———'sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day.'"15
———'sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day.'"15
15Mr. Binney.
His speech upon the case of Jonathan Robbins, was a striking example. This man, a subject of Great Britain, had committed a murder on board a British frigate, and then fled to the United States. Being demanded by the British Government, President Adams caused him to be surrendered, under a clause in Jay's treaty. The act was furiously assailed by the opposition: and a resolution of censure was introduced into the House of Representatives by Mr. Livingston. The speech of Mr. Marshall on this occasion was perhaps one of the most masterly ever delivered in Congress. "It has all the merits, and nearly all the weight of a judicial sentence."16"It may be said of that speech, as was said of Lord Mansfield's celebrated Answer to the Prussian Memorial, it wasReponse sans replique—an answer so irresistible, that it admitted of no reply. It silenced opposition; and settled then, and forever, the points of national law, upon which the controversy hinged."17
16Ib.
17Judge Story.
He was not in Congress when the famousSedition Lawpassed: but he had the merit of voting to repeal the most obnoxious section of it; in opposition to all those, with whom he generally concurred. In May, 1800, he was appointed Secretary of War: but before his entry upon the duties of that office, a rupture occurring between the President and Col. Pickering, he was made Secretary of State in lieu of the latter. It is honorable both to him and his predecessor, that the delicate position in which they stood towards each other, did not interrupt their harmony: but they retained, while both lived, a warm and cordial friendship. Even during the few months that he held this office, Mr. Marshall evinced great ability, in discussing several important questions between our country and England. "It is impossible to imagine a finer spirit, more fearless, more dignified, more conciliatory, more true to his country, than animates his instructions to Mr. King,"18the American Minister in London. "His despatch of September 20th, 1800, is a noble specimen of the first order of State papers, and shows the most finished adaptation of parts for the station of an American Secretary of State."19
18Mr. Binney.
19Ib.
On the 31st of January, 1801, he was appointed Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States: "not only without his own solicitation, (for he had in fact recommended another for the office,) but by the prompt and spontaneous choice of President Adams, upon his own unassisted judgment. The nomination was unanimously confirmed by the Senate."20
20Judge Story.
It is a remarkable, yet not an extraordinary fact, that his induction into that high office which he so illustriously filled, is precisely the juncture in his life at which, for the purposes of striking narrative, his biography ends. That part of his career, the most signalized by enduring monuments of his intellectual power, and the most adorned by the winning graces of his daily actions, is precisely that in which it is hardest to find glaring incidents, that stand forth boldly on the page, and rivet the reader's mind. "Peace" indeed, as Milton said to Cromwell,—
and few men have achieved more signal ones, than he who may be said to have built up a national Jurisprudence for the Union, by the strength of his own genius: but such triumphs ring not in the common ear, and glitter not in the common eye. Even History often forgets to chronicle them in her bloodstained page: that page, which is too mere a picture of crimes and misery—where the peaceful and innocent crowd never appear, but give place to the profligate votaries of perverted ambition—and which, like tragedy, is languid and distasteful, unless enlivened by atrocious deeds, and horrid sufferings.21We shall not attempt, then, to protract our account of the last thirty-five years of Judge Marshall's life. It was spent in the diligent, and upright, as well as able discharge of his official duties; sometimes presiding in the Supreme Court at Washington, sometimes assisting to hold theCircuit Federal Courts, in Virginia, and North Carolina. His residence was in Richmond, whence it was his frequent custom to walk out, a distance of three or four miles, to his farm, in the county of Henrico. He also had a farm in his native county, Fauquier; which he annually visited, and where he always enjoyed a delightful intercourse with numerous relations and friends. Twice, in these thirty-five years, he may be said to have mingled in political life, but not in party politics.
21"En effet l'histoire n'est que le tableau des crimes et des malheurs: la foule des hommes innocents et paisibles disparait toujours sur ces vastes théâtres: les personnages ne sont que des ambitieux pervers. Il semble que l'histoire ne plaise que comme la tragedie, qui languit si elle n'est animée par les passions, les forfaits, et les grandes infortunes."—L'Ingenu, Ch. 10.
In 1828, he was delegated, with others from the city of Richmond, to a convention held in Charlottesville, for the purpose of devising a proper system of internal improvements, for the State; to be recommended to the Legislature: and he took a becoming part in the deliberations of that enlightened body.
In 1829, he was chosen to represent the city in the Convention which met in October of that year, to revise and amend the State Constitution. Here was exhibited a spectacle, one of the most affecting in our day, of three men—Madison, Monroe, and Marshall,—who having assisted in establishing the liberties and creating the government of their country, and having filled her highest stations, were now consulting with a later generation, upon the means of rendering that governmentpurer, more durable, and more productive of happiness. Mr. Monroe was nominated by Mr. Madison as President of the Convention; and, having been unanimously chosen, was conducted by Mr. Madison and Mr. Marshall to the chair. During the three months of the session, Judge Marshall repeatedly engaged in debate: displaying still that power of reasoning, with that bland courtesy of manner, which had always distinguished him. His voice was now become extremely feeble; so that those who sat far off could not hear him: no sooner therefore did he rise, than the members would press towards him, and strain with outstretched necks and eager ears, to catch his words. The basis of representation, and the structure of the judiciary, were the subjects upon which he chiefly spoke. The difficulties of adjusting the former, so as to satisfy both the east and the west—the irritated feelings which began to appear on both sides—and the imminent dread which the patriot felt, of a division of the state—will not soon be forgotten. It was when acompromiseof the difference was proposed, that the Chief Justice displayed his greatest power. Towards the close of a speech, which was at the time regarded as an unrivalled specimen of lucid and conclusive reasoning, he said, he "hailed that auspicious appearance, with all the joy with which an inhabitant of the polar regions hails the re-appearance of the sun, after his long absence of six tedious months." It was of a position maintained by him in this speech, and which, an opposing orator said, had beenoverthrownby Mr. —— of Augusta, that John Randolph declared, "The argument of the Chief Justice is unshaken, and unanswerable. It is as strong as the fortress of Gibraltar. Sir, the fortress of Gibraltar would be as much injured bybattering it with a pocket pistol, as that argument has been affected by the abortive and puny assault of the gentleman from Augusta." The great Roanoke orator's esteem and admiration for the Chief Justice (although, on federal politics, they widely differed) amounted almost to idolatry. An amicable contest between them one day, on the floor of the Convention, furnished him an occasion for paying to the latter a tribute as beautiful, as it was simple and just. The Chief Justice, thinking that some remark of his had been understood by Mr. Randolph as personally unkind, arose with earnestness to assure him that it was not so intended. Mr. R. as earnestly strove to quiet Judge M.'s uneasiness, by assuring him that he had not understood the remark as offensive. In their eagerness, the one to apologize, and the other to show that no apology was necessary, they interrupted each other two or three times: at length Mr. R. effectually silenced his friend, by saying, "I know the goodness of his heart too well to have supposed it possible that he could have intended to give me pain. Sir, I believe, that like 'My Uncle Toby,'he would not even hurt a fly."
A visiter in Richmond during the Convention, being at the market one morning before sunrise, saw the Chief Justice of the United States, in the blue-mixed woollen stockings and the plain black suit (far from superfine) which he usually wore, striding along between the rows of meat and vegetables, catering for his household; and depositing his purchases in a basket, carried by a servant. But it was his frequent custom to go on this errand, unattended; and nothing was more usual, than to see him returning from market at sunrise, with poultry in one hand, and a basket of vegetables in the other. So beautifully, by a simplicity which pervaded his words, his actions, his whole life, did he illustrate the character of a republican citizen and magistrate!
No man more highly relished social, and even convivial enjoyments. He was a member of the club, which for 48 summers has met once a fortnight near Richmond, to pitch quoits and mingle in relaxing conversation: and there was not one more delightedly punctual in his attendance at these meetings, or who contributed more to their pleasantness: scarcely one, who excelled him in the manly game, from which the "Quoit-Club" drew its designation. He would hurl his iron ring of two pound's weight, with rarely erring aim, fifty-five or sixty feet; and, at somechef-d'œuvreof skill in himself or hispartner, would spring up and clap his hands, with all the light-hearted enthusiasm of boyhood. Such is the old age, which follows a temperate, an innocent, and a useful life! We extract from the American Turf Register of 1829, the following entertaining account of this Club.
During a recent visit to Richmond, in Virginia, I was invited to a "Barbecue Club," held under the shade of some fine oaks, near "Buchanan's Spring," about a mile distant from the town. I there met with about thirty of the respectable inhabitants of Richmond, with a few guests. The day was a fine one, and the free and social intercourse of the members rendered it peculiarly pleasant.
This Club is probably the most ancient one of the sort in the United States, having existed upwards of forty years. It originated in a meeting, every other Saturday, from the first of May until the month of October, of some of the Scotch merchants who were early settlers in that town. They agreed each to take out some cold meats for their repast, and to provide a due quantity of drinkables, and enjoy relaxation in that way after the labors of the week. They occasionally invited some others of the inhabitants, who finding the time passed pleasantly, proposed in the year 1788 to form a regular club, consisting of thirty members, under a written constitution, limiting their expenses each day by a sort of sumptuary law which prohibited the use of wine and porter.
The Virginians, you know, have always been greatlimitariansas to constitutional matters. Whenever a member died or resigned, (but there have been very few resignations,) his place was filled by balloting for a new one, who could not be elected without the concurrence of two-thirds of the club. It is said that for many years no vacancy occurred, and a sort of superstitious sentiment was prevalent, that to become a member of the club, was to insure longevity. The Arch Destroyer, however, at length appeared in all his strength, and made such havoc, that only one of the original members (the venerable Chief Justice of the United States,) is now surviving.
The club consists of judges, lawyers, doctors, and merchants, and the Governor of the Commonwealth has a general invitation when he enters into office. What gave additional interest to this body, some years ago, was the constant attendance (as honorary members) of two venerable clergymen—one of the Episcopal, and the other of the Presbyterian church, who joined in the innocent pastime of the day. They were pious and exemplary men, who discerned no sin in harmless gaiety. Quoits and backgammon are the only games indulged in, and one of the clergymen was for many years "cock of the walk" in throwing thediscus. They are gone to their account, and have left a chasm that has not been filled.
Some years ago, an amendment was made to the constitution, which admits the use of porter. Great opposition was made to this innovation, and the destruction of the club was predicted as the consequence. The oppositionists, however, soon became as great consumers of malt and hops as their associates, and now they even consent to the introduction of wine at the last meeting of every year, provided there be "a shot in the locker." The members each advance ten dollars to the treasurer at the beginning of the season, and every member is entitled to invite anystrangers as guests, on paying into the general fund one dollar for each; while the caterers of the day, consisting of two members in rotation, preside, and have the privilege of bringing each a guest (either citizen or non-resident,) at free cost. On the day I was present, dinner was ready at half past three o'clock, and consisted of excellent meats and fish, well prepared and well served, with the vegetables of the season. Your veritable gourmand never fails to regale himself on his favoritebarbecue—which is a fine fat pig, called "shoot," cooked on the coals, and highly seasoned with cayenne—a dessert of melons and fruits follows, and punch, porter and toddy are the table liquors; but with the fruits comes on the favorite beverage of the Virginians, mint julep, in place of wine. I never witnessed more festivity and good humor than prevail at this club. By the constitution, the subject of politics is forbidden, and each man strives to make the time pleasant to his companions. The members think they can offer no higher compliment to a distinguished stranger, than to introduce him to the club, and all feel it a duty to contribute to his entertainment. It was refreshing to see such a man as Chief Justice Marshall, laying aside the reserve of his dignified station, and contending with the young men at a game of quoits, with all the emulation of a youth.
Many anecdotes are told of occurrences at these meetings. Such is the partiality for the Chief Justice, that it is said the greatest anxiety is felt for his success in the game by the bystanders; and on one occasion an old Scotch gentleman was called on to decide between his quoit and that of another member, who after seemingly careful measurement, announced, "MisterMareshallhas it aleattle," when it was visible to all that the contrary was the fact. A French gentleman (Baron Quenet,) was at one time a guest, when the Governor, the Chief Justice, and several of the Judges of the High Court of Appeals, were engaged with others,with coats off, in a well-contested game. He asked, "if it was possible that the dignitaries of the land could thus intermix with private citizens," and when assured of the fact, he observed, with true Gallican enthusiasm, that "he had never before seen the real beauty of republicanism."
In Judge Marshall's yearly visits to Fauquier, where the proper implements of his favorite sport were not to be had, he still practised it among his rustic friends, withflat stonesfor quoits. A casual guest at abarbecuein that county—one of those rural entertainments so frequent among the country people of Virginia—soon after his arrival at the spot, saw an old man emerge from a thicket which bordered the neighboring brook, carrying as large a pile of these flat stones as he could hold between his right arm and his chin: he stepped briskly up to the company, and threw down his load among them, exclaiming, "There! Here are quoits enough for us all!" The stranger's surprise may be imagined, when he found that this plain and cheerful old man was the Chief Justice of the United States! Nor was thebonhommie, with which he could descend to the level of common life, restricted to his intercourse with men and women: he was often a pleasing companion even to children. One, whose first recollection of him referred to his triumphal entry (for such it was) into Richmond, on his return from France, and who, as a printer's boy, afterwards for several years was carrier of a newspaper to him, describes him as "remarkably fond of boys' company—always chatty—and always pleasant." The reminiscent, having been transferred to Washington in 1800, while Mr. M. was Secretary of State, says, "again did the pleasing office of serving him with the 'Washington Federalist' devolve on me. He resided in a brick building hardly larger than most of the kitchens now in use. I found him still the same plain, unostentatious John Marshall: always accessible, and always with a smile on his countenance when I handed him the 'Federalist.' His kindness of manner won my affections; and I became devotedly attached to him."
Even from this early period the reminiscent may date the commencement of an intercourse and correspondence with the Chief Justice, which endured uninterruptedly for many years, until the period of his lamented death. The unaffected and childlike simplicity of manner, action, and thought which pervaded, as the sunlight pervades the atmosphere, every moment of this truly great man's existence, and which, indeed, formed, in no little degree, the basis of his greatness, sufficed to render the intercourse of which we speak, an intercourse of the most kindly, unembarrassed, and intimate nature; and one which afforded opportunities for a more particular knowledge of the strictly private and familiar habitudes of the man, than has fallen to the lot of many who, perhaps, were better entitled to his confidence. The reminiscent would here acknowledge, not only with gratitude, but with pride, the innumerable, yet unobtrusive acts of generous assistance and advice, for which he is indebted to the friendship of Chief Justice Marshall.
When, to all these engaging traits of character, we add that his charitable benefactions were as large as his mind, and as unostentatious as his life; and that in his dealings he was so scrupulously just, as always to prefer his own loss to the possibility of his wronging another; it can be no wonder, that despite the unpopularity of his federo-political opinions, he was the most beloved and esteemed of all men in Virginia.
The influence of Judge Marshall upon the decisions of the Supreme Court, in cases requiring a determination of the limits set by the Constitution to federal power, will be deemed salutary or pernicious, according as the mind which contemplates it is biassed towards the one or the other school of opinions on that subject—towards thestrict, or towards theliberal(what its opponents term thelicentious) construction. Having been profoundly—perhaps exaggeratedly—impressed with a dread of the evils attending a feeble government for the Union, he had advocated the new Constitution originally, and maintained theliberalinterpretation of it afterwards, as indispensable to the integrity and wholesome action of our system. Opinions which he had thus held for thirteen years, and which had become fixed more and more deeply in his mind by his numberless able vindications of them, he could not be expected to throw aside when he ascended the Bench. They pervaded his decisions there; and such was the influence of his gigantic intellect, that, although, as Chief Justice, his vote had no more legal authority than that of any other Judge, and although most of his associates were deemed, at their appointments, maintainers of thestrict construction,—the Supreme Court took its tone from him; and in almost every instance where the controversy turned upon the boundaries betweenfederalandstateauthority, as fixed by the Constitution, its determination tended to enlarge the former, and to circumscribe the latter. Never, probably, did any judge, who had six associates equal to himself in judicial authority, so effectually stamp their adjudications with the impress of his own mind. This may be read, in the generous pleasure with which the best and ablest22of those associates dwells upon theinestimable service done to the country, in establishing a code of Constitutional Law so perfect, that "His proudest epitaph may be written in a single line—Here lies the Expounder of the Constitution of the United States." It may be read in the glowing page, where Mr. Binney, resolving the glory of the Court in having "explained, defended and enforced the Constitution," into the merits of its presiding judge, declares himself "lost in admiration of the man, and in gratitude to Heaven for his beneficent life." It may be read in the many volumes of Reports, where, whensoever a question of constitutional law was to be determined, the opinion of Judge Marshall is found, almost without exception, to be the opinion of the Supreme Court.
22Judge Story.
We shall make but one more extract from Mr. Binney's admirable Eulogy.
He was endued by nature with a patience that was never surpassed;—patience to hear that which he knew already, that which he disapproved, that which questioned himself. When he ceased to hear, it was not because his patience was exhausted, but because it ceased to be a virtue.
His carriage in the discharge of his judicial business, was faultless. Whether the argument was animated or dull, instructive or superficial, the regard of his expressive eye was an assurance that nothing that ought to affect the cause, was lost by inattention or indifference; and the courtesy of his general manner was only so far restrained on the Bench, as was necessary for the dignity of office, and for the suppression of familiarity.
His industry and powers of labor, when contemplated in connection with his social temper, show a facility that does not generally belong to parts of such strength. There remain behind him nearly thirty volumes of copiously reasoned decisions, greater in difficulty and labor, than probably have been made in any other court during the life of a single judge! yet he participated in them all; and in those of greatest difficulty, his pen has most frequently drawn up the judgment; and in the midst of his judicial duties, he composed and published in the year 1804, a copious biography of Washington, surpassing in authenticity and minute accuracy, any public history with which we are acquainted. He found time also to revise it, and to publish a second edition, separating the History of the American Colonies from the Biography, and to prepare with his own pen an edition of the latter for the use of schools. Every part of it is marked with the scrupulous veracity of a judicial exposition; and it shows moreover, how deeply the writer was imbued with that spirit which will live after all the compositions of men shall be forgotten,—the spirit of charity, which could indite a history of the Revolution and of parties, in which he was a conspicuous actor, without discoloring his pages with the slightest infusion of gall. It could not be written with more candor an hundred years hence. It has not been challenged for the want of it, but in a single instance, and that has been refuted by himself with irresistible force of argument, as well as with unexhausted benignity of temper.
To qualities such as these, he joined an immoveable firmness befitting the office of presiding judge, in the highest tribunal of the country. It was not the result of excited feeling, and consequently never rose or fell with the emotions of the day. It was the constitution of his nature, and sprung from the composure of a mind undisturbed by doubt, and of a heart unsusceptible of fear. He thought not of the fleeting judgments and commentaries of men; and although he was not indifferent to their approbation, it was not the compass by which he was directed, nor the haven in which he looked for safety.
His learning was great, and his faculty of applying it of the very first order.
But it is not by these qualities that he is so much distinguished from the judges of his time. In learning and industry, in patience, firmness, and fidelity, he has had his equals. But there is no judge, living or dead, whose claims are disparaged by assigning the first place in the department of constitutional law to Chief Justice Marshall.
For several years past, Judge Marshall had suffered under a most excruciating malady. A surgical operation by Dr. Physick of Philadelphia, at length procured him relief; but a hurt received in travelling, last spring, seems to have caused a return of the former complaint, with circumstances of aggravated pain and danger. Having revisited Philadelphia, in the hope of again finding a cure, his disease there overpowered him; and he died, on the 6th of July, 1835, in the 80th year of his age, surrounded by three of his children. His eldest son, Thomas, journeying to attend his death bed, had been killed by the fall of a chimney in Baltimore, but eight days before.
The love of simplicity and the dislike of ostentation, which had marked Chief Justice Marshall's life, displayed itself also in his last days. Apprehensive that his remains might be encumbered with the vain pomp of a costly monument and a laudatory epitaph, he, only two days before his death, directed the common grave of himself and his consort, to be indicated by a plain stone, with this simple and modest inscription:
"John Marshall, son of Thomas and Mary Marshall, was born on the 24th of September, 1755, intermarried with Mary Willis Ambler the 3d of January, 1783, departed this life the —— day of —— 18—."
All the just renown with which his great name might have been emblazoned, simplified into the three circumstances, ofbirth,marriage, anddeath, which would equally suit the grave-stone of the humblest villager!
We cannot better conclude this article than by copying two delineations of its subject, sketched by hands which, years before him, were mouldering in the grave: sketched, it seems to us, with so much elegance and truth, that any extended account of Judge Marshall could hardly be deemed complete without them. The first was drawn thirty years ago: the other, less than twenty.
"The ..... ....... of the United States," says Mr. Wirt, inThe British Spy, "is, in his person, tall, meager, emaciated: his muscles relaxed, and his joints so loosely connected, as not only to disqualify him, apparently, for any vigorous exertion of body, but to destroy every thing like harmony in his air and movements. Indeed, in his whole appearance, and demeanor; dress, attitudes, gesture; sitting, standing, or walking; he is as far removed from the idolized graces of Lord Chesterfield, as any other gentleman on earth. His head and face are small in proportion to his height: his complexion swarthy; the muscles of his face, being relaxed, make him appear to be fifty years of age, nor can he be much younger: his countenance has a faithful expression of great good humor and hilarity; while his black eyes—that unerring index—possess an irradiating spirit, which proclaims the imperial powers of the mind that sits enthroned within.
"This extraordinary man, without the aid of fancy, without the advantages of person, voice, attitude, gesture, or any of the ornaments of an orator, deserves to be considered as one of the most eloquent men in the world; if eloquence may be said to consist in the power of seizing the attention with irresistible force, and never permitting it to elude the grasp, until the hearer has received the conviction which the speaker intends.
"His voice is dry and hard; his attitude, in his most effective orations, was often extremely awkward; while all his gesture proceeded from his right arm, and consisted merely in a perpendicular swing of it, from aboutthe elevation of his head, to the bar, behind which he was accustomed to stand.
"As to fancy, if she hold a seat in his mind at all, his gigantic genius tramples with disdain, on all her flower-decked plats and blooming parterres. How then, you will ask, how is it possible, that such a man can hold the attention of an audience enchained, through a speech of even ordinary length? I will tell you.
"He possesses one original, and almost supernatural faculty: the faculty of developing a subject by a single glance of his mind, and detecting at once, the very point on which every controversy depends. No matter, what the question: though ten times more knotty than 'the gnarled oak,' the lightning of heaven is not more rapid or more resistless, than his astonishing penetration. Nor does the exercise of it seem to cost him an effort. On the contrary, it is as easy as vision. I am persuaded, that his eyes do not fly over a landscape and take in its various objects with more promptitude and facility, than his mind embraces and analyzes the most complex subject.
"Possessing while at the bar, this intellectual elevation, which enabled him to look down and comprehend the whole ground at once, he determined immediately and without difficulty, on which side the question might be most advantageously approached and assailed. In a bad cause, his art consisted in laying his premises so remotely from the point directly in debate, or else in terms so general and so specious, that the hearer, seeing no consequence which could be drawn from them, was just as willing to admit them as not; but, his premises once admitted, the demonstration, however distant, followed as certainly, as cogently, as inevitably, as any demonstration in Euclid.
"All his eloquence consists in the apparently deep self-conviction, and emphatic earnestness of his manner; the correspondent simplicity and energy of his style; the close and logical connexion of his thoughts; and the easy gradations by which he opens his lights on the attentive minds of his hearers. The audience are never permitted to pause for a moment. There is no stopping to weave garlands of flowers, to hang in festoons, around a favorite argument. On the contrary, every sentence is progressive; every idea sheds new light on the subject; the listener is kept perpetually in that sweetly pleasurable vibration, with which the mind of man always receives new truths; the dawn advances with easy but unremitting pace; the subject opens gradually on the view; until, rising, in high relief, in all its native colors and proportions, the argument is consummated, by the conviction of the delighted hearer."
The following observations on the intellectual character of Judge Marshall, are from the pen of FRANCISW. GILMER—one who, had he not been prematurely cut off by the hand of death, would have ranked with the foremost men of his age and country.
"His mind is not very richly stored with knowledge; but it is so creative, so well organized by nature, or disciplined by early education, and constant habits of systematic thinking, that he embraces every subject with the clearness and facility of one prepared by previous study to comprehend and explain it. So perfect is his analysis, that he extracts the whole matter, the kernel of inquiry, unbroken, clean, and entire. In this process, such are the instinctive neatness and precision of his mind, that no superfluous thought, or even word, ever presents itself, and still he says every thing that seems appropriate to the subject. This perfect exemption from needless incumbrance of matter or ornament, is in some degree the effect of an aversion to the labor of thinking. So great a mind, perhaps, like large bodies in the physical world, is with difficulty set in motion. That this is the case with Mr. Marshall's, is manifest, from his mode of entering on an argument, both in conversation and in public debate. It is difficult to rouse his faculties: he begins with reluctance, hesitation, and vacancy of eye: presently, his articulation becomes less broken, his eye more fixed, until, finally, his voice is full, clear, and rapid, his manner bold, and his whole face lighted up, with the mingled fires of genius and passion: and he pours forth the unbroken stream of eloquence, in a current deep, majestic, smooth and strong. He reminds one of some great bird, which flounders and flounces on the earth for a while, before it acquiresimpetusto sustain its soaring flight."
EMILIA HARRINGTON.
EMILIA HARRINGTON.
The Confessions of Emilia Harrington. By Lambert A. Wilmer. Baltimore.
This is a duodecimo of about two hundred pages. We have read it with that deep interest always excited by works written in a similar manner—be the subject matter what it may—works in which the author utterly loses sight of himself in his theme, and, for the time, identifies his own thoughts and feelings with the thoughts and feelings of fictitious existences. Than the power of accomplishing this perfect identification, there is no surer mark of genius. It is the spell of Defoe. It is the wand of Boccacio. It is the proper enchantment of the Arabian Tales—the gramarye of Scott, and the magic of the Bard of Avon. Had, therefore, the Emilia Harrington of Mr. Wilmer not one other quality to recommend it, we should have been satisfied of the author's genius from the simpleverisimilitudeof his narrative. Yet, unhappily, books thus written are not the books by which men acquire a contemporaneous reputation. What we said on this subject in the last number of the Messenger, may be repeated here without impropriety. We spoke of the Robinson Crusoe. "What better possible species of fame could the author have desired for that book than the species which it has so long enjoyed? It has become a household thing in nearly every family in Christendom. Yet never was admiration of any work—universal admiration—more indiscriminately or more inappropriately bestowed. Not one person in ten—nay, not one person in five hundred has, during the perusal of Robinson Crusoe, the most remote conception that any particle of genius, or even of common talent, has been employed in its creation. Men do not look upon it in the light of a literary performance. Defoe has none of their thoughts; Robinson all. The powers which have wrought the wonder, have been thrown into obscurity by the very stupendousness of the wonder they have wrought. We read, and become perfect abstractions in the intensity of our interest—we close the book, and are quite satisfied we could have written as well ourselves."
Emilia Harrington will render essential services to virtue in the unveiling of the deformities of vice. Thisis a deed of no questionable utility. We fully agree with our author that ignorance of wrong is not security for the right; and Mr. Wilmer has obviated every possible objection to the "Confessions," by a so cautious wording of his disclosures as not to startle, in warning, the virtuous. That the memoirs are not wholly fictitious is more than probable. There is much internal evidence of authenticity in the book itself, and the preface seems to hint that a portion at least of the narrative is true—yet for the sake of human nature it is to be hoped thatsomepassages are overcolored. Thestyleof Mr. Wilmer is not only good in itself, but exceedingly well adapted to his subjects. The letter toAugustus Harringtonis vigorously written, and many long extracts might be taken from the book evincing powers of no ordinary kind.
Within a circle ofprivatefriends, whom Mr. Wilmer's talents and many virtues have attached devotedly to himself, and among whom we are very proud in being ranked, his writings have been long properly appreciated, and we sincerely hope the days are not far in futurity when he will occupy that full station in thepubliceye to which his merits so decidedly entitle him. Our readers must all remember the touching linesTo Mira, in the first number of our second volume—lines which called forth the highest encomiums from many whose opinions are of value. Their exquisite tenderness of sentiment—their vein of deep andunaffectedmelancholy—and their antique strength, and high polish of versification, struck us, upon a first perusal, with force, and subsequent readings have not weakened the impression. Mr. W. has written many other similar things. Among his longer pieces we may particularizeMerlin, a drama—some portions of which are full of the truest poetic fire. His prose tales and other short publications are numerous; and as Editor of the Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post, he has boldly and skilfully asserted the rights of independent criticism, speaking, in all instances—the truth. His Satiric Odes in the Post, over the signature ofHorace in Philadelphia, have attracted great attention, and have been deservedly admired.
We copy with true pleasure from the editorial columns of a Baltimore contemporary, (for whose opinions we have the highest respect, even when they differ from our own,) the following notice ofEmilia Harrington. It will supersede the necessity of any farther comment from ourselves.
"This book is one of a class the publication of which is considered by many as objectionable. The lifting up of the veil which covers crime; crime of the most disgusting and debasing character—is thought by moralists of the present day to be an act of questionable utility. This opinion has gained strength from the intemperate zeal of too many who have thought fit to publish flauntingly to the world the result of their startling discoveries while penetrating the haunts of corruption and vice, instead of silently moving on in the cause of Christian benevolence, and, when called upon for disclosures, giving information in such a way as not to startle the virtuous into shrinking, nor cause the vicious to raise the hue and cry against them. From the objection of ultraism the 'Confessions' are to a great extent free—although in some few instances the author has allowed himself a latitude which it would have been as well not to have taken.
"Apart from the character of the book, it possesses for us no trifling interest. Our thoughts run back continually from its pages to the gifted young author, prematurely gray; nor can we conquer a gathering sadness of feeling as we contemplate him bending wearily beneath the accumulating weight of adverse circumstances—broken in spirit, and yet uncomplaining. That the writer of this book possesses talents of an order far superior to many of twice his reputation, we have long been convinced, and yet he is scarcely known. Ten years ago his promise of future success in the walks of literary fame was flattering, almost beyond example; but, who can struggle against the ills of life—its cares, its privations and disappointments—with the added evils which petty jealousy and vindictive malice bring in to crush the spirit,—and not, in the very feebleness of humanity, grow weak and weary. And thus it seems in a measure to have been with the author of this book; he has not now the healthy vigor which once marked his production—the playful humor, nor the sparkling wit; and why—as continual dropping will wear away the hardest rock, so will continued neglect, and disappointment, and care, wear away the mind's healthy tone and strength of action. And yet, after all, may we not be mistaken in this. Is not the unobtrusive volume before us a strong evidence of unfailing powers of mind, which, though aiming at no brilliant display, acts with order, conciseness, and a nicely balanced energy? It is even so. One great attribute of genius is its power of identifying itself with its hero, and never losing sight of all the relations which it now holds to the world in its new character; and this identity has been well kept up by Mr. Wilmer—so much so, that in but few instances do we forget that the writer is other than the heroine of the tale."
AMERICAN IN ENGLAND.
AMERICAN IN ENGLAND.
The American in England. By the Author of "A Year in Spain." 2 vols. New York. Harper and Brothers.
Lieutenant Slidell's very excellent book, "A Year in Spain," was in some danger of being overlooked by his countrymen when a benignant star directed Murray's attention to its merits. Fate and Regent Street prevailed. Cockney octavos carried the day. A man is nothing if not hot-pressed; and the clever young writer who was cut dead in his Yankee-land habiliments, met with bows innumerable in the gala dress of a Londonimprimatur. The "Year in Spain" well deserved the popularity thus inauspiciously attained. It was the work of a man of genius; and passing through several editions, prepared the public attention for any subsequent production of its author. As regards "The American in England," we have not only read it with deep interest from beginning to end, but have been at the trouble of seeking out and perusing a great variety of criticaldictaconcerning it. Nearly all of these are in its favor, and we are happy in being able to concur heartily with the popular voice—if indeed thesedictabe its echoes.
We have somewhere said—or we should have somewhere said—that the old adage about "Truth in a well" (we mean the adage in its modern and improper—not in its antique and proper acceptation) should be swallowedcum grano salisat times. To be profound is not always to be sensible. The depth of an argument is not, necessarily, its wisdom—this depth lying where Truth is sought more often than where she is found. As the touches of a painting which, to minute inspection, are 'confusion worse confounded' will not fail to start boldly out to the cursory glance of a connoisseur—or as a star may be seen more distinctly in a sidelong survey than in any direct gaze however penetrating andintense—so there are, not unfrequently, times and methods, in which, and by means of which, a richer philosophy may be gathered on the surface of things than can be drawn up, even with great labor,c profundis. It appears to us that Mr. Slidell has written a wiser book than his neighbors merely by not disdaining to write a more superficial one.
The work is dedicated to John Duer, Esq. The Preface is a very sensible and a sufficiently well-written performance, in which the Lieutenant while "begging, at the outset, to be acquitted of any injurious prejudices" still pleads guilty to "that ardent patriotism which is the common attribute of Americans, a feeling of nationality inherited with the laws, the language, and the manners of the country from which we derive our origin, and which is sanctioned not less by the comparison of the blessings we enjoy with those of other lands, than by the promptings of good feeling, and the dictates of good taste." It is in the body of the book, however, that we must seek, and where we shall most assuredly find, strong indications of a genius not the less rich, rare, and altogether estimable for the simplicity of itsmodus operandi.
Commencing with his embarkation at New York, our author succeeds, at once, in rivetting the attention of his readers bya succession of minute details. But there is this vast difference between the details of Mr. Slidell, and the details of many of his contemporaries. They—the many—impressed, apparently, with the belief that mere minuteness is sufficient to constitute force, and that to be accurate is, of necessity, to be verisimilar—have not hesitated in putting in upon their canvass all theactuallines which might be discovered in their subject. This Mr. Slidell has known better than to do. He has felt that the apparent, not the real, is the province of a painter—and thatto give(speaking technically)the idea of any desired object, the toning down, or the utter neglect of certain portions of that object is absolutely necessary to the proper bringing out of other portions—portions by whose sole instrumentality the idea of the object is afforded. With a fine eye then for the picturesque, and with that strong sense of propriety which is inseparable from true genius, our American has crossed the water, dallied a week in London, and given us, as the result of his observations, a few masterly sketches, with all the spirit, vigor, raciness and illusion of a panorama.
Very rarely have we seen any thing of the kind superior to the "American in England." The interest begins with the beginning of the book, and abides with us, unabated, to the end. From the scenes in the Yankee harbor, to the departure of the traveller from England, his arrival in France, and installment among the comforts of the Hotel Quillacq, all is terse, nervous, brilliant and original. The review of the ship's company, in the initial chapter of the book is exceedingly entertaining. The last character thus introduced is so peculiarly sketched that we must copy what the author says about him. It will serve to exemplify some of our own prior remarks.
"Let me not forget to make honorable mention of the white-headed little raggamuffin who was working his passage, and who, in this capacity, had the decks to sweep, ropes to haul, chickens and pigs to feed, the cow to milk, and the dishes to wash, as well as all other jobs to do that belonged to no one in particular. As a proof of good will, he had chopped off the tails of a dandy, velvet-collared, blue coat, with the cook's axe, the very first day out. This was performed at the windlass-bits, in full conclave of the crew, and I suspected at the suggestion of a roguish man-of-war's-man, a shipmate of mine. The tails were cut just below the pocket flaps, which gave them a sort of razee look, and, in conjunction with the velvet collar, made the oddest appearance in the world, as he would creep, stern first, out of the long-boat after milking the cow. Blow high or blow low, the poor boy had no time to be sea-sick. Sometimes he would get adrift in the lee scuppers and roll over in the water, keeping fast hold of the plates he was carying to the galley."
Some incidents at sea—such as the narrow escape from running down a brig, and the imminent danger incurred by an English pilot—are told with all the gusto of a seaman. Among other fine passages we may particularize an account of British sailors on shore at Portsmouth—of a family group on board a steamer—of the appearance of the Kentish coast—of the dangers of the Thames—of the Dover coach—of some groups in a London coffee-room—of a stand of hackney-coaches—of St. James' Park—of a midnight scene in the streets—of the Strand—of Temple-Bar—of St. Paul's and the view from the summit—of Rothschild—of Barclay and Perkins' Brewery—of the Thames' Tunnel—of the Tower—of the Zoological Gardens—of Robert Owen—of the habits of retired citizens—and of the rural tastes of Englishmen. A parallel between Regent Street and Broadway brings the two thoroughfares with singular distinctness to the eye of the mind—and in the way of animated and vivid description we can, at this moment, remember nothing in the whole range of fact or fiction much superior to the Lieutenant's narrative of his midnight entrance into London. Indeed we can almost pardon a contemporary for speaking of this picture as sublime. A small portion of it we copy—but no just idea of its total effect can be thus gathered—an effect depending in a great measure upon the gradual manner in which it is brought about.
"I know nothing more exhilirating than to be suddenly ushered in the night into a populous quarter of a great city. My recollection readily conjures up the impressions made upon me under similar circumstances in entering Paris, Madrid, Brussels, Milan, or gay and lively Naples. The lower classes, with their good humor, their quaint drollery and sprightliness, there offer the most agreeable objects of contemplation. Here, however, there was in the corresponding classes nothing pleasing, or even picturesque. All seemed in search of food, of the means of intemperance, and of gratifying low and brutal passions. The idea of amusement had evidently no place. The streets swarmed with abandoned women, filthy in their dress, open, brutal, and indecent in their advances. In the places of the guitar, the serenade, the musical cries of chesnut-women, lemonade-sellers, and watermen, the sounds here were harsh and grating: uttered in words ill pronounced and nasally prolonged, or in an unintelligible and discordant slang which I no longer recognized as belonging to my own language. In the place of skilful musicians performing the favorite airs of Mozart or Rossini, or the witty colloquies of the sententious Punchinello, the poor were invited, in the nasal twang of clamorous mountebanks to amuse themselves by a sight of the latest cases of seduction, murder, suicide, and hanging, represented in the shadows of the camera obscura. The dark masses of dwelling-houses had a confined, narrow, gloomy, and lugubrious aspect. They were of brick, without window-sills of marble or other colored stone; unpainted, and unenlivened by blinds. They were closely shut, and the glimpses of cheerfulness and domestic comfortexhibited in our streets were here unseen. All the shops were open to the weather: Many of them having the whole front removed, and gas-lights blazing and streaming like great torches, rather than with the puny and flickering illumination seen in ours. The articles were completely exposed to view at the side of the street; clothing, provisions, crockery, hardware; whatever is necessary to the wants of man. The druggists, with their variegated vases, as with us, cast the Iris hues of their nauseous mixtures into the street. Sellers of cheap goods exposed them in the windows, with their price labelled. The butchers hung out beef, pork, sausages, and enormous coarse sheep, in a nearly whole state, with sometimes the price affixed to the inferior portions, in order that the poor might judge whether the price they had received for their day's labor, would compass a meal of meat; or whether they should seek a diet more suited to their means, of a neighboring potato-merchant: or whether to turn in despair, as many of the most wretched seemed to do, to accept the flattering invitation of the magnificent gin-palace at the corner. It was the most splendid building in the neighborhood; built with some little architectural elegance, whose effect was magnified by the unadorned character and gloomy air of the surrounding edifices. A beautiful gas-light, in a richly ornamented lamp, stood as an inviting beacon, visible in many diverging directions. The windows were glazed with costly plate-glass, bearing inscribed, in illuminated letters, the words—gin at three-pence—generous wines hot-spiced;—and the door surrounded by stained panes of rich dye, having rosettes, bunches of grapes, and gay devices."
There are some fewniaiseriesin the work before us, which, although insufficient to affect its character as a whole, yet constitute a weak point in what otherwise is beautiful, and cause us to regret sincerely, the accidents which have admitted them. We may mention, in especial, the too frequent introduction of the monosyllable "how," in such sentences as "they told how"—"it was related how"—"I was informed how," &c. Mr. Slidell will find, upon self-scrutiny, that he has fallen into this habit through the sin of imitation. The Lieutenant, too, suffers his work to savor far too strongly of the ship, and lets slip him no opportunity of thrusting upon the public attention the fact of his particular vocation—insisting, indeed, upon this matter with a pertinacity even ludicrous—a pertinacity which will be exemplified in the following passage:
"Unaccustomed as I had been in the larger vessels, in which I had sailed of late, to be thus unceremoniously boardedon the hallowed region of the quarter-deck, this seemed to me quite a superfluous piece of impertinence. The remains of my sentiment were at once washed away, andnot minding a little honest salt-water, I betook myself forthwith to the substantial comfortings of the repast, which I found smoking on the cabin table. Dinner was over: tea and conversation had followed; the evening was already far advanced, and I began to yield to the sleepy sensationwhich the familiar roll of the sea inspired. Before turning in I ascended to the companionway to breathe the fresh air, and see what progress we were making.Familiar as I was with the sight of ships in every possible situation, I was much struck with the beauty of the scene."
Again. Although the author evinces, in theory, a very laudable contempt for that silly vanity so often inducing men to blazon forth their intimacy with the distinguished; and although, in the volumes now before us, he more than once directs the arrows of his satire at the infirmity—still he is found not altogether free from it himself; and, in one especial instance, is even awkwardly uneasy, lest we should remain ignorant of his acquaintance with Washington Irving. "I thought," quoth the Lieutenant, when there was no necessity for thinking about any such matter, "I thought of the 'spectral box-coats' of my inimitable friend Geoffrey Crayon; and would have given the world in that moment of despondency, for one of his quiet unwritten jokes, or one friendly pressure of his hand."
Upon Mr. Slidell's mechanical style we cannot bring ourselves to look with favor. Indeed while running over, with some astonishment, a few of his singularly ill-constructed sentences, we begin to think that the sentiments expressed in the conclusion of his Preface are not, as we at first suspected, merely the common cant of theliterateur, and that his book is actually, as he represents it to be, "the result of an up-hill journey," and "a work which he regards with a feeling of aversion." What else than great tedium and utter weariness with his labor, could have induced our author to trust such passages as the following to the critical eye of the public?
"The absence of intellectual and moral culture, in occupations which rendered it unnecessary for those who worked only to administer food to themselves and profit or luxury to the class of masters, could only account for the absence of forehead, of the ornamental parts of that face which was moulded after a divine model."
We perused this sentence more than once before we could fathom its meaning. Mr. Slidell wishes to say, thatnarrowness of forehead in the rabble is owing to want of mental exercise—they being laborers not thinkers. But from the words of our author we are led to conclude that some occupations (certainly very strange ones) rendered it unnecessary for those who worked, to administer food to themselves—that is, to eat. The pronoun "it," however, will be found, upon examination, to refer to "moral culture." The repetition of the word "only" is also disagreeable, and the entire passage is overloaded with verbiage. A rigid scrutiny will show that all essential portions of the intended idea are embodied in the lines Italicised. In the original sentence arefifty-fourwords—in our owneighteen—or precisely one third. It follows, that if all the Lieutenant's sentences had been abridged in a similar manner—a process which would have redounded greatly to their advantage—we might have been spared much trouble, and the public much time, trouble, and expense—the "American in England" making its appearance in a duodecimo of one hundred and ninety-two pages, rather than in two octavos of five hundred and seventy-six.
At page 122, vol. I, we have what follows.
"My situation here was uncomfortable enough; if I were softly cushioned on one side, this only tended, by the contrast, to increase the obduracy of a small iron rod, which served as a parapet to protect me from falling off the precipice, over which I hung toppling, and against which I was forced with a pressure proportioned to the circumstances of my being compressed into a space somewhat narrower than myself; the seat having doubtless been contrived to accommodate five men, and there being no greater anatomical mistake than to suppose there would be more room because four of them were women."
'If I were,' in this sentence, is not English—but there are few persons who will believe that "if" does not inallinstances require the subjunctive. In the words "a small iron rod which served as a parapet to protect me from falling off the precipice over which I hung, and against which I was forced," &c.let us say nothing of theinjudicious use of the wordparapetas applied toa small iron rod. Passing over this, it is evident, that the second relative pronoun "which," has for its antecedent, in strict syntactical arrangement, the same noun as the first relative pronoun "which"—that is to say, it has the word "precipice" for its antecedent. The sentence would thus imply that Mr. Slidell was forced against the precipice. But the actual meaning (at which we arrive by guessing) is, that Mr. Slidell was forced against the iron rod. In the words "I was forced with a pressure proportioned to the circumstances of my being compressed into a space," &c.let us again be indulgent, and say as little as possible of the tautology in "pressure" and "compressed." But we ask where are thecircumstancesspoken of? There is onlyonecircumstance—the circumstance of being compressed. In the conclusion of the passage where the Lieutenant speaks of "a seat having doubtless been contrived to accommodate five men, and there being no greater anatomical mistake than to suppose there would be more room because four of them were women," it is quite unnecessary to point out the "bull egregious"—a bull which could have been readily avoided by the simple substitute of "persons" for "men."
We must be pardoned for copying yet another sentence. We will do so with the single remark that it is one of the most ludicrously ill-arranged, and altogether ungainly pieces of composition which it has ever been our ill fortune to encounter.
"I was not long in discovering that the different personages scattered about the room in such an unsocial and misanthropic manner, instead of being collected about the same board, as in France or my own country, and, in the spirit of good fellowship and of boon companions, relieving each other of their mutual ennuis, though they did not speak a word to each other, by which they might hereafter be compromised and socially ruined, by discovering that they had made the acquaintance of an individual several grades below them in the scale of rank, or haply as disagreeably undeceived by the abstraction of a pocket-book, still kept up a certain interchange of sentiment, by occasional glances and mutual observation."
Such passages as the foregoing may be discoveredpassimin "The American in England." Yet we have heard Mr. Slidell's English called equal to the English of Mr. Irving—than which nothing can be more improbable. The Lieutenant's book is an excellent book—but then it is excellentin spite of its style. So great are the triumphs of genius!