswcpt; 
 Till, bursting through the gloom, the Drama rose, 
 And, at her glance, a new creation glows! 
 There, clust ring round, obedient to her will, 
 The soul s strong pas? ions her behests fulfil; 
 Remorse, in tears, and Mirth, with laughter lit 
 Hate with its haggard sneer, and bright-^yM Wit 
 Despair that haunts wild glen and lonely stream, 
 And cherub Love, that warms the maiden s dream. 
 The phantom troopa, around her altar throng, 
 And lead in chains the willing slaves along 
 By toils severe the Drama school d the age, 
 And Virtue taught her lessons from the stage. 
 
 In western wilds, within the unbroken shade, 
 Ere Learning sanctioned laws which Freedom made, 
 Or, Reason form d, in one harmonious plan, 
 The social rules which bind discordant man. 
 
22O REMAINS POETICAL. 
 
 The Stage arose and even the savage mind, 
 Lov d the high scene, and sought to be reiiu d. 
 
 The Bard of Avon led the deathless band, 
 Who struck and taught the lyre in liritish land 
 The ehequer d realms of earth his spells obey, 
 And the stern tomb resigns its ravish d prey 
 And spectres ri!e and sheeted ghosts appear, 
 \\ith scorpions anu d to startle guilt with fear. 
 Now, wild Ambition final* it vain to trust 
 To sculptured stone, and monumental dust, 
 Yet though the urn be crush d, the lyre unstrung, 
 On whose proud note the world delighted hung, 
 The scythe of Chrouos, though the world it sweeps, 
 Shall spare the hallo w d spot where Shakspeare sleep?. 
 
 To point the efforts of the aspiring Muse, 
 
 To Virtue s, Honor s praise as noblest use, 
 
 To be us by th immortal Hard detin d 
 
 The unerring mirror oi the human mind, . 
 
 Kjrh folly limn, and, with ail colours true, 
 
 rioihe Error in her vain and native hue 
 
 To win new muses, and awake new strains, 
 
 And win the old from well-remember d plains, 
 
 In Freedom s land to rear some classic bays, 
 
 And leave a name of pride to other days 
 
 This be the aim of our aspiring age, 
 
 These be the works and triumphs of our Stage. 
 
 Indulgent Patrons! in your hands we trust 
 
 The JLirama s fortunes to the charge be just. 
 
 To rear an inlant stage, on you we call, 
 
 For by your verdict it must rise or fall 
 
 To all its faults we would not have you blind, 
 
 Hut look with gentle brow and pirit kind- 
 
 Though lii-re, on feeble wing the Muse may rise, 
 
 Feebly at first, and fearful of the skies, 
 
 Vet with your plaudits t-heerM, a bolder flight, 
 
 Shall win your hearts in wonder and delight 
 
 And in her walU, by your warm bounty fed, 
 
 Some Shakspeare yet may sing some Garrick tretd; 
 
 Some glorious Siddons passion s fire impart, 
 
 Some Kemble wing a shaft to every heart. 
 
REMA1XS POETICAL. 221 
 
 in this thrice favoured clime, where deathless fame, 
 Prompts the young mind, and lights up glory s flame, 
 Land of chivalric deeds where sprang of old. 
 The statesman, wise and true the warrior, bold 
 Where golden Ceres wi .h profusivc hand, 
 Scatters her bounties o er the teeming land 
 And Natrrc, lavish still of life and light, 
 Decks the rich realms the Genoese brought to sight, 
 Here bring your legions, and your standard plant 
 And make your lore enchain, your lyre enchant! 
 
 Oil, from these happy shores be banished far, ,* 
 The gloom ot death, the frenzied shriek of war 
 And wild ambition, fated to pursue. 
 The vision glory, with his demon crew. 
 May peace forever more with plenty shine, 
 And bless the land that consecrates the Nine; 
 And here, where Commerce spreads her wide domain. 
 lie lix d the splendours of the Muse s reign. 
 
 Oh, vain yc masters whom we all obey, 
 If you prove adverse, is our Poet s lay 
 Though you receive not, yet extend delight, 
 And grant indulgence to our toils to-night 
 O er all our errors draw the guardian veil 
 Nor let the sterner, critic mood, assail 
 Not free from failing, hope we to appear, 
 Vet honest effort claims some favour here 
 You whose applause we value more than gold, 
 And in just poi.se the equal balance hold, 
 Still keep in view the Drama s noblest end, 
 And be at once the Censor and the Friend. 
 
 THE POETICAL RAGE. 
 
 The universal passion, pride, 
 I las surely never spread so wide, 
 As now, when every dunce, in arms, 
 Would storm Apollo with alarms; 
 And raging rash, in rankest lays, 
 Would snatch and steal reluctant bays 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 
 
 ? Tis Horace say* a man of wit 
 "Pocta nascitur non fit 
 The maxim a stale, but would you know it, 
 You are not made, but born, a roet 
 Tis prose enough, and hence tis here, 
 Since men may prose it every where. 
 
 The meanest brute by Nature made, 
 Securely plods his proper trade, 
 Nor, by strange follies led astray, 
 Pops, ever, in his neighbor s way 
 Who ever saw a hog romantic, 
 A bear forever at an antic? 
 
 Alas these may no models be, 
 For all the monsters I hat we see, 
 And Hoohies now make daily use*, 
 Of I);in Apollo and the Muses; 
 In wit, and in their nature s spite, 
 Disdain to think yet dare to writt. 
 
 With wit and judgment unendowed, 
 Still captious, ignorant and loud 
 Each modern Midas shakes his ears, 
 And chatters to the vexed spheres, 
 Void of all sense as wcl 1 as shame, 
 Heneath rebuke, beyond reclaim. 
 
 To mend the manners and the mind, 
 The poci jj art was well designed; 
 To point the height where glory fliei, 
 And teach presumption to be wise 
 The Muse appeared with heavenly strain, 
 And lill d the warm enthusiast s brain. 
 
 Shall these high oflices of thought, 
 
 These glorious duties then he nought 
 
 While spirits base, and bio kheads dull 
 Presume their choicest spoils to cull 
 Apollo, cast aside thy lyre, 
 
 And let thine arrows speak thine ire. 
 
 
 To notice dullness would be vain 
 
REMAIN* POETICAL. 
 
 "The loss would be exceeding gain." 
 Respite thy brnin thou shouldst not try. 
 "Upon the wheel lo crush the fly;" 
 "He this our motto and our fate, 
 Hated by fools, and fools to hate/* 
 
 WINTER SCENE. 
 
 Lx)ok upon the winter hearth, 
 What a scene of careless mirth, 
 Yonder go a thoughtless round, 
 Whirling at the viol s sound; 
 There, is many a wanton fairy, 
 Wit i light heart and footsteps airy; 
 With no thought upon the morrow, 
 Things that never yet knew sorrow. 
 
 There are some of riper years, 
 1 uight, melhinks, in human tares. 
 Yet they look with grateful sight, 
 On the whirling ring s delight 
 Care has lesson d to be kind, 
 And has mcUow d well each mind, 
 Till their very griefs become, 
 Gentle teachers for their home. 
 
 These are small ond humble joys, 
 But their presence never cloys 
 Though they come with every night, 
 Still their presence brings delight 
 Memory has not lost its pow r, 
 And the old survey the hour, 
 When like those that wander by, 
 They too had their revelry. 
 
 Tis t pleasant song and play, 
 Those who know then* well, may sty, 
 Which the wrought and anxicus ear, 
 Listens ever more to hear 
 That same song by winter sung, 
 Uttered forth by childhood s tongoe. 
 
Xfc.MAINS POETICAL. 
 
 That same Fport, when none would tire, 
 Hound the good old winter i\rc. 
 
 Never may the open brow, 
 Or, the heart that s joyous now, 
 Or, the wild and wanton dream, 
 Or, the gay, unflickering beam, 
 Or, the footstep light and airy, 
 Find the future visionary 
 Twere a Poet s sweetest pray r, 
 That their fortunes should be fair. 
 
 THE POWER OF BEAUTY. 
 
 What shall compass Beauty s dow r 
 Who shall sing of Beauty s power 
 Who is weak that Beauty arms 
 Who is dull that Beauty charms? 
 Though the Minstrel slumber long, 
 Beauty wakes him into Song; 
 All his human hands she breaks, 
 All his heavenly ardor wake?, 
 Bids him ride on eagle wings, 
 Soaring to celestial things. 
 
 In her bow r long days he lies, 
 Raptures scaling up his eyes, 
 Till she prompt him with a glance, 
 And he lifts the lyre and lance; 
 Throws aside his apathy, 
 Learns to live and dares to die, 
 Nor the storm, nor piercing wind, 
 Stays the ardour of his mind. 
 
 From his limbs the locks are hurPd, 
 And he rushes o er the world; 
 All his spirits now awaken, 
 From his eye the scales are taken, 
 And his living song it* given, 
 To that brightest form of heaven; 
 To the world s eye she is shown, 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 225 
 
 \ As her charms have fiWM his own, 
 VTill, as mad as he who siogs, 
 AH the million put on wings, 
 Soaring for the embodied glory, 
 Of that wild eyed Poet s story. 
 
 They would compass Beauty s dow>, 
 They would witness Beauty s pow r, 
 They would revel in her arms, 
 Blest with all her sacred charms 
 But she keeps the charms and spell, 
 For the bard who sings them well; 
 Though, for him, the prince of verse, 
 They are yet the care and curse 
 She has bound him in her chain, 
 And he never sings again, 
 Ruling not his fellow men, 
 He has lost his empire then 
 Hush d the lyre that once delighted, 
 And the wreath of bay is blighted. 
 
 MOONLIGHT WANDERINGS. 
 
 When is set the orb of day, 
 And the moon with placid light 
 Cheers the lonely traveller s way 
 Mid the darkness of the night 
 
 When the bright stars beaming through, 
 And along each waving pine, 
 Scatter d o er the trackless blue, 
 In the spacious azure shine 
 
 When the drowsy earth is still, 
 And no single jarring sound, 
 Save the trickling of the rill, 
 Breaks the spell of silence round 
 
 With perhaps, the sullen moan, 
 When the prosing owl would sing. 
 29 
 
226 REMAINS POETICAL.. 
 
 Or the whizzing bat alone, . 
 On hia dark and dragon-wing: 
 
 Then I wander forth alone, 
 Not alone for round me throng* 
 Fairy elves of foreign tone, 
 And with spirit speech and soog 
 
 They are mine and in my heart, 
 All its longings they supply, 
 Till my apirit fain would dart 
 Upward with them to the sky. . 
 
 Let the garish glance of Jay, 
 Livelier senses still delight, 
 J Ti* my mood to rather stray, 
 In the stillness of the night. 
 
 Flitting fancies guide me on, 
 Mazy wilds and waters through, 
 Echo, ever and anon, 
 Playful, bidding me pursue. 
 
 Be the night my province still, 
 She will aid my soaring wing, 
 With her I shall gain the hill, 
 And the sacred spring. 
 
 W>FTY MEDITATIONS. 
 
 Though young in years, in wisdom hoary, 
 Sworn foe alike to Whig and Tory, 
 Serene I mount the upper story, 
 
 And thence look down, 
 With towering grandeur, ease and glory, 
 
 On this town. 
 
 In soiled shirt, and tattered breeches, 
 Disdaining worldly power and riches, 
 For others wealth my palm ne er itches, 
 But wields at will, 
 
KEMA1NS - POETICAL. 
 
 That source of poems, songs tnd speeches, 
 My "grey goose quill!" 
 
 Oh, sacred weapon! Source of pleasure! 
 The dunces scourge! the poet s treasure! 
 Alone, exempt from legal seizure 
 
 Thy channfe delight 
 My mind by day, and sweetly measure 
 
 My dreams by night. 
 
 Like thec, self-buoyant, firm and steady, 
 
 HI y the as - on May day* 
 
 !) College Fresh let loose on play day, 
 
 I careless snore 
 K en thee, vociferous, cursed pay day, 
 
 I hear no more. 
 
 My pleasing prospects never vary, 
 My spirits rarificd and airv, 
 No Fortunatus, witch or fairy, 
 
 Can mend my diet: 
 Not D - in his Barataryj 
 
 Rcign d half so quiet. 
 
 Ve Poets! mark the truths I teach, 
 Strive all Parnassus heights to reach, 
 Nor heed what groundling Poets preach 
 
 Of fame and glory; 
 VVho seeks for attic wit must reach 
 
 The attic story ! 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION, 
 
 *TO THE ALBUM OF MISS - - : . 
 
 While other bards their homage pay, 
 And celebrate thy natal day 
 While swains upon thy virtues dwell, 
 And gallants of thy beauties tell 
 A bumble bard, with downcast look, 
 W* u ld sing the virtue* of thy book 
 
228 REMAINS POETICAL. 
 
 No minstrel he, with genius strong, ^ 
 To mount up in the realms of song, 
 But one, who* in his utmost pride. 
 Still creeps along the mountain side 
 His highest hope, with timid pen, 
 To scribble of thy Album then. 
 
 Now, while its leaves are free from stain, 
 An emblem of thyself we gain; 
 The pages free from spot appear, 
 And teach us, thou, like them, art fair. 
 Thine \ the gentle cherub s part, 
 And shadowlcss thy hin<: and heart. 
 
 Hut when with sable streams o erspreaJ, 
 Hope s brightest visions here are read; 
 And Friendship conies with genial smile, 
 And Love, beguil d, and tc beguile 
 And pensive Thought, with evening ray, 
 Rejoiced at their harmonious play. 
 
 Oh, may thy young heart feel the power, 
 Of each of these in every hour 
 While Hope, etherial, conies to charm, 
 And Love adores with ardour warm 
 And Truth, well known, beside thee stands. 
 And hears, and heeds, and links your hands. 
 
 Oh, may the cflrrent of thy days, 
 
 Unlike the minstrel s idle lays, 
 
 Ih sweet composure glide along, 
 
 A calm, uninterrupted, song, 
 
 \Vhose nates, like those that swell above, 
 
 Still cheer with peace, and charm with love! 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 When appears the God of Light, 
 In his high imperial car, 
 
 Driving with unmeasured flight. 
 The o erladen night alar 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 229 
 
 Gathering up, in sullen haste, 
 
 ^A!l her gloomy trnin she flics, 
 While, with hues more gentle graced, 
 
 Laughs the blue and beaming skies 
 And the weeping mists are fled, 
 
 And the chill and shade are gone, 
 And each bird from out his bed, 
 
 Singing, hails the gathering sun. 
 And, though lately sad with tears, 
 
 Nature, like a blushing flow r, 
 In her bridal dress appears, 
 
 Laughing in a summer bow r 
 There, a daisy lifts its brow, 
 
 Thither speeds a vagrant l>rceze, 
 And a squirrel on yon bough, 
 
 Shakes the dew-prarls from the trees; 
 While, with modest joy elate, 
 
 Two sweet warblers sit above, 
 With a low and tender prate, 
 
 Conning o er their store* of love- 
 These have lessons in the lore, 
 
 Which the listning soul may find, 
 If, by all untaught before, 
 
 Which may well supply the mind- 
 Nature, with a kindly sense, 
 
 Grateful to the student s si^ht, 
 Teaches the intelligence, 
 
 And the rapture born of light. 
 With this Ie*6on taught I rise 
 
 Over humbler earth s control 
 Guided to my native skies, 
 
 Fearless, by the seeing -soul. 
 
 THE YOUNG MOTHER. 
 
 pleasant visions iu the mother s mind, 
 Fill with sweet cares and ecstacies refin d, 
 And Hope s fair promises, with calm control, 
 W.-.rm, with the future prospect, til her soul 
 While all the thoughts which animate her breast. 
 The purest dreams of happiness attest 
 
230 REMAINS I OEl lCAL. 
 
 May lhat great Providence who rules on high, 
 Look gently downwards with approving eye 
 Nor pause to junction the sweet hopes that rise, 
 Within her soul, and fill with tears her eyes. 
 Still, o er her babe, as anxiously she bends. 
 And, with her hope, a doubt of -sorrow blends, 
 Dispel the care, whose dark and deadly mien, 
 Would dull the vision and deface the* scene. 
 
 Oh, identic mother, with thy soul of truth, 
 
 Slill tend his childhood and inform his youth, 
 
 And, till secure from human sin and strife, 
 
 Direct in sweet simplicity his life--- 
 
 Kre the dark blights of future grief arise, 
 
 To blight the garden scene and cloud the skies, 
 
 When yout!) attends with all its golden hues, 
 
 Its theme of love, its worship of the Muse, 
 
 Its thousand strings of thought* its fleeting rays, 
 
 Its love of fleeting powtfr its thirst of praise- 
 
 Through your aflections still, by nature taught, 
 
 As great in action, and as pure in thought, 
 
 Let solid joys, that may not disappear, 
 
 And works that fleet not with the fleeting year* 
 
 Hequite tin* present toil, all toils above, 
 
 And every harvest home bring joy and love. 
 
 DITHYRAMHIC. 
 
 How pleasantly sweet is the fond recollection 
 
 Of youthful attachments, unscathed with alldy, 
 When the heart, haply freed from each painful reflection; 
 
 Reverts back to days of its earliest joy. 
 When frolic and gay, whh the spirit of childhood, 
 
 The form roved at once where its memory flew, 
 By the wandering stream, by the thicket and wild wo<al< 
 
 And every dear Scene, that its infancy knew. 
 
 Oh, why are we doomed, when the bloom is all banish d. 
 
 Which Hebe in youth threw around the young heart, 
 When the blush of the flowers forever is vanished, 
 
 And the odour all gone, to behold them depart! 
 
UKMA1NS 1 OBTICAL. 
 
 To linger behind nnd to see in the distance, 
 
 The glorion? phantoms, all fleet ins;, of youth 
 
 To cherish a sad and a single existence. 
 
 With nothing to seek and with nothing to soothe. 
 
 And fled from my grasp arc the joys of my childhood. 
 
 And faded the visions that shone at. its morn 
 I rove midst the bower, I roam in the wild wood, 
 
 And seeking their flox. rets, I find but the thorn. 
 Ah, wherefore thus seek since the pleasures are faded, 
 
 Ah, wherefore desire, nor boldly depart 
 Tis but folly to gaze where the prospect is shaded. 
 
 But madness to nourish a Mill breaking heart. 
 
 DEAR THINGS. 
 
 Dear to the storm troubled seaman at even, 
 
 Is the silver lamp in the azure heaven 
 
 Dnar to the warrior, strewn with the slain, 
 
 Is the field of his triumph, the red battle plain-- 
 
 Dcar to the exile, long destined to roam, 
 
 Is the twinkling lamplight that beams from his home- 
 
 And dear to the slave by his tyrant oj press d, 
 
 To sink on his lowly couch to rest. 
 
 Dcai to all is the morning s light. 
 Dear the sky-lark s upward flight 
 Dear the minstrel s airy spell, 
 And his sprite-encompass d cell; 
 Where, the pleasant wood-nymphs rove, 
 ,\nd the bow rs have each a love, 
 With a magic rich and rare, 
 Making dearest things more dear. 
 
 Dear to valour is the strife. 
 
 Where the victim pleads for the forfeit life} 
 
 Dear to mercy is the tear, 
 
 That tells of the plaint, and the granted prayer* 
 
 Dear to wild ambition s eye, 
 
 Is the battle s fearful pagaantry ; 
 
1IEMAINS POETICAL. 
 
 More dear the spoils of the foughten field, 
 Where the gallant die, and the dastards yield. 
 
 Hut brighter far than morning s beam, 
 And wilder far than the Poet s dream; 
 And milder than the young moon s ring, 
 And softer than the breath of spring 
 And sweeter than note of the early lark, 
 And prouder than valour whose deeds are dark, 
 And dearer than all that others may prove, 
 Are the thousand charms of the maid I love. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 Sweet power, whose high and heavenly art, 
 Flings gladness o er the dreaming heart, 
 And when each pleasure leaves the mind 
 Still linger st with thy ray behind, 
 And shinest fair a beacon light 
 To guide us thro the gloom of night 
 How come thy pleasing hues to bless, 
 And cheer life s weary wilderness! 
 Can wisdom with its boasted power 
 Compare with that etherial hour, 
 When Hope s presaging eagle eye 
 Pierces thro dark futurity; 
 And all her glorious hues unfurl d, 
 
 Illumes and lightens up the world? 
 
 * * 
 
 Man wand ring on a desert clime, 
 Welcomes thy influence divine, 
 And hails with rapture from afar, 
 The lightning of thy brilliant star, 
 Which whispers in each surge a sail, 
 And voices in each sighing gale 
 Glance quick," she cries, "thy straining eye 
 O er yon dark sea; a barge is nigh, 
 Which waits the beckoning of thy hand, 
 To waft thee from this dismal strand, 
 To that dear clime, where roses shed 
 Sweet fragrance from their tufted bed. 
 
REMAINS POF/1ICAL. , 333 
 
 And friendship s voice in soothing strains 
 
 Shall heal thy lonely woes and pains!" 
 
 The dreamer hears! a hrilliant light 
 
 Now bursts upon his dazzled sight! 
 
 His native home appears in view 
 
 In all its vivid colourings true; 
 
 The hawthorn hedge, the ivied oak. 
 
 The jas minc bow r and pebbly brook; 
 
 The porch with woodbine tendrils bound 
 
 Thc^very spot each shrub around 
 
 I ike magic mirror to his gaze 
 
 Reflect I he joys of by-gone days, * * 
 
 The dreamer flics, and in his haste 
 
 The wicket-gale is quickly past;* 
 
 The door is gained all aJI is done, 
 
 A mother s ki5s salutes her son 
 
 lie feels a father s fond embrace 
 
 A sister s tears bedew his face, 
 
 And love s warm gu?h the spirit cheered 
 
 Where lately grief her throne had reared. 
 
 * 
 
 Alas! an envious crash withdrew 
 The sainted image from his view! 
 His dream is past the shadow vain 
 No longer cheers his burning; brain. 
 
 TO A LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Time speeds -time speeds, and though I cannot be, 
 
 The watcher of thy years, and see them glide, 
 
 With a still onwards and unslumberihg tide, 
 
 To the wide ocean of Eternity, 
 
 Yet would I note that day s return, which tells, 
 
 Warm in my heart that thought, even now, which swells. 
 
 Till you or 1, or both of us are dust 
 
 We met in childhood s happy hours, 
 When our young hearts were gay, 
 We lightly trod on Spring s sweet flowers. 
 Which faded soon away 
 
 Again we meet, when fancy (lings, 
 Her shadowy form around us, 
 
 30 
 
234 * HRMAIN8 POETICAL, 
 
 .> * 
 
 When pleasure plumes her golden wing*| 
 And scenes of bliss surround us. 
 
 The wildest glow of gentrous jty , 
 Which Nature scatters o er them, 
 Time s ruthless hand will soon destroy. 
 And stay oot to deplore them. 
 
 Those joys, which youthful feelings heighten, 
 And scorn the vulgar shade: 
 Those beams, which childhood s Tisions brighten, 
 Like morning light must fade. * 
 
 The rainbow bursting thro* the clouds 
 Which dim the early day, 
 Dispels whatever its splendor shrouds* 
 And vanishes away. 
 
 The morning opens to the gaze 
 A fair and glorious sight, 
 But all its bright etherial rays 
 Are soon dispersed in night. 
 
 l<ady, o\ir early care is gone V 
 
 Ere we could count the hour*, 
 And neither now may hasten op 
 To pluck the loveliest flowers. 
 
 Gay morning gives us back the day It/-*;!. /. OT 
 
 Which charm d our eyes before, 
 
 But when our youth has fled away, k *\ 
 
 What should stern Time restore? 
 
 What but the youth and loveliness, 
 Like Spring flow rs frail and fleet 
 The beauty and the comeliness, 
 TJhat fade in odors sweet. 
 
 A WISH 
 
 1 wish thee joy warm, sunny jo 
 Without defeat, without alloy, 
 
REMAINS POETICAL* 
 
 And never to depart 
 For thce, may still the sunbeam s glow, 
 The zephyr? rise, the fiow rcts blow, 
 
 All cheerful, cheer ihy heart. 
 
 May friendship with a smile of truth; 
 Unchanging still in age and youth, 
 
 Still guide and blcs thy way; 
 And well I know, that innocence, 
 tVhich marks thee still, from Pron dencV, 
 
 Shall keep its holy sway. 
 
 And when the hours of merriment, 
 Are gone, and life is nearly spent, 
 
 And weaker grows its chain 
 May mercy take the sting from death, 
 And Conscience trt the latest breath, 
 
 Disarm his gloomy reign*. 
 
 Fhc Jlfufd of Corinth to her lover Palcmon, on taking 
 Jus likeness from the shadow on the wall, which is supposed 
 *o haVe given birth to the first idea of 
 
 PORTRAIT PAINTING; 
 
 [ tmUaltdfrom Hit French of L\ibbf M(nard.] 
 
 t"he lamp. which round me threw its feeble rays* 
 And *>cnt my mind to contemplation s tone, - 
 Thy hallowed image on the wall portray*, 
 And reckless Fancy breaks her raptured zone, 
 To view thy noble form the sovereign of its own. 
 
 Absent Pafcmon! Even in fancy s dfcam 
 The shade which molks the longingf of the heart* 
 More than rwmldanct to the eye can seem. - 
 Allay the pang of separation * dart, 
 JrSll iip the vacant mind, find transient bliss impart. 
 
 Yo fix the w. -loved shade that glimmer* bright, 
 Thy Angel-form, that haunts young Love s first dream, 
 it shH vanish with the flickering light, 
 
. REMAINS - POETICAL. 
 
 Or ruthless morning s rude and gaudy beam, 
 Robbing me of my bliss thy form my constant the^ne; 
 
 Let Love my pencil guide. Let him inspire 
 Thy living features. As thy form I con, 
 Let Mnnury bring her blaze of living fire, 
 To paint thy shape thyself, my Palemon, , 
 Of noble, deeds, the sire of noble sires the 
 
 SPUING. 
 
 Rising on the Zephyr s wing, 
 Like the new-born God of Day, 
 
 Welcome, to the coming Spring, 
 With its bright and ro5y ray. 
 
 Skimming lightly o er the flow rs, 
 liringing sweets and taking none, 
 
 Now in air she gaily tow rs, 
 
 Winning brightness from the sun. 
 
 O er the sleeping forest, shaking 
 Dews and odor from her wing, 
 
 Flow rs and birds alike awaking, 
 From the earth to greet her spring, 
 
 Once again the foliage lives, 
 
 Once again its blessing bringing 
 
 And the drooping year revives, 
 And the lark again is singing. 
 
 Promises anew are given, 
 
 Like the rainbow pledge of yore, 
 Though the sun grow dim ii heaven, 
 
 Ileaveu its brightness shall restore. 
 
 POLITICS AND POETICS. 
 
 Again I stop, again the toil refuse 
 Away for pity s sake, distracting Muse! 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 237 
 
 Nor thus come smiling wilh thy bridal tricks 
 Between my studious face and politics. 
 Is it for thee to mock the frown of fate? 
 Look round, look round, and mark my desperate state. 
 Cannot thy gifted eyes a sight behold, 
 That might have quelled the Lesbian bard of old,* 
 And made the blood of Dante s self run cold? 
 Lo, first this table spread with fearful books, 
 On which, whoe er can help it, never looks; 
 Committee letters, resolutions, hints, 
 And inuendos from the rival prints, 
 Essays to prove, on pain of our undoing, 
 The Tariff bad, but Nullification ruin; 
 Excerpts, and crudities, and sciajTS of libel, 
 That source of wit, the dasturd blockhead s bible. 
 Scarce from the load, a.s from a heap of dead, 
 My poor old Homer shews his honored head, 
 Euripides in darkness yields to fate. 
 
 And Plutarch bends beneath the filthy weight, jj 
 
 Horace alone (tin rogue!) his doom has missed, f 
 
 Arid lies at case upon the pension list* \ 
 
 
 
 I. yield, I yield once more I turn to you, 
 Harsh Politics! And once more hid adieu 
 To the soft dreaming of the Muse s bowers, 
 Their sun-streaked fruits and fairy painted flower*. 
 Farewell, for gentler times, ye laurelled shades, 
 Farewell, ye sparkling brooks, and haunted glades, 
 Where the trim shapes, that bathe in moonlight eavcv 
 Glance through the light and whisper in the leaves. 
 Farewell, farewell, dear Muse, and all thy pleasure, 
 Jfe conquers case, who would U: crown d with leisure! 
 
 JOYS OF HOME. 
 
 When shall I seek with spirit bright, 
 For that dear world that gentle home,- 
 
 Where still in tones of true delight, 
 Each young affection bids me come? 
 
 The home of childhood truest joy, 
 The youthful bosom ever knew, 
 
238 KLJ4AINS - POETICAL. 
 
 Where to the wild and wayward boy, 
 
 His strongest, best attachments grew. 
 Oh, that the eagle s wings were mine, 
 
 Once* more auionj those scenes to pore, 
 Bkst by the ioy for which I pine, 
 
 And faces 1 may see no more. 
 Borne on my fancy s wings I rove, 
 
 To where, in youth, each step was bent; 
 I climb the hill, I trace the grove, 
 Each spot, in fairy pleasures spent. 
 
 1 seek again the murm riilg biook, 
 
 That, by our cottage, wound its coune? 
 Or, where among the rocks it took * 
 
 An aspect rough, an accent hoarse. 
 I wander o er the hamlet grey, 
 
 Whose ruins wear a cheirful mien 
 And gatlit-r neath the ancient hay, 
 
 An .I watch the dances of the green. 
 In memory blest with every scene, 
 
 Perchance, I never more shall see, 
 Fancy shall weave her go u cn dream* . 
 
 And moke her bliss r6alit. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 Who at parting said, we shall mttt a gait. 
 
 Oh, I would smile at human wo, 
 
 Defy the bitter world s disdain, 
 If, as thou siy st, tiro parting now, 
 
 We two slrill meet shall meet again, 
 This parting, to the riven breast, 
 
 Is like some fell and fatal Mow; 
 That promise, like a dream of rest, 
 
 Half balms the wound, half soothes the wot*?- 
 And if that sweet delusive dream, 
 
 Should false and frail and fading prove, 
 1 gather still, a. kindlier beam, 
 
 Still cheering sv.vetly fro-n auovc. 
 What though the life be gloomy now. 
 
 What though the bitter world disdain, 
 I heed them not tis written lo! 
 
 We two shall meet shall meet n 
 
REMAINS POETlOAt,. 
 
 ON PLANTING AND DEDICATING A NONDE- 
 SCRIPT. 
 
 I place Ihcc in a cold retreat, 
 
 Where Summer s Minbcams slightly beat, 
 
 For thee, a (hvcl ling place, I ve made, 
 
 Mont; things of kindred bloom and shadu 
 
 Secure with them, the driving storm, 
 
 T(jy penile stems shall not deform; 
 
 Hut, still throughout thy sacred sphere, 
 
 A Summer influence linger there. 
 
 Innoxious weeds shall never spread, 
 
 Their (V.al influence on thy bed, 
 
 But merry bir.is on sportive wing, 
 
 Shall know thcc as a sacred thing, 
 
 And come, with Zephyr hurrying by, 
 
 With odor, and rich mclotly; 
 
 While spirits, nf a gentle make, 
 
 A wardship of thy world shall take, 
 
 And, viewless, watch tl.ee by the light, 
 
 And dance around thcc through tiitf ni^hU 
 
 Making thy home, a guarded place, 
 
 Secure from all of colder race, 
 
 Arid worthy of the gentle eyes, 
 
 For which, alone, I bid ihec rise, 
 
 STANZAS TO -- IMITATION- 
 
 I. 
 
 On pinions of the swiftest gale, 
 Joyful, thy glad return, I hail 
 
 To Carolina s shore; 
 
 Each sea-born nymph conspired to guide, 
 Thy vessel through the foaming tide, 
 
 And bring thee back once more. 
 
 II. 
 
 With rosy wine and chaplel* gay, 
 I ll celebrate the smiling day 
 
 That brought thee here again; 
 to Friendship s joys I ll sweep the Ly 
 
240 REMAINS POKT1CAL. 
 
 Thy blest return my vere shall fire, 
 it. Escaped the raging main. 
 
 111. 
 
 Skilled in the magic, pleasing trt; 
 Oft hast thou soothed a parent s heart, 
 
 That mourned her drooping child; 
 Relieved her from the gulph of woe, 
 When death prepared his shaft to throw, 
 
 With aspect grim and wild. 
 
 IV. 
 
 From thee Hygeia s gifts arise, 
 On me be placed the Ivy prize, 
 
 Amid the echoing wood: 
 W r here nymnhsand satyrs haunt the grove, 
 Thro* woodland scenes I love to rove, 
 
 Secluded from the crowd. 
 
 IMPROMPTU. TO . 
 
 I dare not gaze upon thy form, 
 
 For, all too bright, 
 Those eyes that speak, those lips that warip, 
 
 Obscure the sight. 
 
 Yet, still I may thy charms rehearse, 
 
 With truth, and well; 
 And in each wild and vagrant verse, 
 
 Describe cajch spoil. 
 
 Thy spirit-speaking eye must be, 
 
 An endless theme; 
 Thy pure soul ever raise in me, 
 
 Some tranced dream. 
 
 Ah, still they wake in me the sigh, 
 
 And flows the tear! 
 Ah, madness thus to venture nigh, 
 
 The spells^ fear. 
 
 They glance too gl ori on ? / still, though sweot, 
 My soul has riven, 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 241 
 
 Even, as the lightning s winged sheet, 
 Comes yet from heaven. 
 
 Thou hast the crown that Virtue wreathes, 
 
 Wiih beauty s spell- 
 And but a word my spirit breathes, 
 
 Farewell farewell! 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Farewell, farewell! I may not brook, 
 That changing eye, that careless look, 
 
 Nor live beneath thy scorn 
 Thy spells are winning still to me, 
 Hut having U eu my liberty 
 
 They are no longer worn. 
 
 Farewell! but though unshrinking thus, 
 I break the ties that coupled us, 
 
 I may not break the spell. 
 Through the long waste of life before, 
 I still must sigh when whisp ring o er* 
 
 ^hat sorrowful farewell! 
 
 FORGET ME NOT. 
 
 Forget me not the Pilgrim s vow, 
 
 Was never breath d more fervently, 
 Than that I murmur to thee now, ^r, 
 
 That thou wilt still remember me. 
 Forget me not!" the fond reflection 
 
 That I shall live within thy thought, 
 Dispels each gloomy recollection, 
 
 And I repeat, "Forget me not." 
 
 Forget me not a sweeter spell, 
 
 Ne er bound or blc&s d the youthful heart* 
 
 eaeh shall fee 1 and cherish well, 
 The pledge each give* when doom d to part 
 3J 
 
UEMAINS POETICAI,. 
 
 Forget me not but mine s t token, 
 By memory ne er to be forgot, 
 
 A heart that may be blighted, broken, 
 But loyes, and will forget thee not. 
 
 TO CECILIA AN IMPROMPTU. 
 
 If placid features, grace and ease, 
 
 The gazer s glance may bind . 
 And Beauty s charms forever please, 
 
 In thee, all these we find. 
 Well may the Muse exulting praise 
 
 Charms, winning all as thine, 
 For thee, attone her softest lays, 
 
 For thee her garlands twine. 
 But what fond Muse may paint thy heart, 
 
 Thy spirit, taste, rcfin d ^ 
 Or, where the Poet s daring art, 
 
 To search thy polish d mind? 
 Twould task a nobler Muse than mine, 
 
 Of s ich a theme to speak, 
 AnJ not one Muse, but all the nine, 
 
 Might prove their labours weak. 
 
 A PRAYER FOR PEACE! 
 
 Imitation. 
 
 But grant us jocund peace, our choicest tfdsurt, 
 Which gives to life fair study s worthy leisure, 
 And wake up holy fear, with chastened pleasure 
 
 Mildly combining. 
 
 The arts around her fecund bosom clinging, 
 View justice flourish, peopled cities springing, 
 And piety, each moral virtue bringing 
 
 In honor shining. 
 
 Where war appears, integrity is blasted, 
 Law overthrown, and every blessing wasted, 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 
 
 Religion crush d, and ull its balm unUstcd, 
 
 Mid desolation, rjj 
 
 {. 
 
 JLong may our Jackson live, his country loving, ,..*| 
 With golden Peace thro all her rallies Amoving, > 
 And Heaven itself fair Union s Sons approving, 
 
 tf ail Happy Nation 1 
 
 rrv 
 
 ",u-, V 
 
 The rose thou gav gt is in decay, 
 
 Its bloom is gone, its odour fled, 
 And men would fiini$ the wreck away, 
 
 For all its early charms are dead. 
 
 Tis beauty s emblem, that poor flow r, 
 
 Thus fading in its early morn 
 The charm, the plaything of an hour, 
 
 Decreed, forever, thence, to scorn. / 
 
 Not so not o4 Though bloom be past, 
 
 And youth with all its charms take wing* 
 In memory will its freshness last, 
 
 Still tended by perpetual spring. 
 
 Thus will 1 keep this withcrM flow r, 
 
 In token of that early bloom; 
 And memory, heedful of her dow r, 
 
 Shall plant it on affection s tomb. 
 
 TO A LADY WEEPING. 
 
 if the leti thou sheddest now, 
 Speak a sorrow, deep and drear, 
 
 Then my own at once shall flow, 
 I will give thcc tear.ipr tear. 
 
 But if dreams of fancied wo, 
 
 Bring to view the crysul rill, , j ,f ;H 
 So lovely do they make you now, 
 
 I would have you weep them 
 
244 REMAINS - POETICAU 
 
 [Tt-atiMlated from the Iliad Book 3, t> 15.] 
 
 When front to front the hostile troops appeared, 
 And gleaming spears a bristling front upreared; 
 Paris, the foremost of the Trojan hands, 
 His fiery warriors, clothed in mail, commands. j 
 A Panther s spoil, the gaily spotted hide 
 Streamed from his shoulders: glittering at his side, 
 Swung his bright sword, to deal the deadly blow; 
 His hack sustained the loudly-twanging bow, 
 With threatening spear, and goM-embroidered shield 
 lie hurPd the gauntlet on the war clad field, 
 And dared each Grecian Hero to advance, 
 To wield the sword, and toss the weighty lance. 
 As rabid Lion from the* mountain brakes 
 With hollow roar the echoing forest shakes, 
 And darts, like gleaming lightning, in the air, 
 On bounding roe, or proudly antlered deer; 
 And, while he keeps the hunter s dogs at bay, 
 Devour* in h:isle the unresisting prey; 
 Thus Menelaus joyed when he beheld 
 The god-like Paris bonding to the field, 
 And from his chariot with a lofty bound, 
 With clanging arms he reached the dusty ground, 
 And hastened with a warrior s gen roua heat, 
 Thua, point to point, the enamoured boy to meet. 
 * But conscious guilt the Hero s heart oppressed 
 And pallid fear usurped his manly breast, 
 \Vith shameful naste, he fled the martial fight, 
 And shunned th effect of injured honor s right. 
 As traveler wandering in the mazy path 
 Retreats and shuns the venomed serpent s wrath 
 Whosfj darting tongue, and warning coil bespeak 
 The fatal vengeance which he means to wreakj 
 Thus fearful terror seized the Phrygian boy 
 Whose passion roused the angry arms of Troy 
 Nor bravely dared the anxious foe to fight, 
 Hut sought for safety in inglorious flight. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF EURIPlDES.-CiioausoF MW>EA 
 
 Should Passion rule o er Reason s throne, 
 And wave Love s sceptre, full of ire, 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 243 
 
 Forgetful of soft Pity s moan, 
 Lost in the storm of wild Desire: 
 While Honor Justice love of Fame 
 All perish in the maddening flame. 
 
 9 * 
 
 But should the Gods propitious hear, ? 
 
 Ar.ii grant their suppliant votary s prayer, 
 The hallowed wish the vow sincere 
 The transport soft. the tender tear 
 And Truth which time nor fate can mote- 
 Attend the steps of sacred love. 
 
 * 
 
 And, what is he, whose frenzied brain, 
 
 lias felt that deeply throbbing pain, 
 
 Whic.i Cupid s maddened votaries prove? 
 
 Our dove-eyed maidens call it LOVE. 
 
 A being formed by magic power 
 
 Created in a single hour. 
 
 Now bending tvith adoring knee. 
 
 In maddening youthful ccstacy, 
 
 And deeply gazing all the while, 
 
 To catch the play of Beauty s smile. * 
 
 Her glance it makes his bosom thrill 
 
 And heave against his urgent will. 
 
 Her smile it is to him a star, 
 
 That lights to glory from afar. 
 
 Her touch it makes his pulse* swell/ 
 
 As none but lovers hearts can tell. * 
 
 Her kiss it makes the coward brave, 
 
 And lights him to a glorious grave. 
 
 
 
 Ohl should incontancy but lower, 
 This being kindled in an hour, 
 When cold neglect or scorn estrange*, 
 This being, in a minute, changes. 
 His eye indignant roves above, 
 Disdainful of a woman s lover 
 Her whom he fondly loved of late, 
 He now can view with scornful hate. 
 His pulses in his bosom beat, 
 At every glance with maddening beat. 
 A vivid and a piercing pain, 
 Hurries like lightning thro his brain. 
 
46 R B M A I X S 10 RT 1 C AL, 
 
 And frenzied by a lover s scorn, 
 He oyrses Heaven that he was born. 
 
 LINES TO -- 
 
 Oh! by that genuine sympathy 
 Which draws my very soul to theej 
 Which touches in my faithful breast 
 Accordant notes \vhen4hou art blest; 
 And makes me feel with tenfold srasri 
 Each anguish which assaults thy heart 
 O er thee its pure vibration spread, 
 Pure, sensitive in heart and head; 
 Impel thine eyes to trace each line, 
 Thy soul to feel they must be mine, 
 Which seeks on this revolving day, 
 To chase corroding care away: 
 Lure from thy soul the embryo sigh, 
 iExpel the tea r that dims thine eye, 
 Pluck from thy memory by stealtfi 
 Kevcrted thought, that foe to health, 
 And \yith prophetic ken explore, 
 What ripening time has ytl in store, 
 And Hope return, a truant guest, 
 Long stranger to that aching breast, 
 
 SONNET TO MARION. 
 
 Why dwells my soul with rapture on thy form* 
 Why, to my pillowM visions comes serene, 
 Thy imaged sweetness why, amid the scene, 
 
 Of human tumult, and the driving storm, 
 
 Of faction, does thy beauty still arise, 
 
 While my car drinks, with melody replete 
 Sweet tales of thee and of thy converse sweet, 
 
 While still unclosed, remain my kindled eyes? 
 
 And when the unobtrusive slumber steals, 
 
 Nestling upon my pillow, still, sweet thought, 
 Prone ever to the one, is then inwrought, 
 
 Among my dreams, and my glad hope reveals, 
 
 The uncurtained future, and I see thee then, 
 
 And wake, and wish, and strive to dream again. 
 
KtMA lNS POETICAL*. 247 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 That velvet down, that blushing check* t >^ 
 Those eyes that eloquently speak; 
 That modest front where CANDOR dwells, 
 Where ISHOCCVCB each art repels: 
 Those virgin lips, whose glowing red 
 Arc still with sense and sweetness fed; 
 Those smiling dimples, chaste yet free, 
 Those ar:hed brows turned by symmetry; 
 That skin s pure spotless dazzling hue, 
 Prone to betray ih* et-herial blue 
 Which those rich veins of health impart, 
 And serve to indicate thy heart, 
 Which, ere youth s visions flit away, 
 Seems ready for a brighter day; 
 These teach us, and in thrse we reid 
 The beauty and the good, indeed. 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 "For her who can best understand Ihem." 
 
 These pretty flowrets whence are they 
 From what bright isle of Indian aeaa, 
 Borne on the pinions of the breeze, 
 
 And won from regions faraway? 
 
 Vain trophies! from your tufted green, 
 
 Why came ye to a rival sky? 
 A fairer flowret here is seen, 
 
 And ye are conquered ye must die! 
 
 C 
 
 What though ye have the lily ? 
 The rose s blush of rich delight, 
 Of both tri* odour and the glow-- 
 The graces of that brow that wears, 
 Would shame your high pretence *> low, 
 That ye would melt away in tears. 
 
248 REMAINS POETICAL. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 When hope ftnt taught affection fond to smile, 
 
 How glowed the bosom with pathetic fire! 
 
 When love energic, deep concealed erewhile, 
 
 Burst forth in eloquence of wild desire: 
 
 When absence taught my breast what twas to love: 
 
 When virtue beauty-^pathoi every grace 
 
 In all thy actions won me to approve, 
 
 When geperal smiles of sympathy, thy face 
 
 In virtuous modesty, without alloy 
 
 Bedecked: what felt my passion-throbbing soul? 
 
 Oh! who can say? Weak languogp, thou enjoy 
 
 Thy partial reign: I would not thee control. 
 
 My feelings when or how can I impart 
 
 Ah! who can find a language for the heart? 
 
 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 THE WORM DOCTOR. 
 
 Dr. Alcucius boasts his skill, 
 
 To worms destroy with purge and pill 
 
 In saying thus he tells no lie, 
 
 As I will prove and show you why 
 
 For scripture says in plainest terms, 
 
 That men are nothing more than worms. 
 
 TRUE CANDOR. 
 
 Dick with long glance and arch grimace. 
 Will cringe and flatter to your face, 
 But, when you ve turned your back on Dick, 
 He would not do so mean a trick, * 
 
 GIVING THE WALL A JOKE VERSIFIED. 
 
 A Pedant once his Pupil met, 
 
 And bade him from the wall to get 
 
REMAINS POETICAL. 249 
 
 He, to a rascal, would not give 
 The wall as long as he should Vive. 
 The Pupil, rich in wit and whim, 
 Replied, "I will" and gave it him. 
 
 LYING. 
 [From the French of Voltairt.] 
 
 Tom, impudently calls me mad, 
 I, ignorantly, called hint wise; 
 
 Trust nol what by cither s said, 
 I lied he lies! 
 
 TOM S WIT. 
 
 Exhaustless still is Tommy s wit! 
 
 Y T ou ask me why, 
 
 And I reply, 
 Because he never uses it 
 
 Or, 
 Tom s wit will be exhausted never t 
 
 And with what cause, you ask me dryly- 
 
 Because, he use* it so shyly, 
 Little or none, would last forever. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 Dick when a beggar p-ess d him sore, 
 Seeking a simple groat,- 
 
 "1 give-thee u//, J can no more"- 
 He said, and gave him nought! 
 
 THEHI/MANF/MILY. 
 
 This motley, uni /ersal c 
 
 Hav* ail t common aim in viaw 
 
250 RFMAINS POETICAL. 
 
 And each vith close and earnest uit, 
 Is for the leaves and flmv rs and fruit; 
 Yet each pursues a diflvrent way 
 Some drink, some dance and othert pray; 
 Eroh at his fellow sneers or laughs, 
 Whether he dances, prays or quufls 
 The libertine, the sot, the monk, 
 Yet ill are blind, and all are drunk. 
 
 TO A SONGSTRESS. 
 [From the French.] 
 
 Sweetly you breMhe the melting lay, 
 And. Oh! how happy should 1 be, 
 
 If on your lip, I might repay, 
 The bliss that now it gives to me.