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THE

AMERICAN

QUARTERLY REVIEW.

No. XVIII.

JUNE, 1831.

Philadelphia:
CAREY & LEA.
SOLD IN PHILADELPHIA BY E. L. CAREY & A. HART.
NEW-YORK, BY G. & C. & H. CARVILL.
LONDON:—R. J. KENNETT, 59 GREAT QUEEN STREET.
PARIS:—A. & W. GALIGNANI, RUE VIVIENNE.

[Art. I.]—College-Instruction and Discipline
[Art. II.]—The Life and Times of His late Majesty, George the Fourth
[Art. III.]—Essay on the Hieroglyphic System
[Art. IV.]—Iron
[Art. V.]—The Siamese Twins
[Art. VI.]—Europe and America
[Art. VII.]—Webster's Speeches and Forensic Arguments
[Art. VIII.]—Poland
[Art. IX.]—History of Maryland
[Art. X.]—Peale's Notes on Italy
[Index]—Volumes 1 and 2

AMERICAN QUARTERLY REVIEW.

No. XVIII.

JUNE, 1831.

Art. I.—COLLEGE-INSTRUCTION AND DISCIPLINE.

1.—Journal of the Proceedings of a Convention of Literary and Scientific Gentlemen, held in the Common Council Chamber of the City of New-York. October, 1830. New-York: pp. 286. 8vo.

2.—Catechism of Education, Part 1st, &c. By William Lyon Mackenzie. Member of the Parliament of Upper Canada. York: 1830. pp. 46. 8vo.

3.—Address of the State Convention of Teachers and Friends of Education, held at Utica. January 12th, 13th, and 14th, 1831. With an Abstract of the Proceedings of said Convention. Utica: 1831. pp. 16. 8vo.

4.—Oration on the advantages to be derived from the Introduction of the Bible and of Sacred Literature as essential parts of all Education, in a literary point of view merely, from the Primary Schools to the University: delivered before the Connecticut Alpha of the ΦΒΚ Society. On Tuesday, September 7th, 1830. By Thomas Smith Grimke, of Charleston, S. C. New-Haven: 1830. pp. 76. 8vo.

5.—Lecture on Scientific Education, delivered Saturday, December 18th, 1830, before the Members of the Franklin Institute. By James R. Leib, A. M. Philadelphia: 1831. pp. 16. 8vo.

The subject of practical education has always been one of intense interest with every reflecting individual in this Union. It is a universally received axiom, that the foundation of a republic must be in the information of its people; and that whilst the monarchical governments of other countries may be successfully administered by an oligarchy of intelligence, a government like our own cannot be carried on without an extensive diffusion of knowledge amongst those who have to select its very machinery. The political circumstances of a country will also modify, most importantly, the course of instruction; and that system which is adopted in the old Universities of Oxford, Cambridge, and Dublin, in a nation in which the law of primogeniture exists, where wealth is entailed in families, and where the colleges themselves are richly endowed, may be impracticable or impolitic in a country not possessing such incentives. Education must, therefore, be suited to the country; and a long period must elapse before we can expect to have individuals as well educated as in those universities, although the mass of our community may be much more enlightened. We have no benefices, no fellowships with fixed stipends, to offer for those who may devote themselves to the profound study of certain subjects. In England and Ireland, it is by no means uncommon for a student to remain at college until he is twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, in the acquisition of his preliminary education, or of those branches that are made to precede a professional course of study—the whole period of his academic residence being consumed in the study of these departments. In this country, such a course would be as unadvisable as it is generally impracticable. The equal division of property precludes any extensive accumulation of wealth in families. The youth are compelled to launch early into life: the more useful subjects of study have to be selected, and the remainder are postponed as luxuries, to be acquired should opportunity admit of indulgence.

In no country are the colleges or higher schools so numerous, in proportion to the population, as in the United States.

In France there are three universities; in Italy, eight; in Great Britain, eight; in Germany, twenty-two; and in Russia, seven: whilst in the United States, we have thirteen institutions bearing the title of universities, and thirty-three that of colleges; making in all forty-six higher schools capable of conferring degrees: yet a very wrong inference would be drawn, were we to affirm that the education of a nation is always in a direct ratio with the number of its higher schools. Such would be the fact, did these institutions assume an elevated standard in the distribution of their highest honours, and were the condition of the intermediate schools such that the youth could be sent to the university so prepared as to be able to cultivate his studies there to the greatest advantage. Unfortunately, in many parts of the United States the condition of the intermediate schools and academics has been grievously neglected; and the authorities of the universities have been compelled to lower their standard, and to admit students totally unprepared for more advanced studies. In this way many of the higher schools have degenerated into mere gymnasia, or ordinary academies. This circumstance, with the multiplication of institutions capable of conferring degrees, has been attended with the additional evil, that, in some, the highest honours have been, and are conferred for acquirements, which would scarcely enable the possessors to enter the lowest classes in others.

It seems, indeed, that the real or fancied insufficiency of most of our existing institutions, gave occasion to the proposition for establishing a university in New-York, and to the Convention, a review of whose proceedings will enable us to offer some practical considerations and reflections, deduced from some experience and meditation on this momentous subject. "Much as our country," observes the Rev. Dr. Mathews, in his opening address in behalf of the committee of the university, "owes to her excellent colleges, the sentiment seems to be general, that the time has arrived when she calls for something more; when she requires institutions which shall give increased maturity to her literature, and also an enlarged diffusion to the blessings of education, and which she may present to the world as maintaining an honourable competition with the universities of Europe." p. 14.

The establishment of a university in the city of New-York having been determined upon, and "an amount of means" pledged to the object, which would place the institution at its commencement on a liberal footing, its friends, "believing it to be desirable, and that it would prove highly gratifying to all who feel an interest in the important subject of education, that a meeting should be convened of literary and scientific men of our country, to confer on the general interests of letters and liberal education," appointed a committee, with powers to invite, as far as practicable, the attendance of such individuals in behalf of the university. Accordingly, on the 20th of October last, a number of literary and scientific gentlemen assembled from various parts of the United States, when President Bates, of Middlebury College, Vermont, was appointed president of the convention; and the Honourable Albert Gallatin, and Walter Bowne, Esq. Mayor of the City, were named vice presidents. The convention sat daily until the 23d inclusive, when it adjourned sine die; but not without having provided for the perpetuation of its species at a future period.

In an assemblage so constituted, it was not to be expected that, excepting the notoriety occasioned by it, any great advantage could accrue to the university or to the public from its deliberations; the most discordant sentiments on almost all points of discipline and instruction;—the views of the experienced and inexperienced—the experientia vera, and the experientia falsa—of the contemplative and the visionary, were to be anticipated; but we must confess, that humble as were our expectations from the results of its labours, the published record of its proceedings proves that we had pitched them too high. The committee appear to us to have had no definite object—no system—in bringing many of the subjects before the convention; every discussion is arrested, without our being able to decide what was the conclusion at which the meeting arrived: and

"Like a man to double business bound, They stand in pause where they shall first begin, And both neglect."

Of these debates the "Journal" is, doubtless, a faithful record, so far as regards their succession; the brevity, however, of the minutes, published by the secretary, renders the work very unsatisfactory; and scarcely elevates it above the character of a log-book, if we make exception of one or two excellent addresses—such as that of Mr. Gallatin—which are reported at length; and of some (generally indifferent) communications transmitted by their authors.

The first topic presented for the consideration of the convention, was:—"As to the universities of Europe; and how far the systems pursued in them may be desirable for similar institutions in this country." On this subject, Dr. Lieber read a communication of interest in relation to the organization, courses of study and discipline of the German universities, which was referred to the committee of arrangements. Mr. Woolsey, of New-York, gave an account of the French colleges; their system of instruction and discipline; a few desultory observations are next made by Mr. W. C. Woodbridge. Mr. Hasler flies off at a tangent, and offers "a few remarks on the appointment of professors," and is followed by Professor Silliman on the same subject. Mr. Sparks presents a few observations and alludes to the organization of Harvard College. President Bates gives the plan of choosing professors adopted at the college over which he is placed; and Mr. Keating, of Philadelphia, puts a finale to the proceedings of the day and to the question at the same time, by the expression of his views. After this, we hear no more of this "topic," and we are left in the dark whether the system or any part of the system of the universities of Europe be desirable for similar institutions in this country.

It is a mere truism to remark, that the success of an institution must be greatly dependent upon the character of its professors; hence, in all universities, the best mode of selecting them has been a point of earnest and careful inquiry. In some countries, they are appointed by the government; in others, the office is obtained au concours. The candidates being required to defend theses of their own composition, and the most successful receiving the office; whilst in others, the faculty have the power of supplying vacancies in their own body. In our own country, no uniformity exists on this point. Harvard, by the scheme of organization, is under the supervision and control of two separate boards, called the Corporation, and Board of Overseers. The former is composed of seven persons, of whom the president of the college is one, by virtue of his office; the other six being chosen from the community at large. The board of overseers consists of the governor and lieutenant-governor of the state, the members of the council and of the senate, the speaker of the house of representatives, and the president of the college ex-officio; and, also, of fifteen laymen and fifteen clergymen, who are elected, as vacancies occur, by the whole board. This board has a controlling power, which, however, is rarely exerted over the acts of the corporation.

The professors are all chosen, in the first instance, by the corporation, or rather nominated for the approval or rejection of the board of overseers: "but as a case has rarely, if ever been known, in which such a nomination has been rejected by the overseers, the election of all the professors and immediate officers, may be said to pertain in practice to the corporation alone. It is probable, however, that this is seldom done without consulting the members of the faculty into which a professor is to be chosen." Journal, p. 82.

In the generality of our institutions, the appointing power is vested in a board of trustees, who have no controlling body placed over them. In almost all, however, we find from the Journal of the Convention—that the faculty are consulted—"that" according to Dr. Bates, "experience had proved the wisdom of consulting the faculty on any contemplated appointment of a professor; and that, in fact, though not professedly, yet in effect, professors are appointed by the instructers or faculty,—and thus by securing their good will towards the new incumbent, amity was enforced." P. 83.

The great difficulty exists in becoming acquainted with the qualifications of the candidate, especially if he has not been previously engaged in teaching. There can be no better mode of testing the capacity of a teacher, than in the class room; but if this be not available, the recommendation of sufficient individuals, with us, has always to be taken; and in this, a certain degree of risk must necessarily be incurred. It is never, however, a matter of so much moment to procure a professor, who is pre-eminently informed upon the subject of his department, as one that is capable of communicating the knowledge he possesses, is systematic, has a mind that can enable him to improve and to take part as a member of the faculty in the management of the university, in which the greatest firmness, good sense, and ability are occasionally demanded. "A man," says the illustrious Jefferson, "is not qualified for a professor, knowing nothing but merely his own profession. He should be otherwise well educated as to the sciences generally; able to converse understandingly with the scientific men with whom he is associated, and to assist in the councils of the faculty on any subject of science in which they may have occasion to deliberate. Without this he will incur their contempt and bring disreputation on the institution."[^[1]]

Young professors are, on the above accounts, cæteris paribus, preferable to old. They have not had time to acquire any bad system; are energetic in the acquisition of information, and become attached to the occupation. In institutions where the faculty live within the same walls, it is, likewise, important that the disposition of the individual should be taken into the account, in order that every thing may go on harmoniously. A kind, conciliating deportment, will also gain the respect of the student, and tend materially to discipline.

The best system for the appointment of professors, perhaps, would be—that the faculty should nominate, and the trustees approve or reject. It is improbable, that they would ever be guided by any feelings which would be counter to the prosperity of the institution; whilst they would generally have better opportunities of becoming acquainted with the qualifications of individuals than the board of trustees. This course appears to us less objectionable than any other; and we are glad to find that it was suggested by Mr. Sparks, in the convention.—

"No good policy," he remarks, "would introduce an efficient member into a small body, where such a step would be likely to endanger the harmony of feeling and action. For this reason, it may be well worthy of consideration, whether, in the scheme of a new constitution, it is not better to provide for the nomination of a professor by the members of the faculty, with whom he is to be associated. Such a body would be as capable as any other, to say the least, of judging in regard to the requisite qualifications of a candidate, and much more capable of deciding whether his personal qualities, traits of character, and habits of thinking, would make him acceptable in their community. It seems evident, therefore, that something is lost and nothing gained by referring this nomination to another body of men, who have no interest in common with the party chiefly concerned. It is enough that the electing or sanctioning power dwells in a separate tribunal." P. 83.

Much diversity of opinion has prevailed on the subject of remuneration to professors. In some universities they are paid entirely by fees from the students. The objection urged against this, is, that the professor is too much dependent upon the student, and that this feeling may materially interfere with discipline. To those who consider that there ought to be no discipline in our universities—and strange as it may seem, such views were expressed in the convention—this plan of remuneration can be liable to no objection. Nor to institutions in which there are no resident pupils, like the one proposed in New-York, would the objection apply. On the contrary, the mode in which the professor receives his remuneration entirely from the students, the stimulus which is thus excited, and the feeling that his emoluments may be proportionate to his energy and success in conveying instruction, may have the most beneficial effect upon his exertions. Accordingly, we find the most meritorious application on the part of the professors in our great medical schools; and a degree of enthusiasm aroused, which might not be elicited were the mode of recompensing them other than it is.

On the other hand, it has been maintained, that the professor should be in no wise dependent upon the student; that he should receive no fees, but be paid by a fixed salary. The objection urged against this system is, that there is here no stimulus, and that as the professor feels his income altogether independent of his exertions, he will relax in his efforts, neglect his duties, become inattentive to his own improvement, and uncourteous in his behaviour to the pupil. This is plausible in theory, and doubtless, has occasionally been found to be the fact. It is not likely to occur, however, if the professor be held rigidly responsible, and if the tenure of his office be on good behaviour, instead of for life. It is to be calculated, likewise, that every professor is a gentleman, and that the honour of the situation is a part of the emolument. These should be a sufficient guarantee that his duties will be performed energetically, and that his behaviour will be courteous. Should this not be the case, he is unfit for his situation, and the trustees should have moral courage enough to remove him. Experience, too, has, we think, sufficiently proved, that the evils of fixed salaries, under the tenure dum bene se gesserit, are more imaginary than real: some of the very best institutions are conducted upon this system, in various parts of Europe and of this country. On the whole, perhaps, where the students reside within the precincts, a combination of a fixed salary, of a sufficient amount to enable the professor to be, to a certain extent, independent of the student, with the payment of a fee from the student for tuition, is the most politic and satisfactory mode of remuneration. In this manner, he receives a certain stimulus to exertion, whilst other objections to both exclusive systems are obviated. Experience, however, shows, that although the zeal and industry of a professor may occasion a slight fluctuation in the numbers that resort to his school, this influence is very limited in its action. It is the character of the study which attracts followers; and whilst one department will be crowded to excess, independently of the merits or demerits of the professor, others will be almost entirely neglected. This will occur in all institutions in which professional, or extremely advanced, or unusual studies are taught. Every student, whether he may be intended for one of the learned professions, or for any other pursuit, considers it absolutely necessary to attend certain academical departments;—those of ancient languages and mathematics for example;—whilst comparatively few can be expected to attend the professional chairs, or the higher branches of study, notwithstanding the subjects may be taught in the most attractive and sufficient manner. Unless the manners of a professor are strikingly obnoxious, but little effect will be produced in the numbers frequenting his school: and if they are so, it is a sufficient ground for removal.

In those universities in which the professors are remunerated by a fixed salary, this inequality of attendance is not felt; but it is a serious evil, where the emolument accrues wholly or in part in the form of tuition fees. The greatest inequality may prevail in the compensation; and those teachers who are engaged in the most abstruse departments, will necessarily be worse paid than those who are engaged in superintending the elementary branches. Suppose the department of mathematics to be divided into the elementary and transcendental: if each be remunerated by an equal fee from his students, the latter cannot expect to have an income of more than one-twentieth part of that of his colleague. This we know is a ground of much dissatisfaction in many institutions, and attempts have been made to obviate it. Meiners,[^[2]] a reflecting writer on the subject of universities, thinks it would be proper to correct this inequality by making a portion of the fees received common stock: but if we admit that the abilities and attention of the professors are equal, and that the same number of hours is employed in teaching the various branches, there seems to be no reason why the remuneration of one professor should be permitted to exceed that of his colleague. On this subject, some pertinent remarks were made by Dr. Lieber, in which he agrees, in many respects, with his countryman, Meiners.

"Now I ask," says he, "how much even Professor Gauss, le plus grand des mathematiciens, as La Grange called him, has realized from his lectures? Mathematics, at least the higher branches of them, never can be very popular; I mean, it is impossible that they should be generally studied, and it would be to consign a professor to absolute indigence, if government should leave professors of mathematics dependent on the honorarium paid by their students. I studied mathematics under the celebrated Pfaff at Halle, whom La Grange called un des premiers mathematiciens, and we were never more than twenty in his lecture room, of whom I fully believe not much more than half paid the honorarium, which was very small." P. 58.

And again,—

"Yet I believe, that generally speaking, it is better for professors and students to have fees paid for their lectures, for various reasons, although it would be unsafe to let professors be solely or chiefly depending upon them, for it would be unsafe to settle such annuities upon persons intended to live for science, or guarantee them, forever, an easy life. It has besides been found, that generally, students attend those lectures more carefully for which they pay. With the different branches of instruction, the principle upon which professorships are to be established, ought to vary. In a city, in which many students of medicine always will be assembled, it may be safe to let the professor greatly depend upon the fees of the students, whilst a professor of Hebrew ought to be provided for in such a way, that he may follow the difficult study of Oriental languages, without the direct care for his support, in case the number of students would be too small for this purpose, as it generally will prove." P. 65.

In most of our colleges, the president has some control over the course of education in the schools of the institution; and, consequently, over the professors. Such a plan is, however, impolitic. No control whatever ought to be exerted over the teacher. If qualified—and if not he is not fitted for his situation—he ought to be left to himself, and to follow that system which he conceives best adapted to develop the intellect of his pupils; at the same time he should be held rigidly responsible for his free agency. In the University of Virginia, as well as in other of the higher schools of the country, the professor is required to send in a weekly report of the number of lectures he has delivered; the daily examinations instituted; the length of time occupied in each; and this report of the mode in which his duties have been executed, is laid before the board of visitors at their next meeting. In this manner delinquencies can be detected, and the appropriate corrective be applied.

Occasionally, however, it may happen, that a professor may be indolent, and inaccurate in his reports; and it may be a question, whether it is not advantageous that the presiding officer should have authority to attest how often a professor really does meet his class, with the length of time expended, and the precise course of instruction adopted; and then to report to the trustees, but not to interfere himself in the rectification of abuses.

In the discussion of this subject in the Convention, Mr. Keating has committed a blunder, regarding the University of Virginia.

"He would like to see the president, in truth, the head of the university, occupying a distinguished station in the board of trustees, controlling all the faculties, superintending all the departments. It should be a situation such as an experienced and retiring statesman would be proud to fill. A good example had been set by the new University of Virginia." P. 86.

Now, the rector of that institution is merely a member of the board of visiters, chosen from out the body to preside over them, has no delegated authority, but meets the other visiters once a year, and presides over their deliberations, without, however, having a casting vote. The chairman of the faculty, chosen annually by the board of visiters, from amongst the professors, is the real president, and possesses the powers usually granted to the presidents of colleges. We are surprised, by the bye, to observe from the journal of the Convention, that the University of Virginia was entirely unrepresented there. It has now been established six years, and has been proceeding on a tide of successful experiment. It is the first effort that has been made in this country to cast off the trammels that have fettered practical instruction; to suffer each to take the bent of his own inclination in the selection of his studies, requiring for the attainment of its highest honours, qualifications only, and rejecting time altogether. Although the first attempt in this country on a large scale, the plan has been long adopted in other countries, particularly in Germany, which has been so justly celebrated for the novelty and excellence of its academic instruction; yet in no country can such an experiment be regarded with more interest than in the United States, where, for the reasons already assigned, the youth are compelled to attain, if practicable, the strictly useful, and to strive for their own support at a very early period of their career.

In the debates of the Convention, we find few allusions to that institution, and wherever it is referred to, the most lamentable ignorance of its economy is exhibited, and the greatest errors are committed. In it there is an entire separation of the legislative from the executive power; the board of visiters exercising the former—the board of professors, or faculty, the latter. This has its advantages and inconveniences. In many of our colleges for resident students, the president is, ex officio, presiding officer of the board of visiters, so that he forms a part of the two powers. Where the president is at the same time a professor this is apt to create heart burnings and jealousies, and gives him a decided, and often unfair preponderance in any dispute with his brother professors, in which the decision of the board of trustees may be requested; whilst, if the executive power have no voice in the deliberations of the superior board; and especially if the visiters reside at a distance from the institution, laws are apt to be enacted, which create great dissatisfaction and confusion, which have not been suggested by experience, and which, consequently, are either wholly inoperative, unfeasible, or impolitic. To obviate these evils the executive might have a delegate at the meetings of the legislative body, who, even if he had no vote, might be expected to take part in those deliberations which regarded the rules and regulations of the university, or the interests of the body to which he belonged; but in the discussion of other topics, his attendance might be dispensed with. In this manner, the legislative body would have the advantage of the voice of experience, and the faculty, by choosing their own delegate, could always be represented, should discussions arise between them and their presiding officer. Nothing is more certain, than that laws which seem easy of execution, and admirably conceived, are often found, in practice, to be wholly unavailable and injudicious. But the mischief does not end here. The respect of the student is any thing but increased towards the board that conceives, or the executive which attempts to fulfil such regulations. By the enactments lying before us, of almost all the well regulated institutions of this country, we find, that the board of professors are requested by the trustees to suggest to them such laws as experience may indicate; this is wise; the faculty are unquestionably the best judges, and no non-resident can possibly have the necessary experience.

Well adapted rules are the best safeguards for the success of any university, where the students reside within the precincts especially. They should be simple, yet not trivial; efficient, yet not unnecessarily rigorous, and should be drawn up, if not perspicuously, at least intelligibly. What shall we say to such cases as the following, which we copy from the published laws of one of the oldest colleges of this Union?

"No person, other than a student or other member of the college, shall be admitted as a boarder at the college table. No liquors shall be furnished or used at table, except beer, cider, toddy, or spirits and water!"

"No student shall be permitted to lodge or board, or without permission from the president or a professor, go into a tavern."

And again,—

"If offences be committed in which there are many actors or abettors, the faculty may select such of the offenders for punishment as may be deemed necessary to maintain the authority of the laws, and to preserve good order in the college, &c."

It is always found more easy to make laws, than to have them well executed. This is, in fact, usually the great difficulty, and formed, very properly, a subject of deliberation in the Convention. No light was, however, shed upon it, and the most visionary sentiments were elicited, denying the necessity of any discipline whatever in the higher schools. Whenever a number of youths are thrown together within a small compass, other rules become necessary besides those of the land. The esprit du corps, the influence of bad example afforded by a few, lead to the commission of offences that demand interposition; accordingly, in every intelligent and sound thinking community, certain transgressions, such as gambling, drinking, disorderly behaviour, habits of expense and dissoluteness, and incorrigible idleness, have been esteemed to merit serious collegiate reprehension.

Of the different kinds of government adopted in universities, we shall mention those only which prevail in the United States. The authority is generally vested in a president and faculty, the former having the power of inflicting minor punishments; the major punishments requiring the sanction of the latter. With the president the power is vested of deciding whether any case is deserving the one or the other. An objection has been urged against this system, that if the president be of a timid, vacillating disposition, he may keep every case from the faculty, and in this there is some truth; he is, however, responsible to the trustees, and hence it can rarely happen that he will exercise ill-judged lenity; this danger too, is greatly abated, provided the faculty be allowed collateral jurisdiction, and can act on cases of which he has not taken cognizance. If he has already acted, it would be obviously improper that any additional jurisdiction should be exercised—in accordance with the common law maxim—that no man can be put in jeopardy twice for the same offence.

If such discretionary power be not granted to the presiding officer, he will have to carry every case before the faculty; and thus his office will be merely nominal, for it would be utterly impracticable to define, with any accuracy, the cases that must fall under his dominion, distinctly from those to be assigned for the animadversion of the faculty.

It has been fancifully presumed, that the students themselves might be induced to form a part of the government—to constitute a court for the trial of minor offences, and to inflict punishment on a delinquent colleague; and, further, that their co-operation might react beneficially in the prevention of transgressions. The scheme has a republican appearance, but experience has sufficiently shown that it is impracticable. In the first printed copy of the enactments of the University of Virginia, (1825) we find the following.

"The major punishments of expulsion from the university, temporary suspension of attendance and presence there, or interdiction of residence or appearance within its precincts, shall be decreed by the professors themselves. Minor cases may be referred to a board of six censors, to be named by the faculty, from among the most discreet of the students, whose duty it shall be, sitting as a board, to inquire into the facts, propose the minor punishment which they think proportioned to the offence, and to make report thereof to the professors for their approbation or their commutation of the penalty, if it be beyond the grade of the offence. These censors shall hold their offices until the end of the session of their appointment, if not sooner revoked by the faculty." But in the next edition of the enactments, (1827) we find that no such law exists; hence we conclude, that the experiment had met with the usual unsuccessful issue. So long, indeed, as the esprit du corps or Burschenschaft prevails amongst students, which inculcates, that it is a stigma of the deepest hue to give testimony against a fellow-student, it is vain for us to expect any co-operation in the discipline of the institution from them. This "loose principle in the ethics of schoolboy combinations," as it has been termed by Mr. Jefferson, has indeed led to numerous and serious evils. It has been a great cause of the combinations formed in resistance of the lawful authorities, of intemperate addresses at the instigation of some unworthy member, and to repeated scenes of commotion and violence, and cannot be too soon laid aside. Sooner or later, it must yield to the improved condition of public feeling; and we cannot but regret to see the slightest and most indirect sanction given to it in the regulations of a university, which has made so many useful innovations in systems of instruction and discipline, that have been perpetuated by the prejudices of ages. The law to which we allude is the following:—"When testimony is required from a student, it shall be voluntary and not on oath, and the obligation to give it, shall be left to his own sense of right."

No youth hesitates to depose in a court of justice touching an offence against the municipal laws of his country, committed by a brother student. The youth and the people at large, are, indeed, distinguished for their ready attention to the calls of justice. Yet it is esteemed the depth of dishonour to testify when called upon by the college authorities, against the grossest violator not only of collegiate but municipal law, as if it could be less honourable to give the same testimony before one tribunal than another; or the morality of the act differed in the two cases.

This erroneous principle, which leads to the separation of so many promising individuals from the universities, threatens their reputation and prosperity, injures the cause and saps the very foundation of education, prevails in some countries, and in some portions of this country more than in others. In some of the most respectable of our own colleges, it is made a duty to give evidence under pain of the highest punishments; and in some of those in which the esprit du corps has prevailed to the greatest extent, it has given occasion to the adoption, by the faculty, of the monstrous alternative of selecting persons on bare suspicion, or at random, and punishing them under the expectation that the real delinquent might exhibit himself. A law of this kind prevails in the college of William and Mary, in Virginia. "In any case of disorderly conduct within the college, in which students are concerned, every student in college at the time, whether he be a resident therein or not, shall be considered as a principal and treated accordingly, unless he can show his innocence." It has also been proposed to get over this difficulty, with regard to testimony, by establishing a law court at the university, of which the law professor, for example, might be judge, and the jury be constituted of the inhabitants of the vicinity. This tribunal to possess the ordinary jurisdiction of courts of law, and of course, empowered to require testimony on oath from the student. Such might be a valuable adjunct to the powers ordinarily possessed by the faculties of our colleges.

The majority of the convention, seem manifestly to have been in favour of what they term Parental Discipline; but we are left to conjecture how much this embraces. If it be meant, in the language of Meiners, that "the academical authorities should bear to the students the relation of fathers as well as of judges; that they should not only punish, but entreat, admonish, advise, warn, and reprove"—no one will dispute the propriety of the system. It is, in fact, that which is introduced into our best institutions.

"The governors and instructors," say the laws of Harvard, "earnestly desire that the students may be influenced to good conduct and literary exertion, by higher motives than the fear of punishment; but when such motives fail, the faculty will have recourse to friendly caution and warning, fines, solemn admonition, and official notice of delinquency to parents or guardians; and where the nature and circumstances of the case require it, to suspension, dismission, rustication, or expulsion." But important as may be the reformation of an offender, and interesting as it is to see the wild and the thoughtless restored to the paths of rectitude, it is obvious, that the prime object of discipline is less such reformation than the advantage to others; and if in the collegiate, as in the corporeal economy, an offending member should endanger the safety of the whole fabric, it will have to be removed. A man is not sent to the penitentiary merely because he has stolen a sheep, but in order that sheep may not be stolen. The term parental discipline, in fact, is most undefined; it includes the most discrepant and the most heterogeneous modes of correction. Solitary confinement, sitting in a corner, whipping, are used according to circumstances; but we presume none of these punishments were contemplated by the Convention.

Most of the speakers seem to have been of opinion, that the parental system of intercourse, such as a wise father would maintain with his son, is best adapted for instruction and discipline in our colleges. Such a course would be manifestly impracticable where the number of students is considerable, and is of doubtful policy in all. The professor should, indeed, be kind, courteous, and affable; conciliating and ready to afford every information; but we doubt whether either discipline or instruction is aided by constant and familiar intercourse. There should be a certain distance maintained between pupil and preceptor; but no presumption, no affected dignity on the part of the latter; and under such circumstances every thing will be better effected than where the communication is closer and less unrestrained.

But the great dread entertained by these gentlemen, has been towards the infliction of disgrace; yet no punishment, whatever, can be awarded, without more or less of this. It is a disgrace to an offender to be reprimanded; to be dismissed from the schoolroom for a time; to be sent away from the institution; the good, however, of the rest requires it, and it is pseudo-philanthropy to repine. One point canvassed in the Convention and connected with this subject, requires notice. "Whether a student who has been dismissed from one institution ought to be refused admittance into any other? There is a general understanding amongst the colleges of the United States, that no student thus separated from one, shall be received into another, unless he be so far restored to favour as to be able to obtain from his college what is termed a regular dismissal." (Journal, p. 145.) Unconditional refusal to admit, appears to us to be a rule which can allow of but little justification. Meiners observes, that "those who come from other universities ought to bring certificates that they have not been expelled. If merely dismissed, they may be admitted,—but then they should be narrowly watched." It would, however, be barbarous to exclude even an expelled student, provided he could produce satisfactory evidence of his return to rectitude. It is a good practice to make the matriculation, under such circumstances, difficult; and to require a sufficient period of probation before he is permitted to join the university. The University of Virginia, has no comity in this respect with the other institutions of the Union. It has followed the only rational plan; ordaining—"that no person who has been a student at any other incorporated seminary, shall be received at that university, but on producing a certificate from such seminary, or other satisfactory evidence, to the faculty, with respect to his general good conduct." A no less important regulation would be, to exclude those of notoriously idle or dissolute habits, and yet who had never been at any incorporated seminary.

But Mr. Hasler is of opinion, and in this he is joined by Dr. Wolf, and, so far as we can judge, from the published speech of Mr. Woodbridge, by that gentleman also,—that little or no control is necessary over the students who resort to universities. The paper from the pen of that gentleman, in the Journal before us, bears the stamp of visionary enthusiasm; exhibits, we think, clearly a total deficiency of experience, and is

"A fine sample, on the whole, Of rhetoric, which the learn'd call rigmarole."

"Against this liberal discipline," he remarks, "the example of the Virginia university has very erroneously been alleged by way of disapprobation, or as a failure: it affords no proof of that kind. The erroneous system of collegiate life has been preserved in it. The locality is insulated, and the constant sameness of the company, of fellow-students only, produces the bad results of tedious and too close influence between the student, even with the professors. Besides that, the architect of that building, the well informed, philosophical, and amiable Jefferson, died before it was finished; for the construction of such an institution is not finished, with the walls that enclose its lecture rooms, or the dwellings; the organization can only be the result of several years actual activity of the institution, particularly when the plan is novel in the place where it is established. To this is still to be added, that the professors appointed there, were all accustomed to the collegiate life, and therefore not likely of such dispositions as to be proper secundents to the liberal plans of the original founder." P. 265.

Without pointing out the numerous minor errors that pervade this paragraph, we may remark, that Mr. Hasler is manifestly uninformed regarding the condition of the institution to which he alludes. We have every reason for believing, that the discipline of the University of Virginia, is equal to that which prevails in any institution of the Union. The evils of bad discipline, occasioned by the want of sufficient and efficient rules, were speedily experienced there. The objections felt by the board of visiters to over-legislation, led to an opposite error; whilst undue dependence was placed upon the effect that might be produced from the participation of the students themselves in the judicial power. Accordingly, we find, from the supplement to the printed enactments, that it became necessary to tighten the reins of authority during the very first session.

It has often been remarked, that owing to the feeble domestic discipline which ordinarily prevails in the United States, the youth, particularly of the southern parts of the Union, require a different mode of management from those of other countries. There does not appear to be the slightest foundation for this vulgar error. Young men, as well as adults, are much alike over the whole civilized globe; and if it be found that mild measures are ineffectual, recourse must be had to more severe every where: and in all cases, the laws, where needed, must be executed temperately, unhesitatingly, and firmly.

It has been said, that certain offences are esteemed as such in all institutions: of these, perhaps the most fatal are gambling and drinking. Both exert their baneful effects upon the morals, habits, and application of the student; and it is difficult to say, which is the most to be deprecated. The general evils produced upon society by their indulgence, it is as unnecessary as it would be out of place, to depict. It is only as regards their influence on college life and discipline, that they concern us at present.

Habits of gambling should lead to immediate separation of the offender; they are rarely abandoned; whilst they are as pernicious to the student himself, as they are likely to be by evil example to others. Gaming is one of the offences that require a collegiate, in addition to the municipal law. Under this head are included all those, which, from their seductive character, are apt to engross the time of the student, or to lead to parental loss and inconvenience, as cards, dice, billiards, &c.

Serious, however, as we must necessarily esteem the offence of gambling, it is, if possible, less so than habits of drinking. The latter is not an evil which entails with it so much pecuniary difficulty, but it is apt to lead to the former, and to every other loathsome vice. Few professed drunkards are reclaimed; and even should they be, the valuable time lost in youth in these indulgences, renders the youth subsequently unfit for the reception of moral and intellectual culture; hence he remains in after life debased and vicious, exhibiting merely the wreck of his previous intellect. Both these weighty offences may, in some measure, be checked by wisely devised sumptuary laws. In all well regulated universities, such endeavours have been directed to restrain the expenditure of the students.

The Credit Gesetre of Göttingen occupy a space of twenty-two octavo pages in the work of Meiners. At Harvard, (and we take this in our references to institutions on the old system of instruction, as being one of the longest established of those that receive resident students,) every student who belongs to places more than one hundred miles distant from Cambridge, is compelled to have a patron, appointed by the corporation, who has charge of all his funds, and disburses them under the regulations of the establishment. For this duty, he receives from the student six dollars a year as a compensation. In the University of Virginia, the proctor is the patron; and it is enacted, that "no student, resident within the precincts, shall matriculate, till he shall have deposited with the proctor all the money, checks, bills, drafts, and other available funds, which he shall have in his possession or under his control, in any manner intended to defray his expenses whilst a student of the university, or on his return from thence to his residence." On this the proctor is allowed a commission of 2 per cent. To ensure a more faithful compliance with this and other enactments on the subject, each student, about to leave the university, is required to sign a written declaration that he has made such deposit; or if not, to state the sum withheld, and the proctor is entitled to the same commission upon that sum as if it had been deposited. But if the student refuses to give such written declaration, the proctor is entitled to demand and receive from him so much as, with the commission on the money actually deposited, will make the sum of twelve dollars. Moreover, in all cases in which the student fails to make such written declaration, or in which it may appear that he has not deposited the whole of his funds with the proctor, that officer is required to report the fact to the chairman of the faculty, in order that it may be communicated to the parent or guardian of the student, be laid before the faculty and visiters, and otherwise properly animadverted upon.

The contraction of debts by students has, also, been made liable to the severest collegiate penalties; but, notwithstanding, the offence is always committed to a greater or less extent. The tradesman will give credit, and the student escape detection. The last and best resource is in the public spirit of the parent or guardian, who ought, unhesitatingly and firmly, to refuse to discharge any debt of an unauthorized nature, which his son or ward may have contracted, and especially those of the tavern-keeper or confectioner. The censures which he may incur from the exercise of his public spirit, can proceed only from the interested and sordid; whilst he will receive the applause of all those, whose favourable opinion it is desirable to possess. He will, moreover, have the gratifying conviction, that, by such a course, he is contributing to the annihilation of a system which is the cause of much public and domestic mischief.

The legislature of Massachusetts, to aid in the prevention of expense and dissoluteness, have patriotically enacted "That no inn-holder, tavern-keeper, retailer, confectioner, or keeper of any shop or boarding-house, for the sale of drink or food, or any livery-stable-keeper, shall give credit to any under-graduate, of either of the colleges within the commonwealth, without the consent of such officer or officers of the said colleges, respectively, as may be authorized to act in such cases, by the government of the same, or in violation of such rules and regulations as shall be, from time to time, established by the authority of said colleges respectively."

The example might be advantageously followed in other states. The objection, that, in a free country, every one ought to be protected in the exercise of his avocation, provided it be honest, is nugatory. They who are receiving their education at our universities, are to form the future strength,—and, in many cases, the pride and ornament of the state; and the pecuniary detriment that might accrue to a few individuals by the enactment of such a law, must be reckoned as nothing, compared with the overwhelming evil which results where unlimited indulgence is permitted.

One of the most prevalent sources of expense is in the article of dress. They, whose pecuniary means will admit of ostentatious display, will frequently attempt to exceed others in this fancied evidence of superiority. This excites a spirit of emulation in such as are but ill able to afford it, and is the origin of much idle extravagance.

To rectify this evil, as well as to aid in the more ready detection of offences, a uniform style of dress has been adopted in many of the universities of this country, and of Europe.

In some, this consists merely of a gown thrown over the clothes: which latter may be as costly as the wearer chooses.

In others, as in the universities of Harvard and Virginia, cloth of the cheapest colour, and of a determinate quality, has been selected; and the uniform dress, made from this, has been directed to be worn, whenever the student is out of his room. The plan pursued at those colleges, is the most advantageous, both in a sumptuary and penal point of view: the fashion of the dress being such as to distinguish readily the student from others, and thus to admit of the discovery of transgressors.

As a general system, the adoption of a uniform is attended with the most beneficial results: although, in particular cases, it may clearly and necessarily add to the expenditure, where, for instance, the student purposes to remain at an institution for a single session only. He leaves home provided with his ordinary apparel, which he is compelled to abandon, on becoming a matriculate. The prescribed uniform must, of course, be laid aside, on his quitting college at the end of the collegiate year; and, by this time, his ordinary apparel has become too small for him. For this reason, a law requiring a uniform dress, is obviously more beneficial in such institutions as prescribe a particular course and term of study, than where no such regulations exist. In the laws of the University of Virginia, we find that boots are proscribed, and this may seem to be descending to unnecessary minutiæ; but they who are practically conversant with university discipline, are aware that this article of dress is objectionable on other grounds than expense. It is one of the contraband methods, often had recourse to, for the introduction of forbidden liquors. The boot is sent apparently to the shoemaker, containing an empty bottle, which returns, by the same conveyance, filled with the prohibited article.

On the important topic of practical instruction, the Convention appear to have entered at some length; but, seemingly, with the same discursive irregularity, that characterizes all their other deliberations. We observe no method,—no lucid exposition, and no evident conclusion. A great part of their discussion was connected with the question, "whether students should be confined to their classes, or allowed to graduate, when found prepared, on examination?" On this subject, again, we find the most discordant sentiments. The majority, perhaps, are in favour of what they term "classification," and adherence to "tried and well-known courses;" whilst others, from the same premises, have arrived at opposite conclusions:—the courses having been, in their opinion, tried and found inadequate.

The most conflicting sentiments have been indulged on this point for ages: whether, for example, it be advisable to permit a student to select his own studies, or to compel him to enter and proceed with his class: to pass a definite period at college, if desirous of attaining honours, and to offer himself for graduation only in company with his class.

Most of the older universities adhere to the system, which requires a fixed course to be followed, and for a certain time. Many of the more modern, on the other hand, permit a free choice; and some allow the student to become a candidate for graduation, whenever he feels himself competent to offer.

In the United States, with but one or two exceptions, we believe, the antiquated system, with more or less modification, is adopted; and, in most, the distinctions into freshman and sophomore, junior and senior classes, prevail: the sciences only becoming predominant objects of the student's attention in the two last. The course of study in each of these continues for a year, and is the same for every student, whatever may be his capacity or tastes. To be received into any of those upon the old system, it is made indispensable, that he should be acquainted, to a certain extent, with the Greek and Latin languages.

"No boy," says Mr. Gallatin, in an address characterized by the same comprehensive and enlightened views, which we mark in every thing emanating from that distinguished individual—"who has not previously devoted a number of years to the study of the dead languages; no boy, who, from defective memory, or want of aptitude for that particular branch, may be deficient in that respect, can be admitted into any of our colleges. And those seminaries do alone afford the means of acquiring any other branch of knowledge. Whatever may be his inclination or destination, he must, if admitted, apply one-half of his time to the further study of those languages. It is self-evident, that the avenue to every branch of knowledge is actually foreclosed by the present system, against the greater part of mankind." Journal. P. 175.

Mr. Gallatin does not seem to have been aware that there is one university in the Union to which his strictures do not apply—the University of Virginia. In it the student, except in the schools of ancient languages, mathematics, and natural philosophy, is subjected to no preliminary examination; and, moreover, he is required to pass through no definite course or term of study; to attend no particular classes, but is left free to select his own studies. When he has once embraced them, however, he is not permitted to relinquish them, unless by request of his parent or guardian, and by the permission of the faculty; and whenever he esteems himself sufficiently informed on the subject taught in any one of his schools, he is permitted to become a candidate for graduation in it. This system, which, so far as it goes, will bear the test of rigid and philosophical examination more than any other, prevails more or less in the German universities, and has been adopted, we believe, in the new London University.

Professor Vethake of Princeton, New-Jersey—a communication from whom was read to the convention, and which exhibits sound practical sense, and ingenious and discriminating reflection—has exhibited the prevalent inaccuracy of information, regarding the system adopted at the southern university, to which, from its novelty, we have so frequently alluded. "I see no objection," he remarks, "to render it obligatory on them (the students) to attend at the same period of time, a certain number of courses, unless specially exempted for sufficient reasons, as is now the arrangement in the University of Virginia." Journal, P. 30. No such arrangement exists in that institution. The professor has been guilty of an error loci; the plan is pursued at the old college of William and Mary, in Virginia.

In canvassing the comparative merits of the two systems, and, indeed, of every point of college discipline and education, it is necessary to take into consideration the age at which the students are received. In most of our colleges they are admitted when mere boys, and the course of instruction is necessarily made more elementary. In the University of Virginia, on the other hand, no student is received under the age of sixteen, and when, whatever may be the fact, it is to be presumed, that the more elementary portion of his education has been completed, and that he is now prepared for the prosecution of more advanced academic, or for professional, studies. To adopt a rigid rule, that students of this age should be compelled to pass a period of four or more years at college, before they can offer themselves for honours; or that they should be confined to classes, with boys, to whom a few years is a matter of comparatively little moment, would be manifestly unreasonable. This much is certain, that in this country few can spare the time in the mere attainment of academical or preliminary information. The truth is, our universities are, like those of Scotland now, and Oxford and Cambridge in former times—both schools and colleges. The under graduate course, in those venerable seats of learning, seems at first to have corresponded precisely, in point of age, with that of the modern schools. Many of the statutes, still in force at Oxford and Cambridge, respecting the discipline of students, sufficiently attest the boyhood of those for whom they were enacted. One of these directs corporal chastisement for those who neglect their lessons. Another, at Cambridge, prohibits the undergraduates from playing marbles on the steps of the senate house. In process of time, excellent schools arose, at which the ordinary preliminary education was obtained, and the period of resorting to college became thus postponed. The dislike to innovation, which augments in intensity according to the age of the establishment, prevented, however, any modification in the course of scholastic instruction, and thus it would seem was occasioned the length of time consumed there in preliminary education.[^[3]]

It will be manifest, that the objections to the system of classification are not so numerous or so weighty in those colleges into which mere boys are received. It has been repeatedly urged, that by such a system they are compelled to study subjects foreign to their inclinations and capacities; but, until the age of sixteen or seventeen, the mind cannot, perhaps, be better employed than in the acquirement of such knowledge as forms part of the course prescribed in the generality of our universities. The great objection is, that those of all ages are subjected to the same restrictions.

The opposite course, as it at present prevails at the University of Virginia, is also liable to animadversion; the less, however, as the students are not received under sixteen years of age. It will most generally happen, that neither the youth, nor his parent nor guardian, is sufficiently acquainted with the course he ought to adopt with the view of being well educated; and if the youth be left solely to the exercise of his own discretion, which is often a negative quantity, he will be apt to select those schools that require the least application, and are the most interesting, to the exclusion of more severe and elementary subjects. The best system is that which turns out the greatest number of well instructed individuals, or which holds out the greatest amount of incentives to regular study. This cannot be accomplished by any plan which leaves the student, or the parent or guardian—often less competent than the student—to be the sole judge of what should be the course of instruction in all cases. The University of Virginia, which admits this system to the full extent—in no wise controlling the choice of the student—affords us some elucidation of the comparative value attached to different subjects of university instruction, by the student, or by parents and guardians, and of the disadvantages of this unrestricted plan. From the report of the rector and visiters of that university for 1830, we find that there were attending the

We have selected those subjects only, which constitute the usual course of academic instruction; and which, we think, ought to constitute it. The school of chemistry we have omitted, because it was composed of both academic and professional students, with the ratio of which to each other we are unacquainted. The probability also is, that some of those attending the departments of natural and moral philosophy, were students of law or medicine. From this list we find, that whilst the schools of ancient languages, of mathematics, and of natural philosophy were well attended, that of moral philosophy—one of eminent importance in forming the youthful mind—was comparatively neglected. The two first departments, as taught in most of our colleges, are the subject of the first years' attention; the latter are esteemed more advanced studies, and, where free agency is allowed the pupil, he will generally prefer the study of matter, with the advantage of the beautiful and diversified elucidations afforded by the advanced state of physical science, to that of mind, with all its arid, but by no means sterile investigations.

We have said that, in the University of Virginia, the selection of studies by the student is free and uncontrolled. An indirect influence is, however, exerted by the graduation of the fees paid to the professors. If the student attends but one professor, he is required to pay $50; if two, $30 to each; if three or more, $25 to each. A similar effect is produced by the enactment which requires that the student shall enter three classes, unless his parent and guardian shall authorize him, in writing, to attend fewer. Such regulations are favourable only to diffusion of studies over three subjects; the evil remains—of permitting the student to employ his own unassisted judgment in the choice. Such a rule must, however, be generally inoperative. If the collegiate regulation be known, the student will take care to provide himself with the necessary authorization from his parent or guardian; and if not known, it would be hard that the rule should apply. But let us suppose that he arrives at the university without any such authorization, and desires to join the elementary departments of ancient languages and mathematics. When he discovers that he is required to attend three schools, he will necessarily select one that may afford the greatest attractions, and the attention to which may be esteemed recreation rather than study. In such a case, the law, independently of being productive of no clear advantage except that of adding to the emolument of a greater number of professors, has the evil of compelling an elementary student to adopt a more advanced subject of study, or, at all events, an additional study to the disadvantage of the main object for which he joined the university. Less objection would have existed, if the regulation had required the student to attend two schools under such circumstances. He might then devote himself exclusively to elementary studies; or, if more advanced, he could readily find a collateral subject, which would not distract his attention from the main department, and might form an agreeable and useful alternation.

The truth is, however, that the law is liable to all the objections which apply to the old collegiate regulations, which make time the only element of qualification for distinction. The board of visiters of that university should have gone a step further, and instead of stating the number of schools which a pupil should be compelled to attend, unless his parent or guardian wished otherwise, they should have recommended, not enforced, a particular system of study for those desirous of attaining high literary distinction, or of becoming well educated; still retaining the valuable feature, that they, whose opportunities, tastes, or capacities, do not admit of their following the recommendation, may choose their own subjects.

What this system ought to be, we will now inquire into. It will enter naturally into the consideration of the latter part of the question canvassed before the Convention—"ought students to be confined to their classes, or allowed to receive degrees when found prepared on examination?" The affirmative of the proposition, as regards graduation, seems to be the natural view; yet there are few institutions at which this course is permitted. If the pupil be constrained to follow a prescribed and unbending series of studies, as is the case in most of the universities of this country and of Europe, it would appear to result as naturally that the negative view should be adopted.

In the Convention, the most opposing sentiments were here again elicited; and, as on other topics, they seem to have arrived at no fixed conclusion; all that we are informed being, that "the discussion of the topic was discontinued."

As regards the requisites for graduation in the different colleges of the Union, they are as various as the colleges themselves. This circumstance has, indeed, given occasion to the little estimation in which the degrees are in general held. It often happens, in truth, that the degree of Bachelor of Arts is conferred at one institution, on such as would be utterly incapable of acquiring it at another; and, at the close of his college career,—which differs in length in different institutions,—every individual receives the first degree in the arts: the examinations instituted being a matter of form, and, too often, of farce. We cannot be surprised, then, that a degree, thus obtained, should be contemned; and that, even in legislative assemblies, members should be found to declare themselves totally unworthy of the honours thus conferred upon them. This is not the case in the universities of Europe. In the English universities, the Baccalaureate is made the test of severe devotion to particular studies; and, whatever objections may be made to the plan followed in those institutions, of requiring accurate classical and mathematical knowledge, to the exclusion of every thing else, the degree is, at all events, an evidence that the possessor is unusually well instructed in those matters. Hence, we find in that country the initials B. A. and M. A. proudly appended to the names of the Bachelor or Master, and received by all as emblems of literary distinction. How rarely do we see the title thus added in this country? This comes from the causes already alluded to;—the degree is too easily attained; and, when attained, is such an insufficient evidence of learning, that it is discarded; and the parchment and the seal and riband, and the pomp and ceremony of the day for the distribution of honours, which excited so much juvenile exultation, are, in after life, esteemed no criterion of literary distinction. We cannot, then, be surprised, that one of the topics which engaged the Convention, was, "whether the title of B. A. should be retained?"

To the title Bachelor of Arts, unmeaning as it derivatively is, we have but little objection, provided certain definite ideas are attached to it. In the University of Virginia, the term graduate seems to be considered more appropriate. We do not think it an improvement upon the ancient appellation:—

"Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well— Weigh them, it is as heavy."

But few appellatives, in their received acceptation, would be found to correspond with their derivative meaning. The French have their "Bachelors" and "Masters of Sciences," but these terms are not more significant; whilst "Doctor" too often means any thing rather than doctus—"Qui dit Docteur ne dit pas un homme docte, mais un homme qui devrait être docte."

Every well devised system of education should combine an attention to language; to the sciences relating to magnitude and numbers; and to those that embrace the phenomena of mind and of matter.

Little doubt, we think, can exist in the minds of the intelligent, that the ancient languages should form one element. Much has been said, and much will continue to be said, on both sides of this question, into which we do not propose to enter: admitting, however, that the Latin language, for example, is less necessary now than when it was the exclusive language of the learned, and that the modern languages have emerged from their then Patois condition, and risen in relative importance, a certain knowledge of that tongue, as well as of the Greek, ought still to form part of the education of every gentleman. The mind of youth cannot be better engaged, during the early period of their university career, than in becoming acquainted with the classic models of antiquity, and practised in the habits of discrimination which the study engenders. Whether it should be prosecuted to the extent inculcated at the English universities, and to the comparative exclusion of other subjects, is another question. In this country, at least, the course would be injudicious and unfeasible, and has been canvassed by Mr. Gallatin with that gentleman's usual felicity of exposition. The illustrious founder of the University of Virginia appears, however, to have had different views on this subject from those we have expressed; and views which appear somewhat inconsistent with freedom of graduation in the separate schools.

In the earliest copy of the enactments, (1825,) we find it stated, amongst other matters relating to the attainment of honours, that "the diploma of each shall express the particular school or schools in which the candidate shall have been declared eminent, and shall be subscribed by the particular professors approving it. But no diploma shall be given to any one who has not passed such an examination in the Latin language as shall have proved him able to read the highest classics in that language with ease, thorough understanding, and just quantity. And if he be also a proficient in the Greek, let that too be stated in the diploma; the intention being that the reputation of the university shall not be committed but to those, who, to an eminence in some one or more of the sciences taught in it, add a proficiency in those languages which constitute the basis of a good education, and are indispensable to fill up the character of a 'well educated man.'"

Without dwelling on the unreasonableness of denying a diploma to one who has sufficient knowledge of mathematics, or chemistry, or of natural or moral philosophy, because he may not be thoroughly acquainted with Latin, we cannot avoid expressing our surprise that it should not have struck that philosophic individual, and his respectable colleagues, as being a total prohibition to graduation in certain departments. To be able "to read the highest classics in the Latin language with ease, thorough understanding, and just quantity," would, of itself, require as much time as the majority of our youths are capable of devoting to their collegiate instruction. Accordingly, we find, from the printed enactments, that the faculty judiciously suggested a modification of the rule relating to graduation, which was confirmed by the board of visiters. As it now stands, it merely requires that every candidate for graduation, in any of the schools, shall give the faculty satisfactory proof of his ability to write the English language correctly.

For a university degree, then, the subject of ancient languages should certainly be one element. This, we believe, is conceded in all colleges: at least, the only exception with which we are acquainted, is that of William and Mary, in Virginia.

As little doubt can there be, with regard to mathematics; which has, in some institutions, been esteemed the study of primary importance. The utility of a certain acquaintance with numbers and magnitude, is obvious in every department of life; but the greatest advantage from the study, is the precision and accuracy which it gives to the reasoning powers. When the student has attained this more elementary instruction, he is capable of undertaking, satisfactorily, the study of physics, and of becoming acquainted with the bodies that surround him, and the laws that govern them, as well as of entering upon the science of moral philosophy, and of comprehending the interesting subject of his own psychology.

These seem to be the only departments that need be acquired for a university degree. They embrace an acquaintance with the ancient classics, and the philosophy of language, as well as with mathematical, physical, and metaphysical facts and reasonings; and their acquisition enables the student to enter upon professional or political life with every advantage.

We have said nothing, it will be observed, of the modern languages. The valuable stores to be drawn from these, especially from the French and German, are, of themselves, attractions which render unnecessary collegiate restraint or recommendation. No one can now be esteemed well educated, who is thoroughly ignorant of them.

It has been remarked that the student is permitted, in the University of Virginia, to graduate in the separate schools; and that an evil exists there, in no course of study being advised. The consequence of this is, that few can be expected to remain, for any length of time, at that institution. We would by no means interfere with this graduation in the schools; but, in addition to this, there ought, we think, to be some goal of more elevated attainment, which might excite the attention and emulation of those whose opportunities admit of their being well educated. Let it bear the title of Bachelor of Arts, or Master of Arts, or graduate, and, if a definite meaning be affixed to it by the college authorities, it cannot fail to be as well understood as the unmeaning terms, sophomore, freshman, senior-wrangler, &c. and let the requisites for this higher honour be graduation in, or a sufficient knowledge of ancient languages, mathematics, natural philosophy, and chemistry and moral philosophy. If this plan were universally adopted, a certain degree of uniformity might exist amongst the different colleges: the degree would be received as the test of literary merit, and the possessor be proud of appending the title to his name. At present, as Mr. Sparks has correctly observed, the "diplomas of this country, as they are now estimated in the United States, appear to be of little value."

The only other topic on which we shall pause, relates to the mode in which instruction should be conveyed, and to the examinations to be instituted, with the view of ascertaining comparative merit, and of exciting emulation. On this subject, as is well known, the English universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and that of Dublin, differ essentially from the Scotch and many others: the latter teaching, solely, by lectures delivered orally. The most successful plan is that which combines both lectures and examinations. It is but rarely, that a text book can be found to suit the views of the professor, and no student pays the same degree of attention to a written composition. Even in the departments of ancient languages and mathematics, where the combination of lectures with examinations would appear most difficult, a prælection, explaining the various points of the subsequent examination, may be, and often is, premised with striking effect. In the ordinary method of teaching the classics, little attention is paid, except to the vocabulary; and many a student has thumbed his Horace for the fourth or fifth time, without being aware of the import of the philological, geographical, historical, and other allusions, with which the inimitable productions of the satirist abound. The vocabulary is but the key, that unlocks these various treasures. In a well devised prælection, things can be thought as well as words. We do not, indeed, know any department of science or literature, in which a union of prælections and examinations may not be employed with advantage. There is, however, another and a more serious objection to confining a student, in most branches at least, to a text book:—the professor is not stimulated to keep pace with the rapidly improving condition of science. If indolent and devoid of enthusiasm, he confines the youth closely to the text,—takes no pains to advance him farther,—and the student leaves the institution with the most insufficient instruction on the subject. The text books which are used at this time, in some of our colleges, and have been so for the last fifty years, are melancholy evidences of the imperfect mode in which particular studies are taught there, and of the absence of all progress on the part of the teachers.

We believe the very best system of instruction, where it can be adopted, is:—to recapitulate the subject of the preceding lecture, and, after the lecture of the day, to examine the class thoroughly on the last lecture but one. In this manner, the facts and theories of a science are impressed three times, upon the memory of the pupil; and if, after this, he is unable to retain them, he must be pronounced incorrigible. This plan we conceive to be the superlative; and to this conclusion we are led, not from theory simply, but from practice.

The nature of certain subjects, and the shortness of time appropriated, in some institutions, to lecture, may, occasionally, preclude its fulfilment: the nearer it can be accomplished, the better. Under this plan, the text book becomes a matter of comparatively trifling moment,—as the student will, of course, be understood to come prepared for examination on the subject of the lecture, as delivered ex cathedrâ.

With regard to public examinations, we need not dwell on the question of their policy. All well-regulated universities in this country and Great Britain, at least, have a system of rewards, as well as of punishments; and this uniformity may be esteemed a fair criterion of the opinions of the wise and reflecting of those countries on this topic. However desirable it may be, that mankind should do their duty without fear or expectation, every day's experience testifies that the hope of reward, or the dread of punishment, powerfully influences their exertions, not only for temporal, but eternal purposes.

In the German universities, there are neither daily, nor semi-annual, nor annual examinations; and, accordingly, we are not much surprised to find them objected to by some who had received their education in that country. The difference, however, which prevails upon this point in the best colleges of different parts of the globe, ought to have suggested some slight qualification of the sweeping censures that were passed upon the system in the Convention. "The semi-annual examinations," says Dr. J. Leo Wolf, "as recommended by some of the gentlemen of the Convention, lower the student to the rank of a schoolboy, while, being a man, as he ought to be, they are useless, for he will know that it is for his own good, to be assiduous in his studies. Moreover, the result of his studies is proved at the time when he desires to graduate, and to be licensed for the practice of his profession. Then he must pass a strict rigid and public examination; and this I should warmly recommend. In Prussia, these examinations are particularly severe, but quite impartial and recorded." P. 251. So far as we can judge from the involved and almost unintelligible twaddle contained in the address of Mr. Woodbridge on the subject of discipline, we should conceive him opposed to these as well as to all other means, which would excite the emulation of the student; thus discarding, on faulty metaphysical speculation, one of the most powerful stimuli to all literary and honourable distinction; and which, if rightly directed, can never, in collegiate life, act otherwise than beneficially. Granting, then, that annual, or semi-annual public examinations are of excellent policy in all higher schools, it remains to inquire into the best mode of conducting them. The oral system is that received into most of our colleges. In it the students are necessarily interrogated on different subjects, so that it becomes a matter of difficulty, nay of impracticability, to determine, with any accuracy, their relative standing. Added to this, if the class be numerous, it is impossible to put a sufficient number of questions to each individual; and the bold and confident, will ever exhibit a manifest advantage over the timid and retiring. In every respect, the oral, seems to us to be inferior to the written examination, where either is practicable. In the departments of the languages—ancient and modern—an admixture of the two would always be requisite, for the purpose of determining the student's acquaintance with quantity or accent, etymology, syntax, &c.

The plan universally adopted into the higher schools of England, is that by written answers. The students of a class are all furnished with the same questions; and the answers to these are written in the examination room. All communication between the examinants is prevented; and no book allowed to be brought into the apartment. After the expiration of a certain time the answers are collected.

The English method has, so far as we know, been received into one of our universities only—the University of Virginia. It has now been practised there for five years; and, we have reason to believe, the results have been such, as to satisfy the faculty of its pre-eminence over the methods usually practised. The following is its arrangement as published in the Virginia Literary Museum.

"1. The chairman of the faculty shall appoint for the examination of each school, a committee consisting of the professor of that school, and of two other professors. 2. The professor shall prepare, in writing, a series of questions to be proposed to his class, at their examination, and to these questions he shall affix numerical values, according to the estimate he shall form of their relative difficulty, the highest number being 100. The list, thus prepared, shall be submitted to the committee for their approbation. In the schools of languages, subjects may also be selected for oral examination. 3. The times of examination for the several schools shall be appointed by the chairman. 4. At the hour appointed, the students of the class to be examined shall take their places in the lecture room, provided with pens, ink, and paper. The written questions shall then, for the first time, be presented to them, and they shall be required to give the answers in writing with their names subscribed. 5. A majority of the committee shall always be present during the examination; and they shall see that the students keep perfect silence, do not leave their seats, and have no communication with one another or with other persons. When, in the judgment of the committee, sufficient time has been allowed for preparing the answers, the examination shall be closed, and all the papers handed in. 6. The professor shall then carefully examine and compare all the answers, and shall prepare a report, in which he shall mark, numerically, the value which he attaches to each: the highest number for any answer being that which had been before fixed upon as the value of the corresponding question. For the oral examinations, the values shall be marked at the time by the professor, with the approbation of the committee, but the number attached to any exercise of this kind shall not exceed 20. 7. This report shall be submitted to the committee, and if approved by them, shall be laid before the faculty, together with all the papers connected with it, which are to be preserved in the archives of the university. 8. The students shall be arranged into three separate divisions, according to the merit of their examinations as determined by the following method. The numerical values attached to all the questions are to be added together, and also the values of all the answers given by each student. If this last number exceeds three-fourths of the first, the student shall be ranked in the first division; if it be less than three-fourths, and more than one-fourth, in the second; and if less than one-fourth, in the third."

This scheme combines the advantages of affording both the positive and relative standing of the pupil. And as those in the separate divisions are arranged alphabetically, it does not necessarily expose the lowest in the third division to the degradation and mortification, to which, however, they are often richly entitled.

The plan of examinations for honours and prizes, in the University of London, resembles the above essentially; differing from it, indeed, in few particulars. It comprises one regulation, however, which might be advantageously appended to the other. We copy it from the printed "Regulations"—Session, 1828-29.

"The paper containing the answers must not be signed with the student's own name, but with a mark or motto; and the name of the student using it, inclosed in a sealed envelope, inscribed with the mark or motto must be left with the professor, to be opened after the merit of the answers shall have been determined." This prevents the possibility of favouritism, in all classes, which are so large that the professor does not become acquainted with the autographs of his students. The examinants are there also placed, according to the merits of their answers, in classes, denominated the first, second, and third; provided the sum of their answers be equal to a certain amount; all below this point are not classed.

We have now touched upon the most important topics presented by the committee for the consideration of the Convention. Several others were propounded, but they seem to have fallen still-born from their authors. As regards the 11th, 12th, and 14th, "whether any religious service, and, if any, what may with propriety be connected with a university?"—"Whether any course of instruction on the evidences of Christianity will be admissible?"—And, "Is it proper to introduce the Bible as a classic in the institutions of a Christian country?" We shall gladly follow the example of prudence exhibited by the Convention, and pass them over. The affirmative view of the last topic, meets with an enthusiastic supporter in the author of one of the works, whose titles are placed at the head of this article.

One proposition only remains, on which, in conclusion, we may indulge a few remarks:—"The importance of adding a department of English language, in which the studies of rhetoric and English classics shall be minutely pursued." This subject, we regret to see, experienced the fate of others, more deserving of neglect, and was not discussed.

We have long felt impressed, that the organization of our colleges is defective in this respect. Into many of them the student is received, after having been employed in scraping together a few Greek and Latin words and phrases; yet lamentably ignorant of the literature, structure, and even of the commonest principles of the orthography of his own tongue. Such a chair ought to be established in all our universities, and a certain degree of proficiency in the subjects embraced by it, should be a preliminary to every collegiate attainment. It would be an instructive and delightful study to trace back, as far as possible, the language of Britain to its aboriginal condition, and to follow up the changes impressed upon it, by the Celtic, Gothic, Roman, Saxon, Belgic, Danish, and Norman invaders; the investigation being accompanied with elucidative references to the literature of the different periods. The poetry, romances, and the drama would constitute inquiries of abundant interest and information. To these might be added didactic and rhetorical exercises for improving the student in the practice of writing—not merely accurately, but elegantly and perspicuously.

Such a professorship has been wisely established in the University of London; and we trust the new University of New-York will follow the good example. If we may judge, indeed, from the ungrammatical and inelegant Journal of the Convention, an attention to this subject is as much needed there as elsewhere; and were the professorship in the hands of an accomplished individual, it could not fail to improve the literary taste and execution of the community.

[1] Memoir, Correspondence, &c. Vol. IV. P. 387.

[2] Ueber die verfassung und verwaltung deutscher universitaten. Göttingen, 1801-2.

[3] Quarterly Review, Vol. XXXVI. P. 229.

Art. II.—The Life and Times of His Late Majesty, George the Fourth: with Anecdotes of distinguished Persons of the last fifty years. By the Rev. George Croly, A. M. London: 1830.

C'est un métier que de faire un livre comme de faire une pendule—it is a trade to make a book just as much as to make a watch—is a remark which was never better exemplified, than by the manner in which the craftsmen of the book-making trade in London, have compressed the Life of His Late Most Sacred Majesty, within the two covers of a volume. That exalted personage may have descended to the tomb unwept and unhonoured, in reality, however numerous the tears shed upon his bier, or gorgeous the ceremonies attending his interment; but he certainly has not gone down to it unsung, as the above work is only one of several, if we are not much mistaken, in which his requiem has been chanted with becoming loyalty. We have seen none of its fellows, though the advertisement of them has met our eye. Judging, however, from the reputation of its author, there is not much literary boldness in pronouncing it the best which has appeared about its kingly subject.

Mr. Croly is well known as a candidate of considerable pretensions, as well for the honours of Parnassus, as for those which an elevated seat on the prosaic mount, whatever may be its name, can confer. But, in concocting this last production, it is beyond doubt, that the main object he had in view, was one of a more substantial kind than a mere increase of fame. "The Life, &c." is, in fact, a bookseller's job, executed, we allow, by a man of genius. There are evident marks about it of hasty and careless composition,—of a desire to make a book of a certain number of pages, with as little trouble and delay as possible. The style is often deficient in purity and correctness, and overloaded with glittering tropes and ornaments, not always in good taste; the arrangement wants consecutiveness and perspicuity; and attention is sometimes bestowed upon topics comparatively unimportant, to the detriment of such as are of more moment. But it is, on the whole, a work of undeniable talent, containing much powerful writing, richness and beauty of diction, graphic delineation of character, interesting information, and amusing anecdote. Some of the author's sentiments are obnoxious to censure, and we shall venture to disagree with him, occasionally, as we proceed.

It was on the 8th of September, 1761, that His Majesty, George the Third, espoused Sophia Charlotte, daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg Strelitz; and, on the twelfth of August, in the following year, she presented him with a son and heir, to his own great delight, and the universal joy of the British empire. Ineffable as is the contempt which is expressed at the present day, for the superstitious trust reposed in omens by the heathen ancients, yet nothing of any consequence occurs, without being attended by signs in which the Christian multitude discern either fortunate or disastrous predictions. It has thus been carefully recorded and handed down, that the birth of the royal infant happened on the anniversary of the Hanover accession, and that the same day was rendered trebly auspicious, by the arrival at London of wagons containing an immense quantity of treasure, the fruits of the capture of a Spanish galleon off Cape St. Vincent, by three English frigates. A few days after his appearance in this world, His Royal Highness was created Prince of Wales, by patent, and would have been completely crushed under the load of honours that devolved upon him, had their weight been of a kind to be physically felt; Duke of Cornwall, hereditary Steward of Scotland, Duke of Rothsay, Earl of Carrick, and Baron of Rothsay, were his other titles,—being those to which the eldest son of the British throne is born. There is no harm in this, perhaps, as things are constituted in England, but we have never been able to think of one of the titles to which the second son is heir, without feeling an inclination to smile;—the Duke of York is Bishop of Osnaburgh;—nothing more ridiculous than this, can be discovered even amid the nonsense that is inseparable from regal institutions;—born a bishop!

At the time of the Prince of Wales's birth, George the Third was at the height of popularity,—the reasons for which, Mr. Croly has detailed at some length. In depicting the character of this monarch, he certainly has not employed the pencil with which it was darkened, as our readers may recollect, by Mr. Coke of Norfolk, on a recent occasion, who thus brought upon his own head a torrent of abuse. It was shocking, was it said, to disturb the repose of one who had so long been slumbering in the tomb, in the same way as it had been pronounced monstrous to say aught in disparagement of His Majesty, when he had just been gathered to his forefathers; as if kings were like private individuals, the effects of whose acts either expire with themselves, or are of contracted influence. It is far, however, from our wish, to dispute the fidelity of Mr. Croly's portrait; and we are perfectly willing to believe, that "no European throne had been ascended for a hundred years before, by a sovereign more qualified by nature and circumstances, to win golden opinions from his people, than George the Third," though, we must be allowed to think, that circumstances did not qualify him to win "golden opinions" from us Americans. "Youth, striking appearance, a fondness not less for the gay and peaceful amusements of court life, than for those field sports, which make the popular indulgence of the English land-holder, a strong sense of the national value of scientific and literary pursuits, piety unquestionably sincere, and morals on which even satire never dared to throw a stain, were the claims of the king to the approbation of his people;" but all these claims were neutralized, by the appointment of Lord Bute, as his prime minister. The odium that resulted from this measure, was carefully fomented by the arts of demagogues, the most conspicuous of whom was Wilkes. It was ascribed to an unworthy passion entertained for the handsome nobleman by the princess dowager, and to arbitrary principles in the monarch; and, such was the effect produced upon the latter, by the opposition and virulence which he encountered, that he is said to have conceived the idea of abandoning England, and retiring to Hanover. At one time, his inclination to take this step was so great, that he communicated it to the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, who honestly told him, that, "though it might be easy to go to Hanover, it might be difficult to return to England."

In December, 1765, when not quite three years of age, the Prince of Wales received a deputation from the Society of Ancient Britons, on St. David's day, and, in answer to their address, said,—"he thanked them for this mark of duty to the king, and wished prosperity to the charity,"—an early development of that talent for public speaking, which he is said to have possessed! In the same year, he was invested with the order of the garter, along with the Earl of Albemarle, and the hereditary Prince of Brunswick.

When the Prince had attained an age at which it was deemed necessary for his education to commence, it was determined that it should be conducted on a private plan; and Lord Holdernesse, "a nobleman of considerable attainments, but chiefly recommended by dignity of manner and knowledge of the court," was appointed his governor, and Dr. Markham, subsequently archbishop of York, and Cyril Jackson, were named preceptor and sub-preceptor. This measure excited a violent outcry; it was said that the heir to the throne should receive a public education at one of the great schools; and this opinion Mr. Croly strenuously advocates. It did not, however, produce any effect, and the whole course of instruction which the Prince underwent was private, though the preceptorship was twice changed. The Duke of Montague, Hurd, Bishop of Litchfield, and the Rev. Mr. Arnold, formed the last preceptorial trio.

In January, 1781, when the Prince was but a little more than eighteen, he was declared of age, "on the old ground that the heir-apparent knows no minority;" and a separate establishment, on a small scale, having been assigned to him, he now became, in a measure, his own master. In 1783, when about to take his place in the legislature, arrangements were commenced for supplying him with an income, and at the instigation of the king, the parliament voted him an annual revenue of £50,000, besides an outfit of £100,000. The sum of £60,000 for the outfit had been originally proposed by the king, but it was increased in consequence of the demand of the cabinet, known by the name of the Coalition Cabinet, some of the members of which, especially Fox, insisted for a time upon making the grant £100,000 a year. This, however, the king resolutely refused to allow, "for the double reason of avoiding any unnecessary increase to the public burdens, and of discouraging those propensities which he probably conjectured in the Prince." He accordingly demanded "but" the sums we have mentioned. Can any one read the sentence just quoted from Mr. Croly, without a smile? The precious fruits of royalty!—they even reduce a man of sense to write what is ludicrous from its absurdity. It is, without doubt, an admirable method of avoiding any unnecessary increase of the public burdens, and discouraging the evil propensities of a young man, to deprive the people of five hundred thousand dollars at once, and half that sum every year, in order to bestow it upon the individual who has no other use for it than to gratify those propensities. But, we shall be told, the heir to a throne must support his dignity. In that phrase is comprised as unanswerable an argument against royal institutions, as can be desired. The people must be heavily burthened, to enable the person by whom they are to be governed, to indulge in all sorts of excesses, and thus disqualify himself for that duty, in order that he may support the dignity of his station! Thank Heaven we live in a land in which there is no such dignity to be supported,—where the time of the great officers of state is never occupied in wrangling about the extent of the facilities which shall be afforded the successor to the administration of affairs, of bringing disgrace upon himself, and the country,—where the people are infinitely better governed, at an infinitely less expense, both of money and honour!

"Now, fully," says Mr. Croly, "began his checkered career,"—which, properly interpreted, means, that now he fully plunged into that reckless course of profligacy and folly, which terminated only with his life, and which should render his name odious to all who are friends of decency and virtue. We were afraid when we saw the announcement of the work we are reviewing, that its author would allow himself to be blinded by the regal blaze which surrounded its subject, and would endeavour to palliate those violations by a king, of the most sacred ordinances of the religion of which he is a minister, which he would have branded with indelible infamy in a private individual. Our fears, unfortunately, have not proved groundless. "There are no faults that we discover with more proverbial rapidity, than the faults of others,—and none that generate a more vindictive spirit of virtue, and are softened down by fewer attempts at palliation, than the faults of princes in the grave. Yet, without justice, history is but a more solemn libel; and no justice can be done to the memory of any public personage, without considering the peculiar circumstances of his time." Such is the sophistry with which he enters upon the task of extenuation. The first part of the first period in the above extract, is certainly undeniable—"fit nescio quomodo," says Cicero, "ut magis in aliis cernamus si quid delinquitur, quam nobismet in ipsis;" but, though the second part may also be indisputable as a general position, it is not at all applicable to this case. The historian or biographer, who is discussing the character of a monarch long since "fixed in the tomb," will doubtless find it an easy matter to make

"His virtues fade, his vices bloom,"

should he be so inclined: no other considerations but those of conscience operate then to influence his pen. But the case is quite different when he is writing about a king scarcely yet cold in the grave, when a species of popular infatuation commands that grave to be strewn with flowers, when it is necessary, as it were, to sail with the stream or sink; and when the brother of the deceased monarch has just ascended the throne, and, for the sake of appearances, may deem himself called upon to consider every thing said concerning his predecessor as touching himself. How many motives combine here to warp the judgment and the conscience, and convert sober history into funeral panegyric! Thus, if Mr. Croly had undertaken the task of delineating the moral features of Richard the III., or of James the II.—we adduce James the II., because our author seems to regard Catholicity as so monstrous a crime that this prince would, we are sure, not be drawn by him in the most flattering colours—he would have found, to use his own words, that there are no faults which generate a more vindictive spirit of virtue, than those of princes in the grave; but in depicting George the IVth., he has proved the reverse of this to be the fact. It is amusing, although at the same time melancholy, to contrast the virtuous indignation with which he pours out his anathemas against those who committed the tremendous crime of advocating and effecting the emancipation of the Catholics, with the gentle terms in which he comments upon the wanderings of the Prince of Wales from the proper path, and the glosses with which he softens their obliquity. One might be induced to suppose that his creed holds religious liberality as the crime of deadly dye, and dissipation of the lowest kind as a vice merely venial in its character.

"Without justice," he continues "history is but a more solemn libel, and no justice can be done to the memory of any public personage, without considering the peculiar circumstances of his time." This remark is true with regard to those public personages whom he has so severely taken to task for their conduct respecting the Catholic question; had not his mind's eye been covered with a film, he would have perceived that the "peculiar circumstances of the time" fully warranted that change in the course pursued by Mr. Peel, the Duke of Wellington, and others, with reference to that important question, which has drawn from him such expressions of horror; but it is far from being equally admissible where he has applied it. That less tenderness should be extended towards the vices of princes than to those of subjects is, we think, undeniable, when the weightier (secular) reasons they have for keeping a strict control over their passions, are considered,—reasons which should completely counterbalance any greater temptations they may be obliged to undergo.

"A sovereign's great example forms a people; The public breast is noble or is vile, As he inspires it."

"The man whom Heaven appoints To govern others, should himself first learn To bend his passions to the sway of reason."

Surely these two considerations—the potent effect of his example, and the almost impossibility of governing others when not able to govern himself—without referring to that paramount one which operates for all men alike, ought to have been sufficient to counteract the tendency of "the peculiar circumstances of his time," to inflame the "propensities" of the Prince; or, at least, should be enough to prevent an extenuation on that ground, of his unrestrained indulgence of them, by the historian of his life. What those circumstances were, we will let Mr. Croly relate.

"The peace of 1782 threw open the continent; and it was scarcely proclaimed, when France was crowded with the English nobility. Versailles was the centre of all that was sumptuous in Europe. The graces of the young queen, then in the pride of youth and beauty; the pomp of the royal family and the noblesse; and the costliness of the fêtes and celebrations, for which France has been always famous, rendered the court the dictator of manners, morals, and politics, to all the higher ranks of the civilized world. But the Revolution was now hastening with the strides of a giant upon France: the torch was already waving over the chambers of this morbid and guilty luxury. The corrective was terrible: history has no more stinging retrospect than the contrast of that brilliant time with the days of shame and agony that followed—the untimely fate of beauty, birth, and heroism,—the more than serpent-brood that started up in the path which France once emulously covered with flowers for the step of her rulers,—the hideous suspense of the dungeon,—the heart-broken farewell to life and royalty upon the scaffold. But France was the grand corruptor; and its supremacy must in a few years have spread incurable disease through the moral frame of Europe.

"The English men of rank brought back with them its dissipation and its infidelity. The immediate circle of the English court was clear. The grave virtue of the king held the courtiers in awe; and the queen, with a pious wisdom, for which her name should long be held in honour, indignantly repulsed every attempt of female levity to approach her presence. But beyond this sacred circle, the influence of foreign association was felt through every class of society. The great body of the writers of England, the men of whom the indiscretions of the higher ranks stand most in awe, had become less the guardians than the seducers of the public mind. The 'Encyclopédie,' the code of rebellion and irreligion still more than of science, had enlisted the majority in open scorn of all that the heart should practise or the head revere; and the Parisian atheists scarcely exceeded the truth, when they boasted of erecting a temple that was to be frequented by worshippers of every tongue. A cosmopolite, infidel republic of letters was already lifting its front above the old sovereignties, gathering under its banners a race of mankind new to public struggle,—the whole secluded, yet jealous and vexed race of labourers in the intellectual field, and summoning them to devote their most unexhausted vigour and masculine ambition to the service of a sovereign, at whose right and left, like the urns of Homer's Jove, stood the golden founts of glory. London was becoming Paris in all but the name. There never was a period when the tone of our society was more polished, more animated, or more corrupt. Gaming, horse-racing, and still deeper deviations from the right rule of life, were looked upon as the natural embellishments of rank and fortune. Private theatricals, one of the most dexterous and assured expedients to extinguish, first the delicacy of woman, and then her virtue, were the favourite indulgence; and, by an outrage to English decorum, which completed the likeness to France, women were beginning to mingle in public life, try their influence in party, and entangle their feebleness in the absurdities and abominations of political intrigue. In the midst of this luxurious period the Prince of Wales commenced his public career. His rank alone would have secured him flatterers; but he had higher titles to homage. He was, then, — one of the handsomest men in Europe: his countenance open and manly; his figure tall, and strikingly proportioned; his address remarkable for easy elegance, and his whole air singularly noble. His contemporaries still describe him as the model of a man of fashion, and amusingly lament over the degeneracy of an age which no longer produces such men.

"But he possessed qualities which might have atoned for a less attractive exterior. He spoke the principal modern languages with sufficient skill; he was a tasteful musician; his acquaintance with English literature was, in early life, unusually accurate and extensive; Markham's discipline, and Jackson's scholarship, had given him a large portion of classical knowledge; and nature had given him the more important public talent of speaking with fluency, dignity, and vigour.

"Admiration was the right of such qualities, and we can feel no surprise if it were lavishly offered by both sexes. But it has been strongly asserted, that the temptations of flattery and pleasure were thrown in his way for other objects than those of the hour; that his wanderings were watched by the eyes of politicians; and that every step which plunged him deeper into pecuniary embarrassment was triumphed in, as separating him more widely from his natural connexions, and compelling him in his helplessness to throw himself into the arms of factions alike hostile to his character and his throne."

Our readers may compare the above portrait of his royal highness, with that which Mr. Jefferson draws of him in one of his letters.

In 1787, the Prince had involved himself in debt to such an amount, that it was found necessary to solicit Parliament, not only for a sum sufficient to liquidate his obligations, but also for an increase of his income, the salary first granted having proved quite inadequate for his royal propensities. The following account of his debts and expenditure was laid before the House of Commons, and furnishes a teeming commentary on the blessings of hereditary government. In considering this matter, one might be tempted to regard Parliament as a species of eleemosynary institution, for the relief of insolvent royalty.

Debts.

Expenditure from July 1783, to July 1786.

The debate upon the grant was of a highly animated character, and in the course of it the Prince was not spared. He was befriended by the opposition, with Fox at its head, having thrown himself into the arms of that party, who were endeavouring in every way to drive Pitt from his ministerial seat. But in this instance, as in most others, the latter succeeded in carrying his point; in consequence of which, £161,000 were issued out of the civil list to pay the Prince's debts, and £20,000 for the completion of Carlton House, but no augmentation of his income was allowed. "Hopeless of future appeal, stung by public rebuke, and committed before the empire in hostility to the court and the minister, the Prince was now thrown completely into Fox's hands."

Perhaps the two most interesting chapters in Mr. Croly's book, are those entitled "the Prince's friends," in which he has brought into review most of the principal characters of that period of intellectual giants, whose renown continues to shed increasing lustre around the political and literary horizon of England. The world is never tired of reading whatever has reference to those personages, and a book that professes to speak respecting them, may be said to possess a sure passport to public favour at the present day. Well may the old man now living in England, the prime of whose life was passed in that time, be allowed to be a "laudator temporis acti," without having it imputed to the fond weakness of senility. We shall make copious extracts from this portion of our author's work.

"England had never before seen such a phalanx armed against a minister. A crowd of men of the highest natural talents, of the most practised ability, and of the first public weight in birth, fortune, and popularity, were nightly arrayed against the administration, sustained by the solitary eloquence of the young Chancellor of the Exchequer.

"Yet Pitt was not careless of followers. He was more than once even charged with sedulously gathering round him a host of subaltern politicians, whom he might throw forward as skirmishers,—or sacrifices, which they generally were. Powis, describing the 'forces led by the right honourable gentleman on the treasury bench,' said, 'the first detachment may be called his body-guard, who shoot their little arrows against those who refuse allegiance to their chief.' This light infantry were of course, soon scattered when the main battle joined. But Pitt, a son of the aristocracy, was an aristocrat in all his nature, and he loved to see young men of family around him; others were chosen for their activity, if not for their force, and some, probably, from personal liking. In the later period of his career, his train was swelled by a more influential and promising race of political worshippers, among whom were Lord Mornington, since Marquess Wellesley; Ryder, since Lord Harrowby; and Wilberforce, still undignified by title, but possessing an influence, which, perhaps, he values more. The minister's chief agents in the house of commons, were Mr. Grenville (since Lord Grenville) and Dundas.

"Yet, among those men of birth or business, what rival could be found to the popular leaders on the opposite side of the house,—to Burke, Sheridan, Grey, Windham, or to Fox, that

"'Prince and chief of many throned powers, Who led the embattled seraphim to war.'"

Without adopting the bitter remark of the Duke de Montausier to Louis the Fourteenth, in speaking of Versailles:—'Vous avez beau faire, sire, vous n'en ferez jamais qu'un favori sans mérite,' it was impossible to deny their inferiority on all the great points of public impression. A debate in that day was one of the highest intellectual treats: there was always some new and vigorous feature in the display on both sides; some striking effort of imagination or masterly reasoning, or of that fine sophistry, in which, as was said of the vices of the French noblesse, half the evil was atoned by the elegance. The ministerialists sarcastically pronounced that, in every debate, Burke said something which no one else ever said; Sheridan said something that no one else ought to say, and Fox something that no one else would dare to say. But the world, fairer in its decision, did justice to their extraordinary powers; and found in the Asiatic amplitude and splendour of Burke; in Sheridan's alternate subtlety and strength, reminding it at one time of Attic dexterity, and another of the uncalculating boldness of barbarism; and in Fox's matchless English self-possession, unaffected vigour, and overflowing sensibility, a perpetual source of admiration.

"But it was in the intercourses of social life that the superiority of Opposition was most incontestable. Pitt's life was in the senate; his true place of existence was on the benches of that ministry, which he conducted with such unparalleled ability and success: he was, in the fullest sense of the phrase, a public man; and his indulgences in the few hours which he could spare from the business of office, were more like the necessary restoratives of a frame already shattered, than the easy gratifications of a man of society: and on this principle we can safely account for the common charge of Pitt's propensity to wine. He found it essential, to relieve a mind and body exhausted by the perpetual pressure of affairs: wine was his medicine: and it was drunk in total solitude, or with a few friends from whom the minister had no concealment. Over his wine the speeches for the night were often concerted; and when the dinner was done, the table council broke up only to finish the night in the house.

"But with Fox, all was the bright side of the picture. His extraordinary powers defied dissipation. No public man of England ever mingled so much personal pursuit of every thing in the form of indulgence with so much parliamentary activity. From the dinner he went to the debate, from the debate to the gaming-table, and returned to his bed by day-light, freighted with parliamentary applause, plundered of his last disposable guinea, and fevered with sleeplessness and agitation; to go through the same round within the next twenty-four hours. He kept no house; but he had the houses of all his party at his disposal, and that party were the most opulent and sumptuous of the nobility. Cato and Antony were not more unlike, than the public severity of Pitt, and the native and splendid dissoluteness of Fox.

"They were unlike in all things. Even in such slight peculiarities as their manner of walking into the house of commons, the contrast was visible. From the door Pitt's countenance was that of a man who felt that he was coming into his high place of business. 'He advanced up the floor with a quick firm step, with the head erect, and thrown back, looking to neither the right nor the left, nor favouring with a glance or a nod any of the individuals seated on either side, among whom many of the highest would have been gratified by such a mark of recognition.' Fox's entrance was lounging or stately, as it might happen, but always good-humoured; he had some pleasantry to exchange with every body, and until the moment when he rose to speak, continued gaily talking with his friends."

* * * * *

"Of all the great speakers of a day fertile in oratory, Sheridan had the most conspicuous natural gifts. His figure, at his first introduction into the house, was manly and striking; his countenance singularly expressive, when excited by debate; his eye large, black, and intellectual; and his voice one of the richest, most flexible, and most sonorous, that ever came from human lips. Pitt's was powerful, but monotonous; and its measured tone often wearied the ear. Fox's was all confusion in the commencement of his speech; and it required some tension of ear throughout to catch his words. Burke's was loud and bold, but unmusical; and his contempt for order in his sentences, and the abruptness of his grand and swelling conceptions, that seemed to roll through his mind like billows before a gale, often made the defects of his delivery more striking. But Sheridan, in manner, gesture, and voice, had every quality that could give effect to eloquence.

"Pitt and Fox were listened to with profound respect, and in silence, broken only by occasional cheers; but from the moment of Sheridan's rising, there was an expectation of pleasure, which to his last days was seldom disappointed. A low murmur of eagerness ran round the house; every word was watched for, and his first pleasantry set the whole assemblage in a roar. Sheridan was aware of this; and has been heard to say, 'that if a jester would never be an orator, yet no speaker could expect to be popular in a full house, without a jest; and that he always made the experiment, good or bad; as a laugh gave him the country gentlemen to a man.'

"In the house he was always formidable; and though Pitt's moral or physical courage never shrank from man, yet Sheridan was the antagonist with whom he evidently least desired to come into collision, and with whom the collision, when it did occur, was of the most fretful nature. Pitt's sarcasm on him as a theatrical manager, and Sheridan's severe, yet fully justified retort, are too well known to be now repeated; but there were a thousand instances of that 'keen encounter of their wits,' in which person was more involved than party."

* * * * *

"Burke was created for parliament. His mind was born with a determination to things of grandeur and difficulty.

"'Spumantemque dari, pecora inter inertia, votis Optat aprum, aut fulvum descendere monte leonem.'"

Nothing in the ordinary professions, nothing in the trials or triumphs of private life, could have satisfied the noble hunger and thirst of his spirit of exertion. This quality was so predominant, that to it a large proportion of his original failures, and of his unfitness for general public business, which chiefly belongs to detail, is to be traced through life. No Hercules could wear the irresistible weapons and the lion's skin with more natural supremacy; but none could make more miserable work with the distaff. Burke's magnitude of grasp, and towering conception, were so much a part of his nature, that he could never forego their exercise, however unsuited to the occasion. Let the object be as trivial as it might, his first instinct was to turn it into all shapes of lofty speculation, and try how far it could be moulded and magnified into the semblance of greatness. If he had no large national interest to summon him, he winged his tempest against a turnpike bill; or flung away upon the petty quarrels and obscure peculations of the underlings of office, colours and forms that might have emblazoned the fall of a dynasty."

* * * * *

"Erskine, like many other characters of peculiar liveliness, had a morbid sensibility to the circumstances of the moment, which sometimes strangely enfeebled his presence of mind; any appearance of neglect in his audience, a cough, a yawn, or a whisper, even among the mixed multitude of the courts, and strong as he was there, has been known to dishearten him visibly. This trait was so notorious, that a solicitor, whose only merit was a remarkably vacant face, was said to be often planted opposite to Erskine by the adverse party, to yawn when the advocate began.

"The cause of his first failure in the house, was not unlike this curious mode of disconcerting an orator. He had been brought forward to support the falling fortunes of Fox, then struggling under the weight of the 'coalition.' The 'India Bill' had heaped the king's almost open hostility on the accumulation of public wrath and grievance which the ministers had with such luckless industry been employed during the year in raising for their own ruin. Fox looked abroad for help; and Gordon, the member for Portsmouth, was displaced from his borough, and Erskine was brought into the house, with no slight triumph of his party, and perhaps some degree of anxiety on the opposite side. On the night of his first speech, Pitt, evidently intending to reply, sat with pen and paper in his hand, prepared to catch the arguments of this formidable adversary. He wrote a word or two; Erskine proceeded; but with every additional sentence Pitt's attention to the paper relaxed; his look became more careless; and he obviously began to think the orator less and less worthy of his attention. At length, while every eye in the house was fixed upon him, he, with a contemptuous smile, dashed the pen through the paper, and flung them on the floor. Erskine never recovered from this expression of disdain; his voice faltered, he struggled through the remainder of his speech, and sank into his seat dispirited and shorn of his fame.

"But a mind of the saliency and variety of Erskine's, must have distinguished itself wherever it was determined on distinction; and it is impossible to believe, that the master of the grave, deeply-reasoned, and glowing eloquence of this great pleader, should not have been able to bring his gifts with him from Westminster-hall to the higher altar of parliament. There were times when his efforts in the house reminded it of his finest effusions at the bar. But those were rare. He obviously felt that his place was not in the legislature; that no man can wisely hope for more than one kind of eminence; and except upon some party emergency, he seldom spoke, and probably never with much expectation of public effect. His later years lowered his name; by his retirement from active life, he lost the habits forced upon him by professional and public rank; and wandered through society, to the close of his days, a pleasant idler; still the gentleman and the man of easy wit, but leaving society to wonder what had become of the great orator, in what corner of the brain of this perpetual punster and story-teller, this man of careless conduct and rambling conversation, had shrunk the glorious faculty, that in better days flashed with such force and brightness; what cloud had absorbed the lightnings that had once alike penetrated and illumined the heart of the British nation."

The following investigation of the authorship of Junius will be read with interest.

"The trial of Hastings had brought Sir Philip Francis into public notice, and his strong Foxite principles introduced him to the prince's friends. His rise is still unexplained. From a clerk in the War-office, he had been suddenly exalted into a commissioner for regulating the affairs of India, and sent to Bengal with an appointment, estimated at ten thousand pounds a-year. On his return to England he joined Opposition, declared violent hostilities against Hastings, and gave his most zealous assistance to the prosecution; though the house of commons would not suffer him to be on the committee of impeachment. Francis was an able and effective speaker; with an occasional wildness of manner and eccentricity of expression, which, if they sometimes provoked a smile, often increased the interest of his statements.

"But the usual lot of those who have identified themselves with any one public subject, rapidly overtook him. His temperament, his talents, and his knowledge, were all Indian. With the impeachment he was politically born, with it he lived, and when it withered away, his adventitious and local celebrity perished along with it. He clung to Fox for a few years after; but while the great leader of opposition found all his skill necessary to retain his party in existence, he was not likely to solicit a partisan at once so difficult to keep in order and to employ. The close of his ambitious and disappointed life was spent in ranging along the skirts of both parties, joining neither, and speaking his mind with easy, and perhaps sincere, scorn of both; reprobating the Whigs, during their brief reign, for their neglect of fancied promises; and equally reprobating the ministry, for their blindness to fancied pretensions.

"But he was still to have a momentary respite for fame. While he was going down into that oblivion which rewards the labours of so many politicians; a pamphlet, ascribing Junius's letters to Sir Phillip, arrested his descent. Its arguments were plausible; and, for a while, opinion appeared to be in favour of the conjecture, notwithstanding a denial from the presumed Junius; which, however, had much the air of his feeling no strong dislike to being suspected of this new title to celebrity. But further examination extinguished the title; and left the secret, which had perplexed so many unravellers of literary webs, to perplex the grave idlers of generations to come.

"Yet the true wonder is not the concealment; for a multitude of causes might have produced the continued necessity even after the death of the writer; but the feasibility with which the chief features of Junius may be fastened on almost every writer, of the crowd for whom claims have been laid to this dubious honour: while, in every instance, some discrepancy finally starts upon the eye, which excludes the claim.

"Burke had more than the vigour, the information, and the command of language; but he was incapable of the virulence and the disloyalty. Horne Tooke had the virulence and the disloyalty in superabundance; but he wanted the cool sarcasm and the polished elegance, even if he could have been fairly supposed to be at once the assailant and the defender. Wilkes had the information and the wit; but his style was incorrigibly vulgar, and all its metaphors were for and from the mob: in addition, he would have rejoiced to declare himself the writer: his well-known answer to an inquiry on the subject was, 'Would to Heaven I had!' Utinam scripsissem! Lord George Germaine has been lately brought forward as a candidate; and the evidence fully proves that he possessed the dexterity of style, the powerful and pungent remark, and even the individual causes of bitterness and partisanship, which might be supposed to stimulate Junius: but, in the private correspondence of Junius with his printer, Woodfall, there are contemptuous allusions to Lord George's conduct in the field, which at once put an end to the question of authorship.

"Dunning possessed the style, the satire, and the partisanship; but Junius makes blunders in his law, of which Dunning must have been incapable. Gerard Hamilton (Single-speech) might have written the letters, but he never possessed the moral courage; and was, besides, so consummate a coxcomb, that his vanity must have, however involuntarily, let out the secret. The argument, that he was Junius; from his notoriously using the same peculiarities of phrase at the time when all the world was in full chase of the author, ought of itself to be decisive against him; for nothing can be clearer, than that the actual writer was determined on concealment, and that he would never have toyed with his dangerous secret so much in the manner of a school-girl, anxious to develop her accomplishments.

"It is with no wish to add to the number of the controversialists on this bluestocking subject, that a conjecture is hazarded; that Junius will be found, if ever found, among some of the humbler names of the list. If he had been a political leader, or, in any sense of the word, an independent man, it is next to impossible that he should not have left some indication of his authorship. But it is perfectly easy to conceive the case of a private secretary, or dependent of a political leader, writing, by his command, and for his temporary purpose, a series of attacks on a ministry; which, when the object was gained, it was of the highest importance to bury, so far as the connexion was concerned, in total oblivion. Junius, writing on his own behalf, would have, in all probability, retained evidence sufficient to substantiate his title, when the peril of the discovery should have passed away, which it did within a few years; for who would have thought, in 1780, of punishing even the libels on the king in 1770? Or when, if the peril remained, the writer would have felt himself borne on a tide of popular applause high above the inflictions of law.

"But, writing for another; the most natural result was, that he should have been pledged to extinguish all proof of the transaction; to give up every fragment that could lead to the discovery at any future period; and to surrender the whole mystery into the hands of the superior, for whose purposes it had been constructed, and who, while he had no fame to acquire by its being made public, might be undone by its betrayal.

"The marks of private secretaryship are so strong, that all the probable conjectures have pointed to writers under that relation; Lloyd, the private secretary of George Grenville; Greatrakes, Lord Shelburne's private secretary; Rosenhagen, who was so much concerned in the business of Shelburne house, that he may be considered as a second secretary; and Macauley Boyd, who was perpetually about some public man, and who was at length fixed by his friends on Lord Macartney's establishment, and went with him to take office in India.

"But, mortifying as it may be to the disputants on the subject, the discovery is now beyond rational hope; for Junius intimates his having been a spectator of parliamentary proceedings even further back than the year 1743; which, supposing him to have been twenty years old at the time, would give more than a century for his experience. In the long interval since 1772, when the letters ceased: not the slightest clue has been discovered; though doubtless the keenest inquiry was set on foot by the parties assailed. Sir William Draper died with but one wish, though a sufficiently uncharitable one, that he could have found out his castigator, before he took leave of the world. Lord North often avowed his total ignorance of the writer. The king's reported observation to Gen. Desaguiliers, in 1772, 'We know who Junius is, and he will write no more,' is unsubstantiated; and if ever made, was probably prefaced with a supposition; for no publicity ever followed; and what neither the minister of the day, nor his successors ever knew, could scarcely have come to the king's knowledge but by inspiration, nor remained locked up there but by a reserve not far short of a political error.

"But the question is not worth the trouble of discovery; for, since the personal resentment is past, its interest can arise only from pulling the mask off the visage of some individual of political eminence, and giving us the amusing contrast of his real and his assumed physiognomy; or from unearthing some great unknown genius. But the leaders have been already excluded; and the composition of the letters demanded no extraordinary powers. Their secret information has been vaunted; but Junius gives us no more than what would now be called the 'chat of the clubs;' the currency of conversation, which any man mixing in general life might collect in his half-hour's walk down St. James's Street: he gives us no insight into the purposes of government; of the counsels of the cabinet he knows nothing. The style was undeniably excellent for the purpose, and its writer must have been a man of ability. If it had been original, he might have been a man of genius; but it was notoriously formed on Col. Titus's letter, which from its strong peculiarities, is of easy imitation. The crime and the blunder together of Junius was, that he attacked the king, a man so publicly honest and so personally virtuous, that his assailant inevitably pronounced himself a libeller. But if he had restricted his lash to the contending politicians of the day, justice would have rejoiced in his vigorous severity. Who could have regretted the keenest application of the scourge to the Duke of Grafton, the most incapable of ministers, and the most openly and offensively profligate of men; to the indomitable selfishness of Mansfield; to the avarice of Bedford, the suspicious negotiator of the scandalous treaty of 1763; or to the slippered and drivelling ambition of North, sacrificing an empire to his covetousness of power?"

Mr. Croly has recorded a quantity of the "good things" that were said by the wits of the day at the table of the Prince, who used the facilities which his rank afforded him, of collecting around him all that was most distinguished in intellect, with praiseworthy zeal. Had his companions been chosen only from among that highest class, we might have quoted with regard to him, the sentence of Cicero—"facillime et in optimam partem, cognoscuntur adolescentes, qui se ad claros et sapientes viros, bene consulentes rei publicæ, contulerunt: quibuscum si frequentes sunt, opinionem afferunt populo, eorum fore se similes quos sibi ipsi delegerint ad imitandum"—but unfortunately his intimacy was habitually shared by far less worthy associates—persons whom it was contamination to approach. Many of these jeux d'esprit are of respectable antiquity; we transcribe a few which are attributed to the Prince himself, as specimens of royal humour.

"The conversation turning on some new eccentricity of Lord George Gordon; his unfitness for a mob leader was instanced in his suffering the rioters of 1780 to break open the gin-shops, and, in particular, to intoxicate themselves by the plunder of Langdale's great distillery, in Holborn. 'But why did not Langdale defend his property?' was the question. 'He had not the means,' was the answer. 'Not the means of defence?' said the prince; 'ask Angelo: he, a brewer, a fellow all his life long at carte and tierce.'"

"Sheridan was detailing the failure of Fox's match with Miss Pulteney. 'I never thought that any thing would result from it,' said the prince. 'Then,' replied Sheridan, 'it was not for want of sighs: he sat beside her cooing like a turtle-dove.'

"'He never cared about it,' said the prince; 'he saw long ago that it was a coup manqué.'"

"Fox disliked Dr. Parr; who, however, whether from personal admiration, or from the habit which through life humiliated his real titles to respect—that of fastening on the public favourites of the time, persecuted him with praise. The prince saw a newspaper panegyric on Fox, evidently from the Dr.'s pen; and on being asked what he thought of it, observed, that 'it reminded him of the famous epitaph on Machiavel's tomb,'—

"'Tanto nomini nullum Par elogium.'"

"If English punning," says Mr. Croly, "be a proscribed species of wit; though it bears, in fact, much more the character of the 'chartered libertine,' every where reprobated, and every where received; yet classical puns take rank in all lands and languages. Burke's pun on 'the divine right of kings and toastmasters,'—the jure de-vino—perhaps stands at the head of its class. But in an argument with Jackson, the prince, jestingly, contended that trial by jury was as old as the time of Julius Cæsar; and even that Cæsar died by it. He quoted Suetonius: 'Jure cæsus videtur.'"

In October, 1788, George the III. was afflicted with a mental disease, which totally incapacitated him for the duties of government. We do not wish to be unjustly harsh, but when we consider the irritability which, as may be inferred from the anecdote we have related of the King's intention to retire from England, must have formed a prominent trait in his character, and the displeasure he could not help manifesting in his communications to Parliament respecting the Prince's debts, it is impossible to reject the idea that the conduct of the latter was a main cause of his affliction.

He recovered, however, before the preliminary arrangements for the entrance of the Prince upon the regency had been completed. From this period up to the moment when the King became again a victim of the same dreadful malady, from whose grasp he never afterwards was freed, the Prince mixed no more with politics, but "abandoned himself," in the words of our author, "to pursuits still more obnoxious than those of public ambition." The course of his life was only varied by his disastrous marriage with the unfortunate Caroline, Princess of Brunswick. One of Mr. Croly's chapters is headed "the Prince's Marriage," the next, "the Royal Separation." We need not occupy much space with a subject which must be familiar to all of our readers, and of which the details are as disgusting as they are pitiful. Of all the foul stains upon the character of the royal profligate, it has stamped the foulest. Every principle of honour, of virtue, of humanity, was violated in the grossest manner.

That the Prince of Wales was morally guilty of the crime of bigamy in marrying the Princess Caroline, we have no hesitation in asserting. No one can doubt that Mrs. Fitzherbert had the claims of a wife upon him previously to his entering into this second engagement, however it may be attempted, as has been done by Mr. Croly, to deny such claims, upon the ground that the connexion was void by the laws of the land, although the ordinances of religion may have been complied with. If it can be supposed, that the Prince was determined, whilst binding himself at the altar of God by the most sacred vows, to take advantage of the laws of the land to cast aside the solemn obligations he thus assumed, as soon as it suited his convenience, in what a despicable situation is he placed! Deceit, perjury, sacrilege, would be terms too weak for the act. But Mr. Croly's own words are sufficient to prove that the lady was, and is, considered to have been connected with him by other ties than those of a mistress. He says, "she still enjoys at least the gains of the connexion, and up to the hoary age of seventy-five, calmly draws her salary of ten thousand pounds a year!" Would that salary be continued to a mistress? It is evident from the English papers that Mrs. Fitzherbert is treated with the greatest consideration by the present king and royal family, and that she is received by them on the most intimate footing; her name is recorded amongst those of the constant guests at the royal table and social assemblages of every kind. On what other ground can this circumstance be accounted for, than that she is regarded as a sister-in-law by the sovereign, and as a reputable relative by his family?

It is singular enough that Mr. Croly seems to consider a violation of the laws of God less reprehensible than a violation of the laws of man. Such at least is the unavoidable inference to be drawn from his remarks on this matter. He is quite indignant at the idea of his Royal Highness having married a woman of inferior rank, and a Roman Catholic (there is the horrid part of the affair,) by which he would have been guilty of a sin against the state, and evinces great anxiety to prove that the crime was one of a much lighter dye—merely an adulterous connexion, by which he transgressed one of the Divine Commandments. This Mr. Fox also attempted to do in Parliament, when it was hinted by a member that the liaison was not of the character which usually subsists between individuals in the relative rank of the Prince and the lady, and the attempt was disgraceful enough even in a statesman—but in a minister of religion!—we leave it however to speak for itself.

In 1811, George the III. was a second time a lunatic, and the Prince ascended his throne, though only with the title of Regent, which he did not change for that of King until 1820, when the nominal monarch died, having survived his reason for nearly ten years. Ten years longer did the Fourth George sway the sceptre of the noblest empire in the world; and then he too mingled with the same dust as the meanest of his subjects. "C'est ainsi," in the words of Bossuet, "que la puissance divine, justement irritée centre notre orgueil, le pousse jusqu' au néant, et que, pour égaler á jamais les conditions, elle ne fait de nous tous qu' une même cendre."

During the last years of his life, George the IVth was the prey of various maladies, with which a remarkably strong constitution enabled him to struggle until the spring of 1830. His corporeal sufferings may have been one cause of his almost entire seclusion at Windsor Castle, where he was like the Grand Lama of Thibet, unseeing and unseen, except by a chosen few, but it cannot be doubted that the knowledge of the unpopularity under which he certainly laboured, had some effect in producing the slight communication which took place between him and his subjects. So notorious was his aversion to making an appearance in London, that when he was first announced, last April, to be seriously indisposed, it was rumoured for a time that the sickness was fictitious—a mere pretence to avoid holding a levee which had been fixed for a certain day in that month, and which was in consequence deferred. But before the period had arrived to which it was postponed, there was no longer a doubt that the angel of death was brandishing his dart, and that there was little chance of averting the threatened stroke. The bulletins which the royal physicians daily promulgated, though couched in equivocal and unsatisfactory terms, shadowed out impending dissolution. The reason of their ambiguity was currently believed to be the circumstance, that the King insisted upon reading the newspapers in which they were published; whilst the medical attendants were anxious to withhold from him a knowledge of his true situation.

Besides being in the public prints, these bulletins appeared, in manuscript copies, in the windows of almost every shop, and were likewise shown every day at the Palace of St. James, by a lord and groom in waiting, richly dressed, to all of the loving subjects who preferred repairing thither for the satisfaction of their affectionate solicitude. It was rather amusing to watch the manner in which this satisfaction was obtained. The bulletins were thrust into the faces of all as they entered into the great hall where the exhibitors were stationed, with laudable earnestness and zeal, and most of the visiters looked with great interest—upon the paintings with which the apartment was adorned. The multitudes of persons, however, of both sexes, and often of high distinction, who filled the rooms that were thrown open, during the fashionable hours of the day, rendered it an entertaining scene. The most anxious faces were those of the owners of dry-good shops, by whom the recovery of the monarch was indeed an object devoutly desired, as they had already laid in their varieties of spring fashions, which the universal mourning that was to follow the demise of the crown, would convert almost into positive lumber.

At length, on the 26th of June, intelligence was received that the monarch of Great Britain had been conquered by a still more powerful king. What mourning without grief! what weeping without a tear! The papers immediately commenced a chorus of lamentation and eulogy, in which but one discordant voice was heard. This was the voice of the "Times"—the only leading journal which had independence and spirit enough to vindicate its character as a guardian of the public morals, by disdaining to prostitute its columns to the purposes of falsehood. One paper affirmed, among other fulsome and mendacious remarks, that the royal defunct must have taken his departure from this world with a clear conscience, as he had never injured an individual! After such an assertion

"Quis neget arduis Pronos relabi posse rivos Montibus, Tiberimque riverti?"

Did the shades of an injured wife and an injured father never rise before the imagination of the dying man? did the injury inflicted by a life of evil example never appal the recollection of the dying King? Yes, a life of evil example; we repeat the phrase. Look at his whole career, from the moment when it first became free from control, to its close. Does it not afford an almost uninterrupted series of the most scandalous violations of the rules which a king especially should hold sacred—the rules of religion, of morals? When young, he countenanced by his deportment the extravagance and profligacy of all the youth of the kingdom—when old, contemplate the avowed, the flagrant concubinage he sanctioned—see one adulteress openly succeeding another in his favour, and say whether his declining years furnished a more exemplary model for imitation than those of his boyhood. Worse than all, behold by whom, amongst others, his very death-bed, we may say, is surrounded—the mistress who had last sacrificed her virtue and honour, and the husband and the children of that woman, who were occupying places in the royal household, as the price of the wife and the mother's shame. It is well known that it was not until after the accession of the present sovereign, that Lady Conyngham, and the man from whom she derives the right of being so entitled, together with their offspring, received an intimation that their presence was no longer desirable at Windsor Castle, from which they departed, in consequence, amid the ridicule and scorn of the empire.

It was an interesting period for an American to be in London, that of the death of one king, and the accession of another; and, as such events are not of every-day occurrence, we esteemed ourselves particularly fortunate in being on the spot at the time. The various ceremonies consequent upon them,—the lying in state,—the obsequies,—the proclamation,—the prorogation of Parliament, and so forth, were well worth witnessing; but, by far the most interesting result they produced, was the general election which followed the dissolution of the legislature. We were enabled, through the kindness of a gentleman who was a candidate, to study the whole process of an election in a free borough, having accompanied him, at his invitation, to the scene of political strife, and remained there until the contest was brought to a close. By occupying a few pages with an account of it, we may, perhaps, communicate some degree of information and pleasure to a portion of our readers, without being guilty of too wide a digression.

The two first days subsequently to our arrival in the town, were spent in visiting those persons whose suffrages were not ascertained at the time when the candidates made their canvass, two or three weeks before, that is to say,—called personally upon every one who possessed a vote, and requested his support. In this, there is no mincing of the matter in the least,—the suffrage is openly asked, and as openly promised or refused; but it is only among the more respectable class, that this ceremonial is sufficient,—the others "thank their God they have a vote to sell." On the third day, the election commenced. Two temporary covered buildings had been erected near each other in the principal part of the town, in one of which were the hustings and the polls, and the other was employed for the sittings of a species of court, where the qualifications of suspected voters were tried. About nine in the morning, the candidates, three in number, proceeded to the former booth, if we may so term it, and, after the settlement of the necessary preliminaries, were proposed and seconded as representatives of the borough, in the order in which they stood on the hustings. These were partitioned into three divisions,—one belonging to each of the opposing gentlemen,—which were crowded with their respective friends. Directly below the hustings, which were considerably elevated, was a table, round which were seated the poll clerks, and others officially connected with the election. This was separated by a board running across the building, from the polls, which were also divided into three parts, or boxes, corresponding with the divisions of the hustings. All the proposers and seconders made speeches, as well as the candidates,—and nothing could surpass the amusing nature of the scene during the discourses of two of the haranguers, who were particularly obnoxious to a large portion of the assembled crowd. They were saluted with a vast variety of gentle epithets, and almost every method of annoyance and interruption was put in practice. After the speechification was concluded, the polling commenced. It was done by tallies. The committee of each candidate, marshalled in succession ten of their friends at a time, who appeared in the box belonging to their party, and, on being asked, one after another, for whom they voted, gave, vivâ voce, either a plumper for one, or split their vote amongst two of the candidates. This system was regularly prosecuted, until the diminished numbers of one of the parties, rendered it difficult to collect ten men in time, when as many as could be brought together, were sent in. On the last day of the election, not more than one vote was polled in an hour in one of the boxes.

The candidates were obliged to remain in their places on the hustings, day after day, from the opening until the closing of the polls, and thank aloud every one who gave them a vote. At the end of every day's polling, the three gentlemen made speeches, all pretty much of the same purport, expressing their thanks for the support they had received, and their perfect confidence of ultimate success. There were not more than six or seven hundred voters in the town; and yet, for eight days, was the contest carried on. On the ninth, one of the parties retired from the field, and the other two were declared duly elected; after which they were chaired. The reason of this protraction, was owing in part to the unavoidable slowness of vivâ voce voting, but chiefly to the number of votes objected to, by persons whose occupation it was to point out every flaw they could discover in the qualifications of those who appeared at the polls. One of those persons was in the employ of each candidate, and, as the struggle was close and somewhat acrimonious, objections were made on the slightest possible grounds, which were furnished in abundance, by the variety of circumstances that disqualified a man for voting in that borough. Whenever an objection was made, the objector stated the cause of it; and, having written it down on a piece of paper, handed it to the voter objected to, who repaired with it to the other booth. Here, having shown it to the assessor, or judge, who was invested with unlimited power to decide upon every question of qualification, he was tried in his turn. This was by far the more interesting and amusing of the two booths. The trial was conducted in regular form. The accused, so to call him, was placed at the bar of the court, where he was cross-questioned, and confronted with friendly and adverse witnesses; and then the lawyers in attendance, who had been respectively largely feed by the several candidates, pleaded for, or against his qualifications, according as he was a friend, or not, of their employer. When the arguments were finished, the assessor either rejected his vote, or sent him back to the polls with a certificate of qualification, which he exhibited, and had his suffrage recorded. In some instances, the trials were speedily despatched; but, generally, they occupied a considerable space of time, so that when the polls were finally closed, there were at least a hundred names on the books of the court, of persons who were yet to be arraigned.

It would require more space than is at our disposal, to enter into any detail of the odd speeches which were made, and the various scenes, laughable and serious, that occurred during the course of the election. For the same reason, we cannot dwell upon the observations which are naturally excited by the whole matter; but, we may remark, that we became fully satisfied, that frequent Parliaments, with the present election system, would be one of the greatest evils which could be inflicted on England. The seldomer, certainly, that such sluices of varied corruption are opened, the better. Here was a whole town for weeks in a state of the worst kind of commotion,—almost all the usual labours of the lower classes were suspended; unrestricted freedom of access to taverns and alehouses, at the expense of those who were courting their sweet voices, was afforded them; and some idea may be formed of the use that was made of it, from the fact that the bill brought to one of the candidates, by the keeper of an inn, for a single night's debauch, amounted to nearly a hundred pounds sterling. At the bar of the court where the qualifications were examined, abundant evidence was given, that this indirect species of bribery was not the only kind which was in operation. The intense eagerness manifested by the greater part of those to whose votes objections had been made, to obtain a decision of the assessor in their favour,—the quantity and grossness of the falsehoods they uttered, in order to effect that object, rendered palpable the existence of some very potent motive for desiring the possession of a suffrage. That these evils are to be attributed mainly to the vivâ voce mode of voting, we have little doubt, and, assuredly, the tree which produces such fruit, cannot be sound. But, we feel no desire to involve ourselves in a discussion concerning the best system of election, which has been debated usque ad nauseam, and we shall therefore return to our proper subject.

There are various pictures afforded by the different portions of the career of his late Majesty, which it may be of the highest benefit for republican Americans to contemplate. It was beautifully said by Sheridan, in one of the most brilliant of his speeches, that Bonaparte was an instrument in the hands of Providence to make the English love their constitution better; cling to it with more fondness; hang round it with more tenderness: and in the same way we may affirm that such kings as George IV. are eminently calculated to strengthen our attachment to the republican institutions of this country. The history of their lives furnishes that gross evidence of the absurdities involved in the doctrine of hereditary right, which cannot fail to disgust and revolt. It presents the spectacle of a ruler the least fitted to rule. It proves that princes, from the very circumstance of being princes, are the least likely to be able to execute those duties which devolve upon them, with efficiency or conscientiousness—that the situation in which they are placed by their birth, nullifies the very reason for which their order was first established, and renders them a curse instead of a blessing. What was the source from which royal privileges and authority first flowed? Was it not the superiority in various ways of the persons who were invested with them, and which caused them to be considered as pre-eminently qualified to discharge the functions incumbent on a king? And is not the name of king at present, a by-word for inferiority in every respect in which inferiority is degrading? Every deficiency indeed of talent, knowledge, virtue, is regarded so much as a matter of course in a personage of royal station, that the slightest proof of the possession of either, which in an humbler individual would just be sufficient to screen him from remark, is cried up as something wonderful. Think of a king being able to quote a Latin line, or make a speech of ten minutes in length!—the boast of Mr. Croly with regard to George IV. Such an unusual occurrence is deemed almost incredible, and many persons, even among his own subjects, will firmly believe that neither feat was performed in consequence of original information and faculties, but resulted from the suggestions of another.

But by far the most important light in which we republicans can contemplate the career of George IV. in connexion with the object of increasing our love for the institutions under which we live, is that of morality and religion. The point may be conceded, which is always advanced as the main argument in support of hereditary monarchical government—that it is better adapted to preserve the peace of a country by keeping the succession free from difficulty and doubt, though a reference to history may perhaps warrant the denial even of this position, by exhibiting the various usurpations, murders, unnatural rebellions of children against parents, and other heart-sickening crimes, the consequences of the right invested in one family of exercising sovereign rule, which have so often plunged whole nations into misery and blood;—but this point may be acknowledged; we may admit that elections of chief magistrates are more likely to be the source of frequent troubles. If it can nevertheless be shown, that there is that in the very essence of monarchical institutions which is in any way hostile to virtue, the question ought to be considered as settled in favour of the system that is free from this insuperable objection; for it cannot be denied, that any principle at all tending to aid the propagation of immorality, is the worst which can be admitted into the social and political compacts by which men are united together, and should most be deprecated and eschewed. No matter what apparent or real beneficial results may flow from it, they cannot counterbalance the detriment it may inflict upon the surest guarantee of permanent good to man, both in his individual and aggregate capacity—both with regard to his temporal and eternal interests. National happiness and prosperity of a durable character, are inseparable from national virtue. The evils produced by dissensions concerning the chief power in a state, are in a degree contingent and temporary; those engendered by immorality are certain and lasting. Let then the pages, not merely of the book which tells the story of George IVth of England, but of all history be consulted, and who will deny that they furnish overwhelming evidence that the moral atmosphere of courts has been at all times tainted and baleful; that they have been ever the centres of corruption and vice, and that they must ever be so? They must ever be so, we assert, because the natural and unavoidable result of raising any collection of persons above the opinion, as it were, of the rest of the world, and of surrounding them with a species of prestige which prevents their vices and follies from being viewed in their real hideousness, is to ensure amongst them the sway of immorality. They thus form a sanctuary for corruption, which can never be established in a country where no factitious distinctions exist; there profligacy can have no refuge when hard pressed by public opinion, no ramparts behind which to protect itself from the assaults of that potent enemy; and it will never in consequence be able to obtain there any other than individual dominion.

If we turn our eyes upon the condition of the English court as it now exists, although it may be less exceptionable than when George was at its head, we shall find sufficient justification of the foregoing remarks. The present sovereign, it is well known, is unfortunate in possessing a mind of that nervous description, which renders any considerable excitement a thing to be avoided; it was the effect produced upon it by his appointment to the Lord High Admiraltyship during his brother's life, which occasioned his removal from that post. His moral character is certainly less disreputable than that of his predecessor; but who can witness, without feelings akin to disgust, the spectacle of a family of illegitimate offspring exalted in the palace, and following him in all his perambulations? It is far from our wish to cast any reflection upon those unfortunate persons, who are in no way accountable for the ignominy and guilt connected with their birth. The shame and the reproach are for the author of the stain, who exposes himself to double reprehension, by the countenance he virtually lends to the cause of immorality. William IV., however, is a paragon in comparison to his next brother, the Duke of Cumberland, a person, who, if he has given any warrant for the tenth part of the imputations which rest upon him, can only have escaped the penalties inflicted by the law on the greatest offences, because he is the brother of the king. We cannot convey a better idea of the estimation in which he is held in London, than by stating, that in all the caricatures where an attempt is made to embody the evil spirit, his person is used for that purpose.

"What poor things are kings! What poorer things are nations to obey Him, whom a petty passion does command!"

These considerations, we repeat, are well adapted to promote the important object to which we have alluded, of causing our institutions to be properly appreciated and loved by ourselves. This is the great desideratum with respect to them—the chief thing necessary for their preservation. Our situation now is more enviable than that of any country of the earth; and all which is requisite is, that we should be aware of our own happiness, and rightly understand the source from which it springs—the republican form of government. Let us be thoroughly impressed with the conviction of the superior efficacy of this system over every other, in promoting the end for which political societies were instituted, and we are safe. We will then be furnished with the best defence against the principal enemy from which danger need be dreaded,—we mean that propensity to change, which is one of the common infirmities of the human breast,—that restlessness which renders the life of man a scene of constant struggle, tends to prevent him from estimating and enjoying the blessings he possesses, and often causes him to dash away with his own rash hand, the cup of happiness from his lips. "Our complexion," says Burke, "is such, that we are palled with enjoyment, and stimulated with hope,—that we become less sensible to a long-possessed benefit, from the very circumstance that it is become habitual. Specious, untried, ambiguous prospects of new advantage, recommend themselves to the spirit of adventure, which more or less prevails in every mind. From this temper, men and factions, and nations too, have sacrificed the good of which they had been in assured possession, in favour of wild and irrational expectations." To be satisfied, is, indeed, we fear, difficult for human nature, even where there is no good to be reached beyond what we already have obtained. A great object, in such case, is to be convinced that there is no such good to be acquired—to suppose that we have arrived at the utmost boundaries of mortal felicity.

Nothing, however, that we have advanced as fitted to aid that object, inasmuch as it respects our political condition, is of such influence for its accomplishment, as the contemplation of the actual state of the European world. When the tempest howls without, the domestic hearth is invested with a doubly inviting aspect; we gather round it with eagerness, in proportion to the dismal appearance of external nature, and bless it for the security which it affords from the rage of the heavens. Should we not, in like manner, embrace with redoubled fondness, the institutions which maintain us in prosperity and peace, now, especially, whilst we are enabled to behold the fearful operation of the consequences of monarchical rule—the horrors in which they are involving the fairest and most civilized portions of the globe; and when we know, too, that the motive which inspired the inhabitants of those countries with courage to encounter the storm, by which they are tossed about on the sea of revolution, was the hope of being driven by it into some haven like that which shelters us from the fury of winds and waves? When, if ever, they will attain to the possession of the blessings which we enjoy,—how all the troubles by which they are agitated will end, is what no human ken is competent to discern; but the philanthropist and the Christian need never despair. Out of chaos came this beautiful world; and the same Being who called it into existence, still watches over its concerns,—is still as potent to convert obscurity into brightness, as when He first said, "Let there be light," and there was light!

Art. III.—Essay on the Hieroglyphic System of M. Champollion, Jr. and the advantages which it offers to sacred criticism. By J. G. H. Greppo, Vicar-General of Belley. Translated from the French by Isaac Stuart, with notes and illustrations. Boston: pp. 276.

In former numbers of this journal, there are several articles devoted to the subject of Egyptian hieroglyphics, particularly as connected with the labours of Mons. Champollion. Every day seems to give opportunity of additional observation, by furnishing new and interesting facts. How much further the investigations may be carried, it would be unsafe even to conjecture; but, in the present state of things, we are fully authorized to consider the problem of hieroglyphics as at last solved, and such general principles established, as must render subsequent investigations comparatively easy. Every age seems to be productive of some great genius peculiarly adapted to the accomplishment of some great design, connected either with the advancement of learning, or the melioration of the moral condition of mankind. The present appears fruitful of great men, and France, particularly favoured, whether we regard the great political events which have called out the most gigantic exhibitions of practical wisdom, or look at the onward march of science, which seems in no wise impeded, by convulsions which scatter every thing but science, like the yellow leaves of autumn. Let us not, however, be diverted from our object,—the sober investigation of a sober subject, alike deeply interesting to the philologer, the student of history, and the inquirer into the sacred truths connected with divine revelation.

The work which stands at the head of this article, purports to be an investigation of the hieroglyphic system developed in the published works of Mons. Champollion, Jr. and the advantage which it offers to sacred criticism. It is the performance of a clergyman of the Roman Catholic Church, J. G. H. Greppo, Vicar-General of Belley. The original work, however, is not before us. We examine it through the medium of a translation made by Mr. Isaac Stuart, son of the Rev. Moses Stuart, one of the most eminent scholars of our country, who vouches for the accuracy of the translation, having inspected the whole, and compared it with the original. Dr. Stuart has added some notes, where he has seen occasion to differ from Mr. Greppo, on some points of Hebrew philology and criticism. The reasons for his difference of opinion are given with that candour for which the writer is distinguished, and the intelligent reader is left to judge as to the merits of the question.

It is well known to the learned, that Mons. Champollion, the younger, has been spending several years in the uninterrupted study of the Egyptian hieroglyphics. In his capacity of Professor of History at Grenoble, he found his labours embarrassed by the immense hiatus which occurs in Egyptian history, and, to the filling up of this, he set himself to work with all the zeal and energy which genius could inspire. In this work, he had the advantage of youth, and a very superior education in the Coptic and other oriental languages, connected with a patience of investigation, which appears almost miraculous. He had the advantage of knowing, moreover, that, if ever any just conclusion was to be gained, he must seek it by getting some starting point, different from that whence all his predecessors had set out. There had been a variety of learned men whose investigations were directed to this point, such as Father Kircher the Jesuit, whose different works on Egyptian antiquities had been successively published in Rome, from 1636 to 1652—Warburton, the highly gifted author of the Divine Legation of Moses, the learned Count de Gebelin, and others of equal and less name. But these had all confessedly failed, and the learned almost gave up the subject in despair, so much so, that Champollion himself, states it as the only opinion which appeared to be well established among them, viz. "that it was impossible ever to acquire that knowledge which had hitherto been sought with great labour, and in vain."

In the midst of these discouragements, a circumstance occurred, familiar probably to our readers, but to which we allude merely to observe, that it seemed at once to open a new era of investigation, and is among the many evidences of the fact, that events of apparently the most inconsiderable description, are connected with results whose magnitude cannot be estimated. At the close of the last century, while the French troops were engaged in the prosecution of the war in Egypt, it is well known, that a number of learned men were associated with the expedition, for the prosecution of purposes far more honourable than those of human conquest,—we mean the exploration of a hitherto sealed country, with the express design of advancing the arts and sciences. One division of the army occupied the village of Raschid, otherwise called Rosetta; and, while they were employed in digging the foundation for a fort, they found a block of black basalt, in a mutilated condition, bearing a portion of three inscriptions, one of which was in the Egyptian hieroglyphics. The fate of the military expedition, lost to the French the possession of this stone, as it fell into the hands of the British, by the capitulation of Alexandria; it was afterward conveyed to London, and placed in the British museum. Previously to the termination of the war, however, the stone and its characters had been correctly delineated by the artists connected with the commission, and then, through the medium of an engraving, placed in possession of the learned. This is a brief history of the Rosetta stone, as it is called, but still it baffled the investigations of the learned. They had gone upon the supposition, that the hieroglyphic method of writing must, of necessity, be ideographic, i. e. figurative or symbolical, and that each of these signs was the expression of an idea. Here appears to have been the great root of all their mistakes on the subject, mistakes naturally fallen into by the moderns, inasmuch as the few incidental passages left on the subject in the writings of the ancients, all recognized this as a fact. Except Clement of Alexandria, one of the fathers of the church, not a solitary writer had left on record any other opinion; and the passage of Clement has itself never been understood, until since the discoveries of Champollion. It seems to be one of those curious facts connected with the history of the human mind, that it requires a great intellect to seize on the simplest element of truth. It is easy to speculate on data, which are assumed without a rigorous examination, and then to make an exhibition of learning which may astonish the world; but, it is the province of the greatest genius to lay hold of simple truth, and establish a foundation utterly immoveable, before there is any attempt at a superstructure. This was the business, and this the achievement of Champollion. Now that the discovery is made, we are amazed at the want of previous penetration. It struck the mind of Champollion, that, if the Egyptian hieroglyphics were ideographic, there must be exceptions, for two substantial reasons: first, because proper names, or names of persons, do not always admit of being expressed by any sign, that is, proper names have not in all cases a meaning; and, second, because foreign names, or those which have no relation to any particular spoken language, could not be represented by conventional signs. These principles appear now to be self-evident, and this is the basis of Champollion's discovery. On this he built the idea, that there must exist among the Egyptians alphabetic characters, which should express the sounds of the spoken language; and, in order to test this principle, he set about the investigation of the celebrated Rosetta stone. This stone, let it be remembered, had on it three inscriptions in different characters. One of these inscriptions was written in Greek, and of course easily decyphered; of the other two, one was written in hieroglyphics, and the other in the common character of the country. The course pursued by Champollion, was exceedingly simple, and, on that account, may be considered masterly. In the Greek text, the name of Ptolemy occurred, together with some names which were foreign to the Egyptian language. In the hieroglyphic inscription, there were certain signs grouped together and frequently repeated; and, what rendered them remarkable was, that they were enclosed in a kind of oval or ring, called a cartouche, and maintained a relative position which seemed to correspond with the Greek word Ptolemy. Champollion conjectured, that there must be some connection between the signs clustered in these rings, and the name of Ptolemy expressed by signs, which would sound like that word; and this led him to expect, that he would get at what he was persuaded was the truth, viz. that the hieroglyphic writing was alphabetic, rather than exclusively ideographic. With the view of testing this, he went into a close analysis of the group of signs which he supposed designated the name of Ptolemy; and, as the result of this analysis, obtained what he considered the equivalents to the letters in the name of this prince.

In order to give our readers an idea of his process of investigation, we will state the signs which he found in the group surrounded by a ring on the Rosetta stone. These are the following: a square—half circle—a flower with the stem bent—a lion in repose—the three sides of a parallelogram—two feathers, and a crooked line. The square, Champollion considered the equivalent of the Greek letter Π—the half circle, Τ—the flower with the stem bent, Ο—the lion in repose, Λ—the three sides of the parallelogram, Μ—the feathers, Η,—and the crooked line, Σ. This gave the name Ptolmês. At this stage of his investigations, Champollion supposed that he had obtained seven signs of an alphabet; but, could he have gone no further, he would have established nothing, and his researches would have passed off with the labours of the learned who had preceded him. To test his principle further, it was necessary, therefore, that he should be able to get at some other monument, on which there should be recognized some name also known by some Greek or other connected inscription. Such a monument was found in an obelisk discovered in the island of Philæ, and transported to London. On this was discovered a group of characters also enclosed in a ring, and containing more signs than the former, some of them similar. On a part of the base which originally supported the obelisk, there was an inscription in Greek, addressed to Ptolemy and Cleopatra. Now, if the basis of Champollion was correct, there ought to be found in the name Cleopatra, such signs as were common to both, and they must perform the same functions which had been previously assigned them; and this was precisely the result. We have this strikingly set forth in a note of the translator, which is here presented.

"To prove that the conjectures of Champollion were true, the first sign in the name of Cleopatra should not be found in the name of Ptolemy, because the letter Κ does not occur in ΠΤΟΛΜΕΣ. This was found to be the fact. The letter Κ represented by a quadrant.

"The second sign (a lion in repose which represents the Λ), is exactly similar to the fourth sign in the name of Ptolemy, which, as we have already seen, represents a Λ.

"The third sign in the name of Cleopatra is a feather; which should represent the single vowel Ε, because the two feathers in the name of Ptolemy represent double Epsilon, which is equivalent to the Greek Η. Such is its import. As Greppo remarks in a note, and as has been fully proved by subsequent investigations of Champollion, the sign which resembles two feathers, corresponds also with the vowels Ε, Ι, and with the diphthongs ΑΙ, ΕΙ.

"The fourth character in the hieroglyphic cartouche of Cleopatra, representing a flower with a stalk bent back (or a knop), corresponds to the Ο in the Greek name of this queen. This sign is the very same with the third character in the hieroglyphic name of Ptolemy, which there represents Ο.

"The fifth sign is in the form of a square. It here represents the Π, and is the same with the first sign in the hieroglyphic name of Ptolemy.

"The sixth sign, corresponding to the Greek vowel Α in Cleopatra, is a hawk; which of course ought not to be found in the name of Ptolemy (as it has no letter Α), and it is not.

"The seventh character is an open hand, representing the Τ; but this hand is not found in the hieroglyphic name of Ptolemy, where Τ, the second letter in that name, is represented by a half circle. The reader will see in Note G, why these two signs stand for the same letter and sound.

"The eighth character in the name of Cleopatra, which is a mouth, and which here represents the Greek Ρ, should not be found in the name of Ptolemy, and it is not.

"The ninth and last sign in the name of the queen, which represents the vowel Α, is the hawk, the very same sign which represents this vowel in the third syllable of the same name.

"The name of Cleopatra is terminated by two hieroglyphic symbolical signs, the egg and the half circle, which, according to Champollion, are always used to denote the feminine gender."

These were great advances, and our readers will now easily understand the process by which the distinguished discoverer arrived at his results. Step by step, he has thus been able to form his phonetic alphabet. In September, 1822, he gave an account of his discovery, and of the principles of his system, in a letter to Mons. Dacier, perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Inscriptions, and of Belles Lettres. In 1824, Champollion published the first edition of his work, "Précis du système hièroglyphique des anciens Egyptiens, ou recherches sur les elémens premiers de cette ecriture sacrée, &c." This is the work which is reviewed in the number of this journal for June, 1827, p. 438. In the year 1828, a second edition of this work was called for, and this second edition is rendered more valuable, by having appended to it the letter to Mons. Dacier.

It is not the purpose of the present article, to go into an account of the results of Champollion's labours;—this has been amply done in preceding pages of this journal. The essay of Mons. Greppo, gave us a favourable opportunity, following the course of the author, of stating in brief, the process by which Champollion arrived at his most valuable and interesting conclusions. The object of the essay is to show the advantages which this discovery gives to the study of sacred criticism. This is the special aim of the work; and, in relation to this, the author has observed:;—

"Some of the numerous facts, which the study of Egyptian monuments with the aid of the hieroglyphic system has developed, will be applied to the Holy Scriptures in some of those portions which relate to Egypt, and they will shed much light upon these passages of the sacred annals. We shall endeavour to accomplish this work with all the precision and simplicity possible in researches which are necessarily scientific, but which are of high interest on account of their tendency; and it is on this account only, that we present them with such confidence.

"A religion whose origin is from above, is without doubt safe from the vain attacks of a few blinded men; and, while it has been defended for so many centuries by the most powerful minds that have shed a lustre upon the sciences and upon literature, it scarcely needs our weak defence. Yet it is consoling to a Christian, to witness the amazing progress of human knowledge. The mind is ever attaining to new truths, and is confirming the remark so often quoted from a celebrated English Chancellor, (Bacon) a remark which applies as well to revealed as to natural religion, of which Christianity is but the development; Leves gustus in philosophia movere fortasse ad atheismum, sed pleniores haustus ad religionem reducere: i. e. superficial knowledge in philosophy may perhaps lead to atheism, but a fundamental knowledge will lead to religion."

The Essay of Mons. Greppo is composed of two parts, the first of which is an explanation of the hieroglyphic system of Champollion; and the second, the application of the hieroglyphic system to the elucidation of the sacred writings. The relations of the Hebrews with the Egyptians were such, that the history of the latter cannot be otherwise than most intimately connected with the religion of the Bible. In fact, there was no country in the world, foreign to Judea, whose name is so conspicuous in the Bible, as that of Egypt; beginning at the time of Abraham, and going down to the very Apostolic age; and it hence follows, that he who would study in detail, the historic annals of the Hebrews, ought to be as fully acquainted with those of ancient Egypt, as the largest means will allow. In carrying out his intention, M. Greppo has gone deeply into philological, historical, chronological, and geographical considerations. By making the "précis" of Champollion the basis of his argument, and bringing in to his assistance the labours of the elder Champollion, called by way of distinction Champollion Figeac, from the place of his residence; he has investigated the history of the Pharaohs, as connected with the accounts given in the books of Genesis and Exodus, and the later historical writings.

In the fourth chapter of the second part, there is an interesting discussion relative to the difficulty of reconciling the position taken in Exodus, as to the perishing of Pharaoh, with the conclusions drawn from the investigations of Champollion. The last Pharaoh of the Exodus, is ascertained to be the King Amenophis Ramses. According to Manetho, he reigned twenty years; viz. from 1493 B. C., to 1473 B. C., so calculated also by Champollion Figeac. But the departure of the children of Israel took place about the year 1491 B. C., consequently in the second or third year of this Prince. If this Prince perished in the Red Sea, how can this be reconciled with the fact, that Manetho states him to have reigned twenty years, and this is confirmed by the calculations of the elder Champollion. M. Greppo goes into an interesting discussion, to prove that the text of the Book of Exodus does not state that Pharaoh perished in the Red Sea. His examination of the sacred text will be interesting to many of our readers:

"Scripture does not compel us to believe that the Pharaoh with whom we now are concerned, participated in the fatal calamity of his army. And first, Moses says not a word to this effect, when he relates the miracle performed by the Lord in favour of his people. He informs us, it is true, that Pharaoh marched in pursuit of the children of Israel; And he made ready his chariot and took his people with him. And he took six hundred chosen chariots, and all the chariots of Egypt, and captains over every one of them. And the Lord hardened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and he pursued after the children of Israel (Exod. xiv. 6-8.). A little further on he says; And the Egyptians pursued, and went in after them, into the midst of the sea, even all Pharaoh's horses, his chariots and his horsemen (v. 23.). Finally he adds; And the waters returned, and covered the chariots, and the horsemen, and all the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after them; there remained not so much as one of them (v. 28). Such are the principal features of the narrative which Moses gives of this Egyptian expedition, and of the terrible event in which it resulted. But in the circumstantial account of this disaster, he does not name Pharaoh personally except when he speaks of his departure. Now if the persecutor of Israel entered the Red Sea with his army, and was swallowed up with it, is it probable that the chief and legislator of the Hebrews would have been silent about such a circumstance as the tragical death of this prince? an event more important, perhaps, than even the destruction of his army, and surely very proper as a striking illustration both of the protection which God extended to his people, and of the chastisements his justice inflicted upon the impious. And further; to strengthen the faith of this people when in a state of distrust and murmuring, Moses often recounts to them their deliverance from Egyptian bondage, their passage through the Red Sea, and the other miracles which God had wrought for them; and on all these occasions, when the allusion to the death of an oppressive prince would have been so natural, he conveys no such idea.

"The circumstance related by Moses, that no one escaped, there remained not so much as one of them, proves nothing relative to the supposed disaster of Pharaoh. It refers to those who followed the Hebrews into the sea, among whom Moses does not enumerate this prince. We remark also, that the sacred historian seems designedly to leave room for making exceptions to the general disaster, by the precise manner in which he announces, that the waters covered the chariots and the horsemen, and all the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after them; this literally signifies that the waters covered only the chariots and horsemen which entered into the sea, and leaves us to infer that all did not enter. The incidental expression in verse 28, that came into the sea after them, seems then to modify the more general expression in verse 23, even all, and authorizes us to understand it with some latitude, rather than to restrain it to its rigorous sense. All these circumstances of the narrative accord with the presumption, not only that Pharaoh did not enter into the Red Sea, but perhaps even that some of his infantry, if he possessed any, did not enter; and at least, that this is true of some principal chiefs who surrounded him, and who formed what we now call a body of staff-officers.

"In relating the miraculous passage of the Red Sea, the book of Wisdom, which describes so often and in such an admirable manner, the wonders of the Lord in conducting his people, and which celebrates the illustrious men whom he made his instruments, makes no mention either of Pharaoh or of his tragical death. It is limited to the remark, that in his wisdom he precipitated the enemies of Israel into the sea (Wisdom of Solomon, x. 19)."

Mons. Greppo appears to be aware, that there are difficulties attending his interpretation, arising out of the apparent positive declarations contained in other parts of the sacred volume: for instance, in Ex. ch. xv. 19th v., as also Ps. cxxxvi. 15th v. His answer to these objections, and some collateral arguments by which he endeavours to support his theory, are too long to be here introduced. Professor Stuart, in a learned note, part of which we feel compelled to quote, dissents from the reasoning of Mons. Greppo, and takes the safer course of leaving to further discoveries, what, in the present state of the researches, may not yet be considered as definitely settled.

"The modesty and ingenuity which M. Greppo has exhibited, in the discussion which gives occasion to the present note, certainly entitle him to much credit and approbation. Still it seems to me very doubtful, whether the exegesis in question can be supported. When God says, in Exod. xiv. 17, 'I will get me honour upon Pharaoh, and upon all his host, upon his chariots, and upon his horsemen;" and when he repeats the same sentiment in Exod. xiv. 18; the natural inference seems to be, that the fate of Pharaoh would be the same as that of his host, his chariots and his horsemen. Accordingly, in Exod. xiv. 23, it is said, 'The Egyptians pursued, and went in after them [the Hebrews] into the midst of the sea, every horse of Pharaoh and his chariot, and his horsemen, into the midst of the sea.' It is true, indeed, that כל סוס פרעה ורכבו may mean, all the horses of Pharaoh and all his chariots, viz. all those which belonged to his army. But is it not the natural implication here, that Pharaoh was at the head of his army, and led them on? And when in Exod. xiv. 28 it is said, that of all the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after the Israelites, there remained not so much as one of them, is not the natural implication here, that Pharaoh at the head of his army went into the sea, and perished along with them?

"In the triumphal song of Moses and the Hebrews, recorded in Exod. xv., the implication in verses 4, 19, seems most naturally to be, that Pharaoh was joined with his army in the destruction to which they were subjected.

"But still more does this appear, in Ps. cvi. 11, where it is said, 'The waters covered their enemies [the Egyptians]; there was not one of them left.' How could this well be said, if Pharaoh himself, the most powerful, unrelenting, and bitter enemy which they had, was still preserved alive, and permitted afterwards to make new conquests over his southern neighbours? This passage M. Greppo has entirely overlooked.

"In regard to Ps. cxxxvi. 15, the exegesis of our author is ingenious; but it will not bear the test of criticism. For example; in Exod. xiv. 27, it is said, 'And the Lord overthrew the Egyptians, in the midst of the sea; where the Hebrew word answering to overthrew is וינער from נער. But in Ps. cxxxvi. 15, the very same word is applied to Pharaoh and his host; 'And he overthrew (ונער) Pharaoh and his host. In both cases (which are exactly the same), the word נער properly means, he drave into (hineintreiben, Gesenius.) Now if the Lord drave the Egyptians into the midst of the sea, and also drave Pharaoh and his host into the midst of the sea, we cannot well see how Pharaoh escaped drowning. Accordingly, we find that such an occurrence is plainly recognized by Nehemiah ix. 10, 11, when, after mentioning Pharaoh, his servants, and his people, this distinguished man speaks of the 'persecutors of the Hebrews as thrown into the deep, as a stone in the mighty waters.'

"As to any difficulties respecting chronology in this case, about which M. Greppo seems to be principally solicitous, it may be remarked, that the subject of ancient Egyptian chronology is yet very far from being so much cleared up, as to throw any real embarrassments in the way of Scripture facts. More light will give more satisfaction—as in the famous case of the zodiacs, so finely described in the last chapter of M. Greppo's book."

The fifth and sixth chapters of the work of Mons. Greppo, are devoted to the examination of the history of the Pharaohs mentioned in the sacred writings, down to the time of Solomon, and of the other kings of Egypt, who are distinguished by proper names.

The seventh chapter is devoted to the chronology of Manetho, the official historiographer of Egypt; and several questions are discussed, which relate to the difference between him, and the scripture chronologers. In the close of the chapter, the author draws two conclusions, which we are disposed to think entirely justified by the present state of the investigations—these conclusions will be better stated in the author's own words:—

"From the remarks which we have communicated to our readers, we infer that there is no foundation for that fear about the advance of Egyptian studies, which the religious zeal of some estimable men has led them to cherish; neither is there any occasion to distrust the data transmitted by the historian of the Pharaohs. Nothing can authorize such a distrust. On the other hand, every thing conspires to prove, at the present time, that the new discoveries and their application to chronology, will disclose more and more the truth and exactness of the historic facts in Scripture. We believe that men are too apt to form a judgment of systems when they hardly understand them; and perhaps they are too prone to forget that if true faith is timorous, it is not distrustful, like the pride which is connected with the vain theories of men; because it views the basis, upon which the august edifice of divine revelation reposes, as immoveable. Inspired with this thought, we have adopted, from entire conviction, all the satisfactory results elicited by the labours of the Champollions; and we wait, with impatience and with confidence, the new developments which they promise, persuaded beforehand that revealed religion cannot but gain from them."

In the eighth chapter of his essay, Mons. Greppo applies the discoveries of Champollion to the Egyptian geography, so far as the scriptures are concerned. If it be true, as he conceives, that the city of Rameses occupied the site of the Arabian city, now called Ramsis, there seems to be an irreconcilable difference with some of the scripture relations; for this city, Ramsis, is on the western side of the river Nile, and not less than one hundred and fifty miles from that position on the Red Sea, where it is believed that the passage of the Israelites was made. However the question may eventually be settled, it appears to us, that this location can in no sense consist with the text of the sacred writings; for, in the first place, it would have required that the Israelites should have crossed the Nile, on their journey towards Palestine. Of this there is no account; neither had they any means; and it would have required a miraculous interposition to enable them so to do. But, second, the sacred text informs us, that, at the close of the second day after the departure of the Israelites from Rameses, they reached the borders of the Red Sea. It is utterly impossible that they could have crossed the Nile, and travelled one hundred and fifty miles in two days. It is beyond all rational calculation to suppose that they could have travelled at the rate of more than twenty miles per day, and, consequently, we must look for the situation of Rameses at a distance not greater certainly than forty miles from the Red Sea, and on the eastern side of the Nile. If the integrity of the sacred writings is to be preserved, the idea that the Rameses of the Bible, and the Ramsis of the Arabians are identical, must be abandoned, or, at any rate, not adopted until something far more conclusive shall be found, than has yet been given. Professor Stuart, in a note which we have above condensed, refers to a previous work of his, where this subject is more largely discussed, and which, as it may not be familiar to the mass of our readers, being a work distinctly connected with theological studies, will be referred to for a moment. In this work, the Professor enters largely into the examination of the location of Rameses, which stands also for Goshen. He considers, and with vast power of argument and illustration, that the royal residence of the Pharaohs at the time of Joseph and Moses, was at Zoan, and not Memphis, as has been generally supposed. There can be no question, that Zoan was one of the oldest cities of Lower Egypt, and situated on the eastern shore of the second or Tanitic mouth of the Nile, and this was but a little distance from the Pelusiac or eastern branch, on which the residence of the Israelites has generally been supposed to have been. It was an extensive city, and its ruins in the time of the French expedition, occupied an extensive country. Champollion has remarked that the word signifies, "mollis, delicatus, jucundus," which would make Zoan to mean Pleasant town. The reader will be interested to observe, that, in Ps. lxxviii, the writer alludes to Zoan, as the scenes of the miracles of Moses: also Ps. v. verse 12, and also lxxii. verse 43. In the time of Isaiah, it is quite clear, that Zoan was the place where the Egyptian court resided, at least for a time. See ch. xix. verse 11. There are objections to this view of Professor Stuart, but not stronger, than to others; and the most probable is, that the kings of Egypt had different places of royal residence, as is still customary. We know that Cyrus, after conquering Babylon, spent part of his time there, and part at the capital of his native country.

Contrary, therefore, to the opinion of Mons. Greppo, Professor Stuart considers Rameses or Goshen, to be decidedly on the eastern side of the Nile, and this is rendered more certain, if, as the Professor has attempted to prove, Zoan was frequently a royal residence of the Pharaohs. The opinion taken by Mons. Greppo, that Rameses was on the western side of the Nile, in what may be called Lower Eastern Egypt, without the delta, is refuted in Michaelis Supp. ad Lex. Hebraica, p. 397. We make no pretentions to the ability of settling these disputed points, and consider it perfectly safe to abide by the present general idea, as to the location of Rameses, especially as there is nothing yet in the shape of positive testimony against it. The reader who is particularly interested in Biblical Archæology, will be highly gratified by consulting the work of Dr. Stuart, entitled—"Course of Hebrew Study." In the ninth chapter of his Essay, the author has made use of the discoveries of Champollion, to defeat certain objections to the genuineness and authenticity of the Books of Moses, which were started by Voltaire and others of his time. The high antiquity of the Pentateuch was doubted, on the ground that writing in the common language could not then have been known. Champollion has decyphered a manuscript, which contains an act of the fifth year of the reign of Thouthmosis III. This prince governed Egypt at a time when Joseph was carried there as a slave, and this was at least two hundred years previous to the time in which Moses wrote the Pentateuch.

An objection to the truth of the history of the Pentateuch, also, arose out of the circumstance, that the magnificence and excellence of the work said there to have been put upon the ark and its furniture in the wilderness, was utterly beyond the state of the arts at the time challenged in the relation. The discoveries of Champollion have overthrown a supposition which had been held almost indisputable, viz:—that the arts of Egypt had been indebted for their progress, to the influence of those from Greece under the domination of the Lagidæ kings. He has established the contrary, beyond doubt, and has proved that the most brilliant epoch of the arts in Egypt, was under a dynasty contemporary with the sojourn of the Israelites in Egypt.

The only remaining objection which is noticed by the author, is one which he considers as capable of receiving the same satisfactory solution.

It is objected that the name of Sesostris is not mentioned in Scripture, nor any feature of his history recognised. To this, the investigations made by Champollion and the calculations of Champollion Figeac are made to answer. The commencement of the reign of Sesostris is fixed by these, in the year 1473, B. C.; consequently, this was seventeen or eighteen years after the departure of the Israelites from Egypt. While they were wandering in the wilderness, Sesostris overran Palestine, which was then in possession of its primitive inhabitants, and before the Israelites reached that land, the expedition of Sesostris had long passed, for Diodorus tells us, that it terminated in the ninth year of his reign. The silence of Scripture, therefore, as to Sesostris, is in no wise remarkable, as the people of Israel had no connexion with him, either as friend or foe.

The tenth chapter of the Essay, relates to the Egyptian Zodiacs. To our readers who have examined the subject at all, the history of these is now familiar,—the curious may turn to the Number of this Journal for December, 1827, p. 520, where will be found an ample description.

We have thus given a detailed description of the Essay of Mons. Greppo, and we cannot resist the pleasure before we close, of presenting the few remarks with which he concludes his discussion.

"We come now to the conclusion of our undertaking. With the aid of the new discoveries in Egypt, we think that we have shed some light upon various passages of the sacred annals, and that we have resolved, in a more satisfactory manner, certain difficulties which were opposed to their veracity. We have attentively examined the resources which the writings and monuments of Egypt afford, in the interpretation and defence of a religion, whose lot has been, in all ages, to meet with enemies, when it should have found only admirers and disciples. But the researches to which we have been attending very naturally, as we think, give rise to a thought consoling to the Christian.

"Providence, whose operations are so sensibly exhibited in the whole physical constitution of the world, has not abandoned to chance the government of the moral or intellectual world. By means often imperceptible even to the eye of the man of observation, and which seem reserved for his own secret counsel, God directs second causes, gives them efficiency according to his will, and makes them serve, sometimes even contrary to their natural tendency, to accomplish his own immutable decrees, and to propagate and support that religion which he has revealed to us. It is in this way that, consistently with his own will, he delays or accelerates the march of human intellect; that he gives it a direction such as he pleases; that he causes discoveries to spring up in their time, as fruits ripen in their season; and that the revolutions which renew the sciences, like those which change the face of empires, enter into the plan which he traced out for himself from all eternity.

"Does not this sublime truth, which affords an inexhaustible subject of meditation to the well instructed and reflecting man, but which needs for its development the pen of a Bossuet,—does it not apply with great force to the subject that we have been considering?

"Since the studies of our age have been principally directed to the natural sciences, which the irreligious levity of the last age had so strangely abused to the prejudice of religion, we have seen the most admirable discoveries confirming the physical history of the primitive world, as it is given by Moses. It is sufficient to cite in proof of this fact, the geological labours of our celebrated Cuvier. Now that historic researches are pursued with a greater activity than ever before, and the monuments of antiquity illustrated by a judicious and promising criticism, Providence has also ordered, that the writings of ancient Egypt should in turn confirm the historic facts of the holy books: facts against which a systematic erudition had furnished infidelity with so many objections that were unceasingly repeated, though they had been a thousand times refuted. We cannot doubt that human knowledge, as it becomes more and more disengaged from the spirit of system, and pursues truth as its only aim, will still attain, as it advances, to other analogous results.

"Thus, as has been often said, revealed religion has no greater foe than ignorance. Far from making it her ally, as men who deny the testimony of all ages have not blushed to assert, she cannot but glory in the advance of the sciences. She has always favoured them, and it is chiefly owing to her influence, that they have been preserved in the midst of the barbarism from which she has rescued us. Thus the progress of true science, the progress of light (to use a legitimate though often abused expression,) far from being at variance with revealed religion, as its enemies have represented,—far from being dangerous to it, as some of its disciples have appeared to fear, tends, on the contrary, each day to strengthen its claims upon all enlightened minds, and to prove, in opposition to the pride of false science, that this divine religion, confirmed as it is by all the truths to which the human mind attains, is the truth of the Lord which endureth forever."

We have ventured upon this protracted notice of the Essay of Mons. Greppo, because the subject itself is one of gratifying pursuit even to the mere scholar, but still more because it is vitally connected with the evidences of revealed religion in which we hope that none of our readers are altogether uninterested. There is in the Essay, no question as to any of the minor points of the Christian faith,—there is here nothing but what all may peruse with satisfaction. The question is one entirely connected with evidence; and science and literature are pressed fairly into the service of truth. The work is peculiarly valuable, because it is the only work connected with the labours of Champollion which has been made to wear an English dress. The works of both the Champollions are locked up in a foreign language from most of our readers; and we fear that the time will not soon come when there will be sufficient encouragement either to translate or publish in this country the splendid volumes of these brothers, who are, by their discoveries, raising up for France the gratitude of the world. Until there shall be liberality enough in our republic of letters, to enable us to possess these works, with all their riches of illustration, and thus have ancient Egypt brought to the inspection of American eyes, we would recommend the work of Mons. Greppo, as the best, and indeed only substitute at present known, always excepting the pages of our own journal.

It is needless to say, that the merits of the translation cannot be questioned, after the testimonials furnished by the learned Dr. Stuart; without the advantage of comparing it with the original, we can speak of its excellence relatively, for the style is clear, concise, and classical.

Art. IV.—IRON.

1.—Memorial of the workers in iron of Philadelphia, praying that the present duty on imported iron may be repealed, &c.

2.—Report of the Select Committee (of the Senate of the United States,) to whom was referred "the petition of upwards of three hundred mechanics, Citizens of the City and County of Philadelphia, employed in the various branches of the manufacture of iron," and also, the petition of the "Journeymen blacksmiths of the City and County of Philadelphia, employed in manufacturing anchors and chain cables."

3.—Report of the minority of the Select Committee on certain memorials to reduce the duty on imported iron.

4.—Remarks of the majority of the Select Committee on the blacksmiths' petition in reply to the arguments of the minority.

5.—Manuel de la Metallurgie de fer par C. I. B. Karsten, traduit de l'Allemand, par F. I. Culman, seconde edition, entierement refondue, &c. 3 vols. 8vo. pp. 504, 496, & 488. Mme. Thirl: 1830: Metz.

6.—Voyage Metallurgique en Angleterre, par MM. Dufrenoy et Elie de Beaumont. 1 vol. 8vo. pp. 572. Bachelier: Paris: 1827.

The discussion contained in the petitions and legislative reports which we have prefixed to this article, is one of the most powerful interest, not merely to those concerned in the manufacture of iron, and the articles of commerce of which it is the material, but to the whole community. Iron, if the cheapest and most abundant, is intrinsically the most valuable of the metals. It may supersede, and gradually has, in its applications, superseded the greater part of the rest, and has taken the place of wood and stone in a great variety of mechanical structures; it is indispensable in the modern arts of the attack and defence of nations; and its possession is the distinctive difference between civilized man and the savage. Well was it said to Crœsus exhibiting his golden treasures, that he who possessed more iron, would speedily make himself master of them, and the truth of the maxim was even more powerfully verified, when the accumulated riches of the Aztecs and Incas were acquired at the cost of a few pounds of Toledo steel.

When we compare the state of manners and arts of the Mexicans and Peruvians with that of their Spanish conquerors, we are almost compelled to admit, that the possession of iron was perhaps the only real superiority in civilization which the latter possessed. Gunpowder played but a small part in the contests where handfuls of men routed myriads; the courage of the Indian warrior is not less firm than that of the descendant of the Goths.

The sciences and arts which are now the boast of European civilization, were then but awakening from a slumber of ages; in the latter, the workmanship of Europe was in many instances inferior to that of the new world, and in the former, to take as an instance that which occupies the highest place, astronomy, the civil year of the Mexicans was intercalated and restored to the solar, by a process more perfect than that we even now employ; and the latter was not introduced into Europe until half a century after the throne of Montezuma fell. The bloody human sacrifices which excited to such a degree the abhorrence of the conquerors, were not greater marks of savage cruelty, than were their own auto da fes, and the tortures inflicted on Guatemozin. Yet if not superior in bravery, in the arts, the sciences, and the more distinctive attribute of civilization, humanity, the possession of iron was sufficient to ensure the triumph of the Spaniards.

Of all the metallurgic arts, that by which iron is prepared from its ores, demands the greatest degree of practical skill, and is the most difficult to bring to perfection. Although ages have elapsed since it first became an object of human industry, its manipulation and preparation are yet receiving improvements, while those of the other ancient metals appear hardly susceptible of modification or advancement. Copper and its alloys, tin, lead, and mercury, were as well and as cheaply prepared by the ancients as by the moderns; and the reduction of the precious metals has received no important change, since the process of amalgamation was first applied to them,—while the preparation of iron is daily improving under our eyes, and its cost diminishing. It may even be doubted whether the iron we first find mentioned in history, was an artificial product, and not obtained from the rare masses in which it is found existing in the native state, and which are supposed to be of meteoric origin.

The original use of iron is ascribed in the sacred writings to Tubal Cain, who lived before the flood;—but we have no proof that he did not employ a native iron of this description. Be this as it may, the united testimony of antiquity exhibits to us an alloy of copper used for the purposes to which we apply iron, and the latter metal as comparatively scarce, and of high value. The qualities of iron were known and appreciated, but the art of preparing it was not understood. The reason is obvious; those ores of iron which have an external metallic aspect, are difficult of fusion and reduction, those which are more readily converted, are dull, earthy in their appearance, and unlikely to attract attention,—while gold and silver manifest in their native state their brilliant characters, and the ores of copper and lead exhibit a higher degree of lustre than the metals themselves.

If, then, history does not show us the ancient nations employing iron for their arms and instruments, it is because they were unable to prepare it. Even in the middle ages, we find copper in use for arms, because the nations that employed it, could not conquer the difficulties that attend the preparation of iron.

The books of Moses, however, show that iron was known at that era to the Egyptians, and the distinction he draws between it and brass, seems in favour of our view of the origin of that which was then employed. The stones of the promised land were to be iron, but brass was to be dug from the hills. Twelve hundred years before Christ, if we receive the testimony of Homer, who, if he be rejected as an historian, must still be admitted as a faithful painter of manners. The Greeks used an alloy of copper for their arms, but were unacquainted with iron, which they estimated of much higher value.

Αυταρ Πηλειδης θηχεν σολον αυτοχοωνον, Ον πριν μεν ριεπτασε μεγα σφενος Ηεβιωνος. Αλλα ητοι τον επεφνε ποδαρχος διος Αχιλλευς, Τον δ αγετ εννηεσσι συν αλλοισιν χτεατεσσιν. Στη δ ορθος χαι μυθον εν Αργειοισιν εειπεν. Ορνυσθ, οι χαι τουτου α εθλου πειρησησθε!

&c. Iliad, Book XXIII, 1. 826.

From this passage and the following lines, we learn the two-fold fact: 1. That a mass of iron of no greater weight than could be used as a quoit, by a man of great strength, was esteemed of sufficient value to be cited as an important article in the spoil of a prince: 2. That its use was confined to agricultural purposes, and not applied in war. Hence the more valuable form steel, and its tempering, were unknown.

Five hundred years later, Lycurgus attempted to introduce the use of iron, as money, into Sparta. The reasons usually cited for this act, do not seem to apply; and we ought not to accuse that lawgiver of the want of knowledge in political economy that is usually ascribed to him, in endeavouring to give a base material a conventional value to which it was not entitled. The iron was still, probably, more costly than brass, and the error of Lycurgus did not lie in ascribing to it a value beyond its actual cost, but in depriving it of the property of convertibility to useful purposes, which was necessary to maintain its price.

In the construction of the temple by Solomon, 130 years before the æra of Lycurgus, iron was employed in great abundance; and, from the cost lavished upon that building, we are almost warranted in considering it as still bearing a high value, even in that country, so far in the advance of Greece in the arts of civilized life.

Herodotus ascribes the discovery of the art of welding iron to Glaucus of Chio, 430 years before the Christian æra. But, before this period, the Greeks had carried the art of working it into Italy, Spain, and Africa; and the famous mines of Elba, that are still worked, were probably opened 700 years before Christ.

It is from the working of these mines that we are to date the introduction of iron in such abundance as to reduce its price, bring it into general use, and finally cause it to supersede wholly the alloys of copper. This ore is of extremely easy reduction, by processes of great simplicity, which furnish iron of excellent quality, and are, as we shall hereafter see, still in use. We cannot, indeed, infer with certainty, that these were the processes used by the ancients; but their simplicity is a strong argument in favour of their remote invention.

Steel seems to have been known as different in qualities from iron, at a very remote period; that is to say, it was understood that there were varieties of iron, which when tempered, became hard, whilst others remained soft. The intentional preparation of it, as a different species, seems to have taken its rise among the Chalybes, a people of Asia Minor, and it was afterwards obtained from Noricum. We still find in the latter country, (Styria,) an ore that furnishes steel, by processes as simple as those by which the iron is obtained from the ore of Elba, and hence can form some tolerable guess at the mode in which the steel of the ancients was obtained.

The third form in which we find iron as an article of commerce, namely, cast iron, is of far more recent origin. It has been traced to the banks of the Rhine, and it is certain that stove-plates were cast in Alsace in A. D. 1494. From this epoch, then, dates the great improvement in the preparation of iron, by which its price has been so far lessened, as to render it available for innumerable purposes, from which a small addition to its present cost would exclude it.

Iron, as may be inferred from what has been stated, is known in commerce in three distinct forms—wrought or bar iron, cast or pig iron, and steel. The received chemical theory on this subject is, that the former is metallic iron nearly in a pure state, and that the two latter are chemical compounds of iron and carbon. How far this is true will be examined in the sequel.

When wrought iron is nearly pure, it has, when in bars of not less than an inch square, or plates not less than half an inch in thickness, a granular structure. From the appearance of these grains, an estimate may be had of its quality; grains without any determinate form, neither presenting, when broken, crystalline faces, nor arranging themselves in plates; and which, in the fracture of the bar, exhibit points, and even filaments, manifesting the resistance they have opposed, are marks of the best quality. If, when broken, a crystalline character is exhibited, the quality is bad, and will, according to a disposition difficult to describe in words, either break under the hammer when heated, or be subject to rupture when cold. These two opposite defects are, in the language of our manufacturers, called red and cold short, or shear. The former fault unfits it for being easily worked; the latter destroys its most important usefulness. When the manufacture has been badly conducted, crystals will appear mingled with tenacious grains, and a want of uniform consistence will render it unfit for being cut and worked by the file. Iron of the latter character may, notwithstanding, possess great tenacity.

In still smaller bars, good iron, in breaking, exhibits filaments like those shown by a piece of green wood when broken across; this is technically called nerve; and as it does not show itself in larger bars, it has been supposed that it is the result of the process of drawing out the bars. This is partially true, although the iron that presents a crystalline structure will not acquire nerve, however frequently hammered. To obtain nerve in larger masses, it is necessary to form them of bundles of smaller bars, a process known under the name of faggoting.