AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW. (continued 4)

The best grey pig iron of American manufacture, superior in strength, and equal in all other respects to the Scotch, is now sold in the New York market at $45 per ton. Good grey iron of the usual character, is worth $35 per ton, and there is no question that forge pig could be obtained by the manufacturer of bar iron, for $25. If it were even to cost $30, it is still cheaper than Staffordshire iron, far less fit for the purpose, can be imported. The Muirkirk iron, so valuable for the casting of machinery, used to cost to import it, at the present rate of duty, $55 and $56. The Bennington furnace commenced the competition with it at this rate, but has been compelled, after driving the Scotch iron from the market, to sell at $45, which is as low as the foreign could be imported at a minimum duty.

Taking the cost of forge pig at $25, the price of converting into bars by charcoal, would be, according to the Philadelphia memorial, $18, and the ton of wrought iron ought to cost no more than $43. We however believe that this cost is far underrated, and that even by the aid of rollers in a part of the process, iron of the best quality could not be produced under $50. This is as cheap as merchantable English puddled iron can be imported, paying 25 per cent. duty. But, even if the pig cost $35, and the wrought iron, $60, it is still cheaper than the English iron, worth in that market 10l. 10s. can be imported; and the latter is the cheapest which can be obtained in that country, suitable for the manufacture of anchors and chain-cables. At the present moment, however, iron cannot be produced so cheaply, for the forges and furnaces may be considered as in a great measure new, and undergoing all the difficulties of new establishments. Capital above all is wanting, from a want of confidence in the success of the enterprize, growing out of a fear of the repeal of the duty, and the recollection of the former catastrophe; and even credit, so essential where capital is deficient, is at a low ebb. Hence, if profit be made, it rather centers in the capitalist who makes the advances, than in the maker. Thus we have known iron in the bloom, sold at $45 per ton; and, when finished for the market by rolling, bring $100. The latter price, however, could not long be maintained, and has descended to $75 and $80, which still leaves the greater part of the profit to the capitalist.

But we are of opinion, that the manufacture of iron by charcoal is not that to which our country should look for its final supply. It is at best a precarious resource, and its production must diminish with the advance of agriculture, and the consequent demand, while every increase in the price of land must raise the cost. It is then to a total change in the seat and mode of manufacture, that we are to be hereafter beholden for the supply of this first necessary of civilized life. A change will first take place in the sites of the two branches; pig iron will continue to be manufactured by charcoal, and the bar converted by coal. For this the great coal field of Pennsylvania will afford the earliest facilities. No doubt can be entertained that the more freely burning varieties of anthracite will work well in the puddling furnace, as they have been successfully employed in the rolling and slitting of bar iron. When the same species of coal is mixed with charcoal in the blast furnace, it produces excellent forge pig, and thus the two species of fuel may be advantageously united, although the coal alone will not answer the purpose. The value of this coal in the mine and the cost of raising it, is as yet less than that of bituminous coal in any part of Europe, and thus we cannot avoid concluding that when it shall be brought into use, our manufacturers might compete with the English even if unprotected by duty. Our fields of bituminous coal are yet too distant from dense population, and too far removed from easy communication, to be looked to at present, but unless modes be invented by which the anthracite coal can be used without mixture in the blast furnace, these will become the ultimate seats of the manufacturing industry of the United States.

But for reducing the price of iron, by competition within our country, to a level with that of other countries, capital is required, and to divert it to this purpose, the capitalist must feel assured that he shall derive a certain profit from its investment, and that he shall be subjected to no fluctuations in price and still more in demand, from a vacillating course in the government. The establishment of works so perfect as to compete in their manipulations with the English, is a serious business, and till they be established in numbers, we must be dependent on foreign countries for no small proportion of the important article of iron that we consume. A forge for manufacturing puddled iron cannot be profitable unless its machinery be kept in regular employ, for the cost of that will be the same in all cases. This constant employment cannot be given by fewer than eighteen reverberatory furnaces, and the first cost of the works will not be less than $100,000, of which the machinery alone costs $50,000. To supply an establishment of this magnitude with pig, would employ three blast furnaces working with coke, or six with charcoal, the cost of which would reach at least $120,000. The value of the manufactured article would not fall short of a million of dollars, and would require to carry it on a floating capital of not less than $250,000. Thus it appears that a system of works for the manufacture of iron, which should compete to advantage with those of England, would find employment for a capital of half a million of dollars, even with the advantage of credit, and the ready conversion of its securities into cash through the banks. So long, then, as the policy of our government is unsettled, we can hardly expect that so vast an operation can be undertaken either by individual or by corporate funds. A division of the business has been indeed attempted; there is more than one puddling forge in the United States that relies upon the purchase of pig for its supply. These unquestionably do a fair and profitable business, but do not act to the same advantage as they would were the two branches of the manufacture united. The chief difficulty under which they labour is, that they must consult, in their location, convenience in the supply of the raw material, and must therefore neglect what would in the abstract be the most important consideration, the supply of fuel. Thus, at least one of the puddling forges of which we have spoken, is compelled to use imported fuel, and none are situated where alone the nation could derive essential benefit from them, immediately over a rich bed of coal.

It is not pretended to maintain that the present duties on iron are not too high in general for a permanent rate, and that the distribution of their rates is not injudicious. All that we would contend for is, that there shall be no sudden change in the principle, by which a valuable branch of industry would be at once destroyed beyond the possibility of re-establishment. We have been able to discover no argument in the blacksmith's petition, or in the report of the majority of the committee of the Senate, in favour of an entire repeal of duty on raw iron, that does not apply equally to the articles manufactured from it; and we presume that those useful and respectable mechanics would think their principles carried a step too far, should they be made to bear upon the fabrics of their own industry. We are willing, in addition, at once to admit that where the scale has been founded upon improper principles, it ought to be instantly changed.

To attain the first object, as we presume it will not be contended that iron shall ever be imported free of duty, while the nation needs a revenue to meet its current expenditure, let a minimum be fixed beyond which it shall not descend, and which will, evidently, when correctly viewed, place our consumers of iron on an equal footing with those who pay direct taxes in other countries; to this minimum, after a certain definite period, let the duty be gradually and almost insensibly reduced. Less than twenty-five years would probably be insufficient to effect this without incurring a wanton waste of property. We are aware, indeed that our national legislature can perform no act which its successors may not annul, but a hearty concurrence on the part of Mr. Dickerson and Mr. Hayne, representing, as they do, the two great opposing interests in this question, would be a pledge that might be acted upon by capitalists. The expediency of investment would then become a subject of strict calculation, and we do not fear the result.

As to the injudicious adjustment of the scale, the higher rates of duties fall upon articles, which under present circumstances are not capable of being protected, except by actual prohibition. These are the small forms of rod and round iron, hoops and sheets. The introduction of the joint operations of puddling and rolling, has altogether changed the manner of manufacturing these in Europe; they are now, with the exception of sheets, made directly from the pig, by as few operations as common bars; our own puddling forges are adopting the same method, and so soon as they are capable of supplying the market, must drive out the articles of these descriptions, made by those who use merchantable bar iron, and roll it down or slit it. The slitting and rolling mills which are conducted on this last principle, are therefore beyond the reach of support. The inequality in the duty too, is more than the cost of performing the additional operation upon the bar, and is hence rather injurious than otherwise, to the interest of the producers of the raw iron, while it bears with great severity upon those consumers who are themselves manufacturers of hardware. The duty upon these articles should then be adjusted so as to bear the proportion to that upon bar iron, which their values do in the foreign market whence they are derived.

On the other hand, there are certain articles, of which the price of the raw material, whether cast or bar iron, forms the chief value, and which are actually convertible to the same purposes with their base. On these, there can be no question, that every consideration of policy and justice requires that the duty should be raised. Several articles of this description are enumerated by the Philadelphia memorialists, where the fabric is of wrought iron; and it is obvious that there are others, made at a blast furnace from the metal at its first reduction, which might be used as a substance for pig. Such articles, however, cannot be numerous; for iron is, after all, a material of such low price, that it can be hardly wrought into any important species of goods, in which the value of the workmanship will not exceed the cost of the raw article. The ad valorem duty must, therefore, in most cases, be an efficient protection, both to the maker of iron and the manufacturer of hardware. Where however it is not, an easy principle will restore the irregularity; for it is only necessary to collect the duties by weight, and affix to them the same rates which the raw iron pays.

The plan we have proposed, of continuing the present duty for a limited time, is consistent with the policy of all civilized nations, who do not hesitate to grant monopolies for definite periods to the inventers of new processes in the arts, and most of whom give equal encouragement to those who merely introduce them. Our government, indeed, has never adopted the latter principle, but it may well be questioned whether it have not in this way prevented the introduction of many important branches of manufacture. The former has been adopted in its full extent, and its utility is unquestioned. If, then, it be sound and highly profitable policy, to grant a monopoly to individuals for limited periods, thereby excluding our own citizens from advantages which in most cases lie open to foreign countries, much more will it be politic and profitable, to protect a whole class of our own artificers from external competition for a similar period, leaving the price to be lessened by the competition that security, from a change of system, will infallibly create. The usual limit of a patent right having been found efficient in drawing forth inventive talent, an equal duration of protecting duty might be depended upon as sufficient to induce the investment of capital in a business whose processes are understood, and in relation to which strict calculations can be made. But these protecting duties must not suddenly cease; for if they do, a spirit of speculation, both on our part and on that of foreign merchants, would infallibly throw into the market an excess of the article from abroad; and although the importer might not be exempted wholly from the ruinous consequence of the over trade, infallible destruction would visit our own establishments. Such was the case in 1816 and 1817. The losses on the iron trade were not confined to our own manufacturers, but visited the importers, whether British or American, and reached in their remote consequences, but with diminished effect, the forges and furnaces of England. The latter were, however, protected by the whole capital of the merchant, which was annihilated before the ruin could reach them, while the American establishments were directly exposed to it. The adventurous spirit of British commerce, in fact, produced on this occasion an effect similar to that which the people of the continent have erroneously ascribed to the government of that country. New markets are no sooner opened, than loads of British fabrics are thrown in, and necessarily sacrificed; those who see no more than their own domestic misfortunes, naturally ascribe to the policy of the nation, what is in fact the misjudged enterprise of rash individuals. The effect has, however, been in many cases the same, as if the act had been the result of a deliberate national system; for the foreign industry has been often prostrated, while the capital of the British has enabled it to bear the momentary shock, and then to replace its losses by the undivided enjoyment of the disputed market.

Having proposed that the duty on imported iron, after remaining for a limited period at its present rate, should thereafter be gradually reduced to a minimum, it remains that we should examine at what rate this minimum should be fixed. This we conceive may be adjusted merely as a question of revenue. Raw iron being a material of great weight, in proportion to its value, cannot be smuggled; it will therefore bear, among all articles, nearly the highest rate of impost, in proportion to its cost. This rate of duty should be calculated upon the higher qualities of wrought and bar iron, and be applied equally to all the different shades of each article. For a wise policy would dictate that the import of the inferior sorts should be more impeded than that of the best descriptions. This is analogous to the system at present sanctioned by law, and is dictated by sound views. Fixing then the minimum duty at about twenty-five per cent, on the value of the better qualities of the two varieties of raw iron, it will amount to about seven and a half dollars on the pig, and fifteen dollars on the bar. To this limit we believe that the duty may be finally reduced, without causing injury to our own trade, provided the present duties remain in force for fourteen years, and be then gradually lessened to this assumed minimum.

It will be seen, that our views neither go the whole length of those of the sticklers for either system, the tariff or the anti-tariff,—and we fear, that, at the moment, they will be equally objectionable to the advocates of both. We however cannot but believe, that they are founded upon sound and just principles. We give the fullest meed of praise to that policy which has recalled into existence by a protecting duty, the most important of manufactures, because the basis of all the rest. But, we cannot see that it would be judicious to continue this duty, after it shall have produced its whole vivifying effect. While, therefore, on the one hand, it appears to be no more than a fulfilment of a solemn contract, that the manufacture of iron shall be protected, we cannot urge that that protection should continue forever; and, in relation to the diminution of duty, we conceive that it ought to be gradual, and not sudden. Modified in conformity with such principles, we conceive that a "judicious tariff" might be rendered popular in all parts of the Union.

In the northern and eastern states, the tariff policy has no opponents, except in the merchants engaged in foreign commerce; in the western States, the opinion in favour of the present system, is almost unanimous. The southern states, and a portion of the mercantile interest of the north, are alone in direct opposition to protecting duties. The agricultural interest of the north and west, seeing and feeling directly the benefits which the establishment of manufactures confers upon it, has given what is called the American system,—which is in principle, if it err occasionally in detail, the sound and true policy of the nation—its full and undivided support. We cannot but hope to see the day arrive, when the mist raised by designing politicians, and soi disant economists, shall be dissipated, and when the southern states will see that they are not merely indirectly, but as directly benefited by the creation of manufacturing industry in the northern districts of the Union, as they have been by that part of the system which has secured them a complete monopoly of the home market for their own products. Of all the states of the Union, Louisiana has derived the most immediate and important advantages from protecting duties, but they have also been shared by her neighbours; and we cannot hesitate to conclude, that, next to Louisiana, South Carolina has been most benefited. The cotton of India, which would have been preferred, from its low price, for the manufacture of the coarse articles with which our factories have in all cases commenced their business, is in fact prohibited; the creation of the growth of sugar has occupied land and capital, which, if applied to the culture of cotton, must have driven the whole upland staple from the markets of the world; and, more than all, a growing domestic demand has arisen, which foreign interference cannot controul or diminish. In return for such advantages, it might fairly have been expected that some burthen would fall upon the southern states, and no doubt it might appear to be capable of plausible proof, that a portion of the increased duties amounted to an actual tax. But this appearance on which so much stress has been laid, is only upon paper, and does not exist in reality, for we believe that they may be challenged, and must fail if they attempt, to prove that the cost of the production of any one staple has been in the slightest degree increased. We believe that it has, on the contrary, diminished. It would lead us too far to show how this has been the natural result: we appeal therefore to the fact alone.

And so in respect to the clamour which it has been attempted to excite among importing merchants, we might appeal to the growing prosperity of that interest, as a proof that the clamour has no foundation. We however believe that the obvious cause lies, in the latter instance, upon the surface, and exists in the plan of credit duties, the wise conception of the illustrious Hamilton, by which, so long as the limit at which smuggling would be profitable, or consumption diminished, is not reached, every addition of duty increases the effective capital, and adds to the net profits of the importer. In illustration of this view of the subject, we may cite the well-established fact, that most of the great mercantile fortunes of our commercial cities, have owed their more important increase to the judicious employment of the capital, thus in effect loaned by the government without interest.

To use the words of the majority of the Committee of the Senate of the United States, quoted at the head of this article:

"Of all the metals, iron contributes most to the wealth, the comfort, and the improvement of society. It enters most largely into the consumption of all ranks and constitutions of men. It furnishes the mechanic with his tools, the farmer with the implements of his husbandry, the merchant with the means of fitting out his ship, and the manufacturer with the very instruments of his wealth and prosperity."

The wisdom of Europe draws very different conclusions, from a similar view of the importance of iron, from those which are deduced by the majority of the Committee of the Senate.

"The preparation of iron has become the most essential branch of industry, in consequence of the immediate profit it produces to the masters of forges, of the general good that society draws from it, and of the advantages it offers to governments. No other occupies so many arms, produces so active or so constant a circulation of money, or exercises so direct an influence on the riches of the state and the ease of the people. It is therefore the particular interest of every government to favour it, to sustain it by the most efficacious measures, and to carry it to the highest degree of prosperity." Karsten—(Introduction.)

The measures proposed for this purpose, include bounties, the advance of capital, and the prohibition of foreign iron. Such is the uniform practice of by far the greater part of the nations of Europe. The governments receive the most advantageous returns for such protection.

"In the imposts of all kinds, that it derives directly or indirectly from the establishments themselves, the workmen employed, and the numerous personnel whose existence is linked to that of the manufacture of iron. But that which ought most particularly to fix the attention of government, consists in the precious advantages which are derived from it by rural economy, by other branches of industry, and which it affords for internal security and external defence." Karsten.

It has been seen, that we cannot consider that measures of such extent are required in our own country. Still, were we, as all European nations are, in direct contact with rival or hostile powers, their necessity would be imperative.

Art. V.—The Siamese Twins. A Satirical Tale of the Times, with other Poems, by the Author of Pelham, &c. J. & J. Harper: New-York: pp. 308.

This production furnishes one of the most remarkable instances to be found in the history of literature, of the wide difference between notoriety and merit. No work ever came from the press whose anticipated excellence was more loudly proclaimed, and none, we are persuaded, ever more disappointed high-wrought expectation. That the author of Pelham was about to favour the world with a great poetical production of a satirical character, was announced in the different periodical works, with all that elation and pomposity which indicated the assurance that some important addition to the poetical literature of England, was about to take place. Prophetic eulogy was strained to the uttermost. Public anxiety for the appearance of the mighty work, became all that the booksellers could wish. Every one was not only eager to read, but prepared to admire, and impatient to praise—for the fashion of praising this author, whether he wrote well or ill, had set in; and who in this age of polite pretensions, would dare to be unfashionable?

Nor has the attentive author himself been deficient on this occasion, in the fatherly duty of bespeaking public opinion in favour of his offspring. In a preface remarkable for that startling species of modesty by which a man becomes the trumpeter of his own greatness, he predicts that, if not immediately, at least in eight or ten years hence, his works will make such an impression, as to occasion a revolution in the poetical taste of mankind, and become the model of a new school in the "Divine Art." The confidential puffers to whom the idea was imparted, in despite of whatever doubts they might entertain on the subject, scrupled not to give publicity to the prediction. A work destined to such an illustrious career, could not fail to be endowed with an exalted and overpowering excellence of some kind, and also of a kind different altogether from any that had hitherto given satisfaction to the readers of poetry. The poetical tastes and habits of our nature were, in fact, to be entirely changed by the influence of this mighty satire. No wonder, therefore, that curiosity respecting the work was sufficiently awakened to occasion for it a large demand on its first appearance.

Many of the conductors of the periodical press, who gave publicity to this exaggerated strain of praise, were, no doubt, sceptical as to its being altogether merited, and must have acted from motives either of interest or of courtesy. Yet there may have been some who believed in the possibility of the wonders which were predicted. Indeed, in this strange age, when miracles are scarcely to be accounted wonders—when ships are propelled without wind, and carriages without horses—when schoolboys and journeymen printers overturn governments and make and unmake kings with almost as much facility as the manager of a play-house casts the character of a drama; what extraordinary things may not with propriety be credited? Even philosophy may now, without reproach, believe in absurdity; and thoughtless paragraphists, without being laughed at, may be permitted to suppose that an adventurous rhymester may speak truth, when he asserts that he is about to revolutionize the principles of poetical taste and composition!

When mutation is the order of the day, why may not human nature itself be changed? When all physical obstructions to locomotion, and all impediments to the march of mind, are yielding to the ingenuity and activity of man, why may not his own natural feelings and dispositions also yield, and become changed? But hold—the author of this Siamese satire has discovered that they have already changed! Not merely have the opinions and pursuits of society taken a new direction, and the habits and views of the present, become different from those of the past generation—this would be readily admitted—but a much more important alteration in the constitution of man, he affirms, has taken place. It is not only the condition, but the nature of the species that he asserts to be changed. With the last generation, all the old impulses of the heart—all susceptibility of love or hatred, friendship or enmity, pity or revenge—all feelings of pride, avarice, ambition, or love of fame—all emotions of joy, grief, anger, remorse—all generosity, charity, desire of happiness, and self-preservation—all, all are passed away!

"Has not a new generation," our author asks, in his odd and hardly intelligible preface, "arisen? Has not a new impetus been given to the age? Do not new feelings require to be expressed? and are there not new readers to be propitiated, who sharing but in a feeble degree the former enthusiasm, will turn, not with languid attention, to the claims of fresh aspirants."

These are some of the changes which have brought about, as he imagines—the circumstances that call for the new and "less enthusiastic" school of poetry, which, founded by him, is to secure the admiration of at least part of the present, and the whole of the ensuing generation. "A poet," he says, "who aspires to reputation, must be adapted to the coming age, not rooted to that which is already gliding away." He admits that "the worn out sentiments, the affectations and the weaknesses of our departed bards, may, by the elder part of the community, be still considered components of a deep philosophy, or the signs of a superior mind." But, for this unfortunate circumstance, which militates so much against the immediate success of his new school, he consoles himself with the persuasion that "the young have formed a nobler estimate of life, and a habit of reasoning, at once founded upon a homelier sense, and yet aspiring to more elevated conclusions."

What this, as well as many other equally awkward sentences in this presumptuous preface, exactly means, it is not easy to say. Our sons, on whose admiration of his poetry, Mr. Bulwer depends for the success of his new system, are, in order to qualify themselves for relishing its beauties, to form a nobler estimate than we entertain of life, while their habits of reasoning are to be founded on a homelier sense; and yet, homely as they are to be in their reasoning, they are to aspire to more elevated conclusions! If, indeed, such inconsistencies are to characterize our sons; if their intellects are to be so utterly confused and perplexed as is here predicted, they may possibly become admirers of the new school, of which the redoubtable satire before us is to be the origin. But we hope better things of our posterity. We cannot think that their natural feelings will vary so very far from our own, as to induce them to prefer insipid verbosity and unintelligible doggerel, to the animating strains of genuine poetry, or the sprightly wit and stinging ridicule of true satire.

Since the work which was to perform such miracles has appeared, and has been found so egregiously to disappoint expectation, why do those who puffed it on trust, still continue to extol it? The expression of their favourable anticipations might be excused; for they may have believed all that they asserted. But their eyes must now be open. The most prejudiced, on perusing the work, must be convinced of its imbecility as a satire, and its insipidity as a poem. Why, then, persist in error? Complaisance to the prevailing fashion, and a desire to swim with the current, may be the feelings which generally prompt to such conduct. But they are poor apologies for wilfully deceiving the public in a matter so essential to the interests of poetical literature. The critic who knowingly recommends an undeserving poem, ought to be aware that he is contributing to destroy the public confidence in all new poetry; for when men find that tame and uninteresting works are so freely recommended, they very naturally conclude that the times produce none others worthy of recommendation.

We should think, indeed, that experience had, by this time, taught the world the little reliance which ought to be placed generally on contemporary criticism, particularly that description of it usually found in newspapers. But the wide diffusion of this species of periodical work, gives them an influence which no experience, however palpable, of their erroneous judgments in literary matters, has yet been able to counteract. The public, in truth, has hitherto had its attention but little drawn towards this subject. The fate of a new book seems to be a matter so uninteresting to any but the author and the publisher, that whether editors speak of it favourably or unfavourably, or pass over it with entire neglect, is considered of no importance. It is forgotten that good literature forms the chief and most permanent glory of a country; that its prosperity is, therefore, of much national value, and ought, for the public benefit, to be assiduously promoted. But the chance of good literature being properly encouraged, will be ever extremely small, so long as worthless productions are forced into even temporary eclat, by those ready and often glowing commendations of careless editors, which must always, more or less, give direction to public patronage.

There is an erroneous opinion, unfortunately too prevalent among all classes, that no book can become generally noticed and much praised in the periodical works, but in consequence of its merit. To those who hold this opinion, the system of reverberating praise from one journal to another, must be unknown. In this country this system is, at present, carried to a great extent. It is chiefly produced by indolence or want of leisure, preventing our editors from carefully reading and judging for themselves, aided by a desire which actuates many of them to be thought fashionable in their opinions. The literary idol of the day is generally set up in the English metropolis. Of course, the fashion of worshipping him commences there. We soon hear of him on this side of the ocean. We wait not to examine whether he be entitled to homage. We take that for granted, since we are told that he is considered so in London. With slavish obsequiousness, we hasten to follow the capricious example of the great metropolis, and shout pæans for the fashionable idol, with as much zeal as if we really discerned in his works merit sufficiently exalted to entitle him to such applause, although the probability is, that, while we are bestowing it, we have scarcely glanced over his productions.

Now all this is, on our parts, exceedingly ridiculous and irrational. It not only exposes our servility, but it betrays our ignorance of many of the temporary excitements in favour of certain authors and their works, which take place in London. It shows that we are not aware of the fact, that, in the majority of cases, the rage for a new book, is owing to circumstances not at all connected with its merit. An influential and enterprising publisher,—a striking or a popular subject,—a sounding title,—a bold,—a wealthy or an eccentric author,—and, above all, a continued series of well-managed puffs, invariably do much more towards making a new book fashionable, than any excellence it may possess; and the inducement to purchase it is more frequently the knowledge that it is fashionable, than the conviction that it is good. Hence, it is to their title-pages, rather than to their nature or quality, that new books are mostly indebted for their immediate success. Their permanent success—that is, their enduring fame—is another matter. Merit, and merit only, can secure that; for it is the result of the cool and deliberate approbation which is awarded by the judgment of mankind, when the adventitious circumstances which first excited attention towards the book, have passed away, and can operate no longer on curiosity. The history of literature amply proves this. Books have often had, for a time, great mercantile value, and been highly profitable to the booksellers, that have been utterly worthless in a literary point of view. Of this fact the book-dealers are so well aware, that, rather than risk the expense of publishing the most beautiful composition of an unknown author, they will pay largely for manuscripts of the merest trash, from the pen of one to whom some lucky accident has already drawn public attention. Many of our well-meaning echoers of the London puffs of new books, are certainly ignorant of this circumstance, or they would not lend their aid to give circulation and temporary repute to much of the vile literature, which, under the names of novels, poems, travels, &c. the press of London has so largely poured forth, during the last eight or ten years, to the great deterioration not only of the literary taste, but of the manners and morals of the age.

It is indeed a sad mistake to suppose, that nothing but the literary excellence of a new book, renders it saleable. Yet it is a mistake so very general, that the booksellers find that the most effectual mode of recommending a new work, is, to allege that it sells rapidly. Who does not know, when a book with the reputation of being in great demand, comes amongst us, the eagerness with which it is sought after? No matter how dull it may be, while it is considered saleable, it is perused with delight. A thousand beauties are discovered in it, which cool and unprepossessed judgment could never discern; and, as to faults, although they should stare the deluded reader in the face, as thickly and visibly as trees in a forest, he will doubt the accuracy of his own sensations, rather than admit that he perceives them. Such, over weak minds, is the magic influence of a fashionable name,—nay, such is the influence, when the name is only supposed to be fashionable.

That the work before us would sell well, at least for a season, let its poetry be ever so bad, was to be expected, from the circumstances under which it appeared. Its publishers, Colburn and Bentley, are now the most fashionable in London, and are considered to possess more influence over the periodical works, than even the magnificent Murray; its author is a man of bustle, boldness, and notoriety, who has acquired considerable repute as the writer of three or four novels, which got into extensive circulation by professing, however untruly, to give genuine and unsparing delineations of fashionable life. To speak technically, his name was up; and, by the aid of this lucky elevation, his active publishers could not fail to dispose of an edition or two of his satire, in despite of its worthlessness as a literary performance.

We have thus, we imagine, satisfactorily shown that it is possible for a work to be, for a time, noted, saleable and fashionable, without possessing any great share of literary merit. We may, therefore, be allowed to deny, that the present demand for this poem, which, we believe, will be of but brief continuance, is any evidence of its deserving that unlimited homage which its author claims for it. That it will ever effect the great poetical revolution which he so modestly anticipates, we imagine that, by this time, few are more inclined to believe, than ourselves. From its appearance, therefore, we feel no alarm for the stability of that reputation which our favourite bards have gained by those immortal works, to whose noble and animating strains, the hearts of millions have so often responded!

But, it is time that we should enter into some examination of the character of this work, and show our reasons for the disapprobation of it as a poem and a satire, which we have so freely expressed.

It will be admitted, we presume, that, when an author does not succeed in accomplishing his design, his work is a failure. The design of the author of this poem was, as we are informed by the title-page, to write a satire, has he done so? Those who are loudest in commendation of the poem, have acknowledged its satirical portions to be feeble, and without point. But they contend that it contains a sufficiency of good poetry of another description, to atone for this defect. We confess that we have not been fortunate enough, after a careful perusal, to discover this redeeming poetry. Whether it be of the sentimental, descriptive, or ethical species, we therefore cannot tell. Perhaps it is an ingenious mingling of them in one mass, in which the beauties of each, conceal those of the others from view? If so, how many disinterested readers will submit to the trouble of extricating them from the confusion in which they lie, so as to see them distinctly, and become fully aware of their latent splendour? We attempted, as in duty bound, to hunt for these gems. We discovered a few that sparkled a little,—but they were indeed so few, and their lustre so faint, that we could not consider them worth the labour of exploring one moiety of the abundance of rubbish in which they are buried. We believe that the generality of readers will be equally disappointed; and that the book will be almost invariably laid down with a feeling that it is tedious, awkward, and dull,—in short, in respect to its poetical as well as its satirical character, a failure without redemption.

But the author calls it a satire. It is therefore as a satire, that it ought to be judged. In our opinion, it is no more a satire than a sermon; nay, we have read sermons in which the satiric thong is wielded with much more effect against wickedness and folly, than in this production. We need not enter into a philological explanation of the term satire,—the word is common enough, and we presume that every reader who understands plain English, knows its meaning. To render vice disgusting, and folly ridiculous, is the legitimate office of the satirist. Sarcasm and wit are his most usual and effectual weapons. Ridicule and reprobation are also used; the former when the intention is to excite derision, and the latter when the arousing of indignation is the object. The great aim of the satirist ought always to be the reformation of depraved morals, corrupt institutions, absurd customs, or offensive manners. The contemporary prevalence of such, is what excites his indignation, or provokes his ridicule; and, if he possesses power and dexterity to apply the lash, he performs a real service to society, and acquires a deserved and enviable name among the useful and agreeable writers of the day.

Has Mr. Bulwer applied the lash in this manner? Against what vice does he awaken the indignation of his readers, or what folly does he expose to their contempt? We ask for information, for we have not, with our best efforts, been able ourselves to make the discovery. It is true, that, in the perusal of his work, we met with some awkward attempts to be witty at the expense of Basil Hall, the Duke of Wellington, Thomas Moore, Joseph Hume, and two or three others of the conspicuous characters of the times. But, if satire never launches keener arrows against these men, than are to be found in this book, we fear that, whatever may be their faults or foibles, no dread of her power will induce them to reform. The only feelings they can experience from the harmless missiles of Mr. Bulwer, are pity for his vanity, and contempt for his weakness.

There is but one passage in this long poem which contains upwards of eight thousand lines, that deserves to be called satirical. It is in relation to the missionary Hodges. In this some tolerable hits are made at the union of selfishness and prejudice which too frequently characterize the religious missionaries of all sects, who are employed by the zeal of the wealthy and pious at home, to convert to Christianity the heathen inhabitants of foreign countries. The missionary in question, who is the only character in the work drawn with any power of dramatic conception, is represented as haranguing the people of Siam on the inferiority of their institutions to those of England, (in which, by the by, neither Americans nor Englishmen will be apt to discover much satire,) and threatening, in language as coarse as that of the canting Maworm, to reform them, whether they will or not, from the evil ways of their ancestors. We shall quote part of the passage, and as it is unquestionably the cleverest satirical portion of the whole poem, the friends of Mr. Bulwer cannot accuse us of doing him injustice by the selection.—

This fine speech, it appears, had much the same effect on its auditors, that we believe Mr. Bulwer's poem will have on nine-tenths of his readers;—it produced a sensation of disdain for the understanding as well as the principles of its author. Under the influence of this feeling, the men of Siam could not forbear executing a practical joke on the orator. They elevated him in a palanquin, raised by means of tall poles, to a great height above their heads; from which altitude, after parading him in mock triumph through the streets of their chief city, they, with little regard to consequences, tossed him into the air. The poem says—

The twins, Chang and Ching, remain behind, and taking pity on the maltreated missionary, convey him to their father's house, which was convenient. Here he is treated with kindness, and soon recovers of the contusions and a broken leg, occasioned by his fall.

A notable scheme now seized the fertile brain of the money loving missionary. The lusus naturæ which connected the bodies of the twins, he conceived would render their exhibition profitable in England. He obtained the consent of their father to carry them to Europe, by stipulating to allow them one-half of the earnings of their exhibition. The acquiescence of the youths themselves he easily procured by inflaming their curiosity to witness the glory and happiness of England, which he described in the most glowing terms of national panegyric.

The twins, however, resolved to consult one of the magicians of the country relative to the result of their intended enterprise, before they should commit themselves to the care of an absolute stranger who was to convey them so far from home. The account of this consultation—the temple of the magician—his manner of consulting the fates, and the mystical style of his addressing the twins, form by much the most fanciful and readable portion of the book, and would certainly entitle the author to some credit for wild and weird conceptions, were it not for the unfortunate circumstance, that the whole is a palpable imitation of the celebrated incantation scene in Der Freischutz. It is also infested with the besetting sin of the whole poem, prolixity. Mr. Bulwer too plainly shows in this work, that he is a bookmaker by profession, and if the faculty of hammering a given number of ideas into as many words as possible, be a useful branch of the craft, it is one in which he has assuredly few competitors.

The arrival of Hodges and the twins in London, is at length announced in the newspapers, and then begins what the author unquestionably intended should be the principal business of the poem—namely, the quizzing of London life and manners—or to use his own phrase, satirizing the times. The idea of bringing Oriental strangers to Europe in order to exhibit their surprise at witnessing customs and manners totally different from those of their own country, is rather stale, and the humour of it, if there be any humour in it, has been exhausted by much finer writers than Mr. Bulwer has as yet shown himself to be. Various essayists, both of France and England, have had recourse to this method of exposing the vices and absurdities of their respective countries. Turkish spies, Persian envoys, and Chinese philosophers, have all been brought into requisition for this purpose. No novelty, therefore, can be claimed for the employment of our Siamese adventurers on such trodden ground. It is, indeed, sufficiently apparent, that the idea of making them a vehicle for satire upon the English, was suggested by Goldsmith's Citizen of the World. To try his strength with such a writer as Goldsmith, especially in the walks of satire, was at least courageous on the part of Bulwer; and if any circumstance could, in our estimation, atone for his woful failure, it would be the hardihood which induced him to make the attempt. We believe no reader ever became wearied of perusing Goldsmith's Citizen of the World. But how any reader can toil through this Siamese production, without becoming exhausted, we own is beyond our comprehension.

In London, the twins meet with various adventures, which, no doubt, the author intended should be extremely amusing to the reader. To us they appear extremely jejune and silly. For instance, Lady Jersey sends one of them a ticket of admission to Almacks, without recollecting to pay the same compliment to the other. On appearing for entrance, the door-keeper refuses to admit him who had been neglected. This obstacle, of course, prevents the other from availing himself of his right to enter. Lady Cowper, however, very soon sets all right by furnishing them with another ticket. Now what there is either facetious or satirical in this, we confess we cannot conceive. Equally silly is the incident of the one brother being seized by a recruiting sergeant who had enlisted him, while the other is arrested by a bailiff for debt. But as the brothers cannot be separated, they get clear, the recruiting officer not daring to carry off Ching who had not enlisted, and the bailiff being equally afraid of the consequence of imprisoning Chang against whom he had no writ—an old joke.

Now such bungling inventions appear to us insufferable. In the first place, there is no emotion whatever, either of surprise, merriment, or pity, awakened by the narrative, and in the next, the occurrences are so contrary to all probability, that even poetical license, in its fullest range, will not sanction their introduction. The deformity of the twins would render either of them ineligible to be enlisted. The bailiff's writ might, it is true, authorize the arrest of one only; but even that is inconsistent with the statement previously made that their earnings and expenses were all in common. We should suppose, therefore, that no creditor would make such an invidious distinction between partners so closely connected. These inconsistencies, however, might be pardoned, if the stories were told with sufficient sprightliness and vigour to make them interesting. But when an ill-contrived tale is drowsily told, the reader must possess an immense fund of good nature not to scold the author in his heart.

We shall pass over the rest of these dull adventures, which rebuke no vice, and satirize no folly, and shall give a very brief outline of the remainder of the poem. The brothers, unlike the real twins from whom the title of the poem is borrowed, are represented as of entirely different characters. Chang's disposition is grave, contemplative, and sentimental, while Ching is light-hearted, gay, and volatile. Their protector, Hodges, has a handsome daughter, with whom the meditative Chang falls in love; but, without any apparent cause, he imagines that she has given her heart to Ching. He becomes exceedingly jealous, and absurdly enough, considering the nature of their connexion, meditates the murder of his brother. He however discovers his mistake in time to prevent the deed, and feels a reasonable share of remorse. In the meantime, Mary, the lady in question, who commiserates their condition, contrives, while they are asleep, to introduce a surgeon and his assistant, who successfully cut through the connecting bond of flesh, and, to the great joy of Chang, who had long felt much mortification at the unnatural union, they are separated. Chang now cherishes strong hopes of becoming acceptable to Mary, which are destined soon to be blasted for ever. By an incident which detracts much from the sentimental dignity with which he has been hitherto invested, for it represents him as an eavesdropper, he discovers that she is irrevocably engaged to her cousin, who is called Julian Laneham. This discovery arouses him to a certain fit of magnanimity. He understands that Mary's father objects to her union with Laneham, on account of the young man's poverty. He suddenly disappears; and four days afterwards, two letters are received, one by Hodges, and one by Ching, which, as the author says, "shows the last dénouement of the story." The public curiosity had rendered the brothers rich; and in his letter to Hodges, Chang generously bestows on him his share of their property, on condition that he will give his daughter to Laneham.

The old gentlemen agrees to the compact; and if the reader should have patience enough to carry him so far through the book, he will, towards its conclusion, be rewarded with a marriage, according to the old established laws of romance writing. Why did Mr. Bulwer so far forget the "originality of matter and of manner," in other words, the new school of poetry, which he promised us in the preface, as to put us off with so trite a conclusion?

In a passage towards the close of the poem, the indomitable egotism of our author appears, in a curious allusion which he makes to the failure of his efforts to become a member of parliament at the last general election. His hero Laneham, for he is the true hero of the work, had been a more successful candidate for the people's favour. The poet says, without jealousy, we presume,—

From the last couplet, it appears, that our author has not yet relinquished his expectations of being gratified with a seat in St. Stephens.

In the following concluding lines, which succeed those we have just quoted, the Twins are finally disposed of. We insert them here as a notable instance of long efforts to kindle a blaze, at last dying away in the suffocation of their own smoke.—

Art. VI.—Europe and America; or, the relative state of the Civilized World at a future period. Translated from the German of Dr. C. F. Von Schmidt-Phiseldek, Doctor of Philosophy, one of his Danish Majesty's Counsellors of State, Knight of Dannebrog, &c. &c. By Joseph Owen. Copenhagen: 1820.

Although the translator of this book professes in his Preface to have been principally induced to undertake the task by "the desire of being the humble instrument of imparting to the American nation, that picture of future grandeur and happiness, which the author so prophetically holds out to them," we believe it is but little known among the readers of this country. Yet it is in every respect a very interesting and curious work. It will be seen by the title-page, that it was not only translated into, but printed in English, at Copenhagen, with the view of disseminating a knowledge of its contents among the people of the United States. Yet we do not recollect that it was noticed at the time of its publication in any of our critical journals, and the only copy that has ever fallen under our notice is that now before us, which has been in our possession many years. Nevertheless, it is the work of a man of very extensive views, and of deep sagacity. His speculations on the state of the different kingdoms of Europe, in relation to the past and the present, seem to us equally just and profound; and the predictions which ten years ago the author announced to the world, are every day, nay, almost every hour, becoming matters of history.

It has been said, and said reproachfully, that the people of the United States are somewhat boastful and presumptuous. One reason doubtless is, that they have had to bear up on one hand against much obloquy and injustice, and on the other against certain airs of affected superiority on the part of the nations of Europe, equally offensive. Those who are perpetually assailed, are perpetually called upon to defend themselves; and what in other cases would be an offensive pretension, is, in ours, simply self-defence. It is not boasting, but a manly assertion of what is due to ourselves, in reply to those who take from us what is our right. But even if the charge of national pride were true, we are among those who rather approve than lament it. National pride is a commendable and manly feeling; it is the parent of virtue and greatness—the foundation of a noble character; and if the nation which has led the way in the bright path of freedom—which, young as it is, has become already the beacon, the example, the patriarch of the struggling nations of the world—has not a fair right to be proud, we know not on what basis national pride ought to erect itself.

For these reasons, we feel no hesitation in calling the attention of the people of the United States, to a work eminently calculated to awaken the most lofty anticipations of the destiny which awaits them. Nothing but good can come of such contemplations of the future. They will serve to impress upon the nation the necessity of being prepared for such high destiny; of fitting herself to maintain it with honour and dignity; of attaching herself, heart and hand, body and soul, to that sacred union of opinions, interests, and reflections, which alone can lead us steadily onward in the path of prosperity, happiness, and glory.

"The 4th of July in the year 1776," observes Dr. Von Schmidt, "points out the commencement of a new period in the history of the world. Not provoked to resistance by the intolerable oppression of tyrannical power, but merely roused by the arbitrary encroachments upon well earned, and hitherto publicly acknowledged principles, the people of the United States of North America declared themselves on that memorable day independent of the dominion of the British Islands, generally speaking mild and benevolent in itself, and under which they had hitherto stood as colonies, in a state, not of slavish servitude, but of partial guardianship, under the protection of the mother country."

The author has here marked the nice and peculiar feature which distinguishes the American Revolution from all others, and confers on it a degree of philosophical dignity. It was not a ferment arising from momentary impatience of existing and operating hardships; nor the result of extensive distresses pressing upon a large mass of the nation. When the people of the United Colonies rose in resistance to the mother country, they were in possession of a greater portion of all the useful means of happiness, than the mother country itself. It was not therefore a revolution originating in the belly, but the head; it was a revolution brought about by principles, not by distresses. The early emigrants to the new world, brought these principles with them from England;—every year added to their strength, and every accession of strength, brought the crisis nearer to maturity. The annals of each one of the colonies, exhibit every where evidence of the existence of this leaven of freedom, which was perpetually rising and agitating the surface; and, although like the eruption of a volcano, it broke forth at first in one particular spot, it was only from accidental causes. The whole interior was equally in a ferment, and the boiling mass must have forced a vent somewhere, and soon. It had long been evident, that, wherever the pressure should be greatest, there would be the point of resistance.

That the American revolution, though unquestionably precipitated, was not produced by a sudden excitement originating in any particular measure of the British government, we think must appear to all those who read with attention the early records of our colonial history. As long ago as the year 1635, representations were made to the government of England, touching the disloyalty of the people of Massachusetts.

"The Archbishop of Canterbury," says Hutchinson, "the famous High Churchman Laud, kept a jealous eye over New England. One Burdett of Piscataqua, was his correspondent. A copy of a letter to the Archbishop, wrote by Burdett, was found in his study, and to this effect: 'That he delayed going to England, that he might freely inform himself of the state of the place as to allegiance, for it was not new discipline which was aimed at, but sovereignty; and that it was accounted perjury and treason in their general court, to speak of appeals to the king.'"^[4]

But to return to the immediate subject before us. Dr. Von Schmidt-Phiseldek, after stating the result of this declaration in the establishment of our independence, proceeds to notice the second war between the United States and England, in which the former successfully maintained the positions she had assumed, as the grounds of hostility:—

"By these occurrences," he says, "which we have only cursorily touched upon, the North American confederacy had tried her strength, preserved her dignity by the rejection of illegal pretensions, and vigorously proved and maintained her right as an active member in the scale of nations, to take part in the grand affairs of the civilized world. From that moment, the impulse to a new change of events, ceased to proceed exclusively from the old continent, and it is possible that in a short time it will emanate from the new one."

The author then proceeds to deduce the attempts of the South American Provinces, which, however, at that period, had not been consummated, from the example of North America, which had inspired them with the desire of emancipation:—

"This word, as intimating the resistance of a people feeling themselves at maturity, to their wonted tutelage, and desirous of taking upon themselves the management of their own affairs, most suitably expresses the spirit of the times, which, being called to light in 1776, has spread itself over the new and old world."

Having indicated his belief, that the South American States will acquire independence, Dr. Von Schmidt-Phiseldck gives it as his opinion, "that the similitude of their constitutional forms, and an equal interest in rejecting the European powers, will unite these new states in a close compact with the North American confederacy; and, if a quarter of a century only elapsed before North America began to act externally with vigour, it may be presumed that the younger states of the Southern Continent, endowed with more ample resources, and more ancient culture, will require a shorter period to arrive at a state of respectable force."

Having traced a rapid sketch of the situation and prospects of the new world, the author next turns his attention to the old governments of Europe, of which he gives a masterly analysis:—

"The new spirit which had been called to life on the other side of the Atlantic, and the universal fermentation it caused, happened at a period in which the most excessive laxity reigned predominant on the old continent. The political existence of the people was for the most part extinguished; their active industry had been directed abroad, and the governments finding no opposition or dangerous collisions internally, followed with the stream. Commerce, exportations, colonial systems, every means of acquiring money, were cherished and protected,—riches presenting the only possibility of investing the low with consideration and influence, and the high with power and inordinate dominion. The maxims by which the nations were governed, lay less in the ground pillars of an existing constitution, than in the changeable systems of the cabinets, and the character of their rulers; there remained, for the most part, nothing for the great body of the people, but to be spectators.

"Germany, the grand heart of Europe, presented now nothing more than the shadow of a political body united in one common confederacy; the imperial governments, as also the administration of the federal laws, were without energy, and united efforts to repel invasions from abroad, had not been witnessed since the fear of Turkish power had ceased to operate. The larger states had outgrown their obedience, and often ranged themselves in opposition to the head, which was scarcely able to protect either itself or the weaker states against injuries.

"The internal affairs of the individual vassal states, were exclusively conducted according to the will of their regents; the energy and importance of the representative popular states, were become dormant, and the standing armies which had been introduced by degrees even into the smallest principalities, since the peace of Westphalia, being perfectly foreign to the hearts and dispositions of the people, threw an astonishing weight into the scale of unlimited sovereignty. Being mercenary soldiers recruited from every nation, modelled upon a system of subordination, and raised by Frederick of Prussia to the highest pitch of perfection, they had been accomplices in diffusing this system of despotism over all the relations of the state, and in leaving the people who were freed from military services, nothing but the acquisition of gain.

"Agriculture, agreeably to the direction given it, had been improved, and with a population increased; industry supported by the progress of the mechanical arts, had also been considerably extended. But each separate state had its own little jealous feelings of aggrandisement, its own petty internal policy, viewing its neighbour with a jealous eye; and the whole of Germany never reaped any beneficial result from a system, which, had it been general, would have conduced highly to the wealth and power of the confederated states, of which it was composed. All these various institutions, at the same time that they conflicted with each other, were reared on loose foundations, and it was evident must fall together, on the first external shock,—circumstances like these were incapable of producing an universal national character. There, where no reciprocal tie binds the individuals of a state together, who, living under the equal laws of one community, ought to form one solid whole, the spirit of the nation loses itself in different directions; the attainment of individual welfare is possible in such a state of things, but never will a sense of what is universally good and great, be promoted.

"If in Germany," proceeds the author, "where the imperial crown represented a mere shadow, deprived of power and consequence, the mighty vassals were all; in France the crown was every thing, after it had subdued the powerful barons of the country. The people represented, indeed, one body, but were deprived, like the several German states, of all political weight, and were arbitrarily subjected to every impulse of the government. The same was the case with Spain and Portugal, where religious intolerance more powerfully suppressed every utterance of contrary opinions, and every doctrine which might lead to a deviation from the maxims of the state, so intimately connected with those of the priesthood. The latter, chained since Methuen's celebrated treaty, to the monopoly of England from which it had vainly attempted to free itself under Pombal's administration, was nearly sunk to the condition of a British colony working its gold mines in the Brazils for the benefit of the proud islanders.

"Italy, parcelled out amongst different powers, presented upon the whole, the same political aspect as Germany, only with this difference, that it was totally divested of the shadow of unity, which the latter at least appeared to present. Upper, and a great part of middle Italy, being dismembered, were entirely subservient to foreign impulse. The lower part, with the fertile island on the other side of the Pharos, presented, to be sure, since 1735, the outward appearance of one national whole, but was too weak to withstand the fate of the more powerful Bourbon families, from which, according to treaties, it had derived its sovereigns. There reigned in the papal state alone, which could not derive its weight from its worldly sovereignty, but from the spiritual supremacy of its ruler, the ancient maxims of the Romish pontificate, with the economical state faults of a clerical government. But the consideration and the power of the former were visibly sunk; the journeys of the pope of that period to Vienna, were like the contemporary ones of the Hierarch of Thibet to China, rather prejudicial, than favourable to spiritual dignity; and the faulty internal administration of the state seemed to invite every attempt at innovation. The republics on the east and the west of the Adriatic Gulf, were, since the rise of the other great naval states, only the ruins of past glory, sinking daily into insignificance. But notwithstanding this, neither was the image of former greatness blotted from their memories, nor a proper feeling for it extinguished in the minds of the inhabitants of the luxuriant peninsula. The pride of the more noble, fed itself on the sublime remains of lionian antiquity; and the monuments of the golden age of the family of Medicis indemnified a people given to the arts, and full of imagination for the loss of present grandeur, and kept up a lively anticipation of a better futurity, founded on the merits of its ancestors.

"Helvetia, hemmed in between Italy, Germany, and France, by its mountains, continued in the peaceable enjoyment of its liberties through the respect its venerable age had universally diffused. Nevertheless, the disturbances at Geneva, and the increased spirit of emigration, were sufficient to indicate that a people who become indifferent to the present order of things, would willingly have recourse to a system of innovation, and that the ancient ties which had held the Swiss nation so many centuries together, were gradually relaxing.

"The dissolution of the existing form of government, in the north-western Netherlands, which ought never to have been separated from the German corporation, was more visibly approaching. The unwieldiness of their disorganized union had no remedy to administer to the decline of their commerce, and naval power, which became more and more felt, being a natural consequence of the daily concentration of the larger states; and it was evident that the fate of the republic would be decided by a blow from abroad.

"The British islands, at that time the only country in Europe which united under a monarchical head, moderate, but on that account more solid principles of freedom, with an equal balance of the different powers of the state, were at the commencement of the American disturbances in a progressive state of the most flourishing prosperity. For this happy condition they were indebted to their freedom and eligible commercial situation, together with the inexhaustible treasures nature had deposited in their mines of coal and iron, on the existence of which the industry of their diligent inhabitants is principally founded. Political ebullition existed in no higher degree than was necessary to give proper life, and less, perhaps, than was necessary to preserve it in all its purity, a constitution which, long since acquired after the most bloody struggles, was more deeply rooted in the modes of thinking, and in the manners and customs of the nation, than it was imprinted on them by the letter of the law. The government had sufficient leisure to direct its attention abroad, and by means of hostile enterprises, and political treaties, which must sooner or later give a naval power a decided ascendency, held out a helping hand to the commercial spirit of the people who aimed at making (and with increasing hopes of success) the remainder of the world tributary to it, for the productions of its fabrics and manufactures.

"The plan of supporting commerce upon territorial acquisitions, and of forming an empire out of the conquered provinces of India, whose treasures should flow back to the queen of cities on the Thames, was already fully developed, and the exasperation against the western colonies was to be attributed as much to a mistaken commercial interest as to a spirit for dominion. The ingredients of the British national character, ever more coldly repulsive than amiable or attractive in its nature, had produced an almost universal antipathy not alone of the public mind, but also of the individual affections, against a people in so many points of view so highly respectable, and being unceasingly fed by that envy which every species of superiority involuntarily creates, produced the most conspicuous influence in the development of subsequent events."

The author then proceeds to notice the proceedings of Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in relation to Poland, until its final dismemberment in 1795:—

"It is unnecessary," he says in conclusion, "to give a further exposition of the leading principles of the three courts which began this work of annihilation, and still persevered in it, contrary to the solemn stipulations of treaties lately entered into, just at the moment when a new constitution, enthusiastically received, had offered every guaranty of security, the want of which had served to give an air of legitimacy to the first spoliations. External aggrandisement in the acquisition of territory and population, and internal considerations, so far as they afforded means of attaining the object in view, are, in short, the features of these unnatural principles. This economical digestion of an administration merely of things, not persons, may be termed excellent in its kind. Taken in this point of view, the Prussian government gave the most splendid proofs of the beneficial results which may be attained by military organization. Austria and Russia had followed this example; and it required later events to prove, that the calculation is not always correct, that a standing army, forming a state within the state, is the only support and rallying point of a government, and that no system is safe, but that which is founded on the internal strength and unanimity of the people."

Having sketched the political situation of Europe, at the commencement of the American revolution, the author proceeds to notice the interference of France and Spain;—the situation in which the colonies of North America were left after the acknowledgment of their independence;—the adoption of the new constitution;—the extraordinary prosperity which followed;—the immense acquisitions of territory, and the accession of wealth and numbers. He then traces the effects produced in Europe, and most especially in France, by a participation in the struggle between England and her colonies, and the contemplation of their subsequent prosperity and happiness. The spirit of emancipation was caught from the new, and was fast spreading itself over the old world. This spirit first produced its practical effects in France, whence it reached England, and almost all the states on the continent of Europe, begetting a revolution of ideas at least, if not leading to the revolution of governments, as it did in France.

The spirit of conquest which was perhaps forced upon France, by the necessity of giving to the enemies of the new order of things, employment at home, in order to prevent their interference abroad, was fatal to the beneficial results of the revolution. The rapid conquests achieved by Napoleon, drew the eyes and hearts of a people fond of glory, and full of a military spirit, from their internal affairs, to foreign conquests; and, while they were subduing a world, they were themselves subdued by the same power. Then came the empire of Napoleon; the confederacy of nations,—not merely of kings and their armies, but of nations, instigated partly by their own wrongs, and partly by the promises of their rulers, to rise in mass, and do what neither their kings nor their armies had been able to perform. It was the people of Europe that at length overthrew Napoleon.

When, after this great event, it became necessary to reorganize Europe, which had been cast from its ancient moorings, by the gigantic power, and gigantic mind of the child of democracy, who had devoured his mother, there arose a schism between the people and their sovereigns. The former expected the fulfilment of those promises, which the latter had made in the hour of extreme peril, in order to rouse them to effectual resistance against the French. These promises in Germany, Prussia, the Netherlands, &c. consisted principally in the establishment of representative governments, which would leave the sovereign in possession of a hereditary power, checked by a body elected by the people. On the other hand, the sovereigns, unmindful of the preservation of their thrones, which they owed to the people, refused to fulfil their solemn stipulations. In the hour of success, they as usual forgot the hour of adversity, and insisted upon the unconditional re-establishment, if not of old boundaries, at least of the old political regime. Hence we may trace the origin of what is called seriously by some, in derision and scorn by others, the Holy Alliance, which originated in the fears and the weakness of kings, who, being unable to maintain singly their antiquated pretensions at home, sought in a close union of policy and interests, the means of doing that, which each one alone was inadequate to achieve. By this alliance, Europe was dismembered—millions of acres, and millions of people, were parcelled out among the different sovereigns, and the balance of Europe was either believed, or affected to be believed, restored by placing whole nations under a dominion which they abhorred. It is obvious that such an unnatural state of things could endure only while cemented by a mutual fear of the powers which had constituted it; which fear would subside immediately, or very soon after the dissolution of the great confederacy. A large portion of Europe had been fermenting for nearly fifteen years, under the oppressions of this union of despots, and the moment of its separation, would naturally be that of the downfall of the system they had attempted to impose on mankind. But we are anticipating our brief analysis of the work before us:—

"After twenty-three years of blood and revolution," continues the author, "Louis was again seated on the throne of his forefathers, and the principles of monarchy seemed firmly established in Europe. But the principle of government was in reality no longer the old one, and the spirit of the relation in which the ruled stood to the rulers, although it had not yet been brought to light in visible forms, and specified limits, was materially changed. Mutual struggles of kings and their people against foreign aggression, and mutual sufferings in consequence of the division between the people and their rulers, the latter of whom owed esteem and acknowledgment for services rendered by the former, laid the foundation of a relation between them mutually more honourable. For centuries, indeed, the monarchs of Europe had not been identified and interwoven with their people; nor had they shared as now, the privations and humiliations, the domestic and public calamities, of the nations they governed; nor had they fought by their sides, and conquered by their efforts, as they had lately done in the late stormy period of the world."

Mutual suffering had taught them to feel a community of interests they had not before recognised. Calamity brings all ranks to a level, and the monarch exiled from his throne, can sympathise with the peasant driven from his hovel.

In this state of feelings, one would suppose Europe might have reposed in peace. But the elements of internal discord, lay buried deeply in her bosom, and the internal relations of the different powers had been so altered, as to present ample materials for dissension abroad. With the necessity of appealing to the patriotism of their people, by promises of privileges and immunities, expired the disposition to comply with them. This breach of faith, produced on one hand indignation and discontent, on the other, jealousy and apprehension. The discontents of the people, caused their rulers to depend more on the support of their standing armies, than on the attachment of their subjects, and these armies were accordingly augmented to such an extent, that the unfortunate people were at length impoverished by the very means used in enslaving them. At this moment, nearly the whole of Europe, including the British islands, constitutes a mass of military governments. Every where the civil power is inadequate to the preservation of order, the enforcement of obedience to the king and the laws, and every where a standing army under some form or other presides over the opinions and actions of the people. Hence results the curious and ominous, not to say awful spectacle of the rights of property at the mercy of a mob; and on the other hand, the rights of person, the liberties of the citizen, subject to the arbitrary domination of the bayonet. At this moment, such is the state of every monarchy in Europe.

Such a juxtaposition of kings and their people, must of necessity alienate them from each other every day; and thus by degrees, the feeling of loyalty towards the one, and of parental affection towards the other, will be finally extinguished in mutual fears and mutual injuries, that will for ever disturb their repose, until the people are either perfectly satisfied, or totally subdued.

Another fruitful source of the discontents now agitating all Europe, is the state of the labouring classes, not only manufacturing but agricultural. The means of producing the necessaries and luxuries of life have been multiplied by the increase of paper capital and artificial expedients, until the supply exceeds the demand, and the price of labour, even where labour can be procured, bears no proportion to the price of bread. During fifteen years of peace, America and Europe have augmented their powers of supplying their own wants and those of the rest of the world, by means of improvements in arts, sciences, machinery, &c., to an extent which cannot be estimated. The whole world is glutted with the products of machinery, and exactly in the proportion that these increase upon us, is the increase of the poverty of the labouring classes. Millions of people in Europe, the largest proportion of whom are inhabitants of the richest country in the world, and one producing the greatest quantity of the results of industry, want bread, because they either have no employment, or their wages will not obtain it for them. Let political economists reason as they will, this is the state of the labouring classes of Europe, and this state is aggravated precisely in the proportion that the facility of supplying the necessities and luxuries of life by artificial means is increased.

The cause of this singular state of things to us is sufficiently obvious. The powers of wealth, the force of example, opinion, authority, laws, of every concentrated influence that can be brought to bear upon human affairs, have, all combined, been directed to a reduction of the price of labour, and consequently to diminishing the consumption of the products of human industry; for the great mass of mankind have nothing but the fruits of their labour to offer in exchange for those products which are necessary to their subsistence and comfort. In vain may it be urged, as we have seen it done repeatedly, and most especially in an address of a clergyman of England to the labouring classes of that country—in vain may it be urged, that the decrease of the price of labour has been met by a corresponding decrease in the price of the necessaries of life, and that, therefore, the labouring classes are no worse off, nay better off, than before the vast increase of machinery either threw them out of employment, or forced them to labour for almost nothing. This comfortable gentleman, who, we understand, has a good fat living, and will probably be made a bishop if he can only stop the mouths of the sufferers with reasons instead of bread, asks these poor people if they don't get their hats, shoes, &c. one half cheaper in consequence of the perfection of machinery, the improvements of the arts, &c. But he takes care not to ask them if the difficulty of earning this half price is not increased in a much greater proportion, in consequence of the diminution of their wages, and whether bread, meat, beer, and all the essentials of human existence, are not enhanced rather than diminished in price. We could illustrate the theory of the reverend gentleman, by an honest matter of fact story, which we can vouch for, as it happened to a near relative of ours.

He had a gardener named Dennis, an honest fellow, full of simplicity, and a dear lover of Old Ireland, as all Irishmen are, at home or abroad. One day he was dilating with much satisfaction on the difference between the price of potatoes in this country and Ireland. "In Ireland, your honour, now I could git more nor a barrel of potatoes for a pishtareen, but here it costs as much as a dollar and a half." The gentleman asked him good naturedly why he did not remain where potatoes were so cheap. Dennis considered a moment, and answered with the characteristic frankness of his country—"why to tell your honour the honest truth, though the potatoes were so cheap, I never could get the pishtareen to buy them."

Here is the solution of the whole enigma. Every thing is cheap we will say; but labour, which is the only equivalent a large mass of mankind have to offer for every thing, is cheaper than all. Evident, as we think this will appear, still it seems to have no influence on those who govern mankind. And how should it? Their emoluments, their means of expenditure, are derived, not from their own physical labour, but the labours of others. The cheaper they can procure this, the deeper they can revel in luxuries. With them, the relative proportion between the remuneration of toil, and the means of living is nothing. Hence the rulers of nations, hence capitalists, and all the brood of monopolists, are stirring their energies abroad, to increase the supply of the products of labour, at the same time that they take from the labourer the due rewards of his labours, and thus prevent the consumption of the vast accession of manufactures, &c. occasioned by the increase and perfection of machinery. Inanimate powers are daily substituted for human hands, and productions continue to multiply in an equal ratio. This is a benefit to a single nation, while it possesses all the advantages of superiority, and is enabled to supply a portion of the rest of the world. But when other nations, as is the case now, adopt the same system, and avail themselves of the same means of supply, a glut takes place in the market, at home and abroad, and poverty and distress among the labourers are the inevitable consequence.

Such seem to us the principal elements of combustion now at work in Europe. Political disgust, and physical distresses are co-operating with each other, and in order to quiet these disturbances, it is not only necessary to give them more liberty, but more bread. But to return once more to the speculations of our author,—

"If we turn our view to the present state of agriculture," continues Dr. Von Schmidt, "in many countries of Europe, it will appear evident, that even the paternal soil in many districts, is becoming too confined to afford nourishment to those who have remained faithful to its bosom. If in the mountainous countries, as for example, in the west and south of France, on the Alps, and along the Rhine, every spot is occupied, and the very earth and manure have for centuries been carried aloft upon the naked rock attended with the most boundless labour, in order to furnish soil for the vine, the olive, and for the different species of cerelia, and at present no further room exists for a more extended cultivation; it is not possible for a more numerous growing generation to find nourishment in these districts, whose productions are not susceptible of increasing progression. The too frequent practice of parcelling out common lands, and large estates, originally beneficial in itself, has produced similar consequences in other states. It was undoubtedly a wise and humane plan to transform commons, and extensive pastures into fruitful fields, and by dividing large estates which their owners could not overlook, into smaller lots, thus ensure more abundant crops, and an increasing population, by a more careful cultivation. But if, as is the case at the present day, in many places, useful lands have been split into so many small independent possessions, as to render it hardly possible for families occupying them, to subsist in the most penurious manner, by cultivating them; whence, then, is sustenance to be obtained for their more numerous posterity, and from what source is the state to derive its taxes? It is evident, that this condition of things must lead to the most poignant distress, and that a breadless multitude, either driven by irretrievable debts from their paternal huts, or voluntarily forsaking them on account of an inadequate maintenance, will turn their backs upon their country; and it may be considered a fortunate resource if they, as has frequently occurred in later times, carry with them the vigour of their strength to the free states of America, which stand in need of no one thing but human hands, to raise them to the highest degree of prosperity. Those governments in which such an unnatural distension of the state of society prevails, ought not, most assuredly, for their own advantage, and for the sake of humanity, by any means to throw obstacles in the way, but rather favour such emigration, and render it easy and consolatory for all, since they have it not in their power to offer a better remedy for their present misery. By doing this, they will prevent dangerous ebullitions and unruly disaffections of a distressed and overgrown population; they will lighten the number of poor which is increasing to a most alarming extent, and put an end to that angry state of abjectness and misery which is felt by every honest heart, and under which thousands have sunk down, who, with numerous families in hovels of wretchedness, prolong their existence upon more scanty means than the most common domestic animals, and who appear only to be gifted with reason in order to be more sensible to their forlorn and pitiable fate."

From the foregoing premises, the author deduces the conclusion, that the free states of North America will increase in population more rapidly than any other country has ever done, partly from emigration, and partly from the unequalled facility of obtaining the comforts of life, by which the numbers of mankind are regulated. The people, equally free from political oppression, and the evils of abject poverty, such as scanty nourishment, and crowded habitations, will at first make a rapid progress in the useful, and subsequently, in the elegant arts, and more abstract sciences. The freedom of their institutions will continually offer every stimulus to the development of the features of independence, and animate that spirit of intelligence, which always increases in proportion to the freedom with which the human faculties are exercised. Thence he proceeds to the supposition, that the states of South America having attained to independence, will establish constitutional governments similar to those of the North, whose example first stimulated them to resistance to the mother country,—that this similarity will naturally produce a close union of interest and policy among all the states of the Western Continent, and that such a union will give a death blow to the colonial system of Europe, at no distant period.