EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE (continued 19)

The Sultan had indeed made several attempts to recover his authority, of which the only one worthy of note was that conducted by the Capoudan Pasha Hassan in 1786, which is mentioned in the second number of these Sketches. This expedition was but partially successful. The Beys soon regained their power, which they exercised with additional insolence and rapacity towards all classes; and when the French under Buonaparte entered Egypt, it was ostensibly for the purpose of restoring the country to its former master, "their ancient ally," and of thus revenging the insults committed on citizens of the Republic by the tyrannical Mamelukes.

The invaders found twenty-three Beys united against them under the command of Mourad, the most powerful of these chiefs; their forces consisted of eight thousand Mamelukes, and a vast number of Arabs and irregular troops. European skill and discipline, as might have been expected, prevailed, and the Beys having been defeated in several desperate conflicts, lost their confidence in each other; some, among whom was Mourad, joined the Turks, others sided with the French, and the remainder endeavored to maintain their position in the upper country. When the French had been expelled, the Sultan was determined to re-establish his dominion entirely, and to extirpate the Mamelukes, if possible. In pursuance of this plan, at the time of Eaton's arrival, a desultory but devastating warfare was carried on between the Turkish troops and those of the Beys, who occupied the banks of the upper Nile and the oases of the adjoining desert. It was with one of these Chieftains named Mahomed Elfi, that Hamet had taken refuge, and he was then at the village of Minieh, about one hundred and fifty miles above Cairo, at the head of a few refugee Tripolines and Arabs, closely pressed by the forces of the Turkish Pasha.

The arrival of an American ship of war created a great sensation in Lower Egypt, and many surmises as to its objects. The French consul Drovetti, an able but unprincipled man, who has until lately maintained a great influence in the government of Egypt, denounced Eaton and his followers as "British spies who were endeavoring to open an intercourse with the Mamelukes," and employed every dishonorable means to defeat their plans, and have them expelled from the country. They were however ably assisted by Major Misset, the British resident, to whom Eaton carried letters of recommendation from Sir Alexander Ball, Governor of Malta. After a few days spent at Alexandria they sailed for Rosetta, where having engaged a boat, they arrived at Cairo on the 8th of December. To this place they were fortunately accompanied by Doctor Mendrici, an Italian with whom Eaton had been intimate at Tunis, and who was then physician to the Pasha; he proved very serviceable in representing their objects in the true light, and in counteracting the artifices of the French consul.

The Turkish Viceroy of Egypt at that time was Koorsheed, who afterwards (1821-3) as Pasha of the Morea, distinguished himself by the defeat and destruction of Lord Byron's old friend Ali Pasha of Albania, and by his efforts to put down the insurrection of the Greeks, at its commencement; Mahomet Ali, who has since risen to supreme power in the country, was then merely the commander of the Albanian troops. Koorsheed is represented by Eaton as an intelligent and really high minded man; and after the true objects of the strangers had been made known to him by Mendrici and Misset, he did not hesitate to grant them a private interview, which took place on the 9th of December. In it Eaton played his part well, and succeeded so far in interesting the Pasha, that he agreed to assist him in his efforts to detach Hamet from the Mamelukes, provided the Prince should not have compromised himself, by any open act in concert with those rebels.

Eaton had previously despatched messengers to Hamet, from Alexandria, Rosetta and Cairo, directing him to proceed to Alexandria; and since his arrival at the capital, he had discovered three of the Prince's former high officers, who gave him more minute information as to their master's circumstances. There were great difficulties, not only in detaching him from the Mamelukes, but even in communicating with him to any effect. The war between the two parties in Egypt was one of extermination, and from the characters of the combatants on both sides, neither passports nor flags of truce were likely to afford much protection to their bearers; moreover, it was very improbable that Elfi Bey would suffer a person so well acquainted with his strength and his plans as Hamet must have been, to quit his encampment and go among his enemies. The enterprising American however exerted himself to obtain farther demonstrations from the Pasha, and to have every thing in readiness to proceed against Tripoli, in case he should get Hamet into his power. He sought out the refugee Tripolines, and enlisted recruits for the contemplated expedition, principally among the Franks, Greeks and Levantines;¹ he also distributed his bribes among the officers of the Court with so much liberality and discretion, that at a second audience with the Pasha on the 16th of December, he succeeded in obtaining from him a passport and letter of amnesty for Hamet, which were immediately despatched by trusty messengers.

¹ The natives of Europe, except those of Greece and Turkey, are termed Franks in the East; and their descendants are called Levantines.

At length on the 8th of January 1805, Eaton received a letter from Hamet, in reply to his first from Cairo, stating that he would proceed directly to Alexandria. On receipt of this, the American without delay set off for the latter place, where on his arrival he found a second letter from the Prince, expressing his unwillingness to trust himself alone in the power of the Turkish Pasha; and making an appointment with him on the borders of the province of Fayoom, near the site of the celebrated Labyrinth and Lake of Mæris. Eaton instantly determined to seek him there, and accordingly set out on the 22d, accompanied by Lieutenants Mann and Blake of the Argus, and an escort of twenty-three men. At the close of the next day, the party were arrested at the Turkish lines near Damanhour, about seventy miles from Alexandria, where the officer in command, a fierce and savage fellow, was at first inclined to treat with some harshness these strangers who were passing through the country with a body of armed attendants, in search of a refugee Pasha. But Eaton was never taken unawares; he flattered the Turk's vanity, by complimenting his military vigilance and discipline, and showing him the Viceroy's passport, gave him a handsome present, which secured respect for it. The commander being softened by these means, listened to the stranger's story, and introduced a young Arab Chief who declared that he knew Hamet well, and would bring him to the spot in ten days. Arrangements were made by which the Arab was despatched to Fayoom, Eaton agreeing to dismiss his escort, and to remain at Damanhour, with the officers and their servants, until the Prince arrived.

Notwithstanding these promises, the situation of the Americans was by no means agreeable: the Turk evidently mistrusted them; they were closely guarded, and they daily witnessed acts of barbarous cruelty, which impressed on them the necessity of proceeding with the utmost caution. Having reason to suspect that there was some hidden cause for this vigilance, Eaton sounded the Turk, and finally discovered that Drovetti had been tampering with him, and had instigated him to acts of violence against them.

At length on the 6th of February, Hamet actually arrived, accompanied by a suite of forty persons. As soon as he had received Eaton's first letters from Alexandria and Cairo, he determined to accept the propositions contained in them, and having succeeded in eluding the vigilance of his Mameluke friends, he escaped to Fayoom; of four copies of the Pasha's letter of amnesty, not one had reached him; the messengers having been seized and imprisoned by the Bey. On the day after his arrival Eaton set off with him for Alexandria.

On arriving at that place the Turkish Admiral, whose authority was paramount, refused admittance to the Prince and his followers, and declared his intention of not allowing them to embark from any Egyptian port. This was also the consequence of Drovetti's intrigues; but the refusal proved vain, for it had been already determined that the expedition should proceed by land, at least as far as Derne, in order to keep together the Arabs whom they might first engage, and to recruit from the tribes encountered on the way. This was a project which none but a man of Eaton's hardihood would have undertaken. The distance to Derne was at least six hundred miles, through a most desolate region, inhabited only by wandering barbarians, where supplies of food and even of water were uncertain; and he was to be accompanied by persons with whom, except a few, he was unacquainted; persons lawless and faithless, who hated him for his difference of creed, and who might well be supposed ready to sacrifice him at any moment, either under the influence of passion, or in order to obtain his property and arms.

This expedition being determined on, Hamet proceeded about thirty miles west of Alexandria, and established himself at a place near the sea called the Arab's tower, where he was soon surrounded by wandering Sheiks or Chiefs, offering their services and the use of their camels. Eaton went to Alexandria, and having obtained some arms, ammunition and money from the Argus, forwarded them to the camp. He then arranged with Captain Hull that the latter should proceed to the squadron, and get fresh supplies, with which he should sail for Bomba, a small harbor about eighty miles from Derne, there to meet the expedition.

Before proceeding farther, Eaton concluded a treaty in the name of the United States, with Hamet as Pasha of Tripoli, which was signed on the 23d of February, 1805. In this treaty the United States are made to engage—(Article second)—"So far as comports with their own honor and interests, their subsisting treaties and the acknowledged law of nations, to use their utmost exertions to establish the said Hamet Pasha in the possession of his sovereignty of Tripoli"—(Article third)—"In addition to the operations they are carrying on by sea, to furnish said Hamet Pasha, on loan, supplies of cash, ammunition and provisions; and if necessity require, debarkations of troops also, to aid and give effect to the operations of said Pasha Hamet by land against the common enemy." By Article eighth—"WILLIAM EATON, a citizen of the United States now in Egypt, shall be recognised as General and Commander in Chief of the land forces which are, or may be called into service against the common enemy; and his said Highness Hamet Pasha engages that his own subjects shall respect and obey him as such." The other articles provide for the indemnification of all expenses incurred by the United States, in executing the second and third articles, the liberation of all American prisoners, &c. A secret article stipulates for the surrender of Yusuf, and of Morat Rais alias Peter Lyle, to the Americans, to be held as hostages, provided they do not escape by flight. Finally, the convention shall be submitted to the President of the United States for his ratification; in the meantime there shall be no suspense in its operations.

That Eaton far exceeded the limits of his commission in making the United States a party to this treaty, a slight review of his powers will serve easily to show. Diplomatic powers he had properly none; he had left the United States as navy agent, and was throughout the whole affair entirely subordinate to the Commander of the American forces in the Mediterranean. On leaving Malta, verbal orders were given by Commodore Barron to him and to Captain Hull, "to seek out Hamet and convey him to Derne or such other place on the coast, as may be determined the most proper for co-operating with the naval force against the common enemy; or if more agreeable to the Prince, to bring him to the squadron before Tripoli." The same orders indeed also authorised them to "assure Hamet that the most effectual measures would be taken with the American forces for co-operating with him against the usurper his brother, and for re-establishing him in the regency of Tripoli. Arrangements to this effect with him are confided to the discretion with which Mr. Eaton is vested by the Government." How far this discretion extended, appears clearly from Eaton's own words in a letter to Colonel Dwight, written on the 9th of April, 1804, during his passage to Europe: "I am ordered on the expedition by Secretary Smith, without any special instructions to regulate my conduct; without even a letter to the ally to whom I am directed; without any thing whatever said to the Commander in Chief on the subject of supplies; nothing but a general and vague discretion concerning the co-operation, and nothing more to him of my agency in the affair, than that 'Mr. Eaton is our agent for the several Barbary regencies, and will be extremely useful.'—I carry with me no evidence whatever from our Government of the sincerity of their intentions towards the friendly Pasha—I can say as a Spartan Ambassador to the King of Persia's Lieutenant when asked, 'whether he came with a public commission or on his own account?' 'If successful, for the public; if unsuccessful, for myself.'" We do not learn that he received any instructions from his government, subsequently.

From this we may conclude, that Eaton considered himself, as he indeed was, fully authorised to assure Hamet of the co-operation of the American forces for his restoration; and that in signing the treaty, he knew he was acting like the Spartan Ambassador—at a venture. Some such arrangement, must however be admitted to have been necessary; as without it he had no means in the event of Hamet's success, to secure those interests of his country which were the ultimate objects of his operations. His own opinion as to the validity of the Convention, is sufficiently shewn by his letter of May 1st, 1805, to Commodore Barron, in which he says, "The convention I have entered into with Hamet Pasha, may be useful in case he succeeds in getting repossession of his government; otherwise it can do no mischief, even if ratified, as will appear by the precaution in the second article,"—rendering the co-operation of the United States, dependant on their own honor and interests, their subsisting treaties, and the acknowledged law of nations.

The convention having been signed, and some difficulties respecting the transportation of provisions from Alexandria being arranged, Eaton and his followers joined Hamet at his encampment, on the 3d of March.

The force assembled at the Arab's tower consisted of about four hundred persons; being nine Americans, seventy odd Greeks and Levanters, Hamet with ninety persons in his suite, and a body of Arab cavalry under the Sheiks El Taib and Mohamet, with some footmen and camel drivers completing the number. The beasts of burden were one hundred and seven camels, engaged by Hamet, as Eaton thought, for the whole distance, at eleven dollars a head, and a few asses. All being now ready, the expedition against Tripoli really commenced on the 8th of March, and on the following day began a series of annoyances and difficulties, arising from the irresolution of Hamet, the intrigues of his followers, and the faithlessness of the Arab chiefs, which continued during the whole period. The Sheik El Taib who had been loudest in his expressions of devotion to Hamet, and of confidence in the success of his cause, began by hinting to the camel owners that they should demand their pay in advance, as the Christians would not fail to cheat them if they neglected this precaution. They followed his advice, and Eaton who knew them too well to trust them, having refused to comply with their demand, they refused to proceed. Hamet on this began to despond, but Eaton quieted this first symptom of disunion, by promptly calling the Christians under arms, and declaring his intention to return to Alexandria, abandoning Hamet and his cause. The feint was successful, and the march was resumed.

On the 13th they were met by a courier from Derne, bringing information that the whole Province had taken up arms in behalf of Hamet, and that the Bey was shut up in the castle. The receipt of this news gave them courage; it was however near being attended by fatal results; for Hamet's followers, who were in front, having discharged their arms in expression of their joy, the Arabs in the rear, apprehending that an attack had been made on them by some hostile tribe, determined to secure their own share of the plunder, by killing the Christians who were with them. This was prevented by the very proper observation of one of the Chiefs, that it would be better to wait until the result of the engagement in front was known.

On the 18th they reached a castle built of hewn stone, called Massarah, distant about two hundred miles from Alexandria, and occupied by an Arab Sheik; here Eaton first learned that the beasts of burden had been engaged by Hamet to accompany them only thus far. Their owners demanded immediate payment, and signified their intention of returning to Egypt. Three days were spent in altercations with them, after which they were paid by the surrender of nearly all the funds in possession of Eaton and Hamet. Attempts were then made to prevail on them to accompany the expedition to Bomba, a small seaport, at which an American ship of war was expected to bring them supplies; and on their refusing this, to march two days farther on, to a station where other camels could be procured. Fifty camels were engaged as far as the latter place; the others returned with their owners to Egypt. Meanwhile a report, said to have been brought by a pilgrim from Morocco, had become current in the camp, that a large force was on its way from Tripoli to oppose them, and that it had even passed Bengazi. This report was sufficient to render Hamet dispirited and mistrustful; he held consultations with his followers and the Arabs, from which Eaton was excluded; and it soon appeared that a plan was in agitation among them to arrest the progress of the expedition until information had been received of the arrival of the American ships at Bomba. Eaton on learning this, instantly ordered the rations of these persons to be stopped, resolving to seize the castle and to maintain himself in it with the Christians, until they were relieved by an American detachment procured from Bomba or Alexandria; then to abandon Hamet to his fate. This decisive step produced its effect, and the march was resumed on the 21st.

The following day they fell in with a tribe of Arabs called Ouedalli, who had never before seen Christians, and what was strange, appeared to be totally unacquainted with bread; of money however they knew the value, and it being a scarce article among the invaders, they could only obtain supplies of meat by giving their rice and biscuit in return. Eighty of their warriors entered Hamet's service, and forty-seven tents of Arab families were afterwards added to their company; ninety camels being also engaged to Bomba. But just as they were about to march, a courier arrived from Derne, confirming the report brought by the pilgrim, of the advance of a Tripoline force; the greatest alarm ensued, the camel drivers fled, the Arab Chiefs became insolent, and Hamet despairing, seemed determined to go back to Egypt. Eaton again took the bold step of suspending rations until the camels returned, and the march was resumed. The Sheik El Taib the originator of all disturbances, on this withdrew, carrying with him in addition to his own followers, many of the new recruits, and hinting that he might probably be found with the enemy. Hamet prayed that a messenger might be sent to pacify him, and offer him terms; to this Eaton would not agree; he despatched an order to the Sheik to return to his duty, coupled with a defiance in case he should prove a traitor; and having brought the remnant of his forces to obedience, resumed his progress. Hamet became more fearful and irresolute every moment, and shewed every disposition to abandon the undertaking; he deprived the Americans of their horses, and on one occasion actually marched back a short distance; Eaton continued onwards, and his perseverance shamed the Prince, who returned, having succeeded by means of his principal officer, in bringing with him the deserting Arabs.

During this delay, Eaton employed his leisure moments in attempting to quiet the religious prejudices of the Arabs against himself and the other Americans; assuring them that in his country no form of worship or opinion was either enforced or excluded, all being free to act in this respect as their consciences dictated; and that God had promised the Americans a heaven different from those of Mussulmen or of Papists, to which however any good men would be admitted who chose to establish themselves in it. His expositions did not convince, but they served to conciliate. Whether they were warranted or not by the nature of the circumstances, each person must judge for himself; it may however be observed, that his declarations cannot be said to be insincere, as his ideas on religion seem never to have been fixed.

On the 1st of April new difficulties occurred. The Arab Sheiks demanded an augmentation of the ration, and on its being refused, openly threatened Eaton. He defied them as usual, and returned the threat, by giving notice to the Sheik El Taib that if any mutiny arose, he should instantly put him to death, as being the cause of it; they were thus again brought to obedience. The expedition had now reached the country anciently settled by the Greeks, and they frequently passed extensive tracts covered with massive ruins. Of the style and character of the architecture Eaton says nothing; he knew but little of ancient history, and was totally unacquainted with any of the fine arts; indeed, he was rather disposed to view a magnificent monument of antiquity as a degrading memorial of despotism. Of the wells and cisterns which he found among these ruins, he however, as may be supposed, always speaks in grateful terms. He confirms the accounts of the barrenness of the surrounding country, from which we are led to form the opinion that the wealth of these places must have been derived from commerce with the interior of Africa.

On the 5th they encamped at Salliaum, near Cape Luco, one of the few places mentioned by Eaton, which can be found on any map or chart. By the 8th they had arrived within eighty miles of Bomba, and had travelled about four hundred miles since leaving Alexandria. They had now but six days provisions left, and Eaton was of course most anxious to proceed; Hamet however objected, and resolved to await the return of a messenger whom he meant to despatch to Bomba. Eaton replied that if he stopped he must starve, and refused to give out rations. The Arabs determined to seize them, and the American drew up the Christians under arms in front of the magazine tent. After some time spent by the two parties in eyeing each other, the Arabs with Hamet at their head, prepared to make a charge; some of the Greeks and Levantines quailed, the others and the Americans stood firm; and Eaton advancing towards Hamet, reproached him with his rashness. As usual the superior character triumphed; the poor Prince embraced him, and on his promise to distribute rations after they had marched, the camp was restored to quiet.

On the 10th the messenger returned from Bomba, bringing the agreeable intelligence that the American ships were lying off that place; on the 15th they reached it, and what were the feelings of Eaton to find there not a vessel, nor a human being, nor a drop of water. The vessels had been seen, but had departed, probably considering the expedition as having entirely failed, as the time calculated for its arrival had long since elapsed. The provisions being exhausted, imprecations now burst forth from the whole Mussulman host on the Christians who had brought them to this terrible pass. Even in this situation Eaton did not despair; he ordered fires to be lighted on the hills as signals, and endeavored to devise some means of getting his little army on to Derne. The next morning all was confusion, and the Arabs were preparing severally to seek their own safety, when a ship was descried bearing down for the place; she proved to be the Argus, which had been sent with the sloop of war Hornet from Malta, with seven thousand dollars in specie, and supplies of provisions and ammunition. The supplies were immediately landed and distributed, as also were those from the Hornet, which arrived on the following day; and on the 23d the expedition again took up its line of march in good spirits.

Of the vast region traversed by the expedition since leaving Egypt, probably the only account in modern times is to be found in the journal of Eaton; with the exception of a few tracts offering pasture for cattle, it was totally barren, consisting of desert plains or rocky ledges. On the day of leaving Bomba they saw the first stream or spring of running water, having been hitherto supplied entirely from wells and cisterns. They shortly after entered a beautiful and fertile district; as they advanced signs of cultivation increased, and it became necessary, in order to conciliate the inhabitants, to take active measures to prevent marauding or wanton injury of property. News arrived that Yusuf's army was approaching; but the prospect of a conflict which animated Eaton, depressed the spirits of the Prince in whose cause he was engaged, and served to excite the avaricious propensities of his Arab allies. Hamet and his followers again began their secret consultations. The Sheiks refused to advance, and the Bedouins, who had joined as independent partizans, remained within their tents. A promise of money by Eaton however prevailed; they resumed their march, and on the 25th encamped on an eminence overlooking Derne.

The country eastward of the Great Syrtis, forming the ancient Cyrenaica, is now called Barca, and is divided into two provinces, of which the capital of the western is Bengazi, a small town occupying the site of the ancient Berenice; that of the eastern is Derne. Each province is governed by a Bey, who is generally a member of the royal family. The Province of Derne is beautiful and fertile, and is considered the most valuable portion of the Tripoline dominions; it produces in great luxuriance, grapes, figs, melons, bananas, oranges, dates and other fruits of a tropical climate; and affords good pasture for cattle, of which many are exported for the supply of Malta and the Ionian Islands. The capital is a small and irregularly built town, situated near the seashore, at the mouth of a valley which extends for a considerable distance into the country; through this valley rushes a mountain torrent, which in the rainy season sometimes overflows the town, and in the summer is nearly dry; water for the use of the inhabitants, and for irrigating the fields and gardens, is however constantly and plentifully supplied by a spring gushing from the side of a hill above the town. Its distance (following the seashore) is about eight hundred miles from Tripoli, from Alexandria about six hundred; and it is considered on good grounds, as the remnant of Darnis, one of the principal ports of the Cyrenaica. About fifty miles west of it, are the massive ruins and extensive excavations which point out the spot formerly occupied by the wealthy and polished Cyrene.

The only regular fortification of the place was a battery near the sea, occupied by the Bey Mustapha, a cousin of the Pasha; his troops, about eight hundred in number, occupied the adjoining houses, in the walls of which they had pierced loopholes for their musquets. A few temporary parapets had also been thrown up in positions not covered by the battery. The inhabitants of the town were generally in favor of Hamet; those surrounding the Bey's residence, if similarly affected, were restrained by fear from any demonstration of their feelings.

On the 26th of April, the day after the arrival of the expedition in sight of Derne, Eaton sent a flag of truce to the Bey, demanding in the name of Hamet as rightful Pasha of Tripoli, quiet passage through the place, and provisions for his troops; promising in case of compliance, that he should not be removed from his government. The Bey instantly sent back the flag, with this short but expressive answer—"Your head or mine." In the course of the night the Argus, the Hornet, and the schooner Nautilus appeared; and on the 27th, Eaton having succeeded with great difficulty in landing a field piece from the latter vessel, determined on an immediate attack, it being his object to gain possession of the town before the arrival of the troops which were daily expected from Tripoli. Accordingly he himself advanced with some of the Christians and Arabs down the valley, towards the entrance of the place; Lieutenant O'Bannon with six Americans and fifty other Christians took post to the eastward, and brought the cannon to bear on the Bey's quarters; Hamet with about a thousand Arabs occupied a ruined castle on the southwest side of the town. At two o'clock the vessels stood in as near as possible, and fired upon the battery and houses occupied by the Tripolines. By this means, and by the active use of O'Bannon's field piece, the battery was soon silenced, and the Bey's troops rushing from their coverts upon Eaton's little band, which had now reached the entrance of the place, succeeded in throwing them for a moment into confusion. They were however speedily rallied, and being joined by a few of O'Bannon's men, were brought to the charge; the Tripolines were driven through the town to their former posts, which they were however obliged immediately to abandon, the greater part seeking refuge on the seashore, where they were exposed to the fire from the vessels. The battery was seized by the Christians; and the guns, found loaded and primed, were turned on the houses occupied by the Bey and his few remaining followers. Hamet's troops had remained very quiet during the affair, which was conducted almost entirely by the Christians; when success had been assured, some of them entered the town, which they began to pillage, others pursued the fugitives. It is believed that they lost none of their number. The Christians had fourteen killed, and several wounded; among the latter was Eaton, who received a ball in his wrist on entering the town.

Eaton was particularly anxious to secure the person of the Bey, with a view to his exchange for Captain Bainbridge; but he had taken refuge first in a Mosque, and afterwards in the Harem of an old and respectable inhabitant, who had two years before sheltered Hamet in a similar manner, when pursued by this same Bey. Preparations were made by the Christians to drag him from his place of refuge; but the inhabitants and the Arabs expressed so much dissatisfaction at the contemplated insult to what they considered most sacred, that it was found expedient to abandon the attempt. The proprietor of the Harem, though in favor of Hamet, declared his readiness to die rather than submit to such a disgrace. Eaton then attempted by stratagems to draw the Bey forth from his asylum; but they failed, and he at length escaped to the enemy, his protector afterwards openly avowing that he had assisted him in so doing, as he had formerly assisted Hamet.

Every exertion was then made to put Derne in a state of defence. Hamet took possession of his former palace, and endeavored to render it secure against any insurrectionary movement. Eaton established himself in the battery; parapets were thrown up in proper positions, and mounted with guns, to prevent the place from being carried by a sudden attack. The Tripoline forces at length appeared on the 4th of May, in number between two and three thousand, under the command of Hassan Bey, with the Beys of Bengazi, and Ogna, and Hadgi Ismain Bey, as commander of the cavalry, acting under his orders. They took post about two miles above the town, on each side of the valley, nearly in the positions first occupied by Hamet's troops.

Hassan did not think proper to begin his operations immediately; at length on the 13th his troops rushed down from each side of the valley, upon a body of Hamet's cavalry which was posted below, about a mile from the town. The Arabs received them with great steadiness, and maintained their ground for some time, but being overpowered, fled in disorder into the town. The Tripolines pursued, and although galled by the musquetry from the houses, and by the guns of the battery and ships wherever an opening presented itself, they succeeded in reaching Hamet's palace. All was near being lost; the Arabs were giving way in all directions; the Christians were too few in number to quit their posts, and there was every prospect that Hamet would soon be either killed or made prisoner. Eaton then turned the guns of the battery upon the part of the town about the palace, and some of the Tripolines being killed, a panic seized the others, and they fled with precipitation, pursued by the Arabs, who behaved gallantly on this occasion. Of the Tripolines about eighty were killed or wounded; the loss on Hamet's side did not exceed twelve.

This defeat so much dispirited the Tripolines, that all the exertions of the Beys could not induce them for some time to make another attack; the Arabs obstinately refusing to encamp near the town, or to venture within reach of the cannon shot, with which they had hitherto been entirely unacquainted. Hassan finding bold and open measures ineffectual, resorted to others from which he anticipated more success; he offered six thousand dollars for Eaton's head, and double the sum for him if taken alive. This magnificent promise however produced no effect, doubtless from an apprehension that the task would be difficult, and the reward by no means certain. He then engaged the services of two expert women, who engaged to take off the troublesome infidel by poison; but Eaton having received notice of their plans, took precautions which rendered them ineffectual. The Beys in despair next endeavored to attain their object by an assault, to be made under cover of the camels, which were thus to form a moving parapet in front and on the flanks. But this proposal was attended with no success, the Arabs being as little inclined to risk the lives of their camels as their own. In this state of things the Pasha's army began to disappear; desertions daily took place, and on the 22d of May Eaton writes, "We want nothing but cash to break up our enemy's camp without firing another shot."

Partial attempts were however made on the 28th of May and the first three days of June, which were unsuccessful. On the 7th Hadgi Ismain Bey, commander of the Tripoline cavalry, quitted his post with some followers, and escaped to Egypt, carrying with him the military chest. The Bey of Bengazi was also reported to be wavering, and Eaton in his despatches to Commodore Barron, earnestly urged him to send a few marines and some money, by means of which he pledged himself soon to appear in Tripoli and liberate his captive countrymen.

On the 10th the Tripoline forces received a large accession, and the Beys determined to make a desperate effort. The action was begun by some of their cavalry, who attempted to descend a pass leading to the plain near the town; they were met by a body of Hamet's mounted Arabs, which resisted the attack gallantly, and succeeded in repelling it. Reinforcements appearing on each side, the action became general, and it was supposed that at least five thousand men were engaged. The Tripolines were driven off with some loss; but pursuit was impossible, and Eaton was obliged still to remain, hoping or rather wishing for the reinforcements he had so long requested. At Bomba and since his arrival at Derne, he had received communications from the commanding officer of the American forces in the Mediterranean, which gave him great anxiety, and his situation was every day becoming more uncertain and painful. His doubts were however terminated on the 11th, when the frigate Constellation entered the harbor, bringing despatches from Tripoli, dated the 6th; in order to understand the nature of these several communications, and of his feelings, it will be necessary to relate the occurrences at and before that city since September 1804.

(To be continued.)

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

REMARKS ON A NOTE TO BLACKSTONE'S COMMENTARIES, VOL. I, PAGE 423.

MR. WHITE,—I have read the Note on a passage in Blackstone's Commentaries, which you gave us in your last, with some surprise. I had supposed before, that no gentleman of any intelligence could be found within the four corners of our state, who would seriously undertake to maintain that our domestic slavery, which is obviously the mere creature of our own positive law, is so right and proper in itself, that we are under no obligation whatever to do any thing to remove, or lessen it, as soon as we can. I had thought, indeed, that it was a point conceded on all hands, that, wrong in its origin and principle, it was to be justified, or rather excused, only by the stern necessity which had imposed it upon us without our consent, and which still prevented us from throwing it off at once, without a degree of danger which we could not properly encounter. And, at any rate, I had imagined that all of us were fully satisfied, by this time, that it was an evil of such injurious influence upon our moral, political, and civil interests, that we owed it to ourselves as well as to our subjects, to reduce, and remove it, as soon, and as fast as possible, consistently with the rights which we had created or sanctioned by our laws; and with other considerations which we were bound to regard. In all this, however, it seems, I was reckoning without my host, the author of the article before me, who has come forward, at this late hour, to assert the absolute rectitude and utility of the system, with all the power of his pen. I do not, however, by any means, feel disposed to question his perfect right to do so, or to deny for a moment the ingenuity with which he has labored to maintain his novel position. On the contrary, I freely acknowledge both; but believing at the same time, as I do, that his reasonings are false in their principle, and pernicious in their tendency, I must beg leave to follow his annotations with a few remarks.

And first, the Annotator, after declaring that he has been impelled to defend our domestic slavery "by a pious reverence for the institutions of our forefathers," (a very honorable motive; but strangely misapplied,) proceeds to say: "It is hardly necessary to expose the sophistry by which Mr. Blackstone affects to prove that slavery cannot have had a lawful origin. We do not pretend to trace our title to its source. We have no call to sit in judgment between the conquered African and his conqueror. We rest our defence on principles which legitimate our title, whatever its origin may have been. Yet it may not be amiss to say a few words to show the fallacy of those plausible and imposing dogmas, with which we too often suffer ourselves to be talked down." Now I have always regarded the reasoning of Blackstone on this point as absolutely unanswerable; and I am happy to know that I am not alone in my opinion of its weight; for the late venerable Judge Tucker, I see, in his note upon the same passage, (which I commend to all your readers,) after quoting it at length, adds these words: "Thus by the most clear, manly, and convincing reasoning, does this excellent author refute every claim, upon which the practice of slavery is founded, or by which it has been supposed to be justified, at least, in modern times." I will not, however, too hastily conclude against the Annotator's objections; but endeavor to weigh them with due care. He proceeds thus: "Slavery," says Mr. Blackstone, "cannot originate in compact, because the transaction excludes the idea of an equivalent." This is the substance of Blackstone's argument on this head; but does not give us a full idea of its force. His own statement of it is as follows: "But secondly, it is said that slavery may begin 'jure civili' when one man sells himself to another. This, if only meant of contracts to serve or work for another, is very just; but when applied to strict slavery, in the sense of the laws of old Rome or modern Barbary, is also impossible. Every sale implies a price, a quid pro quo, an equivalent given to the seller in lieu of what he transfers to the buyer; but what equivalent can be given for life and liberty, both of which (in absolute slavery) are held to be in the master's disposal? His property also, the very price he seems to receive, devolves ipso facto to his master, the instant he becomes his slave. In this case, therefore, the buyer gives nothing, and the seller receives nothing: of what validity then can a sale be, which destroys the very principles upon which all sales are founded?" Now this seems to me to be pretty good logic; and how then does the Annotator answer it? Why he says: "For an answer to this specious fallacy, I shall content myself by referring you to the masterly essay of Professor Dew, who has so clearly exposed it as to leave me nothing to add." This is certainly judicious, and I cannot but commend him for his prudence, at least, in thus turning over the trouble of answering such an argument to another. How this latter gentleman, however, (who must take the compliment cum onere,) can have contrived to expose so clearly "the specious fallacy" which, it seems, lurks in it, I confess I cannot imagine; as I have not his "masterly essay" before me. No doubt his exposure must be clever; but, with all due respect for him, it is plainly impossible that it can be sound. As at present advised, therefore, I shall stick to Blackstone, or rather to his reasoning, which, as far as I can see, no human wit can ever refute.

But the Annotator takes upon himself to grapple with another argument of Blackstone, which he states in these words: "The commentator further tells us that slavery cannot lawfully originate in conquest, as a commutation for the right to kill; because this right rests on necessity, and this necessity plainly does not exist, because the victor does not kill his adversary, but makes him captive." Now this, too, I have heretofore taken for very sound logic; and why is it not perfectly so? Why because, says the Annotator, the conqueror may be in such a situation that he can only secure himself against the future hostility of his conquered enemy, by killing, or by enslaving him; and if he may enslave him himself, then he may hand him over to another to deport him; which is the mildest mode of doing the thing. Of course, "the mere captivity of his enemy does not imply the security of the captor, should he allow his prisoner to go free." And he illustrates his argument on this point, very prettily, by a figure. "The snared tiger is in your power. You may kill—you may cage him. Therefore, says Mr. Blackstone, you are under no necessity to do either, and the noble beast has a fair claim to his liberty." This is a dexterous turn; but unluckily it proceeds upon a misconception of the true point of Blackstone's argument, which the Annotator ought to have perceived is itself an answer to another. The commentator, observe, is answering the argument of Justinian, that slavery may arise "jure gentium," from a state of war; that is, from the right of a captor to kill his enemy taken prisoner in battle. "But it is an untrue position," says he, "when taken generally, that by the law of nature or nations, a man may kill his enemy; he has only a right to kill him in particular cases, in cases of absolute necessity for self-defence; and it is plain this absolute necessity did not subsist, since the victor did not actually kill him, but made him prisoner." Now the answer is obviously complete, so far as regards the point to which it applies. But, says the Annotator, it does not settle the question. Perhaps not; nor does Blackstone say that it does; but it settles the argument of Justinian; and that is all that, considered as an answer, it was intended, or could be fairly required, to do.

But why does it not even settle the question? Why, because, says the Annotator, the conqueror has a right to dispose of his captive in such a manner as to protect himself from his future hostility; and if he may not kill, it does not follow that he may not enslave, or transport him, provided it is necessary for his own security, to dispose of him in that way. Very true; but this is new matter, which demands perhaps a new answer; but does not at all invalidate the former answer to the former argument. And with regard to this new matter too, Blackstone has, in my opinion, very fairly answered it in advance by what he immediately adds, but what the Annotator, (inadvertently no doubt,) has kept back. Thus he adds: "War is itself justifiable only on principles of self-preservation, and, therefore, it gives no other right over prisoners, but merely to disable them from doing harm to us, by confining their persons; much less can it give a right to kill, torture, abuse, plunder, or even to enslave, an enemy, when the war is over." To expand this sentence a little. You may, says Blackstone, by the laws of war, put your enemy hors de combat; but you must do it, by the law of humanity, which is a prior and perpetual part of the same law of nature, with as little suffering to him as possible, consistently with your own safety. You may then, I grant you, take him prisoner, and "confine his person," that is, if you cannot venture to discharge him on his parole; but "only while the war lasts;" for the very foundation of your right to confine him grows out of the war, and vanishes, of course, with the return of peace.

Now it is obvious, I think, that this argument, duly considered, very fairly answers, by anticipation, the new matter which the Annotator has brought into view. For how, I ask, can a temporary right to confine your captive durante bello, become the basis for the transfer of an absolute right to enslave and deport him? Obviously, if I must even grant that you can transfer your right of self-defence, or the powers which it involves, to a neutral, (which I might well question,) you can only transfer it to the extent to which you possess it yourself. But your right over your prisoner of war ceases with your war against the nation, or tribe, to which he belongs. And what right, then, can you have to hand him over to an assignee, who you know will continue his dominion over him, (and over his children after him,) without putting it in your power again to restore him, as in duty bound, upon the cessation of hostilities, to his family and friends? Or what right can your assignee have to hold the prisoner under your assignment, one moment after your right itself has run out? Obviously, none at all. A holds a slave, who is to serve for the life of B, but to be free afterwards, and sells him to C in fee simple; what right has C to hold him after the death of B? Clearly none at all.

There is no escaping from the force of this argument, as far as I can see, but by maintaining, (as the Annotator indeed seems disposed to do,) that barbarians can have no peace with each other; but that war among them must be waged ad internecionem, to the point of mutual extermination, or something equivalent. But this notion is plainly more barbarous than the practice of the most barbarous tribes that we have ever read, or heard of; for there is not one of them that does not make peace, after its fashion; (or did not at least, before our European slavers taught them a different lesson,) and the act of making peace obviously implies that there can be, and is, a reasonable security against future hostilities, without the destruction of either party. And there is no tribe on earth, I suppose, (or was not before the slave-trade began,) so absolutely and desperately barbarous as to insist upon holding its captives after the war is over, and the treaty of peace fairly ratified by a smoking match, or a dance upon the green.

But the Annotator may yet say, (and does in fact,) that granting all this, the captor may have been in the dilemma which he has supposed, during the war; that is, he may have been obliged to kill or sell his captives immediately, to save himself; and he puts a case to illustrate his argument on this point. "When Colonel Campbell, at the head of a few militia, stooped from the mountains of Virginia on Carolina, and bore off the corps of Colonel Ferguson in his pounces, had he been pursued and overtaken by Tarleton, he must have killed his prisoners. He could not have held them, and to have enlarged them would have been to sacrifice the lives of thousands. If, then, he had had no place of refuge, he might have handed them over to any custody, civilized or savage, in which they might have been removed from the theatre of the war." But this case is obviously an imaginary one; and such as could hardly have occurred in fact. It is remarkable indeed that the Annotator could find no example in all the romance of real life to suit the exigence of his argument; but was compelled to fabricate one for the purpose; or at least to piece out an actual occurrence, by a supplemental supposition or two of his own; and even then could not make it serve his turn. Thus Colonel Campbell was not "pursued and overtaken by Tarleton," and, if he had been, would evidently have had to fight or surrender, and could have had no time to think about the supposed alternative of killing his prisoners, or handing them over to a third party, even if one had been there to receive them. And if you vary the case a little, so as to make him pursued, but not overtaken; the time that you will thus give him to hand over his prisoners to others, will equally suffice to enable him to escape with them himself. Or if you give him time enough to hand them over; but not enough to escape with them, (a point of nicety that is hardly conceivable,) then you also allow the pursuing enemy time enough, in all probability, to come up and recapture them from their new holders; the very thing to be avoided. The case, therefore, is evidently altogether fanciful, and proves nothing. At all events, it is quite clear that such a nodus as it indicates could not have occurred in any single instance of the sale of captives for slaves, by any African chief, to the master of a Spanish ship. At least, it is quite fair to say that, in general, the mere fact of the captor's having sold his captive, even during the war, must be prima facie, if not conclusive evidence, that he could not have been in the dilemma imagined, of being obliged to kill, or to enslave him; for it must be obvious that if he had him so completely in his power as to be able to bargain, sell, and deliver him to the slaver, and to receive his money or goods stipulated for him in return; he could not have been very closely pursued by any barbarous Tarleton in his rear at the time, and could not have been under any pressing necessity to do either the one thing, or the other; but, for aught that appears, might have disposed of his prisoner in some more humane manner. The onus probandi, then, or burden of proof, to show that in point of fact the captor and vender of any African slave, was, in any case whatever, in the precise predicament supposed, must be on the Annotator; and can he bear it? Hardly, I suppose. But of what avail, then, can it be to his argument, that he can imagine or invent a case, (or a hundred cases, if he likes,) in which there might have been a lawful origin of slavery, when he evidently cannot show that any thing like it has ever occurred in fact, from the first beginning of the slave trade down to the present time?

Thus it appears that the reasoning of Blackstone to prove the unlawfulness of slavery in its origin, is as strong as we have always thought it; and very easily defends itself against all that any ingenuity can urge against it. But say that it is not so; and grant, if you please, for the sake of argument, that it is all "a specious fallacy" indeed; what then? Does it follow that slavery as it exists in our state, was just and lawful in its origin? By no means. For say that Mr. Dew has by some miraculous effort of intellect, very clearly established, in the face of Blackstone's demonstration, (and in the face of our Bill of Rights also,) that a man can sell himself; can it be shown that, in point of fact, any single one of the slaves who were imported into our colony from the year 1620 to the revolution, had actually sold himself to any one who claimed to be his owner? And say, also, that the Annotator has proved, against the unanswerable argument of his author, (and against the plainest principles of the law of nature,) that a conqueror may justly enslave and export his prisoner of war in any imaginable case whatever, can it be made to appear that any one of the Africans brought to our shore was really captured, and sold, in such a state of things? On the contrary, we have unhappily the most ample evidence from history, that the whole of our exotic slaves were either stolen from their native woods, and brought away against their will, or under false and fraudulent promises which were never performed; or bought for swords and rum, (fit price for such articles!) from those who had captured them, not in just and necessary wars of self-defence, but in predatory hostilities, excited and fomented for the very purpose, by the worst of pirates, the foulest and most deadly enemies of the human race.

But passing from this "grave sophistry," as he calls it, of Blackstone, the Annotator now comes to the consideration of those "principles" on which he chooses to rest his defence of slavery, and "which," he says, "legitimate our title, whatever its origin may have been." But can any principles, I ask, do this? If slavery, as we have seen, is clearly wrong in its origin; that is, if it is, in itself, a violation of the law of nature, can any thing "legitimate" it; that is, make it lawful; by that law? Is not the law of nature, like its author, immutable, and eternal? And must not that, then, which is against this law in one age, be equally against it in another, and in every succeeding age, to the end of time? And if slavery, then, was unlawful in its origin, must it not be so now, and continue to be so forever? Or, can the mere lapse of time make it lawful? But that cannot alter the nature of things. Indeed I may remind the Annotator, that our municipal law even, while it legalizes slavery, does not allow any length of time to bar a claim to freedom; and much less, then, can the law of nature, which has no statute of limitations in its code.

But waiving this, let us see, for a moment, what these principles are which the Annotator supposes may "legitimate our title, whatever its origin may have been." What are they? Why, if I understand his view of the subject, (though it is not, I think, very clearly conveyed,) it is substantially this. By the decree of God, who has said, that "man shall eat of the fruit of the earth by the sweat of his face," there must always be a working class of men, in every country, who must be satisfied to labor for their victuals and clothes; that being the natural and impassable stint of their wages. It makes no manner of odds, therefore, whether the members of this working class be free or slave: if they are fed and clothed, it is all that they have a right to expect, or any reason to demand. In point of fact, indeed, the slave of this class is perhaps rather better off than the freeman; since he is usually better fed and better clothed; and if he has no hope of any thing better, he has no fear of any thing worse; and, upon the whole, has a pretty considerable balance of comfort on his side. It follows from all this, that his master may, very legitimately, hold him down as a slave, ad indefinitum, (that is, till slavery "runs out" of itself, as he thinks it may in time,) without feeling any qualm of conscience in the case, or giving himself any trouble whatever about the matter.

Now all this is doubtless very pretty, and very imposing! It has, however, I acknowledge, some small mixture of truth in it; and if it were offered merely by way of apology for our slavery, and as a set-off against the gross caricatures of it which are sometimes drawn by the ultras of the other side, and especially by our northern abolitionists, I should hardly choose to criticise it too nicely. Indeed I am happy to believe myself, that bad as the system unquestionably is, it is yet not without some alleviating concomitants, which materially soften its natural horrors, and may properly serve to make us endure it with more patience, while we must. But if the Annotator intends to go further than this, and to prove by these remarks, (as I understand him to do,) that it is right and lawful; then I must protest against the reasoning as utterly vain and irrelevant. For, granting all his premises, (though there are certainly some rather strange and startling propositions among them; yet granting them all for the sake of argument,) I really cannot perceive how the conclusion follows from them. For if I grant that there must be a working class, does it follow that we have a right to determine by compulsion, or by positive law, who shall compose that class? The decree of Divine Providence, as quoted by the Annotator himself, is that "man," (that is, that all men,) shall work for his bread. What right, then, has any one portion, or set of men, to slip their own necks out of "the brazen collar," (as he calls it,) of toil; and fasten it immoveably and inexorably upon another? Is not this at once evading and altering, as it were, the counsel of the Creator of all? And if I grant, also, that the slave is happier than the free laborer, does it follow that his master may lawfully hold him as such? Does the question of right depend simply, or at all, upon the degree of happiness which the laborer enjoys? And have I, then, a right to make any man work for me, according to my will and pleasure, provided I take care to feed and clothe him well, and make him as happy as any laborer can expect to be? Would the Annotator think it exactly right to have such a principle carried home to himself? But he would perhaps say, that I must not take quite so great a range as that, but be satisfied to take my man from "the working class." But who compose this working class? All those, I presume, who have been reduced by the various misfortunes of human life, to the hard necessity of laboring for others, for their daily bread. But would any one of this class consent to have the principle of compulsion brought to bear against him, and surrender forever all hope and chance of "escaping to the upper air" of a higher class? Certainly not. Then I must yet further take care, I suppose, to see that my man whom I am to force to labor for me, on the Annotator's principle, shall be black. So the question of right turns at last upon the color of the skin. Admirable logic indeed!

But the Annotator thinks that he has found something like an argument to prove the lawfulness of our slavery, in the text of his author, who happens to say (on another point,) that, "by the law of England, all single men between twelve years old and sixty, and married ones under thirty years of age, and all single women between twelve and forty, not having any visible livelihood, are compellable by two justices to go out to service in husbandry, or certain specified trades." "This," says he, "is as much as to say, they who can only live by labor shall be made to labor. What more do we? They compel him to choose a master. We appropriate his labor to a master to whom use and a common interest attach him, and who is generally the master of his choice. The wages of both are the same"—to wit, victuals and clothes. And he adds afterwards, "It is here; on this very point, of the necessity of forcing those to labor who are unable to live honestly without labor, that we base the defence of our system." This is pleasant indeed; but does not the Annotator perceive that he has entirely mistaken the principle of the English law, which is not, as he states it, that "they who can only live by labor shall be made to labor;" but that those who can only live by labor, and yet will not labor for themselves, and are, therefore, likely to become chargeable to the parish, shall be made to labor for a time, and for wages, until they have learned, in this way, to work freely and willingly, for their own support. But, according to this principle, it is easy to see that hundreds and thousands of our slaves would be entitled to their freedom at once; for it cannot be pretended that many of them at least would not be both able and willing to labor for themselves; and if all, or the larger part of them, would not, it can only be because their very slavery itself has incapacitated them for voluntary toil. But can we, then, plead a defect of theirs which is the consequence of our own act, to justify that act, in this way? Surely this ground of defence must be abandoned at once, as wholly untenable, and even dangerous in the highest degree. At any rate, there is no reason to charge the English law with countenancing our system. The English law says that a freeman who can, and will not, work to support himself shall be made to do so; in order that others may not be called upon to support him. Our law says that all slaves shall be made to work for their masters, whether they are able and willing to support themselves, or not. Is the principle of both laws the same, or entirely different?

But the Annotator finds an excellent reason why our mode of compelling all slaves to work, should even be preferred to the English one of compelling freemen to do so in particular cases; and it is curious enough. I must give it in his own words: "That such compulsion," says he, "is often necessary, all reason and experience prove. But to a people jealous of freedom, it is a delicate question whether such a power can be safely trusted to the municipal authority. To make it effectual it must be a power dangerous to liberty. It could never be carried into effect but by a degree of rigor which must bow the spirit of the laborer, and effectually disqualify him for the political functions of a sovereign citizen." This is truly excellent. So, then, it would be dangerous to our liberty to have such a law as that of England which allows, in certain cases, a freeman who is likely to become a freebooter, or at least a hanger-on upon the community, to be compelled to work for himself; and not at all dangerous to that same liberty to compel one half of our population to work for the other! It would, forsooth, "bow the spirit of the laborer," (as if the vagabond had any spirit to bow,) and "disqualify him for the political functions of a sovereign citizen;" and so to prevent that occasional disqualification of a few, we must systematically disqualify hundreds and thousands from performing those same functions of freemen, which are so important and interesting to the whole body politic! A notable expedient indeed to preserve the purity and lustre of our liberty, from all possible danger of destruction or decay!

Upon the whole, I must say that, in my judgment, the Annotator has failed entirely either to invalidate Blackstone's argument against the lawfulness of slavery in its origin, or to advance any principles whatever which can legitimate it, as it exists in our state, at the present time. I must not, however, by any means, be understood as meaning to convey the idea that I consider it as altogether indefensible before the tribunal of an impartial world. On the contrary, I still hold, as I have always done, that under the peculiar circumstances in which we find it amongst us, it is justifiable, or rather excusable, upon the soundest principles of the law of nature; and, more particularly, upon the principle of necessity and self-defence. By the law of nature, I may take away the life of another when I cannot otherwise defend my own. Of course, I may take away his liberty in a like case; and, a fortiori, I may continue my custody of his person, when he has been committed to my charge, however wrongfully, by one in whose act I had no participation; and when I cannot release him without hazarding my own safety, and his too. To apply this principle to the subject before us; our fathers have fastened this enormous evil upon us in the beginning without our concurrence or consent; and we now find and feel it to be too great and complicated for us to think of removing it at once. To emancipate our slaves on the spot, would indeed, in all human probability, be followed by the ruin of both parties; and would at least be an experiment too tremendous in its aspect, and too uncertain in its issue, to be rashly tried. In this state of things, therefore, we may, I conceive, most rightfully and properly, continue to hold them, as we would hold prisoners of war, whose persons, we have seen, we may lawfully confine while it is necessary for us to do so in order to protect ourselves from their hostilities; but whom, at the same time, we must sincerely and earnestly desire to liberate, and send back to their own country, as soon as we can.

A VIRGINIAN.

The Western Monthly Magazine concurs with us in our opinions of Vathek. The editor says, "Vathek is the production of a sensual and perverted mind. The events are extravagant, the sentiments pernicious, and the moral bad. It has nothing to recommend it but ease of style and copiousness of language."

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.

"I'll make thee famous with my pen, And glorious with my sword."

It is said, and truly said, that "Truth is often more incredible than fiction." It is natural too, that we should take a deeper interest in the fortunes of creatures of flesh and blood, who have actually lived and suffered, than in the imaginary sorrows of beings that are themselves but figments of the writer's brain.

Why then do we so rarely meet with any narrative of facts which engages our feelings so deeply as a well wrought fiction? May it not be that in all histories of a romantic character there is, from the very nature of the thing, a degree of mystery which we cannot penetrate; and that the innumerable little incidents, which adorn the pages of a romance, and so aptly illustrate the characters of the parties, are hidden by the veil of domestic privacy? It might be allowable to supply these; but the attempt to do so, is always offensive to the reader. We are disgusted at seeing truth alloyed by fiction, and the fiction always betrays itself. Let a characteristic chit-chat be detailed, and we find ourselves wondering who it was that took notes of the conversation. We read the scene between Ravenswood and Miss Ashton at the haunted fountain, and never ask, whether she rose from her grave, or he emerged from the Kelpie's flow, to describe it to the writer. But such a narrative concerning real persons, would inevitably disgust us; and no writer of any tact would ever attempt it. None above the grade of Parson Weems ever did. There is no wilder romance than his life of Marion. But who reads it? We feel that it profanes the truth of history with fiction, and we throw it away with disgust. Yet it comes nearer to Schiller's masterpiece, "The Robbers," than any thing else. Is it less interesting because the prompting impulse of the hero is virtuous, not criminal? No; but there is just truth enough to keep us always mindful of the falsehood.

The great art, and the great charm of Walter Scott, is that he never describes his characters. He brings us into their society, and makes us know them. But how shall I make known the persons of whom I wish to speak? I can say that HE was generous and brave, sincere, and kind, and true, and that SHE was fair and gentle, and pure and tender. These are but words, and have been repeated till they have lost their meaning. I can say that both loved; but how can I show the passion flashing in the eye, and glowing in the cheek—and how can I give it breath in their own burning words? I heard them not. None heard them. I can say that the hand of destiny was upon them, and tore them asunder, to meet no more. I can even use the words of one whose strains he loved, to tell

"That neither ever found another To free the hollow heart from paining;"

but how can I develope the mysterious means by which this destiny was accomplished? How could I speak, but in their own words, uttered only to the midnight solitude, the deep yearnings of their hearts—and the noble enthusiasm which made it the task of his life to render glorious the name of him she had honored with her love? Could these details be given truly, what a romance of real life would they form! Let the reader judge from the following lines found among his papers, when the damps of the grave had at last cooled the fever of his brain.

'Tis sweet, when night is hushed in deep repose; And hides the Minstrel's form from every eye; To breathe the thoughts that speech can ne'er disclose, In all the eloquence of harmony. The mellow strain pervades the silent air, And mingles with the sleeper's blissful dream: The Lover hears the song of maiden fair; The humble saint, an Angel's holy hymn. Then sweet to know that she, for whom alone, Pours the wild stream of plaintive melody, Recalls the voice of Love in every tone; Approves its truth, and owns its purity. Borne on the breeze that cools her glowing cheek, But fans the ardor of her fevered breast; Lifts the loose lock that floats upon her neck, Sports round her couch, and hovers o'er her rest: Borne on that breeze, it greets her listening ear With tales of raptured bliss and tender wo; And tells of Joy and Grief, of Hope, Despair, And all that love, and Love alone can know. Her fair companions hear the soothing sound, But mute to them the voice that speaks to her; Burns the warm blush, unmarked of all around, And darkling falls, unseen, the silent tear. But not unseen of all; for to his eye, By Fancy's magic light she stands revealed; Her bosom struggling with the half-breathed sigh, By the strong pressure of her hand repelled. The Tear that in the moon-beam sparkles bright; The pensive look; the outstretched neck of snow; The Blush, contending with the silver light, Whose cold pale gleam would quench its fervid glow; He sees and hears it all. The music's stream Extends a viewless chord of sympathy, Thought answers thought; and, lost in Fancy's dream, Each breast responsive swells with sigh for sigh. Then O how sweet! warmed by the sacred flame, Of mutual—true,—but fruitless—hopeless love, To run the high career of deathless fame, And mid the world's admiring gaze to move Reckless of all but her. By midnight lamp, To turn, with heedful eye, the learned page; To shake the Senate, or to rule the Camp; To brave the tempest's blast, or battle's rage! What is the thought that prompts his studious zeal? That mans his breast in danger's fearful path? That nerves his arm to grasp the gory steel, Despising toil and hardship, wounds and death? It is that she the impassioned strain will love, That gives her charms in deathless verse to shine; Her favoring smile his steadfast faith approve; Her raptured tears bedew each glowing line. It is that she will cherish the renown Of noble deeds achieved her name to grace; And prize the heart that beat for her alone, In glory's triumph, and in death's embrace. 'Tis that a grateful nation's loud acclaim May pour his praises on her favoring ear; 'Tis that the twilight splendor of his name The widowed darkness of her heart may cheer. O! ever lovely, loving and beloved; Constant in absence; constant in despair! By time unwearied, by caprice unmoved; Thy lover's faith and fame thine only care! Tho' known to none but thee thy minstrel's name, Or who the fair that caused his tender pain; All undistinguished by the voice of fame, The bard who sung; the maid that waked the strain. Yet may'st thou catch the unconscious sympathy Of some soft nymph, who, from her lover's tongue, Hears, with averted look and blush and sigh, Her heart's fond secret in this artless song. But were I skilled to weave the immortal verse, Which after ages with applause would read; Thy praise in fitting accents I'd rehearse, And with unfading bay would crown thy head. Then should my Laura's charms survive the tomb, In strains like that the fairy bulbul sings, When all unseen he wakes the midnight gloom, Hovering o'er beauty's grave on viewless wings.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

EXTRACT FROM A LADY'S ALBUM.

And must I stain this virgin leaf, So fair, so pure, and so like thee! It grieves me—but it is thy will; And that is always law to me. 'Tis said that those who feel the most Can best describe love's potent spell— That what the heart most deeply feels, The tongue most eloquently tells. Alas! it is an erring rule— It is not true! it is not true! Strong Passion's voice was ever low; And lower yet as Passion grew. When fiercest winds o'er ocean sweep, The sea is quell'd—no billows roll Their foaming crests upon the deep. Thus Passion treads the very soul Low in the dust, and bids it weep In silent anguish—and 'tis still As the aw'd slave who bows before a despot's will. Then think not I can tell my love In well-set phrase, with fitting smiles; He loves not—Oh! believe it true— Who knows and practices such wiles.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

THE PRAYER.

Oh! mother, whither do they lead This wretched form, this drooping frame? What means the white rose in my hair? These jewels sure are not a dream. Of wither'd leaves 'twere better far The bridal chaplet had been wove— Oh! mother, lead me back again; I cannot love—I cannot love! Look not for love—it is in vain! Within this heart no more it dwells: Unclasp the volume if thou wilt, And ponder on the truth it tells. Ah! dearest mother, do not seek To warm to life a thing that dies, Nor re-illume the flame, when once The shrine, in hopeless ruin lies. Not to the altar, mother—no, I cannot kneel and speak that vow— Oh! let me rend these hated gems, And tear the white rose from my brow. Nay, let the dark grave be my couch, Of cypress leaves my bridal wreath, And I will wed,—yes, gladly wed, And clasp my welcome bridegroom, Death!

OCTAVIAN.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

SELECTIONS FROM MY PORT FOLIO.

MY OWN OPINION—A la Shakspeare.

There are, who say she is not beautiful. "Her forehead's not well turned," cries one. "The nose Too large"—"Her mouth ill-chiselled," says a third. With these, I claim no fellowship. For me, ('tis an odd taste, I know, and now-a-days, When people feel by rule, such taste is thought Exceedingly romantic—yet 'tis true,) I look not with this mathematic eye On woman's face; I carry not about The compass, and the square—and when I'm asked, "Is that face fine?" draw forth my instruments, And coolly calculate the length of chin, Th' expanse of forehead, and the distance take Twixt eye and nose, and then, twixt nose and mouth, And if, exactly correspondent, it Should not prove just so much, two and three-eighths, Or, one four-fifths, disgusted, turn away, And vow "'tis vile! there is no beauty in't!" Out, on this mechanic disposition! Look you! That man was born a carpenter. He hath no heart—he hath no soul in him, Who thus insults the "human face divine," And tests its beauty with a vile inch-rule, As he would test the beauty of a box, A chess-board, or a writing-desk! Oh no! It is not in the feature's symmetry (For choose of earth the most symmetric face, Phidias shall carve as perfect—out of stone,) That the deep beauty lies! Give me the face That's warm—that lives—that breathes—made radiant By an informing spirit from within! Give me the face that varies with the thought, That answers to the heart! and seems, the while, With such a separate consciousness endued, That, as we gaze, we can almost believe It is itself a heart—and, of itself, Doth feel and palpitate! And such is her's! One need but look on, to converse with her! Why I, without a thought of weariness, Have sat, and gazed on her for hours! and oft, As I have listened to her voice, and marked The beautiful flash of her fine dark eye, And the eloquent beaming of her face, And the tremulous glow that, when she spoke, Pervaded her whole being,—I have dreamed A spirit held communion with me then, And could have knelt to worship!

P. H.

Augusta, Georgia.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

LETTERS FROM NEW ENGLAND.—NO. 4.

BY A VIRGINIAN.

Albany, N. Y. July 27th, 1834.

It is a Southern opinion, that the large factories which have grown up in the North, within the last seventeen years, are of a very demoralizing tendency: that so many persons—such persons too—cannot be housed together, and allowed the free intercourse unavoidable where the restraint is not for crime, without a large result of licentiousness and vice. I have long thought thus: and must confess I entered New England with a sort of wish (arising from my hostility to the protective system,) to have the opinion confirmed. In some places, I heard and saw confirmation strong: but in most—and those the chief seats of manufactures—my inquiries resulted directly otherwise. The laborers there, it seems, are as moral as any other class of the population. The females watch each other's deportment with the most jealous vigilance: a slip is at once exposed, and punished by expulsion; even a slight indiscretion is sure to draw down remonstrance, and if that fails, complaint to the ruling power. The boys and girls are allowed a reasonable part of the year to attend the common-schools; and are encouraged at all seasons to frequent Sunday schools. Lectures, occasional or in courses, are delivered, of which the operatives are eager hearers: and social Libraries, with habits of reading, sometimes produce among them strengthened and well stored minds. Wherever these good effects appear, be it observed, the proprietors and superintendents (generally men of fortune, as well as intelligence) have taken the greatest possible care to produce them. And where the unfavorable appearances occurred, there seemed to have been a corresponding neglect on the part of owners and agent.

The natural course of these establishments, then, seems to be down the stream of vice. Great exertions may enable them to resist, nay to surmount and ascend the current; but so soon as those efforts cease, that instant the downward tendency prevails.¹ While the manufacturing system is young—while high protecting duties enable employers to give high wages—while a desire to conciliate favor to the system keeps both owners and operatives upon their best behavior—the favorable moral condition I have described may continue. But the oarsman cannot forever row up the stream; weariness, or confidence, or incaution, will, some day, relax his arm. In process of time, these promiscuous assemblages of hundreds and thousands will vindicate the justness of the reasoning, which argues the danger of contamination (a sort of spontaneous combustion) from so close a contact:² will shew themselves rank hot beds of vice; and make the lover of good morals grieve, that so many souls should ever have been seduced from the healthful air of field, and forest, and rustic fireside, to sicken and die in a tainted, unnatural atmosphere.

¹ Non aliter quam qui adverso vix flumine lembum Remigiis subigit; si brachia forté remisit, Atque illum in præceps prono rapit alveus amni.

² In Godwin's Inquirer, are some very just and forcible observations on the corrupting effect upon youth, of too close and numerous an association with each other. He applies it to large boarding schools. The enlightened President of a Rhode Island University, on similar grounds (as he told me), does all that he can to discourage students from boarding and lodging in College. Observation and experience had shewn him the danger of spontaneous combustion, from the too near approach of human passions and weaknesses. The same principle applies to the case of Factory hands: only, here, are superadded, elements which incalculably enhance the danger.

I mentioned Lectures, and social Libraries.—These, and similar institutions for diffusing knowledge among the multitude, are among the chief glories of New England. In all the cities, and many of the larger and middling towns (towns in the English sense,) there are Lyceums, Young Men's Societies, Library Societies, or associations under some such name, for mental exercise and improvement. A collection of books is a usual, and a philosophical apparatus an occasional appendage. Connectedly with these institutions, or sometimes, independently of them, Lectures on every variety of subjects that can instruct or profit mankind, are delivered by public spirited men—professional and unprofessional—sometimes, by farmers and mechanics themselves. They are gratuitous; and in a style plain enough to be understood by all classes of society, who flock to hear them. For these occasions, the first abilities of the country have now and then been put in requisition. Story, Everett, and Webster—alike with the village teacher and mechanic; have contributed their quota of MIND, towards the holy cause of Popular Instruction. A valuable lecture from each of these; from Mr. Everett indeed, two Lectures—are in Vol. 1 of the "American Library of useful knowledge." The name of this work at once suggests that a similar one, published by Mr. Brougham and his generous associates in Great Britain, in fortnightly pamphlets, at a rate so cheap as to be within every laborer's reach; unfolding, in a familiar style, the useful parts of scientific and historical knowledge. To his share in this work, Brougham, you remember, having his hands already filled with pressing employments, was obliged to devote "hours stolen from needful rest." How magnanimous the spirit, which could prompt that "hardest lesson that humility can teach—a voluntary descent from the dignity of science,"³ to explain the simple rudiments of knowledge to unlettered minds! the spirit, which could make genius and power drudge in the lowliest walks of learning, to open and smooth them for the ingress of intellectual "babes and sucklings!" When will the great of Virginia deign this magnanimous descent? When will our Leigh, our Tazewell, our Barbour, our Rives, our Johnson, our Stanard, our Robertson—a generous spirit, from whose devotion to democracy, something might be expected towards fitting his countrymen for self government—when will they, and the host of talents besides that Virginia possesses, be found striving in this noble race of usefulness with Brougham, Jeffrey, McIntosh, Webster and Everett? That trumpet-call of the North American Review five years ago, which might have roused apathy itself to energetic effort in the cause of Popular Education, and which—whether it betokened only, or strengthened, the beneficent operation of the spirit that has so long been diffusing through the North the blessed light of MIND—doubtless met a response in every Northern bosom; that trumpet-call, in Virginia, fell upon senseless ears. You indeed, I remember, echoed it; but trumpet-call and echo both, sounded in ears deaf save to the miserable wranglings of party, about the more miserable pretensions of opposing candidates: and, at this day, our people, and their leaders, are in a slumber as profound on this subject, as if we had no Literary Fund—no Primary Schools—no youth to educate—no country to save from the certain fate of popular ignorance.

³ Dr. Johnson.

It is bed time, and I must forbear saying more at present. Yet I have not done with New England: there remain several topics, which I incline to touch. So you shall hear from me at my next stopping place.

West Point, N. Y., July 28.

On board the Steam-boat this morning, I met —— —— and his family; who, without my knowing it, were in Albany all of yesterday. They have landed here too; and we expect to descend the river together to New York city, to-morrow. He has given me a very gratifying account of the Temperance reformation in this state. It seems to be triumphant, beyond all experience in Virginia, or even in New England. The means have been, perfectly organized action—great diligence of exertion—and the use of the PRESS. The organization consists in a regular and intimate concert, of township societies with county societies, and of these with the State society. This powerful machinery has been aided by the active zeal, and generosity, of individuals, who have profusely lavished time, and toil, and money, to advance the goodly work. And by a judicious use of a great modern improvement of the Press, a monthly paper (the Temperance Recorder) is published, at the price of seventeen cents per annum: a copy of which, or of some other Temperance newspaper, it is believed, is received by almost every family in the state. Measures are taking to convey light thus to, absolutely, every family. Cannot something like this be done in Virginia? In Massachusetts, I perceived with regret, a strong disposition to invoke Legislative action in support of the Temperance Society: to get the making and vending of ardent spirits prohibited by Law. In New York, they disarm opposition of so plausible a pretext for hostility, by fixedly determining to ask—to accept—no such aid; but to rely exclusively upon reasoning, the exhibition of facts, and the influence of example—means, which have already achieved, what were seven years ago deemed chimæras, and which will doubtless be fully adequate to the consummation of this great work.—But I am digressing from my design, of dwelling a little longer on some features of New England.

Manual Labor Schools (on the Fellenberg plan) have not multiplied there, or grown in esteem, as might have been expected from the forwardness of the people in adopting every valuable improvement; and particularly, from the congeniality of this one with their own long-cherished custom, of blending labor with study. Possibly, this very custom may, in their eyes, make the improvement unnecessary: since their youth already substantially enjoy its advantages. To study in winter—to work in summer—has, time out of mind, been the routine of New England education: differing from the Fellenberg method only in having the alternations half-yearly, instead of half-daily.—Franklin, the Trumbulls, Sherman, Dwight, Pickering, Webster, Burges, and all the illustrious self-made men, who have rendered that otherwise unkindly soil so verdant with laurels, were nurtured strictly in the discipline of manual labor schools: and perhaps the new method would be quite needless, were not the progress of wealth, luxury, indolence and pride, now rapidly swelling the numbers of those who, urged by no necessity, and relying upon no exertions of their own for distinction, would never feel the salutary influence of labor, if not sent to schools where it is taught; and were not the same progress multiplying those also, who never could procure instruction, except by the opportunity which this method affords them, of purchasing it by their labor. Perhaps too, the Common Schools (in which poor and rich are equally entitled to learn) may tend still more to render the new plan useless; as to the branches of knowledge taught in them.

Infant Schools appear to have sunk a good deal in esteem, among intelligent people in New England. At Hartford, a lady, whose name (were it seemly to publish a lady's name) would give commanding weight to the opinion, told me that they were found hurtful both to body and mind: To body (and this the physicians confirmed) by overexciting, and thus injuring, the brain and the nervous system: to mind, by inducing the habit of learning parrot-like, by rote—by sound merely—without exercise of the thinking power. It seems agreed, that some features of the infant school system may advantageously be transferred to ordinary schools: for instance, the use of tangible and visible symbols and illustrations. And infant schools themselves are certainly well enough, for those children who would otherwise have to be left alone, or untended, while their parents are abroad or at work. But for young children, where the sternest necessity does not forbid, there is nothing comparable to domestic education; no care, no skill, no authority, like those of a mother—or of a father. And how few parents there are, who, by methodical husbandry of time, and reasonable exertion of intellect, might not find both leisure and ability to train the minds and form the habits of their offspring, for at least the first nine years of life!

The Common-school system, as a system, is certainly admirable. But some minutiæ of its administration may be censured. Teachers are often tasked with too many pupils. I saw a young woman of twenty, toiling in the sway of fifty-two noisy urchins, with twenty of whom I am quite sure my hands would have been over-full: and it was said to be no unusual case. Then, Webster's spelling book is in frequent use. There are half a dozen better ones. And the barbarous usage, of making a child go on to spell in five or six syllables, before he is allowed the refreshment of reading—instead of teaching him to read as soon as he can spell in three letters, and then carrying on the two processes together, to their mutual acceleration—is still kept up, as in our old-field schools.—A usage about as worthy of this enlightened age, as the old rule, of whipping a boy for miscalling a word, or for not crossing a t. I was glad to see Warren Colburn's books—his Intellectual Arithmetic particularly—in pretty general use. His merit is, not so much that he has smoothed the road to that child-perplexing branch of knowledge (though in that respect he has entitled himself to every child's gratitude), as that he has rendered the study an improving exercise to the mind—a strengthener and quickener of the reasoning faculty; and has disclosed the rationalia of many processes of calculation, as mysterious before to the young mind as so many feats of jugglery. A pervading fault in the management of the common-schools, is a false economy; shewn, in choosing teachers less by their proper qualifications, than by their cheapness. In Connecticut, more especially, this wretched mistake seems to prevail; as a curious fact, told me in Providence, strikingly illustrates. Of the many who go forth from the University there, and from several good Academies in the state of Rhode Island, to find employment as teachers in the adjoining states, few or none, it was said, found it in Connecticut: owing to the niggardly wages paid there. The man for their money, is he who asks the least.

Wide discretion, as to the classification of the Common-schools, and as to the extent of the studies in them, is given to the Towns. In some, the people, or their commissioners appointed to superintend the schools, are content with a single grade or tier, in which are taught merely the necessary sorts of knowledge, from Arithmetic downwards. Others classify them, into 1st. primary schools, where only spelling, reading, and writing, are taught: 2nd. secondary schools, for the rudiments of Arithmetic, Geography, English Grammar, and further progress in reading and writing: 3rd. Apprentices' schools, where the above branches are further taught, with the addition of some History, Book-keeping, and Geometry: 4th. High schools, for Algebra, Geometry, use of the Globes, Latin, (and sometimes Greek) with perhaps the elements of Natural Philosophy. The classification sometimes stops at the third, sometimes at the second, tier. There are but few towns, in which it is carried to the fourth. Worcester is one of these: Boston, and Salem, are the only others that I heard of. In the first and second grades, boys and girls are schooled together: in the higher grades, male and female schools, are separate.