The American Encyclopedia

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

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DEPARTMENT OF HISTORY.
ANCIENT HISTORY.
Ethiopian History		18–20
Mongolian History.—​The Chinese		20–26
Caucasian History.—​Ancient India—​Eastern Nations—​The Egyptians—​Arabians—​Syria—​The Phœnicians—​Palestine—​The Jews—​The Assyrians and Babylonians—​The Medes and Persians—​States of Asia Minor—​The Lydians—​The Persian Empire		26–53
Grecian History.—​Early History and Mythology—​Religious Rites—​Authentic History—​Sparta—​Lycurgus—​Athens—​Persian Invasion—​Pericles—​Alcibiades—​Decline of Athenian Independence—​Alexander the Great—​Concluding Period		53–78
Roman History.—​The Latins—​The Kings—​The Commonwealth—​Struggle between the Patricians and Plebeians—​Invasion of the Gauls—​The Samnite Wars—​The Punic Wars—​The Revolutions of the Gracchi—​Social Wars—​Marius and Sulla—​Pompey, Cicero, Cataline, Cæsar—​Gallic Wars—​Extinction of the Commonwealth—​Civil Wars—​Augustus—​Dissemination of Christianity—​Division of the Empire—​Downfall of the Western Empire		78–112
MIDDLE AGES.
—​The Eastern Empire—​Constantine—​Julian the Apostate—​Theodosius the Great—​Justinian; his Code—​Arabia—​Mohammed—​Empire of the Saracens—​The Feudal System—​Charlemagne—​The New Western Empire—​France—​The German Empire—​Italy—​Spain—​General state of Europe—​The Crusades—​Chivalry—​Rise of new Powers—​Wm. Tell—​The Italian Republics—​Commerce—​The Turks—​Fall of Constantinople—​Rise of Civil Freedom		112–145
MODERN HISTORY.
Great Britain and Ireland.—​Conquest by the Romans; by the Saxons; by the Normans—​Early Norman Kings—​William the Conqueror—​Henry—​Richard Cœur de Lion—​John—​Magna Charta—​Origin of Parliament—​Edwards—​Conquest of Scotland—​Richard II—​House of Lancaster—​House of York—​House of Tudor—​Henry VIII—​The Reformation—​Edward VI—​Queen Mary; Elizabeth—​Mary, Queen of Scots—​The Stuarts—​Gunpowder Plot—​Revolution—​Irish Rebellion—​Oliver Cromwell—​Trial and Execution of Charles I—​The Commonwealth—​Subjugation of Ireland and Scotland—​The Protectorate—​The Restoration—​Charles II—​Dutch War—​Plague and Fire in London—​The Rye House Plot—​Death of Charles II—​James II—​Expedition of Monmouth—​Arbitrary Measures of the King—​The Revolution—​William and Mary—​Establishment of the Bank of England—​Queen Anne—​Union of England and Scotland—​Marlborough’s Campaigns—​House of Hanover—​George I—​Rebellion of 1715–16—​George II—​Rebellion of 1745–46—​George III—​American Stamp Act—​American War of Independence—​French Revolution—​Rebellion in Ireland—​Union with Great Britain—​War with U. States—​George IV—​William IV—​Queen Victoria—​War with Russia—​Alliance with France—​Attack on Odessa—​Operations in the Baltic—​The Crimea—​Battle of the Alma—​Sebastopol described—​Allies opening Trenches—​Bombardment—​Explosion of French Batteries and Russian Powder Magazine—​The Allied Fleet—​Cannonade—​Battle of Balaklava—​The Turks—​The Highlanders—​The Russian Cavalry—​Capt. Nolan—​Battle of Inkermann—​Morning of the Battle—​The Attack—​The Zouaves—​Chasseurs—​Night after the Battle—​Council of War—​Determination to Winter—​Reinforcements demanded		145–256
History of France.—​Clovis, A. D. 486; division of his Empire—​The Merovingian Kings—​The Carlovingians—​Pepin—​Charles Martel—​Charlemagne; his Empire—​Louis—​Division of the Empire—​Charles—​Arnulf—​Charles the Simple—​Invasion of the Normans—​Hugh Capet and his Successors—​Philip VI of Valois—​Wars with England, 1328–1415—​Charles VI—​Maid of Orleans—​Louis XI—​Francis II—​France during the War of Religion—​Persecution of the Huguenots—​Coligni—​The Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 1572—​Henry III—​Henry IV—​Edict of Nantes—​The Age of Louis XIV—​Richelieu and Mazarin—​Persecution of the Calvinists—​Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, 1685—​The Last Days of Absolute Monarchy—​Louis XV—​Louis XVI—​The French Revolution—​National Assembly—​Mirabeau, Dante, Marat, Robespierre—​The 10th of August—​Dethronement of the King—​National Convention—​Trial and Execution of the King—​Jacobins and Girondists—​Exclusion of the Girondists from the Convention—​Execution of the Queen, Madame Elizabeth, and the Duke of Orleans—​La Vendee—​Fall of Danton and Camille Desmoulins—​Overthrow of Robespierre and the Jacobins—​Reconstruction of the Government—​Napoleon Bonaparte—​Italian Campaign—​Expedition to Egypt and Syria—​Return to France—​The First Consulate—​Consul for Life—​Duke d’Enghein—​Napoleon Emperor—​Austrian Campaign—​Russians—​Battle of Austerlitz—​Confederation of the Rhine—​War with Prussia—​Alliance of Prussia and Russia—​Victory at Friedland—​Peace of Tilsit—​Occupation of Portugal—​Spain—​Annexation of the Roman States and imprisonment of the Pope—​New war with Austria—​Peace of Vienna—​Marriage with Maria Louisa—​Russian Campaign—​Conflagration of Moscow—​Retreat of the French—​Alliance of Russia, Prussia, etc.—​Congress of Prague—​Austria—​Battle of Leipsic—​Retreat of the French—​Invasion of France by the Allies—​Abdication of Napoleon—​Louis XVIII—​Escape of Napoleon from Elba—​Defeat at Waterloo—​Death at St. Helena—​Louis XVIII—​Charles X—​Abdication—​Louis Philippe—​Revolution—​Louis Napoleon—​War with Russia and alliance with England and Turkey		256–302
History of Spain.—​Gothic Monarchy—​The Moors—​Castile—​Henry IV—​Ferdinand and Isabella—​Conquest of Grenada—​Christopher Columbus—​Discovery of America—​Charles V—​Hernando Cortez—​Conquest of Mexico—​Francis Pizarro—​Conquest of Peru—​Ignatius Loyola—​Philip II—​War with England—​Defeat of the Invincible Armada—​Philip III—​Banishment of the descendants of the Moors—​Philip IV—​Accession of the House of Bourbon—​Charles III—​The Seven Years’ War—​Charles IV—​Ferdinand—​Joseph Bonaparte—​Alliance of the Spaniards and English—​Return of Ferdinand—​Isabella II		302–312
Germany and Austria.—​Division of the Empire of Charlemagne, and formation of the German Empire—​Succession of Henry the Fowler to the throne of Conrad of Franconia—​The Germans build cities—​Accession of Hildebrand—​Pope Gregory III—​His Excommunication of Henry IV—​Strife of Guelphs and Ghibelines—​Pope Adrian IV—​Tancred—​Richard III of England—​The House of Hapsburg succeeds that of Swabia—​Death of Albert—​Charles IV issues the Golden Bull—​Council of Constance—​Martyrdom of John Huss and Jerome of Prague—​Invention of Printing—​Luther; the Reformation—​Thirty Years’ War—​Peace of Westphalia—​Insurrection of Hungarians aided by Turks—​The War of Succession—​Prince Eugene—​Maria Theresa—​Pragmatic Sanction—​Revolt of the Netherlands—​Confederation of the Rhine—​Congress of Vienna—​Hungarian Revolution of 1848		312–326
History of Russia.—​Russia rescued from the Tartars by John Basilowitz—​Michael Theodorowitz, First of the House of Romanoff, Czar of Muscovy—​Reorganization of Russia by Alexis—​Reign of Peter the Great—​Foundation and embellishment of St. Petersburg—​Succession of the Czarina Catherine—​Catherine II—​Annexation of the Crimea—​Dismemberment of Poland—​Kosciusko—​Suwarrow—​Resignation of Stanislaus—​Paul—​War against the French Republic—​Assassination of Paul—​Alexander—​Coalition against Napoleon, by Austria and England—​Peace of Tilsit—​Napoleon declares war against Russia—​Smolensko—​Burning of Moscow—​Constantine—​Nicholas—​Extirpation of Poland—​Siege of Sevastopol by France, England, and Turkey—​Death of Nicholas—​Succession of Alexander II		326–334
HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.
I.	Colonial History.—​Discoveries of Cabot—​The Huguenots—​Sir Walter Raleigh—​Champlain—​Henry Hudson—​Virginia—​Jamestown—​John Smith—​Pocahontas—​Indian War—​Gov. Berkeley—​Nathaniel Bacon—​New England Colonies—​Puritans—​Principles of their early Government—​Quaker Persecution—​Pequod Indian War—​King Philip—​Royal Governors—​Salem Witchcraft—​Connecticut—​Rhode Island—​Dutch Settlement of New Amsterdam—​Indian War—​Annexation of New Amsterdam to the English Colonies, and change of name to N. York—​Lord Baltimore—​Civil War—​Carolina—​Wm. Penn—​Indian Treaty—​Frame of Government—​Oglethorpe—​Wesley—​Whitfield—​Principles and characteristics of the Colonists	334–363
II.	Contest of France and England for America.—​King William’s War—​The French War—​The Ohio Company—​George Washington—​Braddock—​Gen. Wolfe—​Rising Colonial prosperity	363–368
III.	The Revolution.—​Stamp Act—​N. Y. Congress—​War of publications against Britain—​Boston Massacre—​Tea Party—​Lexington—​Declaration of Independence—​Franklin, Lafayette, Kosciusko—​Trenton—​Brandywine—​Burgoyne’s Defeat—​Alliance of France and America—​Baron Steuben—​D’Estaing—​Stony Point—​Arnold—​Col. Hayne—​Capitulation of Cornwallis—​Treaty at Paris—​Washington—​Paralyzed condition of the Government—​Massachusetts Rebellion 1786—​Formation of Government by the Constitutional Convention	368–394
IV.	Constitutional History.—​Federalists and anti-Federalists—​Defeat of Harmar and St. Clair—​Prohibition of the Slave Trade—​Death of Washington—​Purchase of Louisiana—​War with Tripoli—​Embargo Acts—​War with England—​Campaign of 1812—​American Naval Victories—​Perry’s victory on Lake Erie—​Gen. Harrison—​Treaty at Ghent—​Battle of New Orleans—​Seminole War—​Lafayette—​Tariff—​U. S. Bank—​Nullification—​Compromise of 1820—​Commercial Bankruptcy—​Annexation of Texas—​Mexican War—​Discovery of Gold in California—​Gadsden Treaty	394–413
BIOGRAPHICAL DEPARTMENT.
Hernando Cortez		415
William Penn		441
Benjamin Franklin		467
Peter the Great		475
Count Rumford		498
Nicholas Copernicus		523
Tycho Brahe		526
Galileo		528
Kepler		531
Sir Isaac Newton		533
Huygens		536
Halley		537
Ferguson		539
Sir William Herschel		544
Simon Bolivar		547
Francia, the Dictator		554
Alexander Wilson		562
James Watt		569
John Howard		572
Lord Byron		598
Percy Bysshe Shelley		612
Oliver Goldsmith		615
Edward Gibbon		619
David Hume		623
Alexander Pope		627
John Adams		634
Thomas Jefferson		644
Samuel Adams		649
James Otis		651
Fisher Ames		653
Aaron Burr		655
Alexander Hamilton		657
Patrick Henry		660
John Hancock		664
Ethan Allen		665
Benedict Arnold		667
Horatio Gates		680
Thaddeus Kosciusko		681
Nathaniel Green		685
Frederick William Augustus Steuben		688
Baron de Kalb		689
Richard Montgomery		690
Gilbert Motier Lafayette		691
Israel Putnam		696
Stephen Decatur		698
Isaac Hull		700
Oliver Hazard Perry		702
John Marshall		704
John Paul Jones		706
Andrew Jackson		710
Winfield Scott		713
Zachary Taylor		714
John E. Wool		724
Daniel Webster		726
Henry Clay		732
Levi Woodbury		735
Robert Rantoul		737
Franklin Pierce		740
Samuel Finley Breese Morse		741
M. Daguerre		747
Victor Hugo		749
Omar Pasha		751
Edward Everett		753
Washington Irving		754
William Cullen Bryant		756
George Bancroft		756
William Hickling Prescott		758
Hiram Powers		759
DEPARTMENT OF TRAVEL.
Historical Sketch of Naval Architecture		761
Early Maritime Discoveries		774
Christopher Columbus		775
Ferdinand Magellan		800
Sir Francis Drake		802
Henry Hudson		804
Le Maire and Schouten		805
Captain James		806
William Dampier		811
Captain Woodes Rogers		814
John Clipperton		815
Commodore Anson		817
Captain Byron		823
Captain Wallis		829
De Bougainville		832
Captain James Cook		837
Captains Portlock and Dixon		864
Monsieur De La Perouse		870
George Vancouver		891
Perry’s Voyages		896
Sir John Franklin		920
Travels in Africa—​Parke, Denham, Clapperton, Lander and others		927
Samuel Hearne		953
John Lewis Burkhardt		955
James Bruce		958
John Ledyard		966
John Baptist Belzoni		967
George Forster		974
Edward Daniel Clarke		976
Richard Pococke		979
Overland Journey to India		981

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE.
Opium Smuggling	22
Japanese Funeral Procession	23
Aga	30
Japanese Agriculture	31
Terrace of St. Peter’s	126
Gibraltar	127
Marine Arsenal, Constantinople	232
Place of Kossuth’s Imprisonment	233
Castle of Eisenstadt	322
King of Denmark	323
Captain Smith and Pocahontas	336
Providence, R. I.	338
Newport, R. I.	339
New Haven, Conn.	342
Philadelphia, Pa.	343
Halifax, N. S.	348
Lake George	349
Castle William	354
Castle Garden	355
Wilmington, N. C.	358
Prison, Phila.	359
Fort Putnam	364
Pillar Rock	365
Place des Armes, New Orleans	370
Blackwell Penitentiary	371
Columbus, O.	402
Depot, Cleveland, O.	403
Cincinnati, O.	406
Sandusky City, O.	407
Battle Monument, Baltimore	410
Bombardment of Vera Cruz	411
State House, Wisconsin	414
View on Grand River, Ohio	570
Bridge, Conneaut River, O.	571
Kosciusko’s Monument	683
Paul Jonas	707
Gen. Scott	712
Fort Ancient	716
Milford, near Cincinnati, O.	717
Gen. Wool	725
Daniel Webster	728
Residence of Daniel Webster	729
Henry Clay	733
Hon. Levi Woodbury	734
Birth Place of John Q. Adams	736
Franklin Pierce	738
William R. King	739
Euclid Creek, O.	742
Red Bank	743
Prof. Morse	744
Daguerre	746
Victor Hugo	748
Omar Pasha	752
Disappointed Gold Seekers	760
Gold Seeker’s Grave	760
Naval Architecture, from the tenth to the seventeenth century (17 Engravings)	762–770
City of Panama	812
Panama Gate	813
City of Havana	818
Scene in Havana	819
Adelaide	824
Bathurst, N. S. W.	825
Valparaiso	834
Iron Bridge, Jamaica	835
Sidney, N. S. W.	856
Humboldt	857
California	874
Ranche	875
Post Office	876
River-bed Claim on the Turon	877
Removing Goods	878
Dry Diggings	879
Portraits of Sir John Franklin’s Expedition, (9 Engravings)	922–926
Calcutta	973
Rail Road Bridge	964
Elk Creek	965
East Branch Rocky River	982
West Branch Rocky River	983

AMERICAN ENCYCLOPEDIA.

THE

OF

HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY AND TRAVEL.

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ANCIENT HISTORY.

The general consent of mankind points to the region of Central Asia as having been the original seat from which the human race dispersed itself over the globe; and accordingly, it is this region, and especially the western portion of it, which we find to have been the theatre of the earliest recorded transactions. In short, it was in Central Asia that the first large mass of ripened humanity was accumulated—​a great central nucleus of human life, so to speak, constantly enlarging, and from which emissaries incessantly streamed out over the globe in all directions. In process of time this great central mass having swollen out till it filled Asia and Africa, broke up into three fragments—​thus giving parentage to the three leading varieties into which ethnographers divide the human species—​the Caucasian, the Mongolian, and the Ethiopian or Negro—​the Caucasians overspreading southern and western Asia; the Mongolians overspreading northern and eastern Asia; and the Ethiopians overspreading Africa. From these three sources streamed forth branches which, intermingling in various proportions, have constituted the various nations of the earth.

Differing from each other in physiological characteristics, the three great varieties of the human species have also differed widely in their historical career. The germs of a grand progressive development seem to have been implanted specially in the Caucasian variety, the parent stock of all the great civilized nations of ancient and modern times. History, therefore, concerns itself chiefly with this variety: in the evolution of whose destinies the true thread of human progress is to be found. Ere proceeding, however, to sketch the early development of this highly-endowed variety of our species in the nations of antiquity, a few observations may be offered regarding the other two the Ethiopian and Mongolian—​which began the race of life along with the Caucasian, and whose destinies, doubtless, whatever may have been their historical functions hitherto, are involved in some profound and beautiful manner with the bearing of the race as a whole.

ETHIOPIAN HISTORY.

A German Historian thus sums up all that is known of Ethiopian history—​that is, of the part which the great Negro race, inhabiting all Africa with the exception of the north-eastern coasts, performed in the general affairs of mankind in the early ages of the world:—​‘On the history of this division of the species two remarks may be made: the one, that a now entirely extinct knowledge of the extension and power of this branch of the human family must have been forced upon even the Greeks by their early poets and historians; the other, that the Ethiopian history is interwoven throughout with that of Egypt. As regards the first remark, it is clear that in the earliest ages this branch of the race must have played an important part, since Meroe (in the present Nubia) is mentioned both by Herodotus (B. C. 408) and Strabo (A. D. 20); by the one as a still-existing, by the other as a formerly-existing seat of royalty, and centre of the Ethiopian religion and civilization.[1] To this Strabo adds, that the race spread from the boundaries of Egypt over the mountains of Atlas, as far as the Gaditanian Straits. Ephorus, too (B. C. 405), seems to have had a very great impression of the Ethiopians, since he names in the east the Indians, in the south the Ethiopians, in the west the Celts, in the north the Scythians, as the most mighty and numerous peoples of the known earth. Already in Strabo’s time, however, their ancient power had been gone for an indefinite period, and the Negro states found themselves, after Meroe had ceased to be a religious capital, almost in the same situation as that in which they still continue. The second remark on the Negro branch of the human race and its history, can only be fully elucidated when the interpretation of the inscriptions on Egyptian monuments shall have been farther advanced. The latest travels into Abyssinia show this much—​that at one time the Egyptian religion and civilization extended over the principal seat of the northern Negroes. Single mummies and monumental figures corroborate what Herodotus expressly says, that a great portion of the Egyptians of his time had black skins and woolly hair; hence we infer that the Negro race had combined itself intimately with the Caucasian part of the population. Not these notices only, but the express testimonies also of the Hebrew annals, show Egypt to have contained an abundance of Negroes, and mention a conquering king invading it at the head of a Negro host, and governing it for a considerable time. The nature of the accounts on which we must found does not permit us to give an accurate statement; we remark, however, that the Indians, the Egyptians, and the Babylonians, are not the only peoples which aimed at becoming world-conquerors before the historic age, but that also to the Ethiopian stock warlike kings were not wanting in the early times. The Mongols alone seem to have enjoyed a happy repose within their own seats in the primitive historic times, and those antecedent to them; they appear first very late as conquerors and destroyers in the history of the west. If, indeed, the hero-king of the Ethiopians, Tearcho, were one and the same with the Tirhakah of the book of Kings (2 Kings, xix. 9), then the wonder of those stories would disappear which were handed down by tradition to the Greeks; but even Bochart has combatted this belief, and we cannot reconcile it with the circumstances which are related of both. It remains for us only to observe, by way of summary, that in an age antecedent to the historic, the Ethiopian peoples may have been associated together in a more regular manner than in our own or Grecian and Roman times; and that their distant expeditions may have been so formidable, both to the Europeans as far as the Ægean Sea in the east, and to the dwellers on the Gaditanian Straits (Gibraltar) on the west, that the dim knowledge of the fact was not lost even in late times. In more recent ages we observe here and there an Ethiopian influence, and especially in the Egyptian history; but as concerns the general progress of the human species, the Negro race never acquired any vital importance.

The foregoing observations may be summed up in this proposition:—​That in the most remote antiquity, Africa was overspread by the Negro variety of the human species; that in those parts of the continent to which the knowledge of the ancient geographers did not extend—​namely, all south of Egypt and the Great Desert—​the Negro race degenerated, or at least dispersed into tribes, kingdoms, etc., constituting a great savage system within its own torrid abode, similar to that which even now, in the adult age of the world, we are vainly attempting to penetrate; but that on the coasts of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, the race either preserved its original faculty and intelligence longer, or was so improved by contact and intermixture with its Caucasian neighbors, as to constitute, under the name of the Ethiopians, one of the great ante-historic dynasties of the world; and that this dynasty ebbed and flowed against the Caucasian populations of western Asia and eastern Europe, thus giving rise to mixture of races along the African coasts of the north and east, until at length, leaving these mixed races to act their part awhile, the pure Ethiopian himself retired from historic view into Central Africa, where he lay concealed, till again in modern times he was dragged forth to become the slave of the Caucasian. Thus Negro history hitherto has exhibited a retrogression from a point once occupied, rather than a progress in civilization. Even this fact, however, must somehow be subordinate to a great law of general progress; and it is gratifying to know that, on the coast of Africa, a settlement has recently been formed called Liberia, peopled by liberated negro slaves from North America; and who, bringing with them the Anglo-American civilization, give promise of founding a cultured and prosperous community.

MONGOLIAN HISTORY—​THE CHINESE.

As from the great central mass of mankind, the first accumulation of life on our planet, there was parted off into Africa a fragment called the Negro variety, so into eastern Asia there was detached, by those causes which we seek in vain to discover, a second huge fragment, to which has been given the name of the Mongolian variety. Overspreading the great plains of Asia, from the Himalehs to the Sea of Okhotsk, this detachment of the human species may be supposed to have crossed into Japan; to have reached the other islands of the Pacific, and either through these, or by the access at Behring’s Straits, to have poured themselves through the great American continent; their peculiarities shading off in their long journey, till the Mongolian was converted into the American Indian. Blumenbach, however, erects the American Indian into a type by himself.

Had historians been able to pursue the Negro race into their central African jungles and deserts, they would no doubt have found the general Ethiopic mass breaking up there under the operation of causes connected with climate, soil, food, etc., into vast sections or subdivisions, presenting marked differences from each other; and precisely so was it with the Mongolians. In Central Asia, we find them as Thibetians, Tungusians, Mongols proper; on the eastern coasts, as Mantchous and Chinese; in the adjacent islands, as Japanese, etc.; and nearer the North Pole, as Laplanders, Esquimaux, etc.; all presenting peculiarities of their own. Of these great Mongolian branches circumstances have given a higher degree of development to the Chinese and the Japanese than to the others, which are chiefly nomadic hordes, some under Chinese rule, others independent, roaming over the great pasture lands of Asia, and employed in rearing cattle.

There is every reason to believe that the vast population inhabiting that portion of eastern Asia called China, can boast of a longer antiquity of civilization than almost any other nation of the world, a civilization, however, differing essentially in its character from those which have appeared and disappeared among the Caucasians. This, in fact, is to be observed as the grand difference between the history of the Mongolian and that of the Caucasian variety of the human species, that whereas the former presents us with the best product of Mongolian humanity, in the form of one great permanent civilization—​the Chinese—​extending from century to century, one, the same, and solitary, through a period of 3000 or 4000 years; the latter exhibits a succession of civilization—​the Chaldean, the Persian, the Grecian, the Roman, the modern European (subdivided into French, English, German, Italian, etc.,) and the Anglo-American; these civilizations, from the remotest Oriental—​that is, Chaldean—​to the most recent Occidental—​that is, the Anglo-American—​being a series of waves falling into each other, and driven onward by the same general force. A brief sketch of Chinese history, with a glance at Japan, will therefore discharge all that we owe to the Mongolian race.

Authentic Chinese history does not extend father back than about 800 or 1000 years B. C.; but, as has been the case more or less with all nations, the Chinese imagination has provided itself with a mythological history extending many ages back into the unknown past. Unlike the mythology of the Greeks, but like that of the Indians, the Chinese legends deal in large chronological intervals. First of all, in the beginning of time, was the great Puan-Koo, founder of the Chinese nation, and whose dress was green leaves. After him came Ty-en-Hoang, Ti-Hoang, Gin-Hoang and several other euphonious potentates, each of whom did something towards the building up of the Chinese nation, and each of whom reigned, as was the custom in those grand old times, thousands of years. At length, at a time corresponding to that assigned in Scripture to the life of Noah, came the divine-born Fohi, a man of transcendent faculties, who reigned 115 years, teaching music and the system of symbols, instituting marriage, building walls round cities, creating mandarins, and, in short, establishing the Chinese nation on a basis that could never be shaken. After him came Shin-ning, Whang-ti, etc., until in due time came the good emperors Yao and Shun, in the reign of the latter of whom happened a great flood. By means of canals and drains the assiduous Yu saved the country, and became the successor of Shun. Yu was the first emperor of the Hia dynasty, which began about 2100 B. C. After this dynasty came that of Shang, the last of whose emperors, a great tyrant, was deposed (B. C. 1122) by Woo-wong, the founder of the Tchow dynasty.

In this Tchow dynasty, which lasted upwards of 800 years, authentic Chinese history commences. It was during it, and most probably about the year B. C. 484, that the great Con-fu-tse, or Confucius, the founder of the Chinese religion, philosophy, and literature, flourished. In the year B. C. 248, the Tchow dynasty was superseded by that of Tsin, the first of whose kings built the Great Wall of China, to defend the country against the Tartar Nomads. The Tsin dynasty was a short one: it was succeeded in B. C. 206 by the Han dynasty, which lasted till A. D. 238. Then followed a rapid series of dynastic revolutions, by which the nation was frequently broken into parts; and during which the population was considerably changed in character by the irruptions of the nomad hoards of Asia who intermingled with it. Early in the seventh century, a dynasty called that of Tang acceded to power, which ended in 897. After half a century of anarchy, order was restored under the Song dynasty, at the commencement of which, or about the year 950, the art of printing was discovered, five centuries before it was known in Europe. ‘The Song dynasty,’ says Schlosser, ‘maintained an intimate connection with Japan, as contrary to all Chinese maxims; the emperors of this dynasty imposed no limits to knowledge, the arts, life, luxury, and commerce with other nations. Their unhappy fate, therefore (on being extinguished with circumstances of special horror by the Mongol conqueror Kublai Khan, A. D. 1281), is held forth as a warning against departing a hairsbreadth from the old customs of the empire. From the time of the destruction of the Song dynasty by the Mongol monarchy, the intercourse between China and Japan was broken, until again the Ming, a native Chinese dynasty (A. D. 1366) restored it. The Mongol rulers made an expedition against Japan, but were unsuccessful. The unfortunate gift which the Japanese received from China was the doctrine of Foë. This doctrine, however, was not the first foreign doctrine or foreign worship that came into China. A religion, whose nature we cannot fix—​probably Buddhism, ere it had assumed the form of Lamaism—​was preached in it at an earlier date. About the time of the Tsin dynasty (B. C. 248–206), a warlike king had incorporated all China into one and subdued the princes of the various provinces. While he was at war with his subjects, many of the roving hordes to the north of China pressed into the land, and with them appeared missionaries of the religion above mentioned. When peace was restored, the kings of the fore-named dynasty, as also later those of Han and the two following dynasties, extended the kingdom prodigiously, and the western provinces became known to the Greeks and Romans as the land of the Seres. As on the one side Tartary was at that time Chinese, so on the other side the Chinese were connected with India; whence came the Indian religion. It procured many adherents, but yielded at length to the primitive habits of the nations. In consequence of the introduction of the religion of Foë, the immense country fell asunder into two kingdoms. The south and the north had each its sovereign; and the wars of the northern kingdom occasioned the wanderings of the Huns, by whose agency the Roman Empire was destroyed. These kingdoms of the north and south were often afterwards united and again dissevered; great savage hordes roamed around them as at present; but all that had settled, and that dwelt within the Great Wall, submitted to the ancient Chinese civilization. Ghenghis Khan, indeed, whose power was founded on the Turkish and Mongol races, annihilated both kingdoms, and the barbaric element seemed to triumph; but this was changed as soon as his kingdom was divided. Even Kublai, and yet more his immediate followers, much as the Chinese calumniate the Mongol dynasty of Yeven, maintained everything in its ancient condition, with the single exception that they did homage to Lamaism, the altered form of Buddhism. This religion yet prevails, accommodated skillfully, however, to the Chinese mode of existence—​a mode which all subsequent conquerors have respected, as the example of the present dynasty proves.’ The dynasty alluded to is that of Tatsin Mantchou, a mixed Mongol and Tartar stock, which superseded the native Chinese dynasty of Ming in the year 1644. The present emperor of China is the sixth of the Tatsin dynasty.

From the series of dry facts just given, we arrive at the following definition of China and its civilization: As the Roman Empire was a great temporary aggregation of matured Caucasian humanity, surrounded by and shading off into Caucasian barbarism, so China, a country more extensive than all Europe, and inhabited by a population of more than 300,000,000, is an aggregation of matured Mongolian humanity surrounded by Mongolian barbarism. The difference is this, that while the Roman Empire was only one of several successive aggregations of the Caucasian race, each on an entirely different basis, the Chinese empire has been one permanent exhibition of the only form of civilization possible among the Mongolians. The Jew, the Greek, the Roman, the Frenchman, the German, the Englishman—​these are all types of the matured Caucasian character; but a fully-developed Mongolian has but one type—​the Chinese. Chinese history does not exhibit a progress of the Mongolian man through a series of stages; it exhibits only a uniform duration of one great civilized Mongolian empire, sometimes expanding so as to extend itself into the surrounding Mongolian barbarism, sometimes contracted by the pressure of that barbarism, sometimes disturbed by infusions of the barbaric element, sometimes shattered within itself by the operation of individual Chinese ambition, but always retaining its essential character. True, in such a vast empire, difference of climate, etc., must give rise to specific differences, so that a Chinese of the north-east is not the same as a Chinese of the south-west; true, also, the Japanese civilization seems to exist as an alternative between which and the Chinese, Providence might share the Mongolian part of our species, were it to remain unmixed; still the general remark remains undeniable, that from the extremest antiquity to the present day, Mongolian humanity has been able to cast itself but into one essential civilized type. It is an object of peculiar interest, therefore, to us who belong to the multiform and progressive Caucasian race, to obtain a distinct idea of the nature of that permanent form of civilization out of which our Mongolian brothers have never issued, and apparently never wish to issue. Each of our readers being a civilized Caucasian, may be supposed to ask, ‘What sort of a human being is a civilized Mongolian?’ A study of the Chinese civilization would answer this question. Not so easy would it be for a Chinese to return the compliment, confused as he would be by the multiplicity of the types which the Caucasian man has assumed—​from the ancient Arab to the modern Anglo-American.

Hitherto little progress has been made in the investigation of the Chinese civilization. Several conclusions of a general character have, however, been established. ‘We recognise,’ says Schlosser, ‘in the institutions of the Chinese, so much praised by the Jesuits, the character of the institutions of all early states; with this difference, that the Chinese mode of life is not a product of hierarchical or theocratic maxims, but a work of the cold understanding. In China, all that subserves the wants of the senses was arranged and developed in the earliest ages; all that concerns the soul or the imagination is yet raw and ill-adjusted; and we behold in the high opinion which the Chinese entertain of themselves and their affairs, a terrible example of what must be the consequence when all behavior proceeds according to prescribed etiquette, when all knowledge and learning is a matter of rote directed to external applications, and the men of learning are so intimately connected with the government, and have their interest so much one with it, that a number of privileged doctors can regulate literature as a state magistrate does weights and measures.’ Of the Chinese government the same authority remarks—​‘the patriarchal system still lies at the foundation of it. Round the “Son of Heaven,” as they name the highest ruler, the wise of the land assemble as round their counselor and organ. So in the provinces (of which there are eighteen or nineteen, each as large as a considerable kingdom), the men of greatest sagacity gather round the presidents; each takes the fashion from his superior, and the lowest give it to the people. Thus one man exercises the sovereignty; a number of learned men gave the law, and invented in very early times a symbolical system of syllabic writing, suitable for their mono syllabic speech, in lieu of their primitive system of hieroglyphics. All business is transacted in writing, with minuteness and pedantry. Their written language is very difficult; and as it is possible in Chinese writing for one to know all the characters of a certain period of time, or of a certain department, and yet be totally unacquainted with those of another department, there is no end to their mechanical acquisition.’ It has already been mentioned that Chinese thought has at various times received certain foreign tinctures, chiefly from India; essentially, however, the Chinese mind has remained as it was fixed by Confucius. ‘In China,’ says Schlosser, ‘a so-named philosophy has accomplished that which in other countries has been accomplished by priests and religions. In the genuine Chinese books of religion, in all their learning and wisdom, God is not thought of; religion, according to the Chinese and their oracle and lawgiver Con-fu-tse has nothing to do with the imagination, but consists alone in the performance of outward moral duties, and in zeal to further the ends of state. Whatever lies beyond the plain rule of life is either a sort of obscure natural philosophy, or a mere culture for the people, and for any who may feel the want of such a culture. The various forms of worship which have made their way into China are obliged to restrict themselves, to bow to the law, and to make their practices conform; they can arrogate no literature of their own; and, good or bad, must learn to agree with the prevailing atheistic Chinese manner of thought.’

Such are the Chinese, and such have they been for 2000 or 3000 years—​a vast people undoubtedly civilized to the highest pitch of which Mongolian humanity is susceptible; of mild disposition; industrious to an extraordinary degree; well-skilled in all the mechanical arts, and possessing a mechanical ingenuity peculiar to themselves; boasting of a language quite singular in its character, and of a vast literature; respectful of usage to such a degree as to do everything by pattern; attentive to the duties and civilities of life, but totally devoid of fervor, originality, or spirituality; and living under a form of government which has been very happily designated a pedantocracy—​that is, a hierarchy of erudite persons selected from the population, and appointed by the emperor, according to the proof they give of their capacity, to the various places of public trust. How far these characteristics, or any of them, are inseparable from a Mongolian civilization, would appear more clearly if we knew more of the Japanese. At present, however, there seems little prospect of any reörganization of the Chinese mind, except by means of a Caucasian stimulus applied to it. And what Caucasian stimulus will be sufficient to break up that vast Mongolian mass, and lay it open to the general world-influences? Will the stimulus come from Europe; or from America after its western shores are peopled, and the Anglo-Americans begin to think of crossing the Pacific?

CAUCASIAN HISTORY.

While the Negro race seems to have retrograded from its original position on the earth, while the Mongolian has afforded the spectacle of a single permanent and pedantic civilization retaining millions within its grasp for ages in the extreme east of Asia, the Caucasian, as if the seeds of the world’s progress had been implanted in it, has worked out for itself a splendid career on an ever-shifting theatre. First attaining its maturity in Asia, the Caucasian civilization has shot itself westward, if we may so speak, in several successive throes; long confined to Asia; then entering northern Africa, where, commingling with the Ethiopian, it originated a new culture; again, about the year B. C. 1000, adding Europe to the stage of history; and lastly, 2500 years later, crossing the Atlantic, and meeting in America with a diffused and degenerate Mongolism. To understand this beautiful career thoroughly, it is necessary to observe the manner in which the Caucasians disseminated themselves from their central home—​to count, as it were, and note separately, the various flights by which they emigrated from the central hive. So far as appears, then, from investigations into language, etc., the Caucasian stock sent forth at different times in the remote past five great branches from its original seat, somewhere to the south of that long chain of mountains which commences at the Black Sea, and, bordering the southern coast of the Caspian, terminates in the Himalehs. In what precise way, or at what precise time, these branches separated themselves from the parent stock and from each other, must remain a mystery; a sufficiently clear general notion of the fact is all that we can pretend to. 1st. The Armenian branch, remaining apparently nearest the original seat, filled the countries between the Caspian and Black Seas, extending also round the Caspian into the territories afterwards known as those of the Parthians. 2d, The Indo-Persian branch, which extended itself in a southern and eastern direction from the Caspian Sea, through Persia and Cabool, into Hindoostan, also penetrating Bokhara. From this great branch philologists and ethnographers derive those two races, the distinction between which, although subordinate to the grand fivefold division of the Caucasian stock, is of immense consequence in modern history—​the Celtic and the Germanic. Pouring through Asia Minor, it is supposed that the Indo-Persian family entered Europe through Thrace, and ultimately, through the operation of those innumerable causes which reäct upon the human constitution from the circumstances in which it is placed, assumed the character of Celts and Germans—​the Celts being the earlier product, and eventually occupying the western portion of Europe—​namely, northern Italy, France, Spain and Great Britain—​still undergoing subdivision, however, during their dispersion, into Iberians, Gaels, Cymri, &c.; the Germans being a later off-shoot, and settling rather in the centre and north of Europe in two great moieties—​the Scandinavians and the Germans Proper. This seems the most plausible pedigree of the Celtic and Germanic races, although some object to it. 3d, The Semitic or Aramaic branch, which, diffusing itself southward and westward from the original Caucasian seat, filled Syria, Mesopotamia, Arabia, etc., and founded the early kingdoms of Assyria, Babylonia, Phœnicia, Palestine, etc. It was this branch of the Caucasian variety which, entering Africa by the Isthmus of Suez and the Straits of Babelmandel, constituted itself an element at least in the ancient population of Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia; and there are ethnographers who believe that the early civilization which lined the northern coasts of Africa arose from some extremely early blending of the Ethiopic with the Semitic, the latter acting as a dominant caste. Diffusing itself westward along the African coast as far as Mauritania, the Semitic race seems eventually, though at a comparatively late period, to have met the Celtic, which had crossed into Africa from Spain; and thus, by the infusion of Arameans and Celts, that white or tawny population which we find in northern Africa in ancient times, distinct from the Ethiopians of the interior, seems to have been formed. 4th, The Pelasgic branch, that noble family which, carrying the Greeks and Romans in its bosom, poured itself from western Asia into the south-east of Europe, mingling doubtless with Celts and Germans. 5th, The Scythian, or Slavonic branch, which diffused itself over Russia, Siberia, and the central plains of Asia, shading off in these last into the Mongolian Such is a convenient division of the Caucasian stock; a more profound investigation, however, might reduce the five races to these two—​the Semitic and the Indo-Germanic; all civilized languages being capable, it is said, of being classified under these three families—​the Chinese, which has monosyllabic roots; the Indo-Germanic (Sanscrit, Hindoostanee, Greek, Latin, German, and all modern European languages), which has dissyllabic roots; and the Semitic (Hebrew, Arabic, &c.), whose roots are trisyllabic. Retaining, however, the fivefold distribution which we have adopted, we shall find that the history of the world, from the earliest to the remotest times, has been nothing else than the common Caucasian vitality presenting itself in a succession of phases or civilizations, each differing from the last in the proportions in which it contains the various separate elements.

It is advisable to sketch first the most eastern Caucasian civilization—​that is, that of India; and then to proceed to a consideration of the state of that medley of nations, some of them Semitic, some of them Indo-Persian, and some of them Armenian, out of which the great Persian empire arose, destined to continue the historic pedigree of the world into Europe, by transmitting its vitality to the Pelasgians.

Ancient India. One of the great branches, we have said, of the Caucasian family of mankind was the Indo-Persian, which, spreading out in the primeval times from the original seat of the Caucasian part of the human species, extended itself from the Caspian to the Bay of Bengal, where, coming into contact with the southern Mongolians, it gave rise, according to the most probable accounts, to those new mixed Caucasian-Mongolian races, the Malays of the Eastern Peninsula; and, by a still farther degeneracy, to the Papuas, or natives of the South Sea Islands. While thus shading off into the Mongolism of the Pacific, the Indo-Persian mass of our species was at the same time attaining maturity within itself; and as the first ripened fragment of the Mongolians had been the Chinese nation, so one of the first ripened fragments of the Indo-Persian branch of the Caucasians seems to have been the Indians. At what time the vast peninsula of Hindoostan could first boast a civilized population, it is impossible to say; all testimony, however, agrees in assigning to Indian civilization a most remote antiquity. Another fact seems also to be tolerably well authenticated regarding ancient India; namely, that the northern portions of it, and especially the north-western portions, which would be nearest the original Caucasian seat, were the first civilized; and that the civilizing influence spread thence southwards to Cape Comorin.

Notwithstanding this general conviction, that India was one of the first portions of the earth’s surface that contained a civilized population, few facts in the ancient history of India are certainly known. We are told, indeed (to omit the myths of the Indian Bacchus and Hercules), of two great kingdom—​those of Ayodha (Oude) and Prathisthana (Vitera)—​as having existed in northern India upwards of a thousand years before Christ; of conquests in southern India, effected by the monarchs of these kingdoms; and of wars carried on between these monarchs and their western neighbors the Persians, after the latter had begun to be powerful. All these accounts, however, merely resolve themselves into the general information, that India, many centuries before Christ, was an important member in the family of Asiatic nations; supplying articles to their commerce, and involved in their agitations. Accordingly, if we wish to form an idea of the condition of India prior to that great epoch in its history—​its invasion by Alexander the Great, B. C. 326—​we can only do so by reasoning back from that we know of its present condition, allowing for the modifying effects of the two thousand years which have intervened; and especially for the effects produced by the Mohammedan invasion, A. D. 1000. This, however, is the less difficult in the case of such a country as India, where the permanence of native institutions is so remarkable, and though we cannot hope to acquire a distinct notion of the territorial divisions, etc., of India in very ancient times, yet, by a study of the Hindoos as they are at present, we may furnish ourselves with a tolerably accurate idea of the nature of that ancient civilization which overspread Hindoostan many centuries before the birth of Christ, and this all the more probably that the notices which remain of the state of India at the time of the invasion of Alexander, correspond in many points with what is to be seen in India at the present day.

The population of Hindoostan, the area of which is estimated at about a million square miles, amounts to about 120,000,000; of whom about 100,000,000 are Hindoos or aborigines, the remainder being foreigners, either Asiatic or European. The most remarkable feature in Hindoo society is its division into castes. The Hindoos are divided into four great castes—​the Brahmins, whose proper business is religion and philosophy; the Kshatriyas, who attend to war and government; the Vaisyas, whose duties are connected with commerce and agriculture; and the Sudras, or artisans and laborers. Of these four castes the Brahmins are the highest; but a broad line of distinction is drawn between the Sudras and the other three castes. The Brahmins may intermarry with the three inferior castes—​the kshatriyas with the vaisyas and the Sudras; and the vaisyas with the Sudras; but no Sudra can choose a wife from either of the three superior castes. As a general rule, every person is required to follow the profession of the caste to which he belongs: thus the Brahmin is to lead a life of contemplation and study, subsisting on the contributions of the rich; the Kshatriya is to occupy himself in civil matters, or to pursue the profession of a soldier; and the Vaisya is to be a merchant or a farmer. In fact, however, the barriers of caste have in innumerable instances been broken down. The ramifications, too, of the caste system are infinite. Besides the four pure, there are numerous mixed castes, all with their prescribed ranks and occupations.

A class far below even the pure Sudras is the Pariahs or outcasts; consisting of the refuse of all the other castes, and which, in process of time, has grown so large as to include, it is said, one-fifth of the population of Hindoostan. The Pariahs perform the meanest kinds of manual labor. This system of castes—​of which the Brahmins themselves, whom some suppose to have been originally a conquering race, are the architects, if not the founders—​is bound up with the religion of the Hindoos. Indeed of the Hindoos, more truly than of any other people, it may be said that a knowledge of their religious system is a knowledge of the people themselves.

The Vedas, or ancient sacred books of the Hindoos, distinctly set forth the doctrine of the infinite and Eternal Supreme Being. According to the Vedas, there is ‘one unknown, true Being, all present, all powerful, the creator, preserver, and destroyer of the universe.’ This Supreme Being ‘is not comprehensible by vision, or by any other of the organs of sense, nor can he be conceived by means of devotion or virtuous practices.’ He is not space, nor air, nor light, nor atoms, nor soul, nor nature: he is above all these and the cause of them all. He ‘has no feet, but extends everywhere; has no hands, but holds everything; has no eyes, yet sees all that is; has no ears, yet hears all that passes. His existence had no cause. He is the smallest of the small and the greatest of the great; and yet is, in fact neither small nor great.’ Such is the doctrine of the Vedas in its purest and most abstract form; but the prevailing theology which runs through them is what is called Pantheism, or that system which speaks of God as the soul of the universe, or as the universe itself. Accordingly, the whole tone and language of the highest Hindoo philosophy is Pantheistic. As a rope, lying on the ground, and mistaken at first view for a snake, is the cause of the idea or conception of the snake which exists in the mind of the person looking at it, so, say the Vedas, is the Deity the cause of what we call the universe. ‘In him the whole world is absorbed; from him it issues; he is entwined and interwoven with all creation.’ ‘All that exists is God: whatever we smell, or taste, or see, or hear, or feel, is the Supreme Being.’

This one incomprehensible Being, whom the Hindoos designate by the mystical names Om, Tut, and Jut, and sometimes also by the word Brahm, is declared by the Vedas to be the only proper object of worship. Only a very few persons of extraordinary gifts and virtues, however, are able, it is said, to adore the Supreme Being—​the great Om—​directly. The great majority of mankind are neither so wise nor so holy as to be able to approach the Divine Being himself, and worship him. It being alleged that persons thus unfortunately disqualified for adoring the invisible Deity should employ their minds upon some visible thing, rather than to suffer them to remain idle, the Vedas direct them to worship a number of inferior deities, representing particular acts or qualities of the Supreme Being; as, for instances, Crishnu or Vishnu, the god of preservation; Muhadev, the god of destruction; or the sun, or the air, or the sea, or the human understanding; or, in fact any object or thing which they may choose to represent as God. Seeing, say the Hindoos, that God pervades and animates the whole universe, everything, living or dead, may be considered a portion of God, and as such, it may be selected as an object of worship, provided always it be worshiped only as constituting a portion of the Divine Substance. In this way, whatever the eye looks on, or the mind can conceive, whether it be the sun in the heavens or the great river Ganges, or the crocodile on its banks, or the cow, or the fire kindled to cook food, or the Vedas, or a Brahmin, or a tree, or a serpent—​all may be legitimately worshiped as a fragment, so to speak, of the Divine Spirit. Thus there may be many millions of gods to which Hindoos think themselves entitled to pay divine honours. The number of Hindoo gods is calculated at 330,000,000, or about three times the number of their worshipers.

Of these, the three principal deities of the Hindoos are Brahma the creator, Vishnu the preserver, and Seeb or Siva the destroyer. These three of course, were originally intended to represent the three great attributes of the Om or Invisible Supreme Being—​namely, his creating, his preserving, and his destroying attributes. Indeed the name Om itself is a compound word, expressing the three ideas of creation, preservation, and destruction, all combined. The three together are called Trimurti, and there are certain occasions when the three are worshiped conjointly. There are also sculptured representations of the Trimurti, in which the busts of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva are cut out of the same mass of stone. One of these images of the Trimurti is found in the celebrated cavern temple of Elephanta, in the neighborhood of Bombay, perhaps the most wonderful remnant of ancient Indian architecture. Vishnu and Siva are more worshipped separately than Brahma—​each having his body of devotees specially attached to him in particular.

Hindooism, like other Pantheistic systems, teaches the doctrine of the transmigration of souls: all creation, animate and inanimate, being, according to the Hindoo system, nothing else but the deity Brahm himself parceled out, as it were, into innumerable portions and forms (when these are reunited, the world will be at an end), just as a quantity of quicksilver may be broken up into innumerable little balls or globules, which all have a tendency to go together again. At long intervals of time, each extending over some thousand millions of years, Brahm does bring the world to an end, by reäbsorbing it into his spirit. When, therefore, a man dies, his soul, according to the Hindoos, must either be absorbed immediately into the soul of Brahm, or it must pass through a series of transmigrations, waiting for the final absorption, which happens at the end of every universe, or at least until such time as it shall be prepared for being reunited with the Infinite Spirit. The former of the two is, according to the Hindoos, the highest possible reward: to be absorbed into Brahm immediately upon death, and without having to undergo any farther purification, is the lot only of the greatest devotees. To attain this end, or at least to avoid degradation after death, the Hindoos, and especially the Brahmins, who are naturally the most intent upon their spiritual interests, practice a ritual of the most intricate and ascetic description, carrying religious ceremonies and antipathies with them into all the duties of life. So overburdened is the daily life of the Hindoos with superstitious observances with regard to food, sleep, etc., that, but for the speculative doctrines which the more elevated minds among the Brahmins may see recognised in their religion, the whole system of Hindooism might seem a wretched and grotesque polytheism.

A hundred millions of people professing this system, divided into castes as now, and carrying the Brahminical ritual into all the occupations of lazy life under the hot sun, and amid the exuberant vegetation of Hindoostan—​such was the people into which Alexander the Great carried his conquering arms; such, doubtless, they had been for ages before that period; and such did they remain, shut out from the view of the rest of the civilized world, and only communicating with it by means of spices, ivory, etc., which found their way through Arabia or the Red Sea to the Mediterranean, till Vasco de Gama rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and brought Europe and India into closer connection. Meanwhile a Mohammedan invasion had taken place (A. D. 1000); Mohammedans from Persia had mingled themselves with the Hindoos; and it was with this mixed population that British enterprise eventually came into collision.

Ere quitting the Indians, it is well to glance back at the Chinese, so as to see wherein these two primeval and contemporaneous consolidations of our species—​the Mongolian consolidation of eastern Asia, and the Caucasian consolidation of the central peninsula of southern Asia—​differ. ‘Whoever would perceive the full physical and moral difference,’ says Klaproth, ‘between the Chinese and Indian nations, must contrast the peculiar culture of the Chinese with that of the Hindoo, fashioned almost like a European, even to his complexion. He will study the boundless religious system of the Brahmins, and oppose it to the bald belief of the original Chinese, which can hardly be named religion. He will remark the rigorous division of the Hindoos into castes, sects, and denominations, for which the inhabitants of the central kingdom have even no expression. He will compare the dry prosaic spirit of the Chinese with the high poetic souls of the dwellers on the Ganges and the Dsumnah. He will hear the rich and blooming Sanscrit, and contrast it with the unharmonious speech of the Chinese. He will mark, finally, the literature of the latter, full of matters of fact and things worth knowing, as contrasted with the limitless philosophic-ascetic writing of the Indians, who have made even the highest poetry wearisome by perpetual length.’

History of the Eastern Nations till their Incorporation in the Persian Empire. Leaving India—​that great fragment of the original Caucasian civilization—​and proceeding westward, we find two large masses of the human species filling in the earliest times the countries lying between the Indus and the Mediterranean—​namely, an Indo-Persian mass filling the whole tract of country between the Indus and the Tigris; and a Semitic-Aramaic mass filling the greater part of lesser Asia and the whole peninsula of Arabia, and extending itself into the parts of Africa adjoining the Red Sea. That in the most remote ages these lands were the theatres of a civilized activity is certain, although no records have been transmitted from them to us, except a few fragments relative to the Semitic nations. The general facts, however, with regard to these ante-historic times, seem to be: 1st, That the former of the two masses mentioned—​namely, the population between the Indus and the Caspian—​was essentially a prolongation of the great Indian nucleus, possessing a culture similar to the Indian in its main aspects, although varied, as was inevitable, by the operation of those physical causes which distinguish the climate of Persia and Cabool from that of Hindoostan; 2d, That the Semitic or Aramaic mass divided itself at a very early period into a number of separate peoples or nations, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Phœnicians, the Jews, the Arabians, etc., and that each of these acquired a separate development, and worked out for itself a separate career; 3d, That upwards of a thousand years before Christ the spirit of conquest appeared among the Semitic nations, dashing them violently against each other; and that at length one Semitic fragment—​that is, the Assyrians—​attained the supremacy over the rest, and founded a great dominion, called the Assyrian empire, which stretched from Egypt to the borders of India (B. C. 800); and 4th, That the pressure of this Semitic power against the Indo-Persic mass was followed by a reäction—​one great section of the Indo-Persians rising into strength, supplanting the Assyrian empire, and founding one of their own, called the Persian empire (B. C. 536), which was destined in its turn to be supplanted by the confederacy of Grecian states in B. C. 326.

Beginning with Egypt, let us trace separately the career of each of the Eastern nations till that point of time at which we find them all embodied in the great Persian empire:—

The Egyptians. Egypt, whose position on the map of Africa is well known, is about 500 miles long from its most northern to its most southern point. Through its whole length flows the Nile, a fine large stream rising in the inland kingdom of Abyssinia, and, from certain periodic floods to which it is subject, of great use in irrigating and fertilizing the country. A large portion of Egypt consists of an alluvial plain, similar to our meadow grounds, formed by the deposits of the river, and bounded by ranges of mountains on either side. The greatest breadth of the valley is 150 miles, but generally it is much less, the mountain ranges on either side often being not more than a few miles from the river.

A country so favorably situated, and possessing so many advantages, could not but be among the earliest peopled; and accordingly, as far back as the human memory can reach, we find a dense population of a very peculiar character inhabiting the whole valley of the Nile. These ancient Egyptians seem, as we have already said, to have been a mixture of the Semitic with the Ethiopic element, speaking a peculiar language, still surviving in a modified form in the Coptic of modern Egypt. In the ancient authors, however, the Egyptians are always distinguished from the Ethiopians, with whom they kept up so close an intercourse, that it has been made a question whether the Egyptian institutions came from the Ethiopian Meroe, or whether, as is more probable, civilization was transmitted to Ethiopia from Egypt.

The whole country is naturally divided into three parts—​Upper Egypt, bordering on what was anciently Ethiopia; Middle Egypt; and Lower Egypt, including the Delta of the Nile. In each there were numerous cities in which the population was amassed: originally Thebes, a city of Upper Egypt, of the size of which surprising accounts are transmitted to us, and whose ruins still astonish the traveler, was the capital of the country; but latterly, as commerce increased, Memphis in Middle Egypt became the seat of power. After Thebes and Memphis, Ombi, Edfou, Esneh, Elephantina, and Philoe seem to have been the most important of the Egyptian cities.

Our accounts of the Egyptian civilization are derived chiefly from the Greek historian Herodotus (B. C. 408), who visited Egypt and digested the information which he received from the priests as to its ancient history; and Manetho, a native Egyptian of later times, who wrote in Greek. From their accounts it is inferred that the country was anciently divided into thirty-six sections or provinces called nomes—​ten in Upper, sixteen in Middle, and ten in Lower Egypt. ‘Many of the separate nomes were of considerable substantive importance, and had a marked local character each to itself, religious as well as political; though the whole of Egypt, from Elephantine to Pelusium and Kanopus, is said to have always constituted one kingdom.’ Of this kingdom, the population, according to a rough estimate, may have been about seven millions. The government was a monarchy based on an all-powerful priesthood, similar to the Brahminical system of India; and, as in India, the most striking feature in the Egyptian society was the division of the people into hereditary castes. ‘The population of Egypt,’ says Mr Grote in his History of Greece, ‘was classified into certain castes or hereditary professions, of which the number is represented differently by different authors. The priests stand clearly marked out as the order richest, most powerful, and most venerated, distributed all over the country, and possessing exclusively the means of reading and writing, besides a vast amount of narrative matter treasured up in the memory, the whole stock of medical and physical knowledge then attainable, and those rudiments of geometry (or rather land-measuring) which were so often called into use in a country annually inundated. To each god and to each temple throughout Egypt, lands and other properties belonged, whereby the numerous band of priests attached to him were maintained. Their ascendancy, both direct and indirect, over the minds of the people was immense; they prescribed that minute ritual under which the life of every Egyptian, not excepting the king himself, was passed, and which was for themselves more full of harassing particularities than for any one else. Every day in the year belonged to some particular god, and the priests alone knew to which. There were different gods in every nome, though Isis and Osiris were common to all; and the priests of each god constituted a society apart, more or less important, according to the comparative celebrity of the temple. The property of each temple included troops of dependents and slaves, who were stamped with “holy marks,” and who must have been numerous, in order to suffice for the service of the large buildings and their constant visitors.

Next in importance to the sacerdotal caste were the military caste or order, whose native name indicated that they stood on the left hand of the king, while the priests occupied the right. They were classified in Kalasires and Hermotybii, who occupied lands in eighteen particular nomes or provinces, principally in Lower Egypt. The Kalasiries had once amounted to 160,000 men, the Hermotybii to 250,000, when at the maximum of their population; but that highest point had long been past in the time of Herodotus. To each man of this soldier-caste was assigned a portion of land, equal to about 6½ English acres, free from any tax. The lands of the priests and the soldiers were regarded as privileged property, and exempt from all burdens; while the remaining soil was considered as the property of the king, who however, received from it a fixed proportion—​one-fifth of the total produce—​leaving the rest in the hands of the cultivators. The soldiers were interdicted from every description of art and trade.’

The other castes are differently given in different authors; the most probable account, however, is that which assigns them as three—​the caste of the husbandmen, that of the artificers, and that of the herdsmen, which last caste included a variety of occupations held in contempt, the lowest and most degraded of all being that of swineherd. The separation between the husbandmen and the herdsmen seems to have arisen from the circumstance that different parts of the country, not suitable for agriculture, were entirely laid out in pasture. The artificers, constituting the vast town population of Egypt, were subdivided into a great variety of occupations, weavers, masons, sculptors, etc., who were compelled to these professions by hereditary obligation. It was by the labor of this vast town population, assisted by that of herds of slaves, that those huge works were accomplished, the remains of which attest the greatness of ancient Egypt. Part of the artisan population were exclusively occupied in skilled labor; and in a country where there was such a taste for works of masonry, sculpture was necessarily one of the most largely-stocked of the skilled occupations. ‘Perfect exactness of execution,’ it is said, ‘mastery of the hardest stone, and undeviating obedience to certain rules of proportion, are general characteristics of Egyptian sculpture. There are yet seen in their quarries obelisks not severed from the rock, but having three of their sides already adorned with hieroglyphics, so certain were they of cutting off the fourth side with precision.’ These skilled artificers may be supposed to have acted as foremen and overseers of the great numbers of laborers who were employed in public works such as the Pyramids. In the construction of these works no degree of labor for any length of time seems to have intimidated the Egyptians. The huge blocks of stone, sometimes weighing 1000 tons each, were dragged for hundreds of miles on sledges, and their transport, perhaps, did not occupy less time than a year; in one case which is known, 2000 men were employed three years in bringing a single stone from a quarry to the building in which it was to be placed. Usually, the sledges were drawn by men yoked in rows to separate ropes, all pulling at a ring fixed to the block. Where it was possible, the blocks were brought from the quarries on flat-bottomed boats on the Nile. But the transport of these masses was much more easily accomplished than the placing of them in elevated situations in the buildings. They were raised by the power of levers and inclined planes at immense trouble and cost. The waste of human life in these gigantic works must have been enormous. About 120,000 men are said to have perished in the digging of a canal, which was left unfinished, between the Red Sea and an arm of the Nile; and according to Herodotus, the Egyptian priests of his day described the building of the Pyramids as a time of extreme exhaustion and hardship to the whole country.

The religion of the Egyptians seems to have been, in its popular form at least, a mere gross Fetishism, whose principal characteristic was a worship of teeming animal life—​the bull, the cat, the ibis, the crocodile, etc.; different animals in different nomes. Whatever profounder meaning lay hid under this gross ceremonial the priest-caste reserved to themselves, as one of the mysteries, the possession of which severed them from the rest of the population. Among these mysteries was the art of writing, which was practised both in the alphabetical and the hieroglyphic form; the latter being used for special purposes. Some vague notion of the immortality of the soul, resembling the Hindoo tenet of transmigration, seems to have pervaded the Egyptian religion; and this belief appears to have lain at the foundation of the Egyptian practice of embalming the dead. The business of embalming was a very dignified one, and was aided by a host of inferior functionaries, who made and painted coffins and other articles which were required. The bodies of the poorer classes were merely dried with salt or natron, and wrapt up in coarse cloths, and deposited in the catacombs. The bodies of the rich and great underwent the most complicated operations, wrapt in bandages dipped in balsam, and laboriously adorned with all kinds of ornaments. Thus prepared they were placed in highly-decorated cases or coffins, and then consigned to sarcophagi in the catacombs or pyramids. Bodies so prepared have been called mummies, either from the Arabian word momia, or the Coptic mum, signifying bitumen or gum-resin.

Although the Egyptians carried on from early times a caravan-commerce with the adjacent countries of Phœnicia, Palestine, and Arabia, importing such articles as wine, oil, and spices for embalming, yet exclusiveness and self-sufficiency were characteristics of their civilization. There, on the banks of the Nile, these millions lived, changeless in their methods through centuries, each individual mechanically pursuing the occupation to which he was born—​millions cultivating the soil, and producing wheat, etc., for the subsistence of the whole: others tending the cattle necessary for food or sacrifice; millions, again, crowded into the numerous towns, occupied in the various handicrafts necessary to provide articles of clothing, luxury, etc.—​a large proportion of this class being available for stupendous architectural works; and lastly, diffused through these country and town populations, two other proprietor-castes—​the one a militia, occupied in gymnastic exercises alone; the other a sacerdotal or intellectual order, within whose body was accumulated all the speculative or scientific wisdom of the country. Relations existed between Egypt and the adjacent countries; and rumours of the nature of its peculiar civilization may have spread through the nations of the Mediterranean; but for a long while it was shut, like the present China, against foreign intrusion; and it was not till about the year 650 B. C. that it was thrown open to general inspection. In the sixth and fifth centuries B. C., the philosophers of other countries, and especially of Greece, used to visit Egypt in order to acquire, by intercourse with the Egyptian intellectual caste, some of that precious knowledge of which they were believed to be the depositaries.

Although the Egyptian civilization is known to have existed pretty much as we have described it from immemorial antiquity, yet, with the exception of what we learn from Scripture, we know little of Egyptian history, properly so called, anterior to the time when the country was thrown open to the Greeks. Herodotus and Manetho, indeed, have given us retrospective lists of the Egyptian kings, extending back into the primitive gloom of the world; but portions of these lists are evidently constructed backwards on mythical principles. Thus Manetho, preserving doubtless the traditions of the sacerdotal Egyptian caste, to which he is supposed to have belonged, carries back the imagination as far as 30,000 years before the birth of Christ. From this date till B. C. 5702, great divine personages ruled in Egypt; then (B. C. 5702) it came into the possession of human kings, the first of which was Menes. From the accession of Menes down to the incorporation of Egypt with the Persian empire (B. C. 525), Herodotus assigns 330 kings, or, as they are called in Scripture, Pharaohs, whose names he informs us, were read to him out of a papyrus manuscript by the Egyptian priests, who pledged themselves to its accuracy; and Manetho reckons up twenty-six dynasties, some of them native and others foreign, which divided the long period into portions of different lengths.

Arabia. The great peninsula of Arabia was in the earliest times inhabited by a population of the Semitic stock, in all essential respects similar to that which inhabits it now, partly concentrated in cities, partly wandering in tribes through the extensive deserts which mark the surface of the country. The inhabitants of the towns subsist by agriculture and commerce; the wandering tribes by cattle rearing and pillage. In ancient times, as now, the Arabs were celebrated for their expert horsemanship, their hospitality, their eloquence, and their free indomitable spirit. In religion, however, the modern Arabs, who are Mohammedans, differ from the ancient Arabs, who were idolaters, chiefly worshippers of the celestial luminaries, nowhere so beautiful as in the sky of an Arabian desert. The Arabs themselves trace their history back, the older tribes to Kahtan (the Joktan of the 10th chapter of Genesis), the latter to Adnan, a descendant of Ishmael, the offspring of Abraham. It is unnecessary, however, to enter into this history, as Arabia was not incorporated with the Persian empire, and only assumed historical importance in later times, when it sent forth the religion of Mohammed over the East.

Syria. The Semitic or Aramaic population overspreading Syria—​which name is generally applied to the country lying between the Euphrates and Arabian desert on the east, and the Mediterranean on the west—​had early divided itself into various independent states or kingdoms, which ultimately resolved themselves, it would appear, into three. These were Phœnicia, a narrow strip of coast-land, extending from Mount Carmel to the river Eleutheros; Palestine, or the Holy Land, including the country south of Phœnicia, between the Arabian desert and the Mediterranean, as well as the inland district lying between Mount Carmel and Mount Herman; and Syria Proper, whose capital was Damascus, and which, when the power of the Damascan kings was at its highest, included all the country except Palestine and Phœnicia. Syrian history possesses no independent importance; we pass, therefore, to the history of the Phœnician and Jewish nations.

The Phœnicians. Phœnicia was an exceedingly small country, its length being only about 120 miles, and its breadth nowhere greater than 20 miles. Indeed it may be described as a mere slip of coast-land, sufficiently large to accommodate a range of port towns, such as a merchant people required. The most northern of these Phœnician cities was Aradus, situated on a small island; the most southern was the famous Tyre; and between the two were situated many others, of which the chief were Sidon, Berytus, Tripolis, and Byblus. The greater part of the population was contained in these cities, the rural population being small in proportion.

Originally, Phœnicia was divided into a number of little states or communities, each having a town for its metropolis, with a hereditary king of its own; and ere the country was restricted by the formation of the Jewish nation, the number of these Phœnician or Canaanitish principalities must have been considerable. The Phœnicians were a fragment of the Canaanites of Scripture; and doubtless in the annals of the separate Phœnician towns, such as Tyre, Sidon, and Aradus, were preserved record from the Phœnician point of view, of many of those ancient transactions which are related in the Scriptural account of the settlement of the Jews in Canaan. Without going back, however, into the remoter period of Phœnician history, one of the questions connected with which is, whether Tyre (founded, it was said, B. C. 2700) or Sidon was the more ancient town, let us give a summary view of the nature of the Phœnician civilization at the period of its highest celebrity—​namely, from B. C. 1200 to B. C. 700, at which time we find Tyre exercising a presiding influence over the other Phœnician communities.

The Phœnicians were the great trading nation of antiquity. Situated at so convenient a point on the Mediterranean, it devolved on them to transport to the sea-shore the commodities of the East, brought to them overland by Arabian and Egyptian caravans, and from the sea-shore to distribute them among the expecting nations of the west. Nor were they without valuable products of their own. The sand of their coasts was particularly suitable for the manufacture of glass; their bays abounded in species of fish which produced a fine purple dye—​the celebrated Tyrian purple of antiquity; and in various parts of the country there were excellent mines of iron and copper. It was, in fact, essential for the general interests of the race that the people inhabiting that portion of the Mediterranean coasts should devote themselves to commerce. In anticipation of this, as it might seem, the mountains of Libanus, which separated the narrow Phœnician territory from Syria, were stocked with the best timber, which, transported over the short distance which intervened between these mountains and the sea, abundantly supplied the demands of the Phœnician dockyards. There was something in the Phœnician character, also, which suited the requirements of their geographical position. Skillful, enterprising, griping in their desire for wealth, and in other respects resembling much their neighbors the Jews, to whom they were allied in race, and whose language was radically identical with their own—​theirs was essentially the merchant type of character.

Standing as the Phœnicians did as the people by whom the exchange between the East and the West was managed, a complete view of their life and manner of activity should embrace first, their relations with the East—​that is, their overland trade with Assyria, Arabia, Egypt, Persia, and India; secondly, their relations with the West—​that is, their maritime trade with the various nations of the Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts; and thirdly, the peculiar character of mind which either accompanied or resulted from the consciousness of such a position in the great family of mankind.

With regard to the overland trade of the Phœnicians with the Eastern countries, little requires to be said except that it was one attended with great risks—​the journey of a caravan across the deserts, and through the roaming tribes which separated Phœnicia from interior Asia, being a more serious enterprise than a long sea voyage. It is probable that the Phœnicians managed this commerce not in their own persons, but as wealthy speculative merchants, dealing in a skillful manner with the native Egyptian, Assyrian, or Arabian caravan-proprietors, with whom they maintained an understood connection. At the same time it is likely that they stimulated and regulated the Eastern commerce, by means of Phœnician agents or emissaries despatched into the interior with general instructions, just as in later times European agents were often despatched into the interior of Africa to direct the movements of native merchants. It was in their maritime trade with the West, however, that the Phœnicians chiefly exhibited the resources of their own character. Shipping the Oriental commodities, as well as their native products, at Tyre or Sidon, they carried them to all the coasts of the Mediterranean as far as Spain, selling them there at immense profit, and returning with freights of Western goods. With some of the nations of the Mediterranean their intercourse would be that of one civilized nation with another; with others, and especially with those of the West, it must have been an intercourse similar to that of a British ship with those rude islanders who exchange their valuable products for nails, bits of looking-glass, and other trifles. Whether their customers were civilized or savage, however, the Phœnicians reaped profits from them. Their aim was to monopolise the commerce of the Mediterranean. ‘If at any time,’ it is said, ‘their ships bound on a voyage observed that a stranger kept them company, or followed them in their track, they were sure to get rid of him, or deceive him if they could; and in this they went so far as to venture the loss of their ships, and even of their lives, so that they could but destroy or disappoint him; so jealous were they of foreigners, and so bent on keeping all to themselves. And to add to the dangers of the sea, and discourage other nations from trading, they practiced piracy, or pretended to be at war with such as they met when they thought themselves strongest.’ This policy succeeded so far, that hardly a merchant ship was to be seen in the Mediterranean not manned by Phœnicians. From this extension of the Phœnician commerce throughout the Mediterranean resulted, by necessity, an extensive system of colonization. The distance, for instance, of Spain from Phœnicia, rendered all the greater by the ancient custom of always sailing close by the coast, made it necessary for the Phœnician traders to have intermediate ports, settlement, or factories, to which their vessels might resort, not to say that such settlements were required for the collection of the produce which was to be taken back to Phœnicia. Accordingly, in process of time, Phœnician colonies were established at all available points of the Mediterranean—​on the coasts of Africa, Sicily, Sardinia, and Spain, and in the Balearic Islands; the rising maritime spirit of the Greeks excluding the Phœnicians from the Ægean and the coasts of Asia Minor. Among the most ancient of the colonies from Tyre were Carthage and Utica on the African coast, and Gades (Cadiz) in Spain; all of which were founded before the first of the Greek Olympiads (B. C. 884). From these afterwards arose smaller settlements, which diffused the Phœnician agency still more extensively among the uncivilized nations of Africa and western Europe. Gades in Spain, situated, according to the ancient mode of navigation, at a distance of seventy-five days’ sail from Tyre and Sidon—​a distance larger than that which now divides Liverpool from Bombay—​was a colony of special importance; first, as commanding the inland Spanish trade, particularly valuable at that time, inasmuch as the gold and silver mines of Spain caused it to be regarded as the Mexico or Peru of the ancient world; and secondly, as forming a point from which the Phœnician commerce could be still farther extended along the extra-Mediterranean shores. From this point, we are told, the Phœnician ships extended their voyages southward for thirty days’ sail along the coast of Africa, and northwards as far as Britain, where they took in tin from Cornwall, and even as far as the Baltic, where they collected amber. Upon what a scale of profit must these expeditions have been conducted, when, from Tyre to Cornwall, not a merchant ship besides those of the Phœnicians was to be seen! And who can tell what influence these Phœnician visits may have had on the then rude nations bordering the Atlantic?—​or how far these ante-historic Phœnician impulses may have stimulated the subsequent career of these nations? Like the visit of an English merchantman now to a South Sea Island, so must have been the visit of a Phœnician trading vessel 3000 years ago to the Britons of Cornwall.

As might be expected, this great merchant people were among the most cultured of antiquity, and especially skilled in all the arts of luxurious living. The 27th chapter of the book of Ezekiel presents a most striking picture of the pride and magnificence of the Tyrians, and embodies many minute particulars relative to Phœnician customs and mode of life. Indeed it has been pronounced the most early and most authentic record extant relative to the commerce of the ancients.

Among the contributions made by the Phœnicians to the west, were alphabetical writing, the Greek alphabet being a derivative from the Phœnician; the scale of weight; and that of coined money. Having made these and other contributions to the west, Phœnicia began about (700 B. C.) to decline in importance; the Ionian Greeks, and latterly the Egyptians, becoming its commercial rivals on the Mediterranean: and the invasions of the Assyrians from the east depriving it of independence. Subdued by the Assyrians and Babylonians, Phœnicia was transferred by them to the Persians. Among the last of the Phœnician achievements was the circumnavigation of Africa B. C. 600—​a feat undertaken by Phœnician sailors at the command of the Egyptian king Nekos, one of the immediate successors of Psammetik: and, as is now believed, really performed—​the course pursued being from the Red Sea round Africa to Spain—​the reverse, therefore, of that followed by Vasco de Gama 2000 years later. About the time that Phœnicia began to wane, her colony, Carthage, assumed her place in the affairs of the world. Carthaginian civilization was essentially a mere repetition of the Phœnician, although under a different form of government; Carthaginian history interweaves itself with that of the Romans.

Palestine—​the Jews. Palestine extends from north to south a length of about 200 miles, and 50 in breadth; and is therefore, in point of size, of nearly the same extent as Scotland. The general character of the country is that of a hilly region, interspersed with moderately fertile vales; and being thus irregular in surface, it possesses a number of brooks or streams, which for the most part are swollen considerably after rains, but are almost dry in the hot seasons of the year. The present condition of Palestine scarcely corresponds with its ancient fertility. This is chiefly attributable to the devastating effects of perpetual wars; and some physical changes have also contributed to the destruction of agricultural industry. Yet, after all, so excellent would the soil appear to be, and so ample its resources, that Canaan may still be characterized as a land flowing with milk and honey.

The history of the extraordinary nation which once inhabited this land, must be so much more familiar to our readers than that of any other ancient nation, that all that is necessary here is a brief sketch, such as will assist the imagination in tracing with due completeness the general career of the East till the establishment of the Persian empire. According to the accounts given of the Jews in Scripture, and in their history by Josephus, they were descended from Abraham, who was born in the 292d year (according to other authorities, in the 352d year) after the Deluge, ‘left the land of Chaldea when he was seventy-five years old, and, at the command of God, went into Canaan, and therein he dwelt himself, and left it to his posterity. He was a person of great sagacity, both for understanding of all things and persuading his hearers, and not mistaken in his opinions; for which reason he began to have higher notions of virtue than others had, and he determined to renew and to change the opinion all men happened then to have concerning God; for he was the first that ventured to publish this notion, that there was but ONE God, the Creator of the universe; and that as to other gods, if they contributed anything to the happiness of men, that each of them afforded it only according to His appointment, and not by their own power. For which doctrines, when the Chaldæans and other people of Mesopotamia raised a tumult against him, he thought fit to leave that country, and at the command of God he came and lived in the land of Canaan. And when he was there settled, he built an altar, and performed a sacrifice to God.’ After the death of Abraham’s son Isaac, his younger son Jacob remained for a number of years in Canaan, surrounded by a family of twelve sons, one of whom, Joseph, as related in Scripture, became the cause of the removal of his father and brethren, and all belonging to them, into Egypt. The Hebrew emigrants were seventy in number, and formed at the first a respectable colony among the Egyptians. Jacob died after having been seventeen years in Egypt, and his body was carried by Joseph to Hebron, and buried in the sepulchre of his father and grandfather. Joseph also died in Egypt at the age of 110, and at length his brethren died likewise. Each of the twelve sons of Jacob became the progenitor of a family or tribe, and the twelve tribes, personified by the term Israel, continued to reside in Egypt, where they increased both in number and in wealth. Their rapid increase and prosperity soon excited the jealousy of the masters of the country; and from being in high favor, the different tribes gradually fell under the lash of power, and came to be treated as public slaves.

The entire body of Israelites, guided by Moses, fled from Egypt in the year 1490 before Christ, at a time when Thebes, Memphis, and the other magnificent cities of that country, were in all their glory. Proceeding in a north-easterly direction from Rameses (near the site of modern Cairo), they went through the level region of the land of Goshen (now a barren sandy plain) to the head of the Gulf of Suez, the western branch of the Red Sea. Here they crossed in a miraculous manner to the opposite shore, to a spot now called the Wells of Moses, where, according to the Scripture narrative, they sang their song of thanksgiving for their deliverance. The country in which they had now arrived was a portion of Arabia Petræa, consisting of a dismal barren wilderness, now called the Desert of Sinai, from the principal mountain which rises within it. From the point at which the Israelites had crossed the Red Sea from Egypt, they were conducted by a most circuitous and tedious route towards the Promised Land of Canaan.

The country on the shore of the Mediterranean which was allotted as a settlement to this people, was at that time occupied by many warlike tribes, who had grown strong in its fertile plains and valleys; and the generation of the Hebrews who were conducted into it were compelled to fight for its possession. The struggle was not of long continuance. The whole land was conquered in the year B. C. 1450.

According to the account given in the 26th chapter of the book of Numbers, the Hebrew nation thus brought out of the land of Egypt and settled in Canaan amounted to 601,730 souls, unto whom the land was divided for an inheritance, according to the number of individuals in the respective tribes.

Moses dying before the inheritance was entered upon, was succeeded by Joshua as a leader, and by him the Israelites were conducted across the Jordan. The political government of the various tribes, after their conquest and settlement of Canaan, appears to have been republican, with military leaders called Judges; but these acted by the direction of the Priesthood, who were immediately counseled by the Deity within the sanctuary. This period of separate government in tribes, called the Period of the Judges, lasted 300 years (B. C. 1427–1112), and was one of daring actions and great deliverances—​the heroic age of the Jews.

The epoch of kings succeeded that of judges. The reign of Saul, their first monarch, though the people were stronger by being united, was gloomy and troubled. David, who succeeded, was a soldier and a conqueror. He rendered the Hebrews formidable to the whole of their enemies, and gave them a regular and defensible position, expelling their old antagonists from every part of the country. He left an empire peaceful, respected, and strong; and, what was of as much importance, he selected from among his sons a successor who was able to improve all these advantages, and to add to the progress which his countrymen had already made in prosperity. Under Solomon, the name of the Hebrew government being able to protect its subjects in other countries, the people and their king began to employ themselves in commerce. Their trade was at first engrafted on that of the Phœnicians of Tyre. A greater contrast cannot be imagined than between the troubles of the time of the Judges (only 100 years before), and the peace, security, and enjoyment of this reign. ‘And the king made silver to be in Jerusalem as stones, and cedars made he to be as sycamore trees that are in the vale for abundance; and Judah and Israel were many; as the sand which is by the sea-shore for multitude, eating, and drinking, and making merry.’ (1 Kings, x. 27.)

After the death of Solomon, the country fell into the same divisions which had weakened it in the time of the Judges. Each of the districts of North and South Israel was under a separate king, and the people were exposed both to the attacks of their enemies and to quarrels with each other. Their history is a succession of agitating conflicts for independence, and of unexpected and remarkable deliverances, of a similar nature to those of the earlier period, and they continued for about the same length of time (380 years); but they are marked by fewer of those traits of heroic devotion which distinguished the epoch of the Judges. The backslidings, errors, and misgovernment of their kings, is the chief and painful subject which is presented to us; and though these are relieved at times by the appearance of such monarchs as Josiah, Jehoshaphat, and Hezekiah, yet the whole history of this period is overcast with the gloominess of progressive decline.

By far the most delightful parts of it are those which relate to the lives of the prophets, who were raised up at intervals to warn the nation and its rulers of the fate which they incurred by forsaking the religion of their fathers. These inspired men sometimes sprang up from among the humblest classes of the community: one from the ‘herdsmen of Tekoa,’ another from ‘ploughing with twelve yoke of oxen;’ several were of the priestly order, and one (Isaiah) is said to have been of royal lineage; but the works of all are marked with the same sacredness, force, and authority. They reprehend their countrymen, in the most eloquent strains, at one time for idolatry, and at another for hypocrisy; and their indignation is expressed with the same freedom and dignity against the vices of the highest and the lowest.

Of the two kingdoms into which Palestine divided itself after the death of Solomon (B. C. 975), the northern, called the Kingdom of Israel, was conquered by the Assyrians of Nineveh (B. C. 722), who carried off many thousand of the people into captivity. Little is known of their fate. By some they are supposed to have been carried to India, by others to Tartary: ‘what became of all the Israelites of the ten tribes,’ is still a question with historians. The southern kingdom, called the kingdom of Judah, retained its independence till B. C. 588, when it was invaded and subdued by Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, who destroyed Jerusalem, and carried away a great number of the principal Jews into captivity at Babylon. On the subversion of the Babylonian dominion by Cyrus, seventy years afterwards, the captives, to the number of 42,360, were permitted to return to their own land, and rebuild Jerusalem. At this period, the whole of Palestine merged in the growing Persian empire.

The Assyrians and Babylonians. That large extent of level country situated between and on the banks of the two great rivers, the Euphrates and the Tigris, was in the earliest antiquity, the seat of a Semitic population living under an organized government. Of the cities, the most important ultimately were Babylon, built, by Nimrod, (B. C. 2217); and Nineveh (called Ninos by the Greeks), built either by Asshur or Nimrod about the same time, but afterwards rebuilt and enlarged, according to ancient tradition, by a great king, Ninus, (B. C. 1230). With these two cities as capitals, the country divided itself into two corresponding parts or kingdoms—​the kingdom of Assyria proper, including, besides part of Mesopotamia, the country to the right of the Tigris as far as Mount Zagros; and the kingdom of Babylonia, including the western part of Mesopotamia, together with the country to the left of the Euphrates as far as Syria proper. The two kingdoms, however, are often included under the joint name of Assyria; a word which, as well as the shorter form Syria, was often employed by the ancient Greek writers to designate the whole region lying along the courses of the two great rivers from the Black Sea to the northern angle of the Persian Gulf.

Although Babylon was according to Scripture, the earlier of the two powers, yet the Assyrians of Nineveh attained such strength under their hero Ninus, as to reduce the Babylonians to a species of dependence. Under Ninus, and his wife and successor the great conqueress Semiramis, says ancient mythical history, the city of the Tigris extended its dominions far and wide, from Egypt to the border of India. This empire, known in the common chronologies by the name of ‘The Assyrian Empire,’ lasted, according to the usual accounts, five or six centuries, during which it was governed, in the absolute Oriental manner, by the successors of Ninus and Semiramis. Of these several are mentioned in Scripture—​Phul, the contemporary of Menahem, king of Israel (B. C. 761), Tiglath Pileser (B. C. 730), both of whom were mixed up with the affairs of Israel and Judah; Salmanassar, cotemporary with Hezekiah, king of Judah, and Hoseah, king of Israel, by whom it was that Samaria was taken (B. C. 722), and the Israelites led into captivity (B. C. 722); and Sennacherib, or Sanherib (B. C. 714), who attacked Egypt, and whose fruitless invasion of Judah forms the subject of the striking narrative in the 18th and 19th chapters of the second book of Kings. The last of the great line of the Assyrian kings of Nineveh was the luxurious Sardanapalus, in whose reign the empire was dissolved, through the instrumentality of its revolted subjects the Medes (B. C. 626).

After Nineveh, the greatest city in the Assyrian dominion was Babylon. Even while under the dominion of the kings of Nineveh, Babylon appears to have possessed a special organization under its own chiefs, several of whose names—​such as Beldesis (B. C. 888), and Nabonassar (B. C. 747)—​have been preserved; and, together with the whole province of which it was the capital, to have pursued a special career. The peculiar element in the Babylonian society which distinguished it from that of Assyria proper, was its Chaldæan priesthood. ‘The Chaldæan order of priests,’ says Mr. Grote, ‘appear to have been peculiar to Babylon and other towns in its territory, especially between that city and the Persian Gulf; the vast, rich, and lofty temple of Belus in that city served them at once as a place of worship and an astronomical observatory; and it was the paramount ascendancy of this order which seems to have caused the Babylonian people generally to be spoken of as Chaldæans, though some writers have supposed, without any good proof, a conquest of Assyrian Babylon by barbarians called Chaldæans from the mountains near the Euxine. There were exaggerated statements respecting the antiquity of their astronomical observations,[2] which cannot be traced, as of definite and recorded date, higher than the era of Nabonassar (B. C. 747), as well as respecting the extent of their acquired knowledge, so largely blended with astrological fancies and occult influences of the heavenly bodies on human affairs. But however incomplete their knowledge may appear when judged by the standard of after-times, there can be no doubt that, compared with any of their cotemporaries of the sixth century B. C.—​either Egyptians, Greeks, or Asiatics—​they stood preëminent, and had much to teach, not only to Thales and Pythagoras, but even to later inquirers, such as Eudoxus and Aristotle. The conception of the revolving celestial sphere, the gnomon, and the division of the day into twelve parts, are affirmed by Herodotus to have been first taught to the Greeks by the Babylonians.’ This learned Chaldæan class seems to have pervaded the general mass of Babylonian society, as the corresponding priest-caste in Egypt pervaded Egyptian society, with this difference, that Babylonian society does not appear to have been parceled out like the Egyptian into a rigorous system of castes.

On the dissolution of the Assyrian empire of Nineveh by the Medes (B. C. 626), the Chaldæan fragment of it rose to eminence on its ruins, chiefly by the efforts of Nabopolassar, a viceroy of the last Assyrian king. Establishing Babylonia as an independent power in the east, Nabopolassar came into collision with Nekos, king of Egypt, who was at that time extending his empire into Asia. It was in opposing Nekos (Pharaoh-Necho) on his march to Babylon, that Josiah, king of Judah, was slain. At length (B. C. 608) Nebuchadnezzar, or Nebuchodonosor, the son of Nabopolassar, defeated Nekos, and annexed all his conquests in Asia to his father’s kingdom. Two years afterwards the same prince took Jerusalem, and carried away a number of captives to Babylon, among whom were Daniel and his companions. Succeeding his father, B. C. 605, Nebuchadnezzar reigned over Babylon forty-three years (B. C. 605–561); and during his reign extended the empire to the Mediterranean and the borders of Egypt, adding to it Palestine, Phœnicia, etc. With his countenance the Medes and Lydians destroyed Nineveh (B. C. 601). The great abduction of Jewish captives by his orders took place B. C. 588. He was succeeded (B. C. 561) by his son, Evil-Merodach, who was dethroned (B. C. 559) by his brother-in-law Neriglissar, whose son and successor, Laboroso-archod, was dethroned, after a brief reign, by Nabonnedus, the Belshazzar of Scripture (B. C. 555); in the eighteenth year of whose reign (B. C. 538) Babylon was taken by Cyrus, and passed into the hands of the Persians.

It was during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar that the city of Babylon attained that glory which has rendered it a known word to all who are at all acquainted with history. Herodotus, who saw the city in its decline, gives a description of it which has seemed incredible to many, although now fully verified. ‘The city, divided in the middle by the Euphrates, was surrounded with walls in thickness 75 feet, in height 300 feet and in compass 480 stadia, or about 60 of our miles.’ Within this circuit there was included, besides the houses, a space of vacant ground, gardens, pasture, etc., sufficient to accommodate the country population in case of invasion: the height and strength of the walls rendered the city itself to all appearance impregnable. ‘These walls formed an exact square, each side of which was 120 stadia, or 15 miles in length; and were built of large bricks cemented together with bitumen, a glutinous slime which issues out of the earth in that country, and in a short time becomes harder than the very brick or stone which it cements. The city was encompassed without the walls of a vast ditch filled with water, and lined with bricks on both sides; and as the earth that was dug out of it served to make the bricks, we may judge of the depth and largeness of the ditch from the height and thickness of the walls. In the whole compass of the walls there were a hundred gates—​that is, twenty-five on each side, all made of solid brass. At intervals round the walls were 250 towers. From each of the twenty-five gates there was a straight street extending to the corresponding gate, in the opposite wall; the whole number of streets was therefore fifty, crossing each other at right angles, and each fifteen miles long. The breadth of the streets was about 150 feet. By their intersection the city was divided into 676 squares, each about two miles and a quarter in compass, round which were the houses, three or four stories in height; the vacant spaces within being laid out in gardens,’ etc. Within the city the two greatest edifices were the royal palace with its hanging gardens, and the temple of Belus, composed of eight towers built one above another, to the enormous height, it is said, of a furlong.

Without the city were numerous canals, embankments, etc., for the purpose of irrigating the country, which, as little or no rain fell, depended on the river for moisture. ‘The execution of such colossal works as those of Babylon and Egypt,’ it has been remarked, ‘demonstrates habits of regular industry, a concentrated population under one government, and above all, an implicit submission to the regal and kingly sway—​contrasted forcibly with the small self-governing communities of Greece and western Europe, where the will of the individual citizen was so much more energetic.’ In the latter countries only such public works were attempted as were within the limits of moderate taste. Nineveh is said to have been larger even than Babylon, and is described as an oblong, three days’ journey round—​that is, upwards of 60 miles.

The Medes and Persians. Extending, as we have said, from the Mediterranean to the Indus, the Assyrian empire had included not only the chief Semitic nations of western Asia, but also that portion of the Indo-Germanic family which was contained between Mount Zagros and the river Indus. Essentially a prolongation of the great race which inhabited Hindoostan, the nature of their country—​a vast table-land, here and there rising into hills, or presenting spots of great fertility—​had made them quite different in character and habits from the settled and stereotyped Hindoos. All parts of this plateau of Iran, as it was called, including the present countries of Persia, Cabool, and Belochistan, were not alike; in some portions, where the soil was fertile, there existed a dense agricultural population; in others, the inhabitants were nomadic horse-breeders, cattle-rearers, and shepherds. All the tribes, however, were bound together by the ties of a common Indo-Persic language, quite distinct from that spoken by their Semitic neighbors and masters, and by a common religion. This religion, called the Religion of Zend, a modification probably of some more ancient form, from which Hindooism may also have sprung, was taught by Zerdusht or Zoroaster, a great native reformer and spiritual teacher, who lived six or seven centuries before Christ. The principal doctrine of his religion was that of the existence of two great emanations from the Supreme and perfect Deity—​the one a good spirit (Ormuzd), who created man, and fitted him for happiness; the other an evil spirit, named Ahriman, who has marred the beauty of creation by introducing evil into it. Between these two spirits and their adherents there is an incessant struggle for the mastery; but ultimately Ormuzd will conquer, and Ahriman and evil will be banished from the bosom of creation into eternal darkness. The worship annexed to this doctrine was very simple, dispensing with temples or images, and consisting merely of certain solemn rites performed on mountain tops, etc. Fire, and light, and the sun, were worshiped either as symbols or as inferior deities. A caste of priests, called the Magi, answering in some respects to the Brahmins of India or the Chaldæans of Babylon, superintended these ceremonies, and commented on the religion of Zoroaster.

Various of the tribes of Iran, associating themselves together, constituted little nations. Thus adjacent to Assyria, and separated from it by Mount Zagros, was an agglomeration of seven tribes or villages, under the special name of the Medes, the country which they inhabited being thence called Media. South from Media, and nearer the sea, was another district of Iran, called Persis or Persia, inhabited also by an association of tribes calling themselves the Persians. Other nations of Iran were the Parthians, the Bactrians, etc.—​all originally subject to the Assyrian empire.

Median history begins with a hero king called Deiokes (B. C. 710–657), who effected some important changes in the constitution of the nation, and founded the Median capital Ekbatana in one of the most pleasant sites in the world. His son, Phraortes (B. C. 657–635), pursued a career of conquest, subjugated Persia and other districts of Iran, and perished in an invasion of Assyria. He was succeeded by his son Cyaxares, who continued his designs of conquest, and extended the Median dominion as far westward into Asia Minor as the river Halys. He was engaged in a repetition of his father’s attempt against Nineveh, when he was called away to defend his kingdom against a great roving population, belonging, as is most likely, to the Scythian branch of the Caucasian race (although some reckon them Mongols), who, bursting with their herds of horses and mares from their native seat in Central Asia, had driven the Cimmerians, a kindred race, before them into Asia Minor, and then had poured themselves over the plateau of Iran. Defeating Cyaxares, they kept him from his throne for a period of twenty-eight years, during which they ruled in savage fashion over Media, Persia, etc. At length, having assassinated their chiefs by a stratagem, Cyaxares regained his dominions, and drove the invaders back into the north. He then renewed his attempt against Nineveh; took it; and reduced the Assyrian empire, with the exception of Babylonia, under his dominion. The Median empire, thus formed, he bequeathed (B. C. 595) to his son Astyages.

Astyages having given his daughter Mandane in marriage to a Persian chieftain named Cambyses, the issue of this marriage was the famous Cyrus, the founder of the Persian monarchy. The circumstances which led to the revolt of the Persians under Cyrus against the Medes, and the dethronement by him of his grand-father Astyages (B. C. 560), had been woven into a romance resembling the story of Romulus, even so early as the age of Herodotus (B. C. 408), so that that accurate historian could not ascertain the particulars. ‘The native Persians,’ says Mr. Grote, ‘whom Cyrus conducted, were an aggregate of seven agricultural and four nomadic tribes, all of them rude, hardy, and brave, dwelling in a mountainous region, clothed in skins, ignorant of wine or fruit, of any of the commonest luxuries of life, and despising the very idea of purchase or sale. Their tribes were very unequal in point of dignity; first in estimation among them stood the Pasargadæ; and the first clan among the Pasargadæ were the Achæmenidæ, to whom Cyrus belonged. Whether his relationship to the Median king whom he dethroned was a fact or a politic fiction we cannot well determine, but Xenophon gives us to understand that the conquest of Media by the Persians was reported to him as having been an obstinate and protracted struggle.’

Master of Media, the Persian chief in his turn became a great Oriental conqueror; indeed all the Oriental conquests bear the same character. A nomadic race, led by a chief of great abilities, invades the more organized states, and conquers them; the chief assumes the government, and founds a dynasty, which after a rule of several generations, becomes enervated, and gives way before some new nomadic incursion. The first power against which Cyrus turned his arms, after having subdued the Medes, was the famous Lydian kingdom, which then subsisted in Asia Minor under the great Crœsus. And here, therefore, we must give some account of the ancient condition of Asia Minor and its principalities.

States of Asia Minor—​The Lydians. The river Halys divided Asia Minor into two parts. East of the Halys, or near its source, were various nations of the Semitic stock—​Cappadocians, Cilicians, Pamphylians etc.—​each organized apart, but all included under the Assyrian, and latterly, as we have seen, under the Median empire. West of the Halys, the inhabitants were apparently of the Indo-Germanic race, although separated by many removes from the Indo-Germans of Persia. Overspreading this part of Asia Minor, as well as Thrace and other parts of south-eastern Europe, this great race had been broken up into fragments distinguished by characteristic differences. To enumerate these various nations, assigning to each its exact geographical limits, is impossible; the chief, however, were the Bithynians, a sort of Asiatic Thracians on the southern coast of the Euxine; the Lydians and Carians in the south-west; and, intermediate between the two, geographically as well as in respect of race and language, the Mysians and Phrygians. These were the native states; but along the whole Ægean shore was diffused a large Greek population, emigrants, it is believed, from European Greece, chiefly gathered into cities. These Greeks of Asia Minor were of three races—​the Æolic Greeks in the north, and the Ionian and Dorian Greeks in the south; and perhaps the earliest manifestations of Greek genius, political or literary, were among these Greeks of Asia. The intercourse of these Greeks with the native Lydians, Phrygians, etc., gave rise to mixture of population as well as to interchange of habits; the native music especially of the Lydians and Phrygians became incorporated with that of the Greeks.

When Lydia, with its capital Sardis, first began to be a powerful state, is not known; it is remarkable, however, that the Lydians are not mentioned in Homer. According to Herodotus, the Lydians traced their history back through three dynasties. 1st, The Atyadæ, from the earliest times to B. C. 1221; 2d, The Heracleidæ, from B. C. 122 to B. C. 716; and 3d, The Mermnadæ. Only the last dynasty is historic; the manner in which it succeeded to that of the Heracleidæ forms the subject of a curious Lydian legend.

The first king of the Mermoad dynasty was Gyges (B. C. 716–678), the second Ardys (B. C. 678–629), in whose reign the Cimmerians invaded Asia Minor, the third Sadyattes (B. C. 629–617), the fourth Alyattes (B. C. 617–560). Each of these Lydian kings was engaged in wars both with the Asiatic Greeks of the coast and the native states of the interior. The growth of the Lydian power was impeded by the Cimmerian invasion; but those savage nomades were at length expelled by Alyattes; and Crœsus, the son of Alyattes by an Ionian wife, having succeeded his father B. C. 560, soon raised himself to the position of a great potentate, ruling over nearly the whole country westward of the Halys, comprehending Æolian, Ionian, and Dorian Greeks; Phrygians; Mysians, Paphlagonians, Bithynians, Carians, Pamphylians, etc. At Sardis, the capital of this extensive dominion, was accumulated an immense treasure, composed of the tribute which the Lydian monarch derived from the subject states; hence the proverb, ‘as rich as Crœsus.’

Separated from the Median kingdom only by the river Halys, the Lydian dominion naturally became an object of desire to Cyrus after he had acquired the sovereignty of Media. Accordingly (B. C. 546), provoked by an invasion of Crœsus, who had received from the Delphic oracle the equivocal assurance, that ‘if he attacked the Persians he would subvert a mighty monarchy,’ Cyrus crossed the Halys, advanced into Lydia, took Sardis, and made Crœsus prisoner. It was intended by the conqueror that the Lydian king should be burnt alive—​it is even said that the fire was kindled for the purpose; Cyrus, however, spared his life, and Crœsus became his friend and confidential adviser. On the subversion of the Lydian monarchy, its subjects, the Greeks of Asia Minor, were obliged to submit to the conqueror, after having in vain solicited the aid of their brethren the European Greeks. The Lacedæmonians indeed sent an embassy into Asia Minor; and one of their ambassadors had a conference with Cyrus at Sardis, where he warned him ‘not to lay hands on any of the Greek towns, for the Lacedæmonians would not permit it.’ ‘Who are the Lacedæmonians?’ said the astonished warrior. Having been informed that the Lacedæmonians were a Greek people, who had a capital called Sparta, where there was a regular market, ‘I have never yet,’ said he, ‘been afraid of this kind of men, who have a set place in the middle of their city where they meet to cheat one another and tell lies. If I live, they shall have troubles of their own to talk about.’ To save themselves from the Persians, the Ionian portion of the Asiatic Greeks proposed a universal emigration to the island of Sardinia—​a striking design, which, however, was not carried into execution. All Asia Minor ultimately yielded to Cyrus.

The Persian Empire. Having subdued Asia Minor, Cyrus next turned his arms against the Assyrians of Babylon. His siege and capture of Babylon (B. C. 538), when he effected his entrance by diverting the course of the Euphrates, form one of the most romantic incidents in history; an incident connected with Scriptural narrative through its result—​the emancipation of the Jews from their captivity. Along with Babylon, its dependencies, Phœnicia and Palestine, came under the Persians.

Cyrus, one of the most remarkable men of the ancient world, having perished in an invasion of Scythia (B. C. 529), was succeeded by his son Cambyses, who annexed Egypt to the Persian empire (B. C. 525), having defeated Psammanitus, the son of the Pharaoh Amasis. Foiled in his intention of penetrating Libya and Ethiopia, Cambyses was dethroned by a Magian impostor, who called himself Smerdis, pretending that he was the younger brother of Cambyses, although this brother had been put to death by the order of Cambyses during a fit of madness. A conspiracy of seven great nobles having been formed against the false Smerdis, he was put to death. He was succeeded by one of the conspiring chiefs called Darius Hystaspes, who reigned—​over the immense Persian empire, extending from the Nile to the Indus, and beyond it—​from B. C. 531 to B. C. 485. ‘The reign of Darius,’ says Mr. Grote, ‘was one of organization, different from that of his predecessor—​a difference which the Persians well understood and noted, calling Cyrus “the father,” Cambyses “the master,” and Darius “the retail trader or huckster.” In the mouth of the Persians this last epithet must be construed as no insignificant compliment, since it intimates that he was the first to introduce some methodical order into the imperial administration and finances. Under the two former kings there was no definite amount of tribute levied upon the subject provinces. But Darius probably felt it expedient to relieve the provinces from the burden of undefined exactions. He distributed the whole empire into twenty departments (called Satrapies), imposing upon each a fixed annual tax. This, however, did not prevent each satrap (the Persian governor appointed by the king) in his own province from indefinite requisitions. The satrap was a little king, who acted nearly as he pleased in the internal administration of his province, subject only to the necessity of sending up the imperial tribute to the king at Susa, the capital of the Persian empire; of keeping off foreign enemies; and of furnishing an adequate military contingent for the foreign enterprises of the great king. To every satrap was attached a royal secretary or comptroller of the revenue, who probably managed the imperial finances in the province, and to whom the court of Susa might perhaps look as a watch upon the satrap himself. The satrap or the secretary apportioned the sum payable by the satrapy in the aggregate among the various component districts, towns, or provinces, leaving to the local authorities in each of these latter the task of assessing it upon individual inhabitants. From necessity, therefore, as well as from indolence of temper and political incompetence, the Persians were compelled to respect the authorities which they found standing both in town and country, and to leave in their hands a large measure of genuine influence. Often even the petty kings who had governed separate districts during their state of independence, prior to the Persian conquest, retained their title and dignity as tributaries to the court of Susa. The empire of the great king was thus an aggregate of heterogeneous elements, connected together by no tie except that of common fear and subjection—​noway coherent nor self-supporting, nor pervaded by any common system or spirit of nationality.’

Continuation through Greek and Roman History. How Darius, in consequence of the assistance rendered by the Athenians to the Ionian Greeks of Asia Minor, who had revolted against him (B. C. 502), sent a vast Persian army into European Greece; how this army was defeated by the Athenian general, Miltiades, with only 11,000 men, in the glorious battle of Marathon (B. C. 490); how, ten years later, Xerxes, the son and successor of Darius, undertook an expedition against Greece with a host of several millions, and was defeated by Themistocles in a naval battle at Salamis (B. C. 480), which was followed by two contemporaneous defeats of his lieutenants at Platæa and Mycale (B. C. 479); how the Persians were thus finally driven back into Asia; how for a century and a-half relations, sometimes hostile and sometimes friendly, were maintained between the Greek states and the Persian monarchs, the degenerate successors of Darius and Xerxes, under whom the empire had begun to crumble; how at length, in the reign of Darius Codomannus (B. C. 324), Alexander the Great retaliated on the Persians the wrongs they had done the Greeks by invading and destroying their decrepit empire, and organizing all the countries between the Adriatic and the Indus under, not a Semitic, as in the case of the Assyrian empire, nor an Indo-Germanic, as in the case of the Persic empire, but a Greek or Pelasgic system; how, on Alexander’s death (B. C. 323), this vast agglomeration of the human species fell asunder into three Greek monarchies—​the Macedonian monarchy, including the states of European Greece; the Egyptian monarchy of the Ptolemies, including, besides Egypt, Phœnicia, Palestine, and Arabia; and the Syrian monarchy of the Seleucidæ, comprehending, although with a weak grasp, Asia Minor (or at least parts of it which had belonged to the Lydian and Assyrian empires), Syria, Assyria, and Babylonia—​with the loss, however, of the countries between the Tigris and the Indus, where a germ of independence arose (B. C. 236) in a native nomad dynasty, which ultimately united all the tribes of Iran in one empire, called the Parthian Empire; and how these three fragments dragged on a separate existence, full of wars and revolts; all this belongs to Grecian history.

How, about two centuries and a half before Christ, another, but more mixed portion of this Pelasgic family, which had arisen in Italy, and in the course of several centuries rendered itself coëxtensive with that peninsula—​began to assume consequence in the wider area of the Mediterranean world: how it first grappled with the power of the Carthaginians (B. C. 264–201), who for several centuries had been pursuing the career of world-merchants, formerly pursued by their fathers the Phœnicians; how it then assailed and subdued the crumbling Macedonian monarchy, incorporating all Greece with itself (B. C. 134); how retrograding, so to speak, into Asia, it gradually absorbed the Syrian and Egyptian monarchies, till it came into collision with the Parthian empire at the Euphrates (B. C. 134-B. C. 60); how, advancing into the new regions of northern and western Europe, it compelled the yet uncultured races there—​the Celts or Gauls, the Iberians, etc.—​to enter the pale of civilization (B. C. 80–50); how thus, from the Atlantic to the Euphrates, was founded a new empire, called ‘The Roman,’ retaining, with vast additions, all that portion of humanity which the former empires had embraced, with the exception of what had lapsed back to the Parthians; how this empire subsisted for several centuries, a great mass of matured humanity girt by comparative barbarism—​that is, surrounded on the east by the Parthians, on the south by the Ethiopians, on the north by the Germans and Scythians, and on the west by the roar of the Atlantic; and how at last (A. D. 400–475) this great mass, having lost its vitality, fell asunder before the irruption of the barbaric element—​that is, the Germans, the Scythians, and the Arabs—​giving rise to the infant condition of the modern world; all this belongs to Roman history, which forms the subject of a separate treatise.

With one general remark we shall conclude; namely: that the progress of history—​that is, of Caucasian development—​has evidently been, upon the whole, from the east westward. First, as we have seen, the Assyrian or Semitic fermentation affected western Asia as far as the Mediterranean; then the Persian movement extended the historic stage to the Ægean; after that the Macedonian conquest extended it to the Adriatic; and finally, the Romans extended it to the Atlantic. For fifteen centuries humanity kept dashing itself against this barrier; till, at length, like a great missionary sent in search, the spirit of Columbus shot across the Atlantic. And now, in the form of a dominant Anglic race, though with large inter-mixture, Caucasian vitality is working in its newest method, with Ethiopian help, on the broad and fertile field of America.

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HISTORY OF GREECE—​EARLY MYTHOLOGY.

The history of the Grecian states commences about 1800 years before Christ, when the Egyptians on the opposite side of the Mediterranean were in a high state of civilization; but the portion of history which precedes 884 B. C. is understood to be fabulous, and entitled to little credit.

According to the Greek poets, the original inhabitants of the country, denominated Pelasgians, were a race of savages, who lived in caves, and clothed themselves with the skins of the wild beasts. Uranus, an Egyptian prince, landed in the country, and became the father of a family of giants, named Titans, who rebelled against, and dethroned him. His son Saturn, who reigned in his stead, in order to prevent the like misfortune from befalling himself, ordered all his own children to be put to death as soon as they were born. But one named Jupiter was concealed by the mother, and reared in the island of Crete, from which in time he returned, and deposed his father. The Titans, jealous of this new prince, rebelled against him, but were vanished and expelled for ever from the country.

Jupiter divided his dominions with his brothers Neptune and Pluto.

The countries which he reserved to himself he governed with great wisdom, holding his court on Mount Olympus, a hill in Thessaly, 9000 feet in height, and the loftiest in Greece. Any truth which there might be in the story of the Titans and their princes was completely disguised by the poets, and by the popular imagination. Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto, were looked back to, not as mortals, but as deities; and the top of Mount Olympus was supposed to be the heavenly residence of gods, by whom the affairs of mortals were governed. And for ages after the dawn of philosophy, these deified sons of Saturn, and numberless others connected with them, were the objects of the national worship, not only among the Greeks, but also among the Romans.

At an uncertain but very early date an Asiatic people named the Hellenes immigrated into Greece, in some cases expelling the Pelasgi, and in others intermingling with them, so that in process of time all the inhabitants of Greece came to be called Hellenes. They were, however, divided into several tribes the principal of which were the Dorians, Æolians, and Ionians, each of whom spoke a dialect differing in some respect from those made use of by the others. These dialects were named the Doric, Æolic, and Ionic, in reference to the tribes which used them; and a fourth, which was afterwards formed from the Ionic, was named the Attic, from its being spoken by the inhabitants of Attica.

In the year 1856 B. C., Inachus a Phœnician adventurer, is said to have arrived in Greece at the head of a small band of his countrymen. Phœnicia, a petty state on the coast of the Mediterranean, in Asia Minor, was at this time one of a few countries, including Egypt and Assyria, in which some degree of civilization prevailed, while all the rest of the people of the earth remained in their original barbarism like the Pelasgians before the supposed arrival of Uranus. Navigation for the purposes of commerce, and the art of writing, are said to have originated with the Phœnicans. On their arrival in Greece, Inachus and his friends founded the city of Argos, at the head of what is now called the Gulf of Napoli, in the Peloponnesus.

Three hundred years after this event (1556 B. C.), a colony, led by an Egyptian named Cecrops, arrived in Attica, and founded the celebrated city of Athens, fortifying a high rock which rose precipitously above the site afterwards occupied by the town.

Egypt is situated in the north-eastern part of Africa. It is bounded on the north by the Mediterranean Sea, and is watered by the great river Nile, the periodical overflowings of which by supplying the moisture necessary for vegetation, render the soil very fertile. From this country, which had at a very early period made considerable advances in some of the arts and sciences (see Ancient History), Cecrops imparted much valuable knowledge to the rude inhabitants of Attica, whom he had persuaded or obliged to acknowledge him as their chief or king. He placed his rocky fastness under the protection of an Egyptian goddess, from whose Greek name, Athena (afterwards changed by the Latins into Minerva), the city which subsequently rose around the eminence was called Athens.

About the year 1493 B. C., Cadmus, a Phœnician, founded the city of Thebes in Bœotia; and among other useful things which he communicated to the Greeks, he is said to have taught them alphabetical writing, although it is certain that that art did not come into common use in Greece until several centuries after this period.

The city of Corinth, situated on the narrow isthmus which connects the Peloponnesus with the mainland of Greece, was founded in the year 1520 B. C., and from its very advantageous position on the arm of the sea to which it anciently gave its name, but which is now known as the Gulf of Lepanto, it very soon became a place of considerable commercial importance. Sparta or Lacedæmon, the celebrated capital of Laconia in the Peloponnesus, is said to have been founded about 1520 B. C. by Lelex, an Egyptian.

In the year 1485 B. C., an Egyptian named Danaus, accompanied by a party of his countrymen, arrived at Argos, the inhabitants of which must have been at that period in an exceedingly rude state, since it is said that he excited their gratitude so much by teaching them to dig wells, when the streams from which they were supplied with water were dried up with the heat, that they elected him as their king.

Fully more than a century after this period (about 1350 B. C.), Pelops, the son of a king of Phrygia, a country in Asia Minor, settled in that part of Greece which was afterwards called from him Peloponnesus, or the island of Pelops, where he married the daughter of one of the native princes, whom he afterwards succeeded on the throne. In the course of his long reign, he found means to strengthen and greatly extend his influence in Greece, by forming matrimonial alliances between various branches of his own house and the other royal families of the Peloponnesus. Agamemnon, king of Mycenæ, in Argolis, who was, according to the poet Homer, the commander-in-chief of the Greeks at the siege of Troy, and Menelaus, king of Sparta, on account of whose wrongs that war was undertaken, were descended from this Phrygian adventurer.

Hercules, a Theban prince, was another of the descendants of Pelops.

The numerous and extraordinary feats of strength and valor of Hercules excited the admiration of his cotemporaries, and being afterwards exaggerated and embellished by the poets, caused him at length to be regarded as a person endowed with supernatural powers, and even to be worshiped as a god.

Theseus succeeded his father on the Athenian throne (1234 B. C.), and by his wise regulations greatly consolidated the strength and increased the prosperity of his kingdom. Cecrops, the founder of Athens, had divided Attica into twelve districts, each of which possessed its own magistracy and judicial tribunals. As the country advanced in wealth and population, these districts became less closely connected with each other, and at the period of the accession of Theseus, they could hardly be regarded in any other light than as so many little independent communities, whose perpetual disputes kept the whole district in broils and confusion. But Theseus had influence enough with all parties to obtain their consent to the abolition of the separate jurisdictions, and to the fixing of all civil and judicial authority in the capital. He at the same time voluntarily resigned into their hands a portion of his own power. Having divided the people into three classes—​the nobles, the artisans, and the cultivators of the soil—​he intrusted the first of these with the administration of public affairs, and the dispensation of justice, while he conferred upon every freeman or citizen, without distinction of class, a vote in the legislative assemblies. The command of the army, and the presidency of the state, he retained in his own person.

To strengthen the political union of the various districts of his kingdom by the tie of a common religion, he instituted a solemn festival, to be celebrated annually at Athens by all the inhabitants of Attica, in honor of Minerva, the tutelary deity of the city. This festival he denominated Panathenæ, or the Feast of all the Athenians, the name by which the whole of the people of Attica were thenceforth called.

The wise and liberal policy of Theseus caused Attica to advance considerably beyond the other states of Greece in prosperity and civilization; and the ancient historian, Thucydides, informs us that the Athenians were the first of the Greeks who laid aside the military dress and arms, which till now had been constantly worn. The example of Athens was not lost on the other Grecian communities, all of which gradually adopted, to a greater or less extent, those political institutions which had conferred so many advantages upon Attica.

Notwithstanding the judicious and exemplary conduct of Theseus in the early part of the reign, he appears to have afterwards allowed his restless and adventurous disposition to hurry him into many extravagances, and even crimes, by which he forfeited the respect of his people, and brought disgrace and suffering on his latter years. If we may believe the traditionary accounts, he accompanied Hercules in some of his celebrated expeditions, and assisted by Pirithoüs, a king of Thessaly, engaged in many martial and predatory adventures, conformably rather with the very imperfect morality and rude manners of the age, than with his own previous character. There reigned in Lacedæmon at this period a king named Tyndarus, who had a beautiful daughter called Helen, and according to the ancient historians, Theseus and his friend Pirithous formed the design of stealing away this young lady, and a princess of Epirus named Proserpine. They succeeded in carrying off Helen; but in their attempt to obtain Proserpine, they fell into the hands of her father, by whom Pirithoüs was put to death, and Theseus thrown into prison. Meanwhile, Castor and Pollux, the twin-brothers of Helen, who were afterwards deified, and whose names have been bestowed upon one of the signs of the Zodiac (Gemini), rescued their sister from the men to whom Theseus had given her in charge, and ravaged Attica in revenge for the injury they had received from its king.

Theseus was afterwards released from imprisonment by the assistance of Hercules, and returned home; but the Athenians had become so offended with his conduct, and were so angry at his having exposed them to ill treatment from the Lacedæmonians by his wicked attempt upon Helen, that they refused to receive him again as their sovereign. He therefore withdrew into exile, and soon after died in the island of Scyros. The Athenian people, however, never forgot the benefits he had in his wiser days conferred upon the state; and many centuries after his death, his bones, or some which were supposed to be his, were conveyed to Athens with great pomp, and a splendid temple was erected above them to his memory.

The Lacedæmonian princess who was stolen away by Theseus afterwards became the occasion of a celebrated war. The fame of her great beauty having spread far and wide, many of the princes of Greece asked her from her father Tyndarus in marriage; but he, being fearful of incurring the enmity of the rejected suitors, declined showing a preference for any of them. Assembling them all, he bound them by an oath to acquiesce in the selection which Helen herself should make, and to protect her against any attempts which might afterwards be made to carry her off from the husband of her choice. Helen gave the preference to Menelaus, a grandson of Pelops, and this successful suitor, on the death of Tyndarus, was raised to the Spartan throne.

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At this period, in the north-western part of Asia Minor, on the shores of the Hellespont and the Ægean Seas, there existed a kingdom, the capital of which was a large and well-fortified city named Troy, or Ilium. Priam the king of Troy, had a son whose name was Paris; and this young chief, in the course of a visit to Greece, resided for a time in Sparta at the court of Menelaus, who gave the Asiatic stranger a very friendly reception. Charmed with Helen’s beauty, Paris employed the opportunity afforded by a temporary absence of her husband to gain her affections, and persuade her to elope with him to Troy. It was not, according to the old poets, to his personal attractions, great as they were, that Paris owed his success on this occasion, but to the aid of the goddess of Love, whose favor he had won by assigning to her the palm of beauty, on an occasion when it was contested between her and two other female deities.

When Menelaus returned home, he was naturally wroth at finding his hospitality so ill requited; and after having in vain endeavored, both by remonstrances and threats, to induce the Trojans to send him back his queen, he applied to the princes who had formerly been Helen’s lovers, and called upon them to aid him according to their oaths, in recovering her from her seducer. They obeyed the summons; and all Greece being indignant at the insult offered to Menelaus, a general muster of the forces of the various states took place at Aulis, a seaport town of Bœotia preparatory to their crossing the Ægean to the Trojan shore. This is supposed to have happened in the year 1194 B. C.

Of the chiefs assembled on this occasion, the most celebrated were Agamemnon, king of Mycene; Menelaus, king of Sparta; Ulysses, king of Ithaca; Nestor, king of Pylos; Achilles, son of the king of Thessaly; Ajax, of Salamis; Diomedes, of Ætolia; and Idomeneus, of Crete.

Agamemnon, the brother of the injured Menelaus, was elected commander-in-chief of the confederated Greeks. According to some ancient authors, this general was barbarous enough to sacrifice his daughter Iphigenia, to induce the gods to send a favoring gale to the Grecian fleet when it was detained by contrary winds in the port of Aulis; but as the earliest writers respecting the Trojan war make no mention of this unnatural act, it is to be hoped that it never was performed.

The Grecian armament consisted of about 1200 vessels, with from 50 to 120 men in each, and the army which warred against Troy is supposed to have amounted altogether to about 100,000 men. The Trojans, although reinforced by auxiliary bands from Assyria, Thrace, and Asia Minor, were unable to withstand the Greeks in the open country, and they therefore soon retired within the walls of their city.

In those early times men were unskilled in the art of reducing fortified places, and the Greeks knew of no speedier way of taking Troy than blockading it till the inhabitants should be compelled by famine to surrender. But here a new difficulty arose. No arrangements had been made for supplying the invaders with provisions during a lengthened seige; and after they had plundered and laid waste the surrounding country, they began to be in as great danger of starvation as the besieged. The supplies which arrived from Greece were scanty and irregular, and it became necessary to detach a part of the beleaguering forces to cultivate the plains of the Chersonesus of Thrace, in order to raise crops for the support of themselves and their brethren in arms.

The Grecian army being thus weakened, the Trojans were encouraged to make frequent sallies, in which they were led generally by the valiant Hector, Priam’s eldest and noblest son. Many skirmishes took place, and innumerable deeds of individual heroism were performed, all of which led to no important result, for the opposing armies were so equally matched, that neither could obtain any decisive advantage over the other. At length, after a siege of no less than ten years, in the course of which some of the most distinguished leaders on both sides were slain, Troy was taken, its inhabitants slaughtered, and its edifices burnt and razed to the ground.

According to the poets, it was by a stratagem that this famous city was at last overcome. They tell us that the Greeks constructed a wooden horse of prodigious size, in the body of which they concealed a number of armed men, and then retired towards the sea-shore, to induce the enemy to believe that the besiegers had given up the enterprise, and were about to return home. Deceived by this manœuvre, the Trojans brought the gigantic horse into the city, and the men who had been concealed within it, stealing out in the night-time, unbarred the gates, and admitted the Grecian army within the walls. The siege of Troy forms the subject of Homer’s sublime poem, the ‘Iliad,’ in which the real events of the war are intermingled with many fictitious and supernatural incidents.

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The Greek princes discovered that their triumph over Troy was dearly paid for by their subsequent sufferings, and the disorganization of their kingdoms at home. Ulysses, if we may believe the poets, spent ten years in wandering over seas and lands before arriving in his island of Ithaca. Others of the leaders died or were shipwrecked on their way home, and several of those who succeeded in reaching their own dominions, found their thrones occupied by usurpers, and were compelled to return to their vessels, and seek in distant lands a place of rest and security for their declining years. But the fate of Agamemnon, the renowned general of the Greeks, was the most deplorable of all. On his return to Argos, he was assassinated by his wife Clytemnestra, who had formed an attachment during his absence to another person. Agamemnon’s son, Orestes, was driven into exile, but afterwards returned to Argos, and putting his mother and her accomplices to death, established himself upon the throne. About eighty years after the termination of the Trojan war, an extensive revolution took place in the affairs of Greece, in consequence of the subjugation of nearly the whole Peloponnesus by the descendants of Hercules. That hero, who was a member of the royal family of Mycenæ or Argos, had been driven into exile by some more successful candidate for the throne of that state. After the hero’s death, his children sought refuse in Doris, the king of which became subsequently so much attached to Hyllus, the eldest son of Hercules, that he constituted him the heir of his throne. Twice the Heraclidæan princes unsuccessfully attempted to establish themselves in the sovereignty of the Peloponnesus, which they claimed as their right; but on the third trial, they accomplished their object. In the year 1104 B. C., three brothers named Temenus, Cresphontes, and Aristodemus, said to have been the great-grandsons of Hyllus, invaded the Peloponnesus at the head of the Dorians, and conquered the greater part of it, with the exception of the province of Arcadia, the mountainous character of which enabled its inhabitants to defend it with success against the invaders.

Temenus obtained the kingdom of Argos, Cresphontes established himself in Messenia, and as Aristodemus had died during the war, his twin sons Eurysthenes and Procles shared between them the throne of Sparta. The thrones of Corinth and Elis were occupied by other branches of the Heraclidæan family. The Dorian troops were rewarded with the lands of the conquered inhabitants, who were driven out of the Peloponnesus, or reduced to slavery. Great numbers of the Peloponnesians, who were expatriated by the Dorian invaders, passed over into Asia Minor, where they founded several colonies in a district afterwards called Æolia, from the name of the people by whom these colonies were established. Others took refuge in Attica, where the Athenians received them in a friendly manner. This, it would appear, gave offence to the new rulers of the Peloponnesian states, and war was commenced between the Dorians and the Athenians. In the year 1070 B. C., Attica was invaded by a numerous army of the Peloponnesians, and Athens itself seemed menaced with destruction. This emergency produced a display of patriotic devotion on the part of Codrus, the Athenian king, which has rarely been paralleled in the annals of mankind, and deserves to be held in everlasting remembrance:—

At Delphi in Phocis there was a temple of Apollo, to the priests of which the Greeks were wont to apply for information regarding future events, in the same manner as the people of comparatively recent times were accustomed to consult astrologers, soothsayers, and other artful imposters on similar questions. Now Codrus had learned that the Peloponnesians had received at Delphi a prophetical response, to the effect that they should not be victorious in the war, if they did not kill the Athenian king. Determined to save his country at the expense of his own life, Codrus disguised himself in a peasant’s dress, and entering the Peloponnesian camp, provoked a quarrel with a soldier, by whom he was killed.

It was not long until the dead body was recognized to be that of the Athenian king, and the Peloponnesians, remembering the condition on which the oracle had promised them success, were afraid to continue the contest any longer, and hastily retreated into their own territories. The Athenians were filled with admiration when they heard of the noble conduct of their monarch, and in the height of their gratitude, they declared that none but Jupiter was worthy of being their king after such a prince as Codrus.

It is supposed that they were partly induced to make this declaration by finding the sons of Codrus evince an inclination to involve the country in a civil war regarding the succession to the throne. The Athenians therefore abolished royalty altogether, and appointed Medon, Codrus’s eldest son, under the title of Archon, as chief magistrate of the republic for life; the office to be hereditary in his family as long as its duties should be performed to the satisfaction of the people. And as Attica was overcrowded with the Peloponnesian refugees, these, together with a large body of Athenians, were sent into Asia Minor, under the charge of Androclus and Neleus, the younger sons of Codrus, to plant colonies to the south of those already formed in Æolia. The settlers founded twelve cities, some of which afterwards rose to great wealth and splendor. Ionia was the name bestowed upon the district, in reference to the Ionic stock from which the Athenians drew their descent.

Several Dorian colonies in Caria, a province still farther south than Ionia, completed the range of Grecian settlements along the western coast of Asia Minor. Cyprus, Rhodes, the coast of Thrace, and the islands of the Ægean Sea, together with a considerable portion of Italy and Sicily, and even of France and Spain, were also colonized by bands of adventurers, who at various periods emigrated from Greece; so that, in process of time, the Grecian race, language, religion, institutions, and manners, instead of being confined to the comparatively small country constituting Greece proper, were diffused over a very extensive region, comprising the fairest portions of Europe and of western Asia.

While this work of colonization was going forward, the parent states of Greece were torn with internal dissensions, and were perpetually harassing each other in wars, of which the objects and incidents are now equally uncertain. Almost all that is known of the history of the two centuries immediately following the death of Codrus is, that they were characterized by great turbulence and confusion, and that, during their lapse, many of the Grecian states and colonies followed the example of Athens by abolishing monarchy. Others did not, till a later period, become republican, and Sparta long retained the singular form of regal government established there at the accession of the twin brothers Eurysthenes and Procles, the descendants of whom continued for several centuries to reign jointly in Lacedæmon, though, practically speaking, no state of Greece was more thoroughly republican in many important respects.

Greece had been all along divided into a number of independent states, and after the abolition of kingly government, several of these were split up into as many distinct republics as the state contained of towns. These divisions of the country, and the obstacles which the almost incessant wars interposed to a free communication between the inhabitants of the different districts, necessarily prevented the advancement of the Greeks in knowledge and civilization; but fortunately, a king of Elis, named Iphitus, at length devised an institution by which the people of all the Grecian states were enabled, notwithstanding their quarrels and wars with one another, to meet periodically on friendly terms, and communicate to each other such information as might be useful for the improvement and welfare of the whole.

This institution was the Olympic Festival. From a very remote period, the Greeks had been accustomed to engage in contests of strength and agility during their times of festivity, and also at the funerals of distinguished personages. Iphitus conceived the idea of establishing a periodical festival in his own dominions for the celebration of these ancient games, and of religious rites in honor of Jupiter and Hercules; and having obtained the authority of the Delphian oracle for carrying his design into execution, he instituted the festival, and appointed that it should be repeated every fourth year at Olympia, a town of Elis.

To this festival he invited all the people of Greece; and that none might be prevented from attending it by the wars in which any of the states might be engaged, the Delphic oracle commanded that a general armistice should take place for some time before and after each celebration. The date of the establishment of the Olympic games (884 B. C.) was afterwards assumed by the Greeks as the epoch from which they reckoned the progress of time; the four years intervening between each recurrence of the festival being styled an Olympiad.

Three other institutions of a similar nature were afterwards established: namely, the Isthmian Games, celebrated near Corinth; the Pythian, at Delphi; and the Neméan, in Argolis. These took place on the various years which intervened between the successive festivals at Olympia; but although they acquired considerable celebrity, none of them rose to the importance and splendor of that of Iphitus. The games which were celebrated at the festivals consisted of foot and chariot races, wrestling and boxing matches, and other contests requiring strength and agility, together with competitions in poetry and music. The victors were crowned with an olive wreath; an honor which it was esteemed by the Greeks one of the highest objects of ambition to attain.

SECOND OR AUTHENTIC PERIOD OF HISTORY.

The second and authentic period of Greek history commences in the year 884 B. C., at the institution of the Olympic Festival, when the people had begun to emerge from their primitive barbarism. This festival, as already stated, was instituted by direction of the Delphic oracle, by Iphitus, Prince of Elis, for the patriotic purpose of assembling together, in a peaceful manner, persons from all parts of Greece. The festival was ordained to take place once every four years, in the month corresponding to our July, and to last five days, during which there was to be complete truce, or cessation from war, throughout the Grecian states. Agreeably to the ancient practice at public solemnities, the festival was celebrated by games and various feats of personal skill, and the whole order of procedure was regulated with extraordinary care. All freemen of Grecian extraction were invited to contend, provided they had been born in lawful wedlock, and had lived untainted by any infamous moral stain. No women (the priestesses of Ceres excepted) were permitted to be present. Females who violated this law were thrown from a rock. The competitors prepared themselves during ten months previous at the gymnasium at Elis. During the last thirty days, the exercises were performed with as much regularity as at the games themselves. The festival began in the evening with solemn sacrifices, and the games were commenced the next day at daybreak.

These consisted in races on horseback and on foot, in leaping, throwing the discus or quoit, wrestling, and boxing; musical and poetical contests concluded the whole. The honor of having gained a victory in the Olympic Games was very great; it extended from the victor to his country, which was proud of owning him. However rude and boisterous were some of the sports of the Olympic Festival, it is acknowledged by the best authorities that they were attended with manifold advantages to society. It is sufficient barely to mention the suspension of hostilities, which took place not only during the festival, but a considerable time both before and after it. Considered as a kind of religious ceremony, at which the whole Grecian citizens were invited, and even enjoined, to assist, it was well adapted to facilitate intercourse, to promote knowledge, to soften prejudice, and to hasten the progress of civilization and humanity.

At the first institution of the Olympic Festival, and for one or two centuries afterwards, the condition of Grecian society was primitive, and almost patriarchal, but marked by strong features of heroic dignity, and a certain depth and refinement of thought. The attire of the men was very simple, consisting only of a shirt or close jacket to the body, with a loose robe hanging down over the naked limbs, while performers in the public games were almost naked. The arts, including agriculture, were also little advanced; few persons seemed to have thought of toiling to accumulate wealth; and each community presented, in time of peace, the picture of a large family. That portion of the people constituting the freemen lived much in public, or in the society of their equals, enjoyed common pleasures and amusements, and had daily opportunities of displaying their useful talents in the sight of their fellow-citizens. The frequent disputes between individuals occasioned litigations and trials, which furnished employment for the eloquence and ability of men in the necessary defence of their friends. The numerous games and public solemnities opened a continual source of entertainment, and habituated every man to active physical exercise, and the performance of his duties as a soldier. These were agreeable features in the condition of Grecian society; but there were also some of an opposite character. The people were of an unsettled disposition, never satisfied long with any kind of government which existed amongst them, and very much disposed to wage war against neighboring states on the most trifling pretenses.

The population of the various states was divided into three classes—​namely, the citizens, the enfranchised populace, and the slaves. All political power, even in the most democratical of the Grecian communities, was possessed by the first of these classes, while in the oligarchical states, only that small portion of the citizens which constituted the nobility or aristocracy possessed any influence in the management of public affairs. The mechanical and agricultural labors necessary for the support and comfort of the whole, were chiefly performed by the inferior class of free inhabitants, who did not enjoy the privilege of citizenship, and by the slaves, who formed a considerable portion of the population of every state. These slaves were sprung from the same general or parent stock, spoke the same language, and professed the same religion, as their masters. They were in most cases the descendants of persons who had been conquered in war, but were in some instances acquired by purchase. Society being thus based on vicious principles, it is not wonderful that the Grecian states were the scene of constant civil broils.

Sparta—​Lycurgus. At the beginning of this period of Grecian history, our attention is powerfully attracted by a very remarkable series of proceedings which took place in Lacedæmon, or Laconia, a country of southern Greece, of which the chief city was Sparta. This city being in a state of intestine disorder, it was agreed by many of the inhabitants to invite Lycurgus, the son of one of their late kings, to undertake the important task of preparing a new constitution for his country. Fortified with the sanction of the Delphic oracle, he commenced this difficult duty, not only settling the form of government, but reforming the social institutions and manners of the people. The government he established consisted of two joint kings, with a limited prerogative, and who acted as presidents of a senate of twenty-eight aged men. The functions of the senate were deliberative as well as executive, but no law could be passed without receiving the consent of the assembled citizens. The most remarkable of the arrangements of Lycurgus was his attempt to abolish difference of rank, and even difference of circumstances, among the people. He resolved on the bold measure of an equal division of lands, and actually parceled out the Laconian territory into 39,000 lots, one of which was given to each citizen of Sparta, or free inhabitant of Laconia. Each of these lots was of such a size as barely sufficed to supply the wants of a single family—​for Lycurgus was determined that no person should be placed in such circumstances as would permit of luxurious living.

Lycurgus carried into effect a number of other visionary projects: he abolished the use of money, with the hope of preventing undue accumulation of wealth; prohibited foreigners from entering the country, and the natives from going abroad, in order to preserve simplicity of manners among the people; directed that all men, without distinction of rank or age, should eat daily together at public tables, which were furnished with the plainest food; and finally, ordained that all the children who were born, and seemed likely to be strong, should be reared by public nurses, under a rigid system of privation and personal activity, while the weak infants should be thrown out to the fields to perish. The citizens, when they had attained the age of manhood, were engaged in martial exercises, all labor being left to the slaves, or helots, as they were termed; and in short, the whole nation was but a camp of soldiers, and war was reckoned the only legitimate profession. These laws were in some measure suited to the rude condition of the Spartans, but, as being opposed to some of the best and strongest principles in human nature, they could not possibly endure, and there is reason to believe that some of them were not strictly enforced. It is not unusual to see historians use the term Spartan virtue with a certain degree of admiration of its quality; but the Spartans had, in reality, no moral dignity, certainly no benevolence, in their virtue, either public or private. They were a small confederacy of well-trained soldiers; and merely as such, deserve no mark of our respect or esteem. The manner in which they used their helots was at once barbarous and cruel. The murder of a serf by a free citizen was not punishable by law; nay, it was even allowable for the young Spartans to lie in wait, as a kind of sport, for any good-looking or saucy-looking slave, and stab him to the heart on the highway. It is certain that at one time, when the helots had stood their masters in good stead in battle, they were desired, by way of reward, to choose out 2000 of their best men, that they might receive their freedom, and be enrolled as Spartans, and that these 2000 men were all silently murdered soon after. At another time, when danger was apprehended from the growing numbers and petty wealth of the boors, the senate enacted the farce of declaring war against them, and coolly murdered many thousands, in order to thin their numbers and break their spirit. Had there been any redeeming trait in the Spartan character to compensate for such barbarity, one would have wondered less at the respect which is sometimes paid them; but their military fame only adds another instance to the many already on record, that the most ignorant and savage tribes make the most dogged soldiers.

Athens. We now turn to Athens, long the principal seat of Grecian learning. Athens is said to have been founded by Cecrops, 1550 B. C., and in the most ancient times was called Cecropia. It probably received the name of Athens from the goddess Minerva, who was called also Athena, by the Greeks, and to whom an elegant temple had been erected in the city. The old city spread from the mount of the Acropolis over a wide and pleasant vale or low peninsula, formed by the junction of the Cephesus and Ilissus. Its distance from the sea-coast was about five miles. In the course of time Athens became populous and surpassingly elegant in its architecture, while its citizens contrived to take a lead in the affairs of the communities around. At first they were governed by kings, but, as in the case of the Spartan citizens, they became dissatisfied with their existing constitution, and about the year 600 B. C. invited Solon, one of the wisest men in Greece, to reörganize their political constitution. Solon obeyed the summons, and constituted the government on a broad republican basis, with a council of state, forming a judicial court, consisting of 400 members, and called the Areopagus. This court of Areopagus besides its other duties, exercised a censorship over public morals, and was empowered to punish impiety, profligacy, and even idleness. To this court every citizen was bound to make an annual statement of his income, and the sources from which it was derived. The court was long regarded with very great respect, and the right was accorded to it of not only revising the sentences pronounced by the other criminal tribunals, but even of annulling the judicial decrees of the general assembly of the people. The regulations of Solon were not maintained for any great length of time, although the republican form of government, in one shape or other, continued as long as the country maintained its independence. Clesthenes, the leader of a party, enlarged the democratic principle in the state; he introduced the practice of ostracism, by which any person might be banished for ten years, without being accused of any crime, if the Athenians apprehended that he had acquired too much influence, or harbored designs against the public liberty. Ostracism was so called, because the citizens, in voting for its infliction, wrote the name of the obnoxious individual upon a shell (ostreon). It is said that Clesthenes was the first victim of his own law, as has happened in several other remarkable cases, ancient and modern.

For a period of about two centuries after the settlement of a republican constitution, there is little of importance to relate in Athenian history. Athens was gradually enlarged, the taste for refinement increased, and various men of sagacious understanding, entitled Philosophers, began to devote themselves to inquiries into the nature of the human mind and the character of the Deity. The principal Grecian philosopher who flourished in this era (550 B. C.) was Pythagoras, a man of pure and exalted ideas, and an able expounder of the science of mind.

THIRD PERIOD OF HISTORY

The year 490 B. C. closes the gradually-improving period in Grecian history, or second period, as it has been termed; and now commenced an era marked by the important event of an invasion from a powerful Asiatic sovereign.

Persian Invasion. Darius, king of Persia, having imagined the possibility of conquering Greece, sent an immense army against it in the year just mentioned. Greatly alarmed at the approach of such an enemy, the Athenians applied to the Spartans for aid; but that people had a superstition which prohibited their taking the field before the moon was at the full, and as at the time of the application it still wanted five days of that period, they therefore delayed the march of their troops. Being thus refused all assistance from their neighbors, the Athenians were left to depend entirely on their own courage and resources. A more remarkable instance of a small state endeavoring to oppose the wicked aggression of an overgrown power, has seldom occurred in ancient or modern times; but the constant exercises and training of the Athenian population enabled them to present a bold and by no means contemptible front to the invader. War had been their principal employment, and in the field they displayed their noblest qualities. They were unacquainted with those highly-disciplined evolutions which give harmony and concert to numerous bodies of men; but what was wanting in skill they supplied by courage. The Athenian, and also other Greek soldiers, marched to the field in a deep phalanx, rushed impetuously to the attack, and bravely closed with their enemies. Each warrior was firmly opposed to his antagonist, and compelled by necessity to the same exertions of valor as if the fortune of the day depended on his single arm. The principal weapon was a spear, which, thrown by the nervous and well-directed vigor of a steady hand, often penetrated the firmest shields and bucklers. When they missed their aim, or when the stroke proved ineffectual through want of force, they drew their swords, and summoning their utmost resolution, darted impetuously on the foe. This mode of war was common to the soldiers and generals, the latter being as much distinguished in battle by their strength and courage as their skill and conduct. The Greeks had bows, slings, and darts, intended for the practice of distant hostility; but their chief dependence was on the spear and sword. Their defensive armor consisted of a bright helmet, adorned with plumes, and covering the head, a strong corslet defending the breast, greaves of brass decending the leg to the feet, and an ample shield, loosely attached to the left shoulder and arm, which turned in all directions, and opposed its firm resistance to every hostile assault. With men thus organized and accoutred, a battle consisted of so many duels, and the combatants fought with all the keenness of personal resentment. The slaughter in such engagements was correspondingly great, the fight seldom terminating till one of the parties was nearly destroyed, or at least greatly reduced in numbers.

It was a people so animated and prepared that the hosts of Persia were about to encounter. Compelled to meet the invaders unassisted, the Athenians were able to march an army of only 9000 men, exclusive of about as many light-armed slaves, into the field. With Miltiades as their leader and commander-in-chief, they met the Persians in battle on the plain of Marathon, thirty miles from Athens, and by great skill and courage, and the force of their close phalanx of spearmen, completely conquered them. Upwards of 6000 Persians were slain on the field, while the number killed of the Athenians was but 192. This is reckoned by historians one of the most important victories in ancient times, for it saved the independence of the whole of Greece. To the disgrace of the fickle Athenians, they afterwards showed the greatest ingratitude to Miltiades, and put him in prison on a charge of favoring the Persians. He died there the year after his great victory. Soon after, the citizens of Athens, on a plea equally unfounded, banished Aristides, an able leader of the aristocratic party in the state, and who, from his strict integrity and wisdom, was usually entitled ‘Aristides the Just.’ On the banishment of this eminent individual, Themistocles, a person who was more democratic in his sentiments, became the leader of the councils of the Athenians. Meanwhile the Grecian liberties were again menaced by the Persians. Xerxes, son of Darius, marched an army across the Hellespont by a bridge of boats from the Asiatic shore, and led it towards the southern part of Greece. The utmost force that the confederate Greeks could oppose to the countless host of Persians, did not exceed 60,000 men. Of these, a band of Spartans, numbering 8,000 soldiers, under Leonidas their king, was posted at the pass of Thermopylae, to intercept the enemy, and here they discomfited every successive column of the Persians as it entered the defile. Ultimately, foreseeing certain destruction, Leonidas commanded all to retire but 300, with whom he proposed to give the Persians some idea of what the Greeks could submit to for the sake of their country. He and his 300 were cut off to a man. Xerxes took possession of Attica and Athens, but in the naval battle with the Athenian fleet at Salamis, which occurred soon after [October 20, 480 B. C.], his army was utterly routed, and its scattered remains retreated into Asia.

By this splendid victory the naval power of Persia was almost annihilated, and the spirit of its monarch so completely humbled, that he durst no longer undertake offensive operations against Greece. Here, therefore, the war ought to have terminated; but so great and valuable had been the spoils obtained by the confederate forces, that they were unwilling to relinquish such a profitable contest. The war, therefore, was continued for twenty years longer, less, apparently, for the chastisement of Persia, than for the plunder of her conquered provinces.

But now that all danger was over, many of the smaller states, whose population was scanty, began to grow weary of the contest, and to furnish with reluctance their annual contingent of men to reinforce the allied fleet. It was, in consequence, arranged that those states whose citizens were unwilling to perform personal service, should send merely their proportion of vessels, and pay into the common treasury an annual subsidy, for the maintenance of the sailors with whom the Athenians undertook to man the fleet. The unforeseen but natural consequence of this was the establishment of the complete supremacy of Athens. The annual subsidies gradually assumed the character of a regular tribute, and were compulsorily levied as such; while the recusant communities, deprived of their fleets, which had been given up to the Athenians, were unable to offer effectual resistance to the oppressive exactions of the dominant state. The Athenians were thus raised to an unprecedented pitch of power and opulence, and enabled to adorn their city, to live in dignified idleness, and to enjoy a constant succession of the most costly public amusements, at the expense of the vanquished Persians, and of the scarcely more leniently-treated communities of the dependent confederacy.

Pericles. We have arrived at the most flourishing period of Athenian history, during which Pericles rose to distinction, and greatly contributed to the beautifying of the capital. The talents of Pericles were of the very first order, and they had been carefully cultivated by the ablest tutorage which Greece could afford. After serving for several years in the Athenian army, he ventured to take a part in the business of the popular assembly, and his powerful eloquence soon gained him an ascendancy in the national councils; and his power, in fact, became as great as that of an absolute monarch (445 B. C.). Some of the most interesting events of Grecian history now occurred. After a number of years of general peace, a dispute between the state of Corinth and its dependency the island of Corcyra (now Corfu), gave rise to a war which again disturbed the repose of all the Grecian states. Corcyra was a colony of Corinth, but having, by its maritime skill and enterprise, raised itself to a higher pitch of opulence than its parent city, it not only refused to acknowledge Corinthian supremacy, but went to war with that state on a question respecting the government of Epidammus, a colony which the Corcyreans had planted on the coast of Illyria. Corinth applied for and obtained aid from several of the Peloponnesian states to reduce the Corcyreans to subjection; while Corcyra, on the other hand, concluded a defensive alliance with Athens, which sent a fleet to assist the island in vindicating its independence. By way of punishing the Athenians for intermeddling in the quarrel, the Corinthians stirred up a revolt in Potidæa, a town of Chalcidice, near the confines of Macedonia, which had originally been a colony of Corinth, but was at this time a tributary of Athens. The Athenians immediately despatched a fleet and army for the reduction of Potidæa, and the Peloponnesians were equally prompt in sending succors to the city. The Corinthians, meanwhile, were actively engaged in endeavoring to enlist in their cause those states which had not yet taken a decided part in the dispute. To Lacedæmon, in particular, they sent ambassadors to complain of the conduct of the Athenians, which they characterized as a violation of a universally-recognised law of Grecian policy—​that no state should interfere between another and its dependencies. The efforts of the Corinthians were successful, and almost all the Peloponnesian states, headed by Sparta, together with many of those beyond the isthmus, formed themselves into a confederacy for the purpose of going to war with Athens. Argos and Achaia at first remained neuter. Corcyra, Acarnania, some of the cities of Thessaly, and those of Platæa and Naupactus, were all that took part with the Athenians.

Pericles beheld without dismay the gathering of the storm, but his countrymen were not equally undaunted. They perceived that they were about to be called upon to exchange the idle and luxurious life they were at present leading for one of hardship and danger, and they began to murmur against their political leader for involving them in so alarming a quarrel. They had not at first the courage to impeach Pericles himself, but vented their displeasure against his friends and favorites. Phidias, a very eminent sculptor, whom the great statesman had appointed superintendent of public buildings, was condemned to imprisonment on a frivolous charge; and the philosopher Anaxagoras, the preceptor and friend of Pericles, was charged with disseminating opinions subversive of the national religion, and banished from Athens. Respecting another celebrated individual who at this time fell under persecution, it becomes necessary to say a few words. Aspasia of Miletus was a woman of remarkable beauty and brilliant talents, but she wanted that chastity which is the greatest of feminine graces, and by her dissolute life was rendered a reproach, as she would otherwise have been an ornament, to her sex. This remarkable woman having come to reside in Athens, attracted the notice of Pericles, who was so much fascinated by her beauty, wit and eloquence, that, after separating from his wife, with whom he had lived unhappily, he married Aspasïa. It was generally believed that for the gratification of a private grudge, she had instigated Pericles to quarrel with the Peloponnesian states, and her unpopularity on this score was the true cause of her being now accused, before the assembly of the people, of impiety and grossly-immoral practices. Pericles conducted her defense in person, and plead for her with so much earnestness, that he was moved even to tears. The people, either finding the accusations to be really unfounded, or unable to resist the eloquence of Pericles, acquitted Aspasia. His enemies next directed their attack against himself. They accused him of embezzling the public money; but he completely rebutted the charge, and proved that he had drawn his income from no other source than his private estate. His frugal and unostentatious style of living must have of itself gone far to convince the Athenians of the honesty with which he had administered the public affairs; for while he was filling the city with temples, porticoes, and other magnificent works of art, and providing many costly entertainments for the people, his own domestic establishment was regulated with such strict attention to economy, that the members of his family complained of a parsimony which formed a marked contrast to the splendor in which many of the wealthy Athenians then lived.

Confirmed in his authority by his triumphant refutation of the slanders of his enemies, Pericles adopted the wisest measures for the public defense against the invasion which was threatened by the Peloponnesians. Unwilling to risk a battle with the Spartans, who were esteemed not less invincible by land than the Athenians were by sea, he caused the inhabitants of Attica to transport their cattle to Eubœa and the neighboring islands, and to retire with as much of their other property as they could take with them, within the walls of Athens. By this provident care, the city was stored with provision sufficient for the support of the multitudes which now crowded it; but greater difficulty was found in furnishing proper accommodation for so vast a population. Many found lodgings in the temples and other public edifices, or in the turrets on the city walls, while great numbers were obliged to construct for themselves temporary abodes in the vacant space within the long walls extending between the city and the port of Piræus.

The memorable contest of twenty-seven years’ duration, called ‘the Peloponnesian War,’ now commenced (431 B. C.). The Spartan king, Archidamus, entered Attica at the head of a large army of the confederates, and meeting with no opposition, proceeded along its eastern coast, burning the towns, and laying waste the country in his course. When the Athenians saw the enemy ravaging the country almost up to their gates, it required all the authority of Pericles to keep them within their fortifications. While the confederates were wasting Attica with fire and sword, the Athenian and Corcyrean fleets were, by the direction of Pericles, avenging the injury by ravaging the almost defenseless coasts of the Peloponnesus. This, together with a scarcity of provisions, soon induced Archidamus to lead his army homewards. He retired by the western coast, continuing the work of devastation as he went along.

Early in the summer of the following year, the confederates returned to Attica, which they were again permitted to ravage at their pleasure, as Pericles still adhered to his cautious policy of confining his efforts to the defense of the capital. But an enemy far more terrible than the Peloponnesians attacked the unfortunate Athenians. A pestilence, supposed to have originated in Ethiopia, and which had gradually spread over Egypt and the western parts of Asia, broke out in the town of Piræus, the inhabitants of which at first supposed their wells to have been poisoned. The disease rapidly advanced into Athens, where it carried off a great number of persons. It is described as having been a species of infectious fever, accompanied with many painful symptoms, and followed, in those who survived the first stages of the disease, by ulcerations of the bowels and limbs.

Historians mention, as a proof of the singular virulence of this pestilence, that the birds of prey refused to touch the unburied bodies of its victims, and that the dogs which fed upon the poisonous relics perished.

The mortality was dreadful, and was of course greatly increased by the overcrowded state of the city. The prayers of the devout, and the skill of the physicians, were found equally unavailing to stop the progress of the disease; and the miserable Athenians, reduced to despair, believed themselves to be forgotten or hated by their gods. The sick were in many cases left unattended, and the bodies of the dead allowed to lie unburied, while those whom the plague had not yet reached, openly sat at defiance all laws, human and divine, and rushed into every excess of criminal indulgence.

Pericles was in the meantime engaged, with a fleet of 150 ships, in wasting with fire and sword the shores of Peloponnesus. At his return to Athens, finding that the enemy had hastily retired from Attica, through fear of the contagion of the plague, he despatched the fleet to the coast of Chalcidice, to assist the Athenian land forces who were still engaged in the siege of Potidæa—​an unfortunate measure, productive of no other result than the communication of the pestilence to the besieging army, by which the majority of the troops were speedily swept away. Maddened by their sufferings, the Athenians now became loud in their murmurs against Pericles, whom they accused of having brought upon them at least a portion of their calamities, by involving them in the Peloponnesian war. An assembly of the people was held, in which Pericles entered upon a justification of his conduct and exhorted them to courage and perseverance in defense of their independence. The hardships to which they had been exposed by the war, were, he observed, only such as he had in former addresses prepared them to expect; and as for the pestilence, it was a calamity which no human prudence could either have foreseen or averted. He reminded them that they still possessed a fleet which that of no potentate on earth could equal or cope with, and that, after the present evil should have passed away, their navy might yet enable them to acquire universal empire. ‘What we suffer from the gods,’ continued he, ‘we should bear with patience; what from our enemies, with manly firmness; and such were the maxims of our forefathers. From unshaken fortitude in misfortune has arisen the present power of this commonwealth, together with that glory which, if our empire, according to the lot of all earthly things, decay, shall still survive to all posterity.’

The eloquent harangue of Pericles diminished, but did not remove, the alarm and irritation of the Athenians, and they not only dismissed him from all his offices, but imposed upon him a heavy fine. Meanwhile domestic afflictions were combining with political anxieties and mortifications to oppress the mind of this eminent man, for the members of his family were one by one perishing by the plague. Still, however, he bore himself up with a fortitude which was witnessed with admiration by all around him; but at the funeral of the last of his children, his firmness at length gave way; and while he was, according to the custom of the country, placing a garland of flowers on the head of the corpse, he burst into loud lamentations, and shed a torrent of tears. It was not long till his mutable countrymen repented of their harshness towards him, and reinvested him with his civil and military authority. He soon after followed his children to the grave, falling, like them, a victim to the prevailing pestilence (429 B. C.). The concurrent testimony of the ancient writers assigns to Pericles the first place among Grecian statesmen for wisdom and eloquence. Though ambitious of power, he was temperate in its exercise; and it is creditable to his memory, that, in an age and country so little scrupulous in the shedding of blood, his long administration was as merciful and mild as it was vigorous and effective. When constrained to make war, the constant study of this eminent statesman was, how to overcome his enemies with the least possible destruction of life, as well on their side as on his own. It is related that, when he was lying at the point of death, and while those who surrounded him were recounting his great actions, he suddenly interrupted them by expressing his surprise that they should bestow so much praise on achievements in which he had been rivaled by many others, while they omitted to mention what he considered his highest and peculiar honor—​namely, that no act of his had ever caused any Athenian to put on mourning.

After the death of Pericles, the war was continued, without interruption, for seven years longer, but with no very decisive advantage to either side. During this period the Athenian councils were chiefly directed by a coarse-minded and unprincipled demagogue named Cleon, who was at last killed in battle under the walls of Amphipolis, a Macedonian city, of which the possession was disputed by the Athenians and Lacedæmonians. Cleon was succeeded in the direction of public affairs by Nicias, the leader of the aristocratic party, a man of virtuous but unenterprising character, and a military officer of moderate abilities. Under his auspices a peace for fifty years, commonly known by the name of the ‘Peace of Nicias,’ was concluded in the tenth year of the war (421 B. C.). It was not long, however, till the contest was resumed. Offended that its allies had given up a contest undertaken for the assertion of its alleged rights, Corinth refused to be a party to the treaty of peace, and entered into a new quadruple alliance with Argos, Elis, and Mantinæa, a city of Arcadia; the ostensible object of which confederation was the defense of the Peloponnesian states against the aggressions of Athens and Sparta. This end seemed not difficult of attainment, as fresh distrust had arisen between the two last-mentioned republics, on account of the reluctance felt and manifested by both to give up certain places which they had bound themselves by treaty mutually to surrender. The jealousies thus excited were fanned into a violent flame by the artful measures of Alcibiades, a young Athenian, who now began to rise into political power, and whose genius and character subsequently exercised a strong influence upon the affairs of Athens.

Alcibiades. Alcibiades was the son of Clinias, an Athenian of high rank. Endowed with uncommon beauty of person, and talents of the very highest order, he was unfortunately deficient in that unbending integrity which is an essential element of every character truly great, and his violent passions sometimes impelled him to act in a manner which has brought disgrace on his memory. While still very young, Alcibiades served in the Athenian army, and became the companion and pupil of Socrates, one of the wisest and most virtuous of the Grecian sages. Having rendered some service to his country in a protracted and useless war with Lacedæmon, and being possessed of a talent for addressing the passions of the multitude, Alcibiades, as others had done before him, became the undisputed head of public affairs in Athens. But this preëminence was not of long continuance. An opinion arose among the people that he designed to subvert the constitution, and his fall was as quick as his promotion. Many of his friends were put to death, and he, while absent on an expedition, deprived of his authority. Being thus left without a public director of affairs, Athens, as usual, was torn by internal discords: the aristocratic faction succeeded in overthowing the democratic government (411 B. C.), and establishing a council of 400 individuals to administer the affairs of state, with the power of convoking an assembly of 5000 of the principal citizens for advice and assistance in any emergency. These 400 tyrants, as they were popularly called, were no sooner invested with authority, than they annihilated every remaining portion of the free institutions of Athens. They behaved with the greatest insolence and severity towards the people, and endeavored to confirm and perpetuate their usurped power, by raising a body of mercenary troops in the islands of the Ægean, for the purpose of overawing and enslaving their fellow-citizens. The Athenian army was at this period in the island of Samos, whither it had retired after an expedition against the revolted cities of Asia Minor. When intelligence arrived of the revolution in Athens, and the tyrannical proceedings of the oligarchical faction, the soldiers indignantly refused to obey the new government, and sent an invitation to Alcibiades to return among them, and assist in reëstablishing the democratic constitution. He obeyed the call; and as soon as he arrived in Samos, the troops elected him their general. He then sent a message to Athens, commanding the 400 tyrants to divest themselves immediately of their unconstitutional authority, if they wished to avoid deposition and death at his hands.

This message reached Athens at a time of the greatest confusion and alarm. The 400 tyrants had quarreled among themselves, and were about to appeal to the sword: the island of Eubœa, from which Athens had for some time been principally supplied with provisions, had revolted, and the fleet which had been sent to reduce it had been destroyed by the Lacedæmonians, so that the coasts of Attica, and the port of Athens itself, were now without defense. In these distressing circumstances, the people, roused to desperation, rose upon their oppressors, overturned the government of the 400, after an existence of only a few months, and reëstablished their ancient institutions. Alcibiades was now recalled; but before revisiting Athens, he was desirous of performing some brilliant military exploit, which might obliterate the recollection of his late connection with the Spartans, and give his return an air of triumph. He accordingly joined the Athenian fleet, then stationed at the entrance of the Hellespont, and soon obtained several important victories over the Lacedæmonians, both by sea and land. He then returned to Athens, where he was received with transports of joy. Chaplets of flowers were showered upon his head, and amidst the most enthusiastic acclamations he proceeded to the place of assembly, where he addressed the people in a speech of such eloquence and power, that at its conclusion a crown of gold was placed upon his brow, and he was invested with the supreme command of the Athenian forces, both naval and military. His forfeited property was restored, and the priests were directed to revoke the curses which had formerly been pronounced upon him.

This popularity of Alcibiades was not of long continuance. Many of the dependencies of Athens being in a state of insurrection, he assumed the command of an armament intended for their reduction. But circumstances arose which obliged him to leave the fleet for a short time in charge of one of his officers, named Antiochus, who, in despite of express orders to the contrary, gave battle to the Lacedæmonians during the absence of the commander-in-chief, and was defeated. When intelligence of this action reached Athens, a violent clamor was raised against Alcibiades: he was accused of having neglected his duty, and received a second dismissal from all his offices. On hearing of this, he quitted the fleet, and retiring to a fortress he had built in the Chersonesus of Thrace, he collected around him a band of military adventurers, with whose assistance he carried on a predatory warfare against the neighboring Thracian tribes.

Alcibiades did not long survive his second disgrace with his countrymen. Finding his Thracian residence insecure, on account of the increasing power of his Lacedæmonian enemies, he crossed the Hellespont, and settled in Bithynia, a country on the Asiatic side of the Propontis. Being there attacked and plundered by the Thracians, he proceeded into Phrygia, and placed himself under the protection of Pharnabasus, the Persian satrap of that province. But even thither the unfortunate chief was followed by the unrelenting hatred of the Lacedæmonians, by whose directions he was privately and foully assassinated. Thus perished, about the fortieth year of his age (403 B. C.), one of the ablest men that Greece ever produced. Distinguished alike as a warrior, an orator, and a statesman, and in his nature noble and generous, Alcibiades would have been truly worthy of our admiration if he had possessed probity; but his want of principle, and his unruly passions, led him to commit many grievous errors, which contributed not a little to produce or aggravate those calamities which latterly overtook him.

DECLINE OF ATHENIAN INDEPENDENCE.

With Alcibiades perished the last of the great men who possessed the power to sway the wild democracy, or, properly speaking, the mob of Athens. From the period of his death till the subjugation of the country, the Athenian people were at the mercy of contending factions, and without a single settled principle of government. During this brief period of their history, in which a kind of popular democracy had attained the command of affairs, happened the trial and condemnation of Socrates, an eminent teacher of morals, and a man guiltless of every offense but that of disgracing, by his illustrious merit, the vices and follies of his cotemporaries. On the false charge of corrupting the morals of the pupils who listened to his admirable expositions, and of denying the religion of his country, he was, to the eternal disgrace of the Athenians, compelled to die by drinking poison, a fate which he submitted to with a magnanimity which has rendered his name for ever celebrated. This odious transaction occurred in the year 400 B. C.

After the death of this great man, the political independence of Athens drew to its termination—​a circumstance which cannot excite the least surprise, when we reflect on the turbulence of its citizens, their persecution of virtue and talent, and their unhappy distrust of any settled form of government. Their ruin was finally accomplished by their uncontrollable thirst for war, and can create no emotions of pity or regret in the reader of their distracted history. The Lacedæmonians, under the command of an able officer named Lysander, attacked and totally destroyed the Athenian fleet. By this means having obtained the undisputed command of the sea, Lysander easily reduced those cities on the coasts of Thrace and Asia Minor, and those islands of the Ægean, which still acknowledged the supremacy of Athens. Having thus stripped that once lordly state of all its dependencies, he proceeded to blockade the city of Athens itself. The Athenians made a heroic defense; but after a lengthened siege, during which they suffered all the horrors of famine, they were obliged to surrender on such conditions as their enemies thought fit to impose (404 B. C.). The Spartans demanded that the fortifications of Piræus, and the long walls which connected it with the city, should be demolished; that the Athenians should relinquish all pretensions to authority over their former tributaries, recall the exiled partisans of the 400 tyrants, acknowledge the supremacy of Sparta, and follow its commanders in time of war; and finally, that they should adopt such a political constitution as should meet the approbation of the Lacedæmonians.

Thus sank the power of Athens, which had so long been the leading state of Greece, and thus terminated the Peloponnesian war, in which the Grecian communities had been so long engaged, to little other purpose than to waste the strength, and exhaust the resources, of their common country.

Condition of Athens. During the age preceding its fall, Athens, as already mentioned, had been greatly beautified and enlarged by Pericles. At the same time, the comparative simplicity of manners which formerly prevailed was exchanged for luxurious habits. This alteration has been thus described by Gillies in his ‘History of Ancient Greece:’—​‘In the course of a few years, the success of Aristides, Cimon, and Pericles, had tripled the revenues, and increased in a far greater proportion the dominions of the republic. The Athenian galleys commanded the eastern coasts of the Mediterranean; their merchantmen had engrossed the traffic of the adjacent countries; the magazines of Athens abounded with wood, metal, ebony, ivory, and all the materials of the useful as well as of the agreeable arts; they imported the luxuries of Italy, Sicily, Cyprus, Lydia, Pontus, and Peloponnesus; experience had improved their skill in working the silver mines of Mount Laurium; they had lately opened the valuable marble veins in Mount Pentelicus; the honey of Hymettus became important in domestic use and foreign traffic; the culture of their olives (oil being long their staple commodity, and the only production of Attica which Solon allowed them to export) must have improved with the general improvement of the country in arts and agriculture, especially under the active administration of Pericles, who liberally let loose the public treasure to encourage every species of industry.

‘But if that minister promoted the love of action, he found it necessary at least to comply with, if not to excite, the extreme passion for pleasure which then began to distinguish his countrymen. The people of Athens, successful in every enterprise against their foreign as well as domestic enemies, seemed entitled to reap the fruits of their dangers and victories. For the space of at least twelve years preceding the war of Peloponnesus, their city afforded a perpetual scene of triumph and festivity. Dramatic entertainments, to which they were passionately addicted, were no longer performed in slight, unadorned edifices, but in stone or marble theatres, erected at great expense, and embellished with the most precious productions of nature and of art. The treasury was opened, not only to supply the decorations of this favorite amusement, but to enable the poorer citizens to enjoy it, without incurring any private expense; and thus, at the cost of the state, or rather of its tributary allies and colonies, to feast and delight their ears and fancy with the combined charms of music and poetry. The pleasure of the eye was peculiarly consulted and gratified in the architecture of theatres and other ornamental buildings; for as Themistocles had strengthened, Pericles adorned, his native city; and unless the concurring testimony of antiquity was illustrated in the Parthenon, or Temple of Minerva, and other existing remains worthy to be immortal, it would be difficult to believe that in the space of a few years there could have been created those numerous, yet inestimable wonders of art, those temples, theatres, statues, altars, baths, gymnasia, and porticoes, which, in the language of ancient panegyric, rendered Athens the eye and light of Greece.

‘Pericles was blamed for thus decking one favorite city, like a vain voluptuous harlot, at the expense of plundered provinces; but it would have been fortunate for the Athenians if their extorted wealth had not been employed in more perishing, as well as more criminal, luxury. The pomp of religious solemnities, which were twice as numerous and costly in Athens as in any other city of Greece—​the extravagance of entertainments and banquets, which on such occasions always followed the sacrifices—​exhausted the resources, without augmenting the glory, of the republic. Instead of the bread, herbs, and simple fare recommended by the laws of Solon, the Athenians, soon after the eightieth Olympiad, availed themselves of their extensive commerce to import the delicacies of distant countries, which were prepared with all the refinements of cookery. The wines of Cyprus were cooled with snow in summer; in winter, the most delightful flowers adorned the tables and persons of the wealthy Athenians. Nor was it sufficient to be crowned with roses, unless they were likewise anointed with the most precious perfumes. Parasites, dancers, and buffoons, were a usual appendage of every entertainment. Among the weaker sex, the passion for delicate birds, distinguished by their voice or plumage, was carried to such excess, as merited the name of madness. The bodies of such youths as were not peculiarly addicted to hunting and horses, which began to be a prevailing taste, were corrupted by a lewd style of living; while their minds were still more polluted by the licentious philosophy of the sophists. It is unnecessary to crowd the picture, since it may be observed, in one word, that the vices and extravagances which are supposed to characterize the declining ages of Greece and Rome, took root in Athens during the administration of Pericles, the most splendid and most prosperous in the Grecian annals.’

During this period flourished Æschylus and Sophocles, Euripides and Aristophanes, dramatists; Pindar, a lyrical poet; Herodotus and Thucydides, historians; Xenophanes, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and Socrates, philosophers (reasoners upon the nature of the human mind, and upon man’s immortal destiny). In this period also, under the administration of Pericles (from 458 to 429 B. C.), sculpture and architecture attained their perfection. It was then that Phidias executed those splendid works, statues of the gods and goddesses, which excited the admiration of the world, and which succeeding artists have in vain endeavored to rival. While Athens had extended its power over a great part of the coasts of the Ægean Sea, and increased its trade and commerce by every available means, it had also become a city of palaces and temples, whose ruins continue to be the admiration of ages for their grandeur and beauty. It is understood that the Greeks had acquired their knowledge of architecture from the Egyptians; but they greatly excelled them in the elegance of their designs, and are in a great measure entitled to the character of inventors in the art. The beauty of the Corinthian pillar, for example, has never been excelled either in ancient or modern times.

After the surrender of Athens to the Spartans (404 B. C.), the democratic constitution was abolished, and the government was intrusted to thirty persons, whose rapacious, oppressive, and bloody administration ere long procured them the title of the Thirty Tyrants. The ascendancy of these intruders was not, however, of long duration. Conon, assisted privately by the Persians, who were desirous of humiliating the Spartans, expelled the enemy, and reëstablished the independence of his country. About seventy years later a new source of agitation throughout Greece was caused by the warlike projects of Alexander, king of Macedon, usually styled.

Alexander the Great. This intrepid and ambitious soldier was the son of Philip, king of Macedon, a small territory adjacent to the Grecian states, from which it had originally received a knowledge of arts and learning. Alexander was born in the year 356 B. C., and by his father was committed to the charge of the philosopher Aristotle to be educated; a duty which was faithfully fulfilled. By the assassination of Philip, Alexander was called to the throne of Macedon while yet only twenty years of age, and immediately had an opportunity of displaying his great warlike abilities in conducting an expedition into Greece, which was attended with signal success, and procured for him the honor of succeeding his father as commander-in-chief of the Grecian states. He now carried out a design which had been formed by Philip, to subdue Persia and other countries in Asia. In the spring of 334 B. C., he crossed over to the Asiatic coast, with an army of 30,000 foot and 5000 horse, thus commencing the most important military enterprise which is narrated in the pages of ancient history. Alexander marched through Asia Minor, and in successive encounters completely conquered the armies of Persia; but the whole history of his progress is but an account of splendid victories. During a space of about seven or eight years, he conquered Persia, Assyria, Egypt, Babylonia, and, in fact, became master of nearly all the half-civilized countries in Asia and Africa. It does not appear that Alexander had any motive for this wide-spread overthrow of ancient and remote sovereignties, excepting that of simple ambition, or desire of conquest, with perhaps the indefinite idea of improving the social condition of the countries which he overran. From various circumstances in his career, it is apparent that he never contemplated the acquisition of wealth or of praise, except such as could be shared with his soldiers, for whom he displayed a most paternal affection.

The extraordinary career of Alexander was suddenly cut short by death. At Babylon, while engaged in extensive plans for the future, he became sick, and died in a few days, 323 B. C. Such was the end of this conqueror, in his thirty-second year, after a reign of twelve years and eight months. He left behind him an immense empire, which, possessing no consolidated power, and only loosely united by conquest, became the scene of continual wars. The generals of the Macedonian army respectively seized upon different portions of the empire, each trusting in his sword for an independent establishment. The greedy struggle for power finally terminated in confirming Ptolemy in the possession of Egypt; Seleucus in Upper Asia; Cassander in Macedon and Greece; while several of the provinces in Lower Asia fell to the share of Lysimachus.

CONCLUDING PERIOD OF GREEK HISTORY.

At the death of Alexander, the Athenians considered it a fit opportunity to emancipate themselves from the ascendancy of Macedon; but without success. Demosthenes, one of the most eminent patriots and orators of Athens, on this occasion, to avoid being assassinated by order of Antipater, the Macedonian viceroy, killed himself by swallowing poison; and his compatriot Phocion was shortly afterwards put to death by his own countrymen, the Athenians, in a mad outbreak of popular fury. Greece cannot be said to have produced one great man after Phocion; and this deficiency of wise and able leaders was doubtless one chief cause of the insignificance into which the various states, great and small, sunk after this epoch.

The ancient history of Greece, as an independent country, now draws to a close. Achaia, hitherto a small, unimportant state, having begun to make some pretensions to political consequence, excited the enmity of Sparta, and was compelled to seek the protection of Philip, the ruling prince of Macedon. Philip took the field against the Spartans, and their allies the Ætolians, and was in a fair way of subjecting all Greece, by arms and influence, when he ventured on the fatal step of commencing hostilities against the Romans. This measure consummated the ruin of Greece, as well as that of Macedon. The Romans warred with Philip till the end of his life (175 B. C.), and continued the contest with his son Perseus, whom they utterly defeated, and with whom ended the line of the kings of Macedon. In a few years the once illustrious and free republics of Greece were converted into a Roman province, under the name of Achaia (146 B. C.).

Thus terminates the fourth and last period of Greek history, during which flourished several eminent writers and philosophers, among whom may be numbered Theocritus, a pastoral poet; Xenophon, Polybius, Diodorus Siculus, Dionysius Halicarnassus, Plutarch, and Herodian, historians; Demosthenes, an orator; and Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, and Epicurus, philosophers; also Zeuxis, Timanthes, Pamphilus, Nicias, Appelles, and Eupompus, painters; and Praxiteles, Polycletus, Camachus, Naucides, and Lysippus, sculptors.

In the condition of a humble dependency of Rome, and therefore following the fate of that empire, Greece remained for upwards of four succeeding centuries; but although of little political importance, it still retained its preëminence in learning. Enslaved as the land was, it continued to be the great school of the time. As Greece had formerly sent her knowledge and arts over the East by the arms of one of her own kings, she now diffused them over the western world under the protection of Rome. Athens, which was the emporium of Grecian learning and elegance, became the resort of all who were ambitious of excelling either in knowledge or the arts; statesmen went thither to improve themselves in eloquence; philosophers to learn the tenets of the sages of Greece; and artists to study models of excellence in building, statuary, or painting; natives of Greece were also found in all parts of the world, gaining an honorable subsistence by the superior knowledge of their country. That country in the meantime was less disturbed by intestine feuds than formerly, but was not exempt from the usual fate of conquests, being subject to the continual extortions of governors and lieutenants, who made the conquered provinces the means of repairing fortunes which had been broken by flattering the caprices of the populace at home.

The period of the independence of Greece, during which all those great deeds were performed which have attracted the attention of the world, may be reckoned from the era of the first Persian war to the conquest of Macedon, the last independent Greek state, by the Romans. This period, as we have seen, embraced little more than 300 years. It is not, therefore, from the duration of the independent political power of the Grecian states that their celebrity arises. Even the patriotism of their soldiers, and the devoted heroism of Thermopylæ and Marathon, have been emulated elsewhere without attracting much regard; and we must therefore conclude that it is chiefly from the superiority of its poets, philosophers, historians, and artists, that the importance of the country in the eyes of modern men arises. The political squabbles of the Athenians are forgotten; but the moral and intellectual researches of their philosophers, and the elegant remains of their artists, possess an undying fame.

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HISTORY OF ROME.

About the year 754 B. C., at that point of Central Italy, nearly fifteen miles from the Tuscan Sea, where the Anio joins the Tiber, there stood on a height, called the Palatine Mount, a little village named Roma, the centre of a small township, consisting probably of 5000 or 6000 inhabitants, all of them husbandmen and shepherds. This Rome was one of the border townships of Latium, a territory of fertile and undulating table-land extending from the Tiber to the Liris, and from the sea-coast to the hills of the interior. The whole surface of Latium was under diligent cultivation, and was covered with villages similar to Rome, which together constituted what was called the Latin nation.

Rome, we have said, was a frontier township of Latium. It was situated precisely at that point where the territories of Latium adjoined those of two other nations—​of the Sabines, a hardy Oscan race of shepherds inhabiting the angular district between the Anio and the Tiber; and of the Etruscans, a remarkable people, of unknown but probably Oriental origin, who had arrived in the north of Italy some centuries later than the Pelasgians, and conquering all before them, whether Pelasgians or Oscans, by the force of superior civilization, had settled chiefly in the region between the Arnus and the Tiber, corresponding to modern Tuscany. Between these three races—​Oscans, Pelasgians and Etruscans—​either apart, or in various combinations, all Italy, with the exception perhaps of some portions near the Alps, was divided: the Oscan predominating in the interior; the Pelasgians or rather Pelasgo-Oscans, along the coasts, as in Latium; and the Etruscans in the parts above-mentioned. While the Italian peninsula was thus occupied but by three great races or main stocks; the political divisions or nations into which it was parceled out were so numerous, however, that it would be scarcely possible to give a complete list of them.

Situated so near to the Sabine and Etruscan frontiers, an intercourse, sometimes friendly and sometimes hostile, must naturally have been carried on between the Latins of Rome and the Sabines and Etruscans, with whom they were in contact. A chain of events, which history cannot now trace, but which is indicated in a poetic manner by a number of early Roman legends, led to the incorporation of Rome with two neighboring towns—​one of them a small dependency of the Etruscans, situated on the Cælian Hill, and probably named Lucerum; another a Sabine village on the Quirinal Hill, called Quirium. The Etruscans, or Etrusco-Latins as they seem rather to have been, of Lucerum, were received on a subordinate footing; the Sabines of Quirium on one of equality; but the joint city continued to bear its old name of Roma. The population of this new Rome consisted, therefore, of three tribes—​the ancient Romans, who called themselves Ramnes; the Sabines of Quirium, who called themselves Tities; and the Etrusco-Latins of Lucerum, who were named Luceres.

ORIGINAL ROMAN CONSTITUTION—​EARLY HISTORY UNDER THE KINGS—​ORIGIN OF THE PLEBEIANS.

With the enlargement of the population of Rome by the addition of these new masses of citizens, a change of the constitution became of course necessary. The following seems to have been the form ultimately assumed:—​Governed by a common sovereign, eligible by the whole community from one of the superior tribes—​the Ramnes and the Tities—​the three tribes intrusted the conduct of their affairs to a senate composed of 200 members, 100 of whom represented the gentes of the Ramnes, and 100 the gentes of the Tities. The Luceres as an inferior tribe, were not represented in the senate; and their political influence was limited to the right to vote with the other two tribes in the general assemblies of the whole people.

In these general assemblies, or Comitia, as they were called, the people voted; not individually, nor in families, nor in gentes, but in divisions called Curix or Curies; the Curia being the tenth part of a tribe, and including, according to the ancient system of round numbers, ten gentes. Thus the entire Populus Romanus, or Roman people, of this primitive time, consisted of thirty curies—​ten curies of Ramnes, ten of Tities, and ten of Luceres: the ten curies of each tribe corresponding to 100 gentes, and the thirty curies together making up 300 gentes. As the Luceres were an inferior tribe, their gentes were called Gentes Minores, or Lesser Houses; while those of the Ramnes and Tities were called Gentes Majores or Greater Houses. The assembly of the whole people was called the Comitia Curiatia, or meeting of curies. After a measure had been matured by the king and senate, it was submitted to the whole people in their curies, who might accept or reject, but could not alter, what was thus proposed to them. An appeal was also open to the curies against any sentence of the king, or of the judges nominated by him in his capacity of supreme justiciary. The king, moreover, was the high priest of the nation in peace, as well as the commander-in-chief during war. The 300 gentes furnished each a horseman, so as to constitute a body of cavalry; the mass of the people forming the infantry. The right of assembling the senate lay with the king, who usually convened it three times a month.

Such was ancient Rome, as it appears to the historic eye endeavoring to penetrate the mists of the past, where at first all seems vague and wavering. The inquirer to whom we owe the power to conceive the condition of ancient Rome, so far as that depended on political institutions, was the celebrated German historian Niebuhr. Not so, however, did the Romans conceive their own early history. In all ancient communities, it was a habit of the popular imagination, nay, it was part of the popular religion, to trace the fortunes of the community to some divine or semi-divine founder; whose exploits, as well as those of his heroic successors, formed the subject of numerous sacred legends and ballads. Now, it was part of the Roman faith that their city had been founded at a point of time corresponding with B. C. 754, by twin brothers of miraculous birth, called Romulus and Remus, whose father was the war god Mars, and their mother a vestal virgin of the line of the Alban kings, the progeny of the great Æneas.

Romulus, according to this legend, surviving his brother Remus, became the king of the village of shepherds which he had founded on the Palatine; and it was in his reign that those events took place which terminated in the establishment of the triple community of the Ramnes, Tities, and Luceres. Setting out with Romulus, the Romans traced the history of their state through a series of legends relating to six kings his successors, whose characters, and the lengths of their reigns, are all duly determined. Of this traditionary succession of seven kings, extending over a period of 245 years (B. C. 754–509), history can recognize with certainty the existence of only the two or three latest. It is possible, however, to elicit out of the legends a glimmering of the actual history of the Roman state during these imaginary reigns.

Possessed, as all our information respecting the Romans in later times justifies us in supposing, of an unusual degree of that warlike instinct which was so rampant among the early tenants of our globe, the shepherd farmers of Rome were incessantly engaged in raids on their Latin, Etruscan, and Sabine neighbors. Strong-bodied, valiant, and persevering, as we also know them to have been, they were, on the whole, successful in these raids; and the consequence was, a gradual extension of their territory, particularly on the Latin side, by the conquest of those who were weaker than themselves. After each conquest, their custom was to deprive the conquered community of a part of their lands, and also of their political independence, annexing them as subjects to the Populus Romanus. The consequence was a gradual accumulation round the original Populus, with its 300 Houses, of a subject-population, free-born, and possessing property, but without political influence. This subject-population, the origin of which is dated by the legends from the reign of Ancus Martius, the fourth king from Romulus, received the name of the Plebs, a word which we translate ‘common people,’ but which it would be more correct, in reference to these very ancient times, to translate ‘conquered people.’ Besides the plebs, the Roman community received another ingredient in the persons called Clients; strangers, that is, most of them professing mechanical occupations, who, arriving in Rome, and not belonging to a gens, were obliged, in order to secure themselves against molestation, to attach themselves to some powerful citizen willing to protect them, and called by them Patronus, or Patron. About six centuries before Christ, therefore, the population of the growing township of Roma may be considered as having consisted of four classes: 1st, The populus, or patricians, a governing class, consisting of a limited number of powerful families, holding themselves aloof from the rest of the community, not intermarrying with them, and gradually diminishing in consequence; 2d, The plebs, or plebeians, a large and continually-increasing subject-population, of the same mixed Etrusco-Sabine-Latin blood as the populus, but domineered over by them by right of conquest; 3d, The clients, a considerable class, chiefly occupied in handicraft professions in the town, while the populus and the plebs confined themselves to the more honorable occupation, as it was then esteemed, of agriculture; and 4th, The slaves or servi, whether belonging to patricians, plebeians, or clients—​a class who were valued along with the cattle.

The increasing numbers of the plebs, the result of fresh wars, and the value of their services to the community, entitled them to possess, and emboldened them to claim, some political consideration. Accordingly, in the reign of Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth of the legendary kings, and in whose reputed Etruscan lineage historians fancy that they can discern a time when Etruscan influence, if not Etruscan arms, reigned paramount in Rome, a modification of the original constitution took place. A number of the richest plebeian families were drafted into the populus, to supply the blanks caused by the dying out of many of the ancient gentes of the Ramnes, Tities, and Luceres; and at the same time the number of senators was increased to 300, by the admission of the Luceres to the same rights as the other two tribes. Even this modification was insufficient; and in order to do justice to the claims of the plebs, Servius Tullius, the successor of Tarquinius, and who is gratefully celebrated in Roman history as ‘the King of the Commons,’ proposed and effected an entire renovation of the political system of the state. His first reform consisted in giving the plebs a regular internal organization for its own purposes, by dividing it into thirty tribes or parishes—​four for the town, and twenty-six for the country—​each provided with an officer or tribe convener called the Tribune, as well as with a detailed machinery of local government; and all permitted to assemble in a general meeting called the Comitia Tributa, to discuss matters purely affecting the plebs. But this was not all. To admit the plebs to a share in the general legislative power of the community, he instituted a third legislative body, called the Comitia Centuriata, in addition to the two—​the senate and the comitia curiata—​already existing. The comitia centuriata was an assembly of the whole free population of the Roman territory—​patricians, plebeians, and clients—​arranged, according to the amount of their taxable property, in five classes, which again were subdivided into 195 bodies, called Centuries, each century possessing a vote, but the centuries of the rich being much smaller than those of the poor, so as to secure a preponderance to wealth. The powers of the comitia centuriata were similar to those of the comitia curiata under the former system. They had the right to elect supreme magistrates, and to accept or reject a measure referred to them by the king and senate. The comitia curiata, however, still continued to be held; and a measure, even after it had passed the comitia centuriata, had still to be approved by the curies ere it could become a law. Notwithstanding this restriction, the constitution of Servius Tullius was a great concession to the popular spirit, as it virtually admitted every free individual within the Roman territory to a share in the government.

An attempt on the part of Tarquinius Superbus, the successor of Servius Tullius, to undo the reforms of his predecessor, and to establish what the ancients called a tyranny, or a government of individual will, led to the expulsion of him and his family, and to the abolition of the kingly form of government at Rome, B. C. 509, or in the year of the city 245. Instead of a king, two annual magistrates called Consuls were appointed, in whom were vested all the kingly functions, with the exception of the pontifical, for which special functionaries were created. Otherwise, the Servian constitution remained in full operation.

THE COMMONWEALTH TO THE GAULISH INVASION—​STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE PATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS.

After the expulsion of the kings, the little republic had to struggle through many difficulties arising from the attacks of the neighboring nations, incited thereto by the Tarquinii. Ten of the twenty-six rural parishes were torn away in the contest—​a loss equivalent to a full third part of the Roman territory. It would have required a prophetic eye to foresee that, of all the states into which Italy was then divided, this little struggling republic was to obtain the preëminence. One would have been disposed to promise the supremacy of the peninsula rather to the cultured and large-brained Etruscans, already masters of the north of Italy; to the hardy and valiant Samnites, who were fast overspreading the southern interior; or, most probably of all, to the Greeks, who, after adding Sicily to the empire of their gifted race, were rapidly establishing colonies on the southern coasts of the peninsula. Nay, clustered round the Roman territories there were various petty states, any one of which might have appeared a match for Rome—​the Latins, the Æquians, the Volcians, the Hernicans, the Sabines, and the Etruscans of Veii on the right bank of the Tiber. Who could have predicted that, bursting this cincture of nations, the men of the Tiber would overspread the peninsula, and, by the leavening influence of their character and institutions, throw first it and then all Europe, into fermentation?

It required a period of 119 years (B. C. 509–390) to enable the Romans to burst the chain of petty nations—​Latins, Volscians, Vejentes, etc.—​which girdled in their strength. This was a period of almost incessant warfare; the last glorious act of which was the siege and capture of Veii by the hero Camillus, B. C. 395, or in the year of the city 359. By this capture part of Etruria was added to the Roman dominions, and the influence of the state considerably extended on all sides. This conquest, as well as the career of victory against Æquians, Volscians, etc., which had preceded it, was greatly facilitated by a confederacy, offensive and defensive, which had subsisted between the Romans and the adjacent nations of the Latins and the Hernicans from the year of the city 268, the twenty-third year after the expulsion of the kings, when it had been established by the instrumentality of an able patrician named Spurius Cassius, who was three times, in cases of difficulty, elected to the consulship. This confederacy with two powerful nations had insured the stability of the infant republic against all assaults.

The second consulship of Spurius Cassius (year of Rome 261, or B. C. 493) had also been remarkable as the epoch of a formidable civic tumult—​the first of that long series of struggles between the patricians and the plebeians which constitutes the most interesting portion of the annals of the early Commonwealth. Not long after the expulsion of the kings, the patrician gentes had begun to show a disposition to tamper with the Servian constitution, or at least to prevent the plebs from obtaining more power than they already possessed. The principal instrument by which they were able to cripple the energies of the plebs was the operation of the law of debt. In primitive Rome, as in other ancient states, an insolvent debtor was liable to be seized by his creditor, and kept in chains, or made to work as his slave. Now, such had been the distress of the first years of the republic, that multitudes of the plebeians, deprived, by the casualties of war, of their little properties, had been obliged, in order to preserve the lives of their families, to become debtors to the patricians, the exclusive proprietors of the state lands. Hundreds had, in consequence, fallen into a condition of slavery; and many more, fearing to offend their patrician creditors by opposing their designs, had become mere ciphers in the comitia centuriata. In short, the plebs, as a body, were disintegrated and disheartened. Some instances of oppression, more flagrant than ordinary, led to an outbreak, and a clamor for the abolition of all existing debts; and to enforce their demands, the plebeians adopted a method of agitation which seems singular enough to our modern conceptions; they, or at least such of them as were in arms for military service, retired in a mass from the city at a time when it was threatened with invasion, and encamped on a hill near, declaring they would starve sooner than live in such a place as Rome was. The government was thus reduced to a dead lock; Spurius Cassius was chosen consul by the patricians; and by his instrumentality an arrangement was come to, by which the demands of the commons were conceded, existing debts abolished, a treaty of mutual obligation for the future agreed to between the populus and the plebs as between two independent communities, and a new office instituted, under the title of the Tribuneship of the Common People, for the express purpose of protecting the interests of the plebs. The commons then returned to the city; two tribunes of the people were appointed; and their number was subsequently increased first to five, and afterwards to ten. No one could have foreseen how important this office would become.

Not content with alleviating the temporary distresses of the plebeians, Spurius Cassius wished permanently to ameliorate their condition; and accordingly, in his third consulship, in the year of the city 268, or B. C. 486, he boldly proposed and carried what was called an Agrarian Law. It is absolutely necessary that the reader of Roman history should understand this term. According to the early Roman constitution, the lands acquired in war became the property of the whole populus, or body of patricians, in common. Portions of the conquered lands might be purchased from the state by rich persons; and in such cases the purchaser, whether patrician or plebeian, became absolute owner. Usually, however, the lands were not sold, but were annexed to the unallotted property already belonging to the populus. With regard to this state land, a very curious system prevailed. Any patrician (but none else) was allowed to occupy and cultivate as much of it as he chose, on condition of paying to the state a tithe of the annual produce if it were arable land, and a fifth if it were laid out in oliveyards or vineyards. The land thus occupied did not, by right of possession, become the property of the individual: he was liable to be turned out of it at the pleasure of the state—​his landlord; and it was entirely at his own risk that he laid out capital in improving it. As, however, it rarely happened that an individual was ejected from land which he had thus occupied, large tracts of the state land were speedily occupied by enterprising patricians. Such being the plan of distribution, it is evident that in the state lands, occupied and unoccupied, the government possessed a constant fund upon which they could draw in cases of emergency. By selling portions of it, they could raise money; and by assigning portions of it to indigent families, they could permanently provide for them. Several times, it appears, this had been done in the case of indigent plebeian families; and the agrarian law of Spurius Cassius was simply a proposal that—​a large accession to the state lands having just taken place—​the government should seize the opportunity to provide for the distressed plebeians, by apportioning them small portions of these state lands. To the plebeians this proposal was exceedingly agreeable; not so, however, to the patricians, who possessed the right of occupying and farming as much of the public territory as they chose, but who lost that right from the moment that the land was apportioned by the state. The patricians, accordingly, resisted the proposal with all their might; and Spurius Cassius having carried it notwithstanding, they caused him to be impeached and put to death as soon as his consulship had expired.

After this event, the patricians renewed their efforts to suppress the plebs, proceeding so far as to transfer the right of electing the consuls from the centuries to the purely patrician body of the curies. The plebeians, however, behaved resolutely, asserting their rights through their tribunes, and by clamors in the comitia tributa, where none but plebeians had a right to take a part. In the year of the city 271, or B. C. 483, they regained the power of choosing one of the consuls; and in the year 283, or B. C. 471, they wrung from the patricians the right of electing their tribunes in their own comitia tributa, instead of the centuries, at the same time obtaining the right to discuss in the comitia tributa affairs affecting the whole Commonwealth. Other concessions followed; and at length, in the year 292, or B. C. 462, a tribune named Caius Terentilius Harsa was so bold as to propose a complete revision of the constitution in all its parts. It was not desirable, he said, that the old distinction between populus and plebs, which had originated in war, should be longer kept up; let, therefore, a revision of the whole body of the laws be undertaken, with a view to put the plebeians on a legal equality with the patricians, and let some more limited form of supreme magistracy be substituted for the consulship. After a protracted opposition, this proposal resulted, in the year 303, or B. C. 452, in the appointment of the famous First Decemvirate; a board of ten patricians, who were to revise the entire body of the laws, as well as the political machinery of the state, superseding in the meantime all other authority. The digest of Roman law prepared by these decemvirs became the foundation of all subsequent jurisprudence among the Romans; the amendments which they effected on the old laws were favorable to the plebeians. The principal constitutional changes which they carried out were the incorporation of patricians and clients with the plebeian tribes; the investment of the centuries with the powers of an ultimate court of appeal; and the substitution of the decemviral office, of which they themselves were an example, for the consulship, five of the decemvirs to be plebeians. This last change, however, was of short duration; for the second decemvirate was brought to an end by its own depravity. Compelled, by a new secession of the commons, to abdicate, the decemvirs of 305 were succeeded by two popular consuls, under whose auspices several important privileges were obtained for the plebeians, the most important of which was a law conferring on a plebiscitum, or resolution of the tribes, the right to become law on receiving the sanction of the patricians, thus enabling the whole people to originate measures as well as the senate. In 310, the plebeians mustered courage to demand that one of the consuls should thenceforward be chosen from their order. To divert them from this, the patricians yielded to another demand—​the repeal of the law prohibiting intermarriage between the two orders. The plebeians, however, still persisting in their demand regarding the consulship, the patricians, in 311, offered a compromise, which consisted in breaking down the supreme authority, hitherto concentrated in the consulship, into three offices—​the Censorship, the Quæstorship, and the Military Tribunate—​with consular powers. The censors were to be two in number, chosen for a period of five years, by the curies from among the patricians, subject to the approval of the centuries. The ostensible duty of the censors was the administration of the public revenues; but as they were intrusted with the task of determining the rank of every citizen, and of rating his taxable property, their power was, in reality, enormous. To watch over the moral conduct of the citizens, and to degrade such senators or knights as disgraced their order, were parts of their understood duty. The quæstors, two in number, were to keep the public accounts; they were likewise to be patricians, but were to be chosen by the centuries. Regarding the third office, the military tribunate, the plebeians were to have the option of this office, consisting of an indefinite number of persons of somewhat less dignity than the consuls, but to be chosen by the centuries from either order indiscriminately, or of consuls to be chosen, as before, from among the patricians only.

This compromise having been accepted, the period from 311 to 350 was one of incessant agitation on the part of the plebeians, of incessant opposition on the part of the patricians, of incessant shifting between the consulship and the military tribunate, according as the patricians or the plebeians were the stronger. On the whole, however, the plebeians gained ground. In 321, the active authority of the censors was limited to eighteen months out of the five years for which they were appointed. In 328, the tribes obtained the right of deliberating on questions of peace and war. In 334, the number of the quæstors was increased to four, to be chosen indiscriminately from either order. Lastly, in 350, or B. C. 404, the system of payment for military service became common. During these forty years the patricians had frequently had recourse to the expedient of appointing a Dictator, or supreme magistrate, with unlimited authority for six months. Such an appointment almost always proved a temporary check to the political advancement of the plebeians. In cases of difficulty also, arising from external danger, it was usual to appoint some able man dictator; and it was at such a juncture, in the year 359, that, determined to bring the siege of Veii to a close, the Romans appointed Camillus to this high office.

The siege of Veii having terminated so successfully, the Romans were prepared to resume their career of conquest without, and their political agitations within, when both the one and the other received a check from an unexpected quarter. Some cause, now unknown, had thrown the Gauls, or Celtic populations inhabiting the western portion of Central Europe, into commotion; and bursting from their native haunts, a mass of these savages crossed the Alps in quest of plunder and settlements, established a permanent abode in the country adjacent to the Po, and pushed their destructive way through almost the whole length of the peninsula. Rome suffered more severely than any other city. For several months (364–5, or B. C. 390–89) it was in the possession of the savages—​its rightful inhabitants, routed in the battle, having dispersed themselves for safety through the surrounding country. At length, however, the Gauls were bribed to return to their homes in the north, leaving Rome in ruins.

GRADUAL CONQUEST OF THE PENINSULA—​ITALY UNDER THE ROMAN RULE.

The invasion of the Gauls is a great notch in the line of the Roman annals. From this epoch to the time of the complete subjugation of the peninsula by the Romans (365–490, or—​B. C. 389–264) is a period of 125 years. Of this period, the first fifty years were spent in repairing the shattered Commonwealth. Her strength having been fairly renewed, the republic shook off all impediments, announced to Latins and Hernicans that she required their coöperation no longer, and boldly declared her resolution to conquer central Italy. The series of wars against Etruscans, Latins, Hernicans, Gauls, Volscians, and Samnites, sometimes singly, sometimes in combination, by which she carried her resolution into effect, is usually known in Roman history by the general designation of ‘the Samnite Wars’ (412–463), the Samnites being the leaders in this onset of the nations on Rome, the issue of which was to determine whether Rome or Samnium should govern Italy. Extricating herself by her valor from this confused conflict of nations, Rome, about the year 463, found herself mistress of Central Italy—​Samnites, Latins, etc., all her subjects. A consequence of the conduct of the Latins and Hernicans during these Samnite wars was, that the famous triple confederacy between these two nations and the Romans was brought to an end precisely when it had fully served its purpose, and when its longer continuance would have impeded the growth in Italy of that Roman unity which it had fostered. ‘The Samnite Wars’ were succeeded by a short but brisk war, designated in Roman history ‘the War with Pyrrhus and the Greeks in Italy.’ Pyrrhus was an able and enterprising Greek prince, whom the Greek towns of southern Italy—​fearful of being overwhelmed by the conquering barbarians, as they called them, of the Tiber, before whom even the Samnites had given way—​had invited over from his native kingdom of Epirus, that he might place himself at the head of a confederacy which they were forming against Rome. Full of enmity towards their conquerers, all the recently-subdued nations of Central and Northern Italy welcomed the arrival of Pyrrhus; and all Southern Italy followed his standard. His enterprise, however, failed, notwithstanding several victories; and about the year B. C. 275, Pyrrhus having withdrawn from Italy, the confederacy against the Roman Commonwealth crumbled to pieces, and the whole peninsula lay at their mercy. Before describing the manner in which the peninsula, thus acquired, was laid out and governed by the Romans, it will be necessary to continue our narrative of the gradual development of the constitution within, during the period which had elapsed since the Gaulish invasion.

The situation of Rome after the Gaulish invasion was extremely similar to what it had been after the expulsion of the kings—​the plebeians distressed, and many of them in slavery for debt, and the patricians disposed to tyrannize. As on the former occasion there had risen up, as the best friend of the plebs, the noble patrician Spurius Cassius, so on this occasion there appeared as their champion a prudent and brave plebeian, Caius Licinius Stolo, a tribune of the people. His measures were very similar to those of Spurius Cassius—​namely, a compromise on the subject of debts (not, however, an abolition of them); and an agrarian law, prohibiting any citizen from occupying any more than five hundred jugera (about 330 acres) of the public land, and depriving all who exceeded that quantity of the surplus for distribution among indigent commons. To these he added a proposal for constitutional reform—​namely, that the military tribunate should be abolished, and that the consulship should be reverted to, one of the consuls to be of necessity a plebeian. After a hard struggle, these important measures were carried in the year 384, nineteen years after the Gaulish invasion. Under these Licinian Laws, as they were called, the state enjoyed tolerable repose for a long period of years—​the principal source of disturbance being the attempts of the wealthy citizens to evade the operation of the agrarian law. The next great movement was in the year of the city 416, when, under the auspices of a plebeian dictator (for the dictatorship had also been thrown open to the plebeians), a considerable simplification of the constitution was effected. It was now rendered essential that one of the censors should be a plebeian; and the old patrician body of the curies was struck out of the machinery of the legislature, so as to leave the business of the state in the hands of the senate (itself become partly a plebeian body) and the people. Met in their centuries, the people could only accept or reject the measures proposed by the senate; but met in their tribes, they could originate a measure, and oblige the senate to consider it. Thus sometimes in the shape of a matured scheme descending from the senate to the people, sometimes in the shape of a popular resolution sent up to the senate, a measure became law. From this simplification of the constitution commences, according to historians, the golden age of Roman politics. The extension of dominion in the Samnite wars, by providing a large subject-population inferior both to patricians and plebeians, disposed these bodies to forget their differences, and to fall back upon their common consciousness of Roman citizenship. During the Samnite wars, however, a third party appeared in the field claiming political rights. These were the Ærarians, the name applied to all those residents in town pursuing mechanical occupations, who, as not belonging to any of the tribes (now thirty-three in number), did not rank as citizens. The claims of this class—​the city rabble, as both patricians and plebeians called it—​were supported by a daring and able patrician, Appius Claudius, who, during his censorship, admitted ærarians into all the tribes indiscriminately. Eventually, however, a compromise was effected: the ærarians were enrolled in the four city tribes, thus obtaining some influence, but not so much as Appius seemed to destine for them. It appears to have been at some period also during the Samnite wars that a modification took place in the constitution of the comitia centuriata, the leading feature of which seems to have been a blending of the tribes with the centuries, so as to accommodate the assembly to the altered state of society and the altered scale of wealth. Of the precise nature of this change, however, as of the precise time at which it occurred, we are ignorant. It may be considered, nevertheless, to have perfected the Roman constitution, and to have adapted it for the function of maintaining the government of the entire peninsula.

Italy, once fairly subjugated and laid out by the Romans (B. C. 266), its population may be considered as having been distributed into three political divisions—​the Populus Romanus, or citizens of Rome, properly so called; the Socii, or inhabitants of the allied and dependent Italian states; and the Nomen Latinum, or citizens of the ‘Latin name.’

The first of these, the Populus Romanus, included the whole body of the free inhabitants of the thirty-three tribes or parishes north and south of the Tiber, which constituted the Roman territory strictly so called, together with a considerable number of persons scattered over the other parts of Italy, who were also accounted citizens, either because they were colonists of Roman descent, or because the title had been conferred on them as an honorary distinction. The total number of adult Roman citizens towards the close of the fifth century was under 300,000—​a small proportion, evidently, of the vast Italian mass, which consisted, including the slaves, of about 5,000,000. Nor were all these equal in point of civil rights, many of them having the franchise, as it was called, or legal rights of citizens, without the suffrage, or political rights. The citizens with suffrage, those who voted on public questions—​the real governing power, therefore, by whose impulses all Italy, with its millions of inhabitants, was swayed, as the body is moved by the beats of the heart—​were a mere handful of men, such as might be assembled with ease in any public park or square.

The Italian subjects were the inhabitants of the allied or dependent states. The list of these was a long one, including, as it did, the various communities which made up the populations of Etruria, Umbria, the Sabine territory, Samnium, Campania, Apulia, Lucania, Messapia, and Bruttium. All the allies, however, were not equally subject to Rome: the relations in which they stood to it were determined by the particular treaties which formed the separate alliances, and these, of course, varied according to the circumstances under which they had been concluded. Almost all the allied states, however, were permitted to retain their own laws, their own municipal arrangements, their own judges, etc. Throughout the peninsula, however, care was taken to destroy every vestige of nationality or national legislature among the allies of the same race. Upon the whole, this change from independence to subjection to Rome was beneficial to the Italian nations. Not the least benefit attending it was the total abolition of those wars between neighboring states which, while the peninsula was subdivided into small independent territories, had raged incessantly and fiercely.

The Nomen Latinum, or Latin name, was a fictitious designation applied to a number of colonies scattered through the peninsula, and which, in respect of privileges, stood in an intermediate position between the Roman citizens and the Italians. The name probably originated in the circumstance, that the original colonists of this description were Latins.

It is a curious fact, that even after Rome had attained the supremacy of the peninsula, there did not exist such a thing as even a dawning Roman literature, although the state had now existed nearly five hundred years; so much earlier than their literary faculty did the native talent of the Romans for governing mankind develop itself. It was by their massive character, more than by their powers of speculation or expression, that they were to impress the world.

THE PUNIC WARS—​SUBJUGATION OF FOREIGN NATIONS—​ADMINISTRATION OF THE PROVINCES.

Masters of Italy, it was not long before the Romans found themselves in collision with the nations surrounding the great basin of the Mediterranean; and as the last 125 years of the existence of the Roman state had been spent in the gradual conquest of the Italic nations, so the next 130 years (Y. R. 490–620, or B. C. 264–134) were spent in a series of conquests, by which various foreign countries were reduced to the condition of mere provinces of Italy. This series of conquests may be designated generally by the title of ‘the Punic Wars, and the Wars with the Greek States.’ A bare enumeration of them, with a statement of their results, is all that our limits will allow.

The first foreign people with which the Romans came into collision were the Carthaginians—​a people of Phœnician lineage, who, settling in that part of Africa now called Tunis, and building a city there, about a century before Rome was founded, had in the interval become a great commercial nation, with ships sailing to all parts of the Mediterranean, and with colonies along the coasts of Algiers, in Sardinia and Corsica, and even in Spain. They had recently gained a footing in Sicily, and now shared it with the Greeks of Syracuse; and it was on this rich island as a battlefield that the Romans first came into conflict with the merchant-people of Africa. Invited over by the Mamertines, a robber-people who inhabited the north-eastern corner of the island, the Roman soldiers fought the armies of mercenaries hired by the Carthaginians. The war thus begun, the ‘First Punic War,’ as it is called, lasted twenty-three years (Y. R. 490–513, or B. C. 264–241). During it the Romans first learned to build ships of war, and to fight naval battles; and they were soon able to defeat the Carthaginians on their own element. On land they were sure of victory against mere mercenaries, collected, as these were, from all nations, and commanded by Carthaginian generals of ordinary capacity. In 249 B. C., however, the Carthaginians sent over the great Hamilcar Barca to command their forces in Sicily; and his efforts checked the Romans, who, meanwhile, had invaded Africa, and been repulsed. A victory or two, however, gained by the Romans over other generals than Hamilcar, disposed the Carthaginians for peace, who accordingly agreed (B. C. 241) to evacuate Sicily, and to pay the victors a large sum of money. The Romans then made themselves masters of Sicily; and shortly afterwards they found a pretext for wresting Corsica and Sardinia from the Carthaginians. For twenty-two years after these conquests (B. C. 241–119) the Romans were engaged in wars with the Cisalpine Gauls and other nations in the north of Italy, the effect of which was to extend their dominion to the foot of the Alps. Beyond the Alps, also, Illyria, a country skirting the east coast of the Adriatic, was at this time annexed to the dominions of the Commonwealth.

Meanwhile the Carthaginians had not been idle. During several years they had, in accordance with the advice of Hamilcar, been establishing their dominion in Spain, intending to repay themselves with that fine peninsula for the loss of Sicily and Sardinia. Killed in battle by a native tribe, Hamilcar was succeeded in Spain by his son-in-law Hasdrubal; and on his death, which took place soon after, Hannibal Barca, the son of Hamilcar, and then only twenty-six years of age, was appointed to the command. The siege by him of Saguntum, an independent Spanish town, which had claimed the assistance of the Romans, led to the Second Punic War (B. C. 218–201). Little did the Romans know what a war it was to be! Crossing the Pyrenees, the young Carthaginian general, the greatest military commander probably, and certainly one of the ablest men the world ever saw, pushed his way through the Gallic tribes, and effecting the passage of the Alps, descended into Italy with an army of 12,000 Africans, 8,000 Spaniards, and 6,000 Carthaginian horse. Rousing the Cisalpine Gauls, and defeating in several successive battles the Roman generals sent against him, he made his way into the south of Italy (B. C. 217); and having in the following year inflicted on the Romans at Cannæ the greatest defeat they had ever received, he remained in Italy fifteen years (B. C. 217–202), moving hither and thither, keeping seven or eight Roman generals, and among them the wary Fabius and the bold Marcellus, continually employed, scattering the Romans like chaff wherever he appeared, exhausting the finances of the state, and detaching the Italian nations from their allegiance. Had he received reinforcements, as he expected, from Spain, where he had left his brother Hasdrubal in command, Rome might have fallen. Fortunately, however, for the Romans, while they were manfully opposing Hannibal in Italy, one of their generals, the great Scipio, was busily engaged in Spain. To prevent Spain from falling into Scipio’s hands, Hasdrubal was obliged to remain in it; and it was not till B. C. 207, when all hope of retaining his footing in that peninsula was lost, that he set out to join his brother. He crossed the Alps in safety, but was attacked, defeated and slain on his march through Italy; and Hannibal was left to his own resources. These, however, were exhaustless; and with the assistance of the Italian nations, who, especially the unprivileged classes, were friendly to the Carthaginians, and hated Rome, he might still have shattered the Commonwealth in pieces, had not Scipio passed over from Spain into Africa, and defeating the Carthaginians in several battles, with the help of a Numidian prince named Masinissa, compelled them to recall their greatest man for the defense of his native city. In B. C. 202, or the year of the city 552, Hannibal quitted Italy, where he had spent the best period of his life. Not long after his landing in Africa, he was defeated by Scipio at Zama, and his countrymen were obliged in consequence to agree to a peace on very severe terms.

The Second Punic War concluded, and Italy once more pacified, the Romans made war on Philip III. king of Macedonia, and virtual ruler of all the Greek states, who had offended them by entering into a treaty with Hannibal. The war was protracted over seventeen years (B. C. 214–197), but ended in the reduction of Macedonia, and the proclamation by the Romans of the independence of the other Greek states. Seized with a desire to assume the place which the Macedonian king had been unable to maintain, Antiochus the Great, king of Syria, and representative therefore of the Greek empire in Asia, crossed into Greece, where he joined the Ætolians against the Romans. Defeated, however, in Greece, and forsaken by the Ætolians, he was pursued into Asia, and after the loss of a great battle at Magnesia, obliged to submit to the Romans, who thus became virtual masters of the various kingdoms and states of Asia Minor (B. C. 188). Meanwhile they had been engaged in suppressing various movements among the Ligurians, Boians, Istrians, and other nations in the north of Italy, as well as among the Spanish tribes and the savages of Sardinia. A declaration of hostilities by Perseus, the successor of Philip in Macedonia, in conjunction with Genthius, king of Illyria, led to another war against these countries, which terminated in their complete subjugation (B. C. 168). The next twenty years were spent in securing these conquests, and in establishing relations, virtually those of sovereignty, with various states of Asia Minor, such as Bithynia and Rhodes; and with various others of Africa, as Egypt and Numidia. The whole circuit of the Mediterranean in their power, and their ships respected in all its ports, as belonging to the ‘sovereign people of Italy,’ the Romans at length executed their long-cherished project, and pounced upon Carthage (B. C. 149), whose existence, even in its fallen condition of a mere commercial capital, they could not tolerate. Hannibal had been dead more than thirty years; but under such generals as they had, the wretched Carthaginians offered a desperate resistance to the Roman commanders. After a horrible siege, the city, containing a population of 700,000, was taken and sacked by Scipio Æmilianus, the adopted son of the son of the great Scipio (B. C. 146). The houses were razed to the ground, and the province of Africa was the prize of this third ‘Punic war.’ The fall of Greece was cotemporary with that of Carthage. The Achaian League, a confederacy of cities in Greece proper and the Peloponnesus, showing a disposition to be independent of the Romans, provoked their vengeance; and the destruction of Corinth in the same year as that of Carthage extinguished the last sparks of liberty in Greece. The whole of the Greek countries were parceled out into Roman provinces, and from that time Greeks became the slave teachers of the Romans, their secretaries, their sycophants, their household wits. Yet out of Greece thus ruined there afterwards arose many great spirits; for no degradation, no series of misfortunes, could eradicate the wondrous intellect which lurked in the fine Greek organization. The last scene in this long series of wars was enacted in Spain, where, roused by a noble patriot called Viriathus—​the Wallace of that day—​the native tribes had revolted against the Romans. The fate of Spain, however, was sealed by the destruction of Numantia by Scipio Æmilianus (B. C. 133).

By the wars of 130 years which we have thus enumerated, the following countries had become subject to Rome:—​Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and the smaller islands of the Mediterranean; Macedonia; Illyricum, with Thessaly and Epirus; Greece, including Greece proper and the Peloponnesus; Spain; and the whole northern coast of Africa. The Romans had likewise established their influence in Asia. The conquered countries were divided into provinces, so that the designation for the Roman dominion became ‘Italy and the Provinces.’ The provinces received each an organization at the time of its formation, according to its circumstances. Retaining their national habits, religion, laws, etc., the inhabitants of every province were governed by a military president, sent from Rome, with a staff of officials. Unlike the Italic nations, who furnished only subsidies of men to the sovereign states, the provincials were required to pay taxes in money and kind; and these taxes, were farmed out by the censors—​Roman citizens, who, under the name of Publicans, settled in the various districts of the provinces, and proved a great scourge by their avarice and rapacity.

To some towns and localities in the provinces, the Italic franchise was extended as a token of favor. Altogether, the government of the provinces was one which, although it led to beneficial results, in binding together a large mass of the human race, and carrying on various races and languages simultaneously in a career of civilization, yet gave great scope for oppression. Like a network proceeding from a centre, the political system of the Romans pervaded the mass of millions of human beings inhabiting the shores of the Mediterranean, holding them together by its mechanical tenacity, and slowly working them into union by its own powers of impregnation as well as by means of those ideas and moral agencies whose dissemination and operation over large areas at once it so marvellously facilitated. What a career was thus opened up for those who occupied the centre of this network—​the population of Rome! What a grand thing in those days to be a Roman citizen; so that, wherever one walked—​in Spain, in Africa, or even in once great Athens—​one was followed, feasted, flattered to one’s face, and mocked behind one’s back! What means of moneymaking in the provinces for the avaricious Romans! What opportunities for well-doing for the philanthropic! Alas! a philanthropic Roman was almost a contradiction in terms. To be patriotic was the highest virtue; and if a Roman, along with his patriotism, possessed a just disposition, those who were under his government might consider themselves fortunate. Nor was the career of administration in the provinces open to all Roman citizens. The following passage, which we translate from a French work—​(‘Etudes sur l’Histoire Romaine, par Prosper Mérimée, Paris, 1844,’)—​will give an idea of the manner in which a Roman citizen attained to public honors, and will illustrate the general spirit of the Roman administration. ‘The laws,’ says this author, ‘opened to all the citizens the career of magistracy; but in reality it was shut against all but those whom fortune or family credit placed in an exceptional situation. As all public offices were obtained by the suffrages of the people, it was of the utmost importance to make creatures in every class of society. In order to muster all these on the great day of election, there were no labors, fatigues, and even meannesses to which Romans of illustrious families did not submit from their earliest boyhood. Some offered the patronage of their families to embarrassed pleaders; others opened their purses to poor artisans; whoever had a vote in the comitia was flattered and cajoled in every possible way. From the time that the candidate had attained the age at which the law permitted him to stand for the dignity of the quæstorship—​that by which he must make his debut in public life—​he appeared in the Forum clothed in a white robe, shook hands with all the country folks, and with the lowest plebeians, solicited their votes, and often purchased them for money. The quæstor, once appointed, found the doors of the senate open for him. Ordinarily he was attached to the person of a consul, or a magistrate of superior rank, becoming his lieutenant; sometimes he obtained a little government for himself. In these offices he could learn business habits and find occasions for distinguishing himself, and for causing his name to be mentioned often in the senate or the assemblies of the people.

After the quæstorship came the Curule Edileship, a purely civil magistracy, whose duties consisted in watching the arrival of provisions, guarding public monuments, seeing to the embellishment of the city, and finally, in preparing the games and solemn shows. This charge entailed enormous expense on those ediles who wished to make themselves popular. They built temples and porticoes at their own cost, opened roads, constructed aqueducts; above all, they tried to surpass their predecessors by the magnificence of the games which they caused to be celebrated, and the truly colossal expense which they in part sustained. A happy man was that edile who had been able to exhibit in the arena the deaths of an unusual number of able gladiators, or who had presented to the people animals of a rare species or unknown before. His name was in every mouth, and all applauded his sprouting ambition. The edileship lasted a year. After it came the prætorship. There were six prætors—​two presided over the tribunals at Rome, the others governed provinces or commanded armies. Finally after having successively gone through the three previous stages, one presented himself as a candidate for the consulship. Intriguing, corruption, manœuvring of all kinds was now redoubled; for this was the goal of a Roman’s ambition. The consuls presided over the government of the republic, or directed important wars in person. At the expiration of their magistracy—​that is, after a year—​they were sent to a province with the title of Proconsuls; often to command military expeditions, almost always to administer an extensive government. In turn to amass and expend great wealth, was thus the chief care of candidates for honors. The profits of the quæstorship enabled one to make a brilliant curule edileship. Ruined by his extravagance, the edile repaired his fortune in the prætorship, and returned to Rome rich enough to buy votes at the consular election. Frequently he staked his all on this last election, confident of more than making it up again in the province which would be assigned him after his consulship. In a word, the career of public employment was a species of gambling, in which one’s profits were proportional to one’s stakes.’

Such a state of things as is here described, implies that an immense change had taken place in the character of the Roman society during the rapid career of foreign conquest which had elevated Rome from the position of metropolis of Italy to that of metropolis of the civilized world. The distinction between patrician and plebeian was now scarcely heard of (in B. C. 172 both consuls had been plebeians for the first time); it was superseded by that between illustrious and obscure; rich and poor. Although, however, the system of corruption was so general, that scarcely any one could attain to office except by unworthy means, yet there were at that time, and in the midst of that system, many men of really noble character. Among these must not be forgotten the honest old censor Cato, the enemy of Carthage, who kept up a constant protest all his life against what he called the growing luxury of his countrymen, and died declaring that they were a degenerate race. Of equal integrity with Cato, although of altogether a different form of character, were the two brothers of world-famous name, whose actions we shall now briefly notice.

THE REVOLUTIONS OF THE GRACCHI

‘A fatal effect,’ says M. Mérimée, ‘of the Roman domination was the impoverishment and depopulation of Italy. At Rome, where commerce and industry were despised, only one way led to wealth—​a career of public service. On his return from his government, a Roman official bought lands, built villas, and all at once became a great proprietor. If he chanced to have in his neighborhood an estate to his taste, he caused it to be ceded to him; sometimes he seized it while the lawful owner was fighting far away under the Roman eagles. By degrees all the small proprietors were despoiled, in order to form vast estates for the privileged class of public functionaries. Parks, gardens, and expensive fish-ponds took the place of cultivated fields. Laborers disappeared, and the country was peopled with slaves, dangerous by their numbers, and also by their robber habits, which they practised with impunity. Some masters, it is said, shared the profits of robbery with these wretches.’

The great social evils of the day—​the extinction of the old peasant proprietors of Italy; and the vast increase of slaves, the danger of which had been already manifested by several servile revolts in Sicily; and the congregation in the towns, and especially in Rome, of vast masses of population, not living as the artisans and traders in modern towns do, by honest industry, but living in noisy idleness upon the alms of the provinces and the sums they received for their votes—​these social evils must have struck many generous hearts among the Romans. The man, however, on whom they produced so decided an impression as to lead him to devote his life to their removal, was Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, the son of a plebeian of rank who had attained distinction in the Spanish wars, and of Cornelia, the daughter of the great Scipio. Abandoning, in its first stage, the more tempting career which led through the quæstorship, edileship, and prætorship to the consulship, Tiberius chose rather the office of tribune of the people, which was more suitable for the purposes of political agitation. Elected to this office B. C. 133, in the twenty-ninth year of his age, he propounded his schemes of reform. His grand project was a revival, with some modifications, of the famous agrarian law of Licinius, which had long fallen into tacit desuetude. All citizens who were in possession of a larger extent of the state land than the 500 jugera allowed by the Licinian law (unless in the case of fathers of two sons, who were to be allowed 250 jugera in addition for each of them), were to be deprived of the surplus; the buildings, vine-presses, etc., which were erected on these surplus lands to be purchased at a fair valuation; and the whole land thus seized was to constitute a stock out of which the pauper plebeians of the city were to be furnished with little farms for the honest support of themselves and families, these farms to be incapable of alienation by the persons to whom they should be allotted. Utterly revolutionary as this measure would seem in modern legislation, and sufficiently sweeping as it was, even in a Roman point of view, considering that however unjustly the ancestors of many of the large proprietors had come by their lands, yet long possession and frequent transference had in many cases sanctified the ownership—​still the measure was strictly in the spirit of Roman law, and one of the supporters of Gracchus in proposing it was the eminent jurist Mucius Scævola. Tiberius and his associates probably thought that the ends proposed—​the removal of the venal mob out of Rome, and the restoration in Italy of a population of hard-working peasant proprietors, instead of the gangs of bandit slaves—​were difficult enough to require, and glorious enough to justify, somewhat revolutionary means. Accordingly, advocating by his eloquence in the Forum the scheme which he had matured in private, he did not cease until, in spite of the most obstinate resistance on the part of the senators, who used as their instrument against him one of his own colleagues in the tribuneship, he had gained his end. Three commissioners were appointed to superintend the execution of the law—​Tiberius himself, his father-in-law Appius Claudius, and his younger brother Caius. Loud and deep were the vows of vengeance on the part of the senators; and Tiberius saw that his only chance of life lay in being reelected to the tribuneship, the dignity of which was an inviolable protection. To prevent this, the senatorial party mustered all their strength; and a tumult ensuing on one of the days of election, Tiberius, along with about 300 of his followers, was killed.

For about ten years the excitement caused by the law of Gracchus continued, Fulvius Flaccus and Papirius Carbo acting as his successors in the popular interest, and carrying on the struggle against the nobles, who raised up obstacles to the execution of the law. But in the year B. C. 123, Caius Gracchus, who now felt himself old enough to assume the career which his brother had left him as an inheritance, claimed and obtained the tribuneship. Caius was a man of more vehement character and more comprehensive views than his brother, and the schemes which he proposed embraced a great variety of points, besides a reënactment of his brother’s agrarian law. In fact, a reformer by reputation and education, he made it his business to find out abuses, and either declaim against them or propose remedies for them. Perhaps the most objectionable of his measures was a law enacting a monthly distribution of corn among the city population at a nominal price—​a poor-law, for such it may be called, which had the effect of attracting all the paupers of Italy to Rome. A more valuable measure was his transference of the judicial power from the senators, who had hitherto held it, and who had been guilty of great corruption in the exercise of it, to the equites, or wealthy capitalists, intermediate between the senators and the poorer classes of the community. He also proposed and carried the establishment or various colonies in different parts of the empire, which afforded room for enterprise, thus relieving Rome of part of its overgrown population. More fortunate so far than his brother, he held the tribuneship for two years, and thus had time for more extensive action. Deserted, however, by the people at the end of the second year, in consequence of the policy of his opponents, who adopted the plan of outbidding him for popular favor, he lost his office. The senators, having him at their mercy, spared no means of revenge; and Gracchus, and his friend Fulvius Flaccus, having recourse to the armed assistance of their supporters to preserve their lives when they appeared in public, this was construed into a design of sedition. The consul was empowered to resort to force against them; a terrible fray occurred in one of the quarters of the town, 3000, it is said, being slain; and Gracchus was killed while trying to escape into the country (B. C. 121). He was then only in the thirty-third year of his age.

The aristocracy thus triumphed for the time, and the recent measures of reform were suffered to fall into disuse; but certain portions of the policy of the two brothers had taken full effect, and the agitation which they had originated was not lulled for many years. The seeds of much that afterwards appeared in storm and bloodshed, were sown during these movements of B. C. 133–121; and as long as the world takes an interest in Roman history, or respects disinterested political courage, it will remember the Gracchi.

THE JUGURTHINE, CIMBRIC, AND SOCIAL WARS—​MARIUS AND SULLA.

In the year of the first tribuneship of Caius Gracchus, the Belearic islands were added to the Roman dominion; and six years afterwards (B. C. 117), Dalmatia was reduced to a Roman province. About this time the famous Jugurtha, the illegitimate son of one of the sons of Masinissa, already mentioned as a king of Numidia in the Roman interest, was left heir to that kingdom, in conjunction with his two cousins, by Micipsa, their father and his uncle. Aspiring to the undivided sovereignty, he killed one of his cousins, and drove the other to Rome. Interfering in behalf of the expelled prince, the Romans compelled Jugurtha to share Numidia with him. By bribing the commissioners, however, who were sent to effect the division, Jugurtha obtained the best part for himself; and not long after (B. C. 112), he showed his contempt for the Romans by invading his cousin’s dominions, and putting him to death. Bribes and wily tactics protected him for a while from the vengeance of the Romans; but at length, in the year B. C. 109, the brave consul Metellus, who was proof against bribes, went over to Numidia to conduct the war which his predecessors had mismanaged. After he had carried on the war successfully for two years, he was supplanted by his second in command, Caius Marius, a man of humble birth, and nearly fifty years of age, who, although almost without education, had raised himself to high rank by his military talents, and whose services under Metellus had been so favorably represented at Rome, that he was appointed consul (B. C. 107), with the express intention that he should end the Jugurthine war. This he speedily accomplished, greatly assisted by his quæstor, a young man of high patrician family and unusual literary accomplishments, named Lucius Cornelius Sulla. Jugurtha was sent to Rome, where he was starved in prison (B. C. 106); and the services of Marius were at the disposal of the Romans for a war of an infinitely more formidable character than that which had been waged against this ill-fated African.

About the year B. C. 113, a numerous tribe of savages, called Cimbri, but who were most probably Celts, had been set in motion in the south-east of Europe; and emigrating westward, they had communicated their restlessness to the Tutones, and undoubtedly German race, through whose territories they must have passed. Roving about in quest of settlements, sometimes together, and sometimes separately, the two barbarian hosts, consisting of men, women, and children, had thrown all Gaul into consternation; and as the Romans had already colonized the portion of Gaul contiguous to the Alps, the duty of checking the savages devolved on them, the more especially as there was some danger that Italy would be invaded. But such a moving mass of human beings, driven by that hardest of forces, hunger, was not easily to be checked; and army after army sent by the Romans to oppose them had been shivered to pieces. All Italy began to tremble, and there was a universal cry among the Romans, ‘Make Marius again consul.’ Accordingly Marius was chosen consul a second time in his absence (B. C. 104), that he might drive back the Cimbri. Meanwhile the poor homeless creatures had made a general rush towards Spain; and the Romans, to secure the services of Marius when they should be required, reëlected him to the consulship in B. C. 102. In the latter year, when Marius was consul for the fourth time, the barbarians, repulsed from Spain, directed their march towards the Alps. Fortunately, they divided themselves into two masses—​the Teutones taking one route, the Cimbri another. The former, amounting to about 300,000 men, were met by Marius, and slaughtered, all except 90,000, who were made prisoners, and sold as slaves. Meanwhile the Cimbri had been making progress in their route, and to oppose them, Marius was elected to a fifth consulship (B. C. 101). Another bloody field, in which about 140,000 were slain, and 60,000 taken prisoners, delivered Italy from its fears. Strange and affecting thought, that half a million of human beings, women and children, should be wandering through Europe for years, poor outcasts, with their little carts and cooking-kettles, and that a civilized nation should have been compelled, by the necessity of self-preservation, to take means to sweep them out of existence!

Marius was rewarded for his exertions with a sixth consulship (B. C. 100), which, there being now no enemy to call forth his military activity, he employed in political schemes for the humiliation of the aristocratic or senatorial party, to which, both by the accident of birth and on principle, he was a determined enemy. The efforts of the nobles, however, assisted by the violent conduct of the partisans of Marius, especially a tribune named Saturninus, occasioned a reaction; and on the expiry of his consulship, Marius withdrew from Rome, and undertook a journey to the East, where the Roman influence was extending itself. During the following ten years the political agitations were incessant, the liberal spirit of that party of which Marius was the head developing itself every year in fresh manifestations, and the aristocratic party becoming every year more fierce and dogged in their opposition. On the aristocratic side, the ablest and most earnest man, although not yet the most distinguished, was Sulla—​the former quæstor of Marius, and who had since been employed in various capacities both military and civil. At length, in the year B. C. 90, a storm which had been long gathering burst out in that war which is denominated in history ‘the Social or Marsic War,’ or ‘the War of Italian Independence.’

As early as the tribuneship of Caius Gracchus, a clamor had been raised for the emancipation of the various Italian states from the thraldom in which they were held by the Romans. The progress of time welding the various Italian nationalities into one common society, and giving to all parts of the peninsula a common interest, had made them sensible to the grievances arising from their subordinate condition. The system of a triple franchise—​Roman, Latin, and Italian—​inevitable perhaps at first, had now become a source of gross injustice. To put an end to this injustice, the Italians demanded the full Roman franchise. Caius Gracchus wished to bestow it on them; and from the time of his death, ‘Italian emancipation’ had been one of the watchwords of the liberal party. Despairing of effecting their end by agitation, and especially provoked by a recent persecution of the Italian tradesmen who had settled in Rome, the Italian nations had recourse to arms (B. C. 90). Ten of these—​namely, the Piceni, the Vestinians, the Marrucenians, the Marsians, the Pelignians, the Samnites, the Frentanians, the Hirpinians, the Lucanians, and the Apulians, constituted themselves into a confederacy for the destruction of Rome, and the foundation of a new Commonwealth, of which Corfinium, under the new name of Italica, was to be the capital, and which was to embrace the whole peninsula. Fortunately for Rome, the Latins (including the various colonies of the Latin name throughout Italy), the Etruscans, the Umbrians, and the Campanians, did not join the confederacy. The Latins were instantly rewarded with the Roman franchise, and the field was taken against the confederacy. During two years, the war was carried on vigorously on both sides, the most distinguished of the Roman generals being Marius, Sulla, and Cneius Pompeius Strabo. At length (B. C. 89), the Italians having been greatly reduced, and the whole peninsula having suffered much, the Romans saw fit to yield to demands which many even of those whose patriotism led them to fight against the allies believed to be just. The Roman citizenship was extending to all the nations of the peninsula south of the Po, the new citizens being either distributed, according to one account, among eight of the old tribes, or arranged, according to another, in fifteen new ones. At the same time the Latin franchise was conferred on the Gauls between the Po and the Alps.

Sulla had gained greater distinction in the Marsic War than Marius, who was now verging on old age. The public eye was consequently turned to Sulla; and as, on the appearance of the Cimbric hosts twenty years before, the Romans had placed their dependence on Marius, so now, on the breaking out of war in the East, they placed their dependence on his younger rival. Mithridates VI, the young king of Pontus, an Oriental by birth, but of Greek education, and a man of splendid abilities, had been for some years silently extending his dominions in western Asia; and the Romans, long jealous of his movements, had at length openly warned him to desist. Mithridates scouted the warning; marched through Asia Minor, putting the Romans to the sword; and was welcomed everywhere by the Asiatic Greeks as a deliverer from the Roman yoke: ultimately (B. C. 88), crossing over into Greece, he menaced the Empire near its centre.

Sulla, then engaged with the Samnites, the last dregs of the Social War, was chosen consul, and invested with the command against the Eastern monarch. He was then in the forty-ninth year of his age. Vexed at the preference of his rival, the grim old Marius used all his efforts to have the appointment canceled, and himself nominated to the Mithridatic command. His political opinions recommending him to many, and a tribune named Sulpicius having procured the passing of a preliminary measure distributing the new Italian citizens among all the old tribes, which had now attained the number of thirty-five, he at length carried his point, and Sulla was superseded. But the aristocratic general was not a man to be trifled with. Marching from the south of Italy, where he was when he heard the news, he appeared with his army before the city, forced his entrance through the rotten walls, dislodged his antagonists from the houses from which they were throwing stones and missiles at his men, and compelled Marius and his adherents to save their lives by a precipitate flight. Marius escaped to Africa; Sulla, after settling affairs at Rome, set out for Greece. Here he speedily retrieved the Roman losses; sacked Athens, which had provoked him by its opposition; and reduced Archelaus, the general of Mithridates, to such extremities, that having crossed into Asia, Mithridates was glad to conclude a peace with him (B. C. 84), by which he renounced all he had gained, and agreed to pay the expenses of the war. Meanwhile a terrible reaction had occurred at Rome in Sulla’s absence. Scarcely had he left the city (B. C. 87), when Lucius Cornelius Cinna, one of the consuls whose appointment he had sanctioned, proclaimed himself on the popular side, and commenced a series of measures directly opposed to Sulla’s views. His colleague Octavius drove him from Rome, and the senate deposed him from the consulship. The Italians, however, gathered round Cinna; Marius and his fellow-exiles hearing of the movement, hastened back to Italy; all the able military men of the Marian party, and among them a young and generous commander named Sertorius, exerted themselves to raise troops; and at length the aristocratic party found themselves besieged in Rome. Famine and pestilence began their ravages in the city; and the senate, reinstating Cinna in the consulship, capitulated on the understanding that blood should not be shed. But there was little softness in the nature of Marius. Admitted into the city, the stern old man, who was already tottering on the brink of the grave, revenged his wrongs by a frightful massacre, in which many men of distinction fell. Marius then caused himself to be elected to a seventh consulship (B. C. 86), his colleague being Cinna. He enjoyed the unprecedented honor but a few days, dying on the 13th of January (B. C. 86), and Valerius Flaccus was named his successor. Flaccus, setting out with authority to supersede Sulla in the Mithridatic war, was murdered by his legate Flavius Fimbria, who assumed the command of the army, and gained some successes; but being afterwards hard pressed by Sulla, and deserted by his army, committed suicide. This occurred about the time of the conclusion of the peace with Mithridates (B. C. 84); and Sulla, after settling the affairs of Asia Minor, and draining the country of money, so remorselessly as to affect its prosperity for a century, commenced his journey homewards, with bloody purposes against Cinna and his adherents, and an army ready to execute them.

Cinna did not live to face his dreadful enemy. Murdered by his soldiers in his fourth consulship, he left, as his successors in the leadership of the popular party, Caius Marius the Younger, Papirius Carbo, and the brave Sertorius—​the two former of whom were chosen consuls for the year B. C. 82, to oppose Sulla in Italy, while Sertorius was despatched to Spain to secure that province. But Carbo and the younger Marius, even when backed by the brave Samnites and other Italian nations, were not equal to a contest with such a general as Sulla, assisted as he was by commanders like Metellus, Lucullus, and young Cneius Pompeius Strabo, more commonly called Pompey, the son of that Pompeius who had been one of the Roman generals in the Marsic War. The consular armies were defeated; Marius killed himself; Carbo fled to Africa; and Sulla remained master of Italy. Fearful was his vengeance. The massacre which Marius had ordered five years before, was slight compared with the butcheries which took place by the command of Sulla. In Rome, and over all Italy, every man of distinction implicated in the popular movement was sought out and slain. Proscription lists, as they were called—​that is, lists of doomed individuals—​were published; and soldiers were ready to track them out for the prices put upon their heads. Military colonies were likewise planted in all parts of Italy—​lands being taken by force for that purpose: thus purging Italy of the Marian leaven, Sulla was resolved to create in it a new population, which should be pliant to aristocratic influence.

The work of the soldier over, Sulla commenced that of the legislator. Appointed perpetual dictator B. C. 82, he continued for three years to exercise the sovereignty, making alterations in the constitution, the general effect of which was to lessen the power of the people in political affairs, and reforming the criminal law. In B. C. 79, he surprised every one by abdicating the dictatorship, and retiring into private life; and in the following year he died of a loathsome and incurable disorder, brought on by his debaucheries. Among other evidences of Sulla’s literary accomplishments, he left memoirs of his own life composed in Greek.

POMPEY—​CICERO—​CATILINE—​CÆSAR.

After the death of Sulla, the most distinguished man of the aristocratic party was Pompey, who had been engaged in reducing Sicily and Africa to allegiance after his chief had triumphed in Italy. Some attempts were made to revive the Marian cause after the dictator’s death, but by the exertions of Pompey and others they were suppressed, and only in Spain had the Marian party still a stronghold. There the brave Sertorius, at the head of the Marian refugees and the native Spaniards, was fast establishing a power likely to rival that of Italy. None of the Sullanian generals, not even Pompey, who went to Spain in B. C. 76, could gain an advantage when opposed to his splendid generalship; and had he not perished by treachery (B. C. 74), Spain would have become an instrument in his hands for overturning all that had been done by Sulla in Italy. Possibly even Spain might have superseded her sister peninsula as the seat of Roman power. But after the death of Sertorius, his army crumbled away; and, conquering his successor Perpenna, Pompey found the pacification of Spain an easy task. Returning to Italy in the height of the reputation which the discharge of this office procured to him, he arrived (B. C. 71) in time to have some share in another war of a frightful character which had been desolating Italy in his absence. In the year B. C. 73, seventy gladiators, headed by a Thracian named Spartacus, had broken out of a school, or rather gladiator warehouse, at Capua, where they were kept in training; and, speedily joined by all the slaves and gladiators of the neighborhood, they had taken up their position on Mount Vesuvius. Finding himself at the head of a large army, Spartacus had given battle to several Roman generals, and defeated them; and the conquering host which he commanded was on the point of crossing into Sicily, after ravaging Italy, when it was attacked and cut to pieces by the prætor Licinius Crassus (B. C. 71). Spartacus died fighting; such of the gladiators and slaves as were taken prisoners were crucified, or impaled alive; and the remnant which had escaped Crassus were met and destroyed in the north of Italy by Pompey, as he was returning from Spain. Pompey and Crassus were chosen consuls for the year B. C. 70, the former being then in his thirty-sixth year. Although both were disciples of Sulla, yet obeying the necessities of the time, they repealed several of his enactments, and passed various measures of liberal tendency.

Pompey was at this time the idol of Rome; and although after his consulship he retired into private life, he was soon called upon to exercise his abilities in a post of greater dignity and responsibility than had ever been formally conferred on any Roman before him. The Mediterranean was at that time infested with pirates, who had become so numerous and so audacious during the recent convulsions, that the coast of the Italian peninsula itself was not safe from their attacks, and not a ship could sail from any port in the Roman dominions, even in the service of government, without the risk of being captured. To enable Pompey to free the Empire from this nuisance, he was invested (B. C. 67) with supreme command for three years over the whole Mediterranean and its coasts for 400 stadia inland, with power to raise as many men and ships and as much money as he chose. Thus virtually made master of the Roman world, Pompey exerted himself so vigorously and judiciously, that within the short period of three months he had cleared the sea of every pirate vessel. That his command might not lie dormant for the remainder of the three years for which he had been appointed, a tribune of the people proposed and carried a law conferring on him the additional command of Pontus, Bithynia, and Armenia, in order to secure his services in finishing a war which was then going on with Mithridates. This was the third war with that monarch; for there had been a second short war with him B. C. 83–81. The present war had originated in some overtures made by Sertorius to Mithridates in B. C. 74; but Sertorius having died in the same year, Mithridates was left to maintain the war alone. The general sent to oppose him was Lucullus, who carried on the war very successfully till Pompey came to supersede him. For four years Pompey remained in Asia, breaking the power of Mithridates, and negotiating with the monarchs of Parthia, Armenia, etc. He traversed the greater part of Asia Minor, establishing the Roman influence; dethroned the king of Syria, and added it and Phœnicia to the number of the Roman provinces; entered Palestine, where a civil war was then raging between the brothers Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, declared in favor of the former, besieged and took Jerusalem, and having imposed a tribute on the Jews, commenced his march homewards. On his return through Asia Minor, he found that Mithridates had in the meantime killed himself in despair; and as there was no one to take up that monarch’s part, he was able to parcel out Asia Minor as he chose—​erecting some portions into provinces, and giving others in charge to tributary princes. With the glory of having thus subjugated and settled the East, the fortunate Pompey prepared to return to Rome in the year B. C. 62.

Meanwhile Rome had been the scene of one of the most extraordinary attempts at revolution recorded in history—​the famous conspiracy of Catiline. No passage in Roman history is involved in such obscurity as this; for the accounts of the conspiracy left by Sallust and other Latin authors are not nearly so satisfactory to the genuine student of history, as they are pleasant to the mere reader for amusement. M. Mérimée supposes that, several years after Sulla’s death, there arose in Rome four distinct parties—​the ‘oligarchical faction,’ consisting of the small number of families, the chiefs of which directed the senate, and in fact governed the republic; the ‘aristocratic faction,’ comprehending the mass of the senators, anxious to exercise the power which they saw usurped by a small number of their colleagues; the ‘party of Marius,’ including all those whose families had been persecuted by Sulla, and who now began to rally, and aspire to power; and lastly, the ‘military factions,’ embracing a crowd of old officers of Sulla, who, having squandered the fortunes they had gained under him, and seeing themselves excluded from public affairs, were eager for some convulsion which might improve their condition. At the head of the first party was Pompey, now absent in Asia. In his absence, the soul of the oligarchical party was the celebrated Marcus Tullius Cicero—​an advocate of extraordinary intellect, born B. C. 106, a few months after Pompey, and who, entering public life early, had soon established his reputation as the first orator in Rome. Of plebeian birth, it might have been expected that he would attach himself to the democratic side; but circumstances, and his natural disposition, which was weak, and fond of the consideration of others, had won him over to the side of the oligarchy, to whom his talents were invaluable. Having passed through the quæstorship, and edileship, and prætorship, which last he held B. C. 66, he now aspired to the highest dignity in the state. Such was the leader of the oligarchical party. The leader of the aristocratic party was Crassus, formerly the colleague of Pompey in the consulship, and now his personal rival. Besides Crassus, the senators had an active and most conscientious partisan in Marcus Porcius Cato, who had been tribune of the people—​a great-grandson of Cato the Censor, and possessed of all his integrity. The leader of the third or Marian party was a man six years younger than Pompey or Cicero, and who, known during his youth for his accomplishments, his love of pleasure, his firmness of purpose, and the boundless generosity of his character, had just earned for himself the applauses of all Rome by the lavish magnificence of his edileship (B. C. 65). This was Caius Julius Cæsar, the greatest man that ever Rome produced. He was the son of a man who had died suddenly, without having made any figure in public life; his family was one of the noblest in Rome; and his aunt had been the wife of Marius. Literature and pleasure had occupied his youth, and only now was he beginning to take an active part in public affairs, although with a force and earnestness which at once marked him out as a man who was to lead. With chivalrous recklessness of consequences, he had done justice to his uncle’s memory at a time when it was hardly safe to mention the name of Marius; and now the relics of the Marian party gathered round him with hope, while the oligarchy and aristocracy, with the presentiment of what he was to become, would fain have crushed him. Nine years older than Cæsar, and three years older than Cicero or Pompey, was the leader of the fourth or military faction—​Lucius Sergius Catilina, more commonly called Catiline, a man of illustrious birth, and who had distinguished himself as one of the ablest and most ferocious officers of Sulla. His reputation, owing partly to his haggard personal appearance, and partly to vague rumors of horrible crimes which he had committed, was one of the blackest; and as he walked along the streets with gigantic body, but hurried and uncertain step, men pointed, and said that that was Catiline. Yet he possessed extraordinary abilities, and a peculiar power of fascinating those with whom he wished to establish a friendly relation. He had already been prætor (B. C. 67), and there was a large class, consisting principally of debauched young patricians and ruined military men, who looked forward eagerly to his election to the consulship.

Prevented, by a charge of extortion brought against him in his capacity of prætor, from becoming a candidate for the consulship of the year B. C. 65, Catiline came forward as candidate in the following year. Cicero was his rival; and the senators mustered in sufficient strength to return the orator. Enraged at his defeat, Catiline began to plot a seditious movement with his patrician adherents, among whom were Lentulus, Cethegus, Cæparius, etc. Rome, it was said, was to be set on fire, and the consuls and many of the senators murdered. Towards the end of the year (B. C. 64), these designs had become ripe, and emissaries of Catiline were abroad throughout Italy. Meanwhile Cicero had obtained private intelligence of the conspiracy, and on the 8th of November he addressed Catiline in such vehement terms in the senate-house, that the conspirator fled into Etruria, from which he continued to correspond with his accomplices in Rome. Having obtained satisfactory proofs of the guilt of these accomplices, and having been empowered by the senate to act as he chose for the good of state, Cicero caused Lentulus, Cethegus, Statilius, and Cæparius to be apprehended; and these four, notwithstanding the motion of Cæsar for a more moderate punishment, were put to death in prison; Cicero’s activity had saved the Commonwealth. Catiline, however, who had raised troops in Etruria, continued to menace the state till the beginning of B. C. 62, when he and many of his patrician supporters died fighting like lions against the troops sent to destroy them. Thus the insane movement of the military faction was crushed: there remained, however, much of the Catilinarian leaven diffused through Italy—​men of broken fortunes and profligate characters, to whom turmoil and riot afforded the only chance of promotion.

THE TRIUMVIRATE—​CÆSAR’S GALLIC WARS—​WAR BETWEEN CÆSAR AND POMPEY.

When Pompey returned to Rome (B. C. 61), he found the senatorial party predominant, and Cicero incessantly talking about the Catilinarian conspiracy, and how he had crushed it. Pompey enjoyed a triumph more splendid than any conquering general had received before him; and the sums which he added to the public treasury were enormous; yet he could not procure from the senate that general ratification of his measures in Asia to which he thought himself entitled. Cato and other senators insisted on a full investigation of his measures one by one, ere the sanction which he required should be granted. This conduct on the part of the senators brought Pompey into closer connection with Cæsar; and these two eminent men, finding that they agreed in many of their views, and that at least they were one in their opposition to the senate, resolved to unite their forces so as to work for their common ends with double strength. For various reasons, it was found desirable to admit Crassus to this political partnership; and accordingly, in the year B. C. 60, was formed that famous coalition for mutual support between Pompey, Crassus, and Cæsar, which is known in Roman history by the name of the ‘First Triumvirate.’ Elected to the consulship of the year B. C. 59, Cæsar infused new life into Roman politics, proposing measures of so liberal a nature, and persevering in them with such obstinacy, that the senate became almost frantic, and his colleague Bibulus shut himself up in his house for eight months in disgust. Among these measures was a ratification of Pompey’s proceedings in Asia, and an agrarian law for providing lands for Pompey’s disbanded soldiers and a number of destitute citizens. In the same year Cæsar gave his daughter Julia in marriage to Pompey, who had already been married twice. On retiring from the consulship, he obtained, by an unusual stretch of generosity on the part of the grateful people and the intimidated senate, the supreme command for five years over the two Gauls (Cisalpine and Transalpine) and Illyricum. This was probably the great object of Cæsar’s desires; at all events, it was the best possible thing which could have happened for him and the republic. Master of Gaul, and with an army devoted to his will, he could there mature his power silently and undisturbed, and qualify himself for entering, at the proper period, upon the career for which he was destined, and rescuing, by military force, the ill-governed Empire out of the hands of contending factions.

The condition of affairs in Rome during Cæsar’s absence in Gaul was indeed such as to prove the necessity of some radical change in the system of the Commonwealth. All was confusion and violence. Clodius, a profligate relic of the Catilinarian party, having been elected to the tribuneship B. C. 58, procured the banishment of Cicero for his conduct in the affair of the conspiracy. In the following year, however, Clodius having in the meantime made himself generally odious, Cicero was recalled. Pompey and Crassus were elected consuls for the year B. C. 55. Mindful of their connection with Cæsar, who was of course in constant correspondence with them, they procured a prolongation of his command over the Gauls for a second period of five years; at the same time obtaining for themselves—​Pompey, the government of Spain for five years; and Crassus that of Syria and adjacent countries for a similar period. In B. C. 55, Crassus set out for the scene of his command, where, soon afterwards, he perished in a fruitless expedition against the Parthians; Pompey remained at home, governing Spain by deputies. During several subsequent years, Rome was in a state of anarchy and misrule—​the streets perambulated by armed mobs, partisans on the one hand of Clodius, and on the other of a powerful citizen called Milo, between whom a feud was carried on, as desperate and bloody as any that ever distracted a European town in the middle ages. In one of the numerous scuffles which took place between the contending parties, Clodius was killed; and taking advantage of the opportunity, the tottering government asserted its rights by bringing Milo to trial, and procuring his banishment.

Meanwhile the remedy was preparing. Among the marshes and forests of Gaul, the great Cæsar was accumulating that strength of men and purpose with which he was to descend on Italy and shiver the rotton fabric of the Commonwealth. ‘Fain,’ says the eloquent Michelet—​‘fain would I have seen that fair and pale countenance, prematurely aged by the debaucheries of the capital—​fain would I have seen that delicate and epileptic man, marching in the rains of Gaul at the head of his legions, and swimming across our rivers, or else on horseback, between the litters in which his secretaries were carried, dictating even six letters at a time, shaking Rome from the extremity of Belgium, sweeping from his path two millions of men, and subduing in ten years Gaul, the Rhine, and the ocean of the north. This barbarous and bellicose chaos of Gaul was a superb material for such a genius. The Gallic tribes were on every side calling in the stranger; Druidism was in its decline; Italy was exhausted; Spain untameable; Gaul was essential to the subjugation of the world.’ Cæsar’s Gallic wars of themselves form a history. We have an account of them yet remaining from the pen of the conqueror himself, and that of his friend Hirtius. Suffice it to say, that in eight years (B. C. 58–50) Cæsar had conquered all Gaul, including the present France and Belgium; had paid two visits to the island of Great Britain (B. C. 55–54); and was able, in the spring of B. C. 50, to take up his residence in Cisalpine Gaul, leaving the 300 tribes beyond the Alps, which he had conquered by such bloody means, not only pacified, but even attached to himself personally. His army, which included many Gauls and Germans, were so devoted to him, that they would have marched to the end of the world in his service.

Cæsar’s conquests in Gaul were of course a subject of engrossing interest at Rome, and when the city enjoyed an interval of repose from the commotions caused by Clodius and Milo, nothing else was talked of. ‘Compared with this man,’ said Cicero, ‘what was Marius?’ and the saying was but an expression of the popular enthusiasm. Cæsar’s visits to Britain excited especial interest; and at first there were not wanting sceptics who maintained that there was no such island in existence, and that the alleged visit of Cæsar to that place of savages, where pearls were found in the rivers, was a mere hoax on the public. As, however, the period of Cæsar’s command drew near its close, and it became known that he aspired to a second consulship, the fears of the aristocratic party began to manifest themselves. ‘What may not this conqueror of Gaul do when he returns to Rome?’ was the saying of Cato, and others of the senators. ‘Accustomed during so many years to the large and roomy action of a camp, will he be able to submit again to civic trammels? Will he not rather treat us as if we were his subordinate officers—​Roman laws as if they were savage customs—​and our city itself as if it were a Gallic forest?’ Unfortunately, also, the Triumvirate no longer existed to support Cæsar’s interests. Crassus was dead; and Pompey—​whose connection with Cæsar had been severed by the death of his wife, Cæsar’s beloved daughter Julia (B. C. 54)—​had since gone over to the aristocratic party, to which he had formerly belonged, and whose policy was, upon the whole, more genial to his character. In B. C. 52, he enjoyed a third consulship, without a colleague, having been appointed by the senators as the man most likely to restore order to the distracted state; and during the following year, he lent his aid to those enemies of Cæsar who insisted that, ere he should be allowed to stand for the consulship, he should be obliged to resign his Gallic command, and resume his station as a private citizen, ready to meet any charges which might be brought against him. Cæsar did not want agents in Rome—​some of them paid, some of them voluntary—​to plead his cause; and through these he offered to resign his command, provided Pompey would do the same with regard to Spain. The proposal was not listened to; and a decree of the senate having been passed that Cæsar should disband his army against a certain day, under pain of being treated as a public enemy, his agents left the city, and hastened to his camp in Cisalpine Gaul (B. C. 50).

Cæsar did not delay a moment. Sending orders to his various legions distributed through Gaul to follow him as speedily as possible, he placed himself at the head of such forces as were with him at the instant, crossed the small stream called the Rubicon, which separated his province of Cisalpine Gaul from Italy, and advanced towards Rome, amid cheers of welcome from the populations which he passed through. Utterly bewildered by his unexpected arrival, the whole senatorial party, with Pompey at their head, abandoned Rome, and proceeded into the south of Italy, where they tried to raise forces. Cæsar pursued them, and drove them into Greece. Then hastening into Spain, he suppressed a rising Pompeian movement in that country. Returning to Rome with the title of Dictator, which had been bestowed on him during his absence, he passed various salutary measures for restoring order in Italy, and among them one conferring the Roman citizenship on the Cisalpine Gauls; then crossed over into Greece (B. C. 49) to give battle to Pompey, who had meanwhile assembled forces from all parts of the Roman dominion. At length the two armies met on the plain of Pharsalia in Thessaly (9th August B. C. 48), when Pompey sustained a complete defeat. Not long afterwards he was killed by the orders of Ptolemy, king of Egypt, when seeking to land on the coast of that country. Cæsar, who had used his victory with great moderation, arrived in Egypt soon after, and remained there several months, fascinated by Cleopatra, who was then at war with her brother Ptolemy.

Having settled the affairs of Egypt, Cæsar proceeded to Asia Minor, crushed an insurrection there headed by Pharnaces, the son of Mithridates, and then (September, B. C. 47) returned to Italy. He remained there but a few months, setting out in the beginning of B. C. 46 for Africa, where the relics of the Pompeian party had taken refuge. These were soon defeated; and Cato, the most distinguished man among them, killed himself rather than to fall into his conqueror’s hands. Pompey’s two sons escaped to Spain, where they excited an insurrection, which, however, was soon suppressed.

EXTINCTION OF THE COMMONWEALTH—​DICTATORSHIP AND DEATH OF CÆSAR—​THE SECOND TRIUMVIRATE—​CIVIL WARS OF MARK ANTONY AND OCTAVIANUS.

From August B. C. 48, when he defeated Pompey at Pharsalia, till March B. C. 44, when he was assassinated, Julius Cæsar was supreme master of the Roman world. Senate and people vied with each other in conferring dignities upon him; and all the great offices and titles recognized by the Roman constitution—​as consul, dictator, censor, tribune, etc.—​were concentrated in his person, while he exercised the virtual patronage of almost all the rest. In short, the Commonwealth may be said to have ceased when he defeated Pompey; and had he lived long enough, there is no doubt that he would have fully established the Empire. It was not so much, however, in organic changes of the constitution, as in practical reforms of vast moment, that Cæsar exercised the enormous power which had been placed in his hands. Besides the various measures of reform which he actually carried into effect during his dictatorship, among which his famous reform of the Calendar deserves especial mention, there were innumerable schemes which he had projected for himself, and some of which he would probably have executed, had his life not been cut short. To extend the Roman dominion in the East; to drain the Pontine marshes; to cut through the Isthmus of Corinth; to prepare a complete map of the Roman Empire; to draw up a new digest of Roman law; to establish public libraries in the metropolis—​such were a few of the designs which this great man entertained at the time when the conspiracy was formed which led to his assassination. At the head of this plot, which consisted of about sixty persons of note, were Brutus and Cassius, both men of the highest abilities, and esteemed by Cæsar; and the former at least actuated by motives of the purest character. The immediate occasion of the conspiracy was the rumor that Cæsar intended to accept the title of king, which some of his adherents were pressing upon him. When the plot was matured (B. C. 44) it was resolved that Cæsar should be assassinated in the senate-house on the ides (the 15) of March, on which day it was understood a motion was to be brought forward by some of his friends for appointing him king of Italy. ‘Upon the first onset,’ says Plutarch, ‘those who were not privy to the design were astonished, and their horror of the action was so great, that they durst not fly, nor assist Cæsar, nor so much as speak a word. But those who came prepared for the business enclosed him on every side, with their naked daggers in their hands, and which way soever he turned he met with blows, and saw their swords leveled at his face and eyes. Brutus gave him one stab in the groin. Some say that he fought and resisted all the rest, and moved from one place to another calling for help; but when he saw Brutus’s sword drawn, he covered his face with his robe, and quietly surrendered himself, till he was pushed, either by chance or design, to the pedestal on which Pompey’s statue stood, which by that means was much stained with his blood: so that Pompey himself may seem to have had his share in the revenge of his former enemy, who fell at his feet, and breathed out his soul through the multitude of his wounds; for they say he received three-and-twenty.’

The assassination of Cæsar has justly been pronounced ‘the most stupid action that ever the Romans committed.’ The later ages of the republic had been one continued scene of violence and anarchy; and not until Cæsar had risen to the chief power in the state was there a restoration of order and efficient government. His assassination plunged the Roman dominions into new and complicated civil wars. On the one side were the conspirators with Brutus and Cassius at their head, bent on the futile project of throwing back the Empire into the condition of a republic. On the other were Mark Antony, an able and valiant officer of Cæsar’s; Lepidus, another officer of less distinguished abilities; and Marcus Octavius, a young man of eighteen, Cæsar’s grandnephew, and who, as his uncle’s heir, now assumed the name of Caius Julius Cæsar Octavianus. These three united themselves into a triumvirate (November B. C. 44) for avenging Cæsar’s death, and settling the affairs of the republic. After making themselves masters of Italy, and putting to death by wholesale proscription all those citizens whose views they suspected, among others the great and amiable Cicero, they pursued the conspirators into Greece. At length, in the autumn of B. C. 42, two great battles were fought at Philippi in Macedonia between the republican forces and those of the triumvirate. The former were defeated; Cassius caused himself to be slain, Brutus committed suicide, and the triumvirs thus remained masters of the Roman world. They divided it among them: Antony assuming the government of the East, Lepidus obtaining Africa, and Octavianus returning to Italy, master of the countries adjacent to that peninsula. Each continued to govern his share for some time independently; but a quarrel ensuing between Octavianus and Lepidus, the latter was deprived of his power, and obliged to retire into private life. The Empire was now divided between Antony and Octavianus, the former master of the East, the latter of the West. At length, however, political and private reasons led to a rupture between the two potentates (B. C. 33). The rash and pleasure-loving Antony, who had been caught in the toils of Cleopatra, the licentious queen of Egypt, and therefore one of his subject sovereigns as master of the East, was no match for the cunning, abstemious, and remorseless Octavianus. Defeated at the battle of Actium (2d September B. C. 31), he fled with Cleopatra to Egypt, where, being hard pressed by Octavianus, they both died by their own hands. Octavianus thus remained sole master (B. C. 30) of the great Empire which Julius Cæsar had prepared for him; and under the new name of Augustus, he continued to wield the sovereignty during the long period of forty-four years (B. C. 30-A. D. 14). During these forty-four years, the various races and nations which so many centuries of conquest had connected together, became consolidated into that historic entity—​‘The Roman Empire.’

CONDITION OF THE EMPIRE UNDER AUGUSTUS.

The Roman Empire under Augustus consisted of Italy and the following countries governed as provinces:—​In Europe, Sicily, Sardinia, and the other islands in the west of the Mediterranean, Gaul as far as the Rhine, Spain, Illyricum, Dalmatia, Pannonia, Thrace, Macedonia, Greece, and the islands of the Ægean; in Asia, all the countries between the Caspian Sea, the Parthian Empire, the Persian and Arabian Gulfs, the Mediterranean, and the Caucasus; and in Africa, Mauritania, Numidia, the ancient territory of Carthage, Cyrene, and Egypt. Within these limits there may have been included, in all, about 100,000,000 of human beings, of different races, complexions, languages, and degrees of civilization. Not less than one-half of the whole number must have been in a condition of slavery, and of the rest, only that small proportion who, under the envied name of Roman citizens, inhabited Italy, or were distributed, in official or other capacities, through the cities of the Empire, enjoyed political independence. These ‘citizens,’ diffused through the conquered countries, constituted the ingredient by which the whole was kept in union. Working backwards and forwards in the midst of the various populations in which they were thus planted, the Romans assimilated them gradually to each other, till Celts, Spaniards, Asiatics, etc., became more or less Romanized. This process of assimilation was much facilitated by the circumstance that, with the exception of Judea and other portions of the East, all the nations of the Roman Empire were polytheistic in their beliefs, so that there was no fundamental repugnance in this respect between the modes of thought of one nation and those of another. In fact, the Roman Empire may be defined as a compulsory assemblage of polytheistic nations, in order that Christianity might operate over a large surface at once of that polytheism which it was to destroy and supersede. In the twenty-fifth year of the reign of Augustus, and while that prince was ruling with undisturbed sway over 100,000,000 of fellow-polytheists, there took place in that small monotheistic corner of his dominions which lay on the southern border of the Levant, an event, the importance of which the wisest of the Romans could not have foreseen. This was the birth, in an obscure Jewish town, of Jesus Christ. From that town, and from that obscure corner of the vast Roman Empire, was to proceed an influence which was to overspread the polytheistic nations, eat out or dissolve into itself all existing creeds and philosophies, and renovate the thoughts, the habits, the whole constitution of mankind. Waiting for this influence, the various nations—​Celts, Greeks, Spaniards, etc.,—​were submitted to the preliminary pressure of Roman institutions, modifying, and in some cases changing, their native characters. The eastern half of the Empire, however, had been too thoroughly impregnated with the Greek element to yield easily to the new pressure; and accordingly while the Latin language spread among the barbarians of the west, Greek still continued to be the language of the East. This demarcation between the western or Latin-speaking and the eastern or Greek-speaking portions of the Empire became exceedingly important afterwards.

Of this vast empire Rome was the metropolis, now a city of innumerable streets and buildings, and containing, it is calculated, a population of about two millions and a half. From Rome roads branched out in all directions leading to the other towns of Italy, and passing through the villa-studded estates of the rich Roman citizens. From the coasts of Italy, the Mediterranean afforded an easy access to the various provinces, by whose industry the metropolis and Italy itself were in a great measure supported. The provinces themselves were traversed by roads connecting town with town, and laying all parts of the Empire open to the civil and military functionaries of government. Usually residing at Rome, the will of the emperor vibrated through a hierarchy of intermediate functionaries, so as to be felt throughout the whole of his vast dominions. In effect, this will was absolute. In Augustus, as in Julius Cæsar, all the great offices of state, which had so long subsisted as mutual checks upon each other, were united, so as to confer on him power of the most unlimited description. The senate still met, but only as a judicial body in cases of treason, or legislatively to pass the decrees which Augustus had previously matured with a few private counselors; and the comitia were still held, but only to elect candidates already nominated by the emperor. In this system of absolute dominion in the hands of a single individual, the Romans cheerfully acquiesced, partly from experience of the superior nature of the government thus exercised to the wretched anarchy from which they had escaped, and partly in consequence of the hopelessness of revolt against a man who had the entire military force of the Empire at his disposal. In Rome and Italy, the public peace was preserved by the prætorian cohorts—​bodies of soldiers of tried valor, to whom Augustus gave double pay. Throughout the provinces, the people were kept in check by the regular troops, who were accumulated, however, principally in the frontier provinces of the Empire, where they might both maintain tranquillity among the recently-conquered populations, and resist the attacks of the barbarian races beyond. The provinces where military force was required, Augustus retained in his own hands, administering them through legates appointed by himself, usually for several years; the others he intrusted to the senate, who named governors for a single year.

The cities of the Empire were the centres of Roman influence. It was in them that the Roman citizens were congregated, that schools were established, and that the various agencies of civilization operated most uniformly. In the rustic populations of the provinces, the national individuality was preserved with the national language. It was part of the policy of Augustus to found cities in the choicest situations in the provinces; and so rapid was the spread of the Roman civilization during his reign, that Roman writers and orators of note began to be produced even in remote parts of the Empire. The Greek language and literature began also to penetrate the provinces of the west, and to find students among the Celts and Spaniards.

THE SUCCESS OF AUGUSTUS—​DISSEMINATION OF CHRISTIANITY—​DIVISION OF THE EMPIRE.

During a period of nearly three centuries after the death of Augustus, the Empire remained, so far as political arrangements were concerned, pretty nearly as he had left it; and the history of Rome during these centuries is little more than an account of the personal characters of the successive emperors. Some of these seem to have been specimens of the utmost depravity to which human nature could attain; others were men of great mind, and worthy of their station. At first, the Empire was inherited as a birthright by those who could claim descent from Augustus; but in the end, the real patrons of the sovereign dignity were the armies, and especially the prætorian cohorts. To raise favorite generals to the purple, and afterwards to murder them for the sake of the donations which it was customary to receive in the case of a new accession, became the pastime of the various armies; and sometimes it happened that there were several emperors at the same time, different armies throughout the Empire having each appointed one. The effect of these military appointments was to raise to the highest dignity of the state men born at a distance from Rome, and who, spending their lives in the camp, entertained no affection for the city of the Cæsars. Meanwhile, under all the emperors alike, the great family of nations incorporated under the Roman rule were daily advancing towards that condition out of which modern society was to arise. The reader, however, must imagine for himself the toil and bustle of the successive generations of Celts, Spaniards, Greeks, Africans, and Asiatics, who were born and buried during these three important centuries in which modern civilization was cradled; all that we can give here is a chronological list of the emperors during that period:—

Augustus,	from	30	B. C.	to 14	A. D.
Tiberius,	“	14	A. D.	to 37	“
Caligula,	“	38	“	41	“
Claudius,	“	41	“	54	“
Nero,	“	54	“	68	“
Galba, Otho, Vitellius,	“	68	“	70	“
Vespasian,	“	70	“	79	“
Titus,	“	79	“	81	“
Domitian,	“	81	“	96	“
Nerva,	“	96	“	98	“
Trajan,	“	98	“	117	“
Hadrian,	“	117	“	138	“
Antonius Pius,	“	138	“	161	“
Marcus Antoninus,	“	161	“	180	“
Commodus,	“	180	“	192	“
Pertinax,	“	193
Septimius Severus	“	193	“	211	“
Caracalla,	“	211	“	217	“
Heliogabalus,	“	218	“	222	“
Alexander Severus,	“	222	“	235	“
Julius Maximinus,	“	235	“	238	“
Gordian,	“	238	“	243	“
Philip,	“	243	“	249	“
Decius,	“	249	“	251	“
Gallus,	“	251	“	253	“
Valerian and Gallienus,	“	253	“	260	“
Gallienus,	“	261	“	268	“
Aurelius,	“	268	“	270	“
Aurelianus,	“	270	“	275	“
Tacitus,	“	275	“	276	“
Florian,	“	276
Probus,	“	276	“	282	“
Carus,	“	282	“	284	“
Diocletian & Maximian,	“	284	“	305	“

The only facts connected with the reigns of these emperors which need be noticed here are, that in the reign of Claudius, Britain was added to the Roman dominion; that under the great Trajan, the Empire was still farther extended; and that under Caracalla, the Roman franchise was extended to all the free inhabitants of the Empire. The vices of such emperors as Caligula, Nero, Commodus, Caracalla, and Heliogabalus, may pass unnoticed, as may also the military achievements of some of the later emperors. The reign of Diocletian, however (A. D. 248–305), constitutes an epoch in the history of the Empire. Finding the unwieldy mass too great for the administration of a single individual, he divided it between himself and his colleague Maximian, assigning to Maximian the western or Latin-speaking nations, and retaining the East in his own hands. Under each emperor there was to be a royal personage called Cæsar, who was to govern part of that emperor’s section of the Empire, and afterwards succeed him in the chief dignity. This arrangement did not last long; and after various subdivisions of the Empire, and struggles between emperors and Cæsars, the whole was reunited under Constantine the Great (A. D. 306–337). Under this remarkable man Christianity was established as the religion of the Empire.

During the three centuries which had elapsed between the crucifixion of Christ—​which took place in the nineteenth year of the reign of Tiberius—​and the accession of Constantine to the supreme government of the whole Empire, the new religion had been silently but surely spreading itself; first among the Jews, then among the Greek or eastern, and lastly among the Latin or western Gentiles. It had been subjected to numerous persecutions, some local, and others general, over the whole Empire; but had, nevertheless, made such progress, that it is calculated that in Constantine’s reign about a twentieth part of the whole population of the Empire were professed Christians, while even over the nineteen-twentieths who continued in polytheism, the indirect influence of Christianity had been immense. Led to embrace Christianity himself, although with a considerable tincture of polytheistic superstition, Constantine gave his imperial recognition to the already fully-organized ecclesiastical system of the Christians, with its churches, presbyters, bishops, metropolitans. The civil ban having thus been removed from the profession of Christianity, it began to prevail in form, as it already did in fact, over the heterogeneous polytheism of the Empire.

Another important act of Constantine’s reign, besides his proclamation of toleration for Christianity (A. D. 321), was his removal of the seat of empire from Rome to Constantinople. Not long after this was effected, Constantine died at the age of sixty, leaving the Empire divided among his three sons. One of them, Constantius, ultimately acquired the whole, and transmitted it to his successors; but in the year 395, Theodosius, one of these successors, effected a permanent separation between the East and the West. From that date, the history of Rome divides itself into two distinct histories—​that of the Western or Latin and that of the Eastern or Greek empire. The latter protracted its existence till A. D. 1453, when Constantinople was taken by the Turks: the former crumbled to pieces much earlier, before the attacks of the northern barbarians, who finally destroyed it in 476.

DOWNFALL OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE.

From an early period, the Empire had been assailed on its northern frontier by the German and Sclavonian races living east of the Rhine and north of the Danube. Partly by force, and partly by negotiation, the authorities of the Empire had been able to keep these barbarian populations in check; but towards the end of the fourth century, the growing decrepitude of the Empire tempted invasion, and hordes of barbarians from Scandinavia, Russia, and Tartary, rolled themselves toward the Danube. At first, it seemed as if the eastern empire would be the first to fall before them; but the tide of invasion was at length decisively diverted towards the west. Province after province was torn away by Goths, Alans, Huns, Vandals, and others: Italy itself was ravaged several times; and at length, A. D. 476, Romulus Augustus, the last sovereign, was dethroned, and Italy became a prey to the Germans. The various steps in this gradual disintegration of the Empire, the heroic deeds of the two chief agents in the dismemberment—​Alaric, king of the Goths, and Attila, king of the Huns—​and the gradual formation of Romano-Germanic kingdoms out of fragments of the shattered Roman society, cannot here be detailed.

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Under the title of the Middle Ages is comprehended that period of history which succeeded the destruction of the Roman western empire and extended to the end of the fifteenth or beginning of the sixteenth century, when learning was revived in Europe. This period of about eight hundred years may be said to divide ancient from modern times. The early portion of the middle ages is sometimes styled the Dark Ages; for during this time the ancient civilization of Rome, a bequest from Egypt and Greece, disappeared, and ancient institutions perished, without anything better being substituted. The middle ages altogether differ from any other period in history. They may be generally described as an era of universal disorder, in which was maintained a struggle between force and reason. Old governments were broken up, and new ones took their place, only to be dismembered in turn. Literature sunk into obscurity, and was confined to the cells of monks. Slavery was universal, and was modified alone by the benign influence of Christianity. Gradually, as it will be seen, nations assumed a settled character, arts were discovered, and for military turbulence were substituted peaceful institutions. Much, therefore, as there is to deplore in the history of the middle ages, there is not a little to commend and be grateful for. We must view these ages as being the cradle of modern civilization, the era whence sprung much that we venerate in our institutions, much that distinguishes modern from ancient manners.

THE EASTERN EMPIRE TO THE TWELFTH CENTURY.

It is necessary to begin a history of the middle ages with reference to the decline of the Roman Empire. This decline was caused by various circumstances, but chiefly by the weakened condition of society. Instead of rearing a respectable lower and middle class, the Roman aristocracy kept the mass of the people in slavery, so that at length society consisted of but a comparatively small number of privileged persons, including the military, and vast numbers of serfs or slaves—​the hangers-on of great men—​and in effect paupers. ‘The freedom of the ancient world expired in the course of ages,’ says Alison, ‘from the small number of those who enjoyed its benefits. The ruling citizens became corrupted from the influence of prosperity, or by the seduction of wealth; and no infusion of energy took place from the lower ranks to renovate their strength or supply their place.’ Besides this general, there was a special cause. In 321, Constantine transferred the imperial abode from Rome to Byzantium, a city situated on the Bosphorus, and afterwards called Constantinople. In his endeavors to make this city the seat of government, Constantine only partially succeeded; for it generally happened after his day that there was one emperor in the East and another in the West, and not unfrequently two or three different individuals in the provinces, at the head of considerable military forces, claiming partial and even universal empire. Rome itself, and the countries of western Europe, were soon taken posession of by barbarous intruders, and lost all the characteristics and individuality of empire; but Constantinople continued for a thousand years the abode of men who had still the name of emperors, reckoning themselves the descendants of the Cæsars, although they had long ceased to wield anything but the shadow of power. Constantine was himself instrumental in dismembering his empire, having before his death divided it among no fewer than five individuals—​namely, his three sons, Constantine, Constans, Constantius, and his two nephews, Dalmatius and Annipalianus, both of whom bore in addition the surname of Cæsar—​a name still popular among a people who wished themselves to be considered Roman.

Constantine II soon fell a sacrifice to the cruelty and ambition of his brother Constans, who in his turn lost his life in attempting to quell a revolt among his subjects; and Constantius, the youngest of the sons, having found means to destroy the two Cæsars, and five other cousins, and two uncles, found himself at an early period of life the undisputed master of the empire. He reigned twenty-four years, but left no monuments of goodness or of greatness, having wasted his time in the practice of vice, or in the equally unprofitable, if more innocent, employment of disputing with bishops on the abstrusest points of doctrinal theology; while a host of enemies, apparently from every side of his dominions, were engaged in undermining and laying waste the empire. It was in the West that these attacks were first made, though perhaps it was in the East that they were fiercest. Numberless and powerful barbarians now began to pour unceasingly upon Gaul, Spain, and latterly upon Italy itself, from the forests of the north, and in particular from those of Germany—​a country whose inhabitants have been remarkable in the history of the world, both as having originated many of the greatest movements in society, and as having laid open more of the sources of human thought than any people that could be named. The Franks, Saxons, Goths, and Alemanni, devastated the fine countries watered by the Rhine, and so effectually severed them from the Empire, that from this period their history becomes wholly separate. At the same time the Sarmatians, Persians, Scythians, and others, made dreadful incursions in the East. All that Constantius could do to stem this powerful tide was to raise his kinsman Julian, whom he surnamed Cæsar, to command in the army.

Julian had been early instructed in the Christian religion, but he is not known to have ever given it any credit, although he has been often called apostate. He had imbibed the philosophy of Plato in the schools of Athens; and with this learning, with the elements of a great character in his mind, and with the models of Cæsar, of Trajan, and of Marcus Antonius in his eye, he formed the design, and seemed to have the ability, to raise up and consolidate the glories of a falling Empire. His victories over the Alemanni in Gaul, although they preserved the Empire, excited only the envy of the emperor, and Constantius was about to depose him from his command, when his own death saved him from the ignominy to which the soldiery would certainly have subjected him for any attempt to degrade their favorite commander. Julian was himself declared emperor by the army, and the people had lost both the power and the will to resist. Unfortunately for his fame, Julian perished in battle with the Persians only three years after his accession. In that short period he had reformed many abuses in the state; and though personally hostile to the Christian religion, and though he used both arguments and ridicule against it, he not only advocated, but practiced universal toleration. It is creditable also to Julian, that in establishing the ancient orders of Roman priesthood, he was at pains to enforce a strict morality in all the relations of life. He was succeeded, after the fall of several candidates, by Valentinian, whose father had been a soldier from the Danube. This emperor took for colleague his brother Valens, to whom he assigned Constantinople and the government of the East. The reign of Valens was signalized by the irruption into Europe of an enemy till then unknown to the Romans; these were the Huns, a confederation of Tartar tribes, some of whom had obtained the ascendancy and control over the rest, and led them on to invade the nations of Europe. Their numbers and ferocity led the ancient writers to describe them in terms of consternation, which to moderns, who are no strangers to Calmucs, Cossacks, Tartars, and other tribes of similar origin, appear sufficiently ludicrous. They never lived in houses, slept under trees, ate raw flesh, and were altogether superior in war even to the Goths, who were now in alliance with the Romans, and had begun to relish the comforts of a settled life. They were, therefore, driven away before the Huns, and were forced, in search of a home, to invade the Roman territory. Here they were opposed by the Emperor Valens; but they defeated his army, and made his own life a sacrifice. He was succeeded by his nephew Gratian, who chose for his colleague Theodosius, a general of talents and celebrity. This emperor restored the confidence of his own army, and broke the power of the Goths, by his skill and caution; and was the first of the emperors who practiced the mode of dividing the barbarians against one another, by giving money to such of their tribes as he imagined would make useful auxiliaries. This system, which the wealth of the emperors (from their possession of all the maritime and trading cities) enabled them long to use against their poorer enemies, often saved the Empire at the expense of its dignity; for though the money was given at first as a gratuity, it was sometimes demanded in times of weakness as a tribute. This Theodosius (commonly called the Great) was the first who made Christianity the established religion of the Empire (390). He procured a senatorial edict in favor of the Christians and their religion, sanctioned the destruction of the heathen temples, and forbade the performance of sacrifices either in public or private. The Empire under this prince still preserved its original extent; but he divided it between his two sons, Arcadius and Honorius (394), and its parts were never afterwards reunited.

From the death of Theodosius II (449) to the reign of Justinian (527), the Eastern Empire continued without any considerable alteration, though there were many changes and intrigues in the court and army. The reign of the latter prince is memorable on several accounts: it was under his auspices that a knowledge of the silk manufacture was first brought to Europe, where it gave employment to much ingenious industry (900). Justinian also caused certain eminent lawyers to prepare a code of laws, and an abridgement of law decisions, etc. called the Pandects, which were used by all his successors, and have been adopted as the basis of their laws by several countries of Europe. With the single exception of the Code de Napoleon, these form the only complete and perfect abstract of national law which any government has given to its people. Whatever may have been Justinian’s errors in other respects, his having projected this work, and procured so many able ministers to execute it, must redound forever to his honor. The talents and virtues of his general Belisarius regained to the Empire Africa and a great part of Italy, from the Vandals and Ostrogoths; this conquest, however, only prevented the latter region from being united under one government, and has been the cause of its remaining a feeble and divided country ever since. In the reign of Tiberius shortly after (580), the people of Rome, though they entreated with great earnestness the aid and pity of the emperor, who now claimed to rule over them, were unable to obtain any relief, and remained distracted between their attachment to the ancient head of the Empire, and the claims of his enemies who occupied the rest of Italy.

The next emperor who merits attention is Heraclius (610), a native of Africa. The Eastern Empire had till now preserved its ancient boundaries in their full extent, and was mistress of Carthage, Egypt, Syria, and Asia Minor, besides Greece, and the countries on the Danube. The Roman armies on the eastern frontier had, however, been lately driven in by Chosroes, king of Persia, who now occupied all the north of Africa and Syria. This was the first great violation of their territory sustained by the emperors of Constantinople; and Heraclius avenged it with a celerity and effect which made the Persians tremble. His triumph, however, was short, for the latter part of his reign was disturbed by the rise and victories of Mohammed. The successors of this signal impostor, after breaking the power of Persia (already weakened by the victories of Heraclius), immediately attacked the Roman Empire; then defeated its armies in two battles, occupied all Syria, and obliged the emperor (now an old man) to retire to Constantinople. He died in 641.

The continued victories of the followers of Mohammed (called Arabs or Saracens) soon deprived the Empire of Egypt, Africa, and Syria; and in 668 they followed up their success by attacking Constantinople itself. The city sustained two sieges, in the first of which the Saracens were encamped in its neighborhood, and carried on the operations of a siege at intervals, for seven years; and in the second, for nearly two. In both the Saracens wasted immense resources ineffectually.

The Empire had now lost all its provinces eastward of Mount Taurus, and the cities of Alexandria, Jerusalem, and Antioch, were in the hands of the Mohammedans. There was little further change in its condition till the year 867, under the Emperor Basil, who gave new vigor both to the internal administration and to the military resources of the government. This prince, and his immediate predecessor Zimisces, made the Roman arms—​for they still wished to be called Romans—​respected on the Euphrates, and Tigris, and asserted the ancient warlike reputation and boundaries of the Empire. They were now, however, deprived of the resources they had enjoyed in the secure possession of the great commercial cities of the Mediterranean—​Alexandria, Carthage, Cæsarea, etc.; and the trade and revenues of those which remained were crippled and diminished, from the want of that free general intercourse which had existed when they were all under one government. Hence the armies were maintained with greater difficulty, and any victories that were gained could not be followed up with effect. The early enemies of the Empire—​the Goths, Vandals, and Huns—​had now settled into civilized communities, and were no longer formidable. The foes with whom it contended latterly were the Bulgarians and Seljukian Turks; the former of whom were rather troublesome than dangerous, but the latter, who had succeeded the Saracens in the dominion of Asia, aimed at nothing short of the destruction of the Roman name. They succeeded at last by defeating and taking prisoner the Emperor Romanus Diogenes, in tearing away almost the whole province of Asia Minor (1099); so that the emperors were now confined to the dominions in Europe, which, however, still formed a monarchy not much smaller than France or Spain.

The manners of the court of Constantinople during much of this period were dissolute and corrupt. We are told of one emperor who ordered a plate of human noses to be brought to his table; another was accustomed to seize the deputies of cities whose tribute was in arrear, and suspend them with their heads downwards over a slow fire; a third got up farces in mockery of the ceremonies of religion; and, in general, the appointment of officers, and even the succession to the Empire (where it was not seized by some successful general), were in the hands of the women and eunuchs of the palace. The cities and provinces generally acquiesced as to the choice of an emperor in the decision of the capital or army; this circumstance shows that the laws were attended to, and that there was a regular system of government, which were not much disturbed by the personal character of the reigning prince. The countries of Greece, however, which had formerly been the seat of knowledge and the arts, were now sunk in ignorance; and the little learning that was cultivated in Athens was only scholastic divinity, or the pedantry of law and grammar. There is no scholar, or philosopher, or poet, of the empire of Constantinople who is generally known to posterity.

A great change took place in the relations of the Empire after the eleventh century. It was still pressed by the Turks on the East, who now occupied Asia Minor, and were only separated from Constantinople by the Hellespont; while in Europe its territories were disturbed by the incursions of certain Norman adventurers who had settled in Sicily. Against these enemies the Emperor Claudius Comnenus, an active prince, and full of resources, made all the resistance which his diminished revenues allowed. He applied to the Christian sovereigns of Europe to aid him in expelling the Mohammedans from the territories of the Empire, but above all, to drive out the Turks from the land of Judea, which they occupied and profaned, and where they harassed the Christian pilgrims who desired to visit the scenes of Scripture history. His appeal was received in Europe at a time when many concurring causes had brought the mass of the people to a state of uneasiness which at once foreboded and rendered necessary some extensive change in their condition. Countrymen of their own, pilgrims from the shrine of the tomb of Chist, had returned and filled them with horror by a recital of indignities which Turkish infidels were casting on those scenes and subjects with which their own most sacred feelings were associated; and the result was that extraordinary outpouring of the inhabitants of Europe upon Asia, which has been termed the Crusades, and to which we shall afterwards advert.

ARABIA—​MOHAMMED—​EMPIRE OF THE SARACENS.

It was not before the sixth century that Arabia became peculiarly remarkable in the history of the world. The wild Arabs, as they have been generally called, had already signalized themselves by incursions on the Empire of the East, when Mohammed was born, in the year 569 (some say, 571) of the Christian era, at Mecca, the principal city of their country. He is said to have been descended from some great families; but it is certain that his immediate progenitors were poor, and he had little education but what his own means and his own mind could give him. Yet this man became the founder of a great empire, and the fabricator of a religion which has continued to our own day to affect greater numbers of mankind than Christianity itself. At an early period of life, we are told, ‘he retired to the desert, and pretended to hold conferences with the Angel Gabriel, who delivered to him, from time to time, portions of a sacred book or Koran, containing revelations of the will of the Supreme Being, and of the doctrines which he required his prophet (that is, Mohammed himself) to communicate to the world.’ The Mohammedan religion, as the so-called revelations of this great imposter have since been designated, was a strange mixture of the superstitions of Arabia, the morality of Christ, and the rites of Judaism. It was to this happy mixture of tenets, usages, and traditions already existing among his countrymen, and to the applicability of the precepts of the Koran to all legal transactions and all the business of life, that Mohammed seems to have owed his extraordinary success. Others, indeed, have attributed this to certain indulgences allowed in the Koran; but in reality these indulgences existed before, and the book breathes upon the whole an austere spirit. This extraordinary work inculcated elevated notions of the Divine nature and of moral duties: it taught that God’s will and power were constantly exerted towards the happiness of His creatures, and that the duty of man was to love his neighbors, assist the poor, protect the injured, to be humane to inferior animals, and to pray seven times a day. It taught that, to revive the impression of those laws which God had engraven originally in the hearts of men, He had sent his prophets upon earth—​Abraham, Moses, Jesus Christ, and Mohammed—​the last, the greatest, to whom all the world should owe its conversion to the true religion. By producing the Koran in detached parcels, Mohammed had it in his power to solve all objections by new revelations. It was only after he was well advanced in years that his doctrines began to be received. At first, indeed, they were so violently opposed by his fellow-citizens of Mecca, that the prophet was obliged to flee from the city to save his life. This event is called by his followers Hegira, or the Flight: it occurred in the 622d year of the Christian era; and they reckon dates from it as we do from the birth of Christ. Mohammed took refuge in the city of Medina, and by the aid of his disciples there, he was soon able to return to Mecca at the head of an armed force. This enabled him to subdue those who would not be convinced; and henceforward he proceeded to make proselytes and subjects together, till at length, being master of all Arabia and of Syria, his numerous followers saluted him king (627). This extraordinary man died suddenly, and in the midst of successes, at the age of sixty-one (632). Abubeker, his father-in-law and successor, united and published the books of the Koran, and continued and extended the empire which Mohammed had left him.

A more powerful caliph (such was the title given to this series of monarchs) was Omar, the successor of Abubeker (635). Barbarity, ferocity, and superstition seem to have been mingled and to have reached their height in the person of Omar. It was by his order that the most magnificent library of antiquity, that of Alexandria, consisting of 700,000 volumes, was burned to ashes. The reason which he gave for this act is worth preserving:—​‘If these writings,’ he said, ‘agree with the Koran, they are useless, and need not be preserved; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be destroyed.’ By himself and his generals this ferocious conqueror added Syria, Phœnicia, Mesopotamia, Chaldea, Egypt, Lybia, and Numidia, to his empire. Next came Otman, and then Ali, the son-in-law of Mohammed himself. The name of Ali is still revered by Mussulmans. His reign was short, but glorious. ‘After some internal troubles,’ says Hallam, ‘the Saracens won their way along the coast of Africa, as far as the pillars of Hercules, and a third province was irretrievably torn from the Greek empire. These Western conquests introduced them to fresh enemies, and ushered in more splendid successes. Encouraged by the disunion of the Visigoths [in Spain], and invited by treachery, Muza, the general of a master who sat beyond the opposite extremity of the Mediterranean Sea, passed over into Spain, and within about two years the name of Mohammed was invoked under the Pyrenees.’

Nineteen caliphs of the race of Omar succeeded Ali, and after these came the dynasty of the Abassydæ, descended by the male line from Mohammed. The second caliph of this race, named Almanzor, removed the seat of empire to Bagdad (762), and introduced learning and the culture of the sciences, which his successors continued to promote with zeal and liberality. This was some recompense for those indignities which had been cast upon literature by the brutal Omar. Perhaps the obligations of modern Europe to Arabia at this time have been overstated; but it is not to be denied that learning, almost totally excluded and extinct in Europe during the eight and ninth centuries, found an asylum here. It has been matter of dispute how the tastes of these fierce Arabians became thus first directed. They probably owed it to the Greeks; but it is certain that what they got they returned with interest. We are said to derive our present arithmetical figures from this strange people; and geometry, astronomy, and alchemy were their favorite pursuits. The graces of light literature were not neglected, as is shown by the One Thousand and One Nights’ Entertainments, a production of this period, which still continues to solace the hours of childhood and old age among ourselves, and attests the extent of fancy and the variety of genius among those that gave it birth. Haroun al Raschid, who flourished in the beginning of the ninth century, is celebrated as a second Augustus. He was cotemporary with Charlemagne, and communications of a friendly nature are said to have passed between them.

Within fifty years from the death of Mohammed, the Saracens had raised an empire, not only temporal, but also spiritual, more extensive and more powerful than what remained of the empire of Constantinople; and within a hundred, they had subdued not only Persia, Syria, Asia Minor, and Arabia, but also Egypt, North Africa, and Spain. It seemed, indeed, in the course of the eight century, as if Asia and Europe both should yield to their victorious arms, and become one great Mohammedan dominion. But the mighty fabric, of mushroom growth, crumbled into dust with equal speed. After the first extension of their conquests, they ceased to acknowledge any one head of their empire, and the successful generals of the provinces contented themselves by paying a religious respect to the caliphs of Bagdad, as the successors of the prophet, while they retained the power of conquerors for themselves. In the year 732 they sustained a great defeat in France from Charles Martel, who became the father of an illustrious race of kings. No fewer than 375,000 Saracens are said to have been left dead on the field of this battle, and it is certain that they never after cherished the hope of subduing Europe. About the middle of the ninth century (848), they projected the conquest of Italy, and even laid siege to Rome itself. But they were entirely repulsed by Pope Leo IV; their ships were dispersed by a storm, and their army cut to pieces. Spain was the only European country in which they were able to obtain a permanent footing, and in it alone have they left traces of their existence.

FROM THE DESTRUCTION OF ROME TO THE AGE OF CHARLEMAGNE—​ORIGIN OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM.

The Empire of the Cæsars fell in the West only by degrees, and the changes introduced by the northern tribes were gradual, though they proved great. Province after province yielded to the invaders; and before the end of the fifth century, every country in Europe had undergone extensive changes, and received fresh accessions to the number of its inhabitants. The Visigoths had seated themselves in Spain, the Franks in Gaul, the Saxons in the Roman provinces of South Britain, the Huns in Pannonia, and the Ostrogoths in Italy and the adjacent provinces. And not only had they been enabled to take up their abode, but in general they became masters, and changed the face of all that they touched: ‘new governments, laws, languages; new manners, customs, dresses; new names of men and of countries, prevailed; and an almost total change took place in the state of Europe.’ That change has been called a change from light to darkness, and it assuredly led to the extinction of that taste for literature and that regular administration of government which were the relieving features of the Roman despotism. But if it thus produced an immediate evil, it led to an ultimate good. The population was reinvigorated by the admixture of the new races, and from the fresh elements it had acquired there sprung institutions which might be considered as in many respects an improvement upon those that formerly prevailed.

It was out of these new circumstances that what has been called the Feudal System took its rise. This was a feature in society unknown in former ages. Hitherto men had been the slaves of individual masters, or, as in the more celebrated states of antiquity, they were bound together by the common tie of citizenship, and owed allegiance to none. Patriotism was their highest virtue, and all looked upon the state as a parent, to which, having got support from it, they were bound to give support in their turn. But in these times the rude inhabitants of the north had formed little or no conception of what a state was, and at first they were not prepared to relinquish their much-cherished individual freedom in exchange for rights which they thought they did not need. Changes at length came over them; and society gradually took new forms. Those who had led them on to battle, began to be looked upon as their guardians in peace. Victorious armies, cantoned out into the countries which they had seized, continued arranged under their officers, each of whom had a separate territory allotted to him, on which he could retain and support his immediate followers, while the principal leader had the largest; and in this way all were bound in allegiance, both to their immediate superiors and to their chief, and all were in readiness to be called out to arms whenever their services were thought to be required. This ‘military chieftainship,’ infusing itself as an element in the barbarian societies, was the first advance to anything like civil or social government since the extinction of the Roman power. Nations, indeed, were still far from having the advantage of a regular government. The method of conducting judicial proceedings, and of administering justice, was still peculiarly unsettled and uncertain. The authority of the magistrate was so limited, and the independence assumed by individuals so great, that they seldom admitted any umpire but the sword. It was then that trial by ordeal became universal, and men’s guilt or innocence was thought to be proved by the capacity of their bodies to withstand the influences of red-hot iron or boiling water applied to them, or by their overcoming their accuser in single combat.

These observations are applicable, with scarcely any variation, to all the nations which settled in Europe during the fifth and sixth centuries. Speaking of this subject, Dr. Robertson says—​‘Though the barbarous nations which framed it [the Feudal System], settled in their new territories at different times, came from different countries, spoke various languages, and were under the command of separate leaders, the feudal policy and laws were established, with little variation, in every kingdom of Europe. This amazing uniformity hath induced some authors to believe that all these nations, notwithstanding so many apparent circumstances of distinction, were originally the same people. But it may be ascribed, with greater probability, to the similar state of society and of manners to which they were accustomed in their native countries, and to the similar situation in which they found themselves on taking possession of their new domains.’ We shall now offer a few remarks respecting them individually.

No people at this period exhibited a more energetic character than the Franks, a Teutonic race originally settled on the Lower Rhine and Weser, and who had acquired their name (freemen) while successfully resisting the Roman power in an earlier age. About the year 486, they were under the rule of Clovis, who achieved the conquest of Gaul by the defeat of the Roman governor, and afterwards added Burgundy and Aquitaine to his dominions—​the former by marriage, and the latter by the forcible expulsion of the Visigoths. This may be considered as the foundation of the French monarchy. Clovis adopted the Christian faith, and caused his people to follow his example. It is remarkable that while in war he exercised unlimited power over his subjects, they shared with him the legislative authority, meeting annually in the Champs de Mars to suggest and deliberate upon public measures, in the settlement of which the meanest soldier had equally a voice with his sovereign.

At the death of Clovis in 511, his four sons divided the kingdom, which was afterwards reunited, divided again, and again united, amidst scenes of tumult and bloodshed. The line of kings proceeding from Clovis (called Merovignian from his grandsire Meroveus) dwindled in time into utter insignificance, while the chief power was wielded by an important officer, called the Mayor of the Palace. Among the most remarkable of these was Pepin Heristal, Duke of Austrasia, who ruled France for thirty years with great wisdom and good policy. His son, Charles Martel, who succeeded to his power, distinguish himself by that great victory over the Saracens (A. D. 732), which checked their career in Europe.

An appeal by Pepin le Bref, the son of Charles Martel, to the pope of Rome, whose authority had by this time become great, ruled that he who had the power should also have the title of king, and this put an end to the reign of the descendants of Clovis (752). Pepin remunerated the pope for this service by turning his arms against the Lombards in Italy, some of whose dominions he conferred upon the Holy See; and these, it is said, were the first of the temporal possessions of the church. Pepin died (768), leaving two sons, Carloman and Charles, who succeeded him in the empire. Carloman died at an early period of life, but Charles (subsequently Charlemagne) survived to achieve for himself a fame far greater than that of any other individual during the middle ages, with perhaps the single exception of Mohammed. We shall proceed to speak of him and of his times, after making one or two observations on some other European countries.

Spain was among the earliest countries lost to the Roman Empire. From about the year 406, this country, in whole or in part, had been successively invaded and subdued by Suevi, Alans, Vandals, and Visigoths. The last-named people were in possession of the greater part of the country before the year 585, and erected a monarchy which existed till 712, when they were subdued by the Saracens or Moors. The Saracens made their descent on Spain from Africa, where Nuza, a viceroy of the caliph of Bagdad, had already made extensive conquests. They easily overran Spain and vanquished Don Rodrigo, or Roderic, the last of the Gothic kings. Abdallah, son of Muza, married the widow of Roderic, and the two nations entered into union. Before the conclusion of the eighth century, Abdalrahman, one of the Moorish generals, had laid aside all temporal subjection to the caliph of Bagdad, and formed Spain into an independent kingdom. His residence was at Cordova, and this city became renowned as one of the most enlightened in Europe under several succeeding reigns. Those parts of Spain which were under the Moorish kings embraced also their religion. The northern provinces never owned their dominion.

Towards the conclusion of the sixth century, Italy was in the possession of the Longobeards, or Lombards, who continued master of the greater part of it for two centuries. Of their rule, history has recorded little besides murders and confusion.

It was during this period that the Saxon Heptarchy was formed in Britain.

CHARLEMAGNE—​THE NEW WESTERN EMPIRE.

By far the greatest character who appeared in Europe at this period was Charles, the son of Pepin le Bref, and known in history by the name of Charlemagne, or Charles the Great. ‘In the course of a reign of forty-five years,’ says Mr. Tytler, ‘Charlemagne extended the limits of his empire beyond the Danube, subdued Dacia, Dalmatia, and Istria, conquered and subjected all the barbarous tribes to the banks of the Vistula, made himself master of a great portion of Italy, and successfully encountered the arms of the Saracens, the Huns, the Bulgarians, and the Saxons. His war with the Saxons was of thirty years’ duration; and their final conquest was not achieved without an inhuman waste of blood. At the request of the pope, and to discharge the obligations of his father Pepin to the holy see, Charlemagne, though allied by marriage to Desiderius, king of the Lombards, dispossessed that prince of all his dominions, and put a final period to the Lombard dominion in Italy (774).

When Charlemagne made his first entry into Rome, he was crowned king of France and of the Lombards by Pope Adrian I; and afterwards, on a second visit, he was consecrated Emperor of the West by the hands of Pope Leo III (800). He probably attached some importance to these rites, but it is to be remarked that, as yet, the pontiff was not in the enjoyment of that high influence by which he afterwards could confer or withdraw sovereignty at his pleasure.

‘It is probable,’ continues the authority above quoted, ‘that had Charlemagne chosen Rome for his residence and seat of government, and at his death transmitted to his successor an undivided dominion, that great but fallen empire might have once more been restored to lustre and respect; but Charlemagne had no fixed capital, and he divided, even in his lifetime, his dominion among his children (806).’ Charlemagne died in the year 814, aged seventy-two. His last days were employed in consolidating, rather than extending, his empire, by the making of laws which have rendered his name famous, and his memory even blessed. ‘Though engaged in so many wars,’ says Dr. Russell, ‘Charlemagne was far from neglecting the arts of peace, the happiness of his subjects, or the cultivation of his own mind. Government, manners, religion, and letters, were his constant pursuits. He frequently convened the national assemblies for regulating the affairs both of church and state. In these assemblies he proposed such laws as he considered to be of public benefit, and allowed the same liberty to others; but of this liberty, indeed, it would have been difficult to deprive the French nobles, who had been accustomed, from the foundation of the monarchy, to share the legislation with their sovereign. His attention extended even to the most distant corners of his empire, and to all ranks of men. He manifested a particular regard for the common people, and studied their ease and advantage. The same love of mankind led him to repair and form public roads; to build bridges where necessary; to make rivers navigable for the purposes of commerce; and to project that grand canal which would have opened a communication between the German Ocean and the Black Sea, by uniting the Danube and the Rhine.’ Amidst all his greatness, his personal habits were simple; his dress was of the plainest sort, and such even as to shame his own courtiers; his hours of study set apart, and seldom omitted even in the busiest times of his life; his daughters were taught spinning and housewifery, and his sons trained by himself in all the accomplishments of the age. Charlemagne was fond of the company of learned men, and greatly encouraged their residence in his dominions. In this respect he resembled his cotemporary Haroun Raschid, so famous in Arabian history, and Alfred the Great, who appeared in England shortly after this period. Superior to all national prejudice, he elevated an Englishman named Alcuin to the head of his royal academy. He was zealous for the extension of Christianity; and one of the few blots upon his name arises from his having, in the spirit of his age, caused 4000 Saxon prisoners to be beheaded in one day, because they would not submit to be baptized. Charlemagne established schools in the cathedrals and principal abbeys, for the teaching of writing, arithmetic, grammar, logic, and music.

Of the sons of Charlemagne, Louis, the youngest, surnamed the Debonnaire, or gentle, was the only one who survived. He succeeded to all his father’s dominions, except Italy, which fell into the hands of Bernard, a grandson of Charlemagne. Louis, deficient in vigor of character, was unable to hold together the great empire left to him by his father. Having, among the first acts of his reign, given large portions of it to his children, the remainder of his life was spent in disgraceful quarrels with them; and after his death (840), the empire was formally divided—​Lothaire, his eldest son, obtaining Lorraine and Provence; while Charles the Bald, a younger son, continued sovereign of the western parts of France; and Louis became king of Germany. Thus abruptly terminates the history of the second western empire.

FRANCE FROM THE TIME OF CHARLES THE BALD TO THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

During the reign of Charles the Bald, France first suffered from the attacks of the Normans, a race of bold and needy adventurers from the north of Europe. Their plundering invasions were continued for upwards of seventy years; till at length (912) the French king was compelled to purchase their amity by yielding to Rollo their leader the country afterwards from them called Normandy, of which Rouen was the capital. The first successor of Charles the Bald with whose name history has associated anything worth remembering, was Charles, surnamed the Fat (885). He was the son of that Louis to whom Germany had been before assigned, and was thus enabled to bring that country and France for a short time once more under a single ruler. In the turbulence of the times Charles was soon deposed; and during the century which followed, France, so lately the centre of an empire little less than that of Rome in the days of its Cæsars, was split up into a multitude of independencies, by nobles who would own only a very slender subjection to the kings. Out of these nobles at last sprang Hugh Capet (987), who was enabled, on the death of Louis V, to place himself on the throne. He was already possessed of great property, and proved to be also a prince of much ability and penetration. He established the royal residence at Paris, which his predecessors had deserted, and became the founder of a family which, in one of its branches, occupied the throne of France till the overthrow of monarchy in 1848. He deserves to be mentioned with honor, as being among the first of European kings who trusted to prudence, counsel, and moderation, rather than force of arms, in effecting his purposes. On his death (996), in the fifty-seventh year of his age and the tenth of his reign, he was succeeded by his son Robert, who had all his father’s equitable disposition without his vigor of character. He was subjected to a degree of tyranny on the part of the church of which perhaps the history of the world does not afford such another example. Robert had been guilty of marrying a cousin in the fourth degree without a dispensation from the Holy See—​that is, without paying a fine for what was only an imaginary offense. Gregory V, who then occupied the pontifical chair, threatened to excommunicate Robert if he should not dismiss his wife, and, on Robert’s refusal, actually did so, and laid all his dominions under an interdict. This punishment proved tremendous in its effects; for though the king himself showed sense and courage enough to despise the wrath of the pontiff, yet his subjects deserted him in terror. The priests, in consequence of the interdict, refused sacrament to the sick all over the country, and the dead were everywhere left unburied, when mass was no longer said. In these circumstances the unfortunate king submitted. A second marriage, contracted with the consent of the church, proved very unhappy. The new queen, Constantia, or Constance, made many efforts to embroil her husband and his family, and in the midst of these Robert died (1031). His son Henry succeeded, and it was during his reign that those pilgrimages to the Holy Land, which were so soon to end in the Crusades, took their rise. Of these we shall speak by themselves. In the meantime we take leave of France by mentioning that Henry’s successor was Philip (1060), whose reign is remarkable as having witnessed the beginning of those contests with England which continued at intervals till the early part of the nineteenth century.

At this period (1066) the Normans invaded and conquered England, where their leader, William, Duke of Normandy, became the founder of an important dynasty.

THE GERMAN EMPIRE BEFORE THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

Germany had no political existence until the time of Charlemagne, when it was formed by him into part of the western empire. Towards the conclusion of the ninth century it became an empire of itself. In the year 887, Arnold, a natural son of Charloman, and nephew of Charles the Fat, was declared emperor by an assembly of bishops and nobles. These assemblies in Germany always retained a voice in the election of their emperors; and though they often made their choice from the line of succession, they never acknowledged any hereditary rights whatever. After the death of Arnold’s son, called Louis III, their choice fell upon Conrad, Duke of Franconia (912). Conrad’s successor was Henry I, surnamed the Fowler. He was a prince of great abilities, and introduced order and good government into the empire. ‘He united the grandees and curbed their usurpations; built, embellished, and fortified cities; and enforced with great rigor the execution of the laws in the repression of all enormities. He had been consecrated by his own bishops, and maintained no correspondence with the see of Rome. His son, Otho the Great, who succeeded him (938), united Italy to the Empire, and kept the popedom in complete subjection. He made Denmark tributary to the imperial crown, annexed the crown of Bohemia to his own dominions, and seemed to aim at a paramount authority over all the sovereigns of Europe.’

In these times the papacy was much disordered. ‘Formosus, twice excommunicated by Pope John VIII, had himself arrived at the triple crown. On his death, his rival, Pope Stephen VII, caused his body to be dug out of the grave, and after trial for his crimes, condemned it to be flung into the Tiber. The friends of Formosus fished up the corpse, and had interest to procure the deposition of Stephen, who was strangled in prison. A succeeding pope, Sergius III, again dug up the ill-fated carcase, and once more threw it into the river. Two infamous women, Marosia and Theodora, managed the popedom for many years, and filled the chair of St Peter with their own gallants or their adulterous offspring.’—​Tytler. It was amidst this confusion and these disturbances that Otho was induced to turn his arms on Italy. He shortly became master of it all, and had himself declared emperor by the Holy See, with all the pomp that had attended the same ceremony to Charlemagne (962). Pope John XII, whom Otho had been the means of raising to the pontifical chair, rebelled soon after. Otho returned to Rome in fury, had John deposed, hanged one-half of the senate before he left the city, and wrung a solemn acknowledgement from an assembly of reluctant bishops, that the emperor had a right not only to nominate to vacant bishoprics, but also to elect the pope himself. Otho died (972), and was followed in succession by Otho II, Otho III, St. Henry, Conrad II, and Henry III, the history of whose reigns exhibits nothing instructive, or upon which the mind can rest with pleasure. Henry IV (1056) was a distinguished victim of papal tyranny. The celebrated Hildebrand, known as Gregory VII, was in this age the means of raising the power of the church to a height which it had never reached before. During Henry’s contest with this daring and ambitious pontiff, he made him twice his prisoner, and twice did the thunders of the Vatican excommunicate and depose him in consequence. As a specimen of the power and insolence of this pope, we may mention that Henry, dispirited by the effect which his excommunication had upon his friends and followers, having resolved to go to Rome and ask absolution from Gregory in person, did so; and presenting himself as a humble penitent at the palace of St Peter, was there stripped of his robes, and obliged to remain in that condition, in an outer court, in the month of January (1077), barefooted, among snow, and fasting, for three successive days, before he was allowed to implore forgiveness for his offences! On the fourth day he was permitted to kiss the toe of his holiness, and then received absolution! Henry died in 1106.

FROM THE NINTH TO THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

Italy. The state of Italy during this period has been already partially noticed in the preceding section. From the time of Lothaire, to whom it was nominally assigned as a separate kingdom (843), to that of Otho the Great (964), the country was ravaged by contending tyrants. Between the invasions of the Normans on the one hand, and the claims of the German emperors on the other, it became much distracted, and was ultimately split up into several independent states. Some of these, particularly Venice, Genoa, Pisa, and Florence, became afterwards independent and powerful republics. It was during this period that the foundation of the temporal power of the popes was laid.

Spain. During the period of which we have been treating, Spain seemed less a part of Europe than any other country in it. The greater part of it still continued under the dominion of the Moors, and apparently with advantage. ‘This period,’ says Mr. Tytler, ‘from the middle of the eight to the middle of the tenth century, is a most brilliant era of Arabian magnificence. Whilst Haroun al Raschid made Bagdad illustrious by the splendor of the arts and sciences, the Moors of Cordova vied with their brethren of Asia in the same honorable pursuits, and were undoubtly at this period the most enlightened of the states in Europe. Under a series of able princes, they gained the highest reputation, both in arts and arms, of all the nations of the West.’ And yet these Eastern conquerors seem to have had their troubles as well as others. A race of powerful nobles among them, as in the other countries of Europe, distracted the country, and made effective government impossible. The Christian part of the population, still possessed of several provinces in the north, might have taken advantage of such a state of things for repossessing themselves of their lost country; but civil dissension was still greater among themselves; and Christian princes readily formed alliances with the Moors, if they saw a prospect of weakening an immediate enemy by that means, forgetting that the common foe still remained to harass them. But the detail of these numerous and petty contentions need not detain us longer; nor does the history of Spain assume any importance till towards the conclusion of the fifteenth century, when the united arms of Ferdinand and Isabella expelled the Moors for ever from the country.

GENERAL STATE OF EUROPE IN THE ELEVENTH CENTURY.

Before the end of the tenth century, Europe had reached a point of darkness and degradation beyond which it seemed impossible to go. Though long nominally converted to the Christian religion, the nations of Europe may be said to have scarcely exhibited, up to this period, a single distinctive mark of what men understand by Christian civilization. ‘The barbarous nations,’ says Dr. Robertson, ‘when converted to Christianity, changed the object, not the spirit of their religious worship. They endeavored to conciliate the favor of the true God by means not unlike to those which they had employed in order to appease their false deities. Instead of aspiring to sanctity and virtue, which alone can render men acceptable to the great Author of order and of excellence, they imagined that they satisfied every obligation of duty by a scrupulous observance of external ceremonies. Religion, according to their conception of it, comprehended nothing else; and the rites by which they persuaded themselves that they should gain the favor of Heaven, were of such a nature as might have been expected from the rude ideas of the ages which devised and introduced them. They were either so unmeaning as to be altogether unworthy of the Being to whose honor they were consecrated, or so absurd as to be a disgrace to reason and humanity. Charlemagne in France, and Alfred the Great in England, endeavored to dispel this darkness, and gave their subjects a slight glimpse of light and knowledge. But the ignorance of the age was too powerful for their efforts and institutions. The darkness returned, and settled over Europe more thick and heavy than before.’ The clergy were the only body of men among whom any knowledge or learning now remained; and this superiority they employed to continue, if not to deepen, the degradation into which society had fallen. The superstitious belief that moral crimes could be expiated by presents to the Deity, if not originated by them, at least found them its strenuous defenders, for the reason that a gift to God meant, in plainer language, a solatium to the church. The priests would have made men believe that avarice was the first attribute of the Deity, and that the saints made a traffic of their influence with Heaven. Hence Clovis is said to have jocularly remarked, that ‘though St. Martin served his friends very well, he also made them pay well for his trouble.’

Persons in the highest ranks and most exalted stations could neither read nor write. Of the clergy themselves, many of them did not understand the Breviary which it was their duty to recite; and some of them, it is asserted, could scarcely read it. Those among the laity who had to express their assent in writing, did so by a sign of the cross attached to the document (sometimes also by a seal); and to this day, in consequence, we speak of signing a document when we subscribe our names.

The evils of the feudal system, too, had by this time become excessive and insupportable. Every petty chief was a king in his own dominions, and his vassals were his subjects, if indeed they should not be called slaves. These barons made laws of their own, held courts of their own, coined money in their own names, and levied war at their own pleasure against their enemies; and these enemies were not unfrequently their kings. Indeed the kings of these times can be looked upon in no other light than as superior lords, receiving a nominal and empty homage for lands which, in the fictitious language of feudal law, were said to be held of the crown. In these circumstances, what might we expect to be the condition of the great body of the people? They were either actual slaves, or exposed to so many miseries, arising from pillage and oppression, that many of them made a voluntary surrender of their liberty in exchange for bread and protection from the feudal lords. There was no people, as that term is now understood. ‘There was nothing morally in common,’ says Guizot, ‘between the lord and the serfs; they formed part of his domains, and were his property; under which designation were comprised all the rights that we at present call rights of public sovereignty, as well as the privileges of private property; he having the right of giving laws, of imposing taxes, and of inflicting punishment, as well as that of disposing and selling. In fact, as between the lord and the laborers on his domain, there were no recognized laws, no guarantees, no society, at least so far as may be predicated of any state in which men are brought into contact.’ In what way society rose above so many accumulated evils, and light sprang from so much darkness, we shall now endeavor to show. The most remarkable and the most lasting influence, beyond all question, was that exerted by the Crusades.

THE CRUSADES.

‘It is natural to the human mind,’ says Dr. Robertson, ‘to view those places which have been distinguished by being the residence of any celebrated personage, or the scene of any great transaction, with some degree of delight and veneration. To this principle must be ascribed the superstitious devotion with which Christians, from the earliest ages of the church, were accustomed to visit that country which the Almighty had selected as the inheritance of his favorite people, and in which the Son of God had accomplished the redemption of mankind. As this distant pilgrimage could not be performed without considerable expense, fatigue, and danger, it appeared the more meritorious, and came to be considered as an expiation for almost every crime. An opinion which spread with rapidity over Europe about the close of the tenth and beginning of the eleventh century, and which gained universal credit, wonderfully augmented the number of credulous pilgrims, and increased the ardor with which they undertook this useless voyage. The thousand years mentioned by St. John [Rev. xx. 2, 3, 4] were supposed to be accomplished, and the end of the world to be at hand. A general consternation seized mankind; many relinquished their possessions, and, abandoning their friends and families, hurried with precipitation to the Holy Land, where they imagined that Christ would quickly appear to judge the world.

While Palestine continued subject to the caliphs, they had encouraged the resort of pilgrims to Jerusalem, and considered this as a beneficial species of commerce, which brought into their dominions gold and silver, and carried nothing out of them but relics and consecrated trinkets. But the Turks having conquered Syria about the middle of the eleventh century, pilgrims were exposed to outrages of every kind from these fierce barbarians. This change happening precisely at the juncture when the panic terror which I have mentioned rendered pilgrimages most frequent, filled Europe with alarm and indignation. Every person who returned from Palestine related the dangers he had encountered in visiting the holy city, and described with exaggeration the cruelty and vexations of the infidel Turks.

Among the most notorious of those who had returned with these accounts, was a monk known by the name of Peter the Hermit. By all accounts this individual seems to have been a weak-minded and contemptible being. He is represented as running from city to city, and from kingdom to kingdom, bareheaded, with naked arms and legs, and bearing aloft a ponderous crucifix in his hand, imploring and preaching with an enthusiastic madness on the necessity of wresting the Holy Land from the hands of the infidels. In a more enlightened age, Peter the Hermit would probably have been confined as a troublesome lunatic; in this, however, he was not only allowed to go on, but was encouraged and abetted in his career. The ambitious Hildebrande had expressed a strong desire to send armed forces from Europe to exterminate the Mohammedans from Palestine, in order that another country might be brought under his spiritual subjection; and Urban II, who at this time occupied the chair of St. Peter, warmly seconded the efforts of the enthusiastic monk. Nor was Peter’s success small. Vast multitudes proclaimed themselves ready to engage in the undertaking. Two great councils of the church, one of them held at Placentia, and the other at Clermont, in Auvergne, attended by prelates, princes, and immense multitudes of the common people, declared enthusiastically for the war (1095). The pope himself attended at the last, and Peter and he having both addressed the multitude, they all exclaimed, as if impelled by an immediate inspiration, ‘It is the will of God! it is the will of God!’ These words were thought so remarkable, that they were afterwards employed as the motto on the sacred standard, and came to be looked upon as the signal of battle and rendezvous in all the future exploits of the champions of the cross. Persons of all ranks now flew to arms with the utmost ardor. The remission of penance, the dispensation of those practices which superstition imposed or suspended at pleasure, the absolution of all sins, and the assurance, of eternal felicity, were the rewards held out by the church to all who joined the enterprise; and ‘to the more vulgar class,’ says Mr. Hallam, ‘were held out inducements which, though absorbed in the overruling fanaticism of the first Crusade, might be exceedingly efficacious when it began to flag. During the time that a Crusader bore the cross, he was free from suits for his debts, and the interest of them was entirely abolished; he was exempted, in some instances at least, from taxes, and placed under the protection of the church, so that he could not be impleaded in any civil court, except in criminal charges or questions relating to land.’

It was in the spring of the year 1096, that Peter set out for Judea, at the head of a promiscuous assemblage of 80,000 men, with sandals on his feet, a rope about his waist, and every other mark of monkish austerity. Soon after, a more numerous and better disciplined force of 200,000 followed, including some able and experienced leaders. Godfrey of Bouillon, Robert, Duke of Normandy (son of William the Conqueror of England), the Counts of Vermendois, Toulouse, and Blois, are a few of the more illustrious. The progress of this immense mass of human beings on their journey was marked by misery and famine. They had vainly trusted to Heaven for a supernatural supply of their wants, and in their disappointment they had plundered all that came in their way. ‘So many crimes and so much misery,’ says Mr. Hallam, ‘have seldom been accumulated in so short a space, as in the three years of the first expedition;’ and another historian says that a ‘fresh supply of German and Italian vagabonds,’ received on the way, were even guilty of pillaging the churches. It is certain that before the hermit reached Constantinople, the number of his forces had dwindled down to 20,000. Alexis Comnenus, then emperor of Constantinople, who had applied to the states of Europe for assistance, without much hope of obtaining it, in order that he might be enabled to resist a threatened attack by the Turks upon himself, was surprised and terrified at the motley group of adventurers who had now reached the shore of his dominions. He readily afforded them the means for transporting themselves across the Bosphorus, and performed the same friendly office to the larger force which followed under Godfrey and others; glad, apparently, to have the barbarians of the north, as his subjects called them, out of his dominions. The Sultan Solyman met the army of the hermit, if army it could be called, and cut the greater part of it to pieces on the plains of Nicea. The second host proved more successful. In spite of their want of discipline, their ignorance of the country, the scarcity of provisions, and the excess of fatigue, their zeal, their bravery, and their irresistible force, enabled them twice to overthrow old Solyman, to take his capital Nice, and after an obstinate resistance, the city of Antioch also (1098). At length (1099) they reached Jerusalem, much diminished in numbers, and broken in spirit; but with persevering assiduity they proceeded to lay siege to the city, and in six weeks they became its masters. Their cruel conduct to the inhabitants attests the barbarous feelings of their hearts. ‘Neither arms defended the valiant, nor submission the timorous; no age nor sex was spared; infants on the breast were pierced by the same blow with their mothers, who implored for mercy; even a multitude of ten thousand persons who surrendered themselves prisoners and who were promised quarters, were butchered in cold blood by these ferocious conquerers. The streets of Jerusalem were covered with dead bodies. The triumphant warriors, after every enemy was subdued and slaughtered, turned themselves, with sentiments of humiliation and contrition, towards the holy sepulchre. They threw aside their arms, still streaming with blood; they advanced with reclined bodies and naked feet and heads to that sacred monument; they sung anthems to Him who had purchased their salvation by His death and agony; and their devotion, enlivened by the presence of the place where He had suffered, so overcame their fury, that they dissolved in tears, and bore the appearance of every soft and tender sentiment. So inconsistent is human nature with itself, and so easily does the most effeminate superstition ally both with the most heroic courage and with the fiercest barbarity!’

With a becoming foresight, the Crusaders established a Christian kingdom in the heart of Palestine; and at the head of it, by universal consent was placed Godfrey, whose goodness and justice had signalized him, and gained him respect in the midst of the general wickedness. The pope, however, was too eager to enjoy the triumph to which he had looked forward, and sending an ignorant and obtruding ecclesiastic to assume this command, Godfrey retired; and thus was lost undoubtedly the best chance that Europeans ever had of really posessing the Holy Land. The Turks had now time to recover their strength and renew their attacks: they did so: many of the Crusaders had in the meantime returned home, and those of them who remained, surrounded and menaced by such foes, at last implored aid from Christendom. There the spirit which had been raised by Peter the Hermit was far from being extinguished; and another, more eloquent and more learned than Peter—​namely, St. Bernard—​had arisen to keep alive the flame of devotion. Roused by his preachings, Europe sent forth a second Crusade (1147). It consisted of 200,000 French, Germans, and English, in two divisions, the first led on by Conrad III of Germany, and the second by Louis VII of France. Strangely enough, both these leaders permitted themselves to be drawn into a snare by false guides, furnished by the Greek emperor; and both armies, one after another, were withdrawn amidst the rocks of Laodicea, and after being nearly starved by famine, they were cut to pieces by the Sultan of Iconium. This Crusade proved the most disastrous of them all. ‘Thousands of ruined families,’ says Russell, ‘exclaimed against St. Bernard for his deluding prophecies: he excused himself by the example of Moses, who, like him, he said, had promised to conduct the Israelites into a happy country, and yet saw the first generation perish in the desert.’

It was shortly after this period that the illustrious Saladin appeared (1180). Born among an obscure Turkish tribe, this individual fixed himself by his bravery and conduct on the throne of Egypt and began to extend his conquest in the East. The still existing, though wretchedly-supported kingdom of the Christians in Palestine, proving an obstacle to the progress of his arms, Saladin directed his power against it, and assisted by the treachery of the Count of Tripoli, he completely overcame the Christians in battle (1187). The holy city itself fell into his hands after a feeble resistance; and except some cities on the coast, nothing remained to the Christians of all that a century before, it cost Europe so much to acquire. The followers of the cross, however, were not yet wholly disheartened; and a third great Crusade was entered into before the end of the twelfth century.

The three greatest sovereigns of Europe—​Fredrick Barbarossa of Germany, Philip Augustus of France, and Richard Cœur de Lion of England—​all took part in the scheme. The forces of Fredrick were earliest in the field. He had passed through the unfriendly territories of the Greek empire, crossed the Hellespont, and defeated the infidels in several battles, before Richard or Philip had stirred from home. The Christians of the East were beginning to look with hope and pride on so great assistance; but they seemed fated to be unfortunate. Fredrick died (1190) from having thrown his body, heated by exertion, into the cold river of Cydnus; and his army, like the others that had gone before it, dwindled into nothing. The united armies of Richard and Philip followed. In their progress, the feelings of envy and national hatred rose above the object which had brought them together. Philip returned, disgusted or dismayed, shortly after they reached their destination; and Richard was thus left alone to uphold the glory of European arms. He did it nobly. With a mixed army of French, German, and English soldiers, amounting in all to 30,000, Richard performed feats of valor which have not been surpassed in the history of any time or nation. On the plains of Ascalon, a tremendous battle was fought with Saladin, and that brave and great man was defeated, and 40,000 of his soldiers are said to have been left dead upon the field of battle. But this conquest was unavailing, and the followers of Richard began to fear that there would be no end to their struggles. The zeal which had brought so many of them from their homes, and sustained them so long in absence, at last abated. Saladin readily concluded a treaty by which Christians might still be permitted to visit the tomb of Christ unmolested, and Richard left the Holy Land for ever. It is due to the memory of Saladin (who did not long survive this period) to state that, after he made himself master of Jerusalem, he never molested the Christians in their devotions—​a circumstance which, by contrast, reflects infinite disgrace on the cruel barbarities of the first Crusaders. In his last will he ordered alms to be distributed among the poor, without distinction of Jew, Christian, or Mohammedan; intending by this bequest to intimate that all men are brethren, and that when we would assist them, we ought not to inquire what they believe, but what they feel—​an admirable lesson to Christians, though from a Mohammedan. But the advantages in science, in moderation, and humanity, seem at this period to have been all on the side of the Saracens.

There were no more great Crusades. Considerable bands of private adventurers still continued to move eastward; but disaster and disgrace attended every effort, and Europe at last became disheartened when the bones of two millions of her sons lay whitened on the plains of Asia, and so little had been accomplished. Nevertheless, in the year 1202, Baldwin, Count of Flanders, was able to raise another considerable army for the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre; but having reached Constantinople at a time when there was a dispute in the succession to the throne, he readily laid aside the project of the Crusade, took part in the quarrel, and in the course of five months he was himself the emperor. The citizens of Venice in Italy, who had lent their vessels for this enterprise, shared in the triumphs of the piratical Crusaders: they obtained the Isle of Candia, or Crete. Baldwin, however, was soon driven from the throne, and murdered; though the Latins, as his successors from the West were called, kept possession of Constantinople for fifty-seven years.

At this period (1227) a great revolution took place in Asia. Ghenghis Khan, at the head of a body of Tartars, broke down from the north upon Persia and Syria, and massacred indiscriminately Turks, Jews, and Christians, who opposed them. The European settlements in Palestine must soon have yielded to these invaders, had not their fate been for a while retarded by the last attempt at a Crusade under Louis IX of France. This prince, summoned, as he believed, by Heaven, after four years’ preparation set out for the Holy Land with his queen, his three brothers, and all the knights of France (1248). His army began their enterprise, and we may say ended it also, by an unsuccessful attack on Egypt. The king went home, and reigned prosperously and wisely for thirteen years; but the same frenzy again taking possession of him, he embarked on a Crusade against the Moors in Africa, where his army was destroyed by a pestilence, and he himself became its victim (1270).

Before the end of the thirteenth century (1291) the Christians were driven out of all their Asiatic possessions. ‘The only common enterprise,’ says Robertson, ‘in which the European nations were engaged, and which they all undertook with equal ardor, remains a singular monument of human folly.’

INSTITUTION OF CHIVALRY, ETC.

Among the most remarkable institutions of the middle ages was that of Chivalry. The institution was certainly not the result of caprice, nor a source of unmixed extravagance, as it has been represented, but an effort of human nature to express its feelings of love, honor and benevolence, at a time when the spirit of liberty was extinguished, and religion had become debased. The feudal state was a state of perpetual war, rapine, and anarchy, during which the weak and unarmed were often exposed to injuries. Public protective law scarcely had an existence; and in these circumstances assistance came oftenest and most effectually from the arms of private friends. It was the same feeling of courage, united to a strong sense of duty, which both gave rise to chivalry, and led such multitudes to join the Crusades. Chivalry existed before them, and it survived them. Those whose devoted themselves to a life of chivalry were called knights, and sometimes knight-errants, in allusion to their habits of wandering from one country to another in search of helpless objects, which their generosity might find a pleasure in relieving and defending. Admission to the order of knighthood was long reckoned an honor of the highest sort: and to fulfill the vows which entrants took upon them might well be considered so. They were bound, ‘by God, by St. Michael, and St. George,’ to be loyal, brave, and hardy; to protect the innocent, to redress the injuries of the wronged; and, above all, to uphold and defend the characters of women. The institution of chivalry is sometimes thought to have thrown an air of ridiculousness upon everything connected with the softer sex, and some of the vagaries of knight-errantry gave sufficient countenance to such a supposition; but on the whole we are bound to rate its beneficial influences in elevating the female character high indeed, when we contrast the gross and groveling situation held by the sex in former times with the high and virtuous emotions that we have learned to associate in modern times with the name of woman. If the whole of this effect is not to be ascribed to chivalry, not a little of it must certainly be so; nor do its beneficial effects end here. The feelings of honor, courtesy, and humanity, which distinguished it, spread themselves into other parts of conduct. War, in particular, was conducted with less ferocity, and humanity came to be deemed as necessary to an accomplished soldier as courage. The idea of a gentleman is wholly the production of chivalry; and during the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, a sense of honor and a refinement of manners towards enemies sprung up, which have extended to modern times, and form a distinguishing feature of them.

The history of the Crusades has carried us over nearly two centuries of the history of Europe. But Europe might be said, almost without exaggeration, to have been then in Asia. It was certainly not the scene of any transaction of importance during all that period. The numerous quarrels, both public and private, which had before agitated the several countries, and had constituted all their history, gave way, by mutual consent, as well as by the orders of the church, to the one idea which then reigned supreme among them. Society was thus unconsciously the means of permitting some of those powerful and pacific principles to come into play, which were soon to give it a new destiny. The absence of so many great barons during the time of the Crusades, was a means of enabling the common people, who have hitherto lived as their slaves, to raise themselves in public standing and estimation; while the possessions of many of these barons, by sale or the death of their owners without heirs, reverted to the sovereigns. In this way the power of the people and of royalty advanced together, and both at the expense of the class of nobility. The people were not unwilling to exchange the mastery of inferiors for that of a superior; and the kings, on their part, looked on this rising power of the people with pleasure, as it offered a shield to protect them from the insolence of the nobles. In these circumstances boroughs began to flourish. This was a new element in the progress of civilization. Men who had hitherto skulked in castles, and had sacrificed their liberties and their lives for bread and protection from isolated chiefs, now found that, by a union among themselves, they might secure bread by industry, and protection and liberty by mutual aid. Multitudes, therefore, forsook their feudal subservience to enjoy independent citizenship. Villeins, or laborers, joyfully escaped, to take their place on a footing of equality with freemen; and sovereigns found means to pass a law that if a slave should take refuge, in any of the new cities, and be allowed to remain there unclaimed for a twelvemonth, he had thereby become free, and was henceforth a member of the community. Another improvement which kings were able to introduce about this time was the gradual abolition of minor courts of justice, which barons had previously held in their several domains, and their getting public and universal law administered by judges of their own appointment. Even single combat, the practice most inveterately adhered to of any among the ancient nobles, became less frequent and less honorable. The more revolting and absurd features of it were wholly abolished, though the great absurdity, and indeed the great crime itself, cannot be said to have become totally extinct, even up to our own day, when we recollect that the barbarous practice of duelling is still permitted to exist.

The effect, however, produced by the Crusades, which proved greatest in its consequences, though perhaps it was the most unlooked for at the time, was the rise of commerce. The first of these expeditions had journeyed to Constantinople by land; but the sufferings were so great, that all the rest were induced to go by sea. The Italian cities of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa, furnished the vessels which conveyed them; and the sums of money obtained by the freight of so many and so great armies were immense. This, however, was but a small part of what the Italian citizens gained by the expeditions to the Holy Land. The Crusaders contracted with them for military stores and provisions; and any of the Asiatic possessions of value, which came temporarily into the hands of the Christians, became emporiums of commerce for them. The sweet reward of labor was thus first felt for ages in Europe. New arts were brought from the East, and many of those natural productions of the warmer climates were first introduced into the West, which have since afforded the materials of a lucrative and extended commerce. We will allude in a separate section to the brilliant career of several of the Italian Republics.

In these views we represent the fairest side of the picture. There were yet many obstacles in the way of a complete and harmonious evolution of the principles of civilization. But the elements all seemed now to have acquired existence, and time only was required to consolidate and strengthen them.

FROM THE CRUSADES TO THE MIDDLE OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY—​RISE OF SOME NEW POWERS.

The most remarkable general feature of European society about the time of the Crusades was the papal influence. Between the pontiffs and the German emperors there was kept up a perpetual struggle for power; but for a long time the advantage was almost always with the popes. The treatment which some of the emperors received from them was extremely humiliating. Frederick Barbarossa was compelled to kiss the feet of his holiness, Alexander III, and to appease him by a large cession of territory, after having indignantly denied his supremacy, and refused the customary homage. Henry VI, while doing homage on his knees, had his imperial crown kicked off by Pope Celestinus, who, however, made some amends for this indignity by the gift of Naples and Sicily. Henry had expelled the Normans from these territories, which now became appendages of the German empire (1194). In the beginning of the thirteenth century, Pope Innocent III was imagined to have permanently established the powers of the Holy See, and its right to confer the imperial crown; but this proved far from being the case. In the time of Frederick II, who succeeded Otho IV (1212), the old contentions rose to more than the usual height, and two factions sprung up in Italy, known by the names of Guelphs and Ghibellines, the former maintaining the supremacy of the popes, and the latter that of the emperors. Frederick maintained the contest which now arose between himself and the popes with much spirit; but on his death (1250) the splendor of the empire was for a considerable time obscured. At length Rodolph of Hapsbourg, a Swiss baron, was elected emperor (1274). Rodolph became the founder of the House of Austria, and ruled with both vigor and moderation. His son Albert I was the means of causing the inhabitants of Switzerland to assert and obtain their liberty, by his attempting to bind them in subjection to one of his children, and then using force to compel them. In the pass of Morgarten, a small army of four or five hundred of these brave mountaineers defeated an immense host of Austrians (1315). Sixty pitched battles, it is said, were fought between the contending parties; but the spirit of William Tell, who appeared at this time, and of his patriot countrymen, rose above all attempts to enslave them; and the Swiss cantons secured a freedom which their descendants enjoy to this day. The further history of Germany, for nearly a century, is not politically important. Disputes between the emperors and the papacy still continued, though the balance of advantage was now oftener against the church.

About the beginning of the fifteenth century, the great papal schism, as it has been called, took place. It arose from there being no fewer than three different claimants for the chair of St. Peter—​Gregory XII, who was owned pope by the Italian states; Benedict XIII, by France; and Alexander V, a native of Candia, by a number of the cardinals. This schism proved very hurtful to the authority of the church, though in that respect it benefited the interests of society, and contributed to open men’s eyes. The appearance of John Huss at this time aided in producing that effect. Huss proclaimed the same opinions as the great English reformer Wickliffe. He was branded of course by the clergy as a heretic and propagator of sedition. The general council of the church, held at Constance (1414), concocted no fewer than thirty-nine articles in which Huss is said to have erred. Some of the points he denied having professed, and others he offered to support by argument; but his voice was drowned by the clamors of bigotry. His hair was cut in the form of a cross; upon his head was put a paper mitre, painted with the representation of three devils; and he was delivered over to the secular judge, who condemned both him and his writings to the flames. A similar fate shortly after befell his disciple, Jerome of Prague, who is said to have exhibited the eloquence of an apostle and the constancy of a martyr at the stake (1416). In revenge for these cruelties, the Hussites of Bohemia kept up a war with the empire for twenty years; and it was only after having their right to express their opinions acknowledged that they desisted. The great schism lasted for many years. A Neapolitan archbishop, named Bari, was elected and deposed by the resident cardinals at Rome within a few months. Boniface IX and Innocent VI were each temporarily his successors. The result of the lengthened dispute may be stated to be, that papal authority was greatly weakened; the government of the church was brought down among a class of ecclesiastics that had never before tasted the sweets of power; and future popes were obliged to resort to such questionable practices for the maintenance of their dignity, that men in general began to lose respect for their sanctity, and a foundation was laid for changes which it fell to the lot of Luther and others to effect.

The period which witnessed these transactions was remarkable for the continued wars between France and England. In the beginning of the twelfth century, the famous dispute for supremacy arose between Thomas-à-Becket, archbishop of Canterbury, and Henry II, which ended in the death of the prelate (1171), but in the triumph of his principles. The beginning of the thirteenth century is memorable in English history, as having witnessed the granting of the Magna Charta by King John; and towards the conclusion of it appeared Edward I, whose name is associated with the first great attempts to subdue the Scots on the part of England. The bravery of Wallace and of others averted that calamity for ever. Wales was not so fortunate; and Ireland had already become a conquered province.

During this period, several of those countries in the north of Europe, which have made a considerable figure in modern history, for the first time attracted attention. The greatest of these was Russia. In the middle of the thirteenth century, the tribes of Tartary made a complete conquest of this country, and for about a hundred years they maintained their supremacy. At length Ivan ascended the throne of Moscow (1462), and overcoming the Tartars, established a kingdom of his own, and was able to form an alliance with the Emperor Maximilian of Germany, who did not hesitate to style him brother. This was the first entrance of Russia into European politics.

Before the end of the fourteenth century, the Christian religion had penetrated into Denmark, Sweden, Prussia, and Poland; but it failed in producing any immediate beneficial effect. The political events which took place in these countries, however, were very various at this period, but proved too unimportant in their results to admit of being even outlined here.

THE ITALIAN REPUBLICS—​COMMERCE IN GENERAL.

Among the Italian cities, Venice, at the extremity of the Adriatic, Ravenna, at the south of the mouth of the Po, Genoa, at the foot of the Ligurian mountains, Pisa, towards the mouths of the Arno, Rome, Gaëta, Naples, Amalphi, and Bari, were either never conquered by the Lombards, or were in subjection too short a time to have lost many of their ancient habits and customs. In this way these cities naturally became the refuge of Roman civilization, at a time when other parts of Europe were wading through barbarian darkness. The feudal system never prevailed among them with any force; and several of these and other cities had important privileges conferred upon them by the German emperors at a very early period. Sismondi, the historian of Italy, asserts that Otho I (936) erected some of them into municipal communities, and permitted them the election of their own magistrates. It is certain that, in 991, the citizens of Milan rose in tumult, expelled an archbishop from their city, and were able to establish a qualified right to interfere in future elections. The after-history of Milan is eventful and tragical; but we can only give a short account of it here. In the middle of the twelfth century, Frederick Barbarossa became engaged with the cities of Lombardy, and particularly with it, in extensive and destructive wars. In the year 1162 Milan was finally overcome; the walls and houses were razed from their foundation, and the suffering inhabitants dispersed over other cities, obtaining sympathy in their distress, and communicating their enthusiastic love of freedom in return. The republican form of government was adopted in every considerable town; and before the end of the thirteenth century, there was a knowledge, a power, and an enterprise, among these apparently insignificant republics which all Europe could not match.

The beneficial though unlooked-for effect of the Crusades upon commerce has already been mentioned. During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the commerce of Europe was almost entirely in the hands of the Italians, more commonly known in those ages by the name of Lombards. The republic of Pisa was one of the first to make known to the world the riches and power which a small state might acquire by the aid of commerce and liberty. Pisa had astonished the shores of the Mediterranean by the number of vessels and galleys that sailed under her flag, by the succor she had given the Crusaders, by the fear she had inspired at Constantinople, and by the conquest of Sardinia and the Balearic Isles. Immediately preceding this period, those great structures which still delight the eye of the traveler—​the Dome, the Baptistry, the Leaning Tower, and the Campo Santo of Pisa had all been raised; and the great architects that spread over Europe in the thirteenth century, had mostly their education here. But unfortunately, the ruin of this glorious little republic was soon to be accomplished. A growing envy had subsisted between it and Genoa during the last two centuries, and a new war broke out in 1282. It is difficult to comprehend how two simple cities could put to sea two such prodigious fleets as those of Pisa and Genoa. Fleets of thirty, sixty-four, twenty-four, and one hundred and three galleys, were successively put to sea by Pisa, under the most skillful commanders; but on every occasion the Genoese were able to oppose them with superior fleets. In August, 1284, the Pisans were defeated in a naval engagement before the Isle of Meloria; thirty-five of their vessels were lost, five thousand persons perished in battle, and eleven thousand became prisoners of the Genoese. After a few further ineffectual struggles, Pisa lost its standing.

The greatest commercial, and altogether the most remarkable city of the Italian republics, was Venice. Secluded from the world, on a cluster of islands in the Adriatic, the inhabitants of this city had taken up their abode in the course of the fifth century, and they boasted themselves to have been independent of all the revolutions which Europe had been undergoing since the fall of the Roman Empire. This might be true to a great extent, though for long it was certainly more the result of their obscurity than their power. By the tenth century, however, the desendants of those fishermen that had first taken refuge here, were able to send fleets abroad which could encounter and overawe both Saracens and Normans. The Venetians had all along kept up a correspondence with Constantinople during the darkest periods of the middle ages. This was greatly renewed and extended about the time of the Crusades. When Constantinople was taken by the Latins (1204), the Venetians, under their doge, or chief magistrate, Henry Dandalo, became possessed of three-eighths of that great city and of the provinces, and Dandalo assumed the singularly accurate title of Duke of Three-Eighths of the Roman Empire. The Venetians greatly increased their share of the spoil by making advantageous purchases from the more needy of the Crusaders. Among the most important of these was the Isle of Candia, which they retained till the middle of the seventeenth century. The idea of a bank took its rise in this city, and an establishment of that nature, simply for the receipt of deposits, is said to have existed in it as soon as the year 1157. But it was not till about a century later that banking, as the term is now understood, began at all to be practised. The merchants of Lombardy and of the south of France began at that time to remit money by bills of exchange and to make profit upon loans. The Italian clergy who had benefices beyond the Alps, found the new method of transmitting money exceedingly convenient; and the system of exacting usury or interest, after experiencing every obstruction from ignorance and bigotry, became a legal part of commerce. In the thirteenth century the government of Venice was entirely republican; but continued wars with Genoa reduced both cities. These wars were all conducted on the seas, and the display of naval strength on both sides seems prodigious, when we reflect on the poor condition of Italy at the present day. Besides these wars for objects of ambition, there were continual jealousies which rose above enlightened views of self-interest, and led to the most disgraceful broils. At the middle of the fourteenth century a battle took place between the rival citizens, in which the Genoese were defeated. Their loss was immense, and in distress and in revenge they gave themselves up to John Visconti, Lord of Milan, then the richest and among the most ambitious of the petty tyrants of Italy, hoping that he would give them the means to reëstablish their fleet and continue the war with the Venetians. He did so, and in another naval engagement, fought in 1354, in the Gulf of Sapienza, the Venetians were entirely defeated. But the Genoese had sacrificed their liberty in their thirst for revenge. Visconti became their master instead of friend. Venice was able to rise above its temporary discomfiture, and during the fifteenth century its fame and power became greater than they had ever been before. In the beginning of the fifteenth century the Venetians captured the town of Padua, and gradually lost their empire of the sea while they acquired possessions on the continent.

Among the most famous of the Italian states at this period was Florence; and its fame was founded, not on arms, but on literature. Like the other Italian cities, however, it owed its first elevation to the commercial industry of its inhabitants. There was a curious division of the Florentine citizens, subsisting about the beginning of the thirteenth century, into companies or arts. These were at first twelve—​seven called the greater arts, and five the lesser; but the latter were gradually increased to fourteen. The seven greater arts were those of lawyers and notaries, of dealers in foreign cloth (called sometimes calimala), of bankers or moneychangers, of woolen-drapers, of physicians and druggists, or dealers in silk, and of furriers. The inferior arts were those of retailers of cloth, butchers, smiths, shoemakers, and builders. It was in the thirteenth century that Florence became a republic, and it maintained its independence for two hundred years. In the beginning of the fifteenth century it became peculiarly distinguished by the revival of Grecian literature and the cultivation of the fine arts. Cosmo de Medici, who lived a citizen of Florence at this time, and was known by the name of the Grand Duke of Tuscany—​descended from a long line of ancestors, whose wealth had been honorably acquired in the prosecution of the greater arts—​possessed more riches than any king in Europe, and laid out more money on works of learning, taste, and charity, than all the princes of his age. The same liberality and munificence distinguished his family for several generations.

The commercial success of the states of Italy induced the inhabitants of northern Europe to attempt similar enterprises. In the thirteenth century the seaports on the Baltic were trading with France and Britain, and with the Mediterranean. The commercial laws of Oleron and Wisbuy (on the Baltic) regulated for many ages the trade of Europe. To protect their trade from piracy, Lubec, Hamburg, and most of the northern seaports, joined in a confederacy, under certain general regulations, termed the League of the Hanse Towns; a union so beneficial in its nature, and so formidable in point of strength, as to have its alliance courted by the predominant powers of Europe. ‘For the trade of the Hanse Towns with the southern kingdoms, Bruges on the coast of Flanders was found a convenient entrepôt, and thither the Mediterranean merchants brought the commodities of India and the Levant, to exchange for the produce and manufactures of the north. The Flemings now began to encourage trade and manufactures, which thence spread to the Brabanters; but their growth being checked by the impolitic sovereigns of those provinces, they found a more favorable field in England, which was destined thence to derive the great source of its national opulence.’

THE TURKS—​FALL OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

We have already seen the weakness of the empire of Constantinople at the time of the Crusades; we have seen the city sacked and the government seized by the champions of the cross. The Greeks regained their empire in the year 1261, but in a mangled and impoverished condition. For nearly two centuries it continued in a similar state. Andronicus, son of Michael Palæologus, who had restored the Greek empire, allowed himself to be persuaded that as God was his protector, all military force was unnecessary; and the superstitious Greeks, regardless of danger, employed themselves in disputing about the transfiguration of Jesus Christ, when their unfortunate situation made it necessary that they should have been studying the art of war, and training themselves to military discipline.

In the meantime, the Turks had become a powerful people. They had embraced the Mohammedan religion long before the time of the Crusades, and proved powerful obstacles to the success of those expeditions. About the beginning of the fourteenth century they established an empire of their own in Asia Minor, under Othman or Ottoman, and to this day the Ottoman Empire is a name given to the dominions of their descendants. By degrees they encroached on the borders of the empire of Constantinople, and they were only prevented from subverting it at a much earlier period than they did, by being called upon to defend themselves from the arms of an Eastern conqueror who arose at this time. Tamerlane, otherwise called Timerbek, was a prince of the Usbek Tartars, and a descendant from Ghenghis Khan. After having overrun Persia, and a great part of India and Syria, this great conqueror was invited by some of the minor princes of Asia, who were suffering under the Ottoman tyranny, to come and protect them. Tamerlane was flattered by the request, and having brought a great army into Phrygia, he was there met by Bajazet, the Ottoman emperor, who readily gave battle, but was defeated and made prisoner (1402). Tamerlane made Samarcand the capital of his empire, and there received the homage of all the princes of the East. Illiterate himself, he was solicitous for the cultivation of literature and science in his dominions; and Samarcand became for a while the seat of learning, politeness, and the arts, but was destined to relapse after a short period into its ancient barbarism. The Turks, after the death of Tamerlane, resumed their purpose of destroying the empire of the East. The honor, or disgrace, as it may be thought, of effecting this, fell to the lot of Mohammed II, commonly surnamed the Great. At the early age of twenty-one, Mohammed projected this conquest. His countrymen had already passed into Europe; they had possessed themselves of the city of Adrianople, and indeed had left nothing of all the empire of the East to the Greeks but the city of Constantinople itself. The preparations made for defense were not such as became the descendants of Romans, and the powers of Europe now looked upon the East with the most supine indifference. The Turks assailed the city both on the land side and on that of the sea; and battering down its walls with their cannon, entered sword in hand, and massacred all who opposed them (1453). Mohammed, like many other ambitious conquerors, showed himself unwilling to destroy unnecessarily. The imperial edifices were preserved, and the churches were converted into mosques; the exercise of their religion was freely allowed to the Christians, and this privilege they have never been deprived of. Constantine (for that was the name of the last, as well as the first emperor of the East) was slain in battle. From the time that it was founded by Constantine the Great, the city had subsisted 1123 years. Mohammed liberally patronized the arts and sciences. He was himself not only a politician, but a scholar, and he invited both artists and men of letters to his capital from the kingdoms of Europe. But the taking of Constantinople had an effect contrary to his wishes: it dispersed the learned Greeks, or Greeks who were called learned, all over Europe; and this, among other things, may be looked upon as a help to the great revival of letters which the fifteenth century witnessed. The taking of Constantinople was followed by the conquest of Greece and Epirus; and Italy might probably have met with a similar fate, but for the fleet of the Venetians, who opposed the arms of Mohammed with considerable success, and even attacked him in Geece; but the contending powers soon after put an end to hostilities by a treaty. By this time Europe was trembling at Mohammed’s success, and was afraid, not without reason, that he might pursue his conquests westward. It was relieved from fear by his death, which took place in 1481. His descendants have continued to our own day to occupy one of the finest countries in Europe; and it was only in the present age that Greece was liberated from their dominion.

RISE OF CIVIL FREEDOM AND SOCIAL IMPROVEMENT.

Civil freedom, as we have seen, dawned first in the great commercial cities of Italy, whence it spread to Germany, Flanders, and Britain. This important change in society may be traced to the institution of free communities of traders, or guilds of merchants; and such confederacies were a necessary consequence of the usurpation and tyranny of the nobles and feudal possessors of the soil. In the eleventh and twelfth centuries the usurpations of the nobility became intolerable; they had reduced the great body of the people to a state of actual servitude. Nor was such oppression the portion of those alone who dwelt in the country, and were employed in cultivating the estates of their masters. Cities and villages found it necessary to hold of some great lord, on whom they might depend for protection, and became no less subject to his arbitrary jurisdiction. The inhabitants were deprived of those rights which, in social life, are deemed most natural and inalienable. They could not dispose of the effects which their own industry had acquired, either by a later will, or by any deed executed during their lives. Neither could they marry, nor carry on lawsuits, without the consent of their lord. But as soon as the cities of Italy began to turn their attention towards commerce, and to conceive some idea of the advantages which they might derive from it, they became impatient to shake off the yoke of their insolent lords, and to establish among themselves such a free and equal government as would render property and industry secure. The Italian cities were the first to emancipate themselves, and their example was followed in other great seats of population, the king of the country in general countenancing the establishment of free communities, in order to gain support against the encroachments of the overgrown power of the barons. The first community of this description formed in Scotland is understood to have been that of Berwick-upon-Tweed, which received its charter from William the Lion. Towns, upon acquiring the right of community, became so many little republics, governed by known and equal laws. The inhabitants being trained to arms, and being surrounded by walls, they soon began to hold the neighboring barons in contempt, and to withstand aggressions on their property and privileges. Another great good, of fully more importance, was produced. These free communities were speedily admitted, by their representatives, into the great council of the nation, whether distinguished by the name of a Parliament, a Diet, the Cortes, or the States-General. This is justly esteemed the greatest event in the history of mankind in modern times. Representatives from the English boroughs were first admitted into the great national council by the barons who took up arms against Henry III in the year 1265; being summoned to add to the greater popularity of their party, and to strengthen the barrier against the encroachments of regal power. Readers may draw their own conclusions from an event which ultimately had the effect of revolutionising the framework of society, and of rearing that great body of the people commonly styled ‘the middle class.’

The enfranchising of burghal communities led to the manumission of slaves. Hitherto the tillers of the ground, all the inferior classes of the country, were the bondsmen of the barons. The monarchs of France, in order to reduce the power of the nobles, set the example, by ordering (1315–1318) all serfs to be set at liberty on just and reasonable conditions. The edicts were carried into immediate execution within the royal domain. The example of their sovereigns, together with the expectation of considerable sums which they might raise by this expedient, led many of the nobles to set their dependents at liberty; and servitude was thus gradually abolished in almost every province of the kingdom. This beneficial practice similarly spread over the rest of Europe; and in England, as the spirit of liberty gained ground, the very name and idea of personal servitude, without any formal interposition of the legislature to prohibit it, was totally banished.

While society was assuming the semblance of the form it now bears, the progress of improvement was accelerated by various collateral circumstances, the first of which worth noticing was:

The Revival of Letters. The first restorers of learning in Europe were the Arabians, who, in the course of their Asiatic conquests, became acquainted with some of the ancient Greek authors, discovered their merits, and had them translated into Arabic, esteeming those principally which treated of mathematics, physics, and metaphysics. They disseminated their knowledge in the course of their conquests, and founded schools and colleges in all the countries which they subdued. The western kingdoms of Europe became first acquainted with the learning of the ancients through the medium of those Arabian translations. Charlemagne caused them to be retranslated into Latin; and, after the example of the caliphs, founded universities at Bonona, Pavia, Osnaburg, and Paris. Similar efforts were made in England by Alfred; and to him we owe the establishment, or at least the elevation, of the university of Oxford. The first efforts, however, at literary improvement were marred by the subtleties of scholastic divinity. Perhaps the greatest and wisest literary character of the middle ages was an English friar, named Roger Bacon. This extraordinary individual was not only learned, but, what was more uncommon in those times, he was scientific. Hallam asserts that he was acquainted with the nature of gunpowder, though he deemed it prudent to conceal his knowledge. He saw the insufficiency of school philosophy, and was the first to insist on experiment and the observation of nature as the fittest instruments by which to acquire knowledge. He reformed the calendar, and made discoveries in astronomy, optics, chemistry, medicine, and mechanics.

It is to Italy, however, that we owe the first and greatest exertions in the revival of letters. The spirit of liberty which had arisen among its republics was favorable to the cultivation of literature and accordingly we find that not only did they produce many individuals who were most active and successful in bringing to light the relics of classical lore, but that there also arose among them men possessed of the highest order of original genius. Florence produced Dante so early as 1265. Dante was associated with the magistracy of his native city in his earlier years; but having given dissatisfaction in that capacity, he was banished, and in his exile produced his great poem entitled the ‘Divine Comedy.’ It is a representation of the three supposed kingdoms of futurity—​Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise—​divided into one hundred cantos, and containing about 14,000 lines. The poem has been much praised. Petrarch, born in the year 1304, was likewise a Florentine by birth. The misfortunes of his father had impoverished the family, and Petrarch was too proud to take the usual method of retrieving his affairs. His genius, however, earned for him the friendship of many Italian princes, and even of more popes than one, although he had exerted his talents to expose the vices of their courts. Petrarch’s personal character seems to have exhibited some unamiable traits; but he has sung of love, friendship, glory, patriotism, and religion, in language of such sweetness and power as to have made him the admiration of every succeeding age. Boccaccio, like the two great poets named, was a Florentine. He was born in 1313, and his name has descended to posterity less associated with his poetry than the light, elegant, and easy prose of his novels.

The discovery of Justinian’s Laws, as detailed in the Pandects, was another event which powerfully tended to modify the barbarism that prevailed during the middle ages in Europe.

The invention of the Mariner’s Compass must be reckoned of still greater importance, and yet it is absolutely unknown to whom we owe it. That honor has been often bestowed on Gioia, a citizen of Amalphi, who lived about the commencement of the fourteenth century. But the polarity of the magnet at least was known to the Saracens two hundred years before that time; though even after the time of Gioia, it was long before the magnet was made use of as a guide in navigation. ‘It is a singular circumstance,’ says Mr. Hallam, ‘and only to be explained by the obstinacy with which men are apt to reject improvement, that the magnetic needle was not generally adopted in navigation till very long after the discovery of its properties, and even after their peculiar importance had been perceived. The writers of the thirteenth century, who mentioned the polarity of the needle, mention also its use in navigation; yet Campany has found no distinct proof of its employment till 1403, and does not believe that it was frequently on board Mediterranean ships at the latter part of the preceding age.’ The Genoese, however, are known in the fourteenth century to have come out of that inland sea, and steered for Flanders and England. But by far the greatest sailors of the age were the Spaniards and Portuguese. This latter nation had little or no existence during the greater part of the middle ages, but in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, they were able to expel the Moors from a great part of their country; and in the beginning of the fifteenth, John, surnamed the Bastard, who was then their king, was the first European prince who exhibited a respectable navy. It was in 1486 that this adventurous people first doubled the Cape of Good Hope.

The discovery of America (1493) may be mentioned supplementarily to the invention of the mariner’s compass, as an event which, without it, could never have taken place. The immortal honor of that discovery rests with Christopher Columbus, a sailor of Genoa. After unsuccessful applications at almost every court in Europe, and braving obloquy and contempt, Columbus at last obtained a miserable force from Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain; and with no landmark but the heavens, nor any guide but his compass, he launched boldly into the sea, and at last conducted Europeans to the great western hemisphere.

In the course of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth centuries, various discoveries in the arts were made, which powerfully tended to the advancement of society; among these the more important were the invention of gunpowder and firearms, clocks and watches, paper-making and printing. This last, the greatest of all, prepared the way for the Reformation in religion, in the sixteenth century, by which religious was added to civil freedom, and a great spur given to individual activity.

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CONQUEST BY THE ROMANS.

Previously to the year 55 before Christ, the British Islands, in common with the whole of northern and western Europe, were occupied by barbarous tribes, who bore nearly the same relation to the civilized nations of Greece and Italy, which the North American Indians of the present day bear to the inhabitants of Great Britain and the United States. The Romans, who for ages had been extending their power over their rude neighbors, had concluded the conquest of Gaul, now called France, when, in the year just mentioned, their celebrated commander, Julius Cæsar, learning from the merchants of that country that there was another fertile land on the opposite side of the narrow sea now termed the British Channel, resolved to proceed thither, and subject it also to the Roman arms. Disembarking at the place since called Deal, he soon overawed the savage natives, though they were naturally warlike, and averse to a foreign yoke. He did not, however, gain a firm footing in Britain till the succeeding year, when he employed no fewer than 800 vessels to convey his troops from Gaul. Except along the coasts, where some tillage prevailed, the British tribes lived exactly as the Indians now do, upon animals caught in hunting, and fruits which grew spontaneously. They stained and tattooed their bodies, and had no religion but a bloody idolatry called Druidism. The people of Ireland were in much the same condition.

Little was done on this occasion to establish the Roman power in Britain; but about a century afterwards—​namely, in the year of Christ 43, when the emperor Claudius was reigning at Rome—​another large army invaded the island, and reduced a considerable part of it. A British prince called Caradoc, or Caractacus, who had made a noble defense against their arms, was finally taken and sent prisoner to Rome, where he was regarded with the same wonder as we should bestow upon a North American chief who had greatly obstructed the progress of settlements in this quarter of the world. In the year 61, an officer named Suetonius did much to reduce the Britons, by destroying the numerous Druidical temples in the Isle of Anglesea; religion having in this case, as in many others since, been a great support to the patriotic cause. He soon after overthrew the celebrated British princess Boadicéa, who had raised an almost general insurrection against the Roman power.

In the year 79, Agricola, a still greater general, extended the influence of Rome to the Firths of Forth and Clyde, which he formed into a frontier, by connecting them with a chain of forts. It was his policy, after he had subdued part of the country, to render it permanently attached to Rome, by introducing the pleasures and luxuries of the Capital. He was the first to sail round the island. In the year 84, having gone beyond the Forth, he was opposed by a great concourse of the rude inhabitants of the north, under a chief name Galgacus, whom he completely overthrew at Mons Grampius, or the Grampian Mountain; a spot about which there are many disputes, but which was probably at Ardoch in Perthshire, where there are still magnificent remains of a Roman camp. Tacitus, a writer related to Agricola, gives a very impressive account of this great conflict, and exhibits the bravery of the native forces as very remarkable; but the correctness of his details cannot be much relied on.

It appears that Agricola, while on the western coast of Scotland, was desirous of making the conquest of Ireland, which he thought would be useful, both as a medium of communication with Spain, and as a position whence he could overawe Britain. He formed an acquaintance with an Irish chief, who, having been driven from his country by civil commotions, was ready to join in invading it. By him Agricola was informed that the island might be conquered by one legion and a few auxiliaries. The inhabitants, according to Tacitus, bore a close resemblance to the Britons.

It is generally allowed that the Romans experienced an unusual degree of difficulty in subduing the Britons; and it is certain that they were baffled in all their attempts upon the northern part of Scotland, which was then called Caledonia. The utmost they could do with the inhabitants of that country, was to build walls across the island to keep them by themselves. The first wall was built in the year 121, by the Emperor Hadrian, between Newcastle and the Solway Firth. The second was built by the Emperor Antoninus, about the year 140, as a connection of the line of forts which Agricola had formed between the Firths of Forth and Clyde. This boundary was not long kept, for in 210 we find the Emperor Severus fortifying the rampart between the Tyne and Solway. Roman armies, however, probably under the command of Lollius Urbicus, had penetrated far beyond the more northerly wall, although, unfortunately, no accounts of their reception are preserved. From comparing Roman remains lately discovered with ancient geographies, it is held as established that the Romans reached the north-east end of Loch Ness, near the modern town of Inverness. The number of roads and camps which they made, and the regularity with which the country was divided into stations, prove their desire to preserve these conquests. When the conquest was thus so far completed, the country was governed in the usual manner of a Roman province; and towns began to rise in the course of time—​being generally those whose names are found to end in chester, a termination derived from castra, the Latin word for camp. The Christian religion was also introduced, and Roman literature made some progress in the country.

CONQUEST BY THE SAXONS.

At length a time came when the Romans could no longer defend their own native country against the nations in the north of Europe. The soldiers were then withdrawn from Britain (about the year 440), and the people left to govern themselves. The Caledonians, who did not like to be so much straitened in the north, took advantage of the unprotected state of the Britons to pour in upon them from the other side of the wall, and despoil them of their lives and goods. The British had no resource but to call in another set of protectors, the Saxons, a warlike people who lived in the north of Germany, and the Jutes and Angles, who inhabited Denmark. The remedy was found hardly any better than the disease. Having once acquired a footing in the island, these hardy strangers proceeded to make it a subject of conquest, as the Romans had done before, with this material difference, that they drove the British to the western parts of the island, particularly into Wales, and settled, with new hordes of their countrymen, over the better part of the land. So completely was the population changed, that, excepting in the names of some of the hills and rivers, the British language was extinguished, and even the name of the country itself was changed, from what it originally was to Angle-land or England, a term taken from the Angles. The conquest required about two hundred and fifty years to be effected, and, like that of the Romans, it extended no farther north than the Firths of Forth and Clyde. Before the Britons were finally cooped up in Wales, many battles were fought; but few of these are accurately recorded. The most distinguished of the British generals were the Princes Vortimer and Aurelius Ambrosius. It is probably on the achievements of the latter that the well-known fables of King Arthur and his knights are founded.

England, exclusive of the western regions, was now divided into seven kingdoms, called Kent, Northumberland, East Anglia, Mercia, Essex, Sussex, and Wessex, each of which was governed by a race descended from the leader who had first subdued it; and the whole have since been called by historians the Saxon Heptarchy, the latter word being composed of two Greek words, signifying seven kingdoms. To the north of the Forth dwelt a nation called the Picts, who also had a king, and were in all probability the people with whom Agricola had fought under the name of Caledonians. In the Western Highlands there was another nation, known by the name of the Scots, or Dalriads, who had gradually migrated thither from Ireland, between the middle of the third century and the year 503, when they established, under a chief named Fergus, a monarchy destined in time to absorb all the rest. About the year 700 there were no fewer than fifteen kings, or chiefs, within the island, while Ireland was nearly in the same situation. In Britain, at the same time, five languages were in use, the Latin, Saxon, Welsh, the Pictish, and the Irish. The general power of the country has been found to increase as these nations and principalities were gradually amassed together.

Although three of the Saxon kingdoms, Wessex, Mercia, and Northumberland, became predominant, the Heptarchy prevailed from about the year 585 to 800, when Egbert, king of Wessex, acquired a paramount influence over all the other states, though their kings still continued to reign. Alfred, so celebrated for his virtues, was the grandson of Egbert, and began to reign in the year 871. At this time the Danes, who are now a quiet, inoffensive people, were a nation of pirates, and at the same time heathens. They used to come in large fleets, and commit dreadful ravages on the shores of Britain. For some time they completely overturned the sovereignty of Alfred, and compelled him to live in obscurity in the centre of a marsh. But he at length fell upon them when they thought themselves in no danger, and regained the greater part of his kingdom. Alfred spent the rest of his life in literary study, of which he was very fond, and in forming laws and regulations for the good of his people. He was perhaps the most able, most virtuous, and most popular prince that ever reigned in Britain; and all this is the more surprising, when we find that his predecessors and successors, for many ages, were extremely cruel and ignorant. He died in the year 901, in the fifty-third year of his age.

CONQUEST BY THE NORMANS.

The Saxon line of princes continued to rule, with the exception of three Danish reigns, till the year 1066, when the crown was in the possession of a usurper named Harold. The country was then invaded by William, Duke of Normandy, a man of illegitimate birth, attended by a large and powerful army. Harold opposed him at Hastings (October 14), and after a well-contested battle, his army was defeated, and himself slain. William then caused himself to be crowned king at Westminster; and in the course of a few years he succeeded, by means of his warlike Norman followers, in completely subduing the Saxons. His chiefs were settled upon the lands of those who opposed him, and became the ancestors of most of the present noble families of England.

Previously to this period, the Church of Rome, which was the only surviving part of the power of that empire, had established its supremacy over England. The land was also subjected to what is called the feudal system (see History of the Middle Ages), by which all proprietors of land were supposed to hold it from the king for military service, while the tenants were understood to owe them military service in turn for their use of the land. All orders of men were thus kept in a chain of servile obedience, while some of the lower orders were actually slaves to their superiors.

In the year 853, Kenneth, king of the Scots, had added the Pictish kingdom to his own, and his descendant Malcolm II, in 1020, extended his dominions over not only the south of Scotland, but a part of the north of England. Thus, putting aside Wales, which continued to be an independent country, under its own princes, the island was divided, at the time of the Norman Conquest, into two considerable kingdoms, England and Scotland, as they were for some centuries afterwards. Ireland, which had also been invaded by hordes from the north of Europe, was divided into a number of small kingdoms, like England under the Saxon Heptarchy.

EARLY NORMAN KINGS.

William, surnamed The Conqueror, reigned from 1066 to 1087, being chiefly engaged all that time in completing the subjugation of the Saxons. He is allowed to have been a man of much sagacity, and a firm ruler; but his temper was violent, and his disposition brutal. At the time of his death, which took place in Normandy, his eldest son Robert happening to be at a greater distance from London than William, who was the second son, the latter individual seized upon the crown, of which he could not afterwards be dispossessed, till he was shot accidentally by an arrow in the New Forest, in the year 1100. Towards the close of this king’s reign, the whole of Christian Europe was agitated by the first Crusade—​an expedition for the recovery of the Holy Land from the Saracens. Robert of Normandy had a high command in this enterprise, and gained much fame as a warrior; but while he was in Italy, on his return, his youngest brother Henry usurped the throne left vacant by William, so that he was again disappointed of his birthright. Henry I—​surnamed Beauclerc, from his being a fine scholar—​was a prince of some ability; but he disgraced himself by putting out the eyes of his eldest brother, and keeping him nearly thirty years in confinement. Such barbarous conduct shows that in this age might was the only right, and that men hesitated at no actions which might promise to advance their own interests.

Cotemporary with William the Conqueror in England, was Malcolm III in Scotland, surnamed Canmore, from his having a large head. This prince, after overthrowing the celebrated usurper Macbeth, married Margaret, a fugitive Saxon princess, through whom his posterity became the heirs of that race of English sovereigns. He was a good prince, and by settling Saxon refugees upon his lowland territory, did much to improve the character of the Scottish nation, who are described as having been before this time a nation in which there was no admixture of civilization. At Malcolm’s death, in 1093, the crown was contested for a while by a usurper called Donald Bane, and the elder sons of the late monarch, but finally fell to the peaceable possession of his youngest son David I, who was a prince of much superior character, apparently, to the Norman sovereigns who lived in the same age. The church of Rome having now gained an ascendancy in Scotland, David founded a considerable number of monasteries and churches for the reception of the ministers of that religion. All the most celebrated abbacies in Scotland took their rise in his time.

Henry Beauclerc of England, in order to strengthen his claim by a Saxon alliance, married Maud, the daughter of Malcolm Canmore and of Princess Margaret. By her he had an only daughter of the same name, whom he married first to the Emperor of Germany, and then to Geoffrey Plantagenet, eldest son of the Earl of Anjou, in France. This lady and her children by Plantagenet were properly the heirs of the English crown; but on the death of Henry, in 1135, it was seized by a usurper named Stephen, a distant member of the Conqueror’s family, who reigned for nineteen years, during which the country was rendered almost desolate by civil contests, in which David of Scotland occasionally joined.

On the death of Stephen, in 1154, the crown fell peacefully to Henry II, who was the eldest son of Maud, and the first of the Plantagenet race of sovereigns. Henry was an acute and politic prince, though not in any respect more amiable than his predecessors. His reign was principally marked by a series of measures for reducing the power of the Romish clergy, in the course of which some of his courtiers, in 1171 thought they could not do him a better service than to murder Thomas-à-Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had been the chief obstacle to his views, and was one of the ablest and most ambitious men ever produced in England. For his concern in this foul transaction, Henry had to perform a humiliating penance, receiving eighty lashes on his bare back from the monks of Canterbury. We are the less inclined to wonder at this circumstance, when we consider that about this time the Pope had power to cause two kings to perform the menial service of leading his horse.

Henry was the most powerful king that had yet reigned in Britain. Besides the great hereditary domains which he possessed in France, and for which he did homage to the king of that country, he exacted a temporary homage from William of Scotland, the grand-son of David, a monarch of great valor, who took the surname of the Lion, and who reigned from 1166 to 1214. Henry also added Ireland to his domininions. This island had previously been divided into five kingdoms—​Munster, Leinster, Meath, Ulster, and Connaught. The people, being quite uncivilized, were perpetually quarreling among themselves; and this, with their heathen religion, furnished a flimsy pretext for invading them from England. Dermot Macmorrough, king of Leinster, having been dethroned by his subjects, introduced an English warrior, Richard, Earl of Strigul, generally called Strongbow, for the purpose of regaining his possessions. A body composed of 50 knights, 90 esquires, and 460 archers, in all 600 men, was enabled by its superior discipline to overthrow the whole warlike force that could be brought against them; and the conquest was easily completed by Henry in person, who went thither in 1172. The military leaders were left to rule over the country; but they managed their trust so ill, that the Irish never became peaceable and improving subjects of the Norman king, as the English had gradually done.

RICHARD CŒUR DE LION—​JOHN—​MAGNA CHARTA.

Henry II was much troubled in his latter years by the disobedience of his children. At his death, in 1189, he was succeeded by his son Richard, styled Cœur de Lion, or the Lion-hearted, from his head strong courage, and who was much liked by his subjects on that account, though it does not appear that he possessed any other good qualities. At the coronation of Richard, the people were permitted to massacre many thousands of unoffending Jews throughout the kingdom. Almost immediately after his accession, he joined the king of France in a second Crusade; landed in Palestine (1191) and fought with prodigious valor, but with no good result. On one occasion, being offended at a breach of truce by his opponent Saladin, he beheaded 5000 prisoners; whose deaths were immediately revenged by a similar massacre of Christian prisoners. In 1192, he returned with a small remnant of his gallant army, and being shipwrecked at Aquileia, wandered in disguise into the dominions of his mortal enemy the Duke of Austria, who, with the Emperor of Germany, detained him till he was redeemed by a ransom, which impoverished nearly the whole of his subjects. This prince spent the rest of his life in unavailing wars with Philip of France, and was killed at the seige of a castle in Limousin, in 1199, after a reign of ten years, of which he had spent only about three months in England.

John, the younger brother of Richard, succeeded, although Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, the son of an intermediate brother, was the proper heir. John, who was at once vain, cruel, and weak, alienated the affections of his subjects almost at the very first by the assassination of his nephew, which he is said to have performed with his own hands. The weakness of kings is often the means of giving increased liberties and privileges to the people. The paltry tyranny and wickedness of John caused his barons to rise against him, and the result was that, on the 19th June, 1215, he was compelled by them to sign what is called the Magna Charta, or great Charter, granting them many privileges and exemptions, and generally securing the personal liberty of his subjects. The principal point concerning the nation at large was, that no tax or supply should be levied from them without their own consent in a great Council—​the first idea of a Parliament. Some excellent provisions were also made regarding courts of law and justice, so as to secure all but the guilty.

The Pope, it appears, regarded the Magna Charta as a shameful violation of the royal prerogative, and excommunicated its authors, as being worse, in his estimation, than infidels. The opinion of a leading modern historian is very different. He says, ‘To have produced the Great Charter, to have preserved it, to have matured it, constitute the immortal claim of England on the esteem of mankind.’

HENRY III—​ORIGIN OF PARLIAMENT.

John, at his death in 1216, was succeeded by his son, Henry III, a weak and worthless prince, who ascended the throne in his boyhood, and reigned fifty six years, without having performed one worthy act of sufficient consequence to be detailed. In his reign was held the first assemblage approaching to the character of a Parliament. It was first called in 1225, in order to give supplies for carrying on a war against France. The money was only granted on condition that the Great Charter should be confirmed; and thus the example was set at the very first, for rendering supplies a check upon the prerogative of the king, and gradually reducing that power to its present comparatively moderate level. Under the earlier Norman kings, and even, it is believed, under the Saxons, an assembly called the Great Council had shared with the sovereign the power of framing laws; but it was only now that the body had any power to balance that of the sovereign, and it was not till 1265 that representatives from the inhabitants of towns were introduced.

EDWARD I AND II—​ATTEMPTED CONQUEST OF SCOTLAND.

Henry III, at his death in 1272, was succeeded by his son Edward I, a prince as warlike and sagacious as his father was the reverse. He distinguished himself by his attempts to add Wales to his kingdom, an object which he accomplished in 1282, by the overthrow and murder of Llewellen, the last prince of that country. In the meantime, from the death of William the Lion in 1214, Scotland had been ruled by two princes, Alexander II, and III, under whom it advanced considerably in wealth, civilization, and comfort. On the death of Alexandria III, in 1285, the crown fell to his granddaughter Margaret, a young girl, whose father was Eric, king of Norway. Edward formed a treaty with the Estates of Scotland for a marriage between this princess and his son, whom he styled Prince of Wales. Unfortunately, the young lady died on her voyage to Scotland; and the crown was left to be disputed by a multitude of distant relations, of whom John Baliol and Robert Bruce seem to have the best right. Edward, being resolved to make Scotland his own at all hazards, interfered in this dispute, and being appointed arbitrator among the competitors, persuaded them to own in the first place an ill-defined claim put forward by himself of the right of paramountcy or superior sovereignty over Scotland. When this was done, he appointed Baliol to be his vassal king, an honor which the unfortunate man was not long permitted to enjoy. Having driven Baliol to resistance, he invaded the country, overthrew his army, and stripping him of his sovereignty, assumed to himself the dominion of Scotland, as a right forfeited to him by the rebellion of his vassal. After he had retired, a brave Scottish gentleman, named William Wallace, raised an insurrection against his officers, and defeating his army at Stirling in 1298, cleared the whole country of its southern invaders. But in the succeeding year, this noble patriot was defeated by Edward in person at Falkirk, and the English yoke was again imposed. It may be remarked, that this could have hardly taken place if the common people, who rose with Wallace, and who were wholly of Celtic and Saxon origin, had been led and encouraged by the nobility. The grandees of Scotland, and even the competitors for the crown, being recent Norman settlers, were disposed to render obedience to the English sovereign.

Some time after the death of Wallace, while Edward was engrossed with the French wars, Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, grand son of him who had competed with Baliol, conceived the idea of putting himself at the head of the Scots, and endeavoring by their means at once to gain the crown, and to recover the independence of the kingdom. After a series of adventures, among which was the unpremeditated murder of a rival named Comyn, Bruce caused himself, in 1306, to be crowned at Scone. For some time after he had to skulk as a fugitive, being unable to maintain his ground against the English officers; but at length he became so formidable, that Edward found it necessary (1307) to lead a large army against him. The English monarch, worn out with fatigue and age, died on the coast of the Solway Firth, when just within sight of Scotland, leaving his sceptre to his son Edward II. That weak and foolish prince immediately returned to London, leaving Bruce to contest with his inferior officers.

After several years of constant skirmishing, during which the Scottish king was able to maintain his ground, Edward resolved to make one decisive effort to reduce Scotland to subjection. In the summer of 1314, he invaded it with an army of 100,000 men. Bruce drew up his troops, which were only 30,000 in number, at Bannockburn, near Stirling. Partly by steady valor, and partly by the use of stratagems, the Scots were victorious, and Edward fled ignominiously from the field. The Scottish king gained an immense booty, besides securing his crown and the independence of his country. He soon after sent his brother Edward, with a body of troops, to Ireland, to assist the native chiefs in resisting the English. This bold young knight was crowned King of Ireland, and for some time held his ground against the English forces, but was at length defeated and slain.

The weakness of Edward II was chiefly shown in a fondness for favorites, into whose hands he committed the whole interests of his people. The first was a low Frenchman, named Piers Gaveston, who soon fell a victim to the indignation of the barons. The second, Hugh Spencer, misgoverned the country for several years, till at length the Queen and prince of Wales raised an insurrection against the king, and caused him to be deposed, as quite unfit to reign. The Prince was then crowned as Edward III (1327), being as yet only about fourteen years of age; and in the course of a few months the degraded sovereign was cruelly put to death in Berkeley Castle.

During the minority of the young king, the reins of government were held by his mother and the Earl of March. Under their administration, a peace was concluded with King Robert of Scotland, of which one of the conditions was a full acknowledgement of the independence of the Scottish monarchy, which had been a matter of dispute for some ages.

EDWARD III—​RICHARD II.

Edward III, who soon after assumed full power, was destined to make good the remark prevalent at this time, that the kings of England were alternately able and imbecile. He was a warlike and sagacious monarch, and inspired by all his grandfather’s desire of conquest. In 1329, Robert Bruce died, and was succeeded by his infant son David II, to whom a young sister of the English king was married, in terms of the late treaty. Notwithstanding this connection, Edward aided a son of John Baliol in an attempt to gain the Scottish crown. Edward Baliol overthrew the Regent of Scotland at Duplin, September 1332, and for two months reigned as King of Scots, while David and his wife took refuge in France. Though now expelled, Baliol afterwards returned to renew his claims, and for many years the country was harassed by unceasing wars, in which the English took a leading part.

But for his attention being diverted to France, Edward III would have made a more formidable effort to subdue Scotland, and might have succeeded. He was led into a long course of warfare with France, in consequence of an absurd pretension which he had made to its crown. In the victories which he had gained at Cressy (August 26, 1346) and Poitiers (September 17, 1356), the national valor, his own, and that of his celebrated son, the Black Prince, were shown conspicuously; but this lavish expenditure of the resources of his kingdom, in which he was supported by his parliament, was of no permanent benefit, even to himself, for whom alone it was made. In those days, almost all men fought well, but very few had the art to improve their victories. John, king of France, who had been made captive at Poitiers, and David, king of Scotland, who had been taken in 1346, while conducting an invasion of England, were at one time prisoners in England; but no permanent advantage was ever gained over either of the states thus deprived of their sovereigns. In 1361, after about twenty years of active fighting, the English king left France with little more territory than he had previously enjoyed. Edward had invaded Scotland with a powerful army in 1356, but without making any impression. The Scots, under David’s nephew, Robert Stuart, effectually protected themselves, not only from his arms, but from a proposal which David himself basely undertook to make, that Lionel, the third son of the English king, should be acknowledged as his successor. Edward died in 1377, a year after the decease of his son the Black Prince; and notwithstanding all their brilliant exploits, the English territories in France were less than at the beginning of the reign.

England was at this time affected more than at any other by the fashions of chivalry. This was a military enthusiasm, which for some centuries pervaded all Christian Europe. It prompted, as one of its first principles, a heedless bravery in encountering all kinds of danger. Its votaries were expected to be particularly bold in behalf of the fair sex, insomuch that a young knight would sometimes challenge to mortal combat any one who denied his mistress to be the loveliest in the world. Tournaments were held, at which knights clad in complete armor would ride against each other at full speed with leveled lances, merely to try which had the greatest strength and skill; and many were killed on these occasions. It was a system full of extravagance, and tending to bloodshed; but nevertheless it maintained a certain courtesy towards females, and a romantic principle of honor, which we may be glad to admire, considering how rude was almost every other feature of the age.

Edward III was succeeded by his grandson, Richard II, then a boy of eleven years of age, and who proved to be a person of weak and profligate character. The Commons took advantage of the irregularity of his government to strengthen their privileges, which they had with difficulty sustained during the more powerful rule of his predecessor. Early in this reign they assumed the right, not only of taxing the country, but of seeing how the money was spent. Indignant at the severity of a tax imposed upon all grown-up persons, the peasantry of the eastern parts of England rose, in 1381, under a person of their own order, named Wat Tyler, and advanced, to the number of 60,000, to London, where they put to death the chancellor and primate, as evil counselors of their sovereign. They demanded the abolition of bondage, the liberty of buying and selling in fairs and markets, a general pardon, and the reduction of the rent of land to an equal rate. The king came to confer with them at Smithfield, where, on some slight pretense, Walworth, mayor of London, stabbed Wat Tyler with a dagger—​a weapon which has since figured in the armorial bearings of the metropolis. The peasants were dismayed, and submitted, and no fewer than fifteen hundred of them were hanged. Wat Tyler’s insurrection certainly proceeded upon a glimmering sense of those equal rights of mankind which have since been generally acknowledged; and it is remarkable, that at the same time the doctrines of the reformer Wickliffe were first heard of. This learned ecclesiastic wrote against the power of the Pope, and some of the most important points of the Romish faith, and also executed a translation of the Bible into English. His writings are acknowledged to have been of material, though not immediate effect, in bringing about the reformation of religion.

The country was misgoverned by Richard II till 1399, when he was deposed by his subjects under the leading of his cousin, Henry, Duke of Lancaster. This person, though some nearer the throne were alive, was crowned as Henry IV, and his predecessor, Richard, was soon after murdered. In the meantime, David of Scotland died in 1371, and was succeeded by Robert Stuart, who was the first monarch of that family. Robert I, dying in 1389, was succeeded by his son Robert II, who was a good and gentle prince. He had two sons, David and James; the former was starved to death by his uncle, the Duke of Albany; and the latter, when on his way to France for his education, was seized by Henry IV of England, and kept captive in that country for eighteen years. Robert II then died of a broken heart (1406), and the kingdom fell into the hands of the Duke of Albany, at whose death, in 1419, it was governed by his son Duke Murdoch, a very imbecile personage.

HOUSE OF LANCASTER.

Henry IV proved a prudent prince, and comparatively a good ruler. The settlement of the crown upon him by parliament was a good precedent, though perhaps only dictated under the influence of his successful arms. He was much troubled by insurrections, particularly a formidable one by Percy, Earl of Northumberland—​and one still more difficult to put down in Wales, where Owen Glendower, a descendant of the British princes, kept his ground for several years.

On the death of Henry IV in 1413, he was succeeded by his son, who was proclaimed under the title of Henry V. The young king attained high popularity, on account of his impartial administration of justice, and his zeal to protect the poor from the oppressions of their superiors. His reign is less agreeably marked by the persecutions of the Lollards, a body of religious reformers, many of whom were condemned to the flames. Being determined to use every endeavor to gain the crown of France, which he considered his by right of birth, he landed in Normandy with 30,000 men (August 1415), and gave battle to a much superior force of the French at Agincourt. He gained a complete victory, which was sullied by his afterwards ordering a massacre of his prisoners, under the apprehension that an attempt was to be made to rescue them. The war was carried on for some years longer, and Henry would have probably succeeded in making good his claim to the French crown, if he had not died prematurely of a dysentery (August 31, 1422), in the thirty-fourth year of his age, leaving the throne to an infant nine months old, who was proclaimed as Henry VI, King of France and England.

Under Henry VI, whose power was for some time in the hands of his uncle the Duke of Bedford, the English maintained their footing in France for several years, and at the battle of Verneuil, in 1424, rivaled the glory of Cressy and Poitiers. At that conflict, a body of Scotch, 7000 strong, who had proved of material service to the French, were nearly cut off. In 1428, when France seemed completely sunk beneath the English rule, the interests of the native prince were suddenly revived by a simple maiden, named Joan of Arc, who pretended to have been commissioned by Heaven to save her country; and entering into the French army, was the cause of several signal reverses to the English. By her enthusiastic exertions, and the trust everywhere reposed in her supernatural character, Charles VII was crowned at Rheims in 1430. Being soon after taken prisoner, the heroic maiden was, by the English, condemned for witchcraft, and burnt. Nevertheless, about the year 1453, the French monarch had retrieved the whole of his dominions from the English, with the exception of Calais.

Henry VI was remarkable for the extreme weakness of his character. His cousin, Richard, Duke of York, descended from an elder son of Edward III, and therefore possessed of a superior title to the throne, conceived that Henry’s imbecility afforded a good opportunity for asserting what he thought his birthright. Thus commenced the famous Wars of the Roses, as they were called, from the badges of the families of York and Lancaster—​the former of which was a white, while the latter was a red rose. In 1454, the duke gained a decisive victory over the forces of Henry, which were led by his spirited consort, Margaret of Anjou. In some succeeding engagements the friends of Henry were victorious; and at length, in the battle of Wakefield (December 24, 1460), the forces of the Duke of York were signally defeated, and himself, with one of his sons, taken and put to death. His pretensions were then taken up by his eldest son Edward, who, with the assistance of the Earl of Warwick, gained such advantages next year, that he assumed the crown. Before this was accomplished, many thousands had fallen on both sides. Henry, who cared little for the pomp of sovereignty, was confined in the Tower.

Scotland, in the meantime (1424), had redeemed her king from his captivity in England; and that prince, styled James I, had proved a great legislator and reformer, not to speak of his personal accomplishments in music and literature, which surpassed those of every cotemporary monarch. James did much to reduce the Highlands to an obedience under the Scottish government, and also to break up the enormous power of the nobles. By these proceedings, however, he excited a deep hatred in the bosoms of some of his subjects; and in 1437 he fell a victim to assassination at Perth. He was succeeded by his infant son, James II, the greater part of whose reign was spent in a harassing contention with the powerful house of Douglas, and who was finally killed, in the flower of his age, by the bursting of a cannon before Roxburgh Castle. His successor, James III, was also a minor, and, on reaching man’s estate, proved to be a weak, though not ill-meaning prince. He fell a victim, in 1488, to a conspiracy formed by his subjects, and which was led by his eldest son. The morality of princes in this age seems to have been much upon a par with that ascribed to the Turkish sovereigns of a later period. They never scrupled to destroy life, either within the circle of their own family, or out of it, when it suited their interests or their ambition to do so.

HOUSE OF YORK.

Edward, of the House of York, styled Edward IV, who commenced his reign in the nineteenth year of his age, reigned ten years, perpetually disturbed by renewed attempts of the Lancastrian party, of which he mercilessly sacrificed many thousands who fell into his hands. At length, having offended the Earl of Warwick, who had been chiefly instrumental in placing him upon the throne, that powerful nobleman raised an insurrection against him, and in eleven days was master of the kingdom, while Edward had to take refuge on the continent. Henry VI was then restored, and Warwick acquired the title of King-maker. Nine months after (1471), Edward landed with a small body of followers, and having called his partisans arround him, overthrew and killed Warwick at St. Alban’s. Margaret of Anjou, who had fought battles for her husband in almost every province of England, gathered a new army, and opposed Edward at Tewkesbury Park, where she was completely defeated. Her son and husband being taken, were murdered in cold blood, and she herself spent the remainder of her singular life in France. Edward reigned, a profligate and a tyrant, till 1483, when he died in the forty-second year of his age. He had previously caused his brother, the equally profligate Duke of Clarence, to be drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine.

During the reign of Edward IV, the plague frequently broke out in England, and carried off immense numbers of the people. It was particularly fatal in London, and in all other places where many houses were huddled closely together, with imperfect means of cleaning and ventilation. It was calculated that the disease, on one occasion in this reign, destroyed as many lives as the fifteen years’ war. The plague did not cease to occur in England, as well as in other European countries, until considerable improvements had taken place in the habits of the people, especially in point of cleanliness.

Edward V, the eldest son of Edward IV, was a boy of eleven years when he succeeded to the crown. His uncle, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, a wicked and deformed wretch, soon after contrived to obtain the chief power, and also to cause the murder of the young king and his still younger brother in the Tower. He then mounted the throne under the title of Richard III. For two years, this disgrace to humanity continued to reign, though universally abhorred by his people. At length, in 1485, Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, a connexion rather than a descendant of the Lancaster family, resolved to make an attempt upon the English crown. Having landed with about 2000 followers at Milford Haven, he advanced into the country, and speedily gained such accession of force as enabled him to meet and overthrow Richard at Bosworth Field, where the tyrant was slain, and the victorious Richmond was immediately proclaimed king, under the title of Henry VII. The new monarch soon after sought to strengthen his title by marrying Elizabeth, the daughter and heir of Edward IV, by which it was said the families of York and Lancaster were united.

HOUSE OF TUDOR—​HENRY VII.

Under Henry VII the country revived from the evils of a long civil war, in the course of which the chief nobility had been broken down, and the industry and commerce of the land interrupted. It was remarkable, nevertheless, that, during the past period, England was upon the whole an improving country. The evils of war had fallen chiefly on those who made it; the government, however disturbed by various claimants of the throne, was mild and equitable—​at least as compared with that of other countries; and the people at large throve under a system in which their own consent, by the voice of the House of Commons, was necessary to the making of every new law, and the laying on of every tax. The reign of Henry VII was much disturbed by insurrections, in consequence of his imperfect title. A baker’s boy, named Lambert Symnel, and a Jew’s son, named Perkin Warbeck, were successively set up by the York party—​the one as a son of the late Duke of Clarence, and the other as the younger brother of Edward V, but were both defeated. Warbeck was hanged at Tyburn in 1499; and nearly about the same time, Henry procured, by forms of law, the death of the Earl of Warwick, the real son of the late Duke of Clarence, a poor idiot boy, whom he had kept fifteen years in confinement, and whose title to the throne, being superior to his own, rendered him uneasy.

Henry though a cruel prince, as were most of the sovereigns of his age, was a sagacious and peaceful ruler. He paid great attention to all his affairs, and in some of his acts looked far beyond the present time. For example, by marrying his daughter Margaret to James IV of Scotland, he provided for the possibility of the future union of the two crowns. By a law allowing men of property to break entails, he insured the reduction of the great lords, and the increase of the number of small proprietors. His constant policy was to depress the chief nobles, and to elevate the clergy, lawyers, and men of new families, as most likely to be dependent on him. The greatest fault of his character was his excessive love of money, of which he amassed an immense sum. During his reign, Ireland was made more dependent on the English crown by a statute prohibiting any parliament from being held in it until the king should give his consent.

HENRY VIII.

Henry VII. died in April 1509, in the fifty-third year of his age. His eldest surviving son and successor, Henry VIII, was now in his eighteenth year. Young, handsome, and supposed to be amiable, he enjoyed at first a high degree of popularity. Some years before, he had been affianced to Catharine, a Spanish princess, who had previously been the wife of his deceased brother Arthur: he was now married to this lady, the Pope having previously granted a dispensation for that purpose. For many years the reign of Henry was unmarked by any unusual incidents. The chief administration of affairs was committed to a low-born but proud churchman, the celebrated Cardinal Wolsey. The king became much engaged in continental politics; and during a war which he carried on against France, his brother-in-law James IV, who sided with that state, made an unfortunate irruption into the north of England, and was overthrown and slain, with the greater part of his nobility (September 9, 1513), at Flodden.

About this time some changes of great importance to European society took place. Almost ever since the destruction of the Roman Empire, the nations which arose out of it had remained in subjection to the Papal See, which might be said to have inherited the universal sway of that government, but altered from an authority over the bodies of men to an empire over their minds. In the opinion of many, this authority of the Roman Catholic religion had in the course of time become much abused, while the religion itself was corrupted by many superstitious observances. So long as men had continued to be the thoughtless warriors and unlettered peasants which they had been in the middle ages, it is not probable that they would ever have called in question either the authority of the Pope or the purity of the Catholic faith. But, with knowledge, and the rise of a commercial and manufacturing class, came a disposition to inquire into the authority of this great religious empire. The art of printing, discovered about the middle of the preceding century, and which was now rendering literature accessible to most classes of the community, tended greatly to bring about this revolution in European intellect. The minds of men, indeed, seem at this time as if awaking from a long sleep; and it might well have been a question with persons who had reflection, but no experience, whether the change was to turn to evil or to good.

When men’s minds are in a state of preparation for any great change, a very small matter is required to set them in motion. At Wittemberg, in Germany, there was an Augustine monk, named Martin Luther, who became incensed at the Roman see, in consequence of some injury which he conceived to have been done to his order by the Pope having granted the privilege of selling indulgences to the Dominican order of friars. Being a man of a bold and inquiring mind, he did not rest satisfied till he had convinced himself, and many others around him, that the indulgences were sinful, and that the Pope had no right to grant them. This happened about the year 1517. Controversy and persecution gradually extended the views of Luther, till he at length openly disavowed the authority of the Pope, and condemned some of the most important peculiarities of the Catholic system of worship. In these proceedings, Luther was countenanced by some of the states in Germany, and his doctrines were speedily established in the northern countries of Europe.

THE REFORMATION.

Henry VIII, as the second son of his father, had been originally educated for the church, and still retained a taste for theological learning. He now distinguished himself by writing a book against the Lutheran doctrines; and the Pope was so much pleased with it as to grant him the title of Defender of the Faith. Henry was not destined, however, to continue long an adherent of the Roman pontiff. In the year 1527, he became enamored of a young gentlewoman named Anne Boleyn, who was one of his wife’s attendants. He immediately conceived the design of annuling his marriage with Catharine, and marrying this younger and more agreeable person. Finding a pretext for such an act in the previous marriage of Catharine to his brother, he attempted to obtain from the Pope a decree, declaring his own marriage unlawful, and that the dispensation upon which it had proceeded was beyond the powers of the former Pope to grant. The pontiff (Clement VII) was much perplexed by this request of King Henry, because he could not accede to it without offending Charles V, Emperor of Germany, one of his best supporters, and the nephew of Queen Catharine, and at the same time humbling the professed powers of the Papacy, which were now trembling under the attacks of Luther.

Henry desired to employ the influence of his minister, Cardinal Wolsey, who had now reached a degree of opulence and pride never before attained by a subject of England. But Wolsey, with all his greatness, could not venture to urge a matter disagreeable to the Pope, who was more his master than King Henry. The process went on for several years, and still his passion for Anne Boleyn continued unabated. Wolsey at length fell under the king’s displeasure for refusing to serve him in this object, was stripped of all his places of power and wealth, and in November 1530, expired at Leicester Abbey, declaring that, if he had served his God as diligently as his king, he would not thus have been given over in his gray hairs. The uncontrollable desire of the king to possess Anne Boleyn, was destined to be the immediate cause of one of the most important changes that ever took place in England—​no less than a total reformation of the national religion. In order to annul his marriage with Catharine, and enable him to marry Anne Boleyn, he found it necessary to shake off the authority of the Pope, and procure himself to be acknowledged in Parliament as the supreme head of the English church. His marriage with Anne took place in 1533, and in the same year was born his celebrated daughter Elizabeth.

In 1536, Henry became as anxious to put away Queen Anne as he had ever been to rid himself of Queen Catharine. He had contracted a passion for Jane Seymour, a young lady then of the queen’s bedchamber, as Anne herself had been in that of Catharine. In order to gratify this new passion, he accused Anne of what appears to have been an imaginary frailty, and within a month from the time when she had been an honored queen, she was beheaded (May 19) in the Tower. On the very next day he married Jane Seymour, who soon after died in giving birth to a son (afterwards Edward VI.) His daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, were declared illegitimate by act of Parliament, and therefore excluded from the succession.

Hitherto, though professing independence of Rome, Henry still maintained, and even enforced, by severe and bloody laws, the most of its doctrines. He now took measures for altering this system of worship to something nearer the Lutheran model, and also for suppressing the numerous monasteries through the country. Being possessed of more despotic power, and, what is stranger still, of more popularity, than any former sovereign of England, he was able to encounter the dreadful risk of offending by these means a vastly powerful corporation, which seems moreover, to have been regarded with much sincere affection and respect in many parts of England. No fewer than 645 monasteries, 2374 chanteries and chapels, 90 colleges, and 110 hospitals, enjoying altogether a revenue of £161,000, were broken up by this powerful and unscrupulous monarch. He partly seized the revenues for his own use, and partly gave them away to the persons who most actively assisted him and who seemed most able to protect his government from the effects of such a sweeping reform. By this act, which took place in 1537, the Reformation was completed in England. Yet for many years Henry vacillated so much in his opinions, and enforced these with such severe enactments, that many persons of both religions were burnt as heretics. It was in the southern and eastern parts of England, where the commercial class at this time chiefly resided, that the doctrines of the Reformation were most prevalent. In the western and northern parts of the country, Catholicism continued to flourish; and in Ireland, which was remotest of all from the continent, the Protestant faith made little or no impression.

After the death of Jane Seymour, Henry married Anne of Cleves, a German princess, with whose person, however, he was not pleased; and he therefore divorced her by an act of Parliament. He next married Catherine Howard, niece to the Duke of Norfolk; but had not been long united to her when he discovered that she had committed a serious indiscretion before marriage. This was considered a sufficient reason for beheading the unfortunate queen, and attainting all her relations. Though Henry had thus murdered two wives, and divorced other two, and become, moreover, a monster in form as well as in his passions and mind, he succeeded in obtaining for his sixth wife (1543) Catherine Parr, widow of Lord Latimer, who, it is certain, only contrived to escape destruction by her extraordinary prudence. Almost all who ever served Henry VIII as ministers, either to his authority or to his pleasures, were destroyed by him. Wolsey was either driven to suicide, or died of a broken heart. Thomas Cromwell, who succeeded that minister, and chiefly aided the king in bringing about the Reformation—​Sir Thomas More, lord chancellor, the most virtuous, most able and most consistent man of his time—​the Earl of Surrey, who was one of the most accomplished knights of the age, and the first poet who wrote the English language with perfect taste—​all suffered the same fate with Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard.

When James IV died at Flodden, in 1513, the Scottish crown fell to his infant son James V, who struggled through a turbulent minority, and was now a gay, and, upon the whole, an amiable prince. His uncle, Henry VIII, endeavored to bring him into his views respecting religion; but James, who was much in the power of the Catholic clergy, appears to have wished to become the head of the Popish party in England, in the hope of succeeding, by their means, to the throne of that country. A war latterly broke out between the two monarchs, and the Scottish army having refused to fight, from a dislike to the expedition, James died (December 1542) of a broken heart, leaving an only child, Mary, who was not above a week old. Henry immediately conceived the idea of marrying his son Edward to this infant queen, by which he calculated that two hostile nations should be united under one sovereignty, and the Protestant church in England be supported by a similar establishment in Scotland. This project, however, was resisted by the Scots, of whom very few as yet were inclined to the Protestant doctrines. Henry, enraged at their hesitation, sent a fleet and army, in 1544, to inflict vengeance upon them. The Scots endured with great patience the burning of their capital city, and many other devastations, but still refused the match. The government of Scotland was now chiefly in the hands of Cardinal Beaton, a man of bold and decisive intellect, who zealously applied himself to suppress the reforming preachers, and regarded the English match as likely to bring about the destruction of the Catholic religion.

EDWARD VI—​QUEEN MARY.

Henry died, January 28, 1547, leaving the throne to his only son, a boy of ten years of age, who was immediately proclaimed king under the title of Edward VI. The Duke of Somerset, maternal uncle to the young king, became supreme ruler under the title of Protector, and continued to maintain the Protestant doctrines. Under this reign, the church of England assumed its present form, and the Book of Common Prayer was composed nearly as it now exists. Somerset being resolved to effect, if possible, the match between Edward VI and Mary of Scotland, invaded that country in the autumn of 1547, and was met at Musselburgh by a large army under the governor, the Earl of Arran. Though the Scotch were animated by bitter animosity against the English, against their religion, and against the object of their expedition, they did not fight with their usual resolution, but were defeated, and pursued with great slaughter. Finding them still obstinate in refusing to give up their queen, Somerset laid waste a great part of the country, and then retired. Previous to this period, Cardinal Beaton had been assassinated by private enemies; but the Scotch were encouraged to persevere by the court of France, to which they now sent the young queen for protection.

In the reign of Edward VI the government was conducted mildly, until the Protector Somerset was degraded from his authority by the rising influence of Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, who caused him soon after to be tried and executed. Northumberland, who was secretly a Roman Catholic, was not so mild or popular a ruler. Yet, throughout the whole reign of Edward VI which was terminated by his death on the 6th of July 1553, at the early age of sixteen, no religious party was persecuted, except those who denied the fundamental doctrines of the Christian religion. It would have been well for the honor of a church which has produced many great men, and to which the modern world is indebted for the very existence of Christianity, if it had not been tempted after this period to commence a very different course of action. The crown now belonged by birthright to Mary, the eldest daughter of Henry VIII, who was a zealous Catholic. Northumberland, however, assuming the illegitimacy of that princess and her sister Elizabeth, set up as queen the Lady Jane Grey, who was descended from a younger sister of King Henry, and who had been married to a son of the Duke of Northumberland. Lady Jane was the most beautiful, most intelligent, and most amiable of all the females who appear in the history of England. Though only seventeen, she was deeply learned, and yet preserved all the unaffected graces of character proper to her interesting age. Unfortunately, her father-in-law Northumberland was so much disliked, that the Catholics were enabled to displace her from the throne in eight days, and to set up in her stead the Princess Mary. Northumberland, Lady Jane, and her husband, Guildford, Lord Dudley, were all beheaded by that savage princess, who soon after took steps for restoring the Catholic religion, and married Philip II, king of Spain, in order to strengthen herself against the Protestant interest. Mary experienced some resistance from her Protestant subjects, and being under great suspicion of her sister Elizabeth, who professed the reformed faith, but took no part against her, was almost on the point of ordering her to execution also. As soon as she had replaced the Catholic system, and found herself in possession of sufficient power, she began that career of persecution which has rendered her name so infamous. Five out of fourteen Protestant bishops, including the revered names of Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, were committed to the flames as heretics; and during the ensuing part of her reign, which was closed by her death, November 17, 1558, nearly three hundred persons suffered in the same manner. These scenes did not take place without exciting horror in the minds of Englishmen in general, including even many Catholics; but the royal authority was at all times too great under this line of princes to allow of effectual resistance. Such a persecution, however, naturally fixed in the minds of the British Protestants a hereditary horror for the name of Catholic, which has in its turn been productive of many retaliatory persecutions, almost equally to be lamented. In the latter part of her reign, she was drawn by her husband into a war with France, of which the only effect was the loss of Calais, the last of the French possessions of the sovereigns of England. The natural sourness of Mary’s temper was increased by this disgraceful event, as well as by her want of children, and she died in a state of great unhappiness.

ELIZABETH—​MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS—​REFORMATION IN SCOTLAND.

A more auspicious scene opened for England in the accession of Elizabeth, a princess of great native vigor of mind, and who had been much improved by adversity, having been kept in prison during the whole reign of her sister. From the peculiar circumstances of Elizabeth’s birth, her right of succession was denied by all the Catholics at home and abroad. This party considered Mary, Queen of Scots, who was descended from the eldest sister of Henry VIII, and had been brought up in the Catholic faith at the court of France, as their legitimate sovereign. Elizabeth had no support in any quarter, except among her Protestant subjects. The Pope issued a bull, which directly or indirectly, pronounced her a usurper, and gave permission to her subjects to remove her from the throne. The court of France professed to consider the Queen of Scots, who had recently been married to the Dauphin, as the Queen of England. Under these circumstances, Elizabeth found no chance of safety except in restoring and maintaining the Protestant religion in her own country, and in seeking to support it in all others where the people were favorable to it. The Scottish nation being now engaged in a struggle with their regent, Mary of Guise, in behalf of Protestantism, Elizabeth gladly acceded to a proposal made by the nobles of that country, and sent a party of troops, by whose assistance the reformed religion was established (1560). In bringing about this change, the chief native leaders were James Stuart, a natural son of King James V, and John Knox, who had once been a friar, but was now a Protestant preacher. As a natural consequence of the obligation which the English queen had conferred upon the Scottish reformers, she acquired an influence over the country which was never altogether lost.

About the time when the Scottish Parliament was establishing the reformed religion, Mary of Guise breathed her last, leaving the country to be managed by the reforming nobles. Her daughter, the Queen of Scots, now eighteen years of age, and the most beautiful woman of her time, had in 1559 become the queen-consort of France; but in consequence of the death of her husband, she was next year left without any political interest in that country. She accordingly, in August 1561, returned to Scotland, and assumed the sovereignty of a country which was chiefly under the rule of fierce nobles, and where the people, from the difference of their religious faiths, as well as their native barbarism, were little fitted to yield her the obedience of loyal and loving subjects.

The change of religion in Scotland was of a more decisive kind than it had been in England. The English Reformation had been effected by sovereigns who, while they wished to throw off the supremacy of the Pope, and some of the Catholic rites, desired to give as little way as possible to popular principles. They therefore not only seized the supremacy of the church to themselves, but, by bishops and other dignitaries, made it an efficient instrument for supporting monarchical government. In Scotland, where the Reformation was effected by the nobles and the people, at a time when still bolder principles had sprung up, none of this machinery of power was retained. The clergy were placed on a footing of perfect equality; they were all of them engaged in parochial duties, and only a small part of the ancient ecclesiastical revenues was allowed to them. In imitation of the system established at Geneva, their general affairs, instead of being intrusted to the hands of bishops, were confided to courts formed by themselves. These courts, being partly formed by lay elders, kept up a sympathy and attachment among the community, which has never existed in so great a degree in the English church. What was of perhaps still greater importance, while a large part of the ancient revenues was absorbed by the nobles, a very considerable portion was devoted to the maintenance of parish schools, under the express control of the clergy. These at once formed regular nurseries of Protestant Christians, and disseminated the elements of learning more extensively over this small and remote country than it had ever been over any other part of the world.

Queen Mary, having little power in her own country, was obliged to govern by means of her natural brother, James Stuart, whom she created Earl of Moray, and who was the leader of the Protestant interest in Scotland. Personally, however, she was intimately connected with the great Catholic powers of the continent, and became a party, in 1564, to a coalition formed by them for the suppression of Protestantism all over Europe. She had never yet resigned her pretensions to the English throne, but lived in the hope that, when the Catholics succeeded in everywhere subduing the Protestants, she would attain that object. Elizabeth, who had only the support of the Protestant part of her own subjects, with a friendly feeling among the Scotch and other unimportant Protestant nations, had great reason to dread the confederacy formed against her. She nevertheless stood firm upon the Protestant faith, and the principles of a comparatively liberal and popular government, as the only safe position.

A series of unfortunate events threw Mary into the hands of Elizabeth. The former queen, in 1565, married her cousin Lord Darnley, and by that means alienated the affections of her brother and chief minister, the Earl of Moray, as well as of other Protestant lords, who raised a rebellion against her, and were obliged to fly into England. Soon after, the jealousy of Darnley respecting an Italian musician named Rizzio, who acted as French secretary to the queen, united him in a conspiracy with the banished Protestant noblemen for the murder of that humble foreigner, which was effected under very barbarous circumstances, March 9, 1566. Mary, who was delivered in the succeeding June, of her son James, withdrew her affections entirely from her husband, and began to confide chiefly in the Earl of Bothwell, who some months afterwards caused Darnley to be blown up by gunpowder, while he lay in a state of sickness; in which transaction it has always been suspected, but never proved, that the queen had a considerable share. Bothwell soon after forced her, in appearance, into a marriage, which excited so much indignation among her subjects, that the same Protestant lords who had effected the Reformation, and were the friends of Elizabeth, easily obtained the possession of her person, and having deposed her, crowned her infant son as king, under the title of James VI, while the regency was vested in the Earl of Moray. In May 1568, Mary escaped from her prison in Lochleven, and put herself at the head of a body of her partisans, but was defeated by the regent at the battle of Langside, and was then compelled to seek refuge in England. By placing her rival under strict confinement, and extending an effectual protection to the regents Moray, Lennox, Mar, and Morton, who successively governed Scotland, Elizabeth fortified herself in a great degree against the Catholic confederacy.

GOVERNMENT OF ELIZABETH.

It has already been seen that the liberties of the people were much favored by the frequent interruptions in the succession to the crown. Whenever one branch of the Plantagenet family displaced another, the new king, feeling himself weak, endeavored to strengthen his title by procuring a parliamentary enactment in support of it. It thus became established as a regular principle in the English government, that the people who were represented in parliament had something to say in the appointment of their king. A considerable change, however, had taken place since the accession of Henry VII. The great power acquired by that king, through his worldly wisdom and the destruction of the nobility during the civil wars, had been handed down through four successive princes, who inherited the crown by birthright, and did not require to cringe to the people for a confirmation of their title. The parliaments, therefore, were now a great deal more under the control of the sovereign than they had formerly been. From an early period of his reign, Henry VIII never permitted his parliament to oppose his will in the least. To the various changes of religion under successive sovereigns, the parliaments presented no obstacle. An idea was now beginning to arise, very much through the supremacy which the sovereigns had acquired over the church, that the right of the crown was one derived from God, and that the people had nothing to do with it, except to obey what it dictated to them. Of this notion, no one took so much advantage, or was at so much pains to impress it, as Elizabeth. No doubt her arbitrary measures were generally of a popular nature, yet this does not excuse them in principle; and their ultimate mischief is seen in the attempts of future sovereigns to pursue worse ends upon the same means. Elizabeth’s government consisted entirely of herself and her ministers, who were, from the beginning to the end of her reign, the very spirit and essence of the enlightened men of England. Her prime minister was the celebrated Lord Burleigh, by far the most sagacious man who ever acted as a minister in Britain; and all her emissaries to foreign courts were of one complexion—​circumspect and penetrating men, ardently devoted to their country, their mistress, and to the Protestant religion.

On the accession of Elizabeth, the two celebrated acts of Supremacy and Conformity were passed, for the purpose of crushing the political influence of the Popish religion; an end which they sufficiently accomplished. By the act of supremacy, all beneficed clergymen, and all holding offices under the crown, were compelled to take an oath adjuring the temporal and spiritual jurisdiction of any foreign prince or prelate, on pain of forfeiting their offices, while any one maintaining such supremacy was liable to heavy penalties. The other statute prohibited any one from following any clergyman who was not of the established religion, under pain of forfeiting his goods and chattels for the first offense, of a year’s imprisonment for the second, and of imprisonment during life for the third; while it imposed a fine of a shilling on any one absenting himself from the established church on Sundays and holidays. By means of a court of ecclesiastical commission, which the queen erected, these laws, and others of a more trifling and vexatious nature, were enforced with great severity. It may afford some idea of the barbarity of the age, and of the terror in which the church of Rome was now held, that, during the reign of Elizabeth, one hundred and eighty persons suffered death by the laws affecting Catholic priests and converts.

WAR IN THE NETHERLANDS.

For more than a century after the Reformation, religion was the real or apparent motive of the most remarkable transactions in European history. It is scarcely necessary to point out that this sentiment, though in general the purest by which human beings can be actuated, is, like all the other higher sentiments of our nature, when offended or shocked, capable of rousing the inferior sentiments into great activity. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, European society was comparatively unenlightened and barbarous; we therefore find the variances of opinion respecting religion were then productive of far fiercer feelings than they are in our own more humane age. The Protestant heresy, as it was termed by the Catholics, was also a novelty, the remote effects of which no man could foretell; it was mingled with political questions, and by some princes was supposed to forebode a general revolt against monarchical authority. We are not therefore to wonder that great cruelties were committed, either by the Catholics in seeking to support the church of Rome, or by the Protestants in endeavoring to insure themselves against a renewal of severities inflicted by the opposite party. Nor is it necessary, in the present age, that the adherents of either faith should retain any feeling of displeasure against the other, on account of barbarities which took their rise in the ignorance and rudeness of a former period, and of which the enlightened of both parties have long since disapproved.

In the Netherlands, which formed part of the dominions of Philip II of Spain, the reformed faith had made considerable advances. Philip, like other Catholic princes, entertained the idea that this new creed, besides being condemnable as a heresy and an offense against the Deity, tended to make men independent of their rulers. Finding the people obstinate in their professions, he commenced a war with the Netherlanders, for the purpose of enforcing his authority over their consciences. This war lasted about twenty years; for the Netherlanders, though a nation of no great strength, fought like desperate men, and endured the most dreadful hardships rather than submit. The chief leader in this war of liberty was William, Prince of Orange, one of the purest and most courageous patriots that ever breathed. Elizabeth could not help wishing well to the Netherlanders, though for a long time her dread of Spain, then one of the greatest powers in Europe, prevented her from openly assisting them. At the same time, about two millions of the people of France were Protestants, or, as they were then called, Huguenots, who acted also for the general Protestant cause with as much energy as the great strength of the French government would permit. Elizabeth at length, in 1578, extended an open protection to the Netherlanders, excusing herself to Philip by stating her fear that they would otherwise throw themselves into the arms of France. The northern provinces were thus enabled to assert their independence, and to constitute the country which has since been called Holland.

DEATH OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS

The Catholic powers of the continent formed many schemes for annoying or dethroning Elizabeth; and the imprisoned Scottish queen, or her adherents, were generally concerned in them. The King of Spain, determined at length to make a decisive effort, commenced the preparation of a vast fleet, which he termed the Invincible Armada, and with which he designed to invade the English shores. Elizabeth, her ministers, and people, beheld the preparations with much concern, and their fears were increased by the plots which were incessantly forming amongst her Catholic subjects in behalf of the Queen of Scots. An act was passed declaring that any person, by or for whom any plot should be made against the Queen of England, should be guilty of treason. When, soon after, a gentleman named Babington formed a conspiracy for assassinating Elizabeth and placing Mary on the throne, the latter queen became of course liable to the punishment of treason, although herself innocent. She was subjected to a formal trial in her prison of Fotheringay Castle, and found guilty. Elizabeth hesitated for some time to strike an unoffending and unfortunate person, related to her by blood, and her equal in rank. But at length fears for herself got the better of her sense of justice, and, it may be added, of her good sense, and she gave her sanction to an act which leaves an ineffaceable stain upon her memory. On the 7th of February 1587, Mary Queen of Scots, was beheaded in the hall of the castle, after an embittered confinement of more than eighteen years.

James VI was now, after a turbulent minority, in possession of the reins of government in Scotland, but with little real power, being a dependent and pensioner of Elizabeth, and at the same time much controlled by the clergy, who asserted a total independence of all temporal authority, and considered themselves as the subjects alone of the Divine founder of the Christian faith. James made many attempts to assert a control over the church like that enjoyed by the English monarch, and also to introduce an Episcopal hierarchy, but never could attain more than a mere shadow of his object. The chief influence he possessed arose in fact from his being regarded as heir presumptive to the English crown.

SPANISH ARMADA—​REBELLION IN IRELAND.

In 1588, the Spanish Armada, consisting of 130 great vessels, with 20,000 land forces on board, set sail against England, while 34,000 more land forces prepared to join from the Netherlands. Amidst the consternation which prevailed in England, active measures were taken to defend the country; thirty vessels prepared to meet the Armada, and another fleet endeavored to block up the Netherlands forces in port. The command was taken by Lord Howard of Effingham. Troops were also mustered on land to repel the invaders. The English fleet attacked the Armada in the Channel, and was found to have a considerable advantage in the lightness and manageableness of the vessels. As the Armada sailed along, it was infested by the English in the rear, and by a series of desultory attacks, so damaged as to be obliged to take refuge on the coast of Zealand. The Duke of Parma now declined to embark the Netherlands forces, and it was resolved by the admiral, that they should return to Spain by sailing round the Orkneys, as the winds were contrary to their passage directly back. Accordingly they proceeded northward, and were followed by the English fleet as far as Flamborough Head, where they were terribly shattered by a storm. Seventeen of the ships, having 5,000 men on board, were cast away on the Western Isles and the coast of Ireland. Of the whole Armada, fifty-three ships only returned to Spain, and these in a wretched condition. The seamen, as well as the soldiers who remained, were so overcome with hardships and fatigue, and so dispirited by their discomfiture, that they filled all Spain with accounts of the desperate valor of the English, and of the tempestuous violence of that ocean by which they were surrounded.

Though the Protestant church had meanwhile been established in Ireland, the great bulk of the people continued to be Roman Catholics. The native rudeness of the people and their chiefs, and the discontent occasioned by what was considered as a foreign church establishment, rendered the country turbulent and difficult to govern. Sir John Perrot, the deputy, proposed to improve the country by public works and English laws; but it was thought injurious to England to improve the condition of Ireland. A series of rebellions under chiefs named O’Neill was the consequence, and the English government was maintained with great difficulty, and at an enormous expense. The rebellion of Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, was particularly formidable. The English officers were at first unsuccessful, and met with some serious defeats. In 1599, Tyrone gained so great a victory, that the whole province of Munster declared for him. He then invited the Spaniards to make a descent on Ireland, and join him. The queen sent over her favorite, the Earl of Essex, with 20,000 men; but he did not proceed with vigor, and soon after found it necessary to return to England to justify himself. Next year Tyrone broke the truce he had formed with Essex, overran the whole country, and acted as sovereign of Ireland. If Spain had at this time given him the support he asked, Ireland might have been dissevered from the English crown.

Elizabeth now selected as her deputy for Ireland, Blount, Lord Mountjoy, who was in every respect better fitted than Essex to conduct such a warfare. As a preliminary step, this sagacious officer introduced jealousy and disunion among the Irish chiefs. The very celerity of his movements tended to dispirit the insurgents. In 1601, six thousand Spaniards landed in Kinsale harbor, for the purpose of supporting the Irish. Mountjoy immediately invested the place, and prevented them from acting. Tyrone marched from the south of Ireland to their relief, and was met and overthrown by a much inferior English force, after which Kinsale was surrendered. About the time when Elizabeth died (1603), Tyrone submitted, and Ireland was once more reduced under the authority of the English crown.

CONCLUSION OF THE REIGN OF ELIZABETH.

It is remarkable, that while Elizabeth increased in power and resources, she became more noted for feminine weaknesses. In her early years she had shown a stoicism, and superiority to natural affections, not usually observed in women. But in her old age, she became both volatile and susceptible to an extraordinary degree; so that the hand which she had withheld in her younger days from the noblest princes of Europe, seemed likely to be bestowed in her old age upon some mere court minion. Her favorite in middle life was Robert, Earl of Leicester, a profligate and a trifler. In her latter days she listened to the addresses of the Earl of Essex, a young man of greater courage and better principle, but also headstrong and weak. Essex, who had acquired popularity by several brilliant military enterprises, began at length to assume an insolent superiority over the queen, who was on one occasion so much provoked by his rudeness as to give him a hearty box on the ear. Notwithstanding all his caprices, presumption, and insults, the queen still doatingly forgave him, until he at length attempted to raise an insurrection against her in the streets of London, when he was seized, condemned, and after much hesitation, executed (February 25, 1601).

Elizabeth, in at last ordering the execution of Essex, had acted upon her usual principle of sacrificing her feelings to what was necessary for the public cause; but in this effort, made in the sixty-eighth year of her age, she had miscalculated the real strength of her nature. She was observed from that time to decline gradually in health and spirits.

About the close of 1601, she fell into a deep hypochondria or melancholy. She could scarcely be induced to have herself dressed, and at length became so much absorbed by her sorrow as to refuse sustenance, and sat for days and nights on the floor, supported by a few cushions, brought to her by her attendants. On the 24th of March 1603, she expired, after a reign of nearly forty-five years, during which England advanced—​politically and commercially—​from the condition of a second-rate to that of a first rate power, and the Protestant religion was established on a basis from which it could never afterwards be shaken.

The reign of Elizabeth saw the commencement of the naval glory of England. Down to the reign of Henry VII, there was no such thing as a navy belonging to the public, and the military genius of the people was devoted exclusively to enterprises by land. The rise, however, of a commercial spirit in Europe, which in 1492 had caused the discovery of America, and was again acted upon by the scope for adventure which that discovery opened up, had latterly caused great attention to be paid to nautical affairs in England. Englishmen of all ranks supported and entered into enterprises for discovering unknown territories; and under Drake, Cavendish, Raleigh, and Frobisher, various expeditions of more or less magnitude were sent out. The colonies of North America were now commenced. Amongst the exertions of private merchants, our attention is chiefly attracted by the commencement of the northern whale-fishery, the cod-fishery of Newfoundland, and the less laudable slave-trade in Africa. When hostilities with Spain became more open, the English commanders made many successful attacks upon her colonies in the West Indies, and also upon the fleets of merchant vessels which were employed to carry home the gold, and other almost equally valuable products of the New World, to the Spanish harbors. These attacks were now made in a more systematic manner, and with more effect, as a revenge for the affair of the Armada. It may be said that the dominion of Britain over the seas was perfected almost in a single reign; a power which has been of such advantage to the country, both in protecting its commerce, and keeping it secure from foreign invasion, that its origin would have conferred everlasting lustre on this period of British history, even although it had not been characterised by any other glorious event.

The chief articles exported from England to the continent were, wool, cloth, lead, and tin: formerly these had been sent in vessels belonging to the Hanse Towns—​certain ports of the north of Europe, possessing great privileges—​but now English vessels were substituted for this trade. Birmingham and Sheffield were already thriving seats of the hardware manufacture, and Manchester was becoming distinguished for making cottons, rugs, and friezes. Stocking-weaving and the making of sailcloth, serge, and baize, took their rise in this reign. The progress of other arts was much favored by the bloody persecutions in the Netherlands, which drove into England great numbers of weavers, dyers, cloth-dressers, and silk-throwers. Amongst the wealthier classes, the wearing of handsome apparel and of gold ornaments and jewelery, made a great advance. Coaches were introduced, but for a time thought only fit for the use of ladies. Great improvements were made in the building of houses. Theatrical amusements were begun, and attained great vogue, though only in London. The smoking of tobacco was introduced by Sir Walter Raleigh, who became acquainted with the plant in Virginia. At the end of Elizabeth’s reign, the population of London was about 160,000, or a tenth of what it now is; and the whole kingdom probably contained about 5,000,000 of inhabitants.

THE STUARTS—​JAMES I.

The successor of Elizabeth, by birthright, was James VI of Scotland (styled James I of England), who was now arrived at the prime of life, and had been married for some years to the Princess Anne of Denmark, by whom he had two sons, Henry and Charles, and one daughter named Elizabeth. James immediately removed to London, and assumed the government of England, while his native kingdom, though thus united under the same sovereignty, still retained its own peculiar institutions. At the suggestion of the king, who wished to obliterate the distinction of the two countries, the common name of Great Britain was now conferred upon them. King James was an oddity in human character. His person was naturally feeble, particularly in his limbs, which were scarcely sufficient to support his weight. He had great capacity for learning, some acuteness, and a considerable share of wit; but was pedantic, vain and weak. He believed kings to be the deputies of God, and accountable to God alone for their actions. He was equally disposed with Elizabeth to govern despotically, or according to his own will; but he wanted the vigor and the tact for securing popularity which enabled his predecessor to become so much the mistress of her subjects.

Notwithstanding the energy of Elizabeth, the popular spirit had gradually been acquiring force in her reign. It was chiefly seen in the acts of the Puritans, a religious party, who wished to make great reforms in the church, both in its government and its worship, and who, from the fervor of their devotions and the strictness of their manners, might be likened to the Presbyterians of Scotland. King James found considerable difficulty at the very first in controlling this party and evading their demands. He was no less troubled, on the other hand, by the Catholics, who, recollecting his mother Mary, conceived that he would be inclined to make matters more easy to them in England. Upon the whole, there were such difficulties in the way, as, to have steered successfully through them, would have required a wiser instead of a weaker ruler than Elizabeth.

GUNPOWDER PLOT.

The disappointment of the Catholics on finding that the severe laws against them were not to be relaxed, led to a conspiracy on the part of a few gentlemen of that persuasion, of whom the chief was William Catesby, a person of dissolute habits. It was arranged that, on the day of the meeting of Parliament, November 5, 1605, the House of Lords should be blown up by gunpowder, at the moment when the King, Lords, and Commons were assembled in it, thus destroying as they thought, all their chief enemies at one blow, and making way for a new government which should be more favorable to them. Accordingly, thirty-four barrels of powder were deposited in the cellars beneath the House, and a person named Guy Fawkes was prepared to kindle it at the proper time. The plot was discovered, in consequence of the receipt of a letter by Lord Monteagle, warning him not to attend the meeting of Parliament. An investigation took place during the night between the 4th and 5th of November, when the gunpowder was discovered, and Fawkes taken into custody. He confessed his intentions; and the rest of the conspirators fled to the country, where most of them were cut to pieces in endeavoring to defend themselves. Notwithstanding the atrocious character of this plot, the king could never be induced to take advantage of it, as most of his subjects desired, for the purpose of increasing the persecution of the Catholic party. He probably feared that new severities might only give rise to other attempts against his life.

PLANTATIONS IN IRELAND.

The state in which the king found Ireland at his accession, afforded an opportunity for commencing a more generous policy in reference to that country, and introducing regulations favorable to internal improvement. Previously to this reign, the legislative authority of the English government was confined to the small district called the ‘Pale,’ while the rest was governed by native sovereigns or chiefs, whose connection with the king of England was merely that of feudal homage, which did not prevent them from making wars or alliances with each other. Subject to depredations from these powerful barons, the native Irish, from a very early period, petitioned for the benefit of the English laws; but the Irish Parliament, which was composed of the English barons, was never at a loss for the means of preventing this desirable measure from being effected. James was in reality the first king who extended the English law over the whole of Ireland, by making judicial appointments suited to the extent of the country. This he was enabled to do, by the recent wars having put the country more completely in his power than it had been in that of any former monarch. He began by extending favor to the Irish chiefs, not excepting Tyrone. He passed an act of oblivion and indemnity by which all persons who had committed offenses, coming to the judges of assize within a certain day, might claim a full pardon. At the same time, toleration was virtually refused to the Catholic persuasion, and much discontent therefore still existed. Some of the chieftains having conspired against the crown, were attainted, and their lands were given to English settlers, with a view to improving the population of the country by an infusion of civilized persons. But this experiment, though well-meant, was managed in a partial spirit, and gave rise to much injustice. In 1613, the first Irish Parliament was held in which there were any representatives of places beyond the Pale.

THE KING’S CHILDREN—​THE SPANISH MATCH.

In 1612, the king had the misfortune to lose his eldest son, Henry, a youth of nineteen, who was considered as one of the most promising and accomplished men of the age. The second son, Charles, then became the heir-apparent, and James was busied for several years in seeking him out a suitable consort. The Princess Mary of Spain was selected, a match which could not be popular, considering that the young lady was a Catholic and of a family who had long been enemies of England. The prince, attended by the Duke of Buckingham, made a romantic journey in disguise to Madrid to push the match; but a quarrel between the British and Spanish ministers led to its being broken off, and to a bloody war between the two nations. Elizabeth, the only remaining child of the king, was married in 1613, to Frederick, Prince Palatine of the Rhine, who was afterwards so unfortunate as to lose his dominions, in consequence of his placing himself at the head of the Bohemians, in what was considered as a rebellion against his superior, the Emperor of Germany. This discrowned pair, by their youngest daughter Sophia, who married the Duke of Brunswick, were the ancestors of the family which now reigns in Britain.

FEATURES OF THE GOVERNMENT OF JAMES I.

The reign of James I was not marked by what are called great events. This was greatly owing to his timid character, which induced him to maintain peace, at whatever sacrifice, throughout the greater part of his reign. The prime leaders of his government were youthful favorites, who possessed no merit but personal elegance. Experienced statesmen, brave soldiers, and learned divines, had to bow to these dissolute youths, if they wished to advance in royal favor. Even Bacon, the noblest intellect of the age, and who, by the result of his studies, has done more than almost any other man to promote the progress of knowledge, is found to have attached himself to the minion Duke of Buckingham, for the purpose of improving his interest at court. In despotic countries, the vices of the court often corrupt all classes; but it was otherwise at that period in Britain. The country gentlemen, and the merchants in the incorporated towns, had privileges which the court dared not too often violate, and a feeling of rectitude and independence was encouraged among these classes, which the statesman of the age too much overlooked. The House of Commons gave frequent resistance to the court, and often compelled James to yield, at the very moment when he was preaching his doctrines of divine right. In his first Parliament, they took into consideration several grievances, such as purveyance, a supposed right in the officers of the court to seize what provisions they pleased, at any price, or at no price; another was the right of granting monopolies, which had become a source of revenue to the court by cheating the country, certain persons having the monopoly of certain manufactures and articles of domestic consumption, which they were allowed to furnish at their own prices. The Commons likewise remonstrated against all pluralities in the church, and against a new set of canons which the king and the church tried to force on the nation without their consent. In 1614 they threatened to postpone any supply till their grievances were redressed. The king, in his turn, threatened to dissolve them if they did not immediately grant a supply; and they allowed him to take his course, which did not fill his coffers. These, and many other instances of bold resistance, should have given warning to the court. They were the shadows of coming events, and attention to them might have saved the bloodshed and confusion of the succeeding reign.

English literature, which first made a decisive advance in the reign of Elizabeth, continued to be cultivated with great success in the reign of King James. The excellence of the language at this time as a medium for literature, is strikingly shown in the translation of the Bible now executed. It is also shown in the admirable dramatic writings of Shakspeare, and in the valuable philosophic works of Bacon. The inductive philosophy, made known by the last writer—​namely, that mode of reasoning which consists in first ascertaining facts, and then inferring conclusions from them—​reflects peculiar lustre on this period of British history. Very great praise is also due to Napier of Merchiston, in Scotland, for the invention of logarithms, a mode of calculating intricate numbers, essential to the progress of mathematical science.

CHARLES I—​HIS CONTENTIONS WITH THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

King James died in March 1625, in the fifty-ninth year of his age, and was succeeded by his son Charles, now twenty five years of age. One of the first acts of the young king was to marry the Princess Henrietta Maria, daughter of Henry IV of France, and a Catholic. This was an unfortunate step for the House of Stuart, for the two eldest sons of the king and queen, though educated as Protestants, were influenced in some measure by the religious creed of their mother, so that they ultimately became Catholics; and this, in the case of the second son, James II, led to the family being expelled from the British throne.

After breaking off the proposed match with the Princess Mary of Spain, Britain eagerly threw itself into a war with that country, which was still continued. To supply the expenses of that contest, and of a still more unnecessary one into which he was driven with France, the king applied to Parliament, but was met there with so many complaints as to his government, and such a keen spirit of popular liberty, that he deemed it necessary to revive a practice followed by other sovereigns, and particularly Elizabeth, of compelling his subjects to grant him gifts, or, as they were called, benevolences, and also to furnish ships at their own charge, for carrying on the war. Such expedients, barely tolerated under the happy reign of Elizabeth, could not be endured in this age, when the people and the Parliament were so much more alive to their rights. A general discontent spread over the nation. The Commons, seeing that if the king could support the state by self-raised taxes, he would soon become independent of all control from his Parliaments, resolved to take every measure in their power to check his proceedings. They also assailed him respecting a right which he assumed to imprison his subjects upon his own warrant, and to detain them as long as he pleased. Having made an inquiry into the ancient powers of the crown, before these powers had been vitiated by the tyrannical Tudors, they embodied the result in what was called a Petition of Right, which they presented to him as an ordinary bill, or rather as a second Magna Charta, for replacing the privileges of the people, and particularly their exemption from arbitrary taxes and imprisonment, upon a fixed basis. With great difficulty Charles was prevailed upon to give his sanction to this bill (1628); but his disputes with Parliament soon after ran to such a height, that he dissolved it in a fit of indignation, resolving never more to call it together. About the same time his favorite minister, the Duke of Buckingham, was assassinated at Portsmouth, and Charles resolved thenceforward to be in a great measure his own minister, and to trust chiefly for the support of his government to the English hierarchy, to whose faith he was a devoted adherent, and who were, in turn, the most loyal of his subjects. His chief counselor was Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, a man of narrow and bigoted spirit, and who made it his duty rather to increase than to diminish the ceremonies of the English church, although the tendency of the age was decidedly favorable to their diminution. For some years Charles governed the country entirely as an irresponsible despot, levying taxes by his own orders, and imprisoning such persons as were obnoxious to him, in utter defiance of the Petition of Right. The Puritans, or church reformers, suffered most severely under this system of things. They were dragged in great numbers before an arbitrary court called the Star-Chamber, which professed to take cognizance of offenses against the king’s prerogative, and against religion; and sometimes men venerable for piety, learning, and worth, were scourged through the streets of London, and had their ears cut off, and their noses slit, for merely differing in opinion, on the most speculative of all subjects, with the king and his clergy. The great body of the people beheld these proceedings with horror, and only a fitting occasion was wanted for giving expression and effect to the public feeling.

THE LONG PARLIAMENT—​THE IRISH REBELLION.

The English Parliament met in November, and immediately commenced a series of measures for effectually and permanently abridging the royal authority. There was even a party who, provoked by the late arbitrary measures, contemplated the total abolition of the monarchy, and the establishment of a republic. The Earl of Strafford was impeached of treason against the liberties of the people, and executed (May 12, 1641), notwithstanding a solemn promise made to him by the king that he should never suffer in person or estate. Archbishop Laud was impeached and imprisoned, but reserved for future vengeance. The remaining ministers of the king only saved themselves by flight. Some of the judges were imprisoned and fined. The abolition of Episcopacy was taken into consideration. The Catholics fell under a severe persecution; and even the person of the queen, who belonged to this faith, was not considered safe.

The cruel policy by which large portions of Ireland were depopulated, and then planted with colonies of English and Scotch settlers had been continued during the reign of Charles. In addition to this and other local causes of complaint, the state of religion was one which pervaded nearly the whole country, and was always becoming more and more important. Though the reformed faith had been established for nearly a century, it had made little progress except among the English settlers. The greater part of the nobility, and also of the lower orders, were still attached to the ancient creed; and a Catholic hierarchy, appointed by the Pope, and supported by the people, enjoyed as much respect and obediance as when that religion was countenanced by the state. The refusal of the Catholics to take the oath of supremacy, which acknowledged the king to possess a right which their faith taught them to belong to the Pope, necessarily excluded them from all branches of the public service. There were also penal laws against the profession of Catholicism and a severe court of Star-Chamber to carry these into execution. Thus situated, the Irish Catholics had two powerful motives to mutiny—​a confidence in their numbers, and a constant sense of suffering under the government.

In 1633, the Earl of Strafford was appointed viceroy of Ireland. His government was vigorous, and those institutions which he thought proper to patronize flourished under it; but his great aim was to make the king absolute, and he rather subdued than conciliated the popular spirit. When summoned in 1640 to attend the king in England, he left the Irish government in the hands of Sir William Parsons and Sir John Borlase, as lords justices. Immediately after his departure, the spirit which he thought he had quelled began to reappear, being encouraged both by his absence and the success which the Scottish Covenanters had experienced in a war against religious restraint. A conspiracy, involving most of the country without the Pale, and including many persons within it, was formed chiefly under the direction of a gentleman named Roger Moore, who possessed many qualities calculated to endear him to the people. Some circumstances excited the suspicion of the Protestants; and among others, the return of several officers who had been in the service of the king of Spain, under pretense of recruiting for the Spanish army. But the apparent tranquillity of the country baffled all scrutiny.

The 23d of October 1641, being a market-day, was fixed on for the capture of Dublin Castle. During the previous day, nothing had occurred to alarm the authorities. In the evening of the 22d, the conspiracy was accidentally discovered, and measures were taken to save Dublin; but a civil war raged next morning in Ulster, and speedily spread over the country.

The design of Sir Phelim O’Neill, and the other leaders of this insurrection, was simply political. They conceived the time a good and opportune one for striking a blow against the government as the Scots had successfully done; and their conduct was in the outset characterized by lenity. But they could not allay the hatred with which the Catholics looked upon their adversaries; and a spirit of revenge broke out among their followers, which was aggravated to cruel outrage, when they heard that the conspiracy was discovered in Dublin. The spirit of retaliation was let loose, and political wrongs, unfeelingly inflicted, were, as is often the case, ferociously avenged. The massacre of an immense number of Protestants held forth an awful lesson of the effects which oppressive laws produce on the human passions. The government rather aggravated than alleviated the evil, by offering the estates of all in rebellion to those who should aid in reducing them to obedience. This drove the insurgents to desperation, postponed the complete extinction of the war for several years. It is to be remarked, that though the Irish were struggling for both national and religious freedom, they gained no sympathy from the patriots of Britain, who, on the contrary, urged the king to suppress the rebellion, being afraid that a religious toleration in Ireland would be inconsistent with the same privilege in their own country. The Scottish Covenanters, themselves so recently emancipated from a restraint upon their consciences, contributed ten thousand troops to assist in restoring a similar restraint upon the Irish.

THE CIVIL WAR.

It was generally allowed by moderate people, that in the autumn of 1641, at which time the labors of the Parliament had continued one year, the king had granted redress of all the abuses for which the earlier part of his reign, and the British constitution in general, were blameable. If he could have given a guarantee that he never would seek to restore any of these abuses, or attempt to revenge himself upon the men who had been chiefly concerned in causing him to give up, there would have been no further contention. Unfortunately, the character of the king for fidelity to his engagements was not sufficiently high to induce the leaders of the House of Commons to depend upon him: they feared that if they once permitted him to resume his authority there would be no longer any safety for them; and they deemed it necessary that things should be prevented from falling into their usual current. They therefore prepared a paper called The Remonstrance, containing an elaborate view of all the grievances that had ever existed, or could now be supposed to exist; and this they not only presented to the king but disseminated widely among the people, with whom it served to increase the prevailing disaffection.

From this time it was seen that the sword could alone decide the quarrel between the king and the Parliament. Charles made an unsuccessful attempt (January 4, 1642) to seize six of the most refractory members, for the purpose of striking terror into the rest. This served to widen still further the breach. In the earlier part of 1642, the two parties severally employed themselves in preparing for war. Yet, even now, the king granted some additional concessions to his opponents. It was at last, upon a demand of the Parliament for the command of the army—​a privilege always before, and since, resting with the crown—​that he finally broke off all amicable intercourse. He now retired with his family to York.

The Parliament found its chief support in the mercantile classes of London and of the eastern coast of England, which was then more devoted to trade than the west, and in the Puritan party generally, who were allied intimately with the Presbyterians of Scotland, if not rapidly becoming assimilated with them. Charles on the other hand looked for aid to the nobility and gentry, who were able to bring a considerable number of dependents into the field. The Parliamentary party was by the other styled Roundheads, in consequence of their wearing short hair; while the friends of the Parliament bestowed upon their opponents the epithet of Malignants. The Royalists were also, in the field, termed Cavaliers, from so many of them being horsemen. On the 25th of August 1642 the king erected his standard at Nottingham, and soon found himself at the head of an army of about ten thousand men. The Parliament had superior forces, and a better supply of arms; but both parties were very ignorant of the art of war. The king commanded his own army in person, while the Parliamentary forces were put under the charge of the Earl of Essex.

The first battle took place, October 23, at Edgehill, in Warwickshire, where the king had rather the advantage, though at the expense of a great number of men. He gained some further triumphs before the end of the campaign, but still could not muster so large an army as the Parliament. During the winter, the parties opened a negotiation at Oxford; but the demands of the Parliament being still deemed too great by the king, it came to no successful issue.

Early in the ensuing season, the king gained some considerable advantages; he defeated a Parliamentary army under Sir William Waller at Stratton, and soon after took the city of Bristol. It only remained for him to take Gloucester, in order to confine the insurrection entirely to the eastern provinces. It was even thought at this time that he might have easily obtained possession of London, and thereby put an end to the war. Instead of making such an attempt, he caused siege to be laid to Gloucester, which the army of Essex relieved when it was just on the point of capitulating. As the Parliamentary army was returning to London, it was attacked by the royal forces at Newbury, and all but defeated. Another section of the royal army in the north, under the Marquis of Newcastle, gained some advantages; and, upon the whole, at the close of the campaign of 1643, the Parliamentary cause was by no means in a flourishing condition.

In this war there was hardly any respectable military quality exhibited besides courage. The Royalists used to rush upon the enemy opposed to them, without any other design than to cut down as many as possible, and when any part of the army was successful, it never returned to the field while a single enemy remained to be pursued; the consequence of which was, that one wing was sometimes victorious, while the remainder was completely beaten. The Parliamentary troops, though animated by an enthusiastic feeling of religion, were somewhat steadier, but nevertheless had no extensive or combined plan of military operations. The first appearance of a superior kind of discipline was exhibited in a regiment of horse commanded by Oliver Cromwell, a gentleman of small fortune, who had been a brewer, but was destined, by great talent, and address, joined to an unrelenting disposition, to rise to supreme authority. Cromwell, though himself inexperienced in military affairs, showed from the very first a power of drilling and managing troops, which no other man in either army seemed to possess. Hence his regiment soon became famous for its exploits.

SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT

The Royal successes of 1643 distressed alike the English Parliament and the Scottish nation, who now began to fear the loss of all the political meliorations they had wrested from the king. The two Parliaments therefore entered, in July, into a Solemn League and Covenant, for prosecuting the war in concert, with the view of ultimately settling both church and state in a manner consistent with the liberties of the people. In terms of this bond, the Scots raised an army of twenty-one thousand men, who entered England in January 1644; and on the 1st of July, in company with a large body of English forces, overthrew the king’s northern army on Long Marston Moor.

The defeat was severely felt by the king. He gained a victory over Waller at Copredy Bridge, and caused Essex’s army to capitulate in Cornwall (September 1); but in consequence of a second fight at Newbury (October 27), in which he suffered a defeat, he was left at the end of the campaign with greatly diminished resources. A new negotiation was commenced at Uxbridge; but the terms asked by the Parliament were so exorbitant, as to show no sincere desire of ending the war.

In truth, though the Presbyterian party were perhaps anxious for peace, there was another party, now fast rising into importance, who were actuated by no such wishes. These were the Independents, a body of men who wished to see a republic established in the state, and all formalties whatever removed from the national religion. Among the leaders of the party was Oliver Cromwell, whose mind seems to have already become inspired with lofty views of personal aggrandizement. This extraordinary man had sufficient address to carry a famous act called the Self-Denying Ordinance, which ostensibly aimed at depriving all members of the legislature of commands in the army, but had the effect only of displacing a few noblemen who were obnoxious to his designs. He also carried an act for modeling the army anew, in which process he took care that all who might be expected to oppose his views should be excluded. It was this party more particularly that prevented any accommodation taking place between the king and his subjects.

CONCLUSION OF THE CIVIL WAR.

The English campaign of 1645 ended in the complete overthrow of the king. Throughout the war, his enemies had been continually improving in discipline, in conduct, and in that enthusiasm which animated them so largely; while the Royalists had become, out of a mere principle of opposition, so extremely licentious, as to be rather a terror to their friends than to their enemies. The new-modeling of the Parliamentary army, which took place early in 1645, had also added much to the effectiveness of the troops, who were now nominally commanded by Sir Thomas Fairfax, but in reality by Oliver Cromwell, who bore the rank of lieutenant-general. The consequence was that, in a pitched battle at Naseby (June 14), the king was so completely beaten, that he and his party could no longer keep the field. He had no resource but to retire into Oxford, a town zealously affected to his cause, and well fortified.

He endeavored, from this forlorn position, to renew the negotiations for a peace; but every attempt of that kind was frustrated by the Independents, who, though a minority in the House of Commons, possessed great power through the army, and, as already mentioned, were desirous of effecting greater changes in church and state than those for which the war was originally undertaken. Dreading the influence of this body, Charles retired privately from Oxford (May 1646) on the approach of the Parliamentary forces, and put himself under the protection of the Scottish army at Newark.

As the views of the Scotch throughout the war had been steadily confined to the security of the Presbyterian religion, along with the safety of the king’s person and the establishment of a limited monarchy, they received him with great respect at their camp, and entered into negotiations for effecting their grand object. If Charles would have acceded to their views, he might have immediately resumed a great part of his former power; and the agitations of many subsequent years, as well as his own life, might have been spared. But this was forbidden, not only by his strong prepossession in favor of the Episcopal forms of worship, but also by his conviction, that the Episcopal form of church government was alone compatible with the existence of monarchy. He therefore disagreed with the Presbyterians on the very point which they considered the most vital and important.

From the time when Charles first threw himself into the Scottish camp, the English Parliament had made repeated and strenuous demands for the surrender of his person into their hands. The Scots, however, though acting partly as a mercenary army, asserted their right, as an independent nation under the authority of the king, to retain and protect him. At length, despairing of inducing him to sanction the Presbyterian forms, and tempted by the sum of £400,000, which was given to them as a compensation for their arrears of pay, they consented to deliver up their monarch, but certainly without any apprehension of his life being in danger, and, indeed, to a party quite different from that by which he afterwards suffered. The Scottish army then retired (January 1647) to their native country, and were there disbanded.

The king was now placed in Holdenby Castle, and negotiations were opened for restoring him to power, under certain restrictions. While these were pending, the Parliament deemed it unnecessary to keep up the army, more especially as its spirit was plainly observed to be of a dangerous character. On attempting, however, to dismiss this powerful force, the English Commons found that their late servants were become their masters. The troops began to hold something like a Parliament in their own camp; a party of them, under Cornet Joyce, seized the king’s person, and brought him to Hampton Court. Cromwell, who was at the bottom of their machinations, received from them the chief command; and at his instigation they retorted upon the Parliament with a demand for the dismissal of the leaders of the Presbyterian party, and a general right of new-modeling the government and settling the nation. The House of Commons, supported by the city of London, made a bold opposition to these demands, but was ultimately obliged to yield to a force which it had no means of resisting. From that time military violence exercised an almost uncontrolled mastery over England.

TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF THE KING.

The leaders of the army being anxious to fortify themselves by all possible means against the Presbyterians, opened a negotiation with the king, whose influence, such as it now was, they proposed to purchase, by allowing Episcopacy to be the state religion, and leaving him in command of the militia. Charles, however, with characteristic insincerity, carried on at the same time a negotiation with the Presbyterians, which, being discovered by the military chiefs, caused them to break off all terms with him. Under dread of their resentment, he made his escape from Hampton Court (November 11, 1647): and after an unsuccessful atempt to leave the kingdom, was obliged to put himself under the charge of the governor of Carisbrooke Castle, in the Isle of Wight. Here he entered upon a new negotiation with the House of Commons, to whom he made proposals, and from whom he received certain proposals in return; all of which were, however, rendered of non-avail by a secret treaty which he at the same time carried on with a moderate party of the Scottish Presbyterians.

He finally agreed with the latter party, but under strict secrecy, to give their form of church government a trial of three years, and yield to them in several other points; they, in return, binding themselves to unite their strength with the English Royalists, for the purpose of putting down the Independent party, now predominant in the English Parliament. With some difficulty the Duke of Hamilton and others, who conducted this negotiation, succeeded, by a vote of the Scottish Parliament, in raising an army of 12,000 men, with which they invaded England in the summer of 1648. The more zealous of the clergy and people of Scotland protested against an enterprise, which, from its cooperating with Royalists and Episcopalians, and not perfectly insuring the ascendancy of the Presbyterian church, appeared to them as neither deserving of success nor likely to command it. As the Scottish army penetrated the western counties, parties of Presbyterians and Royalists rose in different parts of England, and for some time the ascendancy of the Independents seemed to be in considerable peril. But before the forces of the enemy could be brought together, Cromwell, with 8000 veteran troops, attacked and overthrew Hamilton at Preston, while Fairfax put down the insurgents in Kent and Essex. Hamilton was himself taken prisoner, and very few of his troops ever returned to their native country.

While Cromwell was employed in suppressing this insurrection, and in restoring a friendly government in Scotland, the Presbyterians of the House of Commons, relieved from military intimidation, entered upon a new negotiation with Charles, which was drawing towards what appeared a successful conclusion—​though the king secretly designed to deceive them, and to pursue other means for an effectual restoration—​when the army returned to London, breathing vengeance against him for the last war, of which they considered him as the author. Finding the Parliament in the act of voting his concessions to be satisfactory, Cromwell sent two regiments, under Colonel Pride, who forcibly excluded from it about two hundred members of the Presbyterian party; a transaction remembered by the epithet of Pride’s Purge. The remainder, being chiefly Independents, were ready to give a color of law to whatever farther measure might be dictated by the military leaders. Convinced of the utter faithlessness of the king, and that, if he continued to live, he would take the earliest opportunity of revenging himself for what had already been done, Cromwell and his associates resolved to put him to death. A high court of Justice, as it was called, was appointed by ordinance, consisting of a hundred and thirty-three persons, named indifferently from the Parliament, the army, and such of the citizens as were known to be well affected to the Independent party. This body sat down in Westminster Hall (January 20, 1649), under the presidency of a barrister named Bradshaw, while another named Coke acted as solicitor for the people of England. Charles, who had been removed to St James’ Palace, was brought before this court, and accused of having waged and renewed war upon his people, and of having attempted to establish tyranny in place of the limited regal power with which he had been intrusted. He denied the authority of the court, and protested against the whole of the proceedings, but was nevertheless found guilty and condemned to die. On the 30th of January, he was accordingly beheaded in front of his palace of Whitehall.

THE COMMONWEALTH—​SUBJUGATION OF IRELAND AND SCOTLAND.

Though the execution of the king produced a considerable reaction in favor of royalty, the small remaining part of the House of Commons, which got the ridiculous name of the Rump, now established a republic, under the title of the Commonwealth, the executive being trusted, under great limitations, to a council of forty-one members, while in reality Cromwell possessed the chief influence. The House of Peers was voted a grievance, and abolished, and the people were declared to be the legitimate source of all power. Soon after the king’s death, the Duke of Hamilton, and a few other of his chief adherents, were executed.

During the progress of the civil war, Ireland had been the scene of almost ceaseless contention among the various parties of the king, the English House of Commons, and the Catholics, none of which could effectually suppress the rest. The most remarkable event was a secret agreement which Charles made, in 1646, with the Earl of Glamorgan, to establish the Catholic religion in Ireland, on condition that its partisans should assist him in putting down his enemies in England and Scotland; a transaction which ultimately injured his reputation, without leading to any solid advantage. At the time of his execution, the Royalists were in considerable strength under the Duke of Ormond, while Hugh O’Neill was at the head of a large party of Catholics, who were not indisposed to join the other party, provided they could be assured of the establishment of their religion. While the two parties in union could have easily rescued the country from the English connection, Cromwell landed (August 1649) with 12,000 horse and foot, and in a series of victories over the scattered forces of his various opponents, succeeded without any great difficulty in asserting the sway of the Commonwealth. One of his most important actions was the capture of Drogheda, where he put the garrison and a number of Catholic priests to the sword, in order to strike terror into the nation.

The people of Scotland, who had had scarcely any other object in the civil war than the establishment of their favorite form of worship, and were sincere friends to a limited monarchy, heard of the death of the king with the greatest indignation, and immediately proclaimed his eldest son Charles. Early in 1650, the young monarch, who had taken refuge in Holland, sent Montrose with a small force to attempt a Cavalier insurrection in Scotland; but this nobleman being taken and put to death, Charles found it necessary to accede to the views of the Scotch respecting the Presbyterian religion, and he was accordingly brought over and put at the head of a considerable army, though under great restrictions. Cromwell, who had now nearly completed the conquest of Ireland, lost no time in returning to London, and organizing an army for the suppression of this new attempt against the Commonwealth. On the 19th of July he crossed the Tweed, and advanced through a deserted country to Edinburgh, where the Scottish army lay in a fortified camp. Sickness in his army, and the want of provisions, soon after compelled him to retreat; and the Scottish army, following upon his rear, brought him into a straightened position near Dunbar, where he would soon have been under the necessity of surrendering. In the midst of his perplexities (September 3), he beheld the Scots advancing from the neighboring heights to give him battle, and, in a transport of joy, exclaimed ‘The Lord hath delivered them into our hands!’ The movement was solely the result of interference on the part of the clergy who followed the Scottish camp: the better sense of Gen. Leslie would have waited for the voluntary surrender of his enemy. In the fight which ensued, the veteran troops of Cromwell soon proved victorious. The Scots fled in consternation and confusion, and were cut down in thousands by their pursuers. This gained for Cromwell the possession of the capital and of all the south east provinces; but the Covenanters still made a strong appearance at Stirling.

Cromwell spent a whole year in the country, vainly endeavoring to bring on another action. During the interval (January 1, 1651), the Scots crowned the young king at Scone, part of the ceremony consisting in his acceptance of the Solemn League and Covenant. In the ensuing summer, Cromwell at length contrived to out-flank the position of the Scottish army; but the result was, that Charles led his troops into England without opposition and made a very threatening advance upon the capital. Ere the Royalists had time to rally around him, Cromwell overtook the king at Worcester, where, after a stoutly-contested fight (September 3, 1651), he proved completely victorious. Charles, with great difficulty, escaped abroad, and Scotland, no longer possessed of a military force to defend it self, submitted to the conqueror. All the courts of the Scottish church were suppressed, and the ministers were left no privilege but that of preaching to their flocks. The country was kept in check by a small army under General Monk, and in a short time was declared by proclamation to be united with England.

THE PROTECTORATE.

After the country and its dependencies had been thoroughly settled under the new government, the republican leaders resolved upon commencing hostilities against Holland, which, during the civil war, had manifested a decided leaning towards the king, and had recently treated the triumphant party with marked disrespect. In the summer of 1652, the Dutch fleet, under its famous commanders Van Tromp, De Ruyter, and De Witt, had several encounters with the English ships, under Admirals Blake and Ayscue, without any decided success on either side. But in the ensuing spring, an action was fought between Blake and Van Tromp, in which the latter lost eleven ships. The Dutch then sued for peace, which the Rump Parliament, for various reasons, were little inclined to grant. Their principal motive for prosecuting the war, was a conviction that it tended to restrict the power of Cromwell, to whom they now paid by no means a willing obedience. Cromwell, perceiving their design, proceeded with 300 soldiers to the House (April 1653), and entering with marks of the most violent indignation, loaded the members with reproaches for their robbery and oppression of the public; then stamping with his foot, he gave signal for the soldiers to enter, and addressing himself to the members, ‘For shame!’ said he; ‘get you gone! give place to honester men! I tell you you are no longer a Parliament: the Lord has done with you!’ He then commanded ‘that bauble,’ meaning the mace, to be taken away, turned out the members, and locking the door, returned to Whitehall with the key in his pocket.

Being still willing to keep up the appearance of a representative government Cromwell summoned one hundred and forty-four persons in England Ireland, and Scotland, to assemble as a Parliament. These individuals chiefly remarkable for fanaticism and ignorance, were denominated the Barebones Parliament, from the name of one of the members, a leather seller, whose assumed name, by a ridiculous usage of the age, was Praise-God Barebones. As the assembly obtained no public respect, Cromwell took an early opportunity of dismissing it. His officers then constituted him Protector of the Commonwealth of Great Britain and Ireland, with most of the prerogatives of the late king.

The war against Holland was still carried on with great spirit. In the summer of 1653, two naval actions, in which both parties fought with the utmost bravery, terminated in the triumph of the English, and the complete humiliation of the Dutch, who obtained peace on the condition of paying homage to the English flag, expelling the young king from their dominions, and paying a compensation for certain losses to the East India Company. In a war which he subsequently made against Spain, the fleets of the Protector performed some exploits of not less importance. The respect which he thus gained for the English name throughout Europe, is one of the brightest points in his singular history. But while generally successful abroad, he experienced unceasing difficulties in the management of affairs at home. Of the various Parliaments which he summoned, no one was found so carefully composed of his own creatures as to yield readily to his will: he was obliged to dissolve them all in succession, after a short trial. He also experienced great difficulty in raising money, and sometimes applied for loans in the city without success. His own officers could scarcely be kept in subordination, but were constantly plotting a reduction of his authority. The Royalists, on the other hand, never ceased to conspire for his destruction; one named Colonel Titus, went so far as to recommend his assassination in a pamphlet entitled ‘Killing no Murder,’ after reading which he was never seen again to smile.

The last Parliament called by Cromwell was in January 1656; when, besides the Commons, he summoned the few remaining peers, and endeavored, by ennobling some of his officers, to make up a kind of Upper House. This assembly proved as intractable as its predecessors, and he contracted such a disgust at the very nature of a representative legislature, as to resolve, like Charles I, never to call another. His health finally gave way, and he died on the 3d September 1658, a day which was thought to be propitious to him, as it was the anniversary of several of his victories. His eldest son, Richard, a weak young man, succeeded him as Protector, and was at first treated with all imaginable respect; but he could not long maintain a rule which even his father had ultimately failed in asserting. He quietly sunk out of public view, leaving the supreme authority in the hands of the Rump, which had taken the opportunity to reassemble.

THE RESTORATION—​DUTCH WAR.

This remnant of an old Parliament continued in power till the autumn of 1659, when it gave way to a council of the officers who had been in command under Cromwell. The latter government, in its turn, yielded to the Rump, which sat down once more in December. The people, finding themselves made the sport of a few ambitious adventurers, began to long for some more fixed and respectable kind of government. At this crisis, General Monk, commander of the forces in Scotland, conceived the design of settling the nation. He left Scotland (January 2, 1660), with a considerable army; and though he kept his thoughts scrupulously to himself, all men bent their eyes upon him, as a person destined to realize their hopes. He reached London (February 3), and was received with feigned respect by the Rump. Some resistance was attempted by Lambert, one of Cromwell’s officers, but in vain. Ere long, Monk was able to procure the restoration of the members who had been excluded from Parliament by Cromwell, who, being a majority, gave an immediate ascendancy to anti-republican views. As soon as this was effected, an act was passed for calling a new and freely-elected Parliament; after which, the existing assembly immediately dissolved itself.

The new Parliament proved to be chiefly composed of Cavaliers and Presbyterians, men agreeing in their attachment to monarchy, though differing in many other views. After some cautious procedure, in which the fears inspired by the late military tyranny were conspicuous, they agreed to invite the king from his retirement in Holland, and to restore him to the throne lost by his father. They were so glad to escape from the existing disorders, that they never thought of making any preliminary arrangement with the king as to the extent of his prerogative. On the 29th of May, being his thirtieth birthday, Charles II entered London amidst such frantic demonstrations of joy, that he could not help thinking it his own fault, as he said, that he had been so long separated from his people.

One of the first measures of the new monarch was the passing of a bill of indemnity, by which all persons concerned in the late popular movements were pardoned, excepting a few who had been prominently concerned in bringing the king to the block. Harrison, Scrope, and a few other regicides, were tried and executed; and the bodies of Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw, were raised from the grave and exhibited upon gibbets. In Scotland, only three persons suffered—​the Marquis of Argyle, Johnston of Warriston, and Mr. Guthry, a clergyman: it was considered remarkable, that the marquis had placed the crown upon the king’s head at Scone in the year 1651. Excepting in these acts, the king showed no desire of revenging the death of his father, or his own exclusion from the throne. The Parliament which called him home was constituted a legal one by his own ratification of an act for that purpose. In the settlement of other matters, it seemed the prevailing wish that all the institutions of the country should be made as nearly what they were before the civil war as possible. Thus the Episcopal church was established both in England and Scotland, though not without causing about a third of the clergy in both countries to resign their charges. The stern and enthusiastic piety which prevailed during the civil war, was now treated with ridicule, and the most of the people vied with each other in that licentious riot and drunkenness which is condemned by all systems of faith. The nation, in fact, seemed intoxicated with the safety which they supposed themselves to have at length gained, in a restoration to the imperfect freedom they enjoyed before the civil war.

Ireland, which, during the Protectorate, had been managed by Henry, a younger son of Cromwell, acceded to the Restoration with as much readiness as any other part of the British dominions. An act was passed for settling property, by which the Catholics obtained some slight benefits, but which, in its main effects, tended to confirm the rights of the settlers introduced by Cromwell.

Though Charles had been restored with the approbation of a very large portion of his subjects, his most zealous friends were the Royalists and Episcopalians; hence he almost immediately subsided into the character of a party ruler. It was deemed necessary that he should maintain an armed force for the protection of his person, and to keep down popular disturbances. He therefore caused several horse regiments to be embodied under the name of Life Guards, being chiefly composed of Royalist gentlemen upon whom a perfect dependence could be placed; and he afterwards added two or three foot regiments, the whole amounting to about 5000 men. The King paid these troops chiefly out of the money allowed for his own support, for Parliament did not sanction his keeping up such a force, and the nation generally beheld it with suspicion. This was the commencement of a standing army in England.

Personally indolent, dissolute, and deficient in conscientiousness, and surrounded almost exclusively by the ministers of the basest pleasures, Charles was not qualified to retain the sincere respect of a people whose habitual character is grave and virtuous. His extravagant expenditure soon cooled the affections of his Parliament, and he began to find considerable difficulties in obtaining money. To relieve himself from this embarrassment, he accepted £40,000 from the French king for Dunkirk, a French port, which had been acquired by Cromwell. For the same purpose, he married a Portuguese princess of the Catholic religion, who possessed a dowry of half a million. He also commenced (1664) a war against Holland, for apparently no better reason than that, in applying the Parliamentary subsidies necessary for keeping up hostilities, he might have an opportunity of converting part of the money to his own personal use.

This Dutch war was chiefly conducted by sea. On the 3d of June 1665, an English fleet of 114 sail met a Dutch one which numbered just one ship less, near Lowestoffe, and after an obstinate fight, gained a complete victory, depriving the enemy of eighteen vessels, and compelling the rest to take refuge on their own coast. The commander on this occasion was the Duke of York, the king’s younger brother; a man of greater application and more steady principles, but who soon after became unpopular, in consequence of his avowing himself a Catholic.

Some other well-contested actions took place at sea, and the English, upon the whole, confirmed their naval supremacy. Owing, however, to a failure of the supplies, the king was obliged to lay up his best vessels in ordinary, and to send only an inferior force to sea. The Dutch took advantage of this occurrence to send a fleet up the Thames (June 10, 1667), which, meeting with no adequate resistance, threatened to lay the capital in ruins and destroy its shipping. Fortunately, the Dutch admiral did not think it expedient to make this attempt, but retired with the ebb of the tide, after having sunk and burnt nearly twenty vessels, and done much other damage. The king, finding himself rather impoverished than enriched by the war, soon after concluded a peace.

PLAGUE AND FIRE OF LONDON—​PERSECUTION IN SCOTLAND.

In the meantime two extraordinary calamities had befallen the metropolis. In the summer of 1665, London was visited by a plague, which swept off about 100,000 people, and did not experience any abatement till the approach of cold weather. On this occasion the city presented a wide and heartrending scene of misery and desolation. Rows of houses stood tenantless, and open to the winds; the chief thoroughfares were overgrown with grass. The few individuals who ventured abroad, walked in the middle of the streets, and when they met, declined on opposite sides to avoid the contact of each other. At one moment were heard the ravings of delirium, or the wail of sorrow, from the infected dwelling; at another the merry song or careless laugh from the tavern, where men were seeking to drown in debauchery all sense of their awful situation. Since 1665, the plague has not again occurred in London, or in any other part of the kingdom.

The second calamity was a conflagration, which commenced on the night of Sunday the 2d of September 1666, in the eastern and more crowded part of the city. The direction and violence of the wind, the combustible nature of the houses, and the defective arrangements of that age for extinguishing fires, combined to favor the progress of the flames, which raged during the whole of the week, and burnt all the part of the city which lies between the Tower and the Temple. By this calamity, 13,200 houses and and 89 churches, covering in all 430 acres of ground, were destroyed. The flame at one time formed a column a mile in diameter, and seemed to mingle with the clouds. It rendered the night as clear as day for ten miles around the city, and is said to have produced an effect upon the sky which was observed on the borders of Scotland. It had one good effect, in causing the streets to be formed much wider than before, by which the city was rendered more healthy. By the populace, this fire was believed to have been the work of the Catholics, and a tall pillar, with an inscription to that effect, was reared in the city, as a monument of the calamity. This pillar with its inscription still exists; but the fire is now believed to have been occasioned purely by accident.

THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE—​THE FRENCH ALLIANCE.

The kingdom of France was at this period, under Louis XIV, rising into a degree of power and wealth which it had never before known. Louis had some claims through his wife upon the Netherlands (since called Belgium), which were then part of the Spanish dominions. He accordingly endeavored to posess himself of that country by force of arms. A jealousy of his increasing power, and of the Catholic religion, professed by his people, induced the English to wish that his aggressions should be restrained. To gratify them, Charles entered into an alliance with Holland and Sweden, for the purpose of checking the progress of the French king. In this object he was completely successful, and consequently he became very popular. The Parliament, however, having disappointed him of supplies, he soon after changed his policy, and with the assistance of five abandoned ministers—​Clifford, Ashley, Buckingham, Arlington, and Lauderdale, who were called the CABAL, from the initials of their names forming that word, resolved to render himself, if possible, independent of Parliament; in other words, an absolute prince. In consideration of a large bribe from Louis, he agreed to join France in a war against Holland, with a view of putting an end to that example of a Protestant republic.

War was accordingly declared in May 1672, and the naval force of England was employed in meeting that of the Dutch by sea; while Louis led a powerful army across the Rhine, and in a very short time had nearly reduced the whole of the Seven Provinces. In this emergency the Dutch could only save themselves from absolute ruin by laying a great part of their country under water. The English, who had not entered heartily into this war, soon began to be alarmed for the fate of Holland, which was almost their only support against the dread of Popery; and though forbidden under severe penalties to censure the government measures, they soon contrived to exhibit so much dissatisfaction, as to render a change of policy unavoidable.

The king found it necessary to assemble his Parliament (February 1673), and it was no sooner met than it passed some acts highly unfavorable to his designs. Among these was the famous Test Act, so called because it enacted the imposition of a religious oath upon all persons about to enter the public service, the design being to exclude the Catholics from office. Above all things, the House of Commons declared that it would grant no more supplies for the Dutch war. The king resolved to prorogue the assembly; but before he could do so, they voted the alliance with France, and several of his ministers to be grievances. Charles, who, in wishing to be absolute, had been inspired by no other motive than a desire of ease, now saw that there was a better chance of his favorite indulgence in giving way to his subjects than in any other course; and he at once abandoned all his former measures, and concluded a separate peace with Holland. This country was now beginning, under the conduct of the Prince of Orange, to make a good defense against the French, which it was the better enabled to do by obtaining the friendship of Germany and Spain. In the year 1678, after a war which, without any decisive victories, will ever reflect lustre upon Holland, a peace was concluded. The Prince of Orange, in the previous year, had married the Princess Mary, the eldest daughter of the Duke of York, and educated in the reformed faith—​an alliance which pleased the English, from its strengthening the Protestant interest, and which was destined, some years after, to bring about important results.

During the whole of this reign the corruptness of the court was very great; but it was in some measure the protection of the public. Charles spent vast sums in debauchery, and thus made himself more dependent on his Commons than he would otherwise have been. Many of the Commons were exceedingly corrupt, and all kinds of evil methods were adopted to render them more so. Bribes were distributed among them, and they were frequently closeted; that is, brought into the presence of the king individually, and personally solicited for votes. Still a considerable party maintained its purity and independence, and long kept the majority against the court.

THE RYE-HOUSE PLOT—​DEATH OF CHARLES II.

A fit of slavishness now befell the English nation, as remarkable in its extent as the late fury against the court and the Catholics. Supported by this mood of the people, Charles caused all the corporations in the kingdom to give up their old charters, and accept of new ones, by which he became all-powerful over the elections of magistrates, and consequently, over those of parliamentary representatives should ever another election of that kind take place. The leaders of the late majority in Parliament, comprising the Duke of Monmouth, Lord Russell (son of the Earl of Bedford), the Earl of Essex, Lord Howard, the famous Algernon Sydney, and John Hampden, grandson of the patriot who first resisted Charles I, being reduced to absolute despair, formed a project for raising an insurrection in London, to be supported by one in the west of England, and another under the Earl of Argyle in Scotland, and the object of which should be confined to a melioration of the government. They were betrayed by an associate named Rumsay, and implicated, by a train of unfortunate circumstances, in a plot for assassinating the king (styled the Rye-house Plot), of which they were perfectly innocent. By the execution of Russell and Sidney, and some other severities, the triumph of the king might be considered as completed. After having been an absolute sovereign for nearly four years, he died (February 6, 1685), professing himself at the last to be a Catholic, and was succeeded by the Duke of York.

Charles II was a prince of a gay and cheerful disposition, and so noted a sayer of witty things, and so addicted to humorous amusements, that he was called ‘the Merry Monarch.’ His wit, shrewdness, and good humor, form the best side of his character. On the other side, we find a deficiency of almost every active virtue and of all steady principle. He never allowed any duty of his station, or any claim upon his justice or clemency, to interfere with his own interests, or even to disturb him in his indolent and vicious pleasures. Neglecting his wife, who never had any children, he spent most of his time with his various mistresses, who openly lived at court, and were even received by the queen. Of these ladies, the most remarkable were Louisa Querouaile, whom he created Duchess of Portsmouth, and Barbara Villiers, whom he made Duchess of Cleveland. Six sons of the king by his mistresses were made dukes, and five of these were the progenitors of families in the present English nobility.

During the reign of Charles II, the nation advanced considerably in the arts of navigation and commerce; and the manufactures of brass, glass, silk, hats, and paper, were established. The post-office, set up during the Commonwealth as a means of raising money, was advanced in this reign, and the penny-post was now begun in London by a private person. Roads were greatly improved, and stage-coach traveling was commenced, though not carried to any great extent. During this reign, tea, coffee, and chocolate, which have had a great effect in improving and softening manners, were first introduced. In 1660, the Royal Society was established in London, for the cultivation of natural science, mathematics, and all useful knowledge. The science of astronomy was greatly advanced by the investigations of Flamstead and Halley. But the greatest contribution to science was made by Sir Isaac Newton, whose Principles of Natural Philosophy were published in 1683: in this work, the true theory of planetary motion was first explained, in reference to the principle of gravitation. Among the literary men of the period, the first place is to be assigned to John Milton, author of the ‘Paradise Lost’ and other poems: Samuel Butler shines as a humorous and satirical poet, and Edmund Waller as a lyrist. Amongst divines, the highest names connected with the church are those of Jeremy Taylor and Isaac Barrow; while the highest among the Nonconformists are those of Richard Baxter and John Bunyan. The theatre, which had been suppressed during the Commonwealth, was revived in this reign; but the drama exhibited less talent and more licentiousness than it did in the previous reigns. Female characters, which had formerly been acted by men, were now for the first time performed by females.

JAMES II—​EXPEDITION OF MONMOUTH.

Charles II, with all his faults, had conducted himself towards his subjects with so much personal cordiality, and had so well calculated his ground before making any aggressions upon popular liberty, that he might probably have pursued his arbitrary career for many years longer. But his brother James, though much more respectable as a man, more industrious, and more sincere, wanted entirely the easiness of carriage, pleasantry, and penetration, which were the grounds of the late king’s popularity and success. He was, moreover, an avowed Catholic, and inspired by an ardent desire of reforming the nation back into that faith. He began his reign by declaring before the privy-council his intention to govern solely by the laws, and to maintain the existing church; and such was the confidence in his sincerity, that he soon became very popular. Addresses poured in upon him from all quarters, professing the most abject devotion to his person. The Parliament called by him voted an ample revenue, and expressed the greatest servility towards him in all things. The doctrines of passive obedience, and the divine right of the sovereign, were now openly preached. The university of Oxford promulgated an elaborate declaration of passive obedience to rulers, which they declared to be ‘clear, absolute, and without any exception of any state or order of men.’

The remains of the Whig party still existed, though in exile, and there were some districts of the country where they were supposed to have considerable influence. The Duke of Monmouth and the Earl of Argyle (the latter of whom had been condemned to death in Scotland, for adding a qualification to the test-oath, but had escaped) met in Holland, and projected two separate invasions, for the purpose of expelling King James. The former soon after landed in the west of England with a small retinue, and quickly found himself at the head of 5000 persons, though irregularly armed. At several places he caused himself to be proclaimed king, which offended many of his principal adherents, as inconsistent with his previous engagements. Upon the whole, his conduct was not energetic enough for the management of such an enterprise. Being attacked by the king’s troops near Bridgewater, his infantry fought with some spirit, but being deserted by the cavalry, and by the duke himself, were obliged to give way. Monmouth was taken and executed. Many of his followers were hanged without form of trial by the royal troops, and others were afterwards put to death, with hardly any more formality, by the celebrated Chief-Justice Jefferies, whom the king sent down with a commission to try the offenders. The butchery of several hundred men of low condition, who were unable of themselves to do any harm to the government, was looked upon as a most unjustifiable piece of cruelty, even if it had been legally done; and the principal blame was popularly ascribed to the king.

The Earl of Argyle sailed in May with a corresponding expedition, and landed in that part of the West Highlands which owned his authority. Unfortunately for him, the government had received warning, and seized all the gentlemen of his clan upon whom he had chiefly depended. He nevertheless raised between 2000 and 3000 men, and made a timid advance to Glasgow, in the expectation of being joined by the persecuted Presbyterians of that part of the country. Being surrounded on the march by various parties of troops, he dispersed his army, and sought to escape in disguise, but was taken, brought to Edinburg, and executed. Thus terminated the last effort made by the Whig party to ameliorate the despotic sway of the Stuarts.

ARBITRARY MEASURES OF THE KING.

Encouraged by his success, James conceived that he might safely begin the process of changing the established religion of the country. On the plea of his supremacy over the church, he took the liberty of dispensing with the test-oath in favor of some Catholic officers, and thus broke an act which was looked upon, under existing circumstances, as the chief safeguard of the Protestant faith. His Parliament, servile as it was in temporal matters, took the alarm at this spiritual danger, and gave the king so effectual a resistance that he resorted to a dissolution. Transactions precisely similar took place in Scotland.

Heedless of these symptoms, he proclaimed a universal toleration, for the purpose of relieving the Catholics, and thus assumed the unconstitutional right of dispensing with acts of Parliament. The nation was thrown by this measure, and by the numerous promotions of Roman Catholics, into a state of great alarm; even the clergy, who had been so eager to preach an implicit obedience to the royal will, began to see that it might be productive of much danger. When James commanded that his proclamation of toleration should be read in every pulpit in the country, only two hundred of the clergy obeyed. Six of the bishops joined in a respectful petition against the order; but the king declared that document to be a seditious libel, and threw the petitioners into the Tower. In June 1688, they were tried in Westminster Hall, and to the infinite joy of the nation acquitted.

Blinded by religious zeal, the king proceeded on his fatal course. In defiance of the law, he held open intercourse with the Pope, for the restoration of Britain to the bosom of the Romish church. He called Catholic lords to the privy-council, and even placed some in the cabinet. Chapels, by his instigation, were everywhere built, and monks and priests went openly about his palace. A court of high commission—​a cruel instrument of power under Charles I—​was erected, and before this every clerical person who gave any offense to the king was summoned. He also excited great indignation, by violently thrusting a Catholic upon Magdalen College, at Oxford, as its head, and expelling the members for their resistance to his will. Public feelings was wound to the highest pitch of excitement by the queen being delivered (June 10, 1688) of a son, who might be expected to perpetuate the Catholic religion in the country, and whom many even went the length of suspecting to be a suppositious child, brought forward solely for that purpose.

The disaffection produced by these circumstances extended to every class of the king’s subjects, except the small body of Roman Catholics, many of whom could not help regarding the royal measures as imprudent. The Tories were enraged at the ruin threatened to the church of England, which they regarded as the grand support of conservative principles in the empire. The Whigs, who had already made many strenuous efforts to exclude or expel the king, were now more inflamed against him than ever. The clergy, a popular and influential body, were indignant at the injuries inflicted upon their church; and even the dissenters, though comprehended in the general toleration, saw too clearly through its motive, and were too well convinced of the illegality of its manner, and of the danger of its object, as affecting the Protestant faith, to be exempted from the general sentiment. But for the birth of the Prince of Wales, the people at large might have been contented to wait for the relief which was to be expected, after the death of the king, from the succession of the Princess of Orange, who was a Protestant, and united to the chief military defender of that interest in Europe. But this hope was now shut out, and it was necessary to resolve upon some decisive measures for the safety of the national religion.

THE REVOLUTION.

In this crisis, some of the principal nobility and gentry, with a few clergymen, united in a secret address to the Prince of Orange, calling upon him to come over with an armed force, and aid them in protecting their faith and liberties. This prince, who feared that England would soon be joined to France against the few remaining Protestant powers, and also that his prospects of the succession in that country, as nephew and son-in-law of the king, were endangered, listened readily to this call, and immediately collected a large fleet and army, comprising many individuals, natives of both Scotland and England, who had fled from the severe government of the Stuart princes. The preparations for the expedition were conducted with great secrecy, and James was partly blinded to them, by a rumor that their only object was to frighten him into a closer connection with France, in order to make him odious to his subjects. When he was at length assured by his minister in Holland that he might immediately expect a formidable invasion, he grew pale, and dropped the letter from his hands. He immediately ordered a fleet and large army to be collected, and, that he might regain the affections of his subjects, he called a parliament, and undid many of his late measures. The people justly suspected his concessions to be insincere, and were confirmed in their belief, when, on a rumor of the Prince of Orange being put back by a storm, he recalled the writs for assembling Parliament.

On the 19th of October, the Prince of Orange set sail with 50 ships of war, 25 frigates, 25 fire-ships, and 500 transports, containing 15,000 land troops. A storm occasioned some damage and delay; but he soon put to sea again, and proceeded with a fair wind along the British Channel, exhibiting from his own vessel a flag on which were inscribed the words, ‘The Protestant Religion and the Liberties of England,’ with the apposite motto of his family, ‘Je Maintiendrei—​‘I will maintain.’ As he passed between Dover and Calais, his armament was visible to crowds of spectators on both shores, whose feelings were much excited at once by its appearance and its well-known purpose. The English fleet being detained at Harwich by the same wind which was so favorable to the prince, he landed (November 5) without opposition at Torbay, and immediately proceeded to circulate a manifesto, declaring the grievances of the kingdom, and promising, with the support of the people, to redress them.

At the first there seemed some reason for fear that the prince would not meet with adequate support. On his march to Exeter, and for eight days after arriving there, he was not joined by any person of consequence. The nation, however, soon became alive to the necessity of giving him encouragement. The gentry of Devon and Somersetshires formed an association in his behalf. The Earls of Bedford and Abingdon, with other persons of distinction, repaired to his quarters at Exeter. Lord Delamere took arms in Cheshire; the city of York was siezed by the Earl of Danby; the Earl of Bath, governor of Plymouth, declared for the prince; and the Earl of Devonshire made a like declaration in Derby. Every day discovered some new instance of that general confederacy into which the nation had entered against the measures of the king. But the most dangerous symptom, and that which rendered his affairs desperate, was the spirit which he found to prevail in his army. On his advancing at its head to Salisbury, he learned that some of the principal officers had gone over to the Prince of Orange. Lord Churchill (afterwards famous as Duke of Marlborough), Lord Trelawney, and the king’s son-in-law, George, Prince of Denmark, successively followed this example. Even his daughter, the Princess Anne, deserted him. In great perplexity, he summoned a council of peers, by whose advice writs were issued for a new Parliament, and commissioners despatched to treat with the prince. A kind of infatuation now took possession of the king; and having sent the queen and infant prince privately to France, he quitted the capital at midnight, almost unattended, for the purpose of following them, leaving orders to recall the writs and disband the army. By this procedure, the peace of the country was imminently endangered; but it only served to hasten the complete triumph of the Prince of Orange, who had now advanced to Windsor. The supreme authority seemed on the point of falling into his hands, when, to his great disappointment, the king, having been discovered at Feversham, in Kent, was brought back to London, not without some marks of popular sympathy and affection. There was no alternative but to request the unfortunate monarch to retire to a country-house, where he might await the settlement of affairs. James, finding his palaces taken possession of by Dutch guards, and dreading assassination, took the opportunity to renew his attempt to leave the kingdom. He proceeded on board a vessel in the Medway, and after some obstructions, arrived safely in France, where Louis readily afforded him an asylum.

The same day that the king left Whitehall for the last time, his nephew and son-in-law arrived at St. James’. The public bodies immediately waited on him, to express their zeal for his cause; and such of the members of the late Parliaments as happened to be in town, having met by his invitation, requested him to issue writs for a convention, in order to settle the nation. He was in the same manner, and for the same purpose, requested to call a convention in Scotland. The English convention met on the 22d of January 1689, and during its debates the prince maintained a magnanimous silence and neutrality. The Tory party, though it had joined in calling him over, displayed some scruples respecting the alteration of the succession, and seemed at first inclined to settle the crown on the princess, while William should have only the office of regent; but when this was mentioned to the prince, he calmly replied, that in that event, he should immediately return to Holland. A bill was then passed, declaring that ‘James II, having endeavored to subvert the constitution, by breaking the original contract between the king and the people, and having withdrawn himself from the kingdom, has abdicated the government; and that the throne is thereby become vacant.’ To the bill was added a Declaration of Rights—​namely, an enumeration of the various laws by which the royal prerogative and the popular liberties had formerly been settled, but which had been violated and evaded by the Stuart sovereigns. William and Mary, having expressed their willingness to ratify this declaration, were proclaimed king and queen jointly—​the administration to rest in William; and the convention was then converted into a Parliament.

In Scotland, where the Presbyterians had resumed an ascendancy, the convention came to a less timid decision. It declared that James, by the abuse of his power, had forfeited all right to the crown—​a decision also affecting his posterity: and William and Mary were immediately after proclaimed. By a bill passed in the English Parliament, the succession was settled upon the survivor of the existing royal pair; next upon the Princess Anne and her children; and finally, upon the children of William by any other consort—​an arrangement in which no hereditary principle was overlooked, except that which would have given a preference to James and his infant son.

By the Revolution, as this great event was styled, it might be considered as finally decided that the monarchy was not a divine institution, superior to human challenge, as the late kings had represented it, but one dependent on the people, and established and maintained for their benefit.

RESISTANCE IN SCOTLAND AND IRELAND.

The new government was at first extremely popular in Scotland; but one portion of the people was much opposed to it. This consisted of the Highland clans—​a primitive race, unable to appreciate the rights which had been gained, prepossessed in favor of direct hereditary succession, and of such warlike habits, that though a minority, they were able to give no small trouble to the peaceful Lowlanders. When the Scottish convention was about to settle the crown on William and Mary, Viscount Dundee, formerly Graham of Claverhouse, and celebrated for his severity upon the recusant Presbyterians, raised an insurrection in the Highlands in favor of King James, while the Duke of Gordon, a Catholic, still held out Edinburgh Castle in the same interest. It was with no small difficulty that the new government could obtain the means of reducing these opponents. The castle, after a protracted siege, was given up in June (1689). General Macky was despatched by William, with a few troops, to join with such forces as he could obtain in Scotland, and endeavor to suppress the insurrection in the Highlands. He encountered Dundee at Killiecrankie (July 27), and, though his troops were greatly superior in number and discipline, experienced a complete defeat. Dundee, however, fell by a musket-shot in the moment of victory, and his army was unable to follow up its advantage. In a short time the Highland clans were induced to yield a nominal obedience to William and Mary.

In Ireland, a much more formidable resistance was offered to the revolution settlement. Since the accession of James, the Romish faith might be described as virtually predominent in that kingdom. The laws against Catholics had been suspended by the royal authority, all public offices were filled by them, and though the established clergy were not deprived of their benefices, very little tithe was paid to them. The viceregal office was held by the Earl of Tyrconnel, a violent and ambitious young man, disposed to second the king in all his imprudent measures, and resolved, in the event of their failing, to throw the country into the hands of the French. The people at large being chiefly Catholics, were warmly attached to the late sovereign, whose cause they regarded as their own.

Early in the spring of 1689, James proceeded from France to Ireland, where he was soon at the head of a large though ill-disciplined army. He immediately ratified an act of the Irish Parliament for annulling that settlement of the Protestants upon the lands of Catholics, which had taken place in the time of Cromwell, and another for attainting 2000 persons of the Protestant faith. The Protestants, finding themselves thus dispossessed of what they considered their property, and exposed to the vengeance of a majority over whom they had long ruled, fled to Londonderry, Inniskillen, and other fortified towns, where they made a desperate resistance, in the hope of being speedily succoured by King William. That sovereign now led over a large army to Ireland, and (July 1) attacked the native forces under his father-in-law at the fords of the river Boyne, near the village of Dunore, where he gained a complete victory.

James was needlessly dispirited by this disaster, and lost no time in sailing again to France. In reality, the Irish made a better appearance, and fought more vigorously, after the battle of the Boyne than before it. The Duke of Berwick, a natural son of James, and the Earl of Tyrconnel, still kept the field with a large body of cavalry, and the infantry were in the meantime effectually protected in the town of Limerick. William invested this town, and in one assault upon it lost 2000 men, which so disheartened him, that he went back to England, leaving his officers to prosecute the war. The Irish army afterwards fought a regular battle at Aghrim, when partly owing to the loss of their brave leader, St. Ruth, they were totally routed. The remains of the Catholic forces took refuge in Limerick, where they finally submitted in terms of a treaty which seemed to secure the Catholic population in all desirable rights and privileges.

REIGN OF WILLIAM III.

Though all military opposition was thus overcome, William soon found difficulties of another kind in the management of the state. The Tories, though glad to save the established church by calling in his interference, had submitted with no good grace to the necessity of making him king; and no sooner was the danger past, than their usual principles of hereditary right were in a great measure revived. From the name of the exiled monarch, they now began to be known by the appellation of Jacobites. James’ hopes of a restoration were thus for a long time kept alive, and the peace of William’s mind was so much embittered, as to make his sovereignty appear a dear purchase. Perhaps the only circumstances which reconciled the king to his situation, was the great additional force he could now bring against the ambitious designs of Louis XIV. Almost from his accession he entered heartily into the combination of European powers for checking this warlike prince, and conducted military operations against him every summer in person. The necessity of having supplies for that purpose rendered him unfit, even if he had been willing, to resist any liberal measures proposed to him in Parliament, and hence his passing of the famous Triennial Act in 1694, by which it was appointed that a new Parliament should be called every third year. In this year died Queen Mary, without offspring; after which William reigned as sole monarch.

The peace of Ryswick, concluded in 1697, by which the French power was confined to the limits, permitted William to spend the concluding years of his reign in peace. In 1700, in consideration that he and his sister-in-law Anne had no children, the famous Act of Succession was passed, by which the crown, failing these two individuals, was settled upon the next Protestant heir, Sophia, Duchess of Hanover, daughter of Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of James I.

The reign of King William is remarkable for the first legal support of a standing army, and for the commencement of the national debt. It is also distinguished by the first establishment of regular banks for the deposit of money, and the issue of a paper currency. Formerly, the business of banking, as far as necessary, was transacted by goldsmiths, or through the medium of the public Exchequer, by which plans the public was not sufficiently insured against loss. In 1695, the first public establishment for the purpose, the Bank of England, was established by one William Paterson, a scheming Scotsman; and next year the Bank of Scotland was set on foot by one Holland, an English merchant. The capital in the former case being only £1,200,000, and in the latter, the tenth part of that sum.

In the reign of King William flourished Sir William Temple, an eminent political and philosophical writer, to whom is usually assigned the honor of first composing the English language in the fluent and measured manner which afterwards became general. The most profound philosophical writer of the age was John Locke, author of an Essay on the Human Understanding, an Essay on Toleration, and other works. Bishop Tillotson stands high as a writer of elegant sermons. The greatest name in polite literature is that of John Dryden, remarkable for his energetic style of poetry, and his translations of Virgil and Juvenal.

QUEEN ANNE—​MARLBOROUGH’S CAMPAIGNS.

William was succeeded by his sister-in-law, Anne, second daughter of the late James II; a princess now thirty-eight years of age, and chiefly remarkable for her zealous attachment to the church of England. The movement against the king of France had not been confined to Great Britain; it was a combination of that power with the emperor of Germany and the states of Holland. Queen Anne found it necessary to maintain her place in the Grand Alliance, as it was termed; and the Duke of Marlborough was sent over to the continent with a large army to prosecute the war in conjunction with the allies. Now commenced that career of military glory which has rendered the reign of Anne and the name of Marlborough so famous. In Germany and Flanders, under this commander, the British army gained some signal successes, particularly those of Blenheim and Ramillies; in Spain, a smaller army, under the chivalrously brave Earl of Peterborough, performed other services of an important kind. The war, however, was one in which Britain had no real interest—​for it has been seen that Spain has continued under a branch of the House of Bourbon without greatly endangering other states.

A party, consisting chiefly of Tories, endeavored, in 1706, to put an end to the war; and France was so much reduced in strength, as to concede all the objects for which the contest had been commenced. But the people were so strongly inspired with a desire of humiliating France, which in commerce and religion they considered their natural enemy, that some ambitious statesmen of a contrary line of politics were enabled to mar the design of a treaty. Among these was the Duke of Marlborough, who, being permitted to profit not only by his pay, but by perquisites attached to his command, wished the war to be protracted, merely that he might make his enormous wealth a little greater. It was in consequence of these unnecessary interferences with continental politics, urged chiefly by the people, and by a class of statesmen popular at the time, that the first large sums of the national debt were contracted.

UNION OF ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND.

Since their religious enthusiasm had been laid at rest by the Revolution Settlement, the Scottish people had been chiefly animated by a desire of participating in the commerce of England. The treatment of their expedition to Darien had now inspired them with a bitter feeling against their southern neighbors, and they resolved to show their power of counter-annoyance by holding up threats of dissenting from England in the matter of the succession. In 1703, their Parliament passed the famous Act of Security, by which it was ordained that the successor of her majesty in Scotland should not be the same with the individual adopted by the English Parliament, unless there should be a free communication of trade between the countries, and the affairs of Scotland thoroughly secured from English influence. Another act was at the same time passed for putting the nation under arms. The English ministers then saw that an incorporating union would be necessary to prevent the Pretender from gaining the Scottish crown, and to protect England from the attacks of a hostile nation. For this purpose they exerted themselves so effectually in the Scottish Parliament, as to obtain an act, enabling the queen to nominate commissioners for the arrangement of a union. The men appointed, thirty on each side, were, with hardly an exception, the friends of the court and of the Revolution Settlement; and the treaty accordingly was drawn up without difficulty.

In October 1706, this document was submitted to the Scottish Parliament, and was found to contain the following principal points:—​That the two nations were to be indissolubly united under one government and legislature, each, however, retaining its own civil and criminal law; the crown to be in the House of Hanover; the Scottish Presbyterian church to be guaranteed; forty-five members to be sent by the Scottish counties and burghs to the House of Commons, and sixteen elective peers to be sent to the Upper House by the nobles; the taxes to be equalized, but, in consideration of the elevation of the Scotch imposts to the level of the English (for the latter people already owed sixteen millions), an equivalent was to be given to Scotland, amounting to nearly four hundred thousand pounds, which was to aid in renewing the coin, and other objects. These terms were regarded in Scotland as miserably inadequate; and the very idea of the loss of an independent legislature and a place among governments, raised their utmost indignation. Nevertheless, by dint of bribery, the union was carried through Parliament; and from the 1st of May 1707, the two countries formed one state, under the title of the Kingdom of Great Britain.

PEACE OF UTRECHT—​DEATH OF QUEEN ANNE.

The members of the cabinet applied themselves, though very secretly, to the business of bringing about a peace. When their plans were matured, the consent of the House of Commons was easily gained; but the Lords having shown some reluctance, it was found necessary to create twelve new peers, in order to overpower the sense of that part of the legislature. After a tedious course of negotiation, Britain and Holland concluded a peace at Utrecht (1713), leaving the emperor of Germany still at war. By this arrangement, Philip V was permitted to retain Spain and the Indies, but no other part of the dominions which his ambitious grandfather had endeavored to secure for him; and it was provided that he and his descendants should never inherit the kingdom of France, nor any future king of France accede to the crown of Spain. Britain obtained nothing tangible by all her exertions, except the possession of Gibraltar and Minorca, and the privilege of being exclusively employed to carry slaves to the Spanish American colonies. It has justly been considered a stain upon the nation, that it should have concluded a separate peace under such clandestine circumstances, as the interests of the other belligerent parties were thereby greatly injured. For the gratification of their High Church supporters, the ministers obtained an act for preventing dissenters from keeping schools, and another for establishing church patronage in Scotland, the former of which was repealed in the following reign.

It is believed that Queen Anne and her Tory ministers were in secret willing to promote the restoration of the main line of the Stuart family, and Harley and St. John are now known to have intrigued for that purpose. But before any plan could be formed, the queen took suddenly ill and died (August 1, 1714), when the ministers had no alternative but to proceed according to the Act of Settlement. The Electress Sophia being recently dead, her son, the elector, was proclaimed under the title of George I.

The reign of Queen Anne is not more distinguished by the wonderful series of victories gained by Marlborough, than by the brilliant list of literary men who now flourished, and who have caused this to be styled the Augustan age of English literature, as resembling that of the Roman Emperor Augustus. Alexander Pope stands unrivaled in polished verse on moral subjects. Jonathan Swift is a miscellaneous writer of singular vigor and an extraordinary kind of humor. Joseph Addison wrote on familiar life and on moral and critical subjects with a degree of elegance before unknown. Sir Richard Steele was a lively writer of miscellaneous essays. This last author, with assistance from Addison and others, set on foot the ‘Tatler,’ ‘Spectator,’ and ‘Guardian,’ the earliest examples of small periodical papers in England, and which continue to this day to be regarded as standard works. Cibber, Congreve, Vanburgh, and Farquhar, were distinguished writers of comedy; and Prior, Philips, and Rowe, were pleasing poets. In graver literature, this age is not less eminent. Dr. Berkeley shines as a metaphysician; Drs. Sherlock, Atterbury, and Clark as divines; and Bentley as a critic of the Roman classics.

ACCESSION OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER—​REBELLION OF 1715–16.

The new sovereign lost no time in coming over to Britain, and fixing himself in that heritage which his family has ever since retained. He was fifty-four years of age, of a good, though not brilliant understanding, and very firm in his principles. Knowing well that the whigs were his only true friends, he at once called them into the administration. It was the custom of that period for every party, on getting into power, to try to annihilate their opponents. Not only were the whole Tory party insulted by the king, but a committee of the House of Commons was appointed to prepare articles of impeachment against Oxford, Bolingbroke, the Duke of Ormond, and the earl of Strafford. Bolingbroke, perceiving his life to be in danger, fled to the continent; and his attainder was in consequence moved and carried by his rival Walpole. Ormond suffered a similar fate. Oxford, after a protracted trial, was only saved in consequence of a differance between the Lords and Commons.

During the first year of King George, the Tories kept up very threatening popular disturbances in favor of High Church principles; but the Whigs, gaining a majority in the new House of Commons, were able to check this a little by the celebrated enactment called the Riot Act, which permits military force to be used in dispersing a crowd, after a certain space of time has been allowed. Disappointed in their hopes of office and power, and stung by the treatment of their leaders, the Tories resolved to attempt bringing in the Pretender by force of arms. With an eager hopefulness, which for a long time was characteristic of the party, they believed that all England and Scotland were ready to take up arms for the Pretender, when in reality there was but a limited portion of the people so inclined, and that portion unwilling to move if they saw the least risk or danger. Blind to these circumstances, and without design or concert, they commenced the unfortunate civil war of 1715.

The Earl of Mar, who had been a secretary of state in the late administration, raised his standard in Braemar (September 6), without any commission from the Pretender, and was soon joined by Highland clans to the amount of 10,000 men, who rendered him master of all Scotland north of the Forth. There, however, he weakly permitted himself to be cooped up by the Duke of Argyle, who with a far less numerous force, had posted himself at Stirling. Mar expected to be supported by an invasion of England by the Duke of Ormond, and a rising of the people of that country. But the Duke completely failed in his design, and no rising took place, except in Northumberland. There Mr. Foster, one of the members of Parliament for the county, and the Earl of Derwentwater, with some other nobleman, appeared in arms, but unsupported by any considerable portion of the people. Mar detached a party of 1800 foot, under Mackintosh of Borlum, to join the Northumbrian insurgents, who complained that they had no infantry. The junction was managed with great address; and at the same time some noblemen and gentlemen of the south of Scotland attached themselves to the southern army. The government was ill provided with troops but it nevertheless sent such a force against Mr. Foster, as obliged him to retire with his men into the town of Preston, in Lancashire, where, after an obstinate defense, the whole party (November 13) surrendered themselves prisoners at the king’s mercy. On the same day, the Earl of Mar met the Duke of Argyle at Sheriffmuir, near Dumblane, where a battle was fought, in which, after the manner of the battles in the civil war, the right wing of each army was successful, but neither altogether victorious. The Duke withdrew in the face of his enemy to Stirling, and the earl retired to Perth, resolved to wait for the news of an invasion from France, and for the arrival of the Pretender, whom he had invited to Scotland.

Mar did not for some time become aware how little reason he had to expect support from France. Louis XIV, upon whom the hopes of the party greatly rested, had died in September, leaving the government to the Regent Orleans, who had strong personal reasons for wishing to cultivate the good-will of the British monarch, and of course declined to assist in the present enterprise. The Pretender, nevertheless, sailed for Scotland, and on the 22d of December, arrived incognito at Peterhead, bringing nothing but his person to aid his adherents. Mar, who had already attempted to negotiate a submission to the government, brought him forward to Perth, where he was amused for some time with preparations for his coronation. But before he had been many days there, the Duke of Argyle found himself in a condition to advance against the insurgent force; and on the 30th of January 1716, this unfortunate prince commenced a retreat to the north, along with his dispirited army. On the 4th of February, he and the Earl of Mar provided for their own safety by going on board a vessel at Montrose, and setting sail for France: the army dispersed itself into the Highlands. For this unhappy appearance in arms, the Earl of Derwentwater, Viscount Kenmure, and about twenty inferior persons, were executed; forty Scottish families of the first rank lost their estates, and many excellent members of society became exiles for the remainder of their lives.

The suppression of this insurrection, and the ruin of so many Tory leaders, tended to increase the power of the Whig party, and the stability of the Hanoverian dynasty. The government, nevertheless, acted under considerable difficulties, as they were opposed by the majority of the clergy and country gentry, as well as by the whole of the mob feeling, except in the large commercial towns. To avoid the hazard of too often appealing to the people, they carried, in 1716, a bill for repealing King William’s Triennial Act, and protracting the present and all future Parliaments to a duration of seven years. The chief popular support of the government was in the dissenters, and in the middle classes of the community.

From the peace of Utrecht, Britain remained free from foreign war for nearly thirty years, excepting that, in 1719, the ministry was called on to interfere for the repression of an attempt on the part of Spain to regain her Italian territories.

GEORGE II—​WAR WITH SPAIN.

George I, at his death in 1727, was succeeded by his son, George II, a prince of moderate abilities, but conscientious, and free from all gross faults. In the early part of his reign, Walpole effected some useful measures, and upon the whole was a vigorous and enlightened administrator of public affairs, though nothing can justify the extensive system of bribery by which alone he pretended to manage the House of Commons. After a peace of extraordinary duration, he was urged, much against his will, into a contest with Spain, on account of some efforts made by that country to check an illicit trade carried on by British merchants in its American colonies.

REBELLION OF 1745–46.

The Pretender had married, in 1719, the Princess Clementina Sobieski of Poland, and was now the father of two sons in the bloom of youth, the the elder of whom has been distinguished in history by the title of Prince Charles Stuart. The misfortunes of the British arms on the continent, and the dissensions which prevailed among the people and the Parliament, encouraged this prince to make an attempt to recover the throne of his ancestors. In 1744, he had been furnished by France with a large fleet and ample stores to invade the British dominions, but had been driven back by a storm, and prevented from again setting sail by a superior fleet under Sir John Norris. Though the French monarch would not grant him any further supply, Charles resolved to make the proposed attempt, trusting solely to the generosity and valor of his friends in Britain. He therefore landed from a single vessel, with only seven attendants, on the coast of Inverness-shire, where the clans most attached to his family chiefly resided. By merely working upon the ardent feelings of the Highland chiefs, he soon induced several of them to take up arms, among whom were Locheil, Clanranald, Glengarry, and Keppoch.

On the 19th of August 1745 he raised his standard at Glenfinnan, within a few miles of the government station of Fort William, and found himself surrounded by about 1500 men. The government was at first inclined to disbelieve the intelligence of these proceedings, but was soon obliged to take steps for its own defense. A reward of thirty thousand pounds was offered for the head of the young prince, who with all his family, was under attainder by act of Parliament; and Sir John Cope, commander of the forces in Scotland, was ordered to advance with what troops he had into the Highlands, and suppress the insurrection. Cope proceeded on this mission with about 1400 infantry; but on finding the Highlanders in possession of a strong post near Fort Augustus, he thought it necessary to go aside to Inverness. Charles, taking advantage of this ill-advised movement, immediately poured his motley followers down into the Lowlands, gaining accessions everywhere as he advanced; and there being no adequate force to oppose him, he took possession successively of Perth and Edinburgh.

Cope now transported his troops back to Lothian by sea, and on the 21st September, a rencontre took place between him and Charles at Prestonpans. Seized with a panic, the royal troops fled disgracefully from the field, leaving the prince a complete victory. With the lustre thus acquired by his arms, he might have now, with four or five thousand men, made a formidable inroad into England. Before he could collect such a force, six weeks passed away, and when at length (November 1) he entered England, a large body of troops had been collected to oppose him. After a bold advance to Derby, he was obliged by his friends to turn back. At Stirling he was joined by considerable reinforcements, and on the 17th of January 1746, a battle took place at Falkirk between him and General Hawley, each numbering about 8000 troops. Here Charles was again successful; but he was unable to make any use of his victory, and soon after found it necessary to withdraw his forces to the neighborhood of Inverness, where he spent the remainder of the winter. The Duke of Cumberland now put himself at the head of the royal troops, which had been augmented by 6000 auxiliaries under the Prince of Hesse. During the months of February and March, the Highland army was cooped up within its own territory by the Hessians at Perth, and the royal troops at Aberdeen. At length, April 16, Prince Charles met the English army in an open moor at Culloden, near Inverness, and experienced a total overthrow. He had himself the greatest difficulty in escaping from the country, and the Highlands were subjected for several months to the horrors of military violence in all its worst forms.

GEORGE III—​BUTE ADMINISTRATION—​PEACE OF 1763.

Soon after his accession, George III espoused the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, by whom he had a large family. One of his earliest political measures was to confer one of the state-secretaryships upon the Earl of Bute, a Scottish nobleman of Tory or Jacobite predilections, who had been his preceptor, and possessed a great influence over his mind. This, with other alterations, infused a peaceful disposition into his majesty’s counsels, which was not much relished by Mr. Pitt. That minister, having secretly discovered that Spain was about to join France against Britain, and being thwarted in the line of policy, which he consequently thought it necessary to assume, retired with a pension, and a peerage to his wife; after which the ministry was rendered still less of a warlike temper. A negotiation for peace was entered into with France, which offered, for that end, to give up almost all her colonial possessions. The demands of the British were, however, rather more exorbitant than France expected, and not only was the treaty broken off, but Spain commenced those hostilities which Mr. Pitt had foretold. Nevertheless, Britain continued that splendid career of conquest, which, except at the beginning, had been her fortune during the whole of this war. In a very few months Spain lost Havana, Manilla, and all the Philippine Isles. The Spanish forces were also driven out of Portugal, which they had unjustly invaded. At sea the British fleets reigned everywhere triumphant, and at no former period was the country in so proud a situation. The ministry, however, were sensible that war, even with all this good fortune, was a losing game; and they therefore, much against the will of the nation, concluded a peace in February 1763.

By this treaty Great Britain gave up a certain portion of her conquests, in exchange for others which had been wrested from her; but she was nevertheless a gainer to an immense amount. She acquired from the French, Canada, that part of Louisiana east of the Mississippi, Cape Breton, Senegal, the islands of Grenada, Dominica, St. Vincent’s, and Tobago, with all the acquisitions which the French had made upon the Coromandel coast in the East Indias since 1749. From Spain she acquired Minorca, East and West Florida, with certain privileges of value. The continental states in alliance with Great Britain were also left as they had been. These advantages on the part of Great Britain had been purchased at the expense of an addition of sixty millions to the national debt, which now amounted in all to £133,959,270.

Since the accession of the Brunswick family in 1714, the government had been chiefly conducted by the Whig party, who formed a very powerful section of the aristocracy of England. Walpole, Pelham, Newcastle, and Pitt, had all ruled chiefly through the strength of this great body, who, till the period subsequent to the rebellion of 1745, seem to have had the support of the most influential portion of the people. After that period, when the Stuart claims ceased to have any effect in keeping the crown in check, a division appears to have grown up between the government and the people, which was manifested in various forms even before the demise of George II, but broke out in a very violent manner during the early years of his successor’s reign. George III, who had imbibed high notions of the royal prerogative from the Earl of Bute, showed, from the beginning of his career, an anxious desire to extend the power of the crown, to shake off the influence of the great Whig families, and keep popular force of all kinds within strict limits.

A stranger, with no connection in the country, a favorite, and, moreover, a man of unprepossessing manners, the Earl of Bute had neither the support of the aristocracy nor of the people. He was assailed in Parliament, and through the newspapers, with the most violent abuse—​the unpopular peace furnishing a powerful topic against him. To this storm he at length yielded, by retiring (April 8, 1763).

AMERICAN STAMP ACT.

The administration of Mr. Grenville is memorable for the first attempt to tax the American colonies. An act passed under his influence (March 1765) for imposing stamps on those countries, appeared to the colonists as a step extremely dangerous to their liberties, considering that they had no share in the representation. They therefore combined almost universally to resist the introduction of the stamped paper by which the tax was to be raised. Resolutions were passed in the various assemblies of the States, protesting against the assumed right of the British legislature to tax them. Partly by popular violence, and partly by the declarations issued by the local legislative assemblies, the object of the act was completely defeated.

The home government were then induced to agree to the repeal of the act, but with the reservation of a right to impose taxes on the colonies. Between the Stamp Act and its repeal, a change had taken place in the administration: the latter measure was the act of a Whig ministry under the Marquis of Rockingham, which, however, did not long continue in power, being supplanted by one in which Mr. Pitt, now created Earl of Chatham, held a conspicuous place. The second Pitt administration was less popular than the first: the Earl of Chesterfield, reflecting on the title conferred on the minister, at the same time that he sunk in general esteem, called his rise a fall up stairs. All the ministries of this period labored under a popular suspicion, probably not well founded, that they only obeyed the will of the sovereign, while the obnoxious Earl of Bute, as a secret adviser behind the throne, was the real, though irresponsible minister.

At the suggestion of Mr. Charles Townshend, a member of the Earl of Chatham’s cabinet, it was resolved, in 1767, to impose taxes on the Americans in a new shape; namely, upon British goods imported into the colonies, for which there was some show of precedent. An act for imposing duties on tea, glass, and colors, was accordingly passed with little opposition. Soon after this, Mr. Townshend died, and the Earl of Chatham, who had been prevented by illness from taking any share in the business, resigned. The Americans met the new burdens with the same violent opposition as formerly.

In 1770, the Duke of Grafton retired from the cabinet, and his place was supplied by Lord North, son of the Earl of Guilford. The new ministry was the tenth which had existed during as many years, but the first in which the king might be considered as completely free of the great Whig families, who, by their parliamentary influence, had possessed the chief power since the Revolution. This was the beginning of a series of Tory administrations, which, with few and short intervals, conducted the affairs of the nation down to the close of the reign of George IV.

THE AMERICAN WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

Meanwhile the remonstrances of the American colonists had induced the ministry to give up all the new taxes, with the exception of that on tea, which it was determined to keep up, as an assertion of the right of Parliament to tax the colonies. In America, this remaining tax continued to excite as much discontent as the whole had formerly done, for it was the principle of a right to impose taxes which they found fault with, and not the amount of the tax itself. Their discontent with the mother country was found to affect trade considerably, and the British merchants were anxious to bring the dispute to a close. The government was then induced to grant such a drawback from the British duty on tea, as enabled the East India Company to offer the article in America at a lower rate than formerly, so that the American duty, which was only three pence per pound, did not affect the price. It was never doubted that this expedient would satisfy the colonists, and large shipments of tea were accordingly sent out from the British ports. The principle of the right to tax still lurked, however under the concession, and the result only showed how little the sentiments of the Americans were understood at home.

The approach of the tea cargoes excited them in a manner totally unlooked-for in Britain. At New York and Philadelphia, the cargoes were forbidden to land; in Charleston, where they were permitted to land, they were put into stores, and were prohibited from being sold. In Boston harbor, a ship-load was seized and tossed into the sea. This last act was resented by the passing of a bill in Parliament for interdicting all commercial intercourse with the port of Boston, and another for taking away the legislative assembly of the state of Massachusetts. The former measure was easily obviated by local arrangements; and in reference to the latter, a Congress of representatives from the various States met at Philadelphia, in September 1774, when it was asserted that the exclusive power of legislation, in all cases of taxation and internal policy, resided in the provincial legislatures. The same assembly denounced other grievances, which have not here been particularly adverted to, especially an act of the British legislature for trying Americans, for treasonable practices, in England. The Congress also framed a covenant of non-intercourse, by which the whole utility of the colonies to the mother country, as objects of trading speculation, was at once laid prostrate. The colonists still avowed a desire to be reconciled, on the condition of a repeal of the obnoxious statutes. But the government had now resolved to attempt the reduction of the colonists by force of arms. Henceforth, every proposal from America was treated with a haughty silence on the part of the British monarch and his advisers.

The war opened in the summer of 1775, by skirmishes between the British troops and armed provincials, for the possession of certain magazines. At the beginning there seemed no hope of the contest being protracted beyond one campaign. The population of the colonies was at this time under three millions, and they were greatly inferior in discipline and appointments to the British troops. They possessed, however, an indomitable zeal in the cause they had agreed to defend, and fought with the advantage of being in the country of their friends. At Bunker’s Hill, near Boston (June 17, 1775), they had the superiority in a well-contested fight with the British troops, of whom between two and three hundred were killed. At the end of one year, the British government was surprised to find that no progress had been made towards a reduction of the Americans, and sent out an offer of pardon to the colonists, on condition that they would lay down their arms. This proposal only met with ridicule.

On the 4th of July 1776, the American Congress took the decisive step of a declaration of their independence, embodying their sentiment in a document remarkable for its pathos and solemnity. During the next two campaigns, the slender forces of the new republic were hardly able anywhere to face the large and well-appointed armies of Great Britain. Much misery was endured by this hardy people in resisting the British arms. Notwithstanding every disadvantage and many defeats, America remained unsubdued.

The first serious alarm for the success of the contest in America, was communicated in December 1777, by intelligence of the surrender of an army under General Burgoyne at Saratoga. In the House of Commons, the ministers acknowledged this defeat with marks of deep dejection, but still professed to entertain sanguine hopes from the vigor with which the large towns throughout Britain were now raising men at their own expense for the service of the government. Mr. Fox, the leader of the Opposition, made a motion for the discontinuance of the war, which was lost by 165 to 259, a much narrower majority than any which the ministry had before reckoned in the Lower House.

In proportion to the dejection of the government, was the elation of the American Congress. Little more than two years before, the British sovereign and ministers had treated the petitions of the colonists with silent contempt; but such had been the current of events, that, in 1778, they found it necessary, in order to appease the popular discontent, to send out commissioners, almost for the purpose of begging a peace. As if to avenge themselves for the indignities of 1775, the Americans received these commissioners with the like haughtiness; and being convinced that they could secure their independence, would listen to no proposals in which the acknowledgment of that independence, and the withdrawal of the British troops, did not occupy the first place. The ministers, unwilling to submit to such terms, resolved to prosecute the war, holding forth to the public, as the best defense of their conduct, the necessity of curbing the spirit of insubordination, both in the American colonies and at home, which they described as threatening the overturn of the most sacred of the national institutions.

The rise of Great Britain during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in wealth and military and naval power, had been observed by many of the surrounding states with no small degree of jealousy. France in particular, had not yet forgiven the triumphant peace which Britain had dictated in 1763. The Americans, therefore, by their emissary, the celebrated Benjamin Franklin, found no great difficulty in forming an alliance with France, in which the latter power acknowledged the independence of the colonists, and promised to send them large auxiliary forces. Viewing the distressed state to which Britain was reduced by the contest, and concluding that the time had arrived to strike a decisive blow for the humiliation, Spain soon after declared war against her; and in 1780, Holland was added to the number of her enemies. Russia then put herself at the head of what was called an Armed Neutrality, embracing Sweden and Denmark, the object of which was indirectly hostile to Britain. So tremendous was the force reared against Britain in 1779, even before all these powers had entered into hostilities, that it required about 300,000 armed men, 300 armed vessels, and twenty millions of money annually, merely to protect herself from her enemies. Even her wonted superiority at sea seemed to have deserted her; and for some time the people beheld the unwonted spectacle of a hostile fleet riding in the Channel, which there was no adequate means of opposing.

It was now obvious to the whole nation that this contest, upon whatever ground it commenced, was a great national misfortune; and the Opposition in Parliament began to gain considerably in strength. After some votes, in which the ministerial majorities appeared to be gradually lessening, Mr. Dunning, on the 6th of April 1780, carried, by a majority of eighteen, a motion, ‘that the influence of the crown had increased, was increasing, and ought to be diminished.’ This was looked upon as a severe censure of the government, considering that the House of Commons was not altogether a popular body, but included many who had seats there only through the influence of the crown, or by the favor of the nobility and gentry.

In the year 1778, an act had been passed, relieving the Roman Catholics in England from some of the severe penal statutes formerly enacted against them. The apprehension of a similar act for Scotland caused the people of that country to form an immense number of associations with a view to opposing it; and in the early part of 1779, the popular spirit broke out at Edinburgh and Glasgow in several alarming riots, during which one or two Catholic chapels, and some houses belonging to Catholics, were pillaged and burnt. An extensive Protestant Association was also formed in England, to endeavor to procure the repeal of the English act. This body was chiefly led by Lord George Gordon, a son of the late Duke of Gordon, and member of the House of Commons. In June 1780, an immense mob assembled in London to accompany Lord George to the House of Commons, where he was to present a petition against the act, signed by 120,000 persons. His motion for the repeal of the act being rejected by a vast majority, he came out to the lobby and harangued the crowd in violent terms, suggesting to them similar acts to those which had taken place in Scotland. The mob accordingly proceeded to demolish the chapels of the foreign ambassadors. Meeting with no effectual resistance, for the magistrates of the city were afraid to take decisive measures against them, they attacked Newgate, released the prisoners, and set the prison on fire. The new prison at Clerkenwell, the King’s Bench, and Fleet Prisons, and the New Bridewell, were treated in like manner. At one time thirty-six fires were seen throughout the city. The mob had uncontrolled possession of the streets for five days, pillaging, burning, and demolishing; until the king in council determined to authorize the military to put them down by force of arms. Tranquillity was then restored, but not before upwards of 400 persons were killed and wounded. Many of the ringleaders were convicted and executed. Lord George Gordon was tried for high treason, but acquitted on a plea of insanity, which his subsequent life showed to be well founded. Similar outrages were attempted in other cities, but prevented by the vigor of the magistrates. The chief sufferers from these riots were the party who aimed at political reforms. On the other hand, the king obtained increased respect, in consequence of the firmness he had shown in taking measures for the suppression of the riots.

The states of North and South Carolina, which contained a larger proportion of persons friendly to the British crown than any of the northern states, had submitted, in 1780, to a British army under General Clinton. Next year the greater part of the troops which had been left in those states were conducted northward by Lord Cornwallis, in the hope of making further conquests; but the consequence was that General Greene, after a series of conflicts, in which he greatly distressed various parties of the British troops, regained both Carolinas, while Lord Cornwallis took up a position at Yorktown in Virginia. At this time, General Washington, the American commander-in-chief, to whose extraordinary sagacity and purity of motives the colonists chiefly owed their independence, was threatening General Clinton’s army at New York. Clinton tamely saw him retire to the southward, believing that he only meant to make a feint, in order to draw away the British from New York, when he in reality meant to attack Cornwallis. On the 29th of September (1781), Yorktown was invested by this and other corps of Americans and French; and in three weeks more, the British batteries being completely silenced, Lord Cornwallis surrendered with his whole army. With this event, though some posts were still kept up by the British troops, hostilities might be said to have been concluded.

At the next opening of Parliament many of those who had formerly supported the war, began to adopt opposite views; and early in 1782, a motion, made by General Conway, for the conclusion of the war, was carried by a majority of nineteen. The necessary consequence was, that, on the 20th of March, Lord North and his colleagues resigned office, after twelve years of continued misfortune, during which the prosperity of the country had been retarded, a hundred millions added to the national debt, and three millions of people separated from the parent state.

As usual in such cases, a new administration was formed out of the Opposition. The Marquis of Rockingham was made prime minister, and Mr. Fox one of the secretaries of state. The new ministers lost no time in taking measures for the restoration of peace. Unfortunately for their credit with the nation, Sir George Rodney gained an important victory over the French fleet of the island of Dominica, April 12, 1782, after the ministers had despatched another officer to supersede him in the command. On this occasion, thirty-seven British vessels encountered thirty-four French; and chiefly by the dexterous manœuvre of a breach of the enemy’s line, gained one of the most complete victories recorded in modern warfare. The triumph was eminently necessary, to recover in some measure the national honor, and enable the ministers to conclude the war upon tolerable terms. In November, provisional articles for a peace with the United States of America, now acknowledged as an independent power, were signed at Paris, and the treaty was concluded in the ensuing February. When the American ambassador was afterwards, for the first time, introduced at the British levée, the king received him kindly, and said with great frankness, that though he had been the last man in his dominions to desire that the independence of America should be acknowledged, he should also be the last to wish that that acknowledgment should be withdrawn. War was soon after concluded with France, Spain, and Holland, but not without some considerable concessions of colonial territory on the part of Great Britain.

The conclusion of this war is memorable as a period of great suffering, arising from the exhaustion of the national resources, the depression of commerce, and the accident of a bad harvest. The principles of prosperity were, after all, found to be so firmly rooted in the country, that immediately after the first distresses had passed away, every department of the state resumed its wonted vigor, and during the ensuing ten years of peace, a great advance was made in national wealth.

In 1786, Mr. Pitt established his celebrated but fallacious scheme for redeeming the national debt, by what was called a Sinking Fund. The revenue was at this time above fifteen millions, being about one million more than was required for the public service. This excess he proposed to lay aside annually, to lie at compound interest; by which means he calculated that each million would be quadrupled at the end of twenty-eight years, and thus go a great way towards the object he had in view. To this scheme Mr. Fox added the infinitely more absurd amendment, that, when the government required to borrow more money, one million of every six so obtained should be laid aside for the same purpose. The scheme was so well received as to increase the popularity of the minister, and it was not till 1813 that its fallacy was proved.

In the same year commenced the parliamentary proceedings against Mr. Warren Hastings, for alleged cruelty and robbery exercised upon the natives of India during his governorship of that dependency of Great Britain. These proceedings were urged by Mr. Burke and other members of the Whig party, and excited so much public indignation against Mr. Hastings, that the ministry were obliged, though unwillingly, to lend their countenance to his trial, which took place before Parliament in the most solemn manner, and occupied in the aggregate one hundred and forty-nine days, extending over the space of several years. The proceedings resulted in the acquittal of Mr. Hastings.

The king and queen had in the meantime become the parents of a numerous family of sons and daughters. The eldest son, George, Prince of Wales, had now for several years been of age, and exempted from the control of his father. He had no sooner been set up in an establishment of his own, than he plunged into a career of prodigality, forming the most striking contrast with the chastened simplicity and decorum of the paternal abode. He also attached himself to the party of the Opposition, though rather apparently from a principle of contradiction to his father, than a sincere approbation of their political objects. The result was the complete alienation of the Prince of Wales from the affections of his majesty.

In November 1788, an aberration of intellect, resulting from an illness of some duration, was observed in the king, and it became necessary to provide some species of substitute for the exercise of the royal functions. To have invested the Prince of Wales with the regency, appeared the most obvious course; but this would have thrown out the ministry, as it was to be supposed that his royal highness would call the chiefs of his own party to his councils. Mr. Fox contended that the hereditary nature of the monarchy pointed out an unconditional right in the prince to assume the supreme power under such circumstances; but Mr. Pitt asserted the right of Parliament to give or withhold such an office, and proposed to assign certain limits to the authority of the intended regent, which would have placed the existing ministry beyond his reach. The Irish Parliament voted the unconditional regency to the prince; but that of Great Britain was about to adopt the modified plan proposed by Mr. Pitt, when, March 1789, the king suddenly recovered, and put an end to the difficulty. The debates on the regency question exhibit in a very striking light how statesmen will sometimes abandon their most favorite dogmas and strongest principles on the call of their own immediate interests.

FRENCH REVOLUTION, AND CONSEQUENT WAR WITH FRANCE.

The country had for several years experienced the utmost prosperity and peace, when it was roused by a series of events which took place in France. The proceedings of the French nation for redressing the political grievances under which they had long labored, commenced in 1789, and were at first very generally applauded in Britain, as likely to raise that nation to a rational degree of freedom. Ere long, the violence shown at the destruction of the Bastile, the abolition of hereditary privileges, the open disrespect for religion, and other symptoms of an extravagant spirit, manifested by the French, produced a considerable change in the sentiments of the British people. The proceedings of the French were still justified by the principal leaders of Opposition in Parliament, and by a numerous class of the community; but they inspired the government, and the propertied and privileged classes generally, with great alarm and distrust.

When at length the coalition of Austria and Prussia with the fugitive noblesse had excited the spirit of the French people to a species of frenzy, and led to the establishment of a Republic, and the death of the king, the British government and its supporters were effectually roused to a sense of the danger which hung over all ancient institutions, and a pretext was found (January 1793) for declaring war against France. A comparatively small body of the people were opposed to this step, which was also loudly deprecated in Parliament by Messrs. Fox and Sheridan; but all these remonstrances were drowned in the general voice of the nation. At such a crisis, to speak of political reforms in England seemed the height of imprudence, as tending to encourage the French. All, therefore, who continued to make open demonstrations for that cause, were now branded as enemies to religion and civil order. In Scotland, Mr. Thomas Muir, a barrister, and Mr. Palmer, a Unitarian clergyman, were tried for sedition, and sentenced to various terms of banishment. Citizens named Skirving, Gerald, and Margarot, were treated in like manner by the Scottish criminal judges, for offenses which could only be said to derive the character ascribed to them from the temporary and accidental circumstances of the nation. An attempt to inflict similar punishments upon the English reformers, was defeated by the acquittal of a shoemaker named Hardy; but the party was nevertheless subjected, with the apparent concurrence of a large and influential portion of the people, to many minor severities.

After alliances had been formed with the other powers hostile to France, the British ministers despatched an army to the Netherlands, under the command of the king’s second son, the Duke of York, to coöperate in reducing the fortresses in possession of the French, while the town of Toulon, being inclined to remain under the authority of the royal family, put itself into the hands of a British naval commander. At first, the French seemed to fail somewhat in their defenses; but on a more ardently republican party acceding to power under the direction of the famous Robespierre, the national energies were much increased, and the Duke of Brunswick experienced a series of disgraceful reverses. The Prussian government, having adopted new views of the condition of France, now began to withdraw its troops, on the pretext of being unable to pay them; and though Britain gave nearly a million and a quarter sterling to induce this power to remain nine months longer upon the field, its coöperation was of no further service, and was soon altogether lost. On the 1st of June 1794, the French Brest fleet sustained a severe defeat from Lord Howe, with the loss of six ships; but the republican troops not only drove the combined armies out of the Netherlands, but taking advantage of an unusually hard frost, invaded Holland by the ice which covered the Rhine, and reduced that country to a Republic under their own control. The successes of the British were limited to the above naval victory, the temporary possession of Corsica and Toulon, the capture of several of the French colonies in the West Indies, and the spoliation of a great quantity of the commercial shipping of France; against which were to be reckoned the expulsion of an army from the Netherlands, the loss of 10,000 men and 60,000 stand of arms, in an unsuccessful descent upon the west coast of France, some considerable losses in mercantile shipping, and an increase of annual expenditure from about fourteen to nearly forty millions.

In the course of the year 1795, the lower portions of the community began to appear violently discontented with the progress of the war, and to renew their demands for reform in the state. As the king was passing (October 29) to open the session of Parliament, a stone was thrown into his coach, and the interference of the horse guards was required to protect his person from an infuriated mob. The ministers consequently obtained acts for more effectually repressing sedition, and for the dispersion of political meetings. They were at the same time compelled to make a show of yielding to the popular clamor for peace; and commenced a negotiation with the French Directory, which was broken off by the refusal of France to restore Belgium to Austria. In the ensuing year, so far from any advance being made towards the subjugation of France, the northern states of Italy were overrun by its armies, and formed into what was called the Cisalpine Republic. The celebrated Napoleon Bonaparte made his first conspicuous appearance as the leader of this expedition, which terminated in Austria submitting to a humiliating peace. At the close of 1796, a French fleet sailed for Ireland, with the design of revolutionizing that country, and detaching it from Britain; but its object was defeated by stress of weather. At this crisis, a new attempt was made to negotiate with the French Republic; but as the events of the year had been decidedly favorable to France, a renewed demand of the British for the surrender of Belgium was looked upon as a proof that they were not sincere in their proposals, and their agent was insultingly ordered to leave the French territory. To add to the distresses of Britain, while Austria was withdrawn from the number of her allies, Spain, by a declaration of war in 1797, increased in no inconsiderable degree the immense force with which she had to contend.

THREATENED INVASION—​SUBSEQUENT EVENTS.

For some time an invasion of Britain had been threatened by France; and, sacred as the land had been for centuries from the touch of a foreign enemy, the successes of the republicans had hitherto so greatly exceeded all previous calculation, that the execution of their design did not appear improbable. Just as the inteference of the neighboring powers had, in 1792, roused the energies of the French, so did this proposed invasion stimulate the spirit of the British people. The clamors of reformers, and of those who were friendly to France, were now lost in an almost universal zeal for the defense of the country; and not only were volunteer corps everywhere formed, but the desire of prosecuting the war became nearly the ruling sentiment of the nation. The ministers, perceiving the advantage which was to be derived from the tendency of the national spirit, appeared seriously to dread an invasion, and thus produced an unexpected and very distressing result. The credit of the Bank of England was shaken; a run was made upon it for gold in exchange for its notes, which it could not meet. On the 25th of February 1797, therefore, the Bank was obliged, with the sanction of the privy-council, to suspend cash payments—​that is, to refuse giving coin on demand for the paper money which had been issued. This step led to a great depreciation in the value of Bank of England notes; and was followed by a very serious derangement of the currency for a number of years.

In April, a new alarm arose from the proceedings of the seamen on board the Channel fleet, who mutinied for an advance of pay, and the redress of some alleged grievances. A convention of delegates from the various ships met in Lord Howe’s cabin, and drew up petitions to the House of Commons and the Board of Admiralty. Upon these being yielded to, order was restored; but the seamen on board the fleet at the Nore soon after broke out in a much more alarming revolt; and on the refusal of their demands, moored their vessels across the Thames, threatening to cut off all communication between London and the open sea. The reduction of this mutiny appeared at one time as if it could only be effected by much bloodshed; but by the firmness of the government, and some skillful dealings with the seamen, a loyal party was formed, by whom the more turbulent men were secured, and the vessels restored to their respective officers. The ringleaders, the chief of whom was a young man named Richard Parker, were tried and executed.

The same year was remarkable for several victories gained by the British fleets. A Spanish fleet of twenty-seven ships was attacked by fifteen vessels under Admiral Jervis (February 14), off Cape St. Vincent, and completely beaten, with the loss of four large vessels. A fleet under Admiral Harvey, with a military force under Sir Ralph Abercromby, captured the island of Trinidad, a Spanish colony. In October, a Dutch fleet, under Admiral De Winter, was attacked off the village of Camperdown, upon their own coast, by Admiral Duncan, who after a desperate battle, captured nine of the enemy’s vessels. These naval successes compensated in some measure for the many land victories of the French, and served to sustain the spirit of the British nation under this unfortunate contest.

In 1798, the French overran and added to their dominions the ancient republic of Switzerland, which gave them a frontier contiguous to Austria, and enabled them eventually to act with increased readiness and force upon that country. In this year, the directors of the French Republic, beginning to be afraid of the ambition of their general, Bonaparte, sent him at the head of an expedition to reduce and colonize Egypt, intending from that country to act against the British empire in the East Indies. The expedition was successful in its first object; but the fleet which had conveyed it was attacked in Aboukir Bay, by Admiral Nelson (August 1), and almost totally destroyed or captured. While so much of the strength of the French army was thus secluded in a distant country, the eastern powers of Europe thought they might safely recommence war with the republic. Austria, Naples, and Russia, formed a confederacy for this purpose; and Britain, to supply the necessary funds, submitted to the grievance of an income tax, amounting in general to ten per cent., in addition to all her previous burdens.

The new confederacy was so successful in 1799, as to redeem the greater part of Italy. A Russian army, under the famous Suwaroff, acted a prominent part in the campaign; but, in the end, attempting to expel the French from Switzerland, this large force was nearly cut to pieces in one of the defiles of that mountainous country. In August of the same year, Great Britain made a corresponding attempt to expel the French from Holland. Thirty-five thousand men, under the Duke of York, formed the military part of the expedition. The fleet was successful at the first in taking the Dutch ships, but the army, having landed under stress of weather at an unfavorable place for their operations, was obliged, after an abortive series of skirmishes, to make an agreement with the French, purchasing permission to go back to their country by the surrender of 8000 prisoners from England.

The reverses which France experienced in 1799, were generally attributed to the weakness of the Directory—​a council of five, to which the executive had been intrusted. Bonaparte suddenly returned from his army in Egypt, and, by a skillful management of his popularity, overturned the Directory, and caused himself to be appointed the sole depositary of the executive power of the state, under the denomination of First Consul. He immediately wrote a letter to King George, making overtures of peace, but was answered, by the British secretary, that no dependence could be placed by Great Britain on any treaty with France, unless her government were again consolidated under the Bourbons. Bonaparte, having much reason to wish for peace, made a reply to this note, vindicating France from the charge brought against her, of having commenced a system of aggression inconsistent with the interests of other states, and asserting her right to choose her own government—​a point, he said, that could not decently be contested by the minister of a crown which was held by no other tenure. But the British government was at this time too much elated by the expulsion of the French army from Italy, and the late changes in the executive, which, in their estimation, betokened weakness, to be immdiately anxious for peace.

The events of 1800 were of a very different nature from what had been calculated upon in England. Sir Sidney Smith, who commanded the British forces in Syria, had made a treaty with the French army after it had been left by Bonaparte, whereby it was agreed that the French should abandon Egypt, and retire unmolested to their own country. The British government, in its present temper, refused to ratify this arrangement, and the consequence was a continuance of hostilities. The French overthrew a large Turkish army at Grand Cairo, and made themselves more effectually than ever the masters of the country, so that Britain was obliged to send an army next year, under Sir Ralph Abercromby, to accomplish, at an immense expense, and a great waste of human life, what the French had formerly agreed to do. In Europe, the presence of Bonaparte produced equally disastrous results. By one of his most dexterous movements, he eluded the Austrians, led an army over the Alps by the Great St. Bernard into the Milanese, and having gained a decisive victory at Marengo (June 14), at once restored the greater part of Italy to French domination. Cotemporaneously with Napoleon’s movements, Moreau led another army directly into Germany, overthrew the Austrians in several battles, and advanced to within seventeen leagues of their capital, Vienna. These reverses obliged Austria next year (1801) to sue for and conclude a peace, by which France became mistress of all continental Europe west of the Rhine and south of the Adige.

REBELLION IN IRELAND—​UNION WITH GREAT BRITAIN.

Although the government had been able, in 1783, to procure a dissolution of the volunteer corps, the bulk of the Irish people continued to express the most anxious desire for such a reform in their Parliament as might render it a more just representation of the popular voice. Unable to yield to them on this point, Mr. Pitt endeavored to appease them by extending their commercial privileges; but his wishes were frustrated, chiefly by the jealousy of the British merchants. A strong feeling of discontent, not only with the government, but with the British connection, was thus engendered in Ireland.

The commencement of the revolutionary proceedings in France excited the wildest hopes of the Irish. Towards the close of the year 1791, they formed an association, under the title of the United Irishmen, comprehending persons of all religions, and designed to obtain ‘a complete reform of the legislature, founded on the principles of civil, political, and religious liberty.’ The government from the first suspected this association of meditating an overturn of the state, and took strong measures for keeping it in check. Acts were passed for putting down its meetings, and the secretary, Mr. Hamilton Rowan, was tried and sentenced to a fine and two years’ imprisonment for what was termed a seditious libel. At the same time, some concessions to the popular spirit were deemed indispensable, and the Irish Parliament accordingly passed acts enabling Catholics to intermarry with Protestants, to practice at the bar, and to educate their own children.

On discovering that a treasonable correspondence had been carried on with France by some leading persons in the society of United Irishmen, the government was so much alarmed as to send (1794) a Whig lord-lieutenant (Earl Fitzwilliam) to grant further concessions; but ere anything had been done, the ministers were persuaded by the Protestant party to return to their former policy. The patriotic party now despaired of effecting any improvement by peaceable means, and an extensive conspiracy was entered into for delivering up Ireland to the French republic. The scheme was managed by a directory of five persons, and though half a million of men were concerned in it, the most strict secrecy was preserved. In December 1796, a portion of the fleet which had been fitted out by the French to coöperate with the Irish patriots, landed at Bantry Bay; but measures for a rising of the people not being yet ripe, it was obliged to return. Next year, the losses at Camperdown crippled the naval resources of France, and prevented a renewal of the expedition. Losing all hope of French assistance, the conspirators resolved to act without it; but their designs were betrayed by one Reynolds; and three other members of the directory, Emmett, Macnevin, and Bond, were seized. Notwithstanding the precautionary measures which the government was thus enabled to take, the Union persisted in the design of rising on a fixed day. Lord Edward Fitzgerald, another of its leaders, was then arrested, and being wounded in a scuffle with his captors, soon after died in prison. On the 21st of May 1798, Lord Castlereagh, secretary to the lord-lieutenant, disclosed the whole plan of insurrection, which had been fixed to commence on the 23d.

Though thus thwarted in their designs, and deprived of their best leaders, the conspirators appeared in arms in various parts of the country. Parties attacked Naas and Carlow, but were repulsed with loss. A large party, under a priest named Murphy, appeared in the county of Wexford, and took the city of that name. Slight insurrections about the same time broke out in the northern counties of Antrim and Down, but were easily suppressed. In Wexford alone did the insurgents appear in formidable strength. Under a priest named Roche, a large party of them met and defeated a portion of the government troops; but on a second occasion, though they fought with resolution for four hours, they were compelled to retreat. Another defeat at New Ross exasperated them greatly, and some monstrous cruelties were consequently practised upon their prisoners. On the 20th of June, their whole force was collected upon Vinegar Hill, near Enniscorthy, where an army of 13,000 men, with a proportionate train of artillery, was brought against them by General Lake. They were completely overthrown and dispersed. From this time the rebellion languished, and in July it had so far ceased to be formidable, that an act of amnesty was passed in favor of all who had been engaged in it, except the leaders.

On the 22d of August, when the rebellion had been completely extinguished, 900 French, under General Humbert, were landed at Killala, in the opposite extremity of the country from that in which the insurgents had shown the greatest strength. Though too late to be of any decisive effect, they gave some trouble to the government. A much larger body of British troops, under General Lake, met them at Castlebar, but retreated in a panic. They then advanced to the centre of the country, while the lord-lieutenant confessed the formidable reputation which their countrymen had acquired, by concentrating an immensely disproportioned force against them. On the 8th of September, they were met at Carrick-on-Shannon by this large army, to which they yielded themselves prisoners of, war.

During the ensuing two years, the British ministers exerted themselves to bring about an incorporating union of Ireland with Great Britain; a measure to which the Irish were almost universally opposed, but which, by the use of bribes and government patronage liberally employed amongst the members of the Irish legislature, was at length effected. From the 1st of January 1801, the kingdom of Ireland formed an essential part of the empire, on which was now conferred the name of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. The act of Union secured to the Irish most of the commercial privileges which they had so long sought. Upon a comparison of the aggregate exports and imports of the two countries, Ireland was to raise two parts of revenue for every fifteen raised by Great Britain, during the first twenty years of the Union, after which new regulations were to be made by Parliament. One hundred commoners were to be sent by Ireland to the British (now called the Imperial) Parliament; namely, two for each county, two for each of the cities of Dublin and Cork, one for the university, and one for each of the thirty-one most considerable towns. Four lord spiritual, by rotation of sessions, and twenty-eight lords temporal, elected for life by the Peers of Ireland, were to sit in the House of Lords.

The Union, though, upon the whole, effected in a spirit of fairness towards Ireland, increased the discontent of the people, which broke out in 1803 in a new insurrection. Under Robert Emmet and Thomas Russell, a conspiracy was formed for seizing the seat of the vice-government, and for this purpose a great multitude of peasantry from the county of Kildare assembled (July 23) in Dublin. Disappointed in their attempt upon the castle, they could only raise a tumult in the streets, in the course of which Lord Kilwarden, a judge, and his nephew, Mr. Wolfe, were dragged from a carriage and killed. The mob was dispersed by soldiery, and Emmett and Russell, being seized, were tried and executed.

CHANGE OF MINISTRY, AND PEACE OF AMIENS, 1801.

At the commencement of 1801, Britain had not only to lament this unexpected turn of fortune, but to reckon among her enemies the whole of the northern states of Europe, which had found it necessary to place themselves on a friendly footing with Bonaparte, and though they did not declare war against Britain, yet acted in such a manner as to render hostilities unavoidable. Nelson sailed in March with a large fleet for Copenhagen, and proved so successful against the Danish fleet, as to reduce that country to a state of neutrality. The death of the Russian Emperor Paul, which took place at the same time, and the accession of Alexander, who was friendly to Britain, completely broke up the northern confederacy. Yet the great achievements of France on the continent, joined to the distresses of a famine which at this time bore hard on the British people, produced a desire for that peace which, a year before, might have been gained upon better terms. With a view, apparently, to save the honor of Mr. Pitt and his friends, a new ministry was appointed under Mr. Addington, by whom a peace was at length, in the end of the year (1801), concluded with France, which was left in the state of aggrandizement which has just been described.

The war of the French Revolution placed Great Britain in possession of a considerable number of islands and colonies in the East and West Indies and elsewhere; and while only two war ships had been lost on her part, she had taken or destroyed 80 sail of the line, 181 frigates, and 224 smaller ships, belonging to the enemy, together with 743 privateers, 15 Dutch, and 76 Spanish ships. The triumphs of the British fleets were indeed numerous and splendid, and had the effect of keeping the national commerce almost inviolate during the whole of the war while that of France was nearly destroyed. There was, however, hardly the most trifling instance of success by land; and the expenses of the contest had been enormous. Previously to 1793, the supplies usually voted by the House of Commons were £14,000,000; but those for 1801 were £42,197,000—​a sum about double the amount of the whole land-rent of the country.

WAR RENEWED WITH FRANCE, 1803—​SUBSEQUENT EVENTS.

It was only one of the results of the war against French independence, that France was led by the course of events to place herself under the control of her chief military genius, Napoleon Bonaparte; a man singularly qualified for concentrating and directing the energies of a country in the existing condition of France, but animated more by personal ambition than by any extended views of the good of his species. It was soon manifested that Bonaparte did not relish peace. By taking undue advantage of several points left loose in the treaty, he provoked Great Britain to retaliate by retaining possession of Malta; and the war was accordingly recommenced in May 1803. Britain immediately employed her superior naval force to seize the French West India colonies; while France took possession of Hanover, and excluded British commerce from Hamburg. Bonaparte collected an immense flotilla at Boulogne, for the avowed purpose of invading England; but so vigorous were the preparations made by the whole British population, and so formidable the fleet under Lord Nelson, that he never found it possible to put his design in execution. In the year 1804, he was elevated to the dignity of Emperor of the French; and France once more exhibited the formalities of a court, though not of the kind which the European sovereigns were anxious to see established. In April of the same year, the Addington administration was exchanged for one constructed by Mr. Pitt, and of which he formed the leader.

In 1805, under the fostering influence of Great Britain, a new coalition of European powers, consisting of Russia, Sweden, Austria, and Naples, was formed against Napoleon. He, on the other hand, had drawn Spain upon his side, and was making great exertions for contesting with Britain the empire of the sea. A fleet of thirty-three sail, partly French and partly Spanish, met a British fleet of twenty-seven, under Nelson, off Cape Trafalgar, October 25, 1805, and was completely beaten, though at the expense of the life of the British commander. Britain thus fixed permanently her dominion over the seas and coasts of the civilized world. At this time, however, Napoleon was asserting with equal success his supremacy over continental Europe. By a sudden, rapid, and unexpected movement, he conducted an army into Germany, where the Austrians were already making aggressions upon neutral territory. On the 17th October, he took the fortress of Ulm, with its artillery, magazines, and garrison of 30,000 men; a month after, he entered Vienna without resistance. He then pursued the royal family, and the allied armies of Russia and Austria, into Moravia; and on the 2d of December 1805, he gained the decisive and celebrated victory of Austerlitz, which put an end to the coalition, and rendered him the dictator of the continent.

This series of events caused much gloom in the British councils, and with other painful circumstances, among which was the impeachment of his colleague Lord Melville, for malpractices in the Admirality, proved a death-blow to Mr. Pitt, who expired on the 23d of January 1806, completely worn out with state business, at the early age of forty-seven, half of which time he had spent in the public service. Mr. Pitt is universally allowed the praise of high talent and patriotism. But his policy has been a subject of dispute between the two great political parties into which British society is divided. By the Tories it is firmly believed that his entering into the war against the French Republic was the means of saving the country from anarchy and ruin; by the Whigs, that this step only ended to postpone the settlement of the affairs of France, and loaded Britain with an enormous debt. Of the absence of all selfish views in the political conduct of Mr. Pitt, there can be no doubt; for, so far from accumulating a fortune out of the public funds, he left some debts, which Parliament gratefully paid.

Mr. Pitt’s ministry was succeeded by one composed of Lord Grenville, Mr. Fox, and their friends; it was comprehensively called Whig, although Lord Grenville was a Tory, except in his advocacy of the claims of the Catholics for emancipation. In the course of 1806, the new cabinet made an attempt to obtain a peace from France, which now threatened to bring the whole world to its feet. But the Grenville administration encountered serious difficulties from the king, who never could be induced to look with the least favor on the Catholic claims, or those who advocated them. Exhausted by his useless labors, Mr. Fox died, September 13, 1806. Few names are more endeared to the British people than his, for, though the leader of the Whigs, he never excited any rancor in his opponents. He was remarkable for his frankness and simplicity. His abilities as a parliamentary orator and statesman were of the first order, and he was invariably the consistent and sincere friend of popular rights.

A new coalition, excluding Austria, but involving Prussia, had been subsidised by Britain, and was preparing to act. With his usual decision, Napoleon led what he called his ‘Grand Army’ by forced marches into Prussia; gained, on the 14th of October, the battles of Jena and Auerstadt, which at once deprived that country of her army, her capital, and her fortresses; and then proclaimed the famous ‘Berlin Decrees,’ by which he declared Great Britain in a state of blockade, and shut the ports of Europe against her merchandise. The King of Prussia, Frederick William III, took refuge with his court in Russia, which now was the only continental power of any importance that remained unsubdued by France.

Towards that country Napoleon soon bent his steps, taking, as he went, assistance from Poland, which he promised to restore to independence. After a series of skirmishes and battles of lesser importance, he met the Russian army in great strength (June 14, 1807), at Friedland, and gave it a total overthrow. He might now have easily reduced the whole country, as he had done Austria and Prussia; but he contented himself with forming a treaty (called the treaty of Tilsit, from the place where it was entered into), by which Russia agreed to become an ally of France, and entered into his views for the embarrassment of Britain by the exclusion of her commerce from the continental ports. France had thus, in the course of a few years, disarmed the whole of Europe, excepting Great Britain, an amount of military triumph for which there was no precedent in ancient or modern history.

The Grenville administration was displaced in the spring of 1807, in consequence of the difference between its members and the king on the subject of the Catholic claims, which had long been urged by the Whig party, with little support from the people. The next ministry was headed by the Duke of Portland, and included Lords Hawkesbury and Castlereagh (afterwards Earl of Liverpool and Marquis of Londonderry), and Mr. Canning, as secretaries; Mr. Spencer Perceval being chancellor of the exchequer. After being accustomed to the services of such men as Pitt and Fox, the people regarded this cabinet as one possessing comparatively little ability. One of its first acts was the despatch of a naval armament to Copenhagen to seize and bring away the Danish shipping, which was expected to be immediately employed in subserviency to the designs of France, and for the injury of Britain. The end of the expedition was very easily obtained; but it was the means of lowering the honor of Britain in the estimation of foreign powers.

FIRST PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN—​SUBSEQUENT EVENTS.

The retaliation of France, for the interferences of other powers with its Revolution, even supposing such retaliation justifiable, was now more than completed. Further measures could only appear as dictated by a desire of aggrandizement. But France was now given up to the direction of a military genius, who had other ends to serve than the defense of the country against foreign aggression or interference. The amazing successes of Napoleon had inspired him with the idea of universal empire: and so great was the influence he had acquired over the French, and so high their military spirit, that the attainment of his object seemed by no means impossible. There was a difference, however, between the opposition which he met with before this period, and that which he subsequently encountered. In the earlier periods of the war, the military operations of the European powers were chiefly dictated by views concerning the interests of governments, and in which the people at large felt little sympathy. Henceforth a more patriotic spirit rose everywhere against Napoleon: he was looked upon in England and elsewhere as the common enemy of humanity and of freedom; and every exertion made for the humiliation of France was animated by a sentiment of desperation, in which the governors and governed alike participated.

The Spanish peninsula was the first part of the prostrated continent where the people could be said to have taken a decidedly hostile part against Napoleon. He had there gone so far as to dethrone the reigning family, and give the crown to his elder brother Joseph. A sense of wrong and insult, mingled with religious fanaticism, raised the Spanish people in revolt against the French troops; and though their conduct was barbarous, it was hailed in Britain as capable of being turned to account. In terms of a treaty entered into with a provisional government in Spain, a small army was landed, August 8, 1808, in Portugal, which had been taken possession of by the French. Sir Arthur Wellesley, who afterwards became so famous as Duke of Wellington, was the leader of this force. In an engagement at Vimeira, on the 21st, he repulsed the French, under Junot, who soon after agreed, by what was called the Convention of Cintra, to evacuate the country. Sir Arthur being recalled, the British army was led into Spain under the command of Sir John Moore; but this officer found the reinforcements poured in by Napoleon too great to be withstood, and accordingly, in the end of December, he commenced a disastrous, though well-conducted retreat towards the port of Corunna, whither he was closely pursued by Marshal Soult. The British army suffered on this occasion the severest hardships and losses, but did not experience a check in battle, or lose a single standard. In a battle which took place at Corunna, January 16, 1809, for the purpose of protecting the embarkation of the troops, Sir John Moore was killed.

Much of the public attention was about this time engrossed by circumstances in the private life of the eldest son of the king. The Prince of Wales had been tempted, in 1796, by the prospect of having his large debts paid by the nation, to marry the Princess Caroline of Brunswick, for whom he entertained no real affection. Almost ever since the marriage, he had shown the most marked disrespect for his consort, who consequently lived separate from him, and was herself considered by many as not altogether blameless in her conduct as a matron.

In 1809, Austria was induced once more to commence war with France. Upwards of half a million of men were brought into the field, under the command of the Archduke Charles. Bonaparte, leaving Spain comparatively open to attack, moved rapidly forward into Germany, and, by the victory of Eckmühl, opened up the way to Vienna, which surrendered to him. After gaining a slight advantage at Essling, the archduke came to a second decisive encounter at Wagram, where the strength of Austria was completely broken to pieces. The peace which succeeded was sealed by the marriage of Napoleon to Maria Louisa, daughter of the emperor of Austria, for which purpose he divorced his former wife Josephine.

In the autumn of 1809, the British government despatched an army of 100,000 men, for the purpose of securing a station which should command the navigation of the Sheldt. The expedition was placed under the command of the Earl of Chatham, elder brother of Mr. Pitt, a nobleman totally unacquainted with military affairs on such a scale. The army, having disembarked on the insalubrious island of Walcheren, was swept off in thousands by disease. The survivors returned in December without having done anything towards the object for which they set out. This tragical affair became the subject of inquiry in the House of Commons, which by a majority of 272 against 232, vindicated the manner in which the expedition had been managed.

SUCCESSES OF WELLINGTON IN SPAIN.

A new expedition in Spain was attended with better success. Taking advantage of the absence of Napoleon in Austria, a considerable army was landed, April 23, 1809, under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, who immediately drove Soult out of Portugal, and then made a rapid move upon Madrid. King Joseph advanced with a considerable force under the command of Marshal Victor; and on the 28th of July, attacked the British and Spanish troops in a strong position at Talavera. The contest was obstinate and sanguinary; and though the French did not retreat, the advantage lay with the British. As this was almost the first success which Britain experienced by land in the course of the war, Sir Arthur Wellesley became the theme of universal praise, and he was elevated to a peerage, under the title of Viscount Wellington of Talavera. He was obliged immediately to fall back upon Portugal, where he occupied a strong position near Santarem.

Early in 1810, Napoleon reinforced the army in Spain and gave orders to Massena to ‘drive the British out of the Peninsula.’ Wellington posted his troops on the heights of Busaco—​eighty thousand in number, including Portuguese—​and there, on the 27th of September, was attacked by an equal number of French. Both British and Portuguese behaved well: the French were repulsed with great loss, and for the first time in the war, conceived a respectful notion of the British troops. Wellington now retired to the lines of Torres Vedras, causing the whole country to be desolated as he went, for the purpose of embarrassing the French. When Massena observed the strength of the British position, he hesitated; and ultimately, in the spring of 1811, performed a disastrous and harassing retreat into the Spanish territory.

It now became an object of importance with Wellington to obtain possession of the Spanish fortresses which had been seized by the French. On the 22d of April, he reconnoitered Badajos, and soon after laid siege to Almeida. Massena, advancing to raise the siege, was met on fair terms at Fuentes d’Onoro, May 5, and repulsed. Almeida consequently fell into the hands of the British. General Beresford, at the head of another body of British forces, gained the bloody battle of Albuera over Soult, and thereby protected the siege of Badajos, which, however, was soon after abandoned. During the same season, General Graham, in command of a third body of troops, gained the battle of Barossa. At the end of a campaign, in which the French were upon the whole unsuccessful, Wellington retired once more into Portugal.

EVENTS OF 1811, 1812, AND 1813.

The year 1811 was regarded as the period of greatest depression and distress which the British empire had known for several ages. At this time, with the exception of an uncertain footing gained in Spain, the influence of England was unknown on the continent. Bonaparte seemed as firmly seated on the throne of France as any of her former monarchs, while every other civilized European kingdom either owned a monarch of his express appointment, or was in some other way subservient to him. By the Berlin and Milan decrees, he had shut the ports of the continent against British goods, so that they could only be smuggled into the usual markets. By British orders in council, which, though intended to be retaliatory, only increased the evil, no vessel belonging to a neutral power—​such, for instance, as the United States—​was permitted to carry goods to those ports, unless they should previously land and pay a duty in Britain. Thus the nation at once suffered from the shortsighted despotism of the French emperor, and from its own narrow and imperfect views of commerce; for, by embarrassing America, it only deprived itself of one of its best and almost sole remaining customers.

The power of Bonaparte, though sudden in its rise, might have been permanent if managed with discretion. It was used, however, in such a way as to produce a powerful reaction throughout Europe in favor of those ancient institutions, which, twenty years before, had been threatened with ruin. The exclusion of British goods—​a measure which he had dictated in resentment against England—​proved the source of great distress, oppression, and hardship throughout the continent, and was greatly instrumental in exciting a spirit of hostility against him. The very circumstance of a foreign power domineering over their native princes, raised a feeling in favor of those personages, which, being identified with the cause of national independence, acted as a very powerful stimulant. On the other hand, a sense of the grasping ambition of Napoleon—​of his hostility to real freedom—​of his unscrupulousness in throwing away the lives of his subjects for his own personal aggrandizement—​had for some time been gaining ground in France itself.

In 1812, when the transactions in Spain had already somewhat impaired Napoleon’s reputation, Alexander, Emperor of Russia, ventured upon a defiance of his decrees against British merchandise, and provoked him to a renewal of the war. With upwards of half a million of troops, appointed in the best manner, he set out for that remote country, determined to reduce it into perfect subjection. An unexpected accident defeated all his plans. The city of Moscow, after being possessed by the French troops in September, was destroyed by incendiaries, so that no shelter remained for them during the ensuing winter. Napoleon was obliged to retreat; but, overtaken by the direst inclemency of the season, his men perished by thousands in the snow. Of his splendid army, a mere skeleton regained central Europe. Returning almost alone to Paris, he contrived with great exertions to reinforce his army, though there was no replacing the veterans lost in Russia.

Early in 1813, he opened a campaign in northern Germany, where the emperor of Russia, now joined by the king of Prussia and various minor powers, appeared in the open field against him. After various successes on both sides, an armistice was agreed to on the 1st of June, and Bonaparte was offered peace on condition of restoring only that part of his dominions which he had acquired since 1805. Inspired with an overweening confidence in his resources and military genius, he refused these terms, and lost all. In August, when the armistice was at an end, his father-in-law, the emperor of Austria, joined the allies, whose forces now numbered 500,000 men, while an army of 300,000 was the largest which Napoleon could at present bring into the field. Henceforth he might be considered as overpowered by numbers. By steady, though cautious movements, the allies advanced to France, driving him reluctantly before them, and increasing their own force as the various states became emancipated by their presence. At the close of 1813, they rested upon the frontiers of France, while Lord Wellington, after two successful campaigns in Spain, had advanced in like manner to the Pyrenees.

HOME AFFAIRS—​WAR WITH AMERICA.

Some changes had in the meantime taken place in the British administration. On the 11th of May, 1812, the premier, Mr. Perceval, was shot in the lobby of the House of Commons, by a man named Bellingham, whom some private losses had rendered insane. Lords Liverpool and Castlereagh then became the ministerial leaders in the two Houses of Parliament, but were quickly voted down by a majority of four, upon a motion made by Mr. Stuart Wortley, afterwards Lord Wharncliffe. The ministry was finally rendered satisfactory to Parliament by the admission of Earl Harrowby as president of the council, Mr. Vansittart as chancellor of the exchequer, and Lord Sidmouth (formerly premier while Mr. Addington) as secretary for the home department; Lord Liverpool continuing as premier, and Lord Castlereagh as foreign and war secretary.

Notwithstanding the successes which were at this period brightening the prospects of Britain, the regent and his ministers did not enjoy much popularity. The regent himself did not possess those domestic virtues which are esteemed by the British people, and he had excited much disapprobation by the steps which he took for fixing a criminal charge upon his consort. The general discontents were increased by the effects of the orders in council, for prohibiting the commerce of neutral states. Vast multitudes of working people were thrown idle by the stagnation of manufactures, and manifested their feelings in commotion and riot. The middle classes expressed their dissatisfaction by clamors for parliamentary reform.

At this unhappy crisis, provoked by the orders in council, as well as by a right assumed by British war-vessels to search for and impress English sailors on board the commercial shipping of the United States, that country (June 1812) declared war against Britain. Before the news had reached London, the orders had been revoked by the influence of Lord Liverpool; but the Americans, nevertheless, were too much incensed to retrace their steps. During the summer and autumn, several encounters took place between single American and British ships, in which the former were successful. It was not till June 1, 1813, when the Shannon and Chesapeake met on equal terms, that the British experienced any naval triumph in this war with a kindred people. On land, the Americans endeavored to annoy the British by assaults upon Canada, but met with no decisive success. The British landed several expeditions on the coast of the States; and were successful at Washington, Alexandria, and at one or two other points, but experienced a bloody and disastrous repulse at New Orleans. The war ended, December 1814, without settling any of the principles for which the Americans had taken up arms. But while thus simply useless to America, it was seriously calamitous to Britain. The commerce with the States, which amounted in 1807, to twelve millions, was interrupted and nearly ruined by the orders in council, and the hostilities which they occasioned: henceforth America endeavored to render herself commercially independent of Britain, by the encouragement of native manufactures—​a policy not immediately advantageous perhaps to herself, and decidedly injurious to Great Britain. The fatal effects of the Berlin and Milan decrees to Napoleon, and of the orders in council to the interests of Britain, show how extremely dangerous it is for any government to interfere violently with the large commercial systems upon which the immediate interests of their subjects depend.

PEACE OF 1814—​SUBSEQUENT EVENTS.

At the close of 1813, it was evident that Bonaparte could hardly defend himself against the vast armaments collected on all hands against him. Early in 1814, having impressed almost every youth capable of bearing arms, he opposed the allies on the frontiers with a force much less numerous and worse disciplined. Even now he was offered peace, on condition that he should only retain France as it existed before the Revolution. But this proposition was too humiliating to his spirit to be accepted; and he entertained a hope that, at the worst, his father-in-law, the Emperor of Austria, would not permit him to be dethroned. Two months were spent in almost incessant conflict with the advancing allies, who, on the 30th of March, entered Paris in triumph; and in the course of a few days, ratified a treaty with Napoleon, by which he agreed to resign the government of France, and live for the future as only sovereign of Elba, a small island in the Mediterranean.

In the measures for settling France, Great Britain concurred by her representative Lord Castlereagh, who attended the allies during the campaign of 1814; and peace was proclaimed in London on the 20th of June. France was deprived of all the acquisitions gained both under the Republic and the Empire, and restored to the rule of the ancient royal family in the person of Louis XVIII. The emperor of Russia and the king of Prussia visited England in June, and were received with all the honors due to men who were considered as the liberators of Europe. Wellington, now created a duke, received a grant of £400,000 from the House of Commons, in addition to one of £100,000 previously voted; and had the honor to receive in person the thanks of the House for his services. Representatives from the European powers concerned in the war, met at Vienna, October 2, in order to settle the disturbed limits of the various countries, and provide against the renewal of a period of war so disastrous. Throughout the whole arrangements, Great Britain acted with a disinterested magnanimity, which, after her great sufferings and expenses, could hardly have been looked for, but was highly worthy of the eminent name which she bore amidst European nations.

In March 1815, the proceedings of the Congress were interrupted by the intelligence that Napoleon had landed in France and was advancing in triumph to the capital. He had been encouraged by various favorable circumstances to attempt the recovery of his throne; and so unpopular had the new government already become, that, though he landed with only a few men, he was everywhere received with affection, and on the 20th of March was reinstated in his capital, which had that morning been left by Louis XVIII. The latter sovereign had granted a charter to his people, by which he and his successors were bound to rule under certain restrictions, and with a legislature composed of two chambers, somewhat resembling the British Houses of Parliament. Bonaparte now came under similar engagements, and even submitted to take the votes of the nation for his restoration; on which occasion he had a million and a-half of affirmative, against less than half a million of negative voices, the voting being performed by ballot. His exertions to reorganize an army were successful to a degree which showed his extraordinary influence over the French nation. On the 1st of June he had 559,000 effective men under arms, of whom 217,000 were ready to take the field.

A Prussian army of more than 100,000 men, under Blucher, and one of about 80,000 British, Germans, and Belgians, under Wellington, were quickly rendezvoused in the Netherlands, while still larger armies of Austrians and Russians, making the whole force above 1,000,000, were rapidly approaching. These professed to make war, not on France, but against Bonaparte alone, whom they denounced as having, by his breach of the treaty, ‘placed himself out of the pale of civil and social relations, and incurred the penalty of summary execution.’ Napoleon, knowing that his enemies would accumulate faster in proportion than his own troops, crossed the frontier on the 14th of June, with 120,000 men, resolved to fight Blucher and Wellington separately, if possible. The rapidity of his movements prevented that concert between the Prussian and English generals which it was their interest to establish. On the 16th, he beat Blucher at Ligny, and compelled him to retire. He had at the same time intrusted to Marshal Ney the duty of cutting off all connection between the two hostile armies. His policy, though not fully acted up to by his marshals, was so far successful, that Blucher retired upon a point nearly a day’s march from the forces of Wellington.

After some further fighting next day, Napoleon brought his whole forces to bear, on the 18th, against Wellington alone, who had drawn up his troops across the road to Brussels, near a place called Waterloo. The battle consisted of a constant succession of attacks by the French upon the British lines. These assaults were attended with great bloodshed, but nevertheless resisted with the utmost fortitude, till the evening, when Blucher came up on the left flank of the British, and turned the scale against the French, who had now to operate laterally, as well as in front. The failure of a final charge by Napoleon’s reserve to produce any impression on the two armies, decided the day against him: his baffled and broken host retired before a furious charge of the Prussian cavalry, who cut them down unmercifully. On his return to Paris, Napoleon made an effort to restore the confidence of his chief counsellors, but in vain. After a fruitless abdication in favor of his son, he retired on board a small vessel at Rockfort, with the intention of proceeding to America; but being captured by a British ship of war, he was condemned by his triumphant enemies to perpetual confinement on the island of St. Helena, in the Atlantic, where he died in 1821.

Louis XVIII was now restored, and the arrangements of the Congress of Vienna were completed. The expenses of Great Britain during the last year of hostilities exceeded seventy millions; and the national debt, which in 1763 had been £230,000,000, now amounted to the vast sum of £860,000,000.

During the latter years of Napoleon, a reaction had taken place throughout Europe against the innovatory doctrines which, by producing the French Revolution, had been the cause, innocent or guilty, of so much ruinous warfare. Encouraged by this sentiment, the sovereigns of Austria, Prussia, and Russia, had no sooner settled the new government of France, than they entered, September 26, 1815, into a personal league or bond for assisting each other on all occasions when any commotion should take place among their respective subjects. This treaty was composed in somewhat obscure terms; and from its professing religion to be the sole proper guide ‘in the counsels of princes, in consolidating human institutions, and remedying their imperfections,’ it obtained the name of the Holy Alliance. It was published at the end of the year, and communicated to the Prince Regent of England, who approved of, but did not accede to it.

In May 1816, the Princess Charlotte, only child of the Prince Regent, was married to Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, a young officer who had gained her affections when attending the allied sovereigns at the British court. In November 1817, to the inexpressible grief of the whole nation, the young Princess died, immediately after having given birth to a dead son.

In August 1816, a British armament under Lord Exmouth bombarded Algiers, and reduced that piratical state to certain desirable conditions respecting the treatment of Christian prisoners.

The year 1816, and the four following years, will always be memorable as an epoch of extraordinary distress, affecting almost every class of the community. The liberation of European commerce at the end of the war produced a proportionate diminution of that trade which England had previously enjoyed, through her exclusive possession of the seas. While all public burdens continued at their former nominal amount, the prices of every kind of produce, and of every kind of goods had fallen far below the unnatural level to which a state of war and of paper money had raised them; and hence the expenses of the late contest, which had never been felt in the fictitious prosperity then prevalent, came to press with great severity upon the national resources, at a time when there was much less ability to bear the burden. To complete the misery of the country, the crops of 1816 fell far short of the usual quantity, and the price of bread was increased to an amount more than double that which has since been the average rate.

On the 20th of January 1820, George III died at Windsor, in his eighty-second year, without having experienced any lucid interval since 1810. The Prince Regent was immediately proclaimed as George IV; but there was no other change to mark the commencement of a new reign. A few days after the decease of George III, the Duke of Kent, his fourth son, died suddenly, leaving an infant daughter, Victoria, with a very near prospect to the throne.

REIGN OF GEORGE IV.

At the time when George IV commenced his reign, the recent proceedings of the ministry, had inspired a small band of desperate men with the design of assassinating the ministers at a cabinet dinner, and thereafter attempting to set themselves up as a provisional government. On the 23d of February 1820, they were suprised by the police in their place of meeting, and, after a desperate resistance, five were seized, among whom one Thistlewood was the chief. These wretched men were tried for high treason, and executed. Nearly about the same time, an attempt was made by the workmen in the west of Scotland to bring about some alteration in the state; and two men were executed.

On the accession of the king, his consort’s name had been omitted from the liturgy. This and other indignities induced her to return from a voluntary exile in Italy, June 1820, to the great embarrassment of the king and his ministers. Her majesty, who had long been befriended by the Opposition, was received by the people with the warmest expressions of sympathy. Whatever had been blameable in her conduct was overlooked, on account of the greater licentiousness of life ascribed to her husband, and the persecution which she had suffered for twenty-four years. The king, who had established a system of observation round her majesty during her absence from the country, caused a bill of pains and penalties against her to be brought (July 6) into the House of Lords, which thus became a court for her trial. Messrs Brougham and Denman, who afterwards attained high judicial stations, acted as counsel for her majesty, and displayed great dexterity and eloquence in her defense. The examination of witnesses occupied several weeks; and nothing was left undone which might promise to confirm her majesty’s guilt. But no evidence of criminality could soften the indignation with which almost all classes of the community regarded this prosecution. Though the bill was read a second time by a majority of 28 in a house of 218, and a third time by 108 against 99, the government considered it expedient to abandon it, leaving the queen and her partisans triumphant.

In July 1821, the coronation of George IV took place under circumstances of great splendor. On this occasion, the queen made an attempt to enter Westminster Abby, for the purpose of witnessing the ceremony, but was repelled by the military officers who guarded the door; an insult which gave such a shock to her health as to cause her death in a few days.

From the year 1805, the Catholic claims had been a prominent subject of parliamentary discussion, and since 1821 they had been sanctioned by a majority in the House of Commons. Almost despairing of their cause, while left to the progress of mere opinion in the English aristocracy, the Irish Catholics had in 1824 united themselves in an Association, with the scarcely concealed purpose of forcing their emancipation by means of a terrifying exhibition of their physical strength. An act was quickly passed for the suppression of this powerful body; but it immediately reäppeared in a new shape. In fact, the impatience of the Catholic population of Ireland under the disabilities and degradation to which they were subjected on account of religion, was evidently becoming so very great, that there could be little hope of either peace or public order in that country till their demands were conceded. Though the English public lent little weight to the agitation, and the king was decidedly hostile to its object, Catholic emancipation rapidly acquired importance with all classes, and in all parts of the empire. In the spring of 1828, a kind of preparation was made for the concession, by the repeal of the test and corporation oaths, imposed in the reign of Charles II.

The ministry soon after received an alarming proof of the growing force of the question. Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald had vacated his seat for the county of Clare, on becoming president of the Board of Trade. He was a friend to emancipation, and possessed great influence in the county; but he was also a member of an anti-Catholic administration. As an expedient for annoying the ministry, the Catholic Association, and all the local influences on that side, were set in motion to procure the return of Mr. Daniel O’Connell, the most distinguished orator of the Catholic party. To the surprise of the nation, Mr. O’Connell was returned by a great majority. It was even surmised that the laws for the exclusion of Catholics from Parliament would be unable to prevent him from taking his seat. The Duke of Wellington now began to see the necessity of taking steps towards a settlement of this agitating question; and the first, and most difficult, was to overcome the scruples of the sovereign. At the opening of the session of 1829, in consequence of a recommendation from the throne, bills were introduced by ministers for removing the civil disabilities of Catholics, and putting down the Catholic Association in Ireland; and notwithstanding a great popular opposition, as well as the most powerful exertions of the older and more rigid class of Tories, this measure was carried by a majority of 353 against 180 in the House of Commons, and by 217 to 112 in the House of Lords.

REIGN OF WILLIAM IV.

The agitations respecting the Catholic Relief Bill had in some measure subsided, when, June 26, 1830, George IV died of ossification of the vital organs, and was succeeded by his next brother, the Duke of Clarence, under the title of William IV. About a month after, a great sensation was produced in Britain by a revolution which took place in France, the main line of the Bourbon family being expelled, and the crown conferred upon Louis-Philippe, Duke of Orleans. By this event, a great impulse was given to the reforming spirit in Britain, and the demands for an improvement in the parliamentary representation became very strong. The consequence was the retirement of the Wellington administration in November, and the formation of a Whig cabinet, headed by Earl Grey. The agitations of the time were much increased by a system of nocturnal fire-raising, which spread through the south of England, and caused the destruction of a vast quantity of agricultural produce and machinery.

The Whig ministry came into power upon an understanding that they were to introduce bills for parliamentary reform, with reference to the three divisions of the United Kingdom. These, when presented in March 1831, were found to propose very extensive changes, particularly the disfranchisement of boroughs of small population, for which the members were usually returned by private influence, and the extension of the right of voting in both boroughs and counties to the middle classes of society. The bills accordingly met with strong opposition from the Tory, now called the Conservative party. By a dissolution of Parliament, the ministry found such an accession of supporters as enabled them to carry the measure through the House of Commons with large majorities; but it encountered great difficulties in the House of Lords; and it was not till after a temporary resignation of the ministry, and some strong expressions of popular anxiety respecting reform, that the bills were allowed to become law.

During the few years which followed the passing of the Reform Bills, the attention of Parliament was chiefly occupied by a series of measures which a large portion of the public deemed necessary for improving the institutions of the country, and for other beneficial purposes. The most important of these, in a moral point of view, was the abolition of slavery in the colonies, the sum of twenty millions being paid to the owners of the negroes, as a compensation. By this act, eight hundred thousand slaves were (August 1, 1834) placed in the condition of freemen, but subject to an apprenticeship to their masters for a few years.

In the same year, an act was passed for amending the laws for the support of the poor in England, which had long been a subject of general complaint. One of the chief provisions of the new enactment established a government commission for the superintendence of the local boards of management, which had latterly been ill conducted, and were now proposed to be reformed. The able-bodied poor were also deprived of the right which had been conferred upon them at the end of the eighteenth century, to compel parishes to support them, either by employment at a certain rate, or pecuniary aid to the same amount: they were now left no resource, failing employment, but that of entering poor-houses, where they were separated from their families. The contemplated results of this measure were a reduction of the enormous burden of the poor-rates, which had latterly exceeded seven millions annually, and a check to the degradation which indiscriminate support was found to produce in the character of the laboring classes.

Early in 1837, the ministry again introduced into the House of Commons a bill for settling the Irish tithe question; but before this or any other measure of importance had been carried, the king died of ossification of the vital organs (June 20), in the seventy-third year of his age, and seventh of his reign, being succeeded by his niece, the Princess Victoria. The deceased monarch is allowed to have been a conscientious and amiable man, not remarkable for ability, but at the same time free from all gross faults.

COMMENCEMENT OF THE PRESENT REIGN.

Queen Victoria began to reign June 20, 1837, having just completed her eighteenth year; was crowned on the 28th of June in the following year; and was married to her cousin, Prince Albert of Coburg and Gotha, February 10, 1840. In the autumns of 1842, ‘44, ‘47, and ‘48, her majesty visited Scotland, but on each occasion more in a private than in a state capacity; residing at the mansions of the nobility that lay in her route to the Highlands, where the Prince Consort enjoyed the invigorating sports of grouse-shooting and deer-stalking. In 1843 she paid a visit, entirely divested of state formalities, to the late royal family of France; and shortly after made another to her uncle, the king of the Belgians. In 1845, besides making the tour of the English midland counties, the royal pair visited the family of Prince Albert at Coburg and Gotha; receiving the attentions of the various German powers that lay on their outward and homeward route. Her majesty has received in turn the friendly visits of several crowned heads, among whom have been the ex-king of the French, Leopold of Belgium, the king of Saxony, and the emperor of Russia. Such interchanges and attentions are not without their importance; at all events they are characteristic of a new era in the international history of Europe.

The Whig ministry and measures, which had for some time been on the decline, were set aside by a vote of ‘no confidence’ in the summer of 1841; a dissolution of Parliament was the consequence; and after the new elections, the Opposition was found to be so far in the ascendancy, that Viscount Melbourne tendered his resignation, and retired from public life, leaving Sir Robert Peel again to take the helm of affairs. The Parliament of 1841, under the direction of the Peel ministry, was in many respects one of the most important during the reigning dynasty. Besides passing several measures of benefit to the internal management of the country, it established, by the abolition of the corn-laws and other restrictive duties, the principles of free trade, and in that course Britain has since been followed by other nations; it gave, by the imposition of a property and income tax, a preference to the doctrine of direct taxation; it countenanced in all its diplomatic negotiations the duties and advantages of a peace policy; and engaged less with political theories than with practical and business-like arrangements for the commerce, health, and education of the country. In consequence of ministerial differences, Sir Robert Peel tendered his resignation as premier in June 1846, and was succeeded in office by Lord John Russell, to whom was assigned the further task of carrying out the principles of free trade, of legislating for Ireland in a time of dearth and famine (caused by successive failures of the potato crop), and of adopting some plan of national education—​a subject which has been too long neglected in this otherwise great and prosperous empire.

Since the accession of her majesty, Britain has been on the most friendly terms with the other nations of Europe—​coöperating with them in the extension and liberation of commerce, the continuance of peace, the suppression of slavery, and the advancement of other measures of importance to civilization. The disputed boundaries between British America and the United States have been determined by friendly negotiation; thus giving permanency in the new world as well as in the old to the spirit of peace and national brotherhood.

WAR WITH RUSSIA—​ALLIANCE OF ENGLAND, FRANCE AND TURKEY.

On the 12th of March, 1854, a treaty of alliance between England, France, and the Porte, was signed by the representatives of those powers.

The treaty consists of five articles. By the first, France and England engage to support Turkey in her present struggle with Russia, by force of arms, until the conclusion of a peace which shall secure the independence of the Ottoman empire, and the integrity of the rights of the Sultan. The two protecting Powers undertake not to derive from the actual crisis, or from the negotiations which may terminate it, any exclusive advantage. By the second article the Porte, on its side, pledges itself not to make peace under any circumstances without having previously obtained the consent and solicited the participation of the two Powers, and also to employ all its resources to carry on the war with vigor. In the third article the two Powers promise to evacuate, immediately after the conclusion of the war, and on the demand of the Porte, all the points of the empire which their troops shall have occupied during the war. By the fourth article the treaty remains open for the signature of the other Powers of Europe who may wish to become parties to it; and the fifth article guarantees to all the subjects of the Porte, without distinction of religion, equality in the eye of the law, and admissibility into all employments. To this treaty are attached, as integral parts of it, several protocols. One relates to the institution of mixed tribunals throughout the whole empire; a second is relative to an advance of 20,000,000fr. jointly by France and England; and a third relates to the collection of the taxes and the suppression of the haratch or poll-tax, which, having been considered for a long time past by the Turkish Government as only the purchase of exemption from military service, leads, by its abolition, to the entrance of Christians into the army.

The Russians continued to prosecute the war eagerly on the banks of the Danube, but any temporary success was more than counterbalanced by subsequent and more brilliant Turkish victories.

In consequence of the atrocious conduct of the military authorities of Odessa, in firing upon an English flag of truce, a division of English and French steam frigates appeared before Odessa. On their arrival the greatest terror pervaded the city. The wealthy hired all the post-horses to remove to the interior, and the inhabitants sought refuge in the neighboring country; but the English and French steamers having withdrawn, after taking a survey of the roads, the alarm subsided, the population returned, and the shops were reöpened. On the 21st of April, however, the appearance of thirty-three sail on the horizon created still greater terror, for it was evident that they were coming to avenge the insult above alluded to, and which, even at Odessa, was the subject of universal reprobation. The next day nothing could exceed the consternation, everybody being in constant apprehension of a catastrophe. The fears redoubled when after a bombardment of eight hours, the gunpowder magazine blew up, and the military stores were seen on fire. The sight of wounded soldiers brought in from the batteries, and the brutality of the governor and his forces towards the inhabitants, were not calculated to allay their terror. This affair produced great discouragement among the troops, and an excellent effect on the population, who perceived that the Russian army was unable to protect them; and that, if the city were not reduced to ashes, it was solely owing to the generosity of the allied Powers.

On the 14th June, the Duke of Cambridge with his staff, the brigade of Guards, and the Highland brigade (42d, 79th, and 93d regiments), arrived at Varna, where a numerous Anglo-French army was already encamped. It is probable that the unexpected and retrograde movement of the Russians upon the Pruth—​intelligence of which reached the allied generals about this time—​occasioned a deviation from the plan of operations originally contemplated, as it obviated the necessity of any active coöperation with Omer Pacha’s army on the Danube. An expedition upon a gigantic scale was, however, planned, its destination being the Crimea and Sebastopol.

The result of the Baltic operations may be given in few words. The fleet of the Czar, outnumbered by that of the allied powers, was detained in captivity at Helsingfors and Kronstadt, declining alike every offer of battle, and unable to stay the devastation that was effected along the Finnish shore of the Bothnian Gulf. Scarcely a Russian merchant vessel escaped the vigilance of the cruisers; and the whole line of her coasts, up to the shoals of Kettle Island, were shown to be at the mercy of the allies. In a national point of view, there was not much to boast of in the achievements of so stupendous a fleet. But there were individual acts of valor as bright as any that adorn the pages of naval history.

Until the last twelvemonth opened a new page in history, it could not have been anticipated that the battle-field of Europe would be a little arid peninsula in the remotest corner of the Black Sea, and that the armies of Britain, France, Turkey, and Russia would be concentrated in direct strife around a fortress, whose very name was hardly known in this country before the present war broke out.

Connected with the barren steppes of the mainland of Southern Russia only by the narrow strip of flat and sandy land, not five miles across, which constitutes the Isthmus of Perekop, the Crimea stretches out in a nearly northerly direction, in the form of a diamond-shaped peninsula, about one-third the size of Ireland. At its western point is Cape Tarkham; at its eastern, Kertch and Kaffa, and in the south, the bay, town, and fortress of Sebastopol.

At least one third of the Crimea consists of vast waterless plains of sandy soil, rising only a few feet above the level of the sea, and in many places impregnated with salt; but all along the south-eastern side of the peninsula, from Sebastopol to Kertch and Kaffa, there extends a chain of limestone mountains. Beginning at Balaklava, nine miles east of Sebastopol, precipices fringe all this north-eastern coast; but at the foot of these limestone precipices extends a narrow strip of ground, seldom half a league in width, intervening between the hills and the shore. It is in this picturesque and delightful region that the Allied army established its base of operations. A luxuriant vegetation descends to the water’s edge. Chesnut trees, mulberries, almonds, laurels, olives, and cypresses grow along its whole extent. Numbers of rivulets of the clearest water pour down from the cliffs, which effectually keep off cold and stormy winds. Thickly studded with villages, and adorned with the villas and palaces of the richest Russian nobles, this tract offers a most striking contrast to the remainder of the peninsula or indeed to any part of Russia.

The possession of the Crimea, and the construction of a maratime fortress of the first order in the magnificent harbor of Akhtiar (for such was the former name of Sebastopol) were prominent parts of that vast scheme of policy, by which the genius of the Czar Peter, and his successors, transformed Muscovy into the Russian Empire.

The ever-memorable expedition of the Allies, designed to wrench this fortress and fleet from the possession of the Czar, set sail from Varna in the first week of September, 1854. No naval expedition ever before equaled it.

In the bay of Baltjik, where the expedition first rendezvoused, the sea was literally covered for a space of eight miles long with splendid shipping. Thirty-seven sail of the line—​ten English, sixteen French, and eleven Turkish, about a hundred frigates and lesser vessels of war, and nearly two hundred of the finest steam and sailing transports in the world, lay at anchor, in one immense semicircle, nine or ten deep. The great line of battle-ships, with lights gleaming from every port, looked like illuminated towns afloat; while the other vessels, with position-lights hoisted at the main and fore, shed a light upon the sea, twinkling away until lost in the distance. Each division of the army carried lights, corresponding to the number of their division, and at night, when every ship was lighted up the scene was of the most extraordinary and interesting description. Constantinople, during the feast of Bairam, or the feast of Lamps, described in Moore’s poems, would have been a worthy illustration.

On the 4th of September, 1854, six hundred vessels sailed from Varna, bearing the combined army of 60,000 in the direction of Sebastopol: at the same time intelligence was received by the commanders of a signal victory obtained by Schamyl at Tiflis, over the Russians under Prince Bebutoff. They lost on this occasion many men and horses, seven guns, 3000 tents, all their amunition, baggage, provisions, and retreated in some disorder from Kutais and Kars to Taflis.

On the 14th September, 58,000 men were landed at Eupatoria, about forty-five miles N. W. of Sebastopol. They subsequently advanced some distance inland without meeting with any opposition.

The place of debarkation had many advantages. It is a small town, containing only 4,000 inhabitants, weakly defended by a garrison of about 12,000 men, and in no condition to resist an invasion such as this. The commanders had intended, in the first place, to have thrown up entrenchments sufficiently strong to secure the place; but having experienced no resistance, the troops marched at once towards their destination. In this march they proceeded for about eleven miles, along a slip of land, having on the left the salt lake Sasik, and the sea on their right.

The country traversed is fertile, and well supplied with water by three rivers, the Alma, the Katcha, and the Balbek. On the left, or southern bank of the latter stream, the first obstacles encountered were the outworks recently thrown up by the Russians, and an old star fort. Having surmounted these, the Allies found themselves in possession of the high ground commanding the rear of the defenses on the northern shore of the inlet, and they were scarcely adapted to resist a strong attack.

As the Black Sea expedition was departing from Varna for the Crimea, the Baltic fleet, or the greater part of it, received orders to “bear up” for England.

On the night of the 18th September, 1854, orders were given by Lord Raglan that the troops should strike tents at daybreak. An advance had been determined upon, and it was understood that the Russian light cavalry had been sweeping the country of all supplies up to a short distance from the outlaying pickets.

At three o’clock next morning, the camp was roused by the reveille, and all the 30,000 sleepers woke into active life. Of Turkish infantry, 7,000 under Suleiman Pacha moved along by the sea side; next came the divisions of Generals Bosquet, Canrobert, Forey, and Prince Napoleon. The order of march of the English army was about four miles to the right of their left wing, and as many behind them. The right of the allied forces was covered by the fleet, which moved along with it in magnificent order, darkening the air with innumerable columns of smoke, ready to shell the enemy should they attack the right, and commanding the land for nearly two miles from the shore.

The troops presented a splendid appearance. The effect of these grand masses of soldiery descending the ridges of the hills, rank after rank, with the sun playing over forests of glittering steel, can never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. Onward the torrent of war swept, wave after wave, huge stately billows of armed men; while the rumbling of the artillery, and the tramp of cavalry, accompanied their progress. A halt took place about three o’clock, at a muddy stream, of which the men drank with avidity. At this stage they passed the Imperial post-house, twenty miles from Sebastopol.

Orders were given to halt and bivouac for the night, which was cold and damp, but the men were in excellent spirits, looking forward to the probability of an engagement with the enemy with perfect confidence as to the result.

On the morning of the 20th, ere daybreak, the whole force was under arms. They were marshaled silently; no bugles or drums broke the stillness; but the hum of thousands of voices rose loudly from the ranks, and the watchfires lighted up the lines of the camp as though it were a great town. When dawn broke it was discovered that the Russians had retired from the heights. It was known that the Russians had been busy fortifying the heights over the valley through which runs the little river Alma, and that they had resolved to try their strength with the allied army in a position giving them vast advantages of ground, which they had used every means in their power to improve to the utmost. The advance of the armies this great day was a sight which must ever stand out like a landmark of the spectator’s life. Early in the morning, the troops were ordered to get in readiness, and at half-past six o’clock they were in motion. It was a lovely day; the heat of the sun was tempered by a sea breeze. The fleet was visible at a distance of four miles, covering the ocean as it was seen between the hills, and steamers could be seen as close to the shore as possible. The Generals, St Arnaud, Bosquet, and Forey, attended by their staff, rode along the lines, with Lord Raglan and his Generals at second halt, and were received with tremendous cheering.

The order in which the army advanced was in columns of brigades in deploying distance; the left protected by a line of skirmishers of cavalry and of horse artillery. The advantage of the formation was, that the army, in case of a strong attack from cavalry and infantry on the left or rear, could assume the form of a hollow square, with the baggage in the centre. The great object was to gain the right of the position, so that the attacking parties could be sheltered by the vertical fire of the fleets. As soon as the position of the allies could be accurately ascertained, the whole line, extending itself across the champaign country for some five or six miles, advanced. At the distance of two miles the English army halted to obtain a little time to gather up the rear; and then the troops steadily advanced in grand lines, like the waves of the ocean.

The French occupied the high road, nearest the beach, with the Turks; and the English marched to the left. At about one o’clock in the afternoon, the Light Division of the French army came in sight of the village of Almatamak, and the British Light Division descried that of Burliuk, both situated on the right bank of the river Alma.

At the place where the bulk of the British army crossed, the banks of the Alma are generally at the right side, and vary from two and three to six and eight feet in depth to the water; where the French attacked, the banks are generally formed by the unvaried curve of the river on the left hand side. A village is approached from the north by a road winding through a plain nearly level till it comes near the village, where the ground dips, so that at the distance of three hundred yards a man on horseback can hardly see the tops of the nearer and more elevated houses, and can only ascertain the position of the stream by the willows and verdure along its banks. At the left or south side of the Alma the ground assumes a very different character—​smooth where the bank is deep, and greatly elevated where the shelve of the bank occurs, it recedes for a few yards at a moderate height above the stream, pierced here and there by the course of the winter’s torrents, so as to form small ravines, commanded, however, by the heights above. It was on these upper heights, and to the sea, that the Russian army, forty-five thousand strong, besides six or eight thousand cavalry, and at least a hundred pieces of artillery, were posted. A remarkable ridge of mountains, varying in height from 500 to 700 feet, runs along the course of the Alma on the left or south side with the course of the stream, and assuming the form of cliffs when close to the sea. At the top of the ridges, between the gullies, the Russians had erected earthwork batteries, mounted with 32lb. and 24lb. brass guns, supported by numerous field pieces and howitzers. These guns enfiladed the tops of the ravines parallel to them, or swept them to the base, while the whole of the sides up which an enemy, unable to stand the direct fire of the batteries, would be forced to ascend, were filled with masses of skirmishers, armed with an excellent two-grooved rifle, throwing a large solid conical ball with force at 700 and 800 yards, as the French learned to their cost. The principal battery consisted of an earthwork of the form of the two sides of a triangle, with the apex pointed towards the bridge, and the sides covering both sides of the stream, corresponding with the bend of the river below it, at the distance of 1000 yards; while, with a fair elevation, the 32-pounders threw, very often, beyond the houses of the village to the distance of 1400 and 1500 yards. This was constructed on the brow of a hill about 600 feet above the river, but the hill rose behind it for another 50 feet before it dipped away towards the road. The ascent of this hill was enfiladed by the fire of three batteries of earthwork on the right, and by another on the left, and these batteries were equally capable of covering the village, the stream, and the slopes which led up the hill to their position. In the first battery were thirteen 32-pounder brass guns of exquisite workmanship, which only told too well. In the other batteries were some twenty-five guns in all.

The force of the British was about 26,000, that of the French about 23,000.

It had not escaped the observation of the allied Commanders that the Russian General had relied so confidently on the natural strength of his position towards the sea where the cliff rose steep and high above the gardens of an adjacent village, that he had neglected to defend this part of his works by masses of troops or by heavy guns. These military defenses were, on the contrary, accumulated on his right and centre. The plan of the battle was therefore formed so as to enable the French, and a Turkish division, in the first instance, to turn the Russian left, and gain the plateau; and, as soon as this operation was accomplished, so as to occupy a portion of the Russian army, the British troops and the French Third Division were to attack the key of the position on the right of the enemy, while the French completed his defeat on the upper ground.

General Bosquet’s division crossed the river Alma near the mouth about 11:30; the Turkish battalions crossing at the same time close to the bar, and within musket range of the beach. This movement was unopposed; and, although a crowd of French skirmishers and light-infantry crossed the gardens and brushwood below the hill, which might easily have been defended, not a shot was fired on them, and not a gun seemed to bear on the line of march they followed. It was afterwards ascertained from the Russian prisoners, that Prince Menschikoff had left this line unguarded, because he regarded it as absolutely impassable even for goats. He did not know the Zouaves. With inconceivable rapidity and agility they swarmed up the cliff, and it was not till they formed on the height, and deployed from behind a mound there, that the Russian batteries opened upon them. The fire was returned with great spirit, and a smart action ensued, during which General Bosquet’s division was engaged for some time almost alone, until General Canrobert came to his support. The Turkish division, which presented a very martial appearance, and was eager to fight, formed part of the army under the command of Marshal St. Arnaud; and some regret was felt by these brave troops that they had no active part assigned to them in the struggle.

While the French troops were scaling the heights, the French steamers ran in as close as they could to the bluff of the shore at the south side of the Alma, and commenced shelling the Russians in splendid style; the shells bursting over the enemy’s squares and batteries, and finally driving them from their position on the right, within 3000 yards of the sea. The Russians answered the ships from the heights, but without effect.

At 1:50 a line of skirmishers got within range of the battery on the hill, and immediately the Russians opened fire at 1200 yards, with effect, the shot ploughing through open lines of the riflemen, and falling into the advancing columns behind. Shortly ere this time, dense volumes of smoke rose from the river, and drifted along to the eastward, interfering with the view of the enemy on the left. The Russians had set the village on fire. It was a fair exercise of military skill—​was well executed—​took place at the right time, and succeeded in occasioning a good deal of annoyance. It is said the Russians had taken the range of all the principal points in their front, and placed twigs and sticks to mark them. In this they were assisted by the post sign-boards on the road. The Russians opened a furious fire on the whole English line. The round shot whizzed in every direction, dashing up the dirt and sand into the faces of the staff of Lord Raglan. Still he waited patiently for the development of the French attack. At length, an Aid-de-Camp came to him and reported the French had crossed the Alma, but they had not established themselves sufficiently to justify an attack. The infantry were, therefore, ordered to lie down, and the army for a short time was quite passive, only that the artillery poured forth an unceasing fire of shell, rockets, and round shot, which plowed through the Russians, and caused them great loss. They did not waver, however, and replied to the artillery manfully, their shot falling among the men as they lay, and carrying off legs and arms at every round.

Lord Raglan at last became weary of this inactivity, and gave orders for the whole line to advance. Up rose these serried masses, and—​passing through a fearful shower of round, case-shot and shell—​they dashed into the Alma and ‘floundered’ through its waters, which were literally torn into foam by the deadly hail. At the other side of the river were a number of vineyards, occupied by Russian riflemen. Three of the staff were here shot down; but, led by Lord Raglan in person, they advanced, cheering on the men. And now came the turning point of the battle, in which Lord Raglan, by his sagacity, probably secured the victory at a smaller sacrifice than would have been otherwise the case. He dashed over the bridge, followed by his staff. From the road over it, under the Russian guns, he saw the state of the action. The British line, which he had ordered to advance, was struggling through the river and up the heights in masses, firm indeed, but mowed down by the murderous fire of the batteries; and by grape, round shot, shell, canister, case-shot, and musketry, from some of the guns in the central battery, and from an immense and compact mass of Russian infantry.

Then commenced one of the most bloody and determined struggles in the annals of war. The 2d Division, led by Sir de Lacy Evans, crossed the stream on the right. Brigadier Pennefather (who was in the thickest of the fight, cheering on his men), again and again was checked, but never drew back in his onward progress, which was marked by a fierce roll of Minié musketry; and Brigadier Adams bravely charged up the hill, and aided him in the battle. Sir George Brown, conspicuous on a gray horse, rode in front of his Light Division, urging them with voice and gesture. Meantime the Guards on the right of the Light Division, and the brigade of Highlanders, were storming the heights on the left. Suddenly a tornado of round and grape rushed through from the terrible battery, and a roar of musketry from behind it thinned their front ranks by dozens. It was evident that the troops were just able to contend against the Russians, favored as they were by a great position. At this very time an immense mass of Russian infantry were seen moving down towards the battery. They halted. It was the crisis of the day. Sharp, angular, and solid, they looked as if they were cut out of the solid rock. Lord Raglan saw the difficulties of the situation. He asked if it would be possible to get a couple of guns to bear on these masses. The reply was ‘Yes;’ and an artillery officer brought up two guns to fire on the Russian squares. The first shot missed, but the next, and the next, and the next, cut through the ranks so cleanly, and so keenly, that a clear lane could be seen for a moment through the square. After a few rounds the columns of the square became broken, wavered to and fro, broke, and fled over the brow of the hill, leaving behind them six or seven distinct lines of dead, lying as close as possible to each other, marking the passage of the fatal messengers. This act relieved the infantry of a deadly incubus, and they continued their magnificent and fearless progress up the hill. ‘Highlanders,’ said Sir C. Campbell, ere they came to the charge, ‘don’t pull a trigger till you’re within a yard of the Russians!’ They charged, and well they obeyed their chieftain’s wish; Sir Colin had his horse shot under him; but he was up immediately, and at the head of his men. But the Guards pressed on abreast, and claimed, with the 33d, the honor of capturing a cannon. The Second and Light Division crowned the heights. The French turned the guns on the hill against the flying masses, which the cavalry in vain tried to cover. A few faint struggles from the scattered infantry, a few rounds of cannon and musketry, and the enemy fled to the south-east, leaving three Generals, three guns, 700 prisoners, and 4000 killed and wounded, behind them.

The loss on the part of the British was 2000 killed, wounded, and missing; that of the French, about 1400.

On the night after the battle the allied army bivouacked on the summit of the heights which they had so gloriously won; the French Marshal pitching his tent on the very spot occupied by that of Prince Menschikoff the morning before.

On the 23d the Allied armies left the Alma and proceeded to cross the Katscha; on the 24th they crossed the Belbec, where it had been intended to effect the landing of the siege materiel with a view to an attack on the north side of Sebastopol. It was found, however, that the enemy had placed a fortified work so as to prevent the vessels and transports from approaching this river; and it was determined to advance at once by a flank march round the east of Sebastopol, to cross the valley of the Tchernaya, and seize Balaklava as the future basis of operations against the south side of the harbor at Sebastopol.

The enemy did not hold Balaklava in any strength. After a few shots the little garrison surrendered, and as Sir E. Lyon’s ship, the Agamemnon, reached the mouth of the harbor at the very time that the troops appeared on the heights, the British army was once more in full communication with the fleet.

The march of the French army which followed in the track of the British, was more prolonged and fatiguing. They did not reach the Tchernaya river until the 26th, having passed the previous night at Mackenzie’s Farm. It was on this day that the French marshal, at length succumbing to his fatal malady, issued his last order of the day, in which he took leave formally of his troops, and resigned the command into the hands of General Canrobert.

Having swept the enemy from their path by the bloody triumphs of the Alma, the next step of the Allies was to lay siege to Sebastopol.

The bay of Balaklava, which now became the principal base of their operations, is a place admirably suited for the landing of stores and materiel. As a port it is the most perfect of its size in the world. The entrance is between perpendicular cliffs, rising eight hundred feet high on either hand, and is only wide enough to allow the passage of one ship at a time; but once in you find yourself in a land-locked tideless haven, still as a mountain lake, three quarters of a mile in length, by two hundred and fifty yards wide, and nowhere less than six fathoms deep, so that every square foot of its surface is available for ships of the greatest burden.

The bay of Balaklava was instantly adopted as the new base of operations of the British army, and never before did its waters mirror so many tall ships on their bosom.

From fifty to a hundred war-ships and transports were constantly at anchor, landing the siege-guns, stores, and provisions of all kinds. The only access to Balaklava from the land side is at the inner end of the bay, through a breach in the surrounding hills, which gradually opens out into an extensive valley, about three miles long by about two broad; it was in this valley that the serious part of the combat of the 25th October took place. Through this valley runs the road to the Tchernaya and Mackenzie’s Farm, by which the Allies advanced to Balaklava, and which on the other side of the Tchernaya enters deep gorges in the mountains. On the side next the sea this valley is bounded by a line of hills stretching from Balaklava to Inkerman, and along the summit of which runs the road to Sebastopol. Another road in the opposite direction conducts to the valley of Baider, the most fertile district of the Crimea.

The port of Balaklava having been found barely large enough for the landing of the British stores and guns, the French selected as their base of operations the three deep bays lying between Cape Chersonesus and Sebastopol bay. The country between Balaklava and Sebastopol, upon which the Allied army encamped, is a barren hilly steppe, destitute of water, and covered with no better herbage than thistles. The French took up their position next the sea; the British inland, next the Tchernaya. The front of the besieging force extended in a continuous line from the mouth of the Tchernaya to the sea at Strelitska bay, forming nearly a semicircle around Sebastopol, at a distance of about two miles from the enemy’s works. The position was found to be close enough, as the Russian guns were found to throw shells to the distance of four thousand yards. A most unfortunate delay took place in landing and bringing up the siege guns and stores of the Allies; a delay which was improved to the utmost by the Russians, who kept large bands of citizens, and even women, as well as the garrison, at work in relays both night and day, in throwing up a vast exterior line of earthen redoubts and entrenchments, and in covering the front of their stone-works with earth.

The force disposable for the defense of Sebastopol was nearly equal in number to the besieging army; and as, from the nature of its position, the place could only be invested upon one side, supplies of all kinds could be conveyed into the town, and the Russian generals could either man the works with their whole forces, or direct incessant attacks against the flank and rear of the allies.

Never did any army ever undertake so vast and perilous an enterprise as that in which the allied commanders found themselves engaged.

Sebastopol is situated at the southern point of the Crimea, which puts out into the Black Sea, and is distant from Odessa, 192 miles; from Varna, 295, and from Constantinople, 343.

It is one of the most modern creations of the Czar, and stands, like an advanced post, near to Cape Chersonese—​its site, until 1786, having been occupied by a few straggling huts. Catherine II, on her accession, perceived its natural advantages as a naval port, the first stone was laid in 1780, and from that period it has rapidly increased in strength and importance. On doubling the Cape, bordered with a vast chain of rocks and breakers, Sebastopol appears about six and a half miles to the east—​a remarkable picture, on account of its white cliffs, and the amphitheatrical appearance of the town.

The port of Sebastopol consists of a bay running in a south-easterly direction, about four miles long, and a mile wide at the entrance, diminishing to 400 yards at the end, where the Tchernaya or Black River empties itself. On the southern coast of this bay are the commercial, military, and careening harbors, the quarantine harbor being outside the entrance—​all these taking a southerly direction, and having deep water. The military harbor is the largest, being about a mile and a half long by 400 yards wide, and is completely land-locked on every side. Here it is that the Black Sea fleet is moored in the winter—​the largest ships being able to lie with all their stores on board close to the quays. The small harbor, which contains the naval arsenal and docks, is on the eastern side of the military harbor, near the entrance. The port is defended to the south by six principal batteries and fortresses, each mounting from 50 to 190 guns; and the north by four, having from 18 to 120 pieces each; and besides these, there are many smaller batteries. The fortresses are built on the casemate principle, three of them having three tiers of guns, and a fourth two tiers. Fort St. Nicholas is the largest, and mounts about 190 guns. It is built of white limestone; a fine, sound stone, which becomes hard, and is very durable, the same material being used for all the other forts. Between every two casemates are furnaces for heating shot red hot. The calibre of the guns is eight inches, capable of throwing shells or 68-pounds solid shot.

There were in the military harbor of Sebastopol twelve line-of-battle ships, eight frigates, and seven corvettes, comprising the Black Sea fleet, independent of steamers.

The town of Sebastopol is situated on the point of land between the commercial and military harbors, which rises gradually from the water’s edge to an elevation of 200 feet, and contains 31,500 inhabitants. Including the military and marines, the residents numbered 40,000. It is more than a mile in length, and its greatest width is about three-quarters of a mile—​the streets entering the open steppe on the south. The streets are built in parallel lines from north to south, are intersected by others from east and west, and the houses, being of limestone, have a substantial appearance. The public buildings are fine. The library erected by the Emperor, for the use of naval and military officers, is of Grecian architecture, and is elegantly fitted up internally. The books are principally confined to naval and military subjects and the sciences connected with them, history, and some light reading. The club-house is handsome externally, and comfortable within; it contains a large ball-room, which is its most striking feature, and billiard-rooms, which appear to be the great centre of attraction; but one looks in vain for reading rooms, filled with newspapers and journals. There are many good churches, and a fine landing-place of stone from the military harbor, approached on the side of the town, beneath an architrave supported by high columns. It also boasts an Italian opera-house. The eastern side of the town is so steep that the mastheads of the ships cannot be seen until one gets close to them. Very beautiful views are obtained from some parts of the place, and it is altogether agreeably situated. A military band plays every Thursday evening in the public gardens, at which time the fashionables assemble in great numbers.

As Sebastopol is held exclusively as a military and naval position, commerce does not exist; the only articles imported by sea being those required for materials of war, or as provisions for the inhabitants and garrison. On the eastern side of the military harbor, opposite to the town, is a line of buildings consisting of barracks, some store-houses, and a large naval hospital.

The country around Sebastopol sinks gradually down, in a succession of ridges from the position occupied by the Allied army to the town; but for nearly a third of a mile, immediately in front of the town, the ground is quite flat, the ridges there having been long ago leveled by the Russians in order to give no cover to an attacking force. We have said that there is a circuit of five or six hundred yards of level ground immediately around the town, and it was beyond this radius that the Russians threw up their new works, erecting strong redoubts on several elevated positions; the Allies had to open their trenches at the distance of a mile from the body of the place, although within one hundred and twenty yards of the Russian batteries. The French were the first to break ground. At nine at night, on the 9th, the trenches were opened by one thousand six hundred workmen, divided into relief parties, and supported to defend the works. A land wind, and an almost entire absence of moonlight, favored the operations, and by breaking of day 1,014 yards in length were completed, without interruption from the enemy, of sufficient depth to cover the men.

Next night the British broke ground; but this time the garrison were on the alert, and kept up a very heavy but ineffectual fire. The British, who occupied much higher ground than the French, placed their batteries with great skill. The raised mounds or beds of earth, upon which the guns were placed, were erected precisely along the crest of the various ridges on which the batteries were planted, and, when finished, showed only the muzzle of the guns over the brow of the ridge, so as to present little to the direct fire of the enemy.

The besiegers’ batteries were now drawing near completion; and the governor of Sebastopol had sent a request to Lord Raglan, that he would spare the inhabitants by not firing upon the civilian part of the city, to which he replied, that he would grant a safe-conduct to such of the inhabitants as were desirous of leaving, but would promise nothing as to his mode of attack, save that the buildings marked by the yellow flag should be respected as hospitals.

Every means was adopted to keep up the spirits of the garrison, and balls even were given every other night.

On the 17th of October the dreadful work began, and no one then present will ever forget that memorable scene. The morning dawned slowly; a thick fog hung over the town, and spread far up the heights. Towards six o’clock the mist began to disperse, and the rich clear October sun every instant made objects more and more visible.

In the Allied lines, all the artillerymen were at their pieces, and as the iron muzzles of the guns became visible through the fog in the now unmasked embrasures, a scattering and fast-increasing fire was opened upon them from the Russian lines. Soon the Russian works, crowded with grey figures, could be seen below, with, in rear, the large handsome white houses and dockyards of Sebastopol itself. Slowly, like the drawing back of a huge curtain, the mist moved off seaward, a cool morning breeze sprang up, and the atmosphere became clear and bright. Around were the wide extending lines of the besiegers, sloping down from the elevated ridges held by the British to the low grounds on the coast occupied by the French. Facing them below was the continuous line of Russian intrenchments of earthwork, interspersed with redoubts and stone towers, and loop-holed walls, with the line-of-battle ships showing their broadsides in the harbor; and beyond all, the open sea, bearing on its bosom, like a dark belt, the immense armada of the Allied fleet.

At half-past six, the preconcerted signal of three shells went up, one after another, from a French battery, and the next instant the whole Allied batteries opened simultaneously. On the side of the British, seventy-three, and of the French, fifty-three, in all one hundred and twenty-six guns, one-half of which were of the very heaviest calibre, launched their thunders on the side of the Allies; while upwards of two hundred replied in one deafening roar from the Russian lines. Two long lines of belching flame and smoke appeared, and through the space between hurled a shower of shot and shell, while the earth shook with the thunders of the deadly volleys.

Distinctly amidst the din could be heard the immense Lancaster guns, which here, for the first time, gave evidence of their tremendous powers. Their sharp report, heard among the other heavy guns, was like the crack of a rifle among muskets. But the most singular thing was the sound of their ball, which rushed through the air with the noise and regular beat precisely like the passage of a rapid railway train at close distance—​a peculiarity which, at first, excited shouts of laughter from the men, who nicknamed it the express-train. The effect of the shot was terrific; from its deafening and peculiar noise, the ball could be distinctly traced by the ear to the spot where it struck, when stone or earth were seen to go down before it.

The first few minutes’ firing sufficed to show to each side, what neither had as yet accurately known, the actual strength of its opponents; and it now appeared, that even in the extent of the earthwork batteries thrown up since the siege began, the Russians immensely surpassed their besiegers. Besides their stone forts, and a long line of intrenchments, guns of heavy calibre had been planted on every ridge and height; and as fresh batteries were unmasked one after another, often in places totally unexpected, the Allied generals were completely taken by surprise at the magnitude of the defenses.

Opposite to the French lines, the main strength of the Russians lay in the Flag-staff batteries, erected upon a hill commanding the French works. They consisted of two tiers of intrenchments, each mounting about twenty-five guns, the upper of which tier of cannon was unknown to the besiegers until it opened fire; with several large mortars placed on the summit of the hill. And on the extreme right of the Russian lines was a ten-gun battery, most commandingly placed, so as to enfilade the French lines. In this quarter the Russians had not only a great advantage in point of position, but also their guns out-numbered those of the French, and it soon became evident that the French were fighting at a disadvantage, and were dreadfully galled in flank by the ten-gun battery. Suddenly, a little after nine o’clock, there came a loud explosion,—​a dense cloud of smoke was seen hanging over one of the French batteries, and the Russians were observed on the parapets of their works cheering vigorously. The flank fire of the ten-gun battery had blown up one of the French magazines, killing or wounding about fifty men, and blowing the earthwork to atoms.

The British batteries were more successful. The principal works opposed to them were on their right front, the Round fort, a Martello tower, which had been faced up with earth. A battery of twenty heavy guns was planted on the top of this tower, and exterior earthwork intrenchments had been thrown up around it, mounted with artillery of heavy calibre. Next, nearly opposite the British centre, was the three-decker, the Twelve Apostles, placed across the harbor creek; and facing their left was the Redan redoubt, carrying about forty cannon, likewise surrounded by intrenchments armed with numerous guns. On the British side, the principal redoubts were the Crown battery, of 27 guns, in the centre, fronting the Twelve Apostles, and the Green-Mound battery, opposite the Redan redoubt.

At half-past three, a red-hot shot from the Russian three-decker, the Twelve Apostles, struck a powder wagon in the Crown battery, which exploded, killing one or two men, but leaving the works of the battery uninjured. The Russians cheered as before, imagining the same injury had been done, as previously to the French.

But while they were still cheering, a shell from the Green Mound battery lodged in the powder magazine of the Redan redoubt, and blew it up with a tremendous explosion. A white livid flame suddenly shot high into the air, followed by a report that made the very earth tremble in the Allied lines, and the next minute its garrison of hundreds, blown to atoms, were discovered strewing the ground to a distance around. ‘In the midst of a dense volume of smoke and sparks,’ says an eye-witness, ‘which resembled a water-spout ascending to the clouds, were visible to the naked eye, arms, legs, trunks, and heads, of the Russian warriors, mingled with cannons, wheels, and every object of military warfare, and, indeed, every living thing it contained.’ So powerful was the effect which this explosion produced on the morale of the besiegers, which had been somewhat depressed by the misfortunes of the day, that the enthusiasm displayed was almost of a frantic nature. Both the English and French troops, as well as officers, doffed their caps, and threw them high into the air, at the same time giving a shout which might have been heard at Balaklava, a league off. The Russians, however, were nowise daunted, and resumed their fire with undiminished energy.

While this terrific cannonade was going on by land, the Allied fleets were seen bearing down upon the strong forts which defend the mouth of the harbor. It had been arranged between the Admirals and Generals, that as soon as the attention of the Russians had been attracted to the landward attack, the fleets should move forward and take part in a general assault. The French took the Quarantine fort, and other works on the south side of the entrance to Sebastopol bay, and the British took Fort Constantine and the works on the north side.

By half-past one o’clock, the action was fairly commenced, and the conjoined roar from the guns of the fleet and in the forts, echoed by the thunders of the rival batteries on shore, baffled the imagination. Never before in the world’s history was such a cannonade witnessed—​even the tremendous cannonade of Leipsic and Trafalgar fades into insignificance before so gigantic a strife. The fleets advanced to the attack in two lines—​the British from the north, the French from the south.

Directly the vessels came within 2,000 yards, the forts opened fire, which the Allies never attempted to reply to until they took up their positions. The cannonade of the French was terrific and continuous; enveloped in smoke, they kept up whole salvoes, which was terrific, the smoke being lit up by the volleys of flashes, and the roar of cannon continuous. The Turks followed the French in this sometimes in whole broadsides, again their fire running continuously along the line. There was less of this with the English ships, whose style of firing appeared less awful, but more business-like. The Russians used red-hot shot, rockets, combustible shell, and bar-shot; and the terrible effects of these soon made themselves apparent. The bar-shot cut the masts, spars, and rigging to pieces, and the rockets and red-hot shot raised conflagrations in many of the attacking vessels.

The allied vessels met with but little success, and towards night stood out to sea, the Russians cheering vociferously, and redoubling their fire.

Such were the incidents of this memorable opening day of the bombardment.

On the 18th, the fleet did not renew the attack; and as the French batteries were wholly silenced for the time, the enemy were enabled to concentrate a terrific fire upon the British trenches. During the previous day’s firing, the Russians had discovered the weak points of their opponents, as well as their own, and before morning, had erected, with sand-bags, batteries on new and commanding positions.

During the night of the 18th, the French worked incessantly, repaired all their batteries, and again opened fire on the morning of the 19th. Still they were unfortunate. About eleven o’clock a shell from the Russian ten-gun battery once more blew up one of their magazines, killing most of the men in the battery, and dismounting most of the guns; thus most of the French works were again silenced before two o’clock.

The British lines kept up a hot fire throughout the whole day; but though at times nearly one hundred shot and shell were thrown per minute, little or no effect was produced upon the Russian intrenchments. The enemy were provided with a perfectly inexhaustible supply of all the materials requisite for a desperate defense. The instant a shot or shell struck their works the hole was filled up with sand-bags; so that the besieged built up as fast as the besiegers knocked down.

The French had repaired their injuries during the night, but in order to fire with more destructive effect, advanced one strong battery about two hundred yards nearer the enemy. This new advanced battery not only enabled them to maintain their ground, but even to destroy and silence their inveterate assailant, the Russian ten-gun battery.

During the 22d the cannonade from the French lines was incessant, and told with great effect; but early in the day the British batteries received orders to fire only once in eight minutes—​occasioned by a deficiency of ammunition. The Russians worked their guns with great energy and precision, even under the hottest fire, standing to their pieces boldly as on the first day of the siege; and they continued to repair each night the injury done to their works in the previous day. The loss of the Allies up to this point of the siege was about twelve hundred men.

One feature in the memorable siege was the great use made of riflemen by the besieging force, and the extreme gallantry displayed by these men when at work.

Every day parties of skirmishers went out from the Allied lines, and lay under cover among the loose large stones about one thousand yards in advance of the batteries, and within two hundred yards of the Russian defenses.

This compelled the enemy to send out parties to dislodge them, and these, as they advanced for that purpose across the open ground, became exposed to the fire both of the skirmishers and of the trenches, and usually suffered severely.

On one occasion a private in the British lines who had fired his last cartridge, was crouching along the ground to join the nearest covering-party, when two Russians suddenly sprang from behind a rock, and seizing him by the collar, dragged him off towards Sebastopol.

The Russian who escorted him on the left side held in his right hand his own firelock, and in his left the captured Miniè; with a sudden spring the British soldier seized the Russian’s firelock, shot its owner, clubbed his companion, and then, picking up his own Miniè, made off in safety to his own lines. Another of these fellows resolved to do more work on his own account, got away from his company, and crawled up close to a battery under shelter of a bridge. There he lay on his back, and loaded, turning over to fire; until, after killing eleven men, a party of Russians rushed out and he took to his heels; but a volley fired after him leveled him with the earth, and his body was subsequently picked up by his comrades riddled with balls.

Probably 100,000 shot and shell a-day, exclusive of night-firing, was the average amount of projectiles discharged by both parties in the extraordinary siege.

The darkness of the night was constantly interrupted by the bursting of shell or rockets.

The passage of the shells through the air, thrown to an amazing height from the mortars, appeared like that of meteors. To the eye, the shell seems to rise and fall almost perpendicularly; sometimes burning as it turns on its axis, and the fuse disappears in the rotation, with an interrupted pale light; sometimes with a steady light, not unlike the calm luminosity of a planet. As it travels it can be heard, amid the general stillness, uttering in the distance its peculiar sound, like the cry of the curlew. The blue light in a battery announces the starting of a rocket, which pursues its more horizontal course, followed by a fiery train, and rushes through the air with a loud whizzing noise that gives an idea of irresistible energy. So went on, day and night, ceaselessly, this unparalleled bombardment—​a cataract of war, a Niagara of all dread sounds, whose ceaseless booming was heard for long miles around. Ship after ship, nearing the Crimean shores, heard from afar that dull, heavy sound, and all eyes were strained to catch sight of the dread scene, of that valley where the battle of Europe was being fought, where the cannon were ever sounding, and ‘the fire was not quenched.’

While the operations were being carried on around the walls of Sebastopol, events of, if possible, still greater importance were taking place a few miles off, upon the flanks and rear of the investing force. In truth, the Allies were as much besieged as besiegers. For about a fortnight after an affair at the Mackenzie’s Farm, on the 25th of September, nothing had been seen of the enemy, who had retired towards Bakshi-serai to await reinforcements. It was towards the end of the first week of October that the Russians began to assume the offensive. The Allies at first seem to have regarded their position as unassailable; but the enemy, thoroughly acquainted with every foot of the country, and consequently able to advance in the dark, soon showed them their mistake.

At daybreak on the 6th, the Russians made an advance in force, for the purpose of reconnoitering, from the Tchernaya into the valley or plain in rear of the heights occupied by the Allies; and, after surprising, in the grey of the morning, a picket of the Fourth Dragoons, drew off again, having accomplished their object. During the following night, a most daring reconnoissance was made, by a French officer and ten men, who, on their return to camp, reported that they had gone as far as the river Belbec, and had only seen the bivouac of the Russian troops who had made the reconnoissance the preceding day. In order to check further surprises from this quarter, parties of Zouaves and Foot Chasseurs were placed in ambuscade as outposts; every evening at six o’clock four companies of them concealing themselves in a ravine through which the Russians would advance, and remaining there until daybreak next morning.

The enemy, however, forsaking the line of attack by the road from Mackenzie’s Farm, now began to appear among the mountains directly in rear of the Allied lines, and also close to Balaklava, advancing by a road from Kansara, through the hills, which was at first deemed by the Allied generals impracticable for artillery, and, consequently, along which no serious attack was anticipated. One day, however, a force of 2000 Russian cavalry, and 8000 infantry, with nine or ten guns, made its appearance in this quarter, but withdrew without showing fight.

As soon as it became evident that the principal attacks of the Russian relieving army would be directed against Balaklava, means were taken to put that place in a state of defense. One of the first, was to turn out the Greek and Russian inhabitants. The little bay, so narrow at its entrance that only one ship could get out at a time, was crowded with upwards of a hundred transports, in which, besides other stores, as well as in the buildings on shore, were large magazines of gunpowder; and as it was reported that the Greek population, besides acting as spies, had actually concerted to aid the Russian attack by simultaneously setting fire to the town, Lord Raglan ordered every one of them to be ejected from the place. At the same time, a redoubt, armed with heavy guns and manned with 1200 marines from the fleet, was constructed upon the summit of a conical hill, on the further side of the bay, about 1000 feet high, and commanding the coast road approaching Balaklava from the east. Other redoubts were so placed as to command the road from the Tchernaya, and also from Kamara, through the mountains.

Balaklava does not fall within the natural line of defense for besieging Sebastopol. It is held as a separate post, three miles in advance of Sebastopol heights, which form the main position of the besieging force. The British occupied a convex line of heights, stretching from the Tchernaya, near its mouth, to the sea-coast, midway between Cape Chersonese and Balaklava. On the north-east is a valley or plain, not level, but broken by little eminences, about three miles long by two in width. Towards the Tchernaya this valley is swallowed up in a mountain gorge and deep ravines, above which rise tier after tier of desolate whitish rocks. At its other extremity the valley in a similar manner contracts into a gorge, through which the high road passes, leading down to Balaklava. On the crest of the Allied line of heights, overlooking this plain, the French had constructed very formidable intrenchments, mounted with a few guns and lined by Zouaves and artillerymen. Intersecting the plains, about two miles and a half from Balaklava, is a series of conical heights, the highest and farthest off of which joins the mountain range on the opposite side of the valley, while the nearest one was commanded by the French intrenchments. On these eminences earth-work redoubts had been constructed, each mounted with two or three pieces of heavy ship guns, and manned by 250 Turks. At the end of the plain next Balaklava, and stationed at the mouth of the gorge leading down to it, were the 93d Highlanders. In the plain, about ten miles from Balaklava, were picketed the cavalry, commanded in chief by the Earl of Lucan, consisting of the Light Brigade, 607 strong, and the Heavy Brigade, mustering 1000 sabres.

Such was the position of the rearward forces of the Allies on the morning of the 25th October, 1854, when the Russians, under General Liprandi, starting from Kamara about five o’clock, advanced to attack them. The cavalry pickets, riding in haste, soon brought intelligence of the attack to the Allied head-quarters, and measures were instantly taken to forward all the troops that could be spared from before Sebastopol to the menaced point.

The Duke of Cambridge and Sir George Cathcart were ordered to advance with the 1st and 4th divisions with all speed, while Bosquet’s French division received similar orders from General Canrobert. Soon after eight o’clock, Lord Raglan and his staff turned out, and cantered towards the rear. The booming of artillery, the spattering roll of musketry, were heard rising from the valley, drowning the roar of the siege guns in front before Sebastopol. General Bosquet followed with his staff and a small escort of hussars at a gallop. From their position on the summit of the heights, forming the rear of the British position, and overlooking the plain of Balaklava, the Allied generals beheld the aspect of the combat. Immediately below, in the plain, the British cavalry, under Lord Lucan, were seen rapidly forming into glittering masses, while the 93d Highlanders, under Sir Colin Campbell, drew up in line in front of the gorge leading to Balaklava.

The main body of the Russians was by this time visible about two and a half miles off, advancing up the narrow valley leading from the Yæta pass. A mile in front of them were two batteries of light artillery, playing vigorously on the Turkish redoubts, and escorted by a cloud of mounted skirmishers, ‘wheeling and whirling like autumn leaves before the wind;’ following those were large, compact squares of cavalry; and in rear of all came solid masses of infantry, with twenty pieces of artillery in row before them. The enemy rapidly advanced his cavalry and horse-artillery, so as to overpower the detached corps of Turks before any troops could be moved forward from the main body to support them. In this he perfectly succeeded, and the second redoubt was abandoned, as the first had been—​its defenders being severely cut up in their flight by the Cossack horse. They ran in scattered groups across towards the next redoubt, and towards Balaklava, but the horse-hoof of the Cossack was too quick for them, and sword and lance were busily plied among the retreating herd. The yells of the pursuers and pursued were plainly audible. As the lancers and light cavalry of the Russians advanced, they gathered up their skirmishers with great speed, and in excellent order; the shifting trails of men, which played all over the valley, like moonlight upon the water, contracted, gathered up, and the little pelotons in a few moments became a solid column. Then up came their guns, in rushed their gunners to the abandoned redoubts, and the guns of the second redoubt soon played with deadly effect upon the dispirited defenders of the third. Two or three shots in return from the earthworks, and all is silent. The Turks swarm over the earthworks, and run in confusion towards the town, firing their muskets at the enemy as they run.

Again the solid column of cavalry opens like a fan, and resolves itself into a long spray of skirmishers. It overlaps the flying Turks, steel flashes in the air, and down goes the poor Moslem, quivering on the plain, split through fez and musket-guard to the chin and breast-belt. There is no support for them. The remnant of the Turks, flying towards Balaklava, took refuge behind the ranks of the 93d Highlanders, and were formed into line on the wings of the regiment. The Russians by this time had turned the guns of the captured redoubt against the Allied front, but with little effect, as Sir Colin withdrew his Highlanders out of range, and the British Cavalry were hid from view by an undulating swell of the plain.

Encouraged by this retiring movement, the whole mass of Russian cavalry, about 4,000 strong, now came sweeping into the plain, with the obvious intention of breaking through the Allied line before reinforcements could arrive from before Sebastopol. This was the crisis of the day, as the slightest reverse to the Allies in this quarter would have been attended with serious consequences.

On came the foe in brilliant masses, pouring down at a canter into the plain and on to the high road. Here one body of horse, 1,500 strong, rapidly wheeling to their left, charged down the road towards Balaklava, against the single Highland regiment which there barred the way, and which awaited their approach in a line two deep. At 800 yards the Turks, drawn up on the wings of the regiment, discharged their muskets and fled.

‘Highlanders!’ exclaimed Sir Colin Campbell, as he saw his men wavering on being thus deserted, ‘if you don’t stand firm, not a man of you will be left alive.’

At 600 yards the regiment fired, but with little effect, upon the Russian squadrons now advancing at a gallop. The anxiety of the onlookers grew intense as they beheld that immense body of charging cavalry within 150 yards of their Highland line, when down again went the level line of Miniè rifles, a steady volley rang out, and the next instant the attacking squadrons were seen wheeling off to the right and left in retreat.

Meanwhile the main body of the Russian cavalry swept on straight across the plain, apparently with the design of carrying the thinly-defended heights at a gallop. But a foe intervened of which they did not make sufficient account. The instant they topped the little eminence in front of the British cavalry, the trumpets of the Heavy Brigade sounded the charge, and away went the brigade in two lines, the Scots Greys and Enniskillens in front, led on by Brigadier-General Scarlett. The Russians were likewise in two lines, and more than twice as deep. The shock was terrific, but lasted only for a moment. The handful of red-coats broke through the enemy, scattering the first line right and left, and then charged the second line, which came spurring up to the rescue. It was a fight of heroes. The position of the Greys and Enniskilleners quickly became one of imminent danger; for while cutting their way in splendid style through their foes, the Russian first line rallied again, and bore down upon their rear. God help them they are lost! burst from the Allied generals and on-lookers: when, like a thunder-bolt, the 1st Royals and 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, forming the British second line, broke with one terrible assault upon the foe, cutting through the line of rallying Russians as if it were pasteboard, and then, falling upon the flank of the Russian line, disordered by the terrible assault, put it to utter rout. A cheer burst from every lip, and, in the enthusiasm, officers and men on the heights took off their caps and shouted with delight. The loss to the British in this splendid charge was very trifling. All danger to the Allied position was now past. The enemy had made their rush, and failed. The British and French divisions, arriving from before Sebastopol, began to take up a position in the plain, and the Russians drawing back and concentrating their forces, relinquished all the captured redoubts save one. The fight seemed over; when an unlucky mistake, the precise origin of which is still shrouded in mystery, gave rise to a most brilliant but disastrous feat of arms.

The British cavalry had been advanced to the edge of the plain next the enemy, who were now slowly retiring up the narrow valley leading to the Yaeta Pass, from which they had debouched in the morning. In a gorge of this narrow valley, at about a mile and a half distant from the British horse, a battery of nine heavy Russian guns was posted, with infantry and a body of 2,000 cavalry in the rear. Captain Nolan, of the Light Brigade, one of the best swordsmen and cavalry tacticians in the army, now came galloping up with an order from the Commander-in-chief to Lord Lucan to advance with the light cavalry, and, if possible, prevent the enemy from carrying off the guns which they had captured in the redoubts. The moment the Russians beheld the squadrons advancing, they covered the slopes of the valley with Minié riflemen, and quickly planted two batteries on the heights, one on either side of the gorge. Formed in two lines, the British light cavalry advanced rapidly into the valley of death—​not a man flinching, and Lord Cardigan leading on with a coolness and contempt of danger that was magnificent. When they arrived at about 1,200 yards from the enemy, thirty Russian cannons simultaneously opened fire upon them, knocking over men and horses in numbers, and wounded or riderless steeds were seen flying over the field. Galloping on, they advanced up the valley, through this terrific cross-fire, towards the battery directly in front. The first line is broken, it is joined by the second, they never halt or check their speed an instant; with diminished ranks, thinned by those thirty guns, which the Russians had laid with the most deadly accuracy, with a halo of flashing steel above their heads and with a cheer which was many a noble fellow’s death-cry, they flew into the smoke of the batteries, but ere they were lost from view the plain was strewed with their bodies, and with the carcases of horses. Lord Cardigan was almost unhorsed by a 32-pounder exploding within a foot of his charger, and a shell bursting at his side, struck Captain Nolan in the breast, and with an involuntary shriek, the gallant officer fell dead from his saddle. The Russian gunners stood to their pieces till the dragoons were within ten yards of them, and were sabred to a man. Without drawing bridle, the British horse next charged the mass of cavalry in front of them, routed it, and pursued it pell-mell. Whilst the pursuit was at its height, suddenly the order was shouted “Wheel about!” The enemy, instead of being broken by their own men flying, formed up four deep in front of the charging horse, while a mass of lancers descended into their rear. But, nothing daunted, the heroic light horse, facing about, charged again through the gathering forces of the enemy, repassed the guns, and closed in desperate contest with the Russian lancers. At this moment the Russian artillerymen, returning to the guns behind, sent a deadly shower of grape into the fighting mass of horsemen, indiscriminately at friend and foe. The charge lasted barely half-an-hour, and but 198 out of 800 returned to the British lines. Whilst the batteries were firing upon the retiring cavalry, a body of French chasseurs d’Afrique charged at the guns erected on the left of the valley, and forced them to retire. After sabering amongst the Russian skirmishers, the chasseurs retired. This closed the operations of the day. The Russians withdrew their forces from the heights, and did not carry out their menaced attack on Balaklava.

The bombardment of the forts before Sebastopol continued without cessation all day.

Elated by their success against the Turks, and the capture of the guns of the redoubts, the Russians attempted a sortie from Sebastopol on the following day, the 26th October, whose strength exceeded 9000 infantry, with a numerous artillery; but no sooner had they entered within range of the Allies’ guns, which, eighteen in number, had taken up their position, than the word, ‘fire,’ was given, and a volley of shell tore open the ranks of the Russians, and checked their advance. The guns being reloaded, a second discharge, no less severe in its execution, caused the enemy to wheel round and retire.

On Sunday, the 5th of November, 1854, one of the most sanguinary battles ever fought within the memory of man, took place on the heights of Inkerman, under the walls of Sebastopol.

It is a difficult task, in a few lines of prose, to render justice to a bravery which excels that sung by the blind and immortal bard of Greece. We might devote page after page to individual feats of heroic daring in this fearful struggle, when 8,000 British troops and 6,000 Frenchmen defeated an army of 60,000 Russians, who left more killed and wounded upon the battle-field than the whole force the Allies brought against them.

From the preceding pages, the position of the besieging forces is already familiar to our readers. A road connects Balaklava and Sebastopol. From this road to the heights which crown the valley of the Tchernaya, extended the British lines. These heights form a right angle nearly opposite the ruins of Inkerman, and there run parallel with the river from which the valley has derived its name. On the other side of the Tchernaya rise a succession of hills above the ruins of Inkerman, where the Russians had established themselves.

The night between the 4th and 5th November was passed without apprehension by the Allied troops. It had rained almost incessantly, and the early morning gave no promise of any cessation of the heavy showers which had fallen for the previous four-and-twenty hours. Towards dawn a heavy fog settled down on the heights, and on the valley of the Inkerman. The fog, and vapors of drifting rain were so thick as morning broke, that one could scarcely see ten yards before him.

At four o’clock the bells of the churches in Sebastopol were heard ringing drearily through the cold night air; but the occurrence had been so usual that it excited no particular attention.

No one suspected for a moment that enormous masses of Russians were creeping up the rugged sides of the heights over the valley of Inkerman, on the undefended flank of the Second Division. There all was security and repose. Little did the slumbering troops in camp imagine that a subtle and indefatigable enemy were bringing into position an overwhelming artillery, ready to play upon their tents at the first glimpse of daylight.

Yet such was the case. The arrival of the Grand Dukes Michael and Nicholas, sons of the Emperor, with large reinforcements, determined Prince Menschikoff to make the attempt to annihilate the besieging forces, and raise the siege.

At daybreak (that is, at six o’clock), the alarm was given in the British camp that the Russians had surprised the advanced picquets, and were already in possession of all the heights commanding their position. The whole army stood to arms without delay. Presently a Russian battery appeared upon the crest of the height known as Shell-hill, near Careening Bay, whilst columns of infantry were descried already descending the hills, or marching up the ravines, which faced the front of the British position. The most serious attack of the Russians was, however, directed against the flank of the British army, along the heights running parallel to the valley of the Tchernaya.

The Russians in the front had now advanced to within five hundred yards of the encampment, and the action commenced. The musketry fire was awful, and the enemy who had now guns upon every favorable position, hurled shell and round shot at the advancing lines.

The enemy’s columns continued to push forward, trying to overwhelm the British regiments with their superior numbers. ‘And now (to quote the words of an eye-witness of the battle) commenced the bloodiest struggle ever witnessed since war cursed the earth. It has been doubted by military historians if any enemy have ever stood a charge with the bayonet, but here the bayonet was often the only weapon employed in conflicts of the most obstinate and deadly character. Not only did the English charge in vain, not only were desperate encounters between masses of men maintained with the bayonet alone, but they were obliged to resist bayonet to bayonet, with the Russian infantry again and again, as they charged the British with incredible fury and determination.’

The battle of Inkerman admits of no description. It was a series of dreadful deeds of daring, of sanguinary hand-to-hand fights, of despairing rallies, of desperate assaults, in glens and valleys, in brushwood glades and remote dells, hidden from all human eyes, and from which the conquerors, Russian or British, issued, only to engage fresh foes.

No one, however placed, could have witnessed even a small portion of the doings of this eventful day, for the vapors, fog, and drizzling mist, obscured the ground where the struggle took place to such an extent, as to render it impossible to see what was going on at the distance of fifty yards. Besides this, the irregular nature of the ground, the rapid fall of the hill towards Inkerman, where the deadliest fight took place, would have prevented one, under the most favorable circumstances, seeing more than a very insignificant and detailed piece of the terrible work below.

It was six o’clock when all the Head-quarter camp was roused by roll after roll of musketry on the right, and by the sharp report of field-guns. Lord Raglan was informed that the enemy were advancing in force, and soon after seven o’clock he rode towards the scene of action, followed by his staff, and accompanied by Sir John Burgoyne, Brigadier General Strangwayr, and several aids-de-camp. As they approached the volume of sound, the steady unceasing thunder of gun, and rifle, and musket, told that the engagement was at its height. The shell of the Russians, thrown with great precision, burst so thickly among the troops that the noise resembled continuous discharges of cannon, and the massive fragments inflicted death on every side.

Colonel Gambier was once ordered to get up two heavy guns (eighteen pounders) on the rising ground, and to reply to a fire which the light guns were utterly inadequate to meet. As he was engaged in this duty he was severely wounded, and obliged to retire. His place was taken by Lietenant-Colonel Dickson, who, in directing the fire of these two pieces, which had the most marked effect in deciding the fate of the day, elicited the admiration of the army. But long ere these guns had been brought up, there had been a great slaughter of the enemy, and a heavy loss of the British. The generals could not see where to go. They could not tell where the enemy were—​from what side they were coming, or where going. In darkness, gloom, and rain, they led the lines through thick scrubby bushes and thorny brakes, which broke the ranks, and irritated the men, while every place was marked by a corpse or men wounded from an enemy whose position was only indicated by the rattle of musketry, and the rush of ball and shell.

Sir George Cathcart, seeing his men disordered by the fire of a large column of Russian infantry, which was outflanking them, while portions of the various regiments composing his division were maintaining an unequal struggle with an overwhelming force, went down into a ravine in which they were engaged to rally them. He rode at their head encouraging them, and when a cry arose that ammunition was failing, he said coolly, ‘Have you not got your bayonets?’ As he led on his men, it was observed that another body of men had gained the top of the hill behind them on the right, but it was impossible to tell whether they were friends or foes. A deadly volley was poured into the scattered British regiments. Sir George cheered them, and led them back up the hill, but a flight of bullets passed where he rode, and he fell from his horse close to the Russian columns. His body was recovered mutilated with bayonet wounds.

When he fell, Colonel Seymour, who was with him, instantly dismounted, and was endeavoring to raise the body, when he himself received a ball which fractured his leg. He fell to the ground beside his general, and a Russian officer and five or six men running in, bayoneted him, and cut him to pieces as he lay helpless. The Russians bayoneted the wounded in every part of the field, giving no quarter, and apparently determined to exterminate the Allies, to drive them into the sea.

The conflict on the right was equally uncertain and equally bloody. To the extreme right a contest, the like of which, perhaps, never took place before, was going on between the guards and dense columns of Russian infantry of five times their number. The guards had charged them and driven them back, when they perceived that the Russians had outflanked them. They were out of amunition, too, and were uncertain whether there were friends or foes in the rear. They had no support, no reserve, were fighting with the bayonet against an enemy who stoutly contested every inch of ground, when the corps of another Russian column appeared on their right far to their rear. Then a fearful mitraille was poured into them, and volleys of rifle and musketry.

The guards were broken; they had lost twelve officers dead on the field; they had left one-half of their number dead on the ground; and they retired along the lower road of the valley; but they were soon reinforced, and speedily avenged their loss.

The French advance, about ten o’clock, turned the flank of the enemy.

When the body of French infantry appeared on the right of the British position, it was a joyful sight to the struggling regiments. The 3d regiment of Zouaves, under the chiefs of battalion, supported in the most striking manner the ancient reputation of that force. The French artillery had already begun to play with deadly effect on the right wing of the Russians, when three battalions of chasseurs d’Orleans rushed by, the light of battle on their faces. They were accompanied by a battalian of chasseurs Indigénes—​the Arab Sepoys of Algiers. Their trumpets sounded above the din of battle. Assailed in front, broken in several places by the impetuosity of the charge, renewed again and again, attacked by the French infantry on the right, and by artillery all along the line, the Russians began to retire, and at twelve o’clock they were driven pell-mell down the hill towards the valley, where pursuit would have been madness, as the roads were covered by their artillery. They left mounds of dead behind them. At twelve o’clock the battle of Inkerman seemed to have been won; but the day which had cleared up for an hour previously, again became obscured. Rain and fog set in; and as the Allies could not pursue the Russians, who were retiring under the shelter of their artillery, they had formed in front of the lines, and were holding the battle-field so stoutly contested, when the enemy, taking advantage of the Allies’ quietude, again advanced, while their guns pushed forward and opened a tremendous fire.

General Canrobert, who never quitted Lord Raglan for much of the early part of the day, at once directed the French to advance and outflank the enemy. In his efforts he was most nobly seconded by General Bosquet. General Canrobert was slightly wounded, and his immediate attendants suffered severely.

The renewed assault was so admirably managed that the Russians sullenly retired, still protected by their crushing artillery.

The loss sustained by the English army was 2,400 killed or wounded; of the French 1,726. The Russians, in killed, wounded, and prisoners, 15,000. An eye-witness thus describes the night after battle:

‘On the evening of the battle I went over the field. All the wounded had been removed. There is nothing so awful as the spectacle of the bodies of those who have been struck down by round shot or shell. Some had their heads taken off by the neck, as with an axe; others, their legs gone from their hips; others their arms; and others again, who were hit in the chest or stomach, were literally as smashed as if they had been crushed in a machine. Passing up to Sebastopol, over heaps of Russian dead, I came to the spot where the Guards had been compelled to retire from the defense of the wall above Inkerman valley. Here the dead of the Allies were nearly as numerous as the enemy’s. Beyond this the Russian Guardsmen and line regiments lay as thick as leaves, intermixed with dead and wounded horses. The path lay through thick brushwood, but it was slippery with blood, and the brushwood was broken down and encumbered with the dead. The scene from the battery was awful beyond description. I stood upon its parapet at about nine at night, and I felt my heart sink as I gazed upon the scene of carnage around.

‘The moon was at its full, and showed every object as if by the light of day. Facing me was the valley of Inkerman, with the Tchernaya, like a band of silver, flowing gracefully between the hills, which, for varied and picturesque beauty, might vie with any part of the world. Yet I shall never recall the memory of Inkermann valley with any but feelings of horror; for round the spot from which I surveyed the scene lay upwards of five thousand bodies. Some lay as if prepared for burial, and as though the hands of relatives had arranged their mangled limbs; while others again were in almost startling positions, half standing or kneeling, clutching their weapons or drawing a cartridge. Many lay with both their hands extended towards the sky, as if to avert a blow or utter a prayer; while others had a malignant scowl of fear and hatred. The moonlight imparted an aspect of unnatural paleness to their forms, and as the cold, damp wind swept round the hills and waved the boughs above their upturned faces, the shadows gave a horrible appearance of vitality; and it seemed as if the dead were laughing, and about to rise. This was not the case on one spot only, but all over the bloody field.’

The whole of the 6th (the day after the battle) was devoted to the sorry task of burying the dead. A council of war was held, presided over by Lord Raglan, at which it was determined to winter in the Crimea, and orders were issued accordingly. Large reinforcements were demanded bath by Lord Raglan and General Canrobert, which, with considerable promptitude were despatched by their respective governments.

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The Franks, a tribe of German origin, had marched from their hereditary possessions on the Lower Rhine to the Meuse and the Sambre, A. D. 486. From this place, their warlike king, Clovis, led them forth to war and plunder. After he had conquered and put to death the last Roman governor, Syágrius, in Soissons, and made himself master of the country between the Seine and the Loire, he advanced against the Alemanni, who were in possession of an extensive kingdom on both banks of the Rhine. He defeated them in the great battle of Zülpich (between Bonn and Aix), and subjected their country on the Moselle and the Lahn. In the heat of the battle, Clovis had sworn, that if the doubtful combat should terminate in his favor, he would embrace the faith of his Christian wife; and in the same year, he, with 8,000 nobles of his train, received baptism in the waters of the Rhine. But Christianity produced no emotions of pity in his savage heart. After he had extended the Frank empire to the Rhone on the east, and to the Garónne on the south, he attempted to secure the whole territory to himself and his posterity, by putting to death the chiefs of all the Frank tribes.

The wickedness of the father was inherited by his four sons, who, after Clovis’s death, divided the Frank empire between them; the eldest received the eastern kingdom, Austrásia, with the capital, Metz; the three younger sons shared the western territory, Neustria, and Burgundy, which was connected with it. But the empire was again from time to time united. The history of the kingly house of Merovingians displays a frightful picture of human depravity. The murders of brothers and relatives, bloody civil wars, and the explosion of unbridled passions, fill its annals. The savage enormities of the two queens, Brunhilda and Fredigonda, are particularly dreadful. These horrors at length destroyed all the power of the race of Clovis, so that they are distinguished in history as sluggish kings, whilst the steward of the royal possessions (Mayor of the palace) gradually obtained possession of all the powers of government. A visit to the yearly assemblies of the people (Marzfelder), upon a carriage drawn by four oxen, was at last the only occupation of the imbecile Merovingians. At first, each of the three kingdoms had its own mayor, until the brave and shrewd Pepin of Heristal succeeded in uniting the mayoralties of Neustria and Burgundy with that of Austrásia, and making them hereditary in his own family. From this time, Pepin’s descendants, who were called dukes of Francónia, possessed the regal power, whilst the Merovingians were kings in nothing but name.

Pepin of Heristal, and his son Charles Martel, had gained the confidence of the nation by their warlike deeds, and the favor of the priests by their zeal in the propagation of Christianity. Both parties were instrumental in raising Pepin the Little, the son of Charles Martel, to the throne of the Franks. For when the assembly of the nation deposed the last imbecile representative of the Merovingians (Childeric III), and proclaimed the chief steward, Pepin, king, the pope confirmed the election, in hope of finding in the Frank ruler a support against the Longobards and the iconoclastic emperor of Byzantium. In return for the royal consecration, which was first performed by Boniface, and afterwards by Pope Stephen himself, Pepin endowed the Roman chair with the portion of coast on the Adriatic sea, southwards from Ravenna. This was the foundation of the temporal power of the pope.

Pepin reigned for sixteen years with vigor and renown over the Frank empire, which extended far into South and Central Germany, and which, at his death, he divided between his two sons, Charles and Carloman. About three years afterwards, A. D. 771, Carloman died, and Charlemagne (Charles the Great) was declared sole ruler of the Franks, by the voice of the estates of the Empire. He conducted many wars, and advanced Christian cultivation and civil order. For the purpose of securing the boundaries of his kingdom and extending Christianity, he made war for thirty-one years on the Saxon confederation, which was formed by various Pagan tribes on the Weser and Elbe. Charles took the fortress of Eresburg, on the south of the Teutoburger forest, destroyed the national palladium—​the statue of Arminius, and compelled the Saxons to a peace. He next proceeded against the Longobard king, Desidérius, in obedience to the summons of Pope Adrian. With an army collected together near Geneva, he crossed the St. Bernard, stormed the passes of the Alps, and conquered Pavia. Desidérius ended his days in a cloister. Charles erected the Lombard throne in Milan, united Upper Italy to the kingdom of the Franks, and confirmed the gifts made by Pepin to the pope.

During the absence of Charles, the Saxons had expelled the Frank garrisons and reëstablished their ancient boundaries. Charles again marched into their country, subdued them, and compelled the chiefs of the tribes to submit at Paderborn. Their warlike duke, Witikind, alone, fled to the Danes and refused to confirm the treaty. In the two following years, Charles fought against the Moors in Spain, took Pampelona and Saragossa, and united the whole country, as far as the Ebro, to his own kingdom, as a Spanish province. But during his return, his rear, under the command of Roland, suffered a defeat in the valley of Roncesválles, in which the bravest champions of the Franks were destroyed. Roland’s battle at Roncesválles was a favorite theme with the poets of the middle ages. The Saxons took advantage of his absence to make a fresh insurrection, and pursued their devastating course as far as the Rhine. Charles hastened to the spot, gave them repeated overthrows, and subdued their land afresh. But when he attempted to employ them as militia against the Slavonic tribes in the East, they fell upon the Frank troops who were marching with them, at the Suntal (between Hanover and Hameln), and slew them. This demanded vengeance. The Frank emperor marched through the land, plundering and destroying, and then held a court of judgment at Verden on the Aller. 4,500 prisoners expiated with their blood the crime of their brethren. Upon this, hostilities were resumed with fresh violence. But the battle on the Hase, which terminated to the disadvantage of the Saxons, put an end to the war. Witikind and the other chiefs took an oath of fealty and military service, and allowed themselves to be baptised. The people followed their example. Eight bishoprics provided for the maintenance and extension of Christianity among the Saxons. Another insurrection, however, was occasioned a few years afterwards, by the oppressive arriere-ban, and the unwonted payment of tithes to the Church, which resulted in 10,000 Saxon families being carried away from their homes, and colonies of Franks being established in their place. To oppose the Slavonic tribes to the east of the Elbe, Charles founded the Margraviate of Brandenburg.

Shortly after, Thassilo duke of Bavaria, attempted to render himself independent of the Frank power, by the assistance of the Avars, who lived to the east. He was overpowered, and expiated his breach of faith by perpetual confinement within the walls of the cloisters of Fulda. Bavaria was hereupon incorporated with the Frank empire, and Charles established the Eastern Margraviate as a check upon the wild Avars. When Charlemagne had reduced all the lands from the Ebro and the Appenines to the Eider, and from the Atlantic Ocean to the Raab and the Elbe, he repaired to Rome at the conclusion of the century. It was here that, during the festival of Christmas, he was invested with the crown of the Roman empire, in the church of St. Peter, by Leo III, whom he had defended against a mob of insurgents. It was hoped, that by this means, western Christendom might be formed into a single body, of which the Pope was to become the spiritual, and Charles the secular head. It was at this time that the long-existing variance between the Western (Roman Catholic), and the Eastern (Greek Catholic) churches, terminated in a complete separation.

The domestic policy of Charlemagne was not less fertile of results than the foreign. 1. He improved the government and the administration of justice by abolishing the office of duke, dividing the whole kingdom into provinces, and appointing counts and deputies for the conduct of the affairs of justice, and clerks of the treasury for the management of the crown lands and the collection of imposts. The laws were confirmed by the popular assemblies (maifelder), in which every freeman had a share. 2. He promoted the cultivation of the land, and the education of the people. Agriculture and the breeding of cattle were encouraged, farms and villages sprang up, and barren heaths were converted into arable fields.

He founded conventual schools and cathedrals, had the works of the ancient Roman writers transcribed, and formed a collection of old German heroic ballads. Learned men, like the British monk, Alcuin, and the historian Eginhard, from the Odenwald, had ample reason to congratulate themselves on his encouragement and support. 3. He favored the clergy and the church. It was by his means that the former obtained their tithes and vast gifts and legacies; church music was improved, missionaries supported, and churches and monasteries erected. Ingelheim on the Rhine, and Aix, were his favorite places of residence. He lies buried in the latter town.

The son of Charlemagne, Louis the Denbonnaire (the Gentle), was better fitted for the repose of a cloister than for the government of a warlike nation. A too hasty division of his kingdom among his three sons, Lothaire, Pepin, and Louis, was the occasion of much sorrow to himself, and confusion to the empire. For when, at a later period, he proposed an alteration in favor of his fourth son, Charles the Bald, the fruit of a second marriage, the elder sons took up arms against their father. Louis, faithlessly deserted by his vassals on “the field of lies,” near Strasburg, and betrayed to his own sons, was compelled by Lothaire to do penance in the church and to abdicate his throne; and was afterwards shut up for some time in a cloister. It is true that Louis procured his father’s reinstatement; but when the weak emperor, after the death of Pepin, by a new division of the kingdom, deprived Louis of Germany, in favor of his brothers, Lothaire and Charles, Louis raised his standard against him. This broke the old emperor’s heart. Full of sorrow, he ended his days on a small island of the Rhine, near Ingelheim. The hostile brothers now turned their arms against each other. A bloody civil war depopulated the country, so that at last, after a battle of three days’ duration, at Fontenaille in Burgundy, the Frank nobility refused to obey the arriere-ban, and by this means brought about the treaty of partition of Verdun. By virtue of this treaty, Lothaire received the imperial dignity, together with Italy, Burgundy, and Lorraine; Charles the Bald, western Franconia (France); and Louis the German, the lands on the right bank of the Rhine—​Spire, Worms, and Mayence.

This division was followed by a time of great confusion, during which Europe was severely harassed, on the south by the Arabs; on the east, by the Slavi; and on the north and west, by the Normans. To oppose these predatory inroads, the Carlovingian monarchs, who were all men of weak and narrow minds, were obliged to restore the ducal office in the different provinces, and to sanction the hereditary authority of the Margraves, so that, in a short time, all the power fell into the hands of the nobles. By the rapid deaths of most of the posterity of Louis the Denbonnaire, nearly the whole of the empire of Charlemagne devolved upon Charles the Fat, A. D. 876, a prince weak and indolent, and simple almost to imbecility. Incapable of resisting the valiant Normans, he purchased a disgraceful peace from them. This proceeding so exasperated the German princes, that they decreed his deposition, at Tribur on the Rhine, and elected his nephew, the brave Arnulf, as his successor. Arnulf governed with vigor. He overthrew the Normans at Louvain, and called in the aid of the wild Magyars, or Hungarians, from the Ural, a people expert in horsemanship and archery, and who were now, under their valiant captain Arpad, occupying the plains on the Danube (named after them Hungary), against the Slavi and Avars. The Avars were either subjected or compelled to retreat. But the strangers (the Hungarians) soon became a more dreadful scourge to Germany than either the Slavi or the Avars. They made their predatory inroads and exacted a yearly tribute, even under Louis the Child, the youthful son of Arnulf, who died in the flower of his age, after a glorious campaign in Italy. This still continued, when, after the early death of this last of the Carlovingian race, the German nobles, among whom the dukes of Saxony, Franconia, Lorraine, Swabia, and Bavaria were preëminent for power, met together and elected Duke Conrad of Franconia, emperor. Germany thus became an elective empire.

The rule of the Carlovingians survived longest in France, but it possessed neither strength nor dignity. Under Charles the Simple, who had ascended the French throne after the deposition and subsequent death of Charles the Fat, the dukes and counts rendered themselves entirely independent, and one of the most powerful among them, Hugh of Paris, kept the imbecile king in strict confinement. France, on the other hand, was delivered from the devastating forays of the Normans, by Charles admitting duke Rollo into the province named after them Normandy, on condition that he and his followers would suffer themselves to be baptized, and recognize the king as their suzerain (feudal sovereign). The Normans, a people readily susceptible of civilization, soon acquired the language, manners, and customs of the Franks. Charles the Simple was followed by two other kings of the Carlovingian race; but their power was at last so limited that they possessed nothing but the town of Laon, with the surrounding country; every thing else had fallen into the hands of the insolent nobility. After the death of the Childless Louis V, Hugh Capet, son and heir of Hugh of Paris, assumed the title of king, and put to death in prison Louis’ uncle Charles of Lorraine, who attempted to assert his right to the throne by force of arms.

The first successors of Hugh Capet possessed but little power and a narrow territory. The dukes and counts of the different provinces looked upon the king, who, properly, was only lord of France, as their equal, and only allowed him the first rank among themselves, in so far as they were obliged to recognize him as their feudal superior. The nobles dared not weaken the rights that appertained to him in this capacity, lest they should afford an example of breach of faith to their own subjects, and encourage them to similar behavior towards themselves. For the rest, the possessions of the great vassals were independent counties and principalities, which had no closer connection with the French throne than the western territories on the Seine, Loire, and Garonne, which belonged to the king of England; or the eastern (Burgundian) lands on the Rhone and the Jura, which were portions of the German empire.

But in the attempt to increase the kingly power, the house of Capet were not less aided by their good fortune than by their wisdom. It was fortunate, that, owing to the lengthened lives of most of their kings, the throne was seldom vacant, that there was almost always a son of age to succeed his father, and that, consequently, there was never an interregnum. But it was wisdom in the first kings to have their eldest sons crowned during their lives, and to make them their partners in the government, so that, on the death of the father, little or no change was suffered. The most important kings after Hugh Capet were Louis VII, who undertook the second crusade, and during his absence intrusted the government in France to the politic Abbot Suger of St. Denis; Philip Augustus II, who wrested Normandy and the other territories in the west from the English king, John Lackland; and Louis VIII, who enlarged his dominions on the south by the war against the Albigenses. But the reigns which had the greatest influence upon the history of France were those of St. Louis and Philip the Fair. The former improved the laws, and caused the royal courts of justice to be looked upon as the highest in the land, and the disputes of the nobles among themselves, or with their vassals to be brought before them for decision: the latter, on the other hand, increased the consequence of the towns by granting various privileges and liberties to the citizens, and by being the first who summoned the representatives of the towns to the diet during his contest with the pope. After the death of Philip’s three sons, who reigned one after the other, but left no male heirs, the French throne passed to the house of Valois, A. D. 1328.

Philip VI of Valois, brother’s son of Philip the Fair, inherited the French throne. But Edward III of England also asserted his claims, as son of a daughter of Philip the Fair. Without regard to the Salic law, which prohibited the succession of females, he assumed the title of king of France, and made war upon Philip. After a bloody contest of a few years, the battle of Crecy was fought, in which the English were the victors, and the flower of the French chivalry, together with John, the blind king of Bohemia, fell on the field. The possession of the important town of Calais was the fruit of the victory. Philip died in the following year, and his son, John the Good, succeeded to the contested crown. Eager to obliterate the memory of Crecy, he attacked the English army, which was under the command of Edward III’s heroic son, the Black Prince, but suffered a decisive defeat at Poictiers, and was obliged to proceed as a captive to the capital of England. Whilst he was absent, the kingdom was governed by the crown prince (Dauphin). During his rule, an insurrection broke out in Paris and over the whole land, which was attended with great devastations and outrages, until the imperfectly-armed citizens and peasants were subdued by the French knights, and visited with severe punishment. Shortly after this, a peace was established between France and England, by which Calais and the south-west of France was surrendered to the English, and a heavy ransom promised for John, whilst Edward, on the other hand, renounced his pretensions to the French throne. But when the collection of the ransom money was delayed, John voluntarily returned into captivity, and died in London.

John’s son, Charles V (the Wise), healed the wounds of his country. He quieted men’s minds by his moderate government, and by prudence and valor recovered the lands that had been lost on the Loire and the Garonne; so that when the Black Prince fell a victim to wasting disease, and Edward III shortly followed him into the grave, nothing remained to the English of all their conquests but Calais. But under his successor, Charles VI, who became insane shortly after coming of age, France again fell into a state of confusion and lawlessness. Two powerful court parties, headed by the uncle of the king (the duke of Burgundy), and the king’s brother (the duke of Orleans), contended for the government; whilst the burghers rebelled against the heavy imposts, and demanded an increase of their privileges. About the same time in which the towns were waging war against the knights in Germany, the Swiss peasants were contending against the nobility, and a dangerous popular insurrection, under Wat Tyler and others, was making rapid progress in England, the citizen and peasant class rose against the court and the nobility in Flanders and France also. But want of union among the insurgents gave the latter the victory, and the outbreak was followed by a diminution of the privileges of the people. The Burgundian party favored the citizens, the Orleans party the nobility.

The chivalrous king, Henry V of England, took advantage of these circumstances to renew the war with France. He demanded the former possessions back again; and when this was refused, he entered France by Calais, and renewed at Agincourt, on the Somme, the days of Crecy and Poictiers, A. D. 1415. The French army, four times the number of its opponents, was overthrown, and the flower of the French chivalry either fell in the field, or were taken prisoners by the enemy; nothing stood between the victor and Paris, where party violence had just now attained its highest point, and murders and insurrections were matters of daily occurrence. The Orleans party joined the Dauphin, whilst the Burgundian party, with the queen Isabella, united themselves with the English, and acknowledged Henry V and his descendants as the heirs of the French crown. The whole of the country to the north of the Loire was soon in the hands of the English. But Henry V was snatched away by death in the midst of his heroic course, in the same year in which the crazy Charles VI sank into the grave, and the Dauphin took possession of the throne under the title of Charles VII. But this made little difference to France. The English and their allies proclaimed Henry VI, who was scarcely a year old, the rightful ruler of the country, and retained their superiority in the field so that they already held Orleans in siege.

In this necessity, the Maid of Orleans, a peasant girl of Dom Remy in Lorraine, who gave out that she had been summoned to the redemption of France by a heavenly vision, aroused the sinking courage of Charles and his soldiers. Under her banner, the town of Orleans was delivered, the king conducted to Rheims to be crowned, and the greater part of their conquests wrested from the English. The faith in her heavenly mission inspired the French with courage and self-confidence, and filled the English with fear and despair. This effect remained after Joan of Arc had fallen into the hands of the latter, and had been given up to the flames on a pretended charge of blasphemy and sorcery. The English lost one province after another; and when Philip the Good of Burgundy reconciled himself with the king, Calais soon became their last and only possession in the land of France. Paris opened its gates and received Charles with acclamations. He reigned over France in peace for twenty-five years; but he was a weak man, who suffered himself to be guided by women and favorites. He was followed by Louis XI, a crafty but politic prince, who, by cunning, violence, and unexampled tyranny, rendered the power of the throne absolute, and enlarged and consolidated his empire. He robbed the nobility of all their choicest privileges, and gradually united all the great fiefs with the crown. He then, by the assistance of the Swiss (whose hardy youth he and his successor engaged as mercenaries), overthrew Charles the Bold, and made himself master of the dukedom of Burgundy. The stings of conscience and the fear of men tortured him in the lonely castles where he spent the last years of his life, A. D. 1483. His two successors, Charles VIII and Louis XII, conquered Brittany, but dissipated the strength of the kingdon in their expeditions to Italy.

FRANCE DURING THE WAR OF RELIGION.

Henry II, a determined enemy of the Huguenots, died in consequence of a wound he received during a tournament, A. D. 1559. His feeble and delicate son, Francis II, was his successor. This prince was married to the fascinating Mary Stuart of Scotland, whose uncles, the Guises, in consequence, enjoyed great influence at the French court. The Guises, as zealous adherents of the Catholic Church and the papacy, made use of their lofty position to suppress the reformed party; but by doing this, gave their opponents, and in especial, the Prince Condé, of the family of Bourbon, and the Admiral Coligni, the opportunity of strengthening themselves by joining the Huguenots. The schism increased daily; the one party strove to overthrow the other, and to secure the victory to their own side by the assistance of the king. The day on which the Estates assembled at Orleans was selected by both parties as a befitting time for the execution of this project. The Guises gained the advantage. The chiefs of the Huguenots already found themselves in prison, when a turn was given to affairs by the sudden death of the king. The queen-mother, Catherine de Medicis, placed herself at the head of affairs during the minority of the new king, Charles IX, and the Bourbons assumed a position suited to their birth. The Guises, irritated at the neglect they experienced, retired with their niece, Mary Stuart, into Lorraine, whence the latter, shortly after, departed with sorrow and mourning into Scotland.

The removal of the Guises from the court was of advantage to the reformed party. They obtained toleration. Enraged at this concession, the duke of Guise concluded an alliance with some other powerful nobles for the preservation of the ancient faith in France, and returned to Paris. During this return, a horrible slaughter was perpetrated by the Guises and their attendants upon some Calvinists of the town of Vassy, who were assembled together in a barn, for the celebration of Divine worship. This proved the signal for a religious war. The outrage given to the conceded liberty of conscience by this bloody act of violence cried for vengeance. France was soon divided into two hostile camps, that attacked each other with bitter animosity and religious rage. The most horrible atrocities were committed, and the kingdom disturbed to its inmost depths. The Catholics obtained aid from Rome and Spain, the Protestants were assisted by England; Germany and Switzerland supplied soldiers. After the undecisive battle of Dreux, and the murder of the Duke Francis of Guise, at the siege of Orleans, peace was for a short time restored, and the Calvinists again assured of religious toleration—​a promise that met with but little attention. The two parties were soon again arrayed in arms against each other, A. D. 1568. But despite the bravery of the Huguenots in the battle of St. Denis, where the elder Montmorenci lost his life, the superiority remained on the side of the Catholics; particularly when Catherine de Medicis, who had hitherto sided with neither party, embraced the interests of the latter. The sight of crucifixes and sacred objects broken to pieces, during a journey undertaken by the queen and her son, and the advice of the duke of Alba, with whom she had an interview in Bayonne, had produced this alteration in her opinions. After several bloody engagements in the vicinity of La Rochelle, which the Huguenots had selected as their battlefield, and after their gallant leader, Condé, had been basely assassinated during one of them, the peace of St. Germain was arranged, by which the Calvinists were again assured of the free exercise of their religion. Condé’s nephew, Henry of Bearn, who had been bred up in the doctrine of Calvin by his mother, Joanna d’ Albret, now placed himself at the head of the Huguenots; but the soul of the party was the brave Coligni, who stood by the side of the prince as his guide and adviser.

Coligni possessed great influence at the court after the peace. The young king respected him, and favored him with his confidence. For the purpose of bringing about a permanent reconciliation between the religious parties, the king now urged a marriage between his sister, Margaret of Valois, and the Bourbon, Henry of Bearn. This offended the Guises, who believed that Coligni had procured the assassination of Francis of Guise, and they resolved upon his destruction. Coligni was fired at one evening, as he was returning to his own house from the Louvre. The ball, however, only shattered his arm, and it was necessary to devise a fresh plan of destruction. The Guises, in conjunction with Catherine of Medicis, now entertained the horrible project of taking advantage of the approaching marriage, for the solemnization of which many illustrious Calvinists had hastened to the capital, to destroy the chiefs of the Huguenot party. Thus originated the Bloody Nuptials of Paris, in the night of St. Bartholomew, August 24th, 1572. When the alarm bell of St. Germain l’Auxerrois gave the signal at midnight, bands of armed ruffians fell upon the defenseless Calvinists. The gray-headed hero, Coligni, was the first victim that the Guises sacrificed to their hate; the murderous bands then marched through all parts of the city, filled the streets and houses with blood and corpses, and laughed to scorn every sentiment of humanity and justice. The butchery lasted for three days, and was imitated in other towns, so that, at the lowest computation, 25,000 Huguenots must have perished. The king, to whom the plan was communicated a short time before its execution, listened to the voice of his passions, and himself fired upon the fugitives. After the deed had been accomplished, and the Guises had been fixed upon by the public voice as its instigators, and called upon to answer for their conduct, Charles took the whole affair upon himself, and excused the crime by a pretended conspiracy. Many of the French quitted their homes in horror, and sought for security in Switzerland, Germany, and the Netherlands. Henry of Bearn saved his life by a compulsatory abjuration, but returned to his old faith as soon as he found himself in security.

Charles IX died two years after the night of St. Bartholomew, troubled with evil dreams. His brother Henry, who had been for a twelvemonth the elected king of Poland, fled secretly from the rude shores of the Vistula to take possession of the fairer crown of France. Henry III was a weak and luxurious prince, without either assiduity or energy. Shut up with his favorites and pet dogs in the inmost apartments of the palace, he forgot his kingdom with its disturbances and miseries; and when remorse at his sinful life, which was passed in lust and debauchery, seized upon him, he sought consolation in superstitious devotion, in pilgrimages and processions, and in penance and flagellations. To bring the Huguenots to peace, so that he might be able to devote himself to the undisturbed enjoyment of the pleasures of his capital, Henry, immediately upon his accession, granted them freedom of conscience, and equal civil rights with the Catholics. Enraged at these concessions, which destroyed all the fruits of their previous exertions, the zealous Catholics, under the guidance of Henry of Guise, and with the cognizance of Philip II of Spain, concluded the Holy League for the preservation of the Church in all its ancient rights. Many members were won to this alliance by the insinuations of the priests and monks, and by the intrigues of the Jesuits. The fickle and faithless king, disturbed by this movement, united himself with the Catholic zealots, declared himself the head of the League, and curtailed the religious peace. The duke of Anjou, Henry’s younger brother, died a few years after this; and as he, like the king, was without children, the Bourbon, Henry of Navarre (Bearn), became the nearest heir to the throne. This prospect of a Protestant king alarmed the Catholic part of France, and gave fresh vigor to the League. The weak king was obliged to recall all treaties with the Huguenots, to announce the extirpation of heresy, and to approve the arrangements of the League. Henry of Guise, at first, only entertained the notion of putting aside the Protestant successor to the throne, who had been excommunicated by the pope; but his courage rose with his increasing power; he soon made attempts upon the crown himself, whilst, as a pretended descendant of the Carlovingi, he asserted the superiority of his claims to those of the reigning family. A conspiracy was formed in Paris (where the citizens were kept in a state of perpetual agitation by fanatical popular orators) against the freedom or life of the king; and when Henry III attempted to defend himself by calling in Swiss troops, the agitation burst into rebellion. The people assembled themselves around the Guises, who, against the king’s commands, were entering the capital, barricaded the streets and bridges, and commenced a furious contest with single divisions of the troops. The trembling king fled with his favorites to Chartres, and left his capital in the hands of his rival. Henry of Guise now possessed the same power that had belonged to the mayors of the palace in the time of the Merovingi. But even this position did not satisfy the ambitious party leader. An assembly of Estates, convoked at Blois, where the adherents of the Guises were the strongest party, proposed not only to deprive the Bourbons of their right to the throne and to exterminate Calvinism, but to change the government, and to place the whole power in the hands of the Guises. At this crisis, Henry hazarded a bold stroke; he had the duke of Guise and his brother, the Cardinal Louis, assassinated, and imprisoned the most influential leaders of their party. This proceeding produced a fearful commotion in the whole nation: in Paris, allegiance was renounced to the God-forsaken king, who had overthrown the pillar of Catholicism; the pope fulminated an excommunication at him; revolutionary movements took place in many quarters. Despised and forsaken, Henry III saw no other way to safety open to him than an alliance with Henry of Navarre and the Huguenots. A frightful civil war burst out afresh, but fortune was hostile to the League. Henry had already laid siege to Paris, and threatened to reduce the faithless town to a heap of ruins, when the knife of a fanatical monk put an end to his life. Henry III the last Valois, died on the first of August, 1589, after appointing Henry of Navarre and Bearn his successor.

Henry IV had still a long struggle to sustain before his head was ornamented by the crown of France. Mayenne, the brother of the murdered Guise, placed himself at the head of the League, and offered a vehement resistance to the Calvinistic claimant of the throne. Philip II sought to turn the confusion to his own advantage, and commanded his able general, Alexander of Parma, to march his forces from the Netherlands into France. Henry tried for a long time to get possession of his inheritance by the sword: he laid siege to Paris, and caused the citizens to feel all the horrors of famine; but he at length became convinced that he never could gain peaceable possession of the French throne by battles and victories. He thought the crown of France was worth a mass, and went over to the Catholic Church in the cathedral of St. Denis, and by this means destroyed the power of the League. Paris now threw open its gates, and welcomed the bringer of peace with acclamations. The pope recalled the anathema; the heads of the League concluded a treaty with him, and Philip II, a short time before his death, consented to the peace of Vervins. After foreign and domestic tranquillity had been thus restored to France, the king, by the Edict of Nantes, conferred upon the Calvinists liberty of conscience, the full rights of citizenship, and many other privileges; such as separate chambers in the courts of justice, several castles, with all their warlike munitions (La Rochelle, Montauban, Nismes, &c.) and freedom from episcopal jurisdiction. He next sought to heal the wounds that had been inflicted on the land by the war, by encouraging agriculture, trade and commerce; and had the economy of the state and the taxation admirably arranged by his friend and minister, Sully. He won for himself the warmest affections of his people by his genuine French character, and by his cordial and cheerful disposition. His solitary failing, his too great love for woman, was a merit in the eyes of the French. But fanaticism was only slumbering. Henry’s tolerant disposition towards heretics awakened it. As he was meditating the vast plan (with the approval of the Dutch Union and other European powers) of founding a Christian community with equal privileges for the three Confessions, and by this means destroying the supremacy of the royal house of Hapsburg, he fell beneath the knife of Ravaillac.

THE AGE OF LOUIS XIV—​RICHELIEU AND MAZARIN.

The first part of the reign of the weak Louis XIII, who only numbered nine years at the time of his father’s murder, was full of mischief for France. During the time the queen-mother, Mary of Medicis, conducted the government, Italian favorites exerted a great influence upon affairs, enriched themselves at the expense of the French, and irritated the pride of the nation by their insolence. Enraged at this, the nobility took up arms, and filled the country with rebellion and the tumult of war. When at length Louis XIII himself, upon coming of age, assumed the government, he indeed consented that the foreign favorites should be removed by murder and execution, and banished his mother from the court; but the people gained little by it. The new favorites in whom the king, who possessed no self-reliance, reposed his confidence, were not distinguished from the former either by virtue or talents; for this reason, both the nobles of the kingdom and the Huguenots, who felt themselves injured in their rights, again rose against the government, and threw the land into fresh confusion. This melancholy condition of affairs was only put an end to when Cardinal Richelieu was admitted into the state council, and introduced a complete change of system, (A. D. 1624.)

This great statesman maintained an almost absolute sway in the court and in the kingdom for nearly eighteen years, though the king never loved him, the queen and the nobility were constantly attempting his overthrow, and a succession of cabals and conspiracies were plotted against him. The greatness of his mind triumphed over all obstacles. Richelieu’s efforts were directed towards the extension and rounding of the French territory without, and the increasing and strengthening of the royal power within. In furtherance of the former of these objects, he sought to weaken the house of Hapsburg, and for this purpose entered into alliances with the enemies of the emperor not only in Germany, in the time of the Thirty Years’ War, but in Italy and other places; and, to attain his aims in regard to the latter object, he neglected to call together the estates of the kingdom, broke the power of the nobility and of the independent officials and judges in the parliament, and attacked the Huguenots, who had formed an almost independent alliance in the south and west of France, with their own fortresses, and an effective militia, and great privileges. After conquering the most important of the Huguenot towns (Nismes, Montauban, Montpellier), and destroying their fortifications, in three wars, and when he had at length taken Rochelle, the bulwark of the Calvinists, after a siege of fourteen months, he proceeded to deprive the Protestants of their political privileges and of their independent position, but granted them, by the Edict of Nismes, liberty of conscience and equal rights with Catholic subjects. The turbulent nobles had been deprived of their greatest support by the disarming of the Huguenots, and the war could now be prosecuted against them with success. The most daring were got rid of by banishment and the executioner. Even the queen-mother and her second son, and the duke of Orleans, who attempted to procure the fall of Richelieu, were compelled to leave the country, and the confidential friend of the latter, Henry, duke of Montmorency, a scion of one of the most renowned families of France, died at Toulouse by the hand of the executioner. A similar fate awaited the count of Cinq-Mars and his friend, De Thou, a few years later, when in conjunction with the queen and some of the nobles, they formed a conspiracy against the mighty cardinal. The parliament, the upper tax-offices and courts of justice, which, like the king, claimed an independent authority on account of their offices being hereditary, were weakened by the establishment of extraordinary courts and higher officers, who were dependent upon the minister.

In the year 1642, died Richelieu, hated and feared by the nobility and the people, but admired by cotemporaries and posterity; Louis XIII, a prince without either great virtues or great vices, and dependent upon every one who could either acquire his favor or render himself formidable to him, soon followed him. His widow, Anne of Austria, the proud and ambitious sister of the king of Spain, undertook the government during the minority of his son. But as she reposed the whole of her confidence on the Italian, Mazarin, the inheritor of the office and the principles of Richelieu, she met with vehement opposers among the nobility and in the parliament, who attempted to regain their former power and position. The people, in the hope of being relieved of some of their heavy taxes, and guided by the clever and dexterous Cardinal Retz, embraced their cause, with the intent of compelling the court to remove Mazarin, and to adopt a different plan of government. This gave occasion to a furious civil war, which is known in history as “the War of the Fronde.” Mazarin was obliged to leave the country for a short time, but so immovable were the favor and confidence of the queen, that he governed France from Cologne as he had formerly done in Paris. But his banishment did not last long. When Louis XIV had attained the years of kingly majority, and Turenne, the commander of the royal troops, had conquered his rival, the great Condé, the general of the insurgents, in the suburb of St. Antoine, Mazarin returned in triumph. His solemn entry into Paris was a sign that absolute power had gained the victory, and that henceforth the will of the monarch was to be law. Mazarin enjoyed for six years longer the greatest respect in France and Europe; Cardinal Retz, the ingenious composer of the Memoirs of this war, was obliged to leave his country, after he had previously expiated his turbulent conduct in the prison of Vincennes; Condé, poor and unhappy, wandered among the Spaniards, till the grace of his master allowed him to return and take possession of his estates; Mazarin’s nieces, Italian females without name or position, were endowed with the wealth of France, and sought for as brides by the greatest nobles; and the members of parliament adapted themselves without opposition to the directions they received from above, after Louis had appeared before them in his boots and riding whip, and demanded their obedience with threats. Louis now gave effect to his principle, “I am the state” (l’etat, c’est moi). The peace of the Pyrenees with Spain was the last work of Mazarin. He died shortly after, (March 9, 1661,) leaving enormous wealth behind him. His death took place at the moment when Louis began to grow weary of him, and was longing to seize the reins of government in his own powerful grasp.

After the death of Mazarin, Louis XIV, in whom kingly absolutism attained its highest point, appointed no prime minister, but surrounded himself with men who merely executed his will, and whose highest aim was to increase and spread abroad the renown, glory, and honor of the king. In the choice of these men, Louis displayed judgment and the talents of a ruler. His ministers, especially Colbert, the great promoter of French industry, manufactures, and trades, as well as his generals, Turenne, Condé, Luxemburg, and the engineer, Vauban, as much surpassed, in talent, acquirements, and dexterity, the statesmen and soldiers of all other countries, as Louis XIV himself was preëminent among the princes of his age, in the greatness of his power, in commanding presence, and kingly dignity. He rendered the age of Louis XIV the most illustrious in the French annals, and caused the Court of Versailles (the seat of the royal residence) to be everywhere praised and admired as the model of taste, of refinement, and of a distinguished mode of living. But as he sought nothing but the gratification of his own selfishness, of his own love of pleasure, of his pride, and of his desire for renown and splendor, his reign became the grave of freedom, of morals, of firmness of character, and of manly sentiments. Court favor was the end of every effort, and flattery the surest road to arrive at it; virtue and merit met with little acknowledgment.

It was during the last three decades of the seventeenth century that France stood at the culminating point of her power abroad and of her prosperity at home, so that the flattering chronicles of those days described the age of Louis XIV as the golden age of France. Trade and industry received a prodigious development by the care of Colbert; the woollen and silk manufactories, the stocking and cloth weaving, which flourished in the southern towns, brought prosperity, the maritime force increased, colonies were planted, and the productions of France were carried by trading companies to all quarters of the globe.

The court of France displayed a magnificence that had never before been witnessed. The palace of Versailles, and the gardens which were adorned with statues, fountains, and alleys of trees, were a model of taste for all Europe, fêtes of all kinds, jovial parties, ballets, fireworks, the opera and the theatre, in the service of which the first intellects in France employed their talents, followed upon each other in attractive succession; poets, artists, men of learning, all were eager to do honor to a prince who rewarded with a liberal hand every kind of talent that conduced either to his amusement or to his glory. Sumptuous buildings, as the Hospital of Invalides, costly libraries, magnificent productions of the press, vast establishments for the natural sciences, academies, and similar institutions, exalted the glory and renown of the great Louis. The refined air of society, the polished tone, the easy manners of the nobility and courtiers, subdued Europe more permanently and extensively than the weapons of the army. The French fashions, language, and literature, bore sway from this time in all circles of the higher classes. The consequences of the French Academy by Richelieu were a development of the language, style, and literary composition, that was extremely favorable to the diffusion of the literature. The language, so particularly adapted for social intercourse, for conversation, and for epistolary writing, remained from henceforth the language of diplomacy, of courts, and of the higher classes; and although the literary productions are wanting in strength, elevation, and nature,—​the polish of the form, and the ease and felicity of the style, gave French taste the supremacy in Europe, and strengthened the French people in the agreeable delusion that they were the most civilized of nations.

But however flatterers may sing the praises of the age of Louis XIV, one spot of shame remains ineradicable—​the persecution of the Huguenots. The French king believed that the unity of the Church was inseparable from a perfect monarchy. For this reason he oppressed the Jansenists, a Catholic party, which first contended against the Jesuits, and afterwards against the head of the Church himself; and he compelled the Calvinists, by the most severe persecutions, either to fly, or to return into the bosom of the Catholic Church. Colbert, who esteemed the Huguenots as active and industrious citizens, prevented for some time these violent measures; but the suggestions of the royal confessor, La Chaise, the zeal for conversion of the affectedly pious Madame Maintenon, who had been first a tutoress of the court, and afterwards Louis’ trusted wife, and the cruelty of Louvois, the minister of war, at length triumphed over the advice of Colbert. A long succession of oppressive proceedings against the Huguenots prepared the way for the great stroke. The number of their churches was restricted, and their worship confined to a few of the principal towns. Louis’ paroxysms of repentance and devotion were always the sources of fresh oppressions to the Calvinistic heretics, by whose conversion he thought to expiate his own crimes. They were gradually excluded from office and dignities; converts were favored; in this way, the ambitious were enticed, the poor were won by money, which flowed from the king’s conversion chest, and from the liberal gifts of the pious illustrious; a wide field was opened to the zeal for proselytism by the enactment that the conversion of children under age was valid. Families were divided, children were torn from their parents and brought up as Catholics. Court and clergy, the heartless and eloquent bishop Bossuet at their head, set all means in motion to establish the ecclesiastical unity of France. When all other means of conversion failed, came the dragonades. At the command of Louvois, the cavalry took possession of the southern provinces, and established their quarters in the dwellings of the Huguenots. The prosperity of the industrious citizens, whose substance was devoured by the dragoons, soon disappeared. The bad treatment by these booted missionaries, who quitted the houses of the apostates to fall in doubled numbers upon those who remained stedfast, operated more effectually than all the enticements of the court or the seductions of the priests. Thousands fled abroad that they might preserve their faith upon a foreign soil. At last came the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, October, 1685. The religious worship of the Calvinists was now forbidden, their churches were torn down, their schools closed, their preachers banished from the land; when the emigration increased to a formidable degree, this was forbidden, under punishment of the galleys and forfeiture of goods. But despite all threats and prohibitions, upwards of 500,000 French Calvinists carried their industry, their faith, and their courage to Protestant lands. Switzerland, the Palatinate of the Rhine, Brandenburg, Holland, and England, offered an asylum to the persecuted. The silk manufacture and stocking-weaving were carried abroad by the fugitive Huguenots. Flatterers extolled the king as the exterminator of heresy, but the courage of the peasants in Cevennes, and the number of Huguenots who contented themselves with private devotion, show how little religious oppression conduced to the desired end. For when the persecution was carried into the distant valleys of the Cevennes, where Waldenses and Calvinists lived, according to ancient custom, in the simplicity of the faith, the oppressors met with an obstinate resistance. Persecution called forth the courage of its victims, oppression urged zeal into fanaticism. Led on by a young mechanic, the Camisards, clad in a linen frock, rushed “with naked breast against the marshals.” A frightful civil war filled the peaceful valleys of Cevennes; fugitive priests, in the gloom of the forest, exhorted the evangelical brethren to a desperate defense, till, at length, the persecutors grew weary. Nearly two millions of the Huguenots remained without rights and without religious worship.

THE LAST DAYS OF ABSOLUTE MONARCHY—​THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

Louis XV at first possessed the affections of his people to such a degree, that he was named the ‘Much-beloved;’ and when he was attacked by a dangerous illness in Metz, the whole land went into mourning, and his recovery was celebrated by the greatest rejoicings. But this love gradually changed into hatred and contempt when the king gave himself up to the most shameless debaucheries, and surrendered the government of the country, the command of the army, and the decision upon points of law and state policy, to the companions of his orgies and the ministers of his lusts and pleasures; and when mistresses, without morals or decency, ruled the court and the empire. Among these women, none possessed greater or more enduring influence than the Marchioness of Pompadour, who guided the whole policy of France for a period of twenty years, filled the most important offices with her favorites, decided upon peace or war, and disposed of the revenues of the state as she did of her private purse, so that, after a life passed in luxury and splendor, she left millions behind her. She and her creatures encouraged Louis’ excesses and love of pleasure, that he might plunge continually deeper in the pool of vice, and leave to them the government of the state. For the rest, the Pompadour used her position and her influence with a certain dignity, and with tact and discretion; but when the countess Du Barry, a woman from the very dregs of the people, occupied her place, the court lost all authority and respect.

When Louis XV, in consequence of his excesses, was carried off in the midst of his sins by a frightful distemper, the treasury was exhausted, the country in debt, credit gone, and the people oppressed by their burdens.

It was under these melancholy circumstances, that an absolute throne descended to a prince who certainly possessed the best of hearts, but a weak understanding; who was good-natured enough to wish to relieve the condition of the people, but possessed neither strength nor intellect for efficient measures. This prince was Louis XVI. Weak and indulgent, he allowed the frivolity and extravagance of his brothers, the count of Provence (afterwards Louis XVIII), and the count of Artois (Charles X); and permitted his wife, Marie Antoinette, the highly-accomplished daughter of Maria Theresa, to interfere in matters of state, and to exert a considerable influence upon the court and government. The queen, by her pride and haughty bearing, incurred the dislike of the people, so that they ascribed every unpopular measure to her influence, and put a bad construction upon every liberty she allowed herself in private.

The prevailing want of money, and the disordered state of the revenue, could only be remedied by including the nobility and clergy in the taxation, by large reforms in the whole system of government, like those proposed by Turgot and Malesherbes, and by order and economy in the expenditure. But Louis XVI had neither strength nor resolution to carry out such decisive measures; and as for economy, the extravagant court of Versailles would not listen to it. The Genevese banker, Necker, who undertook the management of the finances after Turgot, was as little in a position as his predecessor to reduce the disorder in the state economy; and when, upon the occasion of a loan, he exposed the financial condition of France in a pamphlet, he drew upon himself the displeasure of the court and the aristocracy to such a degree, that he was obliged to resign his office. This happened at a time when the American war had increased the scarcity of money, and aroused the feeling of liberty and republicanism in France. It was, therefore, a great misfortune for the French monarchy, that just at this critical moment the frivolous and extravagant Calonne undertook the management of the finances. This man departed from the frugal plan of Necker, acceded to the wishes of the queen and the necessities of the princes and courtiers, and deluded the world with high-sounding promises of putting an end to all difficulties. The most splendid festivals were celebrated in Versailles, and the talents of Calonne loudly extolled. But his means, also, were soon exhausted.

The popular favorite Necker, was a second time summoned, in 1788, to the ministry. He first allayed the irritation by repealing resolutions against the parliament, and then made preparations for summoning the Estates. Owing to this, there soon arose a division between him and the parliament and Notables, whom he had again consulted. The latter were of opinion that the new assembly should conform itself, both as to the number of representatives and the mode of procedure, to the Estates of 1614, while Necker wished to allow a double representation to the third Estate, and that they should vote individually, and not as a class; a view that was supported by some of the ablest writers of the nation in a multitude of pamphlets. (Abbè Sieyes: ‘What is the third Estate?’) Necker’s opinion triumphed. An order of the king fixed the number of noble and ecclesiastical members at 300 each, that of the citizens at 600, and appointed the following May as the time of opening. Necker was the hero of the day, but he was not the pilot of the ship, he only ‘drove the wind.’

In the beginning of May 1789, the deputies of the three Estates, and among them some of the ablest and most accomplished men of France, assembled at Versailles. The third Estate, irritated by the neglect of the court at the opening and during the audience, came to a rupture with the two privileged Estates at the first sitting, when the latter required that the Estates should carry on their debates separately, whilst the former insisted upon a general council and individual votes. After a contest of some weeks, the third Estate, which had chosen the astronomer, Bailli, the freedom-inspired representative of Paris, for its President, but which was guided by the superior talents of Sieyes and Mirabeau, declared itself a National Assembly, upon which it was joined by portions of the other Estates. The Assembly at once passed the resolution of allowing the levying of the present taxes only so long as the Estates should remain undissolved. This proceeding disturbed the court, and inspired it with the thought of granting a constitution to the nation, and thus rendering the estates unnecessary. For this purpose, a royal sitting was appointed, and the hall of assembly closed for a few days. Upon the intelligence of this, the deputies proceeded to the empty saloon of the Tennis Court, and raised their hands in a solemn vow not to separate till they had given a new constitution to the nation. When this Court also was closed, the meetings were held in the church of St. Louis. The royal sitting took place on the 23d of June. But neither the speech of the king, nor the sketch of the new constitution, afforded due satisfaction, and they were consequently received with coldness. After the termination of the sitting, Louis dissolved the Assembly. The nobility and clergy obeyed, but the citizen class retained their seats, and when the master of the ceremonies called upon them to obey, Mirabeau exclaimed: ‘Tell your master that we sit here by the power of the people, and that we are only to be driven out by the bayonet!’ The weak king did not venture to encounter this resolute resistance by force, but rather advised the nobility and clergy to join the citizens.

The government of the city was made over to a democratic municipality, at the head of which stood Bailli, as mayor. The court, alarmed at the increasing ferment, determined upon retiring to Versailles with a few regiments of German and Swiss troops. In this proceeding, the leaders of the movement believed they saw the purpose of some act of violence, and made use of it accordingly to excite fresh irritation. The intelligence was spread abroad in Paris, that Necker had been suddenly dismissed and banished from the country, and a favorite of the queen placed in his office. This was interpreted as the first step in the contemplated outrage, and proved the signal for a general rise. Crowds of the citizens, wearing the newly-invented national cockade, (blue, white, and red,) paraded through the streets, the alarm-bell was sounded, the work-shops of the gunsmiths plundered; tumult and confusion reigned everywhere. On the 14th of July, after the populace had taken 30,000 stand of arms and some cannon from the Hospital des Invalides, took place the storming of the Bastille, an old castle that served as a state prison. The governor, Delaunay, and seven of the garrison, fell victims to the popular rage; their heads were carried through the streets upon poles; and many men who were hated as aristocrats were put to death. The banished Necker was recalled, and his entrance into the towns and villages of France was celebrated as that of a hero crowned with victory. In this joyous reception of the minister, the people displayed their enthusiasm for liberty and their hatred to the court and the aristocracy. Lafayette, the champion of the liberty of America, was appointed commander of the National Guard, and whilst the king returned to Paris, and exhibited himself to the assembled people from the balcony of the council-house with the cockade in his hat, the count of Artois, and many nobles of the first rank, as Condé, Polignac, left their country in mournful anticipation of coming events.

Since the storming of the Bastille, the laws and magistrates had lost their authority in France, and the power lay in the hands of the populace. The country people no longer paid their tithes, taxes, and feudal dues to the clergy and nobles, but took vengeance for the long oppression they had suffered, by destroying the manorial castles. When intelligence of these proceedings spread abroad, it was proposed in the National Assembly, that the upper classes should prove to the people by their actions, that they were willing to lighten their burdens, and that, with this purpose, they should renounce, of their own free will, all the inherited feudal privileges of the middle ages. This proposal excited a storm of enthusiasm and self-renunciation. None would be behind-hand. Estates, towns, provinces, each strove for the honor of making the greatest sacrifices for the common good. This was the celebrated 4th of August, when, in one feverish and excited session, all tithes, labor-dues, manorial rights, corporate bodies, etc., were abolished, the soil was declared free, and the equality of all citizens of the state before the law and in regard to taxation was decreed. These resolutions, and the necessary laws and arrangements required for their reduction to practice, which were gradually adopted, produced in a short time a complete revolution in all existing conditions. The Church lost her possessions and was subjected to the state; monasteries and religious orders were dissolved, and the clergy paid by the state, the bishoprics newly regulated, and religious freedom established. Priests were required to swear allegiance, like officers of state, to the new constitution; but as the pope forbade it, the greater number refused the oath, which was the occasion of the French clergy being divided into sworn and unsworn priests; the latter lost their offices and were exposed to all kinds of persecutions, but enjoyed the confidence of the faithful among the people. The noble forfeited not only his privileges and the greater part of his income, but he also lost the external distinctions of his rank, by the abolition of all titles, coats of arms, orders, etc. Upon the principle of equality, all Frenchmen were to be addressed as ‘citizens.’ For the purpose of annihilating every remnant of the ancient system, France received a new geographical division into departments and arrondissements; a new system of judicature with jurymen; equality of weights, measures, and standards; and lastly, a constitutional government, in which the privileges of royalty were limited, and the legislative power committed to a single chamber, with a universal right of suffrage.

On the 5th of October, an immense multitude, chiefly of women, proceeded to Versailles to demand from the king relief from the scarcity of bread, and a return of the court to Paris. The king first attempted to pacify them by a conciliatory answer. But a wing of the palace was stormed during the night, and the guard put to the sword; the arrival of Lafayette, with the National Guard, prevented any further mischief. Upon the following day, the king was obliged to consent to proceed to Paris with his family, under the escort of this frightful crew, and to take up his residence in the Tuileries, which had for many years remained unoccupied. Shortly after, the National Assembly also followed, for whom the riding-school in the neighborhood of the palace had been prepared. The power now fell more and more into the hands of the lower class, who were kept in perpetual excitement by journalists and popular leaders, and were goaded to hatred against the court and the “aristocrats.”

On the day of the year in which the Bastille was taken, a grand federative festival was arranged in the Champ de Mars (July 14, 1790). It must have been a moving spectacle, when Talleyrand, at the head of 300 priests, clothed in white, and girded with tri-colored scarfs, performed the consecration of the banner at the altar of the country; when Lafayette, in the name of the National Guard, the president of the National Assembly, and, at length, the king himself, vowed fidelity to the Constitution; when the innumerable multitude raised their hands aloft and repeated after him the oath of citizenship, and the queen herself, carried away by enthusiasm, raised the Dauphin in the air and joined in the acclamations. This was the last day of happiness for the king, whose situation after this grew constantly worse. Necker, no longer equal to the difficulties, left France and retired to Switzerland. Mirabeau, won over by the court, opposed farther encroachments upon the kingly power with the whole of his eloquence, inasmuch as he believed a constitutional monarchy and not a republic to be the best government for France. Unfortunately for the king, this great man died, in his forty-second year, of a sickness brought on by his disorderly life and by over-exertion. A splendid funeral ceremony gave evidence of the influence of the man in whom sank the last strong pillar of the throne. Weak and unselfreliant as Louis XVI was, he now lost all firmness. By his refusal to receive a sworn priest as his confessor, or to declare the emigrants traitors, who were endeavoring from Coblentz to excite the European courts to a crusade against France, he excited a suspicion that he was not honestly a supporter of the constitution he had sworn to maintain, and not altogether ignorant of the efforts of the emigrants. The more this suspicion gained ground with the people, the more perilous became the position of the king. At this crisis, Louis embraced the desperate resolution of secretly flying to the northern frontier of his kingdom. Bouillé, a resolute general in Lorraine, was let into the secret, and promised to support the scheme with his troops. Leaving behind him a letter, in which he protested against all the acts which had been forced from him since October, 1789, the king happily escaped, with his family, from Paris in a large carriage. But the clumsily executed project nevertheless miscarried. Louis was recognized in St. Menehould by the postmaster, Drouet, stopped by the militia at Varennes, and led back to Paris at the command of the National Assembly, who sent three of their members, and among them, Pètion, to receive the royal family. The suspension of the royal authority, which had already been pronounced by the Assembly, remained in force, till Louis proclaimed and swore to observe, the Constitution completed at the end of September.

The attention of the government and the Assembly was particularly directed to the priests, who had refused the oath, and to the emigrants. Both were endeavoring to overthrow the existing order of things: the former by exciting hatred and discontent among the French people; the latter by making military preparations at Coblentz, and endeavoring to stir up foreign powers to an armed invasion of France. The Assembly therefore determined upon seeking out and arresting the unsworn priests, and declaring the emigrants traitors and conspirators, and punishing them by the loss of their estates and incomes. The king put his veto upon both these resolutions, and prevented their execution. This refusal was ascribed to the secret hopes, entertained by the court, of assistance from foreign powers and of the triumph of the emigrants, and thus the temper of the people grew continually more hostile. It was also known that the queen was in correspondence with her brother, the emperor of Austria, and that she looked for support and safety to the emigrant nobility. Neither was it any longer doubtful that war must soon break out, since the emperor of Austria and the king of Prussia, after a conference in Pillnitz (August, 1791,) were making preparations, and demanded of the French government not only to make befitting indemnification to the German princes and nobles who had suffered loss by the abolition of tithes and feudal burdens, and to restore the province of Avignon, that had been wrested from the pope, but to arrange the government upon the plan proposed by the king himself in June, 1789. These demands were followed by a declaration of war against Austria and Prussia on the part of the French government, to which the king yielded his consent with tears. For the purpose of securing the capital and the National Assembly against any attack it was resolved to summon 20,000 of the federates from the southern provinces, under pretense of celebrating the festival of the Bastille, and to commit the defense of Paris to them. But Louis refused his consent to this resolution also. Upon this, the Girondist ministers laid down their offices, after Madame Roland had reproached and reprimanded the king in a letter that was soon in the hands of every body. These proceedings increased the irritation to such an extent that it became easy for the republicans to excite a popular insurrection. On the 20th of June, the anniversary of the meeting in the Tennis Court, the terrible mob, armed with pikes, marched from the suburbs, under the conduct of the brewer, Santerre, and the butcher, Legendre, into the Tuileries, to force the king to confirm the decree against the unsworn priests and for the summoning of the National Guard. But here also Louis remained firm. He defied for several hours all threats and dangers, and endured the insolence of the mob, who even placed the red Jacobin cap upon his head and gave him wine to drink, with the courage of a martyr. The rather tardy arrival of Pètion with the National Guard at length freed him from his perilous position.

At midnight on the 10th of August, a fearful mob proceeded to the Hôtel de Ville, for the purpose of establishing a new democratic municipality, and then marched to the royal palace, which was defended by 900 Swiss, and the Parisian National Guard under the command of Mandat. The honest Mandat was resolved to check the advancing masses, which were ever assuming a more menacing aspect, by force; his destruction was consequently resolved upon by the democrats. He was commanded to appear at the Hôtel de Ville, and assassinated on his way thither; upon which the National Guard, uncertain what to do, and disgusted by the presence of a number of nobles in the palace, for the most part dispersed. The mob constantly assumed a more threatening aspect; cannon were turned upon the palace, the pikemen pressed forwards upon every entrance, the people loudly demanded the deposition of the king. At this crisis, Louis suffered himself to be persuaded to seek for protection with his family in the hall of the National Assembly, where they passed sixteen hours in a narrow closet. The king had scarcely left the palace, before the tumultuous multitude pressed forward more violently; the Swiss guard maintained a gallant resistance, and defended the entrance. When the report of musketry was heard in the adjoining Assembly, the indignant representatives of the people compelled the intimidated king to give his guard orders to cease firing. By this order, the faithful defenders of monarchy were doomed to destruction. Scarcely had the furious mob observed that the enemy’s fire had ceased, before they stormed the palace, slaughtered those they found in it, and destroyed the furniture. Nearly 5,000 men, and among them, 700 Swiss, fell in the struggle, or died afterwards, the victims of the popular fury. In the mean time, the National Assembly, upon the proposal of Vergniaud, embraced the resolution “to suspend the royal authority, to place the king and his family under control, to give the prince a tutor, and to assemble a National Convention.” The Temple, a strong fortress erected by the Knights Templars, soon enclosed the imprisoned royal family.

After the suspension of the king, a new ministry was formed by the National Assembly, in which, by the side of the Girondist, Roland, and others, the terrible Danton held office as minister of justice. This ministry, and the new Common Council of Paris which had appointed itself, and which, after the 10th of August, had strengthened itself by members who might be depended upon as hesitating at no wickedness, now possessed the whole power. The Municipal Council ordered the police of the capital to be conducted by pikemen, and the prisons were quickly filled with the ‘suspected’ and ‘aristocrats.’ It was now that the frightful resolution was matured of getting rid of the opponents of the new order of things by a bloody tribunal, and of suppressing all resistance by terror. After the recusant priests had been slaughtered by hundreds in the monasteries and prisons, the dreadful days of September were commenced. From the 2d to the 7th of September, bands of hired murderers and villains were collected round the prisons. Twelve of them acted as jurymen and judge, the others as executioners. The imprisoned, with the exception of a few whose names were marked upon a list, were put to death by this inhuman crew under a semblance of judicial proceedings. Nearly 3,000 human beings were either put to death singly, or slaughtered in masses, by these wretches, who received a daily stipend from the Common Council for their ‘labors.’ Among the murdered was the princess Lamballe, the friend of the queen; a troop of pikemen carried her head upon a pole to the Temple, and held it before Marie Antoinette’s window. The example of the capital was imitated in many of the departments. The barbarous destruction of all statues, coats of arms, incriptions, and other memorials of a former period, formed the conclusion of the August and September days, which were the transition period between the French monarchy and republic. The autumnal equinox was distinguished as the commencement of the reign of liberty and equality under the republican National Convention.

Lafayette, who was serving with the northern army, and who, after the days of June, had returned to Paris on his own responsibility, for the purpose, if possible, of saving the king, was now summoned before the National Assembly to answer for his conduct. Convinced that the Jacobins were seeking for his death, he fled, with some friends who shared his sentiments, to Holland, that he might escape to America; but he fell into the hands of enemies, who treated him like a prisoner of war, and allowed him to live for five years in the dungeons of Olmutz and Magdeburg. Talleyrand repaired to England, and thence to America, where he awaited better times.

The new Assembly, which, under the influence of the Jacobins, had been elected by universal suffrage, was composed almost exclusively of republicans, but of different dispositions and opinions.

The trial of the king, ‘Louis Capet,’ was one of the first proceedings of the National Convention. An iron safe had been discovered in a wall of the Tuileries, containing secret letters and documents, from which it was apparent that the French court had not only been in alliance with Austria and the emigrants, and had projected plans for overthrowing the Constitution that had been sworn to by Louis, but that it had also attempted to win over single members of the National Assembly (for example, Mirabeau), by annuities, bribery, and other means. It was upon this that the republicans, who would willingly have been quit of the king, founded a charge of treason and conspiracy against the country and the people. Louis, with the assistance of two advocates, to whom the noble Malasherbes, of his own free impulse, associated himself, appeared twice before the Convention (11th and 26th December), but despite his own dignified bearing and defense, and despite the efforts of the Girondist party to have the sentence referred to a general assembly of the people, Louis was condemned to death in a stormy meeting, by a small majority of five voices, January 17th, 1793. The party of the Mountain, where the advocate, Maximilian Robespierre, the former marquis St. Just, the frightful Danton, the lame Couthon, and the duke of Orleans, who had assumed the name of Citizen Egalité, were the leaders and chiefs, had left no means unattempted to produce this result by terror; they would, nevertheless, have failed in their purpose, had they not carried a resolution beforehand in the Assembly, that a bare majority should be sufficient for a sentence of death, and not, as had heretofore been the custom, that two thirds of the votes should be necessary. The murder was thus veiled by a show of justice. On the 21st of January, the unfortunate king ascended the scaffold in the square of the Revolution. The drums of the National Guard drowned his last words, and ‘Robespierre’s women’ greeted his bloody head with the shout of ‘Vive la République.’

The Girondists, enraged at the increasing power of the populace in Paris, and the unbridled acts of violence committed by the mob, entertained the project of converting France into a republican union like North America, and by this means, destroying the supremacy of the capital. The Mountain and the Jacobins, who saw that this scheme would weaken the revolutionary power of France, and endanger the future of the democratic republic, commenced a war of life and death with the Girondists (also called Brissotins) upon this point. They reproached them with weakening the power of the people, and destroying the republic at a moment when France was threatened with enemies both within and without; and when all these attacks were ignominiously repulsed by the victorious eloquence of the Girondists, the savage Marat, in his ‘Friend of the People,’ called upon the populace to rise against the moderate and lukewarm, and thus gave occasion to daily riots and tumults, which disturbed the capital and endangered life and property.

The National Convention acquired greater unanimity by the exclusion of the Girondists and the moderates; so that, from this time, it was enabled to develop a frightful power and activity. For the purpose of better superintending its multitudinous affairs, it resolved itself into committees, of which the committee of public safety and that of public security acquired a frightful celebrity by the persecution of every one opposed to the new order of things. A revolutionary tribunal, consisting of twelve jurymen and five judges, to which that man of blood, Fouquier Tinville, occupied the office of public accuser, seconded the activity of these committees by a cruel and summary administration of justice. At the head of the committee of public safety stood three men, whose names became the terror and horror of all just men; the envious and malignant Robespierre, the bloodthirsty Couthon, and the frantic for republican liberty and equality, St. Just. They pursued their bloody object without regard to human life; every thing that ventured to oppose their stormy course was unpityingly hurled down. Thus originated the terrible period of the years ‘93 and ‘94, which displayed itself in three different directions—​within, by a cruel persecution of all citizens who were known as aristocrats or favorers of royality, and by a bloody suppression of insurrections in the south and west; without, by a vigorous defensive war against innumerable enemies.

The former minister, Malasherbes, the members of the Constituent Assembly, Bailli, etc. all who belonged to the old monarchy, and who had not saved themselves by flight, died by the guillotine. Among them was the severely-tried queen, Marie Antoinette, who displayed, during her trial and at her execution, a firmness and strength of soul that was worthy of her education and her birth. Her son died beneath the cruel treatment of a Jacobin; her daughter (the duchess of Angoulême) carried a gloomy spirit and an embittered heart with her to the grave. Louis XVI’s pious sister, Elizabeth, also died on the scaffold; the head of the profligate duke of Orleans, whom even the favor of Danton could not preserve from the envy of Robespierre, had fallen before her own.

The bloody rule of the Mountain party displayed itself in its most frightful excess in the suppression of the revolt against the reign of terror. When the inhabitants of Normandy and Bretagne rose in support of the excluded Girondists, the committee of public safety ordered the district between the Seine, the Loire, and the extreme sea-coast, to be visited with blood and slaughter by the terrible Carrier. This monster ordered, at Nantes, his victims to be drowned by hundreds in the Loire by means of ships with movable bottoms (noyades.) The proceedings of the Jacobins in the cities of the south, Lyons, Marseilles, and Toulon, were still more barbarous. In the first of these towns Chalier, who had formerly been a priest, and now was president of the Jacobin club, excited the people by scandalous placards to plunder and destroy the ‘aristocrats.’ Irritated at this audacity, the respectable and wealthy citizens of Lyons, who were thus menaced in their lives and property, procured the execution of the demagogue, July 16th, 1793. This deed filled the Parisian terrorists with fury. A republican army appeared before the walls of the town, which, after an obstinate contest, was taken and fearfully punished. Fréron a companion of Marat, Fouché, Couthon, and others, caused the inhabitants to be shot down in crowds, because the guillotine was too tedious in its operations; whole streets were either pulled down or blown into the air with gunpowder. The goods of the rich were divided among the populace; Lyons was to be annihilated, reduced to a nameless common. The republicans raged in a similar way in Marseilles and Toulon. The royalists of Toulon had called upon the English for assistance, and surrendered to them their town and harbor. Confident in this assistance, and in the strength of their walls, the citizens of Toulon bade defiance to their republican enemies. But the army of sans-culottes, in which the young Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte, exhibited the first proofs of his military talents, overcame all obstacles. Toulon was stormed. The English, unable to maintain the town, set fire to the fleet, and left the unfortunate inhabitants to the frightful vengeance of the Convention. Here also the barbarous Frèron ordered all the wealthy citzens to be shot, and their property to be divided among the sans-culottes. The respectable inhabitants fled, and abandoned the city to the mob and the galley-slaves. Tallien behaved in a similar manner in Bourdeaux; and in the north of France, Lebon marched from place to place with a guillotine.

But the fate of La Vendée was the most frightful. This singular country, situated in the west of France, was covered with woods, hedges, and thickets, and intersected by ditches. Here dwelt a contented people, in rural quietude, and in the simplicity of the olden time. The peasants and tenants were attached to their landlords; they loved the king; and clung with reverence to their clergy and their church usages, which had been dear and sacred to them from their youth. When the National Assembly slaughtered or expelled their unsworn priests, when the blood of their king was poured out on the guillotine, when the children of the peasants were called away by a general summons, to the army—​then the enraged people roused themselves to resistance and civil conflict. Under brave leaders, of undistinguished birth, as Charette, Stofflet, Cathelineau, who were joined by a few nobles, Laroche-Jaquelein, D’Elbée, etc., they at first drove back the republican army, conquered Saumur, and threatened Nantes. Upon this the Convention despatched a revolutionary army to La Vendée, under the command of Westermann and the frantic Jacobins, Ronsin and Rossignol. These fell upon the inhabitants like wild beasts, set fire to towns, villages, farms, and woods, attempted to overcome the resistance of the ‘royalists’ by terror and outrage. But the courage of the Vendéan peasants remained unsubdued. It was not until general Kleber marched against La Vendée with the brave troops who had returned to their homes after the surrender of Mayence, that this unfortunate people gradually succumbed to the attacks of their enemies, after the land had become a desert, and thousands of the inhabitants had saturated the soil with their blood. La Vendée, however, was only restored to tranquillity when Hoche, who was equally renowned for his courage and philanthropy, assumed the command of the army, offered peace to those who were weary of the contest, and reduced the refractory to submission. Stofflet and Charette were made prisoners of war, and shot.

The rage and cruelty of the Jacobins at length excited the disgust of the chiefs of the Cordeliers, Danton and Camille Desmoulins. The former, who was rather a voluptuary than a tyrant, and who was capable of kindly feelings, had grown weary of slaughter, and had retired into the country for a few months with a young wife, to enjoy the wealth and happiness that the revolution had brought him; but Camille Desmoulins, in his much read paper, ‘The Old Cordelier,’ applied the passages where the Roman historian, Tacitus, describes the tyranny and cruelty of Tiberius, so appropriately to his own times, that the application to the three chiefs of the committee of safety and their laws against the suspected was not to be mistaken. This enraged the Jacobins; and when, about this time, several friends and adherents of Danton (Fabre d’Eglantine, Chabot, etc.) were guilty of deceit and corruption in connection with the abolition of the East India Company, and others gave offense by their sacrilegious proceedings, the committee of safety made use of the opportunity to destroy the whole party of Danton. For since the Convention had altered the calendar and the names of the months, had made the year commence on the 22d of September, had abolished the observance of Sunday and the festivals, and introduced in their place the decades and sans-culotte feasts, many Dantonists, like Hebert, Chaumette, Momoro, Cloots, and others, had occasioned great scandal by their animosity to priests and Christianity. They desecrated and plundered the churches, ridiculed the mass, vestments and the church utensils, which they carried through the streets in blasphemous processions, raged with the spirit of Vandals against all the monuments of Christianity, and at length carried a resolution through the Convention that the worship of Reason should be introduced in place of the Catholic service of God. A solemn festival, in which Momoro’s pretty wife personated the Goddess of Reason in the church of Nôtre Dame, marked the commencement of this new religion. Robespierre, who plumed himself upon his reputation for virtue, because he was not a participator in the excesses or avarice of Danton and his associates, took offense at these proceedings. He determined to destroy their originators, and in their fall to involve the destruction of Desmoulins and Danton, before whose powerful natures his own spirit, which was filled with envy and ambition, stood abashed. Scarcely, therefore, had Danton resumed his seat in the Convention, before St. Just began the violent struggle by a remarkable proposal, in which he divided the enemies of the republic into three classes: the corrupt, the ultra-revolutionary, and the moderates, and insisted upon their punishment. This proposal resulted in nineteen of the ultra-revolutionaries, and among them Cloots, Momoro, Ronsin, and several members of the Common Council, being led to the guillotine on the 19th of March, 1794. On the 31st of April, the corrupt were placed before the Revolutionary Tribunal, and Danton, Camille Desmoulins, Herault de Sechelles, etc., were maliciously distinguished as their partisans and involved in their fate. But Danton and Desmoulins, supported by a raging mob that were devoted to them, demanded with vehemence that their accusers should be confronted with them. For three days, Danton’s voice of thunder and the tumult among the populace rendered his condemnation impossible. For the first time, the bloody men of the Revolutionary Tribunal became confused. The Convention, at length, by a law of its own, gave the Tribunal the power of condemning the accused who were endeavoring to subvert the existing order of things by an insurrection, without further hearing; upon which the blood-stained heroes of the 10th of August and the days of September, who during their trial had shown that a lofty spirit might dwell even in the bosom of criminals, were led to the guillotine and beheaded, with a crowd of inferior Hebertists. They died with courage and resolution.

Since the fall of Danton, the committee of safety had ruled with well-nigh unlimited sway, and by repeated executions and arrests had brought the reign of terror to its highest point. But its chiefs had lost the confidence of the people and of the Convention. The friends of Danton were on the watch for the favorable moment of attack, and the number of their enemies was increased, when Robespierre, to put an end to the blasphemous proceedings of the adherents of the worship of Reason, had a resolution passed by the Convention in May, ‘That the existence of a Supreme Being and the immortality of the soul were truths:’ and rendered himself at once hateful and ridiculous by his pride at the new festival in honor of the Supreme Being in the Tuileries, at which he officiated as high priest. Among his opponents was Tallien, who at a former period had been guilty of excesses in Bourdeaux, but who had been brought to adopt different principles by the fascinating Fontenay Cabarrus. With him were joined Frèron, Fouché, Vadier, the polished rhetorician Barrère, and others. On the 9th Thermidor, a battle for life or death commenced in the Convention. Robespierre and his adherents were not allowed to speak; their voices were drowned in the cries of their enemies, who carried through a stormy meeting the resolution, ‘That the three chiefs of the committee of safety, Robespierre, St. Just, Couthon, and their confederate, Henriot, should be denounced, and conveyed as prisoners to the Luxembourg palace.’ They were liberated by the mob on their way; whereupon the drunken Henriot threatened the Convention with the National Guard, whilst the others betook themselves to the Hôtel de Ville. But the National Assembly was beforehand with them by a hasty resolution. A loudly proclaimed sentence of outlawry suddenly dispersed Henriot’s army, whilst the citizens who were opposed to the Jacobins arranged themselves around the Convention. The accused were again secured in the Hôtel de Ville. Henriot crept into a sewer, whence he was dragged forth by hooks. Robespierre attempted to destroy himself by a pistol-shot, but only succeeded in shattering his lower jaw, and was first conveyed, horribly disfigured, amidst the curses and execrations of the people, before the Revolutionary Tribunal, and then guillotined, with twenty-one of his adherents. On the two following days, seventy-two Jacobins shared the fate of their leaders.

Robespierre’s overthrow by the ‘Thermidorians’ was the commencement of a return to moderation and order. The assemblies of the people were gradually limited, the power of the Common Council diminished, and the lower classes deprived of their weapons. Frèron, converted from a republican bloodhound into an aristocrat, assembled the young men, who from their clothing were called the ‘gilded youth,’ around him. These, with the heavy stick they usually carried about them, attacked the Jacobins in the streets and in their clubs at every opportunity, and opposed the song of the ‘Awakening of the People’ to the Marseillaise. At length, the club was shut up and the cloister of the Jacobins pulled down. The Convention strengthened itself by the recall of the expelled members and of such Girondists as were still left, and ordered the worst of the Terrorists, Lebon, Carrier, Fouquier, Tinville, etc., to be executed. But when four of the most active members of the committee of safety, (Barrère, Vadier, Collot d’Herbois, and Billaud Varennes) were denounced, the Jacobins collected the last remains of their strength, and drove the people, who were suffering from a scarcity and want of money, to a frightful insurrection. Crowds of grisly wretches surrounded the house of assembly, and demanded, with threatening cries, the liberation of the patriots, bread, and the constitution of 1793. Pichegru, who was just at this moment in Paris, came to the assistance of the distressed convention with soldiers and citizens, and dispersed the crowd. The still more formidable insurrection of the 1st Prairial, 1795, in which the mob surrounded the convention both within and without from seven o’clock in the morning till two at night, for the purpose of enforcing a return to the reign of terror, was also suppressed by the courageous president, Boissy d’Anglas. From this time, the power of the Terrorists was no more. Many Jacobins died by their own hands; others were beheaded, imprisoned, or transported. By so much the stronger became the party of the royalists, who wished to have a king again; and when the new government was shortly after determined upon, by which the executive powder was to be delivered to the Directory of five persons, the legislative power to a council of Ancients and a council of Five Hundred, the republican members of the Convention feared that in the new election they might be thrust aside by the royalists. They therefore made additions to the original charter of the constitution, wherein it was declared that two-thirds of the two legislative councils must be chosen from members of the Convention. The royalists raised objections to this and some other limitations of the freedom of election; and when these were unattended with success, they occasioned the insurrection of the Sections. Hereupon, the Convention made over to the Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte, the suppression of the insurgent royalists, who were joined by all the enemies of the republic and of the revolution. The victory of the 13th Vendemiaire, (October 5, 1795,) which was fought in the streets of Paris, gave the supremacy to the republicans of the Convention, and the command of the Italian army to Napoleon, who was then twenty-six years of age, and who, a short time before, had married Josephine, the widow of General Beauharnois.

The French army in Savoy and on the frontiers of Italy was in a melancholy condition. The soldiers were in want of every thing. At this crisis, Napoleon appeared as their commander-in-chief, and in a short time contrived so to inspirit the desponding troops and attach them to his person, that under his guidance they cheerfully encountered the greatest dangers. Where the love of glory and the sentiment of honor were not sufficient, there the treasures of wealthy Italy served as a stimulous to valor. In April 1796, Napoleon defeated the octogenarian Austrian general, Beaulieu, at Nilesimo and Montenotte, separated, by this victory, the Austrians from the Sardinians, and so terrified the king, Victor Amadeus, that he consented to a disadvantageous peace, by which he surrendered Savoy and Nice to the French, gave up six fortresses to the general, and submitted to the oppressive condition of allowing the French army to march through his land at any time.

The course of Napoleon’s victories in Upper Italy was equally rapid. After the memorable passage of the bridge of Lodi, he marched into Austrian Milan, subjected the Lombard towns, and so terrified the smaller princes by the success of his arms, that they were only too happy to make peace with the victor at any price. Napoleon extorted large sums of money, and valuable pictures, treasures of art and manuscripts, from the dukes of Parma, Modena, Lucca, Tuscany, etc.

Wurmser now took the place of the old Beaulieu. But he also was defeated at Castiglione, and afterwards besieged in Mantua. The army under Alvinzi that was sent to his relief sustained three defeats (at Arcola, Rivoli, La Favorita), by which the whole Austrian force in Italy was destroyed, dispersed, or captured. This compelled the gallant Wurmser to deliver up Mantua to the glorious victor. Bonaparte, respecting the courage of his enemy, permitted a free retreat to the gray-headed marshal, his staff, and a part of the brave garrison. Pope Pius VI, terrified at these rapid successes, hastened to purchase the peace of Tolentino by cessions of territory, sums of money, and works of art. Archduke Charles now assumed the command of the Austrian army in Italy. But he also was compelled to a disastrous retreat, and was pursued by Bonaparte as far as Klagenfurt, with the view of falling upon Vienna. The emperor Francis, anxious for the fate of his capital, allowed himself to be persuaded by female influence to conclude the disadvantageous preliminary peace of Leoben, at the very moment when, by the non-arrival of the expected reinforcements, and the threatening movements of the Tyrolese, Styrians, and Carinthians, the position of the French army was becoming critical. About the time this treaty of peace was concluded, a popular insurrection arose in the rear of the French army, in the territory of the republic of Venice, in consequence of which many Frenchmen were murdered in Verona and its neighborhood, and even the sick and wounded in the hospitals were not spared. This was taken advantage of by Napoleon to destroy the Venetian republic.

The French marched into Venice, carried off the ships and the stores of the arsenal, robbed the churches, galleries, and libraries of their choicest ornaments and most valued treasures, and kept possession of the city till the negotiations with Austria were so far advanced, that the peace of Campo Formio (October 17, 1797), by which Upper Italy fell into the hands of France under the name of the Cisalpine Republic, was concluded. Austria, who by this peace also surrendered Belgium to the French republic, and consented to the cession of the left bank of the Rhine with Mayence, received the territory of Venice, together with Dalmatio, as a recompense for this loss. The princes, prelates, the nobles, who suffered by this abandonment of the farther Rhineland, were to be indemnified on the right bank of the river, and this as well as all other points relating to Germany, were to be settled at the Congress at Rastadt. Napoleon opened this congress himself, and then returned to Paris, where he was received with acclamation.

The expedition of Napoleon to Egypt and Syria, produced a fresh coalition of the three great European powers, Russia, England, and Austria, against France. Russia had been governed since the year 1796 by Paul, the eldest son of Catherine, a prince with a mind somewhat deranged, who cherished the bitterest hatred against the Revolution; and who, as a great admirer of the Order of Malta, to the Grand Mastership of which he had himself appointed, saw in the capture of that island by Napoleon, cause for war. England feared danger to her foreign possessions from the Egyptian expedition, and scattered money with a liberal hand to raise up fresh enemies against France. Austria was at variance with the directoral government, because the house of the French ambassador in Vienna, Bernadotte, had been broken open, and the tricolor flag torn down and burnt, without the Austrian government having afforded the required satisfaction. War was waged, at the same time, in Germany, in Italy, in Switzerland, and in the Netherlands.

After his disembarkation at Alexandria, the whole of the French fleet at Aboukir, owing to the carelessness of the admiral, was defeated and captured by the English naval hero, Nelson; and Napoleon was in consequence obliged to make arrangements for a longer stay. In July, he marched from Alexandria through the Egyptian desert to Cairo. The distress of the army, unprovided with water or sufficient necessaries, in the burning heat, was very great. In the battle of the Pyramids, July 21st 1798, ‘from the tops of which 4,000 years looked down upon the combatants,’ the Mamalukes, who at that time swayed Egypt under the Turkish government, were defeated; whereupon Bonaparte marched into Cairo, and established a new government, police, and taxation, upon the European pattern, and ordered the curiosities of this wonderful land to be examined, and its monuments and antiquities to be collected and described, by the artists and men of learning who accompanied his army.

A dreadful insurrection broke out in Cairo, October 21st 1798, which could only be suppressed with difficulty by the superiority of European tactics, after nearly 6,000 Mahommedans had been slain. Napoleon made use of the victory to extort money, and then marched with his Turkish troops against Syria. After the conquest of Jaffa, where he ordered 2,000 Arnauts, whom he had a second time taken prisoners, to be shot as perjured, he proceeded to the siege of Jean d’Acre. It was there that the fortune of Napoleon met with its first rebuff. The Turks, provided with artillery by the English admiral, Sir Sidney Smith, repelled the assaults of the enemy, despite their wonderful valor. At the same time, a Turkish army threatened the European soldiers in the interior of the country. The former was, indeed, defeated and dispersed by Junot at Nazareth, and at Mount Tabor by Kleber; nevertheless, upon the plague breaking out among his troops, Napoleon found himself compelled to give up Acre and to commence a retreat. The horses were laden with the sick, the soldiers suffered the most dreadful privations; the dangers and the distresses of the war were frightful. Napoleon shared all the fatigues with the meanest of his army; he is even said to have visited a hospital filled with those sick of the plague. He again reached Cairo in June, and in the following month, defeated a Turkish army of three times his number, at Aboukir. A short time after this, he learned the disasters of the French in Italy from some newspapers; and the intelligence produced such an effect upon him, that he determined upon returning to France. He quietly made his preparations for departure with the greatest expedition. After transferring the command of the Egyptian army to Kleber, Napoleon sailed from the harbor of Alexandria with two frigates and a few small transports, and about 500 followers, and, guided by the star of his fortunes, reached the coast of France undiscovered by the English, and landed at Frejus amidst the acclamations of the people.

Upon his arrival in Paris, Napoleon embraced the resolution of overthrowing the directoral government which had lost all authority and consideration. With this purpose, he made himself secure of the officers and troops that were in Paris, and consulted with Sieyes, one of the directors, and his own brother, Lucien Bonaparte, who had been elected president of the Five Hundred, on the means of carrying his plan into execution. Lucien transferred the sittings of the council to St. Cloud, for the purpose of bringing the members within the power of the soldiers. There, Napoleon first attempted to win over the members to his plans by persuasion; when he found that he could not succeed in this, but rather, that he was overwhelmed with threats and reproaches, he commanded his grenadiers to clear the room with leveled bayonets. The republicans, who presented a bold front to the danger, were at length compelled to yield to superior force, and sought their safety through the doors and windows. This done a commission of fifty persons was appointed to draw up a fresh constitution, November 9th 1799. Thus ended the violent procedure of the 18th Brumaire, in consequence of which Napoleon Bonaparte took the conduct of affairs into his own strong hands.

According to the consular constitution, the power of the state was divided in the following manner:—​1. To the Senate, which consisted of eighty members, belonged the privilege of selecting from the list of names sent in by the departments the members of the legislative power, and the chief officials and judges. 2. The legislative power was divided into the Tribunate, which numbered one hundred members, and whose office it was to examine and debate upon the proposals of the government; and the legislative bodies, who had only to receive or reject these proposals unconditionally. 3. The government consisted of three Consuls, who were elected for ten years. Of these Consuls, the first, Bonaparte, exercised the powers of government, properly so called; whilst the second and third Consuls (Cambacéres and Lebrun) were merely placed at his side as advisers. Bonaparte, as first Consul, surrounded himself with a state council and a ministry, for which he selected the most talented and experienced men. Talleyrand, the dexterous diplomatist, was minister of the exterior; the astute Fouché superintended the police; Berthier held the staff of general.

Bonaparte was at first engaged in reconciling the old with the new, in combining the results of the Revolution with the forms and manners of the monarchical period. But he very soon made known his preference for the ancient system, by the restoration of all the former arrangements and customs.

The reductions in the emigrant lists brought back many royalists to their homes, and the favor shown to them made them courteous and pliant in the service of the new court. Madame de Stael (daughter of Necker) collected, as in the old time, a circle of accomplished and illustrious men in her saloon. The vanity of the French favored Napoleon’s efforts; when he instituted the Order of the Legion of Honor, republicans and royalists grasped eagerly at the new plaything of human weakness.

One of the first cares of the Consul was the restoration of Christian worship in the French churches. After he had abolished the republican festivals (10th August, 21st January), and introduced the observance of the Sabbath, negotiations were opened with the Roman court, which at length led to the conclusion of the Concordat. No less attention did Napoleon devote to the affairs of education; but he particularly patronized the establishments for practical science, as the Polytechnic School in Paris.

Repeated conspiracies against the life of the First Consul, sometimes undertaken by the republicans and sometimes by the royalists, were always followed by fresh restrictions and a more rigorous system of espionage. The most desperate undertaking of this kind was the attempt, by means of the so-called infernal machine,—​a cask filled with gunpowder, bullets, and inflammable materials, to blow up Bonaparte on his way to the opera-house,—​an attempt which he escaped by the rapidity with which his coachman was driving, but which destroyed many houses and killed several people. In consequence of this atrocious deed, a great number of Jacobins were condemned to deportation, though it afterwards turned out that the plot was undertaken by the royalists. Still more dangerous and extensive were the conspiracies against Napoleon, when the office of Consul was conferred upon him for life by the voice of the people, with the privilege of naming his successor, (August 2, 1802). By this means, the Bourbons were cut off from the last hopes of a return, and the emigrants accordingly left no means untried of destroying him. The desperate George Cadoudal, and Pichegru, who were residing in England, allowed themselves to be employed as tools. They conveyed themselves secretly to France, but were discovered and arrested, with about forty confederates. Before their fate was decided, Napoleon allowed himself to be hurried into the commission of a revolting crime. It had been represented to him that the duke d’Enghien, the chivalrous grandson of the prince of Condé, was the soul of all the royalist conspiracies. Accordingly, this young nobleman, who was residing at Ettenheim, a small town of Baden, was seized at Napoleon’s command, by a troop of armed men, conducted with the greatest haste through Strasburg to Paris, condemned to death by a hurried court-martial, and, despite a magnanimous defense, shot in the trenches of Vincennes.

The fate of the conspirators was shortly after decided upon. Pichegru had already died a violent death in prison, whether by his own hand or that of another is uncertain. George Cadoudal, with eleven confederates, ascended the guillotine. General Moreau, who was implicated, retired into voluntary banishment in America.

NAPOLEON, EMPEROR.

The royalist conspiracies were made use of by Bonaparte to establish an hereditary monarchy. At the instigation of his adherents, the making over the hereditary dignity of emperor to Napoleon was proposed to the Tribunat, sanctioned by the Senate, and confirmed by the whole people by the subscription of their names. Whilst the minds of men were still painfully excited by the late bloody executions, Napoleon was proclaimed emperor of the French, and at the end of the year, solemnly anointed by the pope in the church of Nôtre Dame. The crown, however, he placed on his own head, as well as on that of his wife, Josephine, who knelt before him. This magnificent coronation appeared to be the conclusion of the Revolution, since the whole ancient system, for the extinction of which thousands of human lives had been sacrificed, gradually returned. The new emperor surrounded his throne with a brilliant court, in which the former titles, orders, and gradations of rank were revived under different names. He himself certainly retained his old military simplicity, but the members of his family were made princes and princesses; his generals became marshals; the devoted servants and promoters of his plans were connected with the throne as the great officers of the crown, or as senators with large incomes. The establishment of a new feudal nobility, with the old titles of princes, dukes, counts, barons, completed the splendid edifice of a magnificent imperial court.

The great ends attained by the Revolution—​equality before the law, the peasants’ right of property in the soil and other possessions, remained untouched. Industry made great progress, civil arts and trades received a vast impulse; and an unaccustomed prosperity made itself everywhere visible. Magnificent roads, like those over the Alps, canals, bridges, and improvements of all kinds, are, to the present day, eloquent memorials of the restless activity of this remarkable man. Splendid palaces, majestic bridges, and noble streets, arose in Paris, every thing great or magnificent that art had produced was united in the Louvre; the capital of France glittered with a splendor that had never before been witnessed. The university was arranged upon a most magnificent footing, and appointed the supreme court of supervision and control over the whole system of schools and education.

Whilst the attention of all Europe was directed to the western coast of France, where Napoleon was fitting out ships of every kind with the greatest diligence, and assembling a vast camp at Boulogne, with the purpose, as was believed, of effecting a landing on the English coast, he was making preparations, in all silence, for the memorable campaign of 1805. Never were Napoleon’s talents for command or his military genius displayed in a more brilliant light than in the plan of this campaign. Assured of the assistance of most of the princes of southern Germany, Bonaparte crossed the Rhine in the autumn with seven divisions, commanded by his most experienced marshals, Ney, Lannes, Marmont, Soult, Murat, etc, and marched into Swabia; whilst Bernadotte, disregarding Prussia’s neutrality, pressed forward through the Brandenburg Margravate of Anspach-Bayreuth upon the Isar. This violation of his neutral position irritated the king, Frederick William III, to such a degree, that he entered into closer relationship with the allies, and assumed a threatening aspect, without, however, actually declaring war.

After Ney’s successful engagement at Elchingen, the Austrian general, Mack, was shut up in Ulm, and cut off from the main army. Helpless, and despairing of deliverance, the incompetent commander commenced negotiations with the French, which terminated in the disgraceful capitulation of Ulm. By this arrangement, 33,000 Austrians, including thirteen generals, became prisoners of war. Covered with shame, the once-brave warriors marched before Napoleon, laid down their arms before the victor, placed forty banners at his feet, and delivered up sixty cannon with their horses. When too late, it was seen in Vienna that Mack was not equal to his lofty position, and he was deprived of his honor, his dignities, and the advantages of his office, by a court-martial. Napoleon’s joy at this unexampled good fortune was, however, diminished by the cotemporaneous maritime victory of the English at Trafalgar, which annihilated the whole French fleet, but which also cost the life of the great naval hero, Nelson.

The war-party had gained the upper hand in Prussia since the violation of the neutral territory of Bernadotte. The king renewed the bond of perpetual friendship with the sensitive emperor Alexander, in the church of the garrison at Potsdam, over the coffin of Frederick the Great, at night, and then sent Haugwitz with threatening demands to Napoleon. The French emperor, in the meantime, proceeded along the Danube towards the Austrian states, not without many bloody engagements, of which the battles of Dirnstein and Stein against the Russians under Kutusoff and Bagration were of especial importance. If the French found brave and circumspect opponents in the Russians in these encounters, they had the easier game in Austria. Murat took possession of Vienna without the slightest trouble; and the prince of Auersburg, who had orders either to defend the bridge over the Danube, which was fortified and filled with gunpowder, or to blow it into the air, allowed himself to be so completely deceived by the bold cunning of the French general, and by pretended negotiations of peace, that he surrendered it to the enemy uninjured and undefended. The irresolution of the emperor Francis, and the divisions between the Austrians and Russians, facilitated the victory of the French, who, laden with enormous booty, pursued the Austro-Russian army, in the midst of perpetual engagements, into Moravia. In Moravia, the battle of Austerlitz, in which the three emperors were present, was fought on the day of the year in which the emperor was crowned, December 2d, 1805, and in which the winter sun shone upon the most splendid of Napoleon’s victories. The emperor Francis, wishing for the termination of the war, suffered himself to be persuaded to pay a humble visit to Napoleon in the French camp, and then consented to a truce which stipulated for the retreat of the Russians from the Austrian states. Upon this, negotiations were commenced which terminated in the peace of Presburg.

After the battle of Austerlitz, the Prussian ambassador, Haugwitz, did not venture to convey the charge of his court to the victorious emperor; without asking permission in Berlin, he allowed himself to be induced, partly by threats, and partly by the engaging affability of Napoleon, to subscribe an unfavorable contract, by which Prussia exchanged the Franconian principality of Anspach, some lands on the Lower Rhine, and the principality of Nuremburg in Switzerland, for Hanover. It was in vain that the king resisted the exchange, which threatened to involve him in hostilities with England; separated from Austria by the hasty conclusion of the peace of Presburg, nothing was left to the king but to submit to the dictation of the victor.

The constitution of the German empire was already dissolved by the elevation of the Elector of Bavaria and of the Duke of Wirtemberg into independent monarchs. Napoleon, in consequence, entertained the project of entirely removing the south and west of Germany from the influence of Austria, and of uniting them to himself by the formation of the Confederation of the Rhine. A prospect of enlarging their territories and increasing their power, and fear of the mighty ruler from whose side victory appeared inseparable, induced a great number of princes and estates of the empire to separate themselves from the German empire and join France. Self-interest was more powerful than patriotism. On the 12th of July, the treaty was signed in Paris, by virtue of which Napoleon, as protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, recognized the full sovereignty of the individual members, upon condition of their maintaining a certain contingent of troops ready at the emperor’s disposal. Bavaria, Wirtemberg, Baden, Hesse-Darmstadt, Nassau, and several others, formed the kernel around which the lesser principalities, as Hohenzollern, Liechtenstein, Solms, etc., collected themselves, till at length almost all the German confederate states of the second and third rank gave in their adhesion. The Elector arch-chancellor Dalberg, who had been made prince-primate, and who had received Frankfort, together with Hanau and Fulda, as a principality, was chosen Napoleon’s representative in the Confederation of the Rhine.

The wavering conduct of Prussia had filled Napoleon with the deepest anger, and convinced him that the king would be untrustworthy as a friend, and cowardly and innocuous as an enemy. He accordingly flung aside all respect and forbearance, and purposely inflicted many mortifications on the Prussian government. The irritation produced by this was soon aggravated into a complete rupture.

The French troops under Napoleon and his experienced marshals were in the heart of Thuringia and Saxony, the Elector of which had united himself, after some hesitation, to Prussia. The first engagement at Saalfeld, where the gallant prince Louis found his death, went against the Prussians; but the defeat suffered by the army under the command of the old duke of Brunswick, in the great double battle of Jena and Auerstadt, was terrible and fatal. It decided the fate of the countries between the Rhine and the Elbe. The former presumption of the officers and young nobles was suddenly turned into despondency, and the greatest confusion and helplessness took possession of the leaders. Hohenlohe, with 17,000 men, laid down his arms at Prenzlow; the fortresses of Erfurt, Magdeburg, Spondau, Stettin, etc., surrendered within a few days, with such wonderful celerity, that the commandants of many of them were suspected of treachery, so utterly unaccountable did such cowardice and such entire want of self-reliance appear. Blücher alone saved the honor of Prussia by the bloody combat in and around Lubeck, though he could not prevent the horrible storming of this slightly-fortified town; in Colberg, also, Gneisenau and Schill, supported by the brave citizen, Nettlebeck, courageously resisted the superior force of the enemy. Thirteen days after the battle of Jena, Napoleon marched into Berlin, and issued his mandates from thence. The Elector of Hesse, who wished to remain neutral, and who had withdrawn his forces from the contest, was obliged to surrender both land and army to the enemy, and to seek for protection as a fugitive in a foreign land. He took up his residence in Prague. The duke of Brunswick, who had been severely wounded, and who was carried into his capital on a litter after the battle of Jena, was compelled to seek for refuge in Denmark to die in peace. Jena and East Friesland were united to Holland; the Hanse towns as well as Leipsic, were oppressed by the deprivation of all English wares, and by severe military taxes; and treasures of art and science, and the trophies of former victories, were carried away from all quarters. It was only to the Elector of Saxony, whose troops had fought at Jena, that Napoleon showed any favor. He set the Saxon prisoners at liberty, and granted the Elector a favorable peace; upon which the latter, dignified with the title of king, joined the Confederation of the Rhine, like the other Saxon dukes. From this time, Frederick Augustus, to the misfortune of himself and his people, felt himself bound by the ties of gratitude to the French emperor.

The king of Prussia had fled to Königsberg, where he vainly attempted to obtain peace. Napoleon’s demands rose with his fortunes. In his necessity, Frederick William turned to his friend Alexander, who immediately despatched a Russian army under Benningsen and others into East Prussia, to prevent the French passing the Vistula. Upon this, Napoleon issued a proclamation to the Poles, pretendedly in the name of Kosciusko, by which these misused people were summoned to fight for liberty and independence. The Poles willingly made the greatest sacrifices, and strengthened the ranks of the French by their brave soldiers under the command of Dombrowski. Napoleon marched into Warsaw amidst the rejoicings of the people; but the Poles discovered, only too soon, that the foreign potentate was more intent upon the gratification of his own ambition and love of power, than upon the restoration of their empire. Murderous battles were now fought upon the banks of the Vistula, and torrents of blood shed at Pultusk and Morungen. But the great blow was struck in the battle of Preuss-Eylau, February 8, 1807, when the marshal spirit of the French and Russians gave rise to a contest which in loss of men equals any event of the sort in the world’s history. Both parties claimed the victory, and their efforts and exhaustion were so great, that the war suffered an interruption of four months. During this interval, negotiations were again renewed; but much as the king, who was waiting with his family in Memel, might desire the termination of the war, that he might free his subjects from the dreadful exactions of the French, he was too honest to dissever his own cause from that of his ally. But when the Silesian fortresses on the Oder, Glogau, Brieg, Schweidnitz, and Breslau, fell into the hands of the French by the cowardice of their commandants, and even Dantzic was surrendered to the marshal Lefebvre by the gallant governor Kalkreuth, the king lost all confidence in the successful issue. When, after the recommencement of hostilities, the French gained a brilliant victory over the Russians in the battle of Friedland, on the anniversary of the battle of Marengo, and took possession of the field of Königsberg, the allied monarchs, after a personal interview with Bonaparte on the Niemen, thought it prudent to consent to the peace of Tilsit, oppressive as were the conditions.

Portugal, in consequence of her refusal to close her ports against the English, was occupied by a French army under Junot, who assumed the title of Duke of Abrantes, and proclaimed himself regent in the name of the French Emperor, after the departure of the Portugese royal family for Brazil. In pursuance of his favorite object, the destruction of English commerce, Napoleon not only extended his continental system to Portugal and Italy (as far as the latter country was dependent on France), but even formed a plan for the subjugation of Spain; and under pretense of protecting that country against an English invasion, crossed the Pyrenees at the head of 100,000 men. Charles IV, who a short time before in consequence of an insurrection against his contemptible favorite, Godoy, Prince of the Peace, had resigned his crown in favor of his son, Ferdinand VII, no sooner witnessed the entry of the French into Madrid, than he desired to recall his abdication. Under pretense of settling the dispute, Napoleon invited the whole party to meet him at Bayonne, and having made himself master of their persons, compelled the Bourbon family to resign the Spanish crown, and placed his brother Joseph on the throne. The vacant kingdom of Naples was then conferred on Murat, and the grand-duchy of Berg destined for the Crown Prince of Holland. Against the sovereign thus treacherously imposed on them, the whole Spanish nation rose as one man; and Joseph, after an unsuccessful attempt to conciliate his new subjects by granting them a liberal constitution, was compelled to quit Madrid and retire to Burgos.

An English army, commanded by Sir Arthur Wellesley, landed in Portugal, and drove the French out of that country; the means of returning to France being secured to Junot and his army by the Convention of Cintra. At the same time, another French army, under Dupont, was surrounded and captured in the south of Spain. The French had already fallen back on the Ebro, when Napoleon (to whom the Emperor Alexander, in a personal interview at Erfurt, had promised assistance in the event of a war with Austria) appeared in Spain at the head of 335,000 men.

After a victorious progress from the Ebro, the French Emperor entered Madrid, and immediately abolished the inquisition, the feudal system, and the Council of Castile (which had recalled its consent to the abdication of Charles IV), and reduced the number of convents to one-third. Having, in conjugation with Soult, compelled the English to evacuate Portugal, Napoleon returned to France to make preparations for a fresh war with Austria. On the 21st February, 1809, the fortress of Saragossa which had been twice heroically defended by the Spanish General Palafox, with the loss of 53,000 men, surrendered to the French; and the cause of Spanish independence seemed utterly ruined; for the brilliant victory of Talavera 27th and 28th of July, obtained by Sir Arthur Wellesley over King Joseph, was neutralized by the defeat of an army recently raised by the Junta of Seville, which was almost annihilated by Soult, at Ocano.

The monks, to whose influence King Joseph attributed the general insurrection of the Spanish nation against the French, were punished by the suppression of all the monastic orders. Whilst the French, although perpetually harrassed by swarms of irregular troops, called Guerillas, were still advancing steadily towards the south, the Junta had retired to Seville, and assembled the Cortes (1810), which drew up and proclaimed in (1812), a new constitution, by which the monarchical power was greatly restricted. The repeated attempts of the French, especially under Massena, to regain a footing in Portugal, were as unsuccessful as their attacks on Cadiz, which was strongly fortified and protected by a combined Spanish and English fleet. In the year 1812, the French force in Spain having been reduced to 168,000 men, by the withdrawal of a large number of the best soldiers and generals for the Russian campaign, the whole population of several provinces were encouraged to take the field, and the Guerillas under Mina, the Curate Merino, Mendizabal, etc., became daily more numerous and daring. The fortresses of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz were stormed by Lord Wellington, who spared the armies of Marmont and Soult, defeated the former near Salamanca, compelled Joseph to quit Madrid, and then, on the approach of the French, retreated to the Portuguese frontier. Soult having been recalled from Spain by Napoleon, after his disastrous campaign in Russia, the English general compelled King Joseph a second time to abandon his capital, and retire to the Ebro, and in the year 1813 decided the fate of Spain, by a brilliant victory over Jourdan at Vittoria. Joseph escaped being taken prisoner, by a precipitate flight into France. Soult, who had reëntered Spain by command of Napoleon, was compelled to recross the Pyrenees by Lord Wellington, and the war was terminated by the battle of Toulouse, in April, 1814, the Emperor Napoleon having previously abdicated, and Ferdinand VII being released from his imprisonment at Valencay.

Soon after his coronation, Napoleon had conceived the idea of depriving the Pope of his temporal power, and transporting him to Paris, where the influence of the Sovereign Pontiff might be advantageously employed for the promotion of his own ambitious designs. After a succession of annoyances and threats, Napoleon demanded that the Pope should accede to the continental system, close his ports against the English, and conclude an alliance, offensive and defensive, with France, at least against the Infidels, by which title he designated the Turks and all the Protestant powers. On the refusal of the Pope to entertain this proposal, the Emperor took possession of Rome, and annexed to the kingdom of Italy four provinces belonging to the States of the Church. These measures were speedily followed by the publication of a decree dated from Schönbrunn, in which the temporal authority of the Pope was declared to be at an end; and in the following year 1810 the rest of the States of the Church were incorporated into the French empire. Pius VII, who had excommunicated the the originators and perpetrators of these acts of violence, was carried off by force to Grenoble, and thence removed to Savona, where he remained three years a prisoner, refusing with exemplary firmness to resign his temporal authority, and establish his residence at Paris. In the summer of 1812, he was removed to Fontainebleau, for the purpose of negotiating a fresh concordat, and returned to Rome after the abdication of Napoleon, in 1814.

After the peace of Tilsit, an attempt was made by the Austrian government to reëstablish its political influence in Europe. With this view the army was reörganized; and when Napoleon, in consequence of this movement, called on the members of the Rhenish Confederacy to hold themselves in readiness, the Austrians resolved to anticipate his attack. A proclamation was accordingly issued by the Emperor’s brothers, the Archdukes Charles and John, as commanders-in-chief of the army destined to act in Bavaria and Italy, calling on the German nation to coöperate with Austria in her struggles for the liberty of their common fatherland; but scarcely any effect was produced by this appeal. The army commanded by the Archduke Charles, which had entered Bavaria, was defeated in a series of engagements, which lasted from the 19th to the 23d of April at Abensberg, Landshut, Eckmühl, and Ratisbon, by a force composed almost entirely of Germans, and compelled, after sustaining immense loss, to cross the Danube, and retreat towards Bohemia.

On the 13th of May, Vienna was a second time taken by the French; Napoleon, who had advanced by forced marches for the purpose of preventing the relief of Vienna by the archduke Charles, was defeated on the 21st and 22d of May, near the villages of Aspern and Esling. He then formed a junction with the Italian army under Eugene Beauharnais, a second time crossed the Danube, and defeated the archduke Charles in the sanguinary battle of Wagram, on the 5th and 6th of July. The two armies met again at Znaim, in Moravia, and victory had already begun to incline to the side of the French, when hostilities were suspended by the arrival of Prince Lichtenstein, who was empowered by the Emperor to arrange the terms of an armistice. After this battle, and an unsuccessful attempt of the English to effect a diversion by landing on the island of Walcheren, in Holland, the Austrian war was terminated on the 14th of October by the peace of Vienna. By this treaty Austria lost 2000 square miles of territory, with three and a half millions of inhabitants.

In the hope of obtaining an heir to his throne, and of imparting in some sort, a legitimate character to his dynasty, Napoleon divorced himself from Josephine, and married Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor Francis of Austria. On the 20th of March, 1811, the new Empress was delivered of a son, who was immediately created king of Rome. His brother Louis having declared his readiness to abdicate in favor of his son, rather than ruin Holland by enforcing a rigid observance to the continental system, Napoleon annexed the whole of that country to France. Under the same pretext, and in the face of his own repeated declaration that he wished the Rhine to be the boundary of his dominions, the Emperor incorporated into the French empire the maritime provinces of northern Germany, a great part of the kingdom of Westphalia, the Hanse Towns, the grand duchy of Berg, Oldenburg, and East Friesland: as he had already annexed Tuscany, the States of the Church, and the Canton of Vallais in Switzerland. The empire at this time numbered 130 departments, and extended along the coast of western and southern Europe, from the mouth of the Elbe to the Trieste and Corfu. The imperial government now became every day more absolute: the sittings of the legislative body, which had long since been a mere farce, were suspended: the duties of the senate were confined to the appearance of its members on great occasions in the suite of the Emperor, and the passing of acts confirmatory of his decrees for the annexation of fresh territory.

The conviction that the continental system would be ruinous to her commerce, and that Napoleon would never rest until he had destroyed her influence as a first-rate European power, was soon forced on Russia, which had wrested Finland from Sweden in 1808, and extended her dominions to the Pruth, by the peace of Bucharest, concluded in 1812, after a six years’ war with the Turks. The first coolness between Alexander and Napoleon was occasioned by the annexation of Galicia to the duchy of Warsaw, a measure which was regarded with suspicion by the Russian Emperor, as tending towards the reëstablishment of Poland as a kingdom. Other causes of offense followed in rapid succession; on the one side, Napoleon, who had already annoyed the Emperor by depriving the duke of Oldenburgh, husband of Alexander’s aunt by the mother’s side, of his dominions, now demanded the rigid enforcement of the continental system by Russia; whilst, on the other, the union of Warsaw, as a province, with Saxony, and the evacuation of the Prussian dominions, were strongly urged on France by the Russian government. The refusal of each party to accede to the demands of the other, at length produced a war, which was commenced in 1812 by Napoleon, who collected an army of 400,000, or, according to some writers, 600,000 men, from almost every country in south-western Europe. To oppose this formidable armament, the Russians assembled 372,000 men. With his accustomed rapidity of movement, Napoleon crossed the Nieman into Lithuania, and advanced by forced marches to Smolensk, with scarcely any opposition on the part of the Russians, who were unwilling to hazard a general engagement until they had formed a junction with the troops from the interior. After defeating the Russians at Smolensk, and Borodino, on the Moskwa, Napoleon, on the 14th of September, entered Moscow, which was entirely abandoned by the inhabitants; and soon after his arrival a fire broke out, occasioned probably by the Russian governor Rostopchin, which raged six days, and destroyed nine-tenths of the city. Notwithstanding this calamity, Napoleon lingered five weeks among the ruins of Moscow, endeavoring to negotiate a peace; but discovering his error when it was too late, he broke up his quarters on the 18th of October, and commenced his retreat with an army now reduced to 104,000 men. The winter had already set in with a severity almost unprecedented at that early season, and the whole of the country between Moscow and Beresina, an extent of 150 German miles, presented the appearance of a desert, the inhabitants of the villages having removed or destroyed all their agricultural produce. At length the army, reduced by famine and the unceasing attacks of the Russians and Cossacks to 30,000 men capable of bearing arms, reached the Beresina, where the passage of the river was forced by Ney and Oudinot, with 8,500 men, in the face of 25,000 Russians. The retreat now became a flight, in consequence of the intensity of the cold, and the abandonment of the army by Napoleon, who had placed himself in a sledge, when all was lost, and proceeded to Paris (arrived 18th December,) where his presence was rendered necessary by the unsettled state of public affairs. General Ney, who had distinguished himself in the battle of the Moskwa, and done good service by the masterly manner in which he had conducted the retreat, was created Prince of the Moskwa. The first step towards the emancipation of Prussia, was the conclusion of a convention of neutrality between the Prussian general Diebitsch and general York, who was sent to cover the retreat of the left wing of the French army under Macdonald. This proceeding on the part of the Prussian general was stigmatized by Napoleon as an act of the grossest treachery, and the chief cause of his subsequent misfortunes.

Frederick William III of Prussia, after issuing from Breslau a manifesto, in which he called on his people to rise and defend their liberties against the encroachments of the French, now concluded an alliance with Russia for the reëstablishment of the Prussian monarchy, and having been subsequently joined by Sweden and England, commenced his preparations for the formation of a national militia in Prussia.

In the month of March, the Prussian grand army under Blucher, marched through Silesia to Dresden, where it awaited the arrival of a Russian force commanded by Kalish. A second Russo-Prussian army was also sent from Berlin to join the two other corps. The allied army, under Wittgenstein, now numbered 85,000 men, and that of the French 120,000, most of whom were raw conscripts.

Towards the end of April, Napoleon reäppeared in Germany, and advanced to Leipzic, where he was compelled to engage the enemy at Grossgörschen, or, as he himself named the battle, at Lützen, on the 2d of May: but notwithstanding the disadvantage under which they labored, in being unprepared for the attack, and the heavy loss which they sustained in the battle, the French were victorious; and the allies retreated by way of Dresden into Lusatia. Sharnhorst died at Prague of the wounds which he had received in the battle. Soon afterwards Napoleon appeared at Dresden, and compelled the wavering king of Saxony to place the resources of his kingdom at the disposal of the French. On the 20th of May Napoleon attacked the allies at Bautzen, forced the passage of the Spree, and completed his victory on the following day, at Wurschen, where he sustained a considerable loss in killed and wounded. As the allies directed their retreat towards Silesia instead of Berlin, in order to effect a junction with the Austrians, the conqueror, who wished to prevent a meeting of the three powers, as well as to gain time for fresh levies, consented to an armistice from 4th of June to 10th of August, in the hope that Austria would eventually join the French. A short time previously to these events, the city of Hamburg, which had been abandoned by the French officials on the approach of a Russian army, under Tetterborn, was retaken by Davoust, and mercilessly pillaged, because the inhabitants were unable to pay a forced contribution of 48,000,000 francs.

The congress of Prague having terminated unsatisfactorily, in consequence of the unreasonable demands of Austria, and the unwillingness of England to become a party to a treaty of peace, war was declared by the Austrian government against Napoleon, whose subsequent overtures were treated with contempt. The allies had made the best use of the breathing time allowed them by the armistice. A subsidy of eleven millions, granted by England, enabled them to equip at least 600,000 men, who formed three divisions, viz, 1. The grand army of Bohemia, under Schwarzenberg, in whose camp were the three allied monarchs and General Moreau. 2. The army of Silesia, under Blücher. 3. The army of the North, under the Crown Prince of Sweden, Charles John Bernadotte. Against this enormous force Napoleon brought into the field about 350,000 men; and notwithstanding his inferiority in point of numbers, commenced hostilities with an attack on the army of Silesia, which retreated beyond the Katzbach. Meanwhile, Schwarzenberg had marched upon Dresden, and Napoleon was compelled to proceed by forced marches to that city, leaving General Macdonald in Silesia. On the 26th and 27th of August, Napoleon gained his last victory at Dresden, on German ground, amidst torrents of rain. Moreau was mortally wounded in this battle, and died soon afterwards. This advantage gained by Napoleon, was however almost neutralized by the failure of the other divisions of the French army.

The Silesian and northern armies having crossed the Elbe where Bertrand was defeated by York, near Wartemberg, in order to effect, if possible, a junction with the army of Bohemia in Napoleon’s rear, the French Emperor quitted Dresden, and drew together all his forces at Leipzic, where the great ‘battle of the nations’ was fought on the 16th, 17th, and 18th October. Towards the end of this battle, the Saxons and Würtembergers went over to the allies. On the first day Napoleon engaged the main body of the allies, under Schwarzenberg, on the plain southwards of Leipzic, near Wachau, but without any decisive result; whilst at the same time Blücher defeated Marmont, on the northern part of the city, near Möckern. On the 17th there was no general engagement, Napoleon having communicated to the Emperor of Austria his willingness to purchase peace, by the relinquishment of his sovereignty over Warsaw, Illyria, and the Rhineland, and to withdraw his troops to the other side of the Rhine, as soon as an armistice was concluded. Meanwhile, however, a reinforcement of more than 100,000 men had joined the allied army, which now numbered 300,000, whilst the French had scarcely 130,000. Under these circumstances the battle was renewed on the 18th of October. After losing more than 30,000 men (including Prince Poniatowsky, a nephew of the last King of Poland, who was drowned in the Elster), the defeated army, which still numbered 100,000 men, commenced its retreat, and fought its way to the Rhine, where 70,000 men crossed the river at Mainz. During this retreat, the French were attacked on the Unstrut by York, and at Hanau by the Bavarians, under Wrede, and were incessantly harassed by bands of Cossacks. The immediate consequences of this victory were—​1. The breaking up of the Rhenish confederacy. 2. The dissolution of the kingdom of Westphalia and the grand duchies of Frankfort and Berg. 3. The surrender of all the French garrisons as prisoners of war, with the exception of the garrison of Hamburg, which held out, under Davoust, until the 26th of May, 1814. 4. The re-conquest, by Bülow, of Holland, where the people, who had been more forward than any other nation in their resistance to the continental system, proclaimed the Prince of Orange sovereign of the Netherlands. 5. Denmark, on account of its alliance with Napoleon, was invaded by the crown prince of Sweden, and compelled, after a short winter campaign, to cede Norway to Sweden in exchange for Swedish Pomerania and Rügen. 6. Illyria and the Tyrol were restored to Austria after a long and bloody struggle. In the south, Murat, King of Naples, the Emperor’s brother-in-law, formed an alliance with the Austrians for the expulsion of the French from Italy, the Emperor of Austria undertaking to guarantee to him the undisturbed possession of his dominions. On the other hand, Switzerland, too feeble as yet to throw off the French yoke, concluded a treaty of neutrality with Napoleon, who deemed this the best mode of protecting his weakest frontier.

Wellington, being now prepared to enter France from Spain, and the allied army from the Rhine, Napoleon, who had rejected the offers of peace made to him by the allies, demanded a fresh conscription of 300,000 men, and prorogued the legislative assembly, which had ventured to present him an address describing, in strong language, the misery and exhaustion of France. At the commencement of the year 1814 the allies entered France, the grand army of Schwarzenberg traversing a portion of neutral Switzerland, and crossing the frontier at Basle, whilst the force under the command of Blücher crossed the Rhine, on new year’s eve, at Mannheim, Caub, and Coblenz. In the hope of preventing a junction, Napoleon attacked Blücher near Brienne, and forced him to retreat; but, in spite of this check, the united armies attacked the French at la Rothière, and drove them across the Aube. The two corps then separated, the grand army under Schwarzenberg proceeding along the banks of the Seine, and the army of Silisia along the Main, in the direction of Paris. No sooner was Napoleon aware of this separation, than he several times attacked the army of Silesia, and compelled it to retire northwards, and then defeated the grand army at Montereau. A congress was now held at Chatillon, but without any result except the temporary suspension of hostilities. In order to prevent Napoleon from following the grand army, Blücher continued his march on Paris, and defeated the French near Laon. Then Napoleon attacked the grand army at Arcis-sur-Aube, and being compelled to retire before a superior force, conceived the desperate design of leaving the road to Paris open, attacking the enemy in the rear from Lorraine, and drawing together all the garrisons of the eastern fortresses for a final struggle. With equal courage the allies continued their march towards the capital, and after defeating Marshals Marmont and Mortier, at la Fère Champenoise, and storming the heights of Montmartre, entered Paris, in consequence of a capitulation, on the 31st of March, with the Emperor Alexander, King Frederick William, and Prince Schwarzenberg, at their head. No sooner had the capital fallen, than the senate was persuaded by Talleyrand to declare the throne forfeited by Napoleon and his family, and the nation absolved from its oath of allegiance.

Napoleon, who had reached Paris a few hours too late, signed his abdication on the 11th of April, at Fontainebleau, renouncing for himself and heirs all claims to the throne of France, Italy, or any other country; the allies, on their side, engaging to confer on him the sovereignty of the island of Elba, with a pension of two millions of francs, to grant to his wife the duchies of Parma, Piacenza, and Guastalla, with succession to her son and his desendants, and to provide for his relations.

On the very day of Napoleon’s landing at Elba (14th of May), Louis XVIII entered Paris, replaced the constitution hastily drawn up by the provisional government by another formed on the English model, with two chambers, one of peers and one of deputies, and concluded with the allies the peace of Paris, by which it was settled that the boundaries of France should be the same as they were before the Revolution, with the exception of some unimportant extensions towards the east and north-east.

For the definitive settlement of European affairs, especially as regarded Germany, a Congress was held at Vienna (1st of November, 1814–9th of June, 1815), which was attended by the Emperors of Russia and Austria, the Kings of Prussia, Denmark, and Würtemberg, and several other princes, statesmen, and generals.

A spirit of disaffection had already begun to manifest itself in France, in consequence of the mal-administration of the government, and the insolence of those classes which had enjoyed peculiar privileges before the Revolution. Encouraged by the reports which he received of the prevalence of discontent, especially among the soldiers, and the difficulties in which the Congress of Vienna was involved by the Polish and Saxon questions, Napoleon escaped from Elba, landed with 2000 men at Cannes on the 1st of March 1815, and being joined by all the troops sent to oppose his progress, and by Marshal Ney, entered Paris on the 20th, amidst the acclamations of the people, and immediately established his head quarters at the Tuileries. Meanwhile Louis XVIII had fled to Ghent.

Napoleon, by a proclamation dated from Lyons, had already summoned the electoral colleges of the empire to hold an extraordinary meeting (Champ de Mai) in Paris, for the improvement of the constitution; but the popularity obtained by this apparent concession to the wishes of the people, was in a great measure lost in consequence of these ameliorations being eventually decreed by the emperor himself, without the intervention of a representative body. Notwithstanding repeated attempts on the part of Napoleon to reöpen negotiations with the emperors of Austria and Russia, the Congress of Vienna proclaimed him an outlawed traitor on the 13th of March, renewed their alliance for the restoration of Louis XVIII, and engaged to raise a force, which eventually amounted to 900,000 men. On the other hand, Napoleon was unable to complete the number which he had intended to bring into the field (560,000 men).

Napoleon now determined to commence hostilities by attacking simultaneously the allied troops (English, Dutch, Belgians, Hanoverians, Brunswickers, Nassauers, etc.), which were dispersed through Belgium under the command of Wellington, and the Prussians under Blücher; and thus preventing a junction of the two armies. The Prussian army, which had not yet had time to concentrate itself, was defeated at Ligny; whilst Ney meanwhile marched northwards as far as Quatrebras, for the purpose of preventing the advance of Wellington to relieve the Prussians. Here an indecisive battle was fought, in which Duke William of Brunswick lost his life. Instead of falling back on Namur, as Napoleon had expected, the Prussians now endeavored to effect a junction with Wellington by Wavre. Having dispatched Marshal Grouchy to intercept Blücher, Napoleon attacked Wellington on the 18th of June, at Waterloo, where the English, after bravely fighting throughout the day, were beginning to waver towards evening, when Blücher who had left Thielemann to oppose Grouchy at Wavre, appeared on the field, and, in conjunction with Wellington, completely routed the French army, which fled in disorder, pursued by the Prussians. After a succession of victorious skirmishes, Blücher arrived, on the 22d of June, at Paris, where Napoleon had a second time abdicated, in favor of his son. Napoleon then fled to Rochefort, with the intention of embarking for America; but finding the harbor beset by English cruisers, he surrendered himself to Capt. Maitland, of the Bellerophon, and was conveyed a prisoner to St. Helena, where he died, after nearly six years’ suffering, on the 5th of May, 1821.

Before his return to Paris, Louis XVIII had issued a proclamation from Cambray, granting a free pardon to all who had taken part in the Revolution, with the exception of its chief authors, and constituted a liberal administration under Talleyrand; which, however, was speedily overthrown by the court party, headed by the king’s brother, the Compte d’ Artois. An act was then passed by the ultra-royalist majority in the chambers, excluding from the amnesty, and condemning to perpetual banishment, all who had taken part in the murder of Louis XVI.

Ney was arraigned before the chamber of peers, found guilty of high treason and shot. Louis XVIII having been persuaded to dissolve the chambers, some projects of law, of a more liberal character, respecting elections, liberty of the press and person, etc., were carried through the new chambers by the Duc de Richelieu, who also obtained at the congress of Aix la Chapelle, 1818, the withdrawal of the army of occupation, and a remission of some portion of the debt still due from France to the allies. In return for these concessions Louis XVIII joined the holy alliance.

The ultra-royalists now exerted themselves to obliterate every trace of the Revolution, and reëstablish the privileged classes in all their former splendor; a plan which they pursued with great zeal and success under Charles X. But the indignation of the people was at length excited by the pertinacity with which they endeavored to increase the influence of the priesthood, and by their granting an indemnification to the extent of 1,000,000,000 of francs to the emigrants, whose estates had been confiscated by the revolutionary government.

The ministry persuaded the king to sign the fatal Ordonnances of 25th of July, by which the liberty of the press was suspended, the recently elected chamber dissolved, the number of deputies diminished, and the mode of election altered. This open violation of the constitution produced the Revolution of July, 1830.

Some of the royal troops having joined the revolutionists, and the remainder been driven out of the city after three days’ hard fighting (27th—​29th of July), Charles X abdicated at Rambouillet on the 2d of August, in favor of his grandson, the Duc de Bordeaux. Several unsuccessful attempts had already been made to proclaim a republic: and on the 30th of July the peers and deputies who happened to be resident at Paris, had met and nominated as regent the Duke of Orleans (descendant of a brother of Louis XIV), by whose representations Charles was induced to quit the kingdom, and seek an asylum in Scotland. On the 7th of August, the Duke of Orleans was proclaimed hereditary “King of the French,” by the chambers, and on the 9th swore fidelity to the charter of 1830, in which the sovereignty of the people was fully recognized. The national guard was reëstablished and placed under the command of Lafayette.

The first care of Louis Philippe was to obtain the recognition of his title by foreign powers; an object which was effected without much difficulty, as he founded his claim on his legitimate right to the throne (the elder branch of the Bourbons having abdicated) rather than the choice of the people. But this disavowal of the principle on which he had been chosen king of the French, however satisfactory to foreign cabinets, was exceedingly distasteful to the people, and the cause of serious disturbances. His ministers, who were repeatedly changed, were engaged in a perpetual contest with the Republicans on the one side, and the adherents of the ancient dynasty (Legitimists or Carlists) on the other.

The Carlists or Legitimists, who considered Henry V the Duke of Bordeaux the rightful sovereign of France, had many adherents, especially in la Vendée, where the Duchesse de Berri, who personally exerted herself on behalf of her son, was arrested and banished the country. On the other hand, the Republicans, endeavored to effect the overthrow of the ministry, if not of the throne itself, by means of societies, trades-unions, conspiracies, and émeutes in Paris, Lyons, and other cities. Several attempts were also made to assassinate the king (Fieschi’s infernal machine, Alibaud, Meunier, Hubert, Darmès, Henry). The appearance of Louis Napoleon, a son of the ex-king of Holland, at Strasburg, in 1837, and at Boulogne in 1840, produced no important results. In order to preserve peace with foreign powers, Louis Philippe adopted a system of non-intervention, which he was compelled to violate on several occasions by the clamors of the opposition party.

The manner in which the mediation of France was employed in a dispute between the Pacha of Egypt and the Porte afforded Thiers an opportunity of attacking the foreign policy of the government so fiercely, that the king was obliged to dismiss his advisers, and form a liberal administration (1840), which well nigh involved France in a war with the four great powers, on account of the Eastern question. Louis Philippe then formed a new administration (Soult-Guizot), which directed all its efforts towards the maintenance of peace, and persuaded the chambers to sanction the fortification of Paris.

The attempts of Louis Philippe to render himself independent of the nation, his selfishness with regard to the Spanish marriage, and the closeness of his political connection with the absolute European powers, had rendered it impossible for him to obtain a majority in the chambers, except by bribery; and as this could only be effected as long as the number of electors was limited, he resisted with his usual obstinacy every proposal for the extension of the franchise. This policy disgusted all who looked to a reformed system of election as the only means of improving the administration, and greatly increased the number of the moderate Republican party.

Even the eyes of those who had been slow to credit the corruption of the government, were at last opened by the trial of two ex-ministers, Cubières and Teste, for bribery, and the desire for reform became universal. An order of the government for the suppression of reform dinners, founded, as they pretended, on a law passed at the beginning of the first revolution (1790), and especially an attempt on the part of the police to prevent by force the holding of a reform banquet at Paris, provoked the opposition party, headed by Odillon Barrot, to propose the impeachment of ministers, a motion which was carried in the chamber of deputies after a stormy debate. The national guard and some of the troops of the line having refused to act against the people who had taken up arms on the 22d of February, Louis Philippe dismissed the Guizot ministry on the 23d, and tranquillity seemed to be completely restored; but on the evening of the same day fresh disturbances broke out, in consequence of some troops stationed in front of the foreign office having fired on the unarmed populace. Throughout the whole of that night the inhabitants of Paris were occupied in constructing barricades, and making preparations for active resistance on the morrow. Meanwhile, however, the king, alarmed at the increasing disaffection of his troops, and fearing an attack on the Tuileries, had abdicated in favor of the Comte de Paris, and quitted his palace, which was immediately plundered by the populace.

The Duchess of Orleans, accompanied by her two sons, having proceeded to the chamber of deputies for the purpose of obtaining their recognition of the Comte de Paris as king, and herself as regent, an armed multitude burst into the hall, and compelled the deputies to sanction the establishment of a provisional government, which proclaimed a republic at the Hôtel de Ville, and again on the Place de la Bastille, subject to the approbation of the great body of the people.

The provisional government commenced its proceedings by calling together the electoral colleges and constituent assembly. The elective franchise was extended to all Frenchmen who had attained their twenty-first year, and all above twenty-five years of age were declared eligible as deputies, of whom about 900 were returned to the chamber. The constituent assembly having met on the 4th of May, and the republic having been again proclaimed, the provisional government dissolved itself, and was succeeded by an executive commission composed of five of its members, Arago, Garnier, Pagès, Marie, Lamartine, and Ledru Rollin. The most formidable opponents of these commissioners were the workmen and the leaders of the communists Barbes, Blanqui, Louis Blanc. The revolutionists of February had pronounced it to be the duty of the state to provide employment for the citizens, and had followed up this declaration by the establishment of national workshops, with a view to the ‘organization of labor.’ The failure of this impracticable scheme produced great discontent among the workmen; and after a fruitless attempt on their part to overthrow the government and extort contributions from the wealthier classes, the workshops were closed, and the men sent into the provinces. A sanguinary struggle ensued, in the course of which the Archbishop of Paris was shot, whilst addressing words of peace to the insurgents from one of the barricades. After four days’ hard fighting the malcontents were utterly defeated by General Cavaignac, formerly governor of Algiers. The city of Paris was then declared in a state of siege, and the powers of the executive commission transferred to Cavaignac, who immediately formed an administration, of which he declared himself president. More than 4000 of the insurgents were banished to the French settlements beyond seas, the national workshops suppressed, and the public clubs placed under the surveillance of the police.

By the new Constitution, France was declared to be a democratic republic, one and indivisible. The legislative authority was committed to a single assembly of 750 members, elected by all Frenchmen who had attained their twenty-first year. All citizens above twenty-five years of age were eligible as representatives, with the exception of paid government functionaries. The executive authority was vested in a ‘President of the Republic,’ who was required by the constitution to be thirty years old, and a native of France. Louis Napoleon was chosen for four years, by the direct suffrages of all the electors, on the 10th of December 1848.

Arrived at this hazardous position, he sought to strengthen his hold on the French by reviving, whenever opportunity offered, the most agreeable souvenirs of his uncle’s rule; while, at the same time he incessantly disavowed all ambitious sentiments, and complained of the suspicion of them as an injury. He made a pilgrimage to Ham, and in the neighborhood of his former prison expressed his repentance of the attempts of Strasbourg and Boulogne. Having thus combatted the preparations which a few constitutionalists were inclined to make against a possible coup d’etat, he played with the parliament until December 2d, 1851, in the morning of which day, before sunrise, he swept into prison every statesman of Paris known for public spirit and ability, dissolved the assembly, seized the most distinguished generals, and proclaimed himself dictator. A number of officers who had served in Africa, were sent into the streets with picked regiments, to shoot down remorselessly all who should raise an arm for the constitution; and so, having by the aid of 100,000 soldiers completely subdued the capital, and possessed himself of all power, he offered himself to France for ten years’ election to the office of president. As no other candidate was allowed to come forward he of course was returned, and subsequently proclaimed a constitution, which gave him more power than any European monarch, except the Czar of Russia, pretends to exercise.

A decree was issued October 19th, summoning the Senate to meet on the 4th of November 1852, to consider the question of changing the form of government and reëstablishing the empire.

Prince Jerome Bonaparte presided and opened the session by briefly stating its object. A committee of ten was appointed which subsequently made a report, closing with the draft of a senatus consultum, declaring; ‘The Empire is reëstablished, and Louis Napoleon Bonaparte is Emperor, under the title of Napoleon III.’ Two decrees were immediately issued; the one convoking the French people, in its primary assemblies, to accept or reject the empire; and the second convoking the legislature for the purpose of verifying the regularity of the votes, and of counting them out and declaring the result. On the 1st of December, the vote was reported to be 7,864,189 for the empire, and 253,145 against it; 63,000 votes were canceled as illegal. There was no hesitation on the part of foreign powers to acknowledge the empire.

In March 1854, England and France announced to the world their intention of aiding Turkey in her struggle with Russia. The Queen’s declaration of war appeared in the Gazette on the 28th, and on the preceding day, at Paris, the Minister of State read to the legislative corps a Message from the Emperor, announcing ‘that the last resolution of the cabinet of St Petersburg had placed Russia in a state of war with respect to France—​a war, the responsibility of which belonged entirely to the Russian government.’ The military operations of the commencement of this war have been described in the preceding pages. [See History of England—​Reign of Victoria.]

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About the opening of the fifth century, when Alaric, the terrible king of the Visigoths, had sacked and burned the City of the Seven Hills, his brother, Adolph, crossing the Pyrenees, penetrated into Spain, and founded, in that secluded province of the Roman Empire, a kingdom, of which the capital was Toledo—​situated on a steep rock, which was washed on three sides by the waters of the Tagus.

The Gothic monarchy, thus established, lasted for three centuries, when Roderick, who wore the crown of Spain, ravished the daughter of a Count named Julian, and thus created an implacable foe. Boiling with resentment, and panting for vengeance, Count Julian crossed to Barbary, and invoked the aid of the adventurous Moors; and forthwith the sound of Moorish horns, and the neighing of war-steeds, and the waving of the Crescent, announced that a Saracenic host had invaded the sunny fields of Spain.

King Roderick encountered the Moors in several battles; and at length, in the summer of 711, a decisive conflict took place at Xeres. There the king and the flower of his chivalry perished; and the cities quietly yielding to the turbaned victors, a splendid Moorish monarchy was instituted under princes of the line of Omeyades. They exercised a temporal as well as spiritual authority, selected Cordova as their seat of empire, and adorned that city with magnificent palaces, colleges, libraries, hospitals, mosques, bridges, and fountains.

The vanquished Spaniards, so far from being harshly treated, enjoyed so much civil and religious liberty, that many remained in their native regions; and the Spanish women freely availed themselves of the invitation to intermarry with the conquerors. Such of the proud barons, indeed, as disdained to submit, escaped to neighboring countries; while others, departing from Andalusia, with its sunny skies and fair landscapes, moved northward, and formed themselves into petty states, at such mortal enmity with each other, and so exposed to the predatory incursions of the Arab cavalry, that the chieftains were under the necessity of keeping their followers in harness night and day.

Notwithstanding their internal feuds, the eyes of the Spaniards were perpetually turned, with the longing of exiles, toward the land of corn and wine of which they had been dispossessed; and they contemplated, with fierce indignation, the Crescent glittering on mosques under which their sires had worshiped the Christian’s God. Invoking as their patron St. James, on his white steed, bearing the banner of the Cross, they deemed themselves the champions at once of their country and Christendom; and the Spanish nobles, thus trained from infancy to serve against the Moors, were continually advancing southward, and in the stern school of adversity regained among the mountains of Gallicia so much of their ancestral valor as to render them formidable foes.

In the thirteenth century the Cordovan empire had been reduced to the little province of Granada, in the midst of which stood the beautiful city of that name, on one of whose hills rose the far-famed Alhambra; while the kingdom of Castile was not only receiving the homage of other states, but even the homage of the Moorish king, who pledged himself to pay an annual rent, to serve in war with a certain number of knights, and to attend the Cortes, or legislative assembly, when summoned.

A hundred years later, Castile was the scene of fierce civil war. Pedro, surnamed the Cruel, had rendered himself unpopular by the severity with which he treated his enemies; and his illegitimate brother, Henry of Trastamare, conceived the idea of seizing the throne. With this view, he applied to Charles V of France, who sent to his aid several companies of Free Lances, commanded by Bertrand Du Guesclin, one of the most valiant warriors of the age. These terrible adventurers, after passing Avignon, and compelling the Pope to bestow upon them gold and his blessing, entered Spain. Pedro disbanded his troops and sought shelter in Gascony, at the court of Edward the Black Prince, by whom he was honorably received; while his rival was proclaimed king in his stead.

Henry of Trastamare transmitted the crown of Castile to his descendants, whose disputed title was decidedly favorable to public liberty, and rendered them deferential to public opinion, till the reign of Henry IV, who ascended the Castilian throne with the promise of a crusade against the Moors of Granada. The preparations made by him for that purpose were attended by results so inadequate, that he fell into contempt with friends and foes.

In the year 1465, on a plain outside the walls of Avila, a platform was erected; and thereon was placed, in royal robes, an effigy of Henry, with the crown on his head, the sceptre in his hand, and the sword of justice by his side. A sentence of deposition was pronounced: the archbishop of Toledo tore off the crown; one Count snatched away the sword; another removed the sceptre; a third tumbled the figure headlong to the ground; and proclamation was made that Don Alphonso was king of Castile and Leon. But Alphonso died in 1468; and Henry, though reduced to the depths of despair, continued to reign till his decease in 1474.

His daughter Joanna not being considered worthy of occupying the throne, his sister Isabella was recognized as heir to the deceased sovereign. The young queen, one of the most interesting characters in history, was highly endowed both in mind and person. Intelligence beamed in her mild blue eye, and was displayed in a manner which, though modest, was particularly gracious and dignified. In her nineteenth year she had been united to Ferdinand, the hereditary sovereign of Arragon, in conjunction with whom she now began to reign over the united kingdoms. They were not, however, undisturbed; for Alphonso, king of Portugal, whose victories over the Barbary Moors had gained for him the cognomen of ‘the African,’ having been affianced to the princess Joanna, invaded Castile to vindicate her claim to the crown. Ferdinand, by a herald, challenged the invader to fight with his whole army or by single combat, and the hostile ranks encountered. Castilian valor prevailed; the standard of Portugal was torn to shreds; the king escaped to a fortified castle, and soon after he withdrew with his youthful bride into Portugal; but the Pope having forbidden their marriage, the hapless princess sought consolation in a convent.

Ferdinand and Isabella, being now secure, introduced several important reforms for the observance of law, the administration of justice, and the regulation of trade. The Moorish kingdom of Granada was so tempting a prize, that they determined on annexing it to their dominions. Hitherto the two nations, in spite of their natural enmity, had enjoyed much, and not unimportant, friendly intercourse. The Spaniards had acquired something of Arabian gravity of demeanor, magnificence of air, and reserve in conversation, from communicating with their Saracenic neighbors. As late as 1463, Henry had held a personal interview with the king of Granada, under a splendid pavilion erected in the vega, at the foot of the Alhambra, and after an exchange of presents, the Spanish sovereign had been escorted to the frontiers by Moorish cavaliers; but in 1476, when the annual tribute was demanded, the Moorish king proudly replied, that the mints of Granada coined gold no longer, but steel; and he soon after attacked and carried off the population of the town of Zahara. At this crisis the high-spirited Moor died, and was succeeded by his nephew, the weak and unfortunate Boabdil. Thereupon Ferdinand, entering Granada with the whole force of Arragon and Castile, besieged the city for eight months. The Moorish king then came to the gates, and presenting the keys on a cushion to Ferdinand and Isabella, implored their protection. The valley of Piorchena was assigned him as a residence; but being discontented with his lot, he after a little delay went over to Barbary. On Friday, the 6th of January, 1492, Ferdinand and his queen made their entrance into Granada; the Moslem crescents were plucked from the minarets of the Alhambra, and the arms of Castile and Arragon were displayed in their stead.

The conquest of Granada made Ferdinand master of the fairest province in the Peninsula; and, assuming the title of King of Spain, he recovered from France the districts of which Louis the Crafty had taken possession. He then established the Court of Inquisition, which consigned thousands of his subjects to the flames for heresy, and was put in force against the Jews, who fled by thousands, with their industry and intelligence, to the other states of Europe. For these services, Ferdinand and Isabella were rewarded by the Pope with the title of Catholic Majesties.

About this time Christopher Columbus received from the court of Spain the encouragement which led to discoveries so important. A native of Genoa, he had unsuccessfully applied to the Government of that state for aid in his daring project of sailing to the East Indies by the west, and then made proposals to the Kings of England and Portugal, which were rejected. In 1486 he came to urge his schemes upon the sovereigns of Spain; but after six years of fruitless entreaty, was on the point of leaving the country, when Isabella, at the instance of her confessor, summoned the suitor to her presence. At this interview, the solemn aspect, grave air, and dignified appearance of Columbus, made so favorable an impression on the Queen that she ordered a fleet of three vessels to be fitted out at Palos. At that port, with a hundred and twenty companions, Columbus embarked on the 3d of August, 1492; and on the 12th of October, after thirty days’ sail from Canary, came in sight of land, which proved to be one of the Bahama Islands. When the sun rose, the adventurers, manning their boats, rowed ashore, playing martial music, and displaying the royal standard. Columbus, in a scarlet dress, and bearing a naked sword, set his foot on the soil of the new world, and after taking possession of the island on behalf of the Castilian sovereigns, gave it the name of San Salvador. The natives gazed on in silent surprise, and in the simplicity of their hearts believed the Spaniards to be preternatural beings.

Pursuing his career of discovery, Columbus took possession of Cuba and St. Domingo, and then returned in triumph to Spain. At Barcelona he was received by Ferdinand and Isabella with the utmost favor, and desired to sit covered, like a grandee of the realm. A fleet of seventeen ships was fitted out, and he undertook a second voyage, which ended in disappointment; but during a third, on the 1st of August, 1498, he discovered the continent of America, and carried six of the natives to St. Domingo, as evidence of his success. But the great navigator was doomed to humiliating reverses: his enemies prevailed at Madrid; he was displaced from his offices, and sent home in chains. Being set at liberty on arrival, he undertook a fourth expedition, from which, after being shipwrecked on the island of Jamaica, he arrived in Spain in 1505; but Isabella having meantime died, he was allowed by Ferdinand to drag out his career in obscurity at Valladolid.

Ferdinand, after taking an important part in the Italian wars, where his general, Gonsalvo de Cordova, the Great Captain, signalized his military skill against the French, died in 1516, and an Austrian prince ascended the Spanish throne.

Mary of Burgundy, daughter and heiress of that fiery Duke who fell fighting against the Swiss, became wife of Maximilian, afterward Emperor of Germany. In the month of February, 1482, that noble lady was holding her court in the city of Bruges, in Flanders, then a great commercial emporium of Europe; and, mounting her palfrey one day, she rode forth, with a small retinue, to fly her hawks at the herons, which abounded in the vicinity. While pursuing the sport and leaping a fence, the girths of her saddle burst, and she was thrown violently against a tree. Dying from the effects of the accident, Mary left a son, named Philip, who espoused Ferdinand’s daughter, Jane the Foolish, and had a son Charles, born at Ghent in 1500. On the demise of Isabella, Jane, as her daughter, became Queen of Castile; but immediately after, the sudden death of Philip bereft his young widow of her reason. Her case was hopeless; and on Ferdinand’s death, young Charles of Austria was associated with his insane mother on the Spanish throne, while the aged Cardinal Ximenes, a consummate statesman, grasped the reins of government with vigor and dexterity. Three years later, on the death of his grandfather Maximilian, the ambitious King of Spain was elected Emperor of Germany; and thus becoming the most powerful monarch in Europe, he commenced that long and arduous struggle with Francis I of France, which has been previously sketched.

At the time when Charles received the imperial crown there was residing on the island of Cuba a Spaniard, named Hernando Cortez, the scion of an ancient and honorable family. He had left the mother country at nineteen, became proprietor of a flourishing plantation, married a young woman of beauty and excellence, and acquired high favor with Velasquez, governor of the colony. Yet, though apparently destined to a prosperous and peaceful career, so adventurous was the spirit of Cortez, that he sought and obtained the command of a squadron which the governor was fitting out for a voyage of discovery to the American continent. Dreading the bold and ambitious nature of Cortez, the governor recalled this promise, and appointed another as captain; but Cortez got under way in the night, with the ships half-stored and equipped, and sailed from Cuba, never more to return. Arriving in the river Tabasco, he landed in spite of a desperate resistance, made the natives swear allegiance to the King of Spain, caused mass to be celebrated in the principal temples, formed an alliance with the Tlascalans, a warlike Indian tribe, and rolled the tide of conquest toward the capital of Mexico.

Montezuma, the Mexican Emperor, received the strangers with veneration, swore fealty to Spain, placed himself in the custody of Cortez, and assigned a temple as a Christian place of worship. This last concession was too much for his heathen subjects, who, instigated by their priests, declared that the Spaniards must perish on the altars they had violated. Cortez was preparing for a fierce struggle, when informed that a fleet had anchored off the coast, commanded by Narvaez, commissioned by the Governor of Cuba to supersede him. Aware that his only chance lay in a sudden stroke, Cortez, with seventy picked men, set out for the camp of Narvaez, and after arresting his rival in a dark night, allured the soldiers to his standard, and returned to the capital. There the fury of the Mexicans had become so great, that Montezuma in vain attempted to allay the storm; and mortified at his loss of authority, the Emperor expired, while the streets were thronged with countless multitudes, who for successive days besieged the palace where the Spaniards were lodged.

In this terrible situation, Cortez resolved to cut his way to the territory of his Tlascalan allies; and on a July night, after hearing mass, he led his followers from their quarters in the centre of the city. After a bloody fight on the causeway he effected an escape, and reached the open country; but there his little army was suddenly attacked by an overwhelming force. The position of the Spaniards seemed desperate, when Cortez, ever cool and courageous, suddenly penetrated to where the enemy’s banner was displayed, killed with his own hand the Mexican general, and instantly changed the fortune of the day. Resting from his fatigues till the autumn, he returned to the capital, where Gautemozin now reigned as Emperor, and commenced warlike operations. But in May, 1521, Cortez, hopeless of otherwise accomplishing his object, took the terrible resolution of destroying every house as he advanced. Burning palaces and temples, he gradually made his way into the market-place, and then reluctantly gave orders for a general assault. The battle, which lasted for two days, was decisive: the youthful Emperor, being taken in a canoe, was executed: and the independence of Mexico was extinguished.

Soon after the conquest of Mexico, Francis Pizarro, landing in Peru with a formidable force, subdued that large, powerful, and flourishing empire, compelled the Peruvians to work the mines for their advantage, and added the conquered territory to the possessions of the Spanish crown.

While his gallant subjects, stimulated by the desire of wealth, were winning for Charles an empire on which the sun never set, war was carried on in Europe; and his great rival, Francis, taken at Pavia, was lying at his mercy in Madrid. But though the might of the Emperor overshadowed the princes of Europe, the Spaniards, regarding him as a stranger and foreigner, revolted in defense of their political rights; the civil wars of the Communeros were the consequence; and Charles, having excluded the grandees from the representation, succeeded in withering by his despotism the free spirit that had long animated the ancient institutions of Castile and Arragon.

While the religious reformation was agitating the other states of Europe, the Spanish nation remained unmoved by the shock, and out of it came Ignatius Loyola, destined not only to rescue the imperiled Papacy, but to breathe new life into the expiring system by which Rome had for centuries held the human intellect in sacerdotal bondage.

Eight years after his rival Francis had gone to the grave, Charles, in 1556, abdicated the Spanish throne in favor of his son Philip, and a few months later, weary of war and disgusted with grandeur, he resigned the imperial crown to his brother Ferdinand, and retired to indulge his melancholy mood in the monastery of St. Just, on the frontiers of Castile. While there he is reported to have enacted no less extraordinary a scene than the celebration of his own funeral obsequies. After causing a tomb to be erected in the chapel, and making his attendants walk thither in procession, the ex-Emperor followed in his shroud, and was laid in his coffin. The monks then chanted the service for the dead, prayed for the repose of his soul, and shed tears for his departure. This singular ceremony is said to have thrown Charles into a fever, of which he expired in his fifty-ninth year.

Philip II, inherited one of the wealthiest and most magnificent empires on which the sun ever shone, and he sought to increase his hereditary influence by espousing Mary, queen of England, who loved him with the utmost tenderness. But, notwithstanding her displays of affection, Philip, tiring of the society of a spouse so destitute of attractions, and indignant that her subjects would not allow England to be made a fief of Spain, escaped to his Continental dominions. However, when the Pope, jealous of the King’s enormous power, formed an alliance with Henry II of France, to detach Milan and the Sicilies from the crown of Spain, Philip considered it expedient to feign some esteem for his Queen, and paying her a visit at Greenwich, obtained the aid of England in his struggle. His army was victorious over the French, led by the Constable Montmorency, at St Quentin; and at Gravelines the Count Egmont vanquished the old Marshal Thermes; after which the King of France, by the Treaty of Cambresis, surrendered to Spain eighty-nine fortified towns in Italy and the Low Countries.

Philip was destined to deal with a sovereign infinitely less accommodating: for, ere the treaty of peace was signed, Queen Mary had breathed her last, and been succeeded on the English throne by a princess whose policy baffled his schemes, and whose courage defied his vengeance. After in vain soliciting the coveted hand of Elizabeth, Philip wedded a daughter of Catherine de Medici; and becoming disquieted on the score of religion, he resolved to gratify his natural bigotry by extirpating from his dominions every species of heresy. He began with the Netherlands, where the Reformed doctrines had made considerable progress, and established the Inquisition with plenary power; but this alienated the hearts of the inhabitants, who, choosing as their leader William of Orange, a Count of the Empire, bravely resisted the power of Spain. Philip proscribed, and set a price on the head of, the Prince of Orange, who was soon assassinated; but his son, Maurice, appeared as his successor, and, with the aid of Queen Elizabeth, ere long secured the independence of the United Provinces.

Philip, exasperated by the assistance which the English Queen had afforded to the revolted Netherlands, having meantime seized on Portugal, commenced fitting out the Invincible Armada for the invasion of England; and preparations were in full progress when suddenly Sir Francis Drake made a dash at Cadiz, and after destroying thirty vessels, scoured the Spanish coast, burning and shattering many castles and ships. The King’s naval operations were thus delayed till May, 1588, when the Armada, consisting of a hundred and thirty sail, left the Tagus under the command of the Duke of Medina, who hoped to steer through the Channel to Flanders, and form a junction with the Duke of Parma. But being attacked by the English Admiral, and after several engagements driven toward Orkney, the fleet was so effectually scattered by a tempest, that the Duke returned to Spain with not more than sixty shattered vessels.

In 1596, war being formally declared, the Spaniards seized Calais, with other walled towns; and in alarm Queen Elizabeth dispatched a fleet to Cadiz, under the young and accomplished Earl of Essex. Landing in spite of the fire from the forts and battlements, the English forced the town to capitulate, made the inhabitants pay for their lives, razed the fortifications, and burned the houses. In revenge, Philip sent ships to threaten the English coast, though without any success; and at length, satiated with the blood which had been shed in promotion of his various ambitious designs, he signed the Peace of Vervins. On the eve of the battle of St. Quentin, Philip vowed, in the event of victory, to build, in honor of St. Lawrence, a church, a monastery and a palace, and in fulfillment of this vow, he erected near Madrid the magnificent palace of the Escurial, which contained the residence and mausoleum of the sovereigns of Spain. Expiring in 1598, he was laid in the cemetry which he had formed beneath the pavement of the church; and his son, Philip III, ascended the throne.

From that period Spain declined in power and importance, though her empire was long, to outward appearance, great and magnificent. The new king, who was not less bigoted than his gloomy sire, prosecuted the war against the United Provinces, but, in 1609, was forced to conclude a treaty at the Hague, which secured civil and religious freedom to the new republic, and restored the confiscated estates of the house of Orange. Yet, untaught by experience, and under the inspiration of his minister, the Duke of Lerma, he issued an edict, ordering the Morescoes, or descendants of the Moors, to leave the kingdom within thirty days, and thus farther enfeebled a state which war and emigration had previously deprived of so many energetic and industrious inhabitants. The Morescoes had been conspicuous for their skill and ingenuity in arts and manufactures, and this depopulation produced a most baneful effect.

Philip IV succeeded, on his father’s decease, to an empire more extensive indeed than the realms of the Grand Monarch, but corrupt in all its parts, and in a state of hopeless prostration. The result soon appeared. Brazil was taken by the Dutch; Catalonia revolted to France; and to suppress the rebellion, the Portuguese were intrusted with arms. The latter turning against their oppressive governors, placed the Duke of Braganza on the throne; and Philip was one of the last personages in Europe who heard of the important event. Shut up in the recesses of the Escurial, he was indulging in licentious dissipation, when one day his able and artful minister, Olivarez, craved an audience. ‘I bring,’ said he, ‘good news to your majesty. The Duke of Braganza’s whole fortune is yours. He has presumptuously got himself declared King of Portugal, and, consequently, you are entitled to the forfeiture of all his estates.’ Philip, lost in luxurious enjoyment, only replied, ‘Let the sequestration be ordered.’ And Portugal was lost to him beyond the hope of recovery.

A war which broke out with France was terminated, in 1659, by the Peace of the Pyrenees, which was negotiated by the crafty Mazarin; and by this treaty it was stipulated that Louis XIV should espouse the King’s eldest daughter, she renouncing all claim to the succession.

In 1665, Philip expired, and his son Charles succeeded. The kingdom was in a deplorable state, and its ruler a prey to listless melancholy and extravagant superstitions; so the Kings of France and England, seeing that Charles had no heirs, and that his days were numbered, agreed to a treaty of partition. This roused the languishing monarch into temporary indignation, which Louis, though the chief offender, succeeded in turning entirely against the other powers. Thus it happened, that while the Spanish ambassador was so insolent in his remonstrances at the court of St. James, that William commanded him to leave England, Charles, in making a destination of his territories by will, after numerous consultations with the Pope, the Spanish Universities, and his own Council, nominated as his heir Philip, duke of Anjou, second son of the Dauphin of France, and grandson of Louis. Having thus laid the foundation of a memorable war, Charles died on the 3d of November, 1700.

When it was publicly announced that the kingdom of Spain had been bequeathed to the Duke of Anjou, Louis, with an unscrupulous disregard of the obligations he had incurred by treaties, acknowledged his grandson as Philip V, and rejoiced in the thought of all the rich possessions of the crown of Spain being transferred to the house of Bourbon. Philip hastened to take possession of the magnificent legacy; his brothers accompanied him to the frontier; and Louis made use of the vain, but significant words—​‘The Pyrenees exist no longer.’

Ferdinand V, a prince of a mild and pacific disposition, succeeded his father in 1746, and gave much encouragement to arts, commerce and manufactures; but the death of his Queen overwhelmed him in such grief that he died in 1759. His brother Don Carlos, ascending the throne with the title of Charles III, was induced to sign, with France, that family compact which stipulated for reciprocal aid between the different branches of the Bourbons, and denounced as the enemy of all, any power that might hereafter be at war with one.

Ferdinand and his subjects had soon cause to repent of this temerity; for the Seven Years’ War began, and the arms of England were signally triumphant. Havana was taken by the English in 1762, and Spain suffered enormous losses, till the Treaty of Fontainebleau put an end to the war, and restored her possessions.

Charles was once more drawn into war with England; and in 1779 commenced that siege of Gibraltar, which for two years was persisted in without effect. At length, in 1782, when the defense had been intrusted to General Elliot, a grand attack was resolved upon, and King Charles inquired every morning on waking, ‘Is it taken?’ On the 13th of September a mighty effort was made; a French engineer had constructed floating batteries which he said could neither be sunk nor set on fire; and four hundred pieces of the heaviest artillery were brought to bear on the fortress. But the red-hot balls fired by the garrison were irresistible in their effect; the hostile batteries were destroyed, the ships sunk, and most of the besiegers with them. Elliot, for his gallant and memorable defense, was ennobled, with the title of Lord Heathfield, and peace was concluded next year.

Soon after this failure, King Charles made an attempt to reform the dress and manners of his subjects, and carried his measures to so imprudent a length, that an insurrection occurred at Madrid, and he was under the necessity of dismissing his favorite minister, Squillace. The earthly career of Charles closed in 1788, and he was succeeded by his son, Charles IV.

When, in 1793, a confederacy was formed against the French Republic, Charles joined in the league; but a French army being sent into Spain, he changed sides, and was soon inspired with a high admiration of the Emperor Napoleon. His subjects being still animated by their ancient hatred toward England, Charles was not averse to minister to Napoleon’s ambition, and in 1805 they declared war in concert; but their united fleets were destroyed in the great battle of Trafalgar.

Still it was in Bonaparte’s power to exercise a sovereign influence over Spain, without infringing on that national spirit which, a century earlier, had resisted the allies of the House of Austria; till the dissensions in the royal family stimulated his ambition. Charles, a feeble prince, entirely under the influence of Godoy, the Queen’s favorite, had fallen into contempt. His son, Ferdinand, was the idol of the nation; and Napoleon was entreated to arbitrate in regard to their differences. He seized the occasion to send an army across the Pyrenees under Murat, who suddenly took possession of Barcelona and several strongholds. Soon after, Napoleon demanded a surrender of the provinces on the left bank of the Ebro. Charles and his spouse were dumb with surprise; Godoy advised the King and Queen to embark for their American dominions; and preparations were made with that view. But their son, Ferdinand, opposing the step, summoned the populace, raised an insurrection, in which the royal troops took part, caused Godoy to be arrested, kept the King prisoner, and after procuring an abdication in his own favor, entered Madrid in haughty triumph as Sovereign of Spain.

Brief was his ovation; for on the following day Murat marched his army into the capital, and Charles protested against his compulsory abdication; but though Murat refused to acknowledge the royalty of Ferdinand, he administered no comfort to Charles—​‘Napoleon alone,’ he said ‘can decide between the father and the son.’

What that meant was ere long beyond all doubt; for the Emperor going to Bayonne, summoned thither the King as well as his undutiful heir. He then decided the matter by making Charles abdicate in his own favor, by imprisoning Ferdinand in the Château of Valencay, and by assigning that of Compiègne as a residence for the deposed monarch.

Murat, meanwhile, retained possession of Madrid; and, under French influence, the Council of Castile demanded as King the Emperor’s eldest brother, Joseph. The latter, resigning the crown of Naples to Murat, hastened to Bayonne, where he was acknowledged as sovereign of Spain by various deputations. But, ere his entry into Madrid, the Spanish peasantry had indignantly taken up arms; the clergy had inflamed their enthusiasm by representing Napoleon as Antichrist; the royal troops joined the insurgents; a cry of vengeance arose throughout the land; and at Cadiz the French fleet was seized and the crew slaughtered. The victory of Bessières opened the gates of Madrid to King Joseph; who, however, was fain, when Dupont capitulated at Bayleu, to leave the city within a week of his triumphant entry; and he soon possessed in all Spain no more than Navarre, Biscay, and Barcelona.

Ambitious of subjugating Spain, the Emperor summoned thither his still unconquered legions, and placing himself at their head, was victorious in three engagements. Entering Madrid, he tempted the inhabitants with promises of franchises and the abolition of feudalism; but their ears were closed against all offers.

The Spaniards were resolutely rising in organized bands, and the English army was approaching, when the news arrived that Austria had formed a new coalition with England. Bonaparte withdrew to the Rhine, while the Spaniards hailed their ancient enemies as deliverers, and the English defeated King Joseph in the battle of Talavera. The victory of Wellington over Marmont at Salamanca, in 1812, and that over King Joseph at Vittoria, in 1813, brought the English to the Pyrenees; and Spain was irreclaimably lost to the Empire of the French.

Emerging from his prison at Valencay, Ferdinand VII returned to take possession of his ancestral throne; but the princes of restored dynasties are the most infatuated of beings, and the new King of Spain did not escape the general doom. Instead of granting liberal institutions, he, at the instigation of the priests, reëstablished the hateful Inquisition, and practiced his tyrannies so ruthlessly, that, in 1820, the endurance of his subjects was at an end. Riego, rising in arms, proclaimed the Constitution which the Cortes had adopted in 1812; and, though he was unsuccessful, the greater part of the nation rose. The army joined the insurgents, and, though Ferdinand announced his intention of convening the Cortes and granting reforms, his offers were despised. The populace thronged and clamored around his palace; and the wretched King was fain to proclaim the Constitution.

At that time, the Congress of Verona convoked to consider the affairs of Greece, found the Spanish revolution a much more exciting topic; a French army on the frontier was ready to aid Ferdinand, but the Duke of Wellington, as representative of England, objected to intervention. Nevertheless, in 1823, the troops, under the Duke of Angoulême, crossed the Pyrenees, and entered Madrid. Ferdinand, who had previously been deposed by the Cortes, on being restored by French arms annulled every act of the Constitutional Government, and Riego was hanged on a very high gibbet, without being permitted to address the people.

In 1833, Ferdinand, from indulging to excess in eating, died of apoplexy, having previously nominated his Queen as Regent during the minority of her daughter, Isabella II, then three years of age. The new reign began with civil strife, for Don Carlos, uncle of the youthful sovereign, aspired to the crown, and on his return from exile the Carlist war for years desolated the unfortunate country.

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The Empire of the West, which Charlemagne had constructed at so much cost of blood and treasure, fell to pieces after he had gone to the grave; and the crown of Germany, being separated from that of the Frankish monarchy, was worn by one branch of the Carlovingian race, while the members of another were enacting the part, without exercising the authority, of kings on the banks of the Seine. But in 911, the various princes of Germany, assuming an attitude of independence, elected Conrad of Franconia to the Imperial throne; and he, after a reign rendered troublous by the inroads of the Hungarians, was succeeded by Henry of Saxony, surnamed the Fowler.

Previous to the time of Charlemagne, the Germans considered it indicative of servitude to live in cities, and argued that even the fiercest animals lost their courage when confined. The prejudice had gradually worn away; and Henry, in order to resist the Hungarian horsemen, induced his subjects to build towns, surrounded them with ramparts, fortified them with towers, and enjoined a certain number of his nobles, albeit their favorite occupation was hunting, to reside within the walls.

Otho the Great, son of Henry, becoming emperor in 938, checked the indefatigable Hungarians, rendered Bohemia tributary to the Imperial crown, forced the Danes to receive baptism, and, on the invitation of the pope, marched to settle the affairs of Italy. At Rome he was crowned emperor, dignified with the title of Cæsar Augustus, and invested with the right of nominating the pope.

The son and grandson of Otho having successively enjoyed the Imperial dignity, it was, on the decease of the latter, conferred on his nephew, Henry of Bavaria, who asserted by arms his claim to the sovereignty of Italy.

Conrad II, duke of Bavaria, or the Salic, next enjoyed the crown, and rendered fiefs hereditary. By his wife, Gisella of Swabia, he had a son, who succeeded him, in the person of Henry III, surnamed the Black; and he, being a prince of spirit and ability, vindicated his right to create popes, nominated three in succession, and departing this life in 1056, left an infant son of his own name, under the care of his widow, Agnes of Guienne.

Henry IV succeeded to the Imperial throne on the eve of a great and momentous struggle, to which he was sacrificed from his youth upward. Being carried off from his widowed mother and intrusted to intriguing prelates, his young mind was deliberately corrupted; and he was encouraged to indulge in vicious courses. He was then commanded by pope Alexander to appear before the tribunal of the Holy See, and answer for his debaucheries. Henry treated this mandate with contempt; but soon after, Alexander died, and the papal throne was ascended by Hildebrand, one of the most remarkable men Europe ever saw.

Hildebrand, the son of a carpenter in a little town of Tuscany, had risen to be prior of Clugny, and in that capacity had become conspicuous for austerity and self-denial. On the nomination of Leo IX to the papal chair, he had pursuaded that pious prelate that an emperor had no right to create a pope, and even prevailed on Leo’s successor to confer on the College of cardinals the exclusive right of voting at papal elections. For his services to the church, Hildebrand had successively been appointed cardinal and chancellor of the Holy See; and in 1073, he was elected as pope by the Sacred College. But before assuming the tiara, he obtained the youthful emperor’s assent, and then assuming the title of Gregory VII, he prepared to throw off his mask, and execute his mission of ‘pulling down the pride of kings.’

Meantime the Saxon subjects of the emperor, on the verge of revolt, sent deputies to demand an audience of him, and explain their grievances. The deputies found Henry engaged with a game of hazard, and he contemptuously bade them to wait till it was finished. The Saxons indignantly rose in arms under Otho of Nordhim, and in a few hours the emperor was a fugitive. A Diet, or Assembly of the States, was held to depose him, and bestow the crown on Rodolph of Swabia; but a display of excessive loyalty on the part of the citizens of Worms caused the dissolution of the Diet, and Henry, panting for vengeance, led, in the depth of a severe winter, his gallant army to the Saxon frontier. There, however, he found the insurgent forces of Otho so much superior to his own, that he was under the necessity of capitulating; but at this point, the great feudatories of the empire taking up his quarrel, Henry, with the whole strength of Germany, encountered the rebellious Saxons on the banks of the Unstrut, and, at a fearful cost of life, gained a bloody victory.

Meanwhile, Gregory, having enacted a law forbidding priests to marry, and another precluding kings from the right of investing spiritual dignitaries, sent two legates to cite Henry to appear before him for his delinquencies, in continuing to bestow and sell investitures. This brought the dispute between the pope and the emperor to a crisis, for the legates being unceremoniously dismissed, and a Diet held at Worms having deposed Hildebrand, he, in retaliation, excommunicated the emperor, and released all that prince’s subjects from their oath of allegiance.

It was about the opening of the year 1076, that Henry, returning to Utrecht from a campaign against the revolted Saxons, became aware that he was under the papal ban; and in autumn a Diet held at Tribur decided that, in the event of the emperor not being received into the bosom of the Church by the following February, a Diet should be held at Augsburg, and his crown given to another. Henry, thereupon, took up his residence at Spire, where, deserted by his courtiers, he was consoled by his injured but forgiving wife—​the pure and faithful Bertha. When months had worn away, and the pope still refused to receive him in Italy as a penitent, the proud emperor, assuming the garb of a pilgrim, and accompanied by Bertha, with their infant child in her arms, undertook, in the midst of a singularly severe winter, to cross the Alps, which, after the utmost danger and fatigue, they almost miraculously accomplished.

About the end of January the emperor appeared as a humble suppliant at the gate of the castle of Canossa, in whose feudal halls the pope was enjoying the hospitality of his faithful adherent, Matilda, countess of Tuscany. In the trenches of that Italian fortress, while the Aphenines were covered with snow, and the mountain streams with ice, Henry, cold, fasting, barefoot, and unclad, save with a scanty woolen garment, stood for three whole days, imploring, with tears of agony and cries for mercy, the pity of Hildebrand. As the third day was drawing to a close, the pope relaxed, admitted the humiliated emperor to his presence, and after subjecting the royal victim to the depth of debasement, revoked the papal anathema.

The degradation to which the emperor had been exposed so galled his subjects, that they meditated a removal of the imperial crown to the head of his infant son, Conrad; the Saxons having elected Rodolph as their sovereign, defeated Henry in two battles; and Hildebrand once more pronounced against him the sentence of excommunication. But the emperor had his revenge; for his rival, Rodolph, having fallen in battle by the hand of Godfrey of Bouillon, and the pope’s Norman allies being absent in the East, the banners of Germany were suddenly displayed before the walls of Rome. In the spring of 1084 the besiegers entered the Eternal City. Gregory took refuge in the castle of St. Angelo, and Clement III, a rival pontiff, placed the Imperial crown on Henry’s brow. But the return of the warlike Normans caused the Imperial troops to retreat with precipitation; while the Roman citizens rising against his allies compelled Hildebrand to fly for shelter to Salerno. There, broken with time and trouble he expired; and his last words were, ‘I have loved righteousness and hated iniquity; therefore I die in exile.’

Henry returned to Germany, where he reigned for a while undisturbed by civil war; but Pope Pascal, aspiring to follow in the footsteps of Hildebrand, incited Henry, the Emperor’s eldest son, to rebellion; and the youth declaring that he could not acknowledge as king or father a man who was excommunicated, treacherously imprisoned his sire, and assembling a Diet was proclaimed in his stead. Two prelates were sent to demand the regalia from the deposed Emperor; he, receiving them in his symbols of sovereignty, refused; but, laying violent hands on him, they dragged him from his chair, and forcibly divested him of the regal robes. Poor and distressed, Henry escaped from prison, and raised a considerable force to assert his rights; but he died at Liége in 1106, before active operations commenced. His body, denied a resting-place in consecrated ground, was interred in a cave near Spire.

Henry V, though indebted to the Pope for support in his parricidal rebellion, was no sooner established on the Imperial throne, than, reviving the claim of investiture for which his father had contended, he invited the Pope to Germany, that they might settle the dispute. But Pascal having appealed to the King of France, and a fruitless conference having been held at Chalons, Henry entered Italy with eighty thousand men, and after a tedious interview in the church of St. Peter, ordered his guards to take Pascal into custody. The populace of Rome rushed to the Pope’s rescue; a battle was fought under the walls; and the carnage was so terrible that the waters of the Tiber were stained with blood. Pascal, taken prisoner, crowned the Emperor, and confirmed the right of investiture; but hardly had Henry departed when the Pope changed his tune, and pronounced a sentence of excommunication. The Emperor once more entered Rome, chased the Pope to the territories of the Norman princes, and marched to take possession of Tuscany, which Matilda, during Hildebrand’s visit to Canossa, had bequeathed to the Church. Meanwhile Pascal died, and the States of the Empire having implored Henry to make peace with the new Pope, a Diet was held at Worms, and the matter accommodated. In 1125 a pestilential disease carried Henry to the grave; and the Imperial dignity, after being enjoyed till 1138 by Lothario II, was bestowed upon Henry’s nephew, Conrad, duke of Franconia. A rival appeared in the person of the haughty Duke of Bavaria, whose followers called themselves Guelphs, from his family name; while the adherents of the Emperor adopted the appellation of Ghibelines, from Hihghibelin, the village of which Frederick, the brother of Conrad, was a native. Both parties took up arms, and during the contest a romantic incident occurred at the siege of Weinsberg. The Guelphs in the castle, after being long besieged, yielded on condition that the Duke of Bavaria and his officers should be allowed to retire unmolested: but the noble Duchess, apprehending a breach of faith, stipulated that she and the other women in the castle should be allowed to come forth and be conducted to a place of safety, with as much as each of them could carry. Conrad, who expected to see the ladies loaded with jewels, gold, and silver, was in no small degree surprised when the Duchess and her fair comrades appeared carrying their gallant husbands; and he was so touched at this display of conjugal affection, that he granted most favorable terms to the Guelphs.

The preaching of St. Bernard, though in French, and therefore unintelligible to the Germans, had nevertheless a powerful effect on the latter; and Conrad, resolving to take part in the second Crusade, embarked with a mighty army: but being betrayed by Greek guides in Asia Minor, his forces were surprised and defeated amidst the defiles of Laodicea. The defeated Emperor, returning to Europe, died in 1151, and was succeeded by his nephew, Frederick Barbarossa, who was soon involved in a struggle with Henry the Lion duke of Saxony, with the Italian cities, and with another enemy infinitely more formidable than either.

Early in the twelfth century, Nicolas Breakspear, an English mendicant, was strolling about from place to place, when chance directed his vagrant steps to the convent of St. Rufus, in Provence, where the canons received him as a servant. Being afterward admitted as a monk, Nicolas rose to the rank of Abbot. In 1154, by personal merit and good fortune, the Anglo-Saxon beggar was placed in the papal chair as Adrian IV, and before crowning Frederick he insisted that the Emperor should on bended knee kiss his foot, hold his stirrup, and lead his white mule by the bridle for nine paces. Frederick reluctantly consented to perform the ceremony at Venice; but purposely mistaking the stirrup, he remarked with a sneer, ‘I have yet to learn the business of a groom.’

The Emperor proved himself an able politician and a stout soldier. To abridge the power of the martial nobles, he followed the example of Louis VI, of France, and conferred charters of community, which enfranchised the people and formed them into corporations.

Going to the third Crusade, this great ruler was drowned in crossing the river Seneff, and was succeeded on the Imperial throne by his son, Henry VI, who was speedily involved in Italian wars.

A few years earlier the throne of Sicily had been filled by William, a king of the Guiscard line, who had espoused Joan, a sister of Richard of England, without being blessed with heirs. William, however, had an aunt, named Constance, whose chance of being queen appeared so certain, that Henry, who was at once poor and avaricious, wedded, with great pomp, the princess, though she was thirty-two—​an advanced age for a royal Italian bride. But when William died, so strong was the prejudice against a female sovereign, that his illegitimate son Tancred was proclaimed King. Henry prepared to assert his claim, but the lion-hearted King of England, on his way to Palestine, arrived at Sicily, and indignant to find his sister deprived at once of her dower and her freedom, commenced aggressions. Subsequently, however, Richard concluded with Tancred a league, offensive and defensive, and the Emperor, however he might have dealt with the Sicilian King, had no fancy for playing at the game of carnage with Richard Cœur de Lion. He therefore waited till the English King’s departure, and entering Italy, laid siege to Naples in the summer of 1091; but when a fever, which carried off a large portion of his army, prostrated himself, the Emperor, in alarm, raised the siege, and executed an inglorious retreat. But he treasured up his malice, and his day of triumph came.

When Richard had been seized, imprisoned, and forced to pay an enormous ransom, Tancred died, and his son was placed on the throne. Availing himself of the money extorted from Richard, Henry—​who had meanwhile incorporated into a regular order the Teutonic knights, originally destined for the service of the sick in Palestine, and built for them a house at Coblenz—​announced his resolution of undertaking a Crusade. But instead of going to the Holy Land, he marched into Sicily, the throne of which he seized, after perpetrating revolting cruelties. At length, one of the Norman princes having been tied naked to a chair of red-hot iron, and crowned with a circle of the same burning metal, the Empress in disgust turned against her husband, incited the inhabitants to rebel, and imposed upon him the most humiliating conditions. Henry died at Messina, poisoned, as was said, by his Italian spouse, and his son, Frederick II, was placed on the Imperial throne; but the German princes, indignant at seeing the crown become hereditary, held a Diet at Cologne, and elected Otho, duke of Brunswick, son of Henry the Lion. Civil war arose between the princes, and Otho IV was crowned at Rome by the Pope; but Frederick allied himself with Philip Augustus, king of France, who at the village of Bovines, in 1214, totally defeated and ruined the rival. Upon this disaster Otho retired to Brunswick, where he became a devotee; while Frederick, having been crowned with unwonted magnificence, afterward undertook a Crusade without the papal sanction, and on his return was excommunicated by Gregory IX. From that period his life was one long and vexatious struggle with the Popes; the Dominican friars preached a holy war against him; a defeat before Parma made him retire to recruit his army in Sicily; and there he died in the year 1251.

His son Conrad, last Emperor of the house of Swabia, assumed the Imperial title; but after his death, in 1254, there was an interregnum of several years, during which Richard, earl of Cornwall, brother of Henry III of England, spent large sums to secure his election as King of the Romans, which he deemed a certain step to the Imperial dignity; but several of the Electors being favorable to Alphonso, king of Castile, Richard’s aspiration was not fulfilled.

At length, in 1274, the German princes, though impatient of subordination, willing that the throne should be occupied by an emperor whose influence was not such as to excite their jealousy, elected Rodolph of Hapsburg, a Swiss baron; but the king of Bohemia, of whose household Rodolph had been steward, unable to brook the sovereignty of his former inferior, not only refused homage for his fiefs, but seized on the Duchy of Austria. He was soon compelled to give up Austria and do homage for Bohemia and Moravia, but bargained for the latter ceremony being performed in private. To gratify him in this particular, a close pavilion was erected on the small island of Cumberg, and thither came the Bohemian, decked with gold and jewels, while the Emperor appeared in plain and simple habiliments. The Bohemian was nervously anxious to avoid a public scene; but at a critical moment the curtains of the pavilion, falling aside, revealed to thousands of soldiers the proud King on bended knee before his former steward. Incited by a haughty spouse, he renounced his allegiance; but the Emperor taking the field, slew the hapless King in battle, and, to aggrandize the house of Hapsburg, bestowed Austria on his second son, Count Albert.

Adolph of Nassau being next elected Emperor, Count Albert of Austria, incited by Philip IV of France and supported by a minority of the Electors, rose in arms, slew Adolph in a battle at Spire, and was soon after crowned as Emperor. Thereupon Pope Boniface summoned him to answer for Adolph’s murder; but a bitter feud arising between the French King and the Pope, the latter found it convenient to court Albert’s alliance, and transferred to him the sovereignty of France. However, Albert soon had his hands full at home; for having, as hereditary sovereign of several Swiss cantons, made an attempt to seize the whole of the provinces, the natives combined, and with a small army won successive victories.

The end of Albert was particularly tragical. In 1309 he was walking one day on the banks of the Russ, when his companion, a nephew, whose patrimony he had unjustly retained, drawing his sword, inflicted a mortal wound; and the Electors raised to the throne Henry of Luxembourg, the most renowned knight of an age which boasted of Robert Bruce and Giles de Argentine. The martial Emperor having avenged his predecessor’s assassination, fought his way to Rome, imposed a tribute on the Italian States, and died in 1314; poisoned, as was supposed, by emissaries of the Pope. Louis of Bavaria was then elected; and, after a long dispute, defeated and captured Frederick the Handsome, of Austria. But successive Popes proved his mortal foes; and though the death of his Austrian competitor left Louis without a rival, Benedict XII, who resided at Avignon, vindictively pursued him to the grave. His subjects were made to choose between their sovereign and the pontiff: discord and disorder loosened the frame-work of society; and the fraternity known as the Friends of God, by the spread of their doctrines, prepared the way for that religious reformation which was accomplished in the following century.

On the death of Louis, in 1348, the king of Bohemia, favored by the Pope, obtained the vacant throne, with the title of Charles IV. This Emperor issued the celebrated Golden Bull, which limited the number of Electors to seven, because of the seven mortal sins and the candlestick with seven branches. The publication was signalized by an ostentatious ceremony, in which the Electors took their appropriate parts as hereditary officers. The Archbishops of Mentz, Cologne, and Triers, carried the Imperial seals of Germany, Italy, and Gaul; the Duke of Luxembourg, as proxy of the Bohemian King, officiated as cupbearer, and poured wine from a golden flagon into the Emperor’s golden cup; the Duke of Saxony, as grand-marshal, appeared with a silver measure of oats; the Elector of Brandenburg presented the Emperor and Empress with water in basins of gold; and the Count Palatine, in presence of the great officers of state, served up the viands in dishes of the most precious metal.

The Emperor Maximilian, known as the Moneyless, described Charles as ‘the pest of the empire,’ and not without cause; for he first dissipated the Imperial territories in Italy, and in 1376, to secure the election of his son, Wenceslaus, as King of the Romans, he promised each of the Electors a hundred thousand crowns. Unable to pay so large a sum, he alienated the ample Imperial domain which stretched along the banks of the Rhine from Basil to Cologne, and dying in 1378, was succeeded by the son for whom he had made so great a sacrifice.

Wenceslaus proved himself the most cruel and vicious of mankind. He is said to have walked the streets with an executioner, to put to death such persons as incurred his dislike, to have drowned in the Moldau a monk who refused to reveal the confessions of his wife, the Queen of Bohemia, and even to have, in an hour of intoxication, ordered his cook to be roasted alive. The tyrant was, in consequence of his gross incapacity, deprived of the Imperial crown, which was given to Robert, the Count Palatine; and he, in his turn, was succeeded by Sigismund, brother of Wenceslaus, and King of Hungary.

Christendom was at that period scandalized by the great schism of the West, produced by the cardinals having elected three rival popes—​each considering himself endowed with all the attributes which Hildebrand had claimed for the Vicar of Christ; and Sigismund, eager to settle the controversy, visited England to consult Henry V. But finding that hero wholly occupied with French wars, the Emperor returned, and in 1418 summoned the Council of Constance, which settled the dispute by degrading the three rivals and electing Martin V.

The new pontiff was installed by an imposing ceremony. Arrayed in pontifical vestments, he mounted a richly-caparisoned mule, which was led by the reins, with due solemnity, by the Emperor and the Elector of Brandenburg. A magnificent canopy was held over the Pope’s head by four Counts; several princes walked around; and forty thousand equestrians took part in the procession. The Council then went to more serious work, and summoned John Huss, a disciple of Wicliffe. Huss, after defending the articles of his faith, was declared a heretic, stripped of his sacerdotal habit, crowned with a mitre of paper, on which were painted three devils, and condemned to be burned with his writings. The victim died praising God, and was followed to the stake by Jerome of Prague.

When Sigismund went down to his tomb in 1436, his son-in-law, Albert of Austria, who inherited the crowns of Hungary and Bohemia, was raised to the Imperial throne; and after dividing Germany into six circles, each regulated by a Diet, he was succeeded by his cousin, Frederick III. At the beginning of this long and languid reign, while war was raging between the Turks and Hungarians, John Guttenberg invented at Strasburg the art of printing, which brought into operation the power of the pen; and that potent weapon being, on the revival of learning, directed first against spiritual, and then against temporal despotism, materially influenced those revolutions which have gradually removed ancient landmarks, and changed the face of Continental Europe.

Maximilian I succeeded his brother Frederick in 1493, and, to terminate the calamities created by private feuds, instituted, at the stately city of Frankfort, the Imperial Chamber, consisting of a president appointed by the Emperor, and sixteen judges, chosen by him and the States; and he prevailed on the Diet to consent to the Aulic Council as the Emperor’s Court, and without appeal. After wearing the crown with honor, and exhibiting much enthusiasm for science and literature, Maximilian, in 1519, disappeared from the stage of affairs on the eve of great events; and his grandson Charles, the juvenile King of Spain, who inherited Austria, became a candidate for the Imperial dignity. In this he was opposed by Francis I, whose ambassadors impressed upon the Electors the necessity of showing that the empire was not an heir-loom in the house of Austria; and the Electors, with whom it was a rule not to select any prince already occupying an important position, caring little for either candidate, laid the diadem at the feet of Frederick of Saxony, a man of great prudence and popularity. Frederick, however, declined the distinction, and recommended them to choose the King of Spain, who was accordingly elected on 28th June, 1520, and crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle in the following October.

Thirty-seven years before that important event, the wife of a miner, named Luther, (a worthy, studious, and stubborn man), had, in the little town of Eisleben, become the mother of a boy, who was named Martin, from having been born on St. Martin’s Eve. Removed in infancy to Mansfeld, on the banks of the Vipper, young Luther, while standing by his father’s forge, or accompanying his mother to gather fagots in the forest, indulged in the anticipation of becoming a scholar, and being sent, after some preparatory training, to Erfurt, he excited by his intellectual powers the admiration of the whole university. One day, while reading keenly in the library, he came upon a Latin copy of the Bible, the pages of which he perused with breathless interest; and resolving upon a monastic life, he entered the Convent of St. Augustine at the age of twenty-one. After spending three years in the cloister, Luther accepted a professorship in the University of Wittemberg, which Frederick, the Elector of Saxony, had founded. And in 1512 being sent as envoy to Rome, where Pope Julius then reigned, and his monastic illusions vanishing into air, he commenced his career as a Reformer, and was excommunicated by Leo X, who did not like his hunting, shooting, and fishing to be disturbed by heretics. Luther retaliated by publishing the ‘Babylonish Captivity;’ and the book being burned, he, in 1520, publicly committed to the flames the Pope’s bull and decretals.

The popular spirit in Germany was in Luther’s favor; for though, from the days of Louis of Bavaria, the Emperors had acknowledged the ascendancy of the Popes, the people had exhibited an increasing dislike to the yoke of Rome, and in 1512 the populace of the Rhenish provinces had displayed their discontent by forming the League of Shoes. Maximilian, it appears, had not manifested any dislike to the new faith; but Charles V had inherited enough of Spanish bigotry to decide his opinions, and in 1521 he summoned Luther to appear before the Diet of Worms, and answer for his doctrines. The bold Reformer soon arrived from Wittemberg in a wagon, defended himself with great spirit, and afterward escaped into Saxony, where, secured by his friend the Elector in the fortress of Wartberg, while branded by the Pope as ‘a viper of hell,’ he commenced his translation of the Bible. And matters did not rest here, for the mind of Europe was in agitation.

While, in England, Henry was attacking alike the Catholics and Protestants; while, in Scotland, Cardinal Beaton was feasting his eyes with the burning of heretics; while, in France, the brave and glory-loving Francis was sullying his fame by consenting to the villages of the Vaudois being converted into a desert waste; the Emperor Charles was by no means indifferent to the interest of the Romish Church within the Imperial dominions. And when freed by the death of his impetuous rival from apprehensions of war, he gained, at Muhlberg, a victory over the Confederates at Smalcalde, which placed the venerable Frederick of Saxony in his power. Strangely, at that crisis, the Lutherans turned for aid to Henry II of France, who, though bent on persecution at home, on certain conditions proclaimed himself their champion. But ere his services could be rendered, Maurice of Saxony, to whom Charles had given the Electorate, preferring to be a chief of the Protestants to figuring as the Emperor’s creature, after much dissimulation marched on Inspruck, and almost succeeded in capturing Charles, who, after escaping over the Alps in a litter, sick and solitary, signed the Convention of Passau, which was converted into a definitive peace in 1552—​the era of religious liberty in Germany.

At the close of this war, weary of the world, the great Emperor, having previously abdicated the Spanish throne in favor of his son Philip, resigned the Imperial crown to his brother Ferdinand, king of the Romans. After a reign of eight years, that prince was succeeded by his son, Maximilian II, who died in 1596, while preparing to support his election as King of Poland.

Rodolph II, son of Maximilian, was so entirely devoted to the study of astronomy and astrology that he saw with indifference his dominions usurped by his brother Matthias, who, succeeding to the Empire in 1612, procured the election of his cousin Ferdinand to the thrones of Hungary and Bohemia. Both nations revolted, and the Hungarians were appeased; but Ferdinand was a pupil of the Jesuits, and the Bohemian Protestants, to whom he was obnoxious, advanced in arms to the gates of Vienna; and, while Matthias was on his dying bed, commenced that terrible conflict known in history as the Thirty Years’ War.

Ferdinand, though elevated to the Imperial throne, was sternly rejected by the Bohemians, who offered their crown to Frederick, the Elector Palatine, and son-in-law of the first James of England. Frederick, proceeding to Prague, accepted the gift, but rashly, as it soon appeared; for in November, 1620, the Imperialists coming thither, under Tilly, inflicted a defeat, which made the Elector and his fair spouse, whom men called the Queen of Hearts, fly to the Hague, while their friends surrendered town after town in the Palatinate to the Italian general Spinola. The Duke of Batavia, ere long, took possession of the Electorate; and its hereditary sovereign, homeless and houseless, in spite of the alliance of the King of Denmark, remained a pensioner on Dutch bounty at the Hague.

The tyranny of Ferdinand speedily led to the confederacy of Leipsic, of which Gustavus Adolphus, the heroic King of Sweden, was chief. After bearing the banner of Protestantism in triumph through Germany, that Lion of the North fell in the battle of Lutzen, and the fortunes of the Elector seemed desperate. But when the Emperor had closed his checkered career, and been succeeded by his son Ferdinand III, and when Germany was suffering from famine and poverty, the consequence of the long war, the Protestants, with the aid of France, found matters assuming a more favorable aspect. Turenne won the battle of Sommerhausen; Wrangel captured Prague; and the great Condé’s victory at Lens, where the Archduke Leopold, brother of the Emperor, had his army routed, compelled Ferdinand to consent to the Peace of Westphalia, by which the Palatine family were restored and religious equality decreed.

The peace was grateful to the inhabitants after their long struggle. Their losses were gradually repaired, their lands cultivated, and their towns rebuilt; but on the death of Ferdinand, and the accession of his unamiable son, Leopold, in 1658, the Hungarians rose in insurrection, made Tekeli their prince, and called in the Turks to their aid. The reigning Sultan, in 1683, raised the most formidable force ever sent against Christendom; and Lorrain, the Imperial general, retired before the Turkish crescent. Leopold and his household fled from Vienna; two-thirds of the inhabitants followed; the city was besieged, and it would have fallen but for the timely arrival of John Sobieski, king of Poland, who defeated the invaders, and took the famous standard of Mohammed, which was sent as a present to the Pope. Fearful was the vengeance which Leopold now took on the Hungarians. A scaffold, erected in the market-place of Eperies, stood there so many months, that the executioners were weary of victims. At length, the Hungarian nobles having been summoned to Vienna, declared the crown hereditary: the States at Presburg confirmed the decree; and the Emperor’s son, Joseph, at the age of nine, was acknowledged as King of Hungary.

When Charles, king of Spain, breathed his last, without heirs, and Louis XIV sent his grandson Philip V to Madrid, Leopold, whose mother was daughter of Philip III, claimed the Spanish throne for his second son, the Archduke Charles. England supported the Austrian claim, and the war was still raging when, in 1705, Leopold dying, was succeeded on the Imperial throne by his son Joseph, who seized Mantua and Milan, assailed the temporal power of the Pope, and made everything bend to his power. In the midst of his successes he expired, in 1711, and Charles VI, whom the allies were attempting to place on the Spanish throne, having obtained the Imperial crown, the treaty of Utrecht terminated the War of Succession. To that treaty Charles at first refused his assent; but when a French army under Marshal Villars had passed the Rhine, he acceeded to the views of the allies, and obtained Milan, Naples, and the Netherlands.

One of the greatest and most successful captains of that age was Prince Eugène. His father being a member of the house of Savoy, and his mother a niece of Cardinal Mazarin, he applied to Louis XIV first for an abbey, and then for a regiment. The Grand Monarch, little understanding the applicant’s character, refused in both cases. Prince Eugène, taking service with the Emperor, was associated with the illustrious Marlborough in those brilliant victories that have made the name of the ‘handsome Englishman’ immortal, had the distinction of expelling the French from Italy, and in 1717, undertook the memorable siege of Belgrade, the strongest castle in Europe. Surrounded in his camp by a hundred and fifty thousand Turks, he routed them with immense slaughter, and captured the place, which remained in possession of Austria for twenty-two years.

Charles, anxious that the hereditary dominions of the house of Austria should be settled on his daughter, the celebrated Maria Theresa, obtained the assent of the European powers to a pragmatic sanction. But hardly had his eyes closed in 1740, when events verified the observation of Prince Eugène: ‘The best guarantee in this case would be an army of a hundred thousand men.’ Frederick the Great, king of Prussia, claimed Selesia, captured Breslau, after winning the battle of Molwitz; while Charles of Bavaria, whom Louis XV had caused to be crowned as King of Bohemia, was chosen Emperor, with the title of Charles VII. But Maria Theresa, though deserted by her allies, was a woman of too high spirit to be daunted by adverse circumstances. She convoked the States of Hungary, and taking her infant son in her arms, addressed the assembly in Latin, the idiom of the States—​‘I place in your hands,’ she said, ‘the daughter and son of your kings. They look to you for succor, and depend on you for safety.’

The Hungarian nobles, too chivalrous to resist such an appeal from such lips, drew their glittering swords, and exclaimed with one accord, ‘we will die for our Queen,’ and levied an army which brought her enemies to reason. At length, after an English army had won the battle of Dettingen, and Charles VII had been removed by death, peace was restored, and the husband of the popular Queen was raised, in 1745, to the Imperial throne, with the title of Francis I. But, in 1756, the Seven Years’ War breaking out between France and England, Maria Theresa, regretting the cession of Selesia to the Prussian King, flattered the vanity of Madame Pompadour, and secured the aid of France. The skill and intrepid courage of Frederick prevailed, and after seven bloody campaigns, he signed a peace with the Empress-Queen.

On the death of his father, Joseph, the son of Maria Theresa, ascended the Imperial throne, and issued some oppressive edicts against the Netherlands, which his grandfather had acquired at the close of the Spanish war. The inhabitants had been contented under the rule of Maria Theresa, but revolted at Joseph’s tyranny; and terrible was the punishment. Their houses were ruthlessly entered at midnight; women and their infants were slain with one bayonet, and their husbands were, without trial, carried off prisoners to Vienna on the banks of the Danube. These cruelties prompted the Netherlands to declare themselves forever released from Austrian sway, and to treat every offer of indemnity with contempt.

This Emperor’s conduct was otherwise praiseworthy; he abolished the system of torture, with servitude and villeinage, granted a liberal toleration in religion, and was easy and affable in communicating with his subjects. He was succeeded in 1790 by his brother Leopold, who, during his brief reign, restored tranquillity in the Netherlands, and was hesitating about the course he should pursue toward revolutionary France, when he died in 1792.

Francis II then succeeded his father, and took a conspicuous part in the struggle, as has already been related. But in 1806, when fourteen princes of Germany formed the Confederation of the Rhine, and acknowledged the victorious Napoleon as their protector, Francis, finding himself deprived of all his honors as head of the Germanic body, abandoned the ancient title, and styled himself Emperor of Austria.

When Napoleon, after making the kings of the earth bow down before his mighty energies, fell in 1814, Vienna, the capital of the new empire, was the scene of one of the most important assemblies of modern days. There the Emperors of Austria and Russia, the King of Prussia, and many of the Germanic princes, met the representatives of England and France, to establish the territorial limits of the Continental States upon recognized principles of international policy. That was the celebrated Congress of Vienna; and while withholding the Netherlands from Austria, it restored Lombardy, and added thereto all the ancient possessions of the far-famed Venetian republic. The Germanic Confederation was likewise dealt with, and something done toward harmonizing the interests of the independent states into a nationality.

The Emperor Francis died in 1835, after an eventful reign of forty-three years, leaving his dominions to his son Ferdinand, under the auspices of the profound Metternich. But during the revolutionary epoch of 1848, while the Hungarians were in arms to assert their independence, he abdicated; and his brother declining to accept the Imperial crown, it came to the son of the latter, Francis Joseph, who thereupon assumed the titles of Emperor of Austria and King of Hungary.

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While England, under the first of her Scottish kings, was falling from the high estate she had occupied under her native princes; while in France the genius of Richelieu was making itself felt; while the glory was departing from the Spanish monarchy; while the Thirty Years’ War was beginning to desolate Germany; while the illustrious career of Gustavus Adolphus was opening upon Sweden; and while the warriors of Turkey were yet terrible to the nations of Europe, Michael Theodoriwitz, earliest of the dynasty of Romanoff, became Czar of Muscovy. His dominions were uncultivated, his subjects barbarous, and the country was in the utmost disorder; for on the extinction of the male line of the former Czars—​the posterity of John Basilowitz, who had redeemed Russia from the Tartars—​no fewer than five pretenders had aspired to the vacant throne, and involved the realm in civil war. But Michael, proving worthy of his elevation, reigned for more than thirty years, maintained his position with dignity, and beqeathed the crown to his heir.

Alexis, the son of Michael, succeeded in 1645, and applied himself with vigor to the harsh duties of reform. The necessity was indeed pressing; for Muscovy was still little better than a ferocious anarchy; and the capital was kept in perpetual consternation by the capricious violence of the Strelitzes—​a militia formed in imitation of the celebrated Turkish Janizaries. But the new Czar proved himself an able ruler, and did much to create order. He published a code of laws, purified the courts of justice, restrained the power of the boyards over their serfs, and afforded much encouragement to agriculture and manufactures.

Toward the close of his reign Alexis was deprived by death of his first wife; and though he had a family of sons and daughters, the Czar determined upon a second matrimonial speculation. According to the fashion then pursued by the rulers of Russia, Alexis issued a proclamation inviting all the most beautiful damsels in his dominions, irrespective of their social condition, to repair to Moscow that he might select a fitting bride. Among the rest came a lady named Natalie. She, having attracted the eye of Alexis, was forthwith exalted to the dignity of Czarina; and, in due time, she became the mother of a prince who afterward rendered himself famous as Peter the Great.

When Alexis expired in 1676, he left, besides Peter, then a mere child, two sons, Theodore and Ivan, and a daughter, Sophia, who ere long played a conspicuous part in Russian affairs. Theodore, a sickly youth, inherited his father’s crown, but did not survive to wear it more than a few years. On his death-bed he summoned the boyards to his presence, and recommended them to set aside Ivan on account of his bodily infirmities, and intrust the sceptre to the youthful Peter. To this scheme Sophia, who united much personal beauty with a strong will and a vaulting ambition, was vehemently opposed; and her smiles so completely won over the Captain of Strelitzes, and fascinated the populace, that the incapable Ivan was seated on the throne, while she assumed the functions of government. The widowed Czarina and her son, after being besieged in their palace, fled from the city, and sought an asylum in the Convent of Trinity; but they had scarcely taken refuge within its walls, when the soldiers of Sophia were heard clamoring at the outer gate. At this crisis a lucky thought crossed the agitated brain of the trembling Czarina. She placed her son on the high altar; and when the soldiers effected an entrance, the Superior of the Convent, pointing to the boy, exclaimed, ‘Behold him! there he is with God.’ The soldiers were touched with awe, till one of them, less scrupulous than his fellows, after a pause stepped forward, and brandished his weapon to strike the child. But a monk, arresting his arm, thrust him back, saying with calm solemnity, ‘Not in this sacred place.’ At that moment the tread of cavalry was again heard, and the Superior having exclaimed, ‘Here come our friends at last; let the enemies of God and the Czar tremble,’ the edifice was speedily cleared of intruders, and the royal boy’s life providentially saved.

The son of Natalie had other perils to encounter on the threshold of life. At an obscure village, situated at a distance from Moscow, he was surrounded by a number of most profligate youths to corrupt his morals and debase his mind. But, instead of falling into the snare, Peter persuaded his comrades to have recourse to manly sports and martial exercises; he formed them into a small military force; and in this juvenile regiment, taking rank only as a private, he wrought his way gradually to command.

About this time Le Fort and Gordon, two adventurers of mark and likelihood, appeared in Russia. Le Fort was a native of Geneva, and had been originally destined for commercial pursuits; but with a soul above such matters, he had followed the bent of his inclination, and betaken himself to a military career. Gordon was of a different stamp, being the cadet of a Cavalier family in Scotland, who had in youth left his native soil to win fame and fortune, and who had served with the Swedes and Poles. Peter now attached these distinguished soldiers of fortune to his cause; and they rendered him most valuable aid in his schemes for the creation of that power which is now regarded as one of the most pernicious elements in European society.

When Peter had attained his seventeenth year he took to himself a wife; and this step so alarmed the aspiring Sophia, that in her haste she assumed the title of Empress, and dispatched a force to arrest the bridegroom. But her indications of enmity created such a ferment among the young hero’s friends, that, in 1689, they compelled the haughty princess to abandon the struggle and retired to a convent, while Peter was installed as Czar.

Ambitious of learning the art of governing his people and of ameliorating their condition, Peter, in the company of Le Fort, who figured as ambassador, left his dominions to acquire information in foreign lands. After visiting Berlin, he repaired to Holland, studied commerce at Amsterdam, and wrought as an ordinary shipwright in the docks of Saardam. He then passed over to England to complete his knowledge; and carried with him from Deptford, which he visited as a simple mechanic, sailors and artificers, whom he afterward promoted to places of honor and command in Russia.

On returning home it became the chief object of the Czar Peter to teach his barbarous subjects the art of civilized war, and to form a regularly disciplined army. And in Charles XII of Sweden he found an antagonist whose courage and enthusiasm called forth all his genius. In their first conflicts the Swedish monarch was triumphant, but Peter did not therefore blanch. ‘I knew,’ said he, after being defeated at Narva, ‘that the Swedes would beat us; but in time they will teach us to become their conquerors.’ He soon after recovered Narva by a skillful assault, and then applied his energies to the building of that remarkable town so intimately associated with his celebrity as a ruler.

The Czar, in realizing his project, made choice of a singular site. Between Finland and Ingria was a marshy island, which during summer was a heap of mud and in winter a frozen pool. Growling bears and howling wolves had hitherto haunted the spot; but, resolute in his purpose, the Czar, bringing men from all parts of his realm, cleared forests, formed roads, erected mounds, and laid the foundation of St. Petersburg. Though inundations demolished the works, and fever carried off the workmen, the Czar persevered in the undertaking; and in 1714 he removed the council thither from Moscow, the ancient capital.

A few years passed over; and Peter assuming the title of Emperor of all the Russias, was formally acknowledged as such by the various powers of Europe. He established order throughout his dominions, provided education for youth, and adopted many useful reforms. But his temper was still so despotic, and his nature so fierce, that when Alexis, his son and heir, offended him by a dissolute life, and by opposing his schemes of civilization, the Czar ordered that he should suffer death. Peter himself expired in 1725, and was succeeded on the throne by his second spouse, the Czarina.

Catharine, originally a Livonian captive, exercised the functions of government with credit for the next three years, and was succeeded by Peter II, a son of the murdered Alexis. This Czar only reigned for a brief period; and the male line of the Romanoffs thus becoming extinct, the Russians elevated to the vacant throne Anne, duchess of Courtland, the second daughter of the Czar Peter’s brother. The reign of Anne was happy and prosperous; but on her decease there took place a struggle for the succession, which terminated in the proclamation of Elizabeth, a daughter of Peter the Great, and in the imprisonment of her rivals. Her reign was particularly fortunate. A war with Sweden was brought to a satisfactory conclusion, and the Czarina’s fleets and armies were every where victorious. Russia, under the auspices of Elizabeth, took an important part in the Seven Years’ War, and the position of Frederick the Great had gradually become one of the extreme peril, when the Empress died in 1762, and the throne was inherited by her nephew Peter III.

Peter who was animated by an enthusiastic admiration of the Prussian King’s talent and courage, immediately consented to a peace, and the new reign commenced auspiciously. The nobles and gentry were freed from vassalage, and placed on an equality with those in other countries; and the laborers were, to some extent, relieved from the burden of taxation. But being a Lutheran, Peter shocked the clergy by his contempt for the Greek Church, while he offended the army by his partiality for the Holstein Guards, and thus raised up a host of foes. The unfortunate Emperor had made another enemy, still more uncompromising. Before coming to the throne he had espoused Catharine, a princess of Anhalt Zerbst, a woman of great ability and boundless ambition. Their tastes, habits, and dispositions, were, however, utterly dissimilar; and fierce quarrels arising between them, Peter became so deeply enamored of the Countess of Woronzoff, that ere long a rumor crept about of his intention to shut up the Empress in prison and raise the Countess to share his throne. The rumor cost him dear; for while he was seeking consolation in the society of the lady of his heart, Catharine marched against the devoted Czar at the head of a strong party, proclaimed that he had ceased to reign, and threw him into prison, where he soon after breathed his last, under suspicious circumstances.

The masculine Empress then ascended the Russian throne with the title of Catharine II, and commenced her reign by flattering the prejudices which her illfated husband had so fatally wounded. But a large share of her attention was speedily bestowed upon the affairs of Poland. When Augustus, king of that illfated country, expired at Dresden in 1763, the Empress, by the influence of Russian bayonets, procured the election of Stanislaus Augustus, one of her former favorites. Almost from the opening of the reign, Poland was the scene of disorder and desolation; for Catherine, having transported to Siberia a number of senators hostile to her designs, roused the indignant spirit of the nation. A band of patriotic Poles, seizing on Cracow and Bar, formed a league for their deliverance from a foreign yoke, and implored assistance from Louis XV. Fifteen hundred Frenchmen, under Dumouriez, marched to the assistance of the confederates, and Turkey took part in the quarrel. But the Russians were completely victorious; Bender was captured; the Turkish fleet was destroyed; and the Crimea was annexed to Catherine’s dominions. Flushed with success, and unscrupulous by nature, the Empress projected the dismemberment of Poland, forced her scheme upon Maria Theresa, and in 1772 entered into a treaty of partition with the rulers of Austria and Prussia. The Polish Diet was intimidated by menaces; and the several provinces, about one-third of the Polish territory, which had been allotted to the spoilers, were surrendered.

Scarcely had the Russian Empress perpetrated this piece of ruthless injustice, when she was alarmed by the serious rebellion of a Cossack, who, assuming the name and character of her dead husband, pretended that he had escaped from the hands of those employed to assassinate him. The Cossack bore a striking resemblance to the deceased Czar, and was successful in arraying a considerable band of followers under his banner. He boldly took the field, and, possessing both skill and valor, was for a time victorious over the generals of Catherine. But at length he was totally defeated, taken prisoner, carried to Moscow in an iron cage, and beheaded as a traitor.

Danger soon arose from another quarter. After undertaking one of the most pompous processions on record to be crowned at Cherson, Catharine, on her return to St. Petersburg, was disturbed by a declaration of war on the part of Turkey: but the Ottoman power lost considerably by the operations, and the Dneister was henceforth recognized as the frontier of the hostile empires.

Soon after this Catharine was startled with the outbreak of the French revolution, and against it she issued a strong declaration. But she refrained from taking any active part in opposition to its promoters; for while other countries were binding themselves up for the fierce struggle that ensued, the Czarina seized the occasion to make a second onslaught on devoted Poland. In 1788 the Poles, in their aspirations after liberty, increased their army, and framed a new constitution, which rendered the crown hereditary in the family of the Elector of Saxony. The Empress thereupon sent an army into Poland, under pretense of maintaining the settlement of 1772, but in reality to complete the subjugation of the unhappy country, which, in 1793, she effected, with the aid of the King of Prussia. The Polish nobles, however, took up arms to rescue their native land, and, under the brave Kosciusko, were at first victorious, but the defeat and captivity of their general rendered further resistance unavailing.

Warsaw still holding out, and refusing to surrender, the Russians, under Suwarrow, assailed the town; and there ensued a fierce conflict, in which the Poles perished by thousands. After a resistance of eight hours they laid down their arms; but even then a multitude of unarmed and defenseless human beings were mercilessly sacrificed by fire and sword. Suwarrow entered with the pride of a victor; and the Te Deum was sung to celebrate his triumph. Next year Stanislaus made a formal resignation of his thorny crown. ‘I can cheerfully,’ he said, ‘surrender what has brought me so much calamity.’

With insatiable ambition the Czarina next cast her eyes longingly on Courland, and allured its Duke to her court. During his absence the nobles of that fertile and populous district assembled the states, to annex their country to Russia. To this scheme there was at first serious opposition; but a Russian general suddenly appearing in the assembly silenced all objections, and the deposed Duke retired to extensive estates which he had purchased in Prussia.

In 1796, after a successful war with Persia, Catherine was summoned to another state of existence; and the empire which she had rendered so extensive, was inherited by her son Paul. The deceased Czarina had confined herself to verbal denunciations in her hostility to revolutionary France; but her successor, eager to signalize his ascension by some brilliant exploit, entered—​with singular zeal for the cause of sovereigns—​into a confederation against the Republic. After setting the brave Kosciusko at liberty, and making peace with Persia, he took an active part in the war against France, and sent a powerful force into Italy to the aid of Austria. Under Suwarrow the Russian army afterward entered Switzerland, and menaced that Republic; but the veteran conqueror of Poland was there utterly unsuccessful, and, depressed with the loss of renown, he returned with his shattered army to die of despair, under the frowns of his despotic sovereign.

Jealous of the maritime greatness and naval ascendency of England, and swayed by a chivalrous admiration of Napoleon, the capricious Czar changed his politics, allied himself with France, seized the British ships in his ports, and organized the Northern Confederacy, which was dissolved by the victory of Copenhagen. But ere the news of that event could reach his ear, Paul had met a terrible fate; for his tyrannies had so provoked his courtiers, that they declared his death to be essential to the welfare of the empire. At dead of night, in March 1801, the Emperor, in his regimentals, was reposing on a sofa, when the conspirators glided into his apartments. A hussar, who kept guard, opposing their entrance, was cut down with the stroke of a sabre; and the Emperor, awakening at the noise, sprang to his feet, and endeavored to intrench himself behind chairs and tables. Finding his assailants resolute, the Emperor implored mercy, and even promised to make them all princes; but observing that they were inexorable, he sprang forward to escape through a high window. At length a blow prostrated him on the floor, and a young Hanoverian, twining his sash round the victim’s neck, and giving one end to an accomplice, twisted with all his might till the life of the miserable Emperor was extinct. The conspirators then retired, without molestation, from the palace. At early morn the intelligence was bruited about that Paul had died of appoplexy; and, in the course of the day, his eldest son, Alexander, was proclaimed Emperor of all the Russias.

The new Czar, for awhile, maintained neutrality between contending nations; but in 1804, when the Duke d’Enghien was seized at Ettenheim, carried to Paris, and shot in the wood of Vincennes, he assumed an attitude of hostility toward Bonaparte, formed a coalition with Austria and England, and undertook a campaign. The rapid successes of the French so bewildered Mack that he capitulated at Ulm; and Napoleon, after his entry into Vienna, marching into Moravia to meet the Russians, encountered their army, with the remains of the Austrians, at Austerlitz, and obtained one of the most glorious victories on record. Another coalition was soon formed; and Napoleon, appearing in Poland, fought at Eylau a battle bloody and indecisive; but at Friedland he completely vanquished the Russians, and forced the Czar to sue for peace. On a raft on the river Niemen, a conference was held between Napoleon and the vanquished sovereigns of Prussia, Russia, and Austria. This resulted in the Peace of Tilsit, in the erection of the Duchy of Warsaw, and in the acknowledgment of the elector of Saxony as its sovereign.

Continental Europe was now at Napoleon’s feet; but against his prodigious power and inordinate ambition another confederation was formed; and, in this league, Russia took a conspicuous part. The Emperor of the French thereupon repaired to Dresden, and fruitlessly attempted to lure back the Czar to his interests. But failing in that object, Napoleon took the field at the head of four hundred thousand men, crossed the Niemen, and advanced to Wilna. The Diet of Warsaw, after proclaiming the liberation of their country, demanded that the invader should recognize the independence of Poland; and Napoleon, returning an evasive answer, drove the Russians before him to Smolensko, where preparations had been made to arrest his progress.

On the 16th of August, 1812, Napoleon was before the ancient city, and at noon next day the conflict began. The French, at the point of the bayonet, drove the Russians within the walls, and the battle raged fiercely till sunset; but, when night set in, the city was in flames. Next morning the French, entering without resistance, found the place abandoned, save by men who were yielding their latest breath amidst the glare of the conflagration; and Smolensko was soon a heap of ruins. The Russians, laying waste the country, retreated towards Moscow, and the command of their army was transferred to Prince Kutosoff, a hoary and experienced general, whose arrival was hailed with delight. He announced that no more retrograde movements should be made, encouraged the troops by his presence, and exhorted them to defend Moscow to the last. This place was the ancient and venerable capital of their Empire; and its vast suburbs, its magnificent buildings, its towers, its domes, its spires, and its terraces, rendered Moscow one of the most interesting places in Europe, and the pride of the Russian Empire.

Both leaders exercised their utmost ingenuity, and made their dispositions with military skill. Along the Russian lines priests bore the sacred relics that had been saved at Smolensko, and inspired the soldiers with religious enthusiasm; and while their breasts were yet glowing with excitement, Prince Kutosoff implored them, in lofty and inspiriting words, ‘to think of their wives, their children, and their Emperor, and to write their faith and fealty on the field of their country with the life’s blood of the invader and his legions.’

On the morning of the 7th of September, Napoleon, who, aware of his veteran antagonist’s genius, had become more cautious in his operations, issued from his tent, and addressed his officers and soldiers in befitting terms. The hostile armies then met at Borodino, and the contest was maintained for hours with desperate valor. At one time the victor of Austerlitz had the mortification to see the choicest of his troops driven from the field. Bayonets and sabres flashed, and artillery thundered till night arrived, when both parties laid claim to the victory. But the Russian general decided on leaving Moscow to its fate; the inhabitants precipitately abandoned their houses; and the governor formally evacuated the city at the head of forty thousand persons.

Next morning the French, glowing with exultation, presented themselves at the gate, and forced an entrance; but scarcely had they done so, when they became aware that Moscow was in a blaze. The Exchange, an extensive building, containing warehouses stored with valuable merchandise, was first consigned to the flames, and, subsequently, a strong wind prevailing, the whole city was a sheet of fire, and the sky was obscured by volumes of smoke. The pillage soon commenced, and Napoleon’s camp in the fields was filled with rich spoil.

But now, deprived of the prospect of wintering at Moscow, the position of the Emperor of the French became perilous in the extreme; for he had penetrated into the heart of a hostile country; the cold season was approching; and the ruined city offered no asylum from the rigor of the climate. He, therefore, humbled his pride so far as to commence negotiations with Alexander; but finding his efforts fruitless, after forty days he abandoned his scheme of conquest, and issued orders for a retreat. But the Russians, believing the conqueror of Europe to be at length in their power, were bent upon revenge; and Kutosoff remarked—​‘The French have proclaimed the campaign terminated at Moscow, but on our part the warfare is about to begin.’

The retreat of Napoleon was disastrous beyond all precedent. The Russian armies seized every opportunity of attacking his troops; the winter set in with unusual severity and the troops were paralyzed with cold. The Cossacks, whose sole delight was war, under their celebrated leader, the Hetman Platoff, now mercilessly assailed the retiring legions, wrought fearful havoc, broke down bridges in the line of march, and harassed them on all sides. Scarcely had the French, after a day’s toilsome march, stretched themselves on the ground to enjoy a little repose, when these vigilant foes rushed impetuously into the camp, and, ere the sleepers could resist, slaughtered them in heaps, and carried off stores and artillery. A scene of unparalleled horrors ensued; and the situation of the French forces became quite desperate. Cold and famine preyed upon the troops; flights of ravens hovered over their line of march; and troops of dogs followed in the rear to consume their remains. The horses perished by thousands; the cannon and wagons were abandoned; and all military order was at an end.

With his army in this evil plight, Napoleon, on the 23d of November, had to cross the Beresina in presence of the enemy, and a scene, replete with horrors, occurred. The river, though covered with floating ice, was not yet frozen over, and rafts had to be constructed and launched under the enemy’s fire. Multitudes were engulfed in the waters; and the passage of the Beresina proved more fatal than the most sanguinary field.

On the 5th of December, Napoleon, mortified and sick at heart, abandoned the miserable wreck of his once magnificent army, and repaired to Paris.

Though the mighty Emperor had been defeated more by the elements than the Russian foe, the result of the campaign was to raise the renown of the Czar’s arms; and Alexander, to complete the work thus begun, called upon the other powers of Europe to vindicate their independence against his former ally. The invitation was not unavailing; for with the reverses of the French arms commenced the defection of Napoleon’s allies. A triple alliance was formed between Russia, Austria, and Prussia; the Emperor of the French was designated as the common enemy; the allied sovereigns undertook their campaign for the liberties of Europe, and their army marched triumphantly into Paris.

The Congress of Vienna assembled in 1814; and while Prussia was bent on the acquisition of Saxony, Alexander applied his energies to obtaining the duchy of Warsaw, which was still occupied by his troops. He was successful in his object; and what remained of Poland was handed over to the Czar, on condition of his ruling it by a special and constitutional government.

Ten years passed over; Alexander, in 1825, died of a fever at Taganrog; Constantine, the next son of the murdered Paul, a man of savage spirit, renounced his hereditary claim to the crown, and the vacant throne was ascended by his younger brother, Nicholas. That daring autocrat, within a year of his accession, undertook against Persia a war, which terminated in his favor; and, in 1828, he availed himself of the temporary weakness of Turkey to commence hostilities, to cross the Balkan mountains, and to impose upon the Sultan, among other hard terms, the Protectorate of the Danubian Principalities.

Meanwhile, the policy of Nicholas, and the personal character of the Grand Duke Constantine, rendered the condition of the Poles intolerable; a general insurrection took place in 1830; and the Czar, deeming that this outbreak released him from his engagements, determined upon the extirpation of Polish nationality. His army marched with that object into Poland; the nobles of the unhappy nation were exiled to Siberia; the patrician ladies were given as helpmates to the invading soldiers; and their infants were conveyed away to be educated with Russian ideas, and inspired with Russian sentiments. The constitution of Poland was then withdrawn; her laws were abrogated; and the ancient nation, over which John Sobieski had reigned, and for which Kosciusko had fought, was declared an integral part of an Empire that had been fostered into importance by the genius of Peter the Great, extended in its limits by the lawless appropriations of the second Catherine, and aggrandized by the unscrupulous ambition of her despotic descendants. The death of Nicholas took place in 1855, at the time when the combined armies of Turkey, England, and France, were besieging Sebastopol, the details of which are given in the preceding pages. He was succeeded by his son Alexander II.

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COLONIAL HISTORY

North America, with the exception of Mexico, was not colonized by Europeans so early as the southern part of the Continent. The discoveries of Cabot, A. D. 1497, had given England a valid claim to the whole coast from Labrador to Florida; but the country presented none of the allurements that had incited and rewarded the Spanish adventurers. Fertile and well wooded, indeed, intersected by noble rivers, and inclosing safe and capacious harbors and bays, it seemed a promising region for permanent settlements and agricultural industry, but offered only a faint prospect of wealth to be obtained from gold and silver mines, or from plundering the native inhabitants. A party of French Huguenots attempted to colonize Florida; but the Spaniards, who claimed the country, surprised the infant settlement, and massacred nearly all its inhabitants, not sparing even the women and children, A. D. 1564. This slaughter was soon avenged by a Frenchman, Dominique de Gourges, who captured Fort Carolina, where the victors had established themselves, and hanged all his prisoners; but he made no attempt to form another colony, and did not even disturb the little Spanish city of St. Augustine, which remained, but did not flourish, as the only permanent settlement of Europeans on the coast north of the Gulf of Mexico during the sixteenth century.

The English, under the direction of Sir Walter Raleigh and his half-brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, attempted to create a settlement on the coast of what was subsequently called North Carolina. Three parties of colonists were sent thither, A. D. 1583–1587, but they were few in number, and ill provided with necessaries; one returned, and the other two perished, either from starvation or the hostility of the natives. Early in the seventeenth century, the French, under de Monts and Champlain, explored the country around the Bay of Fundy and that bordering on the St. Lawrence, laying claim to Acadie (Nova Scotia) and Canada, which together were called New France. In 1609, the Dutch sent out Henry Hudson, who explored the American coast for a considerable distance, entered New York harbor, and sailed up the river which now bears his name. Stimulated by a feeling of rivalry with the French, the English renewed their attempts at colonization on a larger scale. James I granted the whole country, from Cape Fear to Passamaquoddy Bay, to two companies of merchants and adventurers. The southern portion, from the thirty-fourth to the forty-first degree of latitude, was given to the London Company; and the northern part, from the thirty-eighth to the forty-fifth degree, was to be colonized by the Plymouth Company.

Virginia. The first band of colonists sent out by the London Company, A. D. 1607, established themselves on a spot which they called Jamestown, on the James river, about fifty miles above its entrance into Chesapeake Bay. The direction of affairs had been given to a council, consisting of seven persons, nominated by the Company in England. John Smith, a military adventurer of great courage, enterprise, and sagacity, was one of them; and the incompetency of his colleagues soon becoming manifest, he gradually assumed the lead, and several times rescued the feeble settlements from the imminent perils of savage warfare and famine. Half of the emigrants perished during the first six months; and if the colony had not been fed by frequent supplies of food and additional settlers from England, the enterprise must soon have been abandoned. In spite of Smith’s remonstrances, the settlers wasted their time in seeking for gold and silver, instead of cultivating the ground; and they actually sent a vessel to England laden with dirt, in which glittering specks had been discovered, which they mistook for gold. Smith explored the country, and coasted the bay in an open boat, entering the principal rivers and inlets, and thus obtaining the requisite information for the construction of a chart, which was transmitted to England and published. In one of these expeditions, he fell into the hands of the savages, and was on the point of being put to death, when he was rescued by the chieftain’s daughter, Pocahontas, and after an imprisonment of a few weeks, was sent back to Jamestown. But the colony was soon deprived of his invaluable services; in 1609, he was severely injured by the accidental explosion of his powder bag, and was compelled to return to England for surgical aid. After his departure, the affairs of the colony again declined, and the settlers more than once determined to abandon the undertaking, and return home. But they were prevented by the seasonable arrival of ships, bringing fresh supplies and a reinforcement of men, whose broken fortunes in their native land made them eager to brave the perils of a desperate enterprise. Thus often rescued from the brink of ruin, the colony struggled on, till its members at last became inured to their novel situation, and acquired the habits of life which alone could meet its exigencies. Novel recruits were sent out from time to time to keep up their numbers. In 1619, ninety young women arrived, of irreproachable character, who were sold at the price of their passage, to become wives to the planters. Many cargoes of vagrants, thieves, and jail-birds also came, to serve as indented servants for a term of years, and afterwards to become free colonists. Then a more lasting impression was made on the future character and fortunes of the settlement by the introduction of twenty negro slaves, who were brought by a Dutch trading vessel, and readily purchased by the settlers. Tobacco had now become the staple product of the colony, and slaves were profitably employed in its cultivation.

The savages had occasionally given much trouble, and in 1622, they were nearly successful in a plot which they had formed for the entire destruction of the settlements. In one day, they killed three hundred and forty-seven of the whites. A furious war succeeded, in which the Indians, indeed, were defeated and driven back with great slaughter, so that they never became formidable again. But the colony had received a fearful blow, from which it recovered with slowness and difficulty. The number of settlements was reduced from eighty to eight, and a famine ensued that destroyed many lives. The first colonial assembly was called by Governor Yeardley in 1619, and two years afterwards, a special ordinance confirmed the right of holding such a local legislature.

The proceedings of the Company in England had now awakened the jealousy of the crown; and these misfortunes gave King James the pretext that he wanted for depriving them of their charter, and taking the government into his own hands. Of course, it was administered on the arbitrary principles which were then in favor at court. Complete legislative and executive power was given to a governor and council of twelve persons, all nominated by the crown; and this power was tyrannically exercised. Yet the General Assembly, though not formally authorized, was still permitted to meet, though it was much restricted in the exercise of its functions. At one time, in 1635, the patience of the settlers gave way, and they seized their governor, Sir John Harvey, and sent him a prisoner to England to answer for his misconduct. With the native obstinacy of his character, Charles I resented this act as savoring of audacity and rebellion, and sent back the obnoxious governor, with a fresh commission, under which he ruled more tyrannically than ever. Still, the prevailing sentiment in the colony was eminently loyal, and during the English Civil War, they took sides, as long as they durst, with the king, against the Parliament. Many of the settlers were decayed gentlemen and unportioned sons of noble families, in whose minds the prejudices of rank were rather heightened than diminished by the want of fortune. The Church of England was established by law, regular stipends being allotted to its ministers in every parish, and the preachers of any other persuasion were not allowed to exercise their functions. The English law of primogeniture and entail regulated the descent of property; and the wealthier colonists, directing the labor of many indented servants and slaves, lived apart on their plantations, affecting something of the state of a landed aristocracy. After the ruin of the king’s cause at home, in 1645, many of the disbanded cavaliers found refuge in Virginia, bringing with them their sentiment of chivalrous attachment to Church and King.

In 1671, Governor Berkeley estimated the population of the colony at 40,000, including 2,000 negro slaves, and 6,000 indented white servants. The character of his administration may be inferred from a communication made by him, this year, to the English Privy Council. ‘I thank God,’ he wrote, ‘there are no free schools or printing, and I hope we shall not have any these hundred years; for learning has brought disobedience, and heresy, and sects into the world, and printing has divulged them, and libels against the best government. God keep us from both!’ Yet a few years afterwards, discontent had become so general that a rebellion broke out, and for a few months the insurgents had entire control of the government. Nathaniel Bacon, a young lawyer, distinguished for his talents and activity, was the popular leader in this movement.

In the midst of his successes, Bacon was suddenly taken sick and died; and no proper person being found to take his place, the army was dispersed, and the insurrection abandoned. Berkeley punished the rebels with great rigor, some of their leaders being condemned and executed and others were sentenced to pay heavy fines. He then went to England, where, instead of the praise and rewards that he expected, he was severely censured for his cruelty. He died a few months afterwards, as it was reported, of chagrin. An act of general pardon and oblivion was sent out from England, and other mild and popular measures soon wiped out the memory of Bacon’s rebellion. Needy and covetous governors still provoked occasional discontent; but the spirit of the people was eminently loyal, so that they were tardy and reluctant to acknowledge the revolution of 1688, and only after repeated commands was a proclamation issued announcing the succession of William and Mary to the English throne.

Far different was the character of the emigrants who founded the New England Colonies, under grants from the Plymouth Company. These were Puritans of the straitest sect, Independents in their notions of Church government, and now fast verging toward republicanism, in consequence of their long continued opposition to the constituted authorities of Church and State at home. The intolerant spirit of the English hierarchy and the arbitrary proceedings of the court made their residence in England uncomfortable, if not perilous; and they looked to voluntary exile for deliverance. A company of them, under the Rev. John Robinson as pastor, and William Brewster as ruling elder, embarked for Holland in 1608, carrying their wives, children, and little property along with them. They were kindly received by the Dutch, who were Protestants, and they remained over ten years in peace at Leyden. But Puritans as they were, they were still Englishmen; they disliked the sound of a foreign language, and the prospect that their children would intermarry with the Dutch, and forget their English parentage and the customs of their forefathers. The greater part of them, therefore, determined to emigrate to America, and for this purpose, returned first to England, where they easily procured the promise of a grant of land from the London Company, as they intended to establish themselves within what were then the limits of Virginia. They sailed from Plymouth in the ship Mayflower, and after a tedious and stormy voyage of over two months, arrived at Cape Cod, nearly two degrees north of the place they had aimed at. The lateness of the season, however, the the fatigues of the voyage, and the perils of coasting along a shore which had been but imperfectly explored, preventing them from putting to sea again, they sought a spot for their settlement in that neighborhood. But as they were then without the limits of the Virginia Company, and the Crown had refused to grant them a charter, they deemed it necessary, before leaving the vessel, to sign an agreement, promising to submit to whatever ‘just and equal laws and ordinances might be thought convenient for the general good.’ They selected Plymouth, which offered a tolerable good harbor in the southwestern part of Massachusetts Bay, as a suitable place for the commencement of a colony; and on the 22d of December, 1620, the Pilgrims, as they might now well be termed, landed there, numbering only one hundred and one, including the women and children. John Carver was chosen the first governer, and Miles Standish their military leader, as they had some apprehensions of the savages. Divided into nineteen families, they immediately began to fell trees and construct houses, in which to find shelter against the rigors of winter. But their exposure was necessarily great, and they had but a slender stock of provisions and other necessaries. Sickness came upon them, and during the first five months, they lost more than half of their number.

One of their associates, who had been left behind in England, obtained for them a grant of land from the Company which was now incorporated, under a new charter, as ‘The Council established at Plymouth, in the County of Devon, (England,) for the Planting, Ruling, Ordering, and Governing of New England in America.’ This grant authorized the colonists to choose a governor, council, and general court, for the enactment and execution of laws. Strictly speaking, however, the Company had no right to give them any thing more than the property of the soil. A charter from the Crown was necessary to complete their political organization; and this they never obtained. But the necessity of the case compelled them to act as if they had received full powers; and their remoteness and insignificance prevented the authorities at home from questioning their right. The agreement which they had signed on board the Mayflower was the basis of their legislation; and for some time, all the settlers came together in a general assembly, to enact the necessary laws. Thus, in its origin, the colony was the purest democracy on earth. Time showed the inconveniences of such an arrangement, and the legislative power was then delegated to an Assembly, composed of representatives from the several towns. Land and other property were at first held in common, the Company in England being entitled to a specified share of the total profits. But this experiment turned out like the similar one in Virginia; finding that industry was discouraged by it, the Colonists succeeded in purchasing, on credit, the share of the London partners. A division was then made of the land and movable property, and henceforth each one reaped the fruits of his own toil. The people were united in religious faith, and wished not to be disturbed by theological controversies; so, when one Lyford, a clergyman of the Church of England, was sent out to them as a suitable pastor, in place of Robinson, who had died at Leyden, they refused him, and exercised their undoubted right of ownership of the soil, by expelling him, and two who adhered to him, Oldham and Conant, from their territory. These banished persons established themselves at Nantasket, just beyond the limits of the Plymouth colonists. The soil around Plymouth was thin and poor, and the people had brought but few worldly goods along with them; thus, the progress of the settlement was slow. Some of their old companions, who had been left behind in Holland, now came out to join them; and a few others, attracted by similarity of worship, and by the prospect of driving a little traffic in fish and peltry, were added to their number. But ten years after the landing at Plymouth, the population numbered only three hundred. Their territory, indeed, was but small, being bounded on the land side by a line drawn northerly from the mouth of Narraganset river, till it met one carried westerly from Cohasset rivulet, ‘at the uttermost limits of a place called Pocanoket.’

But encouraged by the growth of this colony, feeble as it was, the Council of New England proceeded to make lavish grants of their remaining lands, and to send out other bands of emigrants, taking little care to define the boundaries of the new grants, or to avoid ceding to one company or individual the very tract already bestowed upon another. This negligence was the cause of much subsequent dispute and difficulty. A few persons also established themselves at various points along the coast, who had no formal title to any land, but who were afterwards generally admitted to have an imperfect right, founded on occupancy and prescription. Some few fishing settlements were thus established; but their inhabitants had not the disposition to toil, the habits of order and self-denial, or the indomitable perseverance which characterized the Puritans. All their establishments were subsequently absorbed by the Massachusetts colony, which became the chief agent in the settlement of New England.

The persecution of all who would not conform to the Established Church still continuing in England, and king Charles having avowed his purpose to govern without a Parliament, many of the wealthier class of Puritans now determined to emigrate to America. A company was formed at the instigation of Mr. White, a clergyman of Dorchester; among its members were John Humphrey and Isaac Johnson, two brothers-in-law of the Earl of Lincoln, John Winthrop, a gentleman of landed property in Suffolk, Sir Richard Saltonstall, John Endicott, Thomas Dudley, William Coddington, Richard Bellingham, Matthew Cradock, and other merchants and lawyers of wealth and influence in London and some of the northern and midland counties. They obtained from the Council for New England a grant of a tract of land, bounded by two parallel lines running westward to the Pacific Ocean, one drawn three miles north of any part of the Merrimac river, and the other, three miles south of any portion of the Charles. Soon afterwards, their organization was completed by a charter from the Crown, which incorporated them under the title of the ‘Governor and Company of Massachusetts Bay in New England,’ with power to admit what new members or freemen they might choose. They were supposed to be a private trading corporation, resident in England, where they were to make laws and regulations for the government of their colony in America. A governor, deputy-governor, and eighteen assistants were to have the management of their affairs; and these officers were to be chosen, and all important laws enacted, at a ‘Great and General Court’ of all the freemen, to be held quarterly. A company of sixty or seventy persons, under John Endicott, were sent out in 1628, who commenced a settlement at Salem; and these were followed, the next year, by six ships, bringing about two hundred colonists, of whom many were indented servants, together with a stock of cattle and other necessaries. It was soon manifest, however, that a colony, to be prosperous, must have the management of its own affairs, without being obliged to wait for orders from a distance. John Winthrop and many other leading stockholders offered to emigrate, if they were allowed to carry the charter and the government along with them. The legality of such a measure was at least doubtful; but the urgency of the case removed all scruple, and the colonists probably hoped that the remoteness of their new home would screen their procedings from public notice. New officers were therefore chosen from those who were disposed to emigrate; and in 1630, a fleet of fifteen ships, equipped at an expense of £20,000, sailed from the Isle of Wight, having on board Winthrop and Dudley as governor and deputy-governor, together with most of the assistants, and a company of about one thousand persons. They began a settlement at Charlestown, but soon removed to the neighboring peninsula of Trimountain, which they named Boston, after the English town whence some of the chief emigrants came. The hardships of the first winter, which was a severe one, caused disease to break out among them, and over two hundred died, among whom were Isaac Johnson, and his wife, Arabella. But after this period, the order and industry which prevailed in the colony, the commencement of trade with Virginia and the Dutch at Manhattan (New York), and the rapid influx of settlers, driven away from England by the religious and political persecution which still raged there, laid the foundations of steady growth and permanent prosperity. During the first ten years after the settlement of Massachusetts, about twenty-five thousand persons left their native land to find a home in New England.

The government of the colony was theocratic in many of its features, modified at first by an aristocratic or patriarchal element, which was soon eliminated, however, by the force of circumstances, that set strongly towards republican institutions. The few men of wealth and consideration, who were the leaders of the emigration, naturally strove to retain the chief power and influence in their own hands, and to govern according to their notions of what religion and the word of God required; and in this attempt they were strongly seconded by the ministers of the churches. At first, the people, with the instinctive respect of Englishmen for rank and station, gave way to them, and conferred the whole power of legislation on the governor and the assistants, who were familiarly known as ‘the magistrates.’

Even a council for life at one time was instituted, but it continued only for a few years, and the freemen also resumed the power of enacting laws. Still, they were moderate in the exercise of their functions; and persons once chosen to the board of magistrates were usually reäppointed, no one being left out but for some extraordinary cause. Purity of faith and worship was the chief motive for establishing the colony. The people wished to be free, not only from persecution, but from the presence of other sects and from theological controversies. Only such persons were to be admitted to be freemen, or voters, as those who were already freemen should designate; and this privilege was soon confined by law to those who were members of the churches. But as there was little difference among them in point of religious opinion, and as most of the adult males, or at least, nearly all the heads of families, were church members, this exclusive privilege created no general discontent. The magistrates exercised their large powers resolutely to keep out heretics and schismatics, and to maintain religious worship and practice in all their purity. Those who did not agree with them were required to go elsewhere, and establish a colony for themselves. Roger Williams, and some followers of Mrs. Hutchinson, did so, and founded a new settlement in Rhode Island. Others took refuge in New Hampshire; but Massachusetts claimed the land there as a part of her own territory, and from 1640 to 1680, the claim was made good. A few Quakers gave great annoyance by their fanatical and outrageous conduct; they were once and again dismissed, with threats in case they returned. They did come again, and then three of them were hanged. The magistrates, on this occasion, published a defense of their conduct, dwelling especially on the case of Mary Dyre, who was a third comer, and had been once reprieved when already on the gallows, as a proof they desired, not the death, but the absence, of the Quakers. Some adherents of the Church of England, who had come out without invitation to join them, were summarily sent back to the mother country. Two hundred years ago, the principles of religious toleration were but little understood; yet as the Company owned the territory, and had emigrated for the avowed purpose of forming a religious community by themselves, it is perhaps harsh in us to charge them with intolerance. They had a right to expel intruders.

Of course, great severity of manners and punctiliousness of religious observances were enjoined. Various sumptuary laws were enacted; the Sabbath was observed with Jewish strictness; blasphemy, witchcraft, and adultery, were punished with death; slanderers were whipt, cropped, and banished. But except in these particulars, and a few others of no great importance, the Mosaic law was not established in the colony. The people had good sense enough to see that it was not adapted to the circumstances and the times. No restriction was imposed upon them except that contained in the Charter, that no laws should be made repugnant to the laws of England; and this was construed, very liberally, to mean that no part of the English law was in force there till it was expressly reenacted. At first the magistrates governed without any other rule than their own sense of right and their interpretation of the law of God. But the people becoming jealous of so large a discretion, a code, or ‘Body of Liberties,’ was established in 1641, consisting of one hundred articles, drawn up with singular brevity and clearness, embracing many of the best and most liberal provisions of the English Common Law, and, in some respects, in advance both of English and American law of the present day. This code became the basis of legislation, not only in Massachusetts, but throughout New England, the other colonies adopting many of its most important provisions. In one important respect, the Mosaic rule was followed in preference to the English law; the estates of persons dying without a will were divided equally among the children, except that the eldest son received a double share. This law, favoring the distribution rather than the aggregation of property, made the establishment of a territorial aristocracy impossible, kept up the idea of equality among the people, and tended strongly to the development of republican sentiments.

Another circumstance, which silently fostered the democratic spirit of the people, was the great extent of their territory in comparison with their numbers, and the disposition that has characterized them from that day to this, to spread themselves over the face of the country, instead of remaining together on one spot. When as yet they were only a few hundred in number, instead of seeking protection against the savages and other perils of the wilderness by union and concentration, they colonized a dozen or twenty distinct townships, the extremes of which were some thirty miles apart. Eight townships were represented in a General Court held only two years after Winthrop landed; and before the colony was ten years old, or contained in all more than 15,000 settlers, at least twenty distinct settlements were formed. But the most remarkable instance of this tendency to segregation took place as early as 1634, when Mr. Hooker and his whole church at Newtown petitioned for leave to remove to Connecticut, the avowed reason for this step being the want of pasturage for their cattle; and ‘it was alleged by Mr. Hooker as a fundamental error, that the towns were set so near to each other.’ The settlements being thus scattered, and the colony as a whole being imperfectly organized, each town was obliged from the first to direct its own expenditures and manage its own affairs. The inhabitants held town-meetings, levied taxes to provide for their common wants, chose executive officers, afterwards termed ‘selectmen,’ and in fact created a little republic nearly complete in organization. It is now generally admitted, that the tone of American politics and the general character of American institutions have been more controlled by the influences of the township-system of New England than by all other causes united.

In the main, also, there was great equality among the colonists in point of fortune and social position. Many English gentlemen and wealthy merchants, as we have seen, favored the emigration, and some embarked in it. But the happy and the powerful do not often go into exile, and the perils and hardships of a home in the wilderness prevented many persons of wealth from joining in the enterprise, and caused others to leave it after a brief sojourn in New England. Humphrey, Saltonstall, Vane and Vassal returned to their native land after a short stay, and the Johnsons died. The great bulk of the colonists were middling and lower classes of English society; very few were wealthy, nearly all were dependent on the labor of their hands. Equality of social claims was the natural basis of equality of political rights. There was a germ of republicanism in the colony from the outset,—​a natural tendency towards universal eligibility and universal suffrage.

The first care of the settlers of Massachusetts was to provide for universal education and worship. The several townships that were organized were so many distinct churches, which admitted their own members, chose their own pastors, and managed their own affairs. Each town, either by levying a tax or by voluntary contributions, provided buildings for public worship and salaries for their ministers. When Boston was but six years old, the General Court passed an order, appropriating a sum, equal to the amount raised by a year’s taxation to defray all the public expenditures of the colony, for the establishment of a college at Newtown; and two years afterwards, John Harvard, a clergyman of Charlestown, bequeathing half of his estate for the same object, Harvard College was founded. Free schools were established in several of the towns; and in 1649, a general system of popular education was established throughout the colony, each township being required to maintain a free school for reading and writing, and every town of a hundred householders a grammar school, ‘to fit youths for the university.’ The preamble of this law declares that the motive for passing it was to provide ‘that learning may not be buried in the grave of our fathers,’—​‘it being one chief project of that old deluder, Sathan, to keep men from the knowledge of the Scriptures; as in former times keeping them in an unknown tongue, so in these latter times by persuading men from the use of tongues.’ The grim Puritan of those days believed his child’s soul would be in danger if he were not enabled to read the Bible for himself; and thus care for general education naturally grew out of care for the interests of religion. As the democratic spirit spread among the people, they reclaimed the legislative authority for themselves; and a body of representatives, consisting of two or three delegates from each town, were united with ‘the magistrate’ for the purpose of enacting laws. At first, the representatives sat and voted in the same chamber with the assistants; but in 1644, a division was made, and the two classes afterwards formed separate houses of legislation.

During the first few years in the history of the settlement, the Indians had given no cause for alarm. Just before the arrival of the whites, a contagious disease had raged among the native tribes, nearly exterminating some of them, so that the territory seemed providentially left vacant for occupation by the English. But as the white settlements increased in number, the jealousy of the Indians was aroused; and in 1637, the Pequods, a tribe dwelling on the banks of what is now called the Thames river, Connecticut, began hostilities. But as they were yet very imperfectly provided with fire-arms, they formed but a contemptible enemy. A band of eighty men, under Captain Mason, were sent against them, who, with the aid of a few friendly Indians, attacked their palisadoed village in the gray of the morning, forced their way into it, set fire to the wigwams, and killed about six hundred of the savages. The next month, another band attacked the remainder of the tribe, who had taken refuge in a swamp, killed many of them, and took about two hundred prisoners, who were afterwards kept as slaves, a portion being sent to the West Indies to be sold. The few who escaped found a home among the Narraganset and Mohegan Indians, and the Pequod tribe ceased to exist.

To guard against the dangers apprehended not only from the Indians, but from the Dutch and the French, a confederacy was formed in 1643, between the four colonies of Masachusetts, Plymouth, Connecticut, and New Haven, to form rules for regulating intercourse with the savages, and to render mutual aid if a war should break out. In consequence of this union, the whites became more respected and feared by the native tribes, several of whom sought their alliance and protection. But in 1675, Philip of Mount Hope, a chief of the Wampanoags in Rhode Island, began hostilities, in which he was soon joined by nearly all the native tribes in New England. The Indians were now well supplied with fire-arms, and were expert in the arts of ambush and forest warfare, in which as yet the whites were very deficient. A fearful contest ensued, which brought all the white settlements to the verge of destruction. It lasted nearly a year, in the course of which, upwards of two thousand Indians were killed or taken, and some of the New England tribes were exterminated. The whites suffered terribly; twelve or thirteen of their towns were entirely ruined, six hundred houses had been burned, and about six hundred men had fallen in battle. No assistance was received from England, and the expenses of the war burdened Massachusetts with a heavy debt. But henceforward, no great danger was apprehended from the Indians, except when they acted as allies of the French.

Frequent complaints were made to the Privy Council in England, that the acts of trade were generally disregarded by Massachusetts, and that the conduct and laws of the colony in many other respects were in violation of the charter and subversive of the authority of the crown. Commissioners were sent out to make inquiries respecting these subjects of complaint. But the breach was only widened by this measure, as the commissioners were captious and insolent in their language and conduct, and the General Court was obstinate and not over respectful. Charles II, had just triumphed after a long contest with the popular party at home, had taken away the franchises of the city of London, and confiscated the charters of nearly all the boroughs in the realm, was in no humor to be bearded by a few daring sectaries in New England. Legal proceedings were instituted, and before Massachusetts could engage counsel in her defense, judgment was entered by default, and the charter declared to be forfeited. The government of the colony was thus thrown entirely into the hands of the king; and James II, who had now come to the throne, appointed Sir Edmund Andros to be governor of all New England, the charters of the other colonies being either forfeited or in abeyance. The popular legislative assemblies were dissolved, and Sir Edmund, with authority to appoint and remove the members of his council at pleasure, enacted laws and governed as he saw fit. For more than two years, his yoke was heavy upon the necks of the people. Then came a rumor that a revolution had taken place in England, and that the Prince of Orange already was, or would soon be, on the throne, in place of the deposed James II; and without waiting to learn whether it was any thing more than a rumor, the inhabitants of Boston seized their arms, imprisoned Andros and his chief adherents, and reinstated their beloved charter government, with the venerable Simon Bradstreet at its head, April, 1689. Then ensued a negotiation with the government of William and Mary, for the restoration of the old charter. But the king and his ministers were determined to strengthen the royal prerogative, and they would only offer a new charter, far less liberal in its provisions than the old one, with the significant intimation that the colony might take that or none. Finding that they would otherwise be governed at the royal pleasure, the people very reluctantly accepted the new instrument, by which Plymouth and Maine were united to Massachusetts, and the appointment of the governor, secretary, and all admiralty officers was reserved to the crown. The governor might convoke and adjourn the General Court at pleasure; he had a negative upon the election of counsellors and the enactment of laws, and a right to nominate all judges and military officers. The laws were to be transmitted to England, even after he had sanctioned them; and if disapproved by the king within three years from the time of their enactment, they became void. The right of suffrage was no longer confined to church members, but was given to all who had 40 shillings income from freehold property, or 40 pounds of personal estate.

The first royal governor appointed was Sir William Phips, whose administration was distinguished only by the unhappy popular delusion, usually called the Salem Witchcraft, A. D. 1692. Some children were, or pretended to be, thrown into convulsions; and they accused certain persons of bewitching them. The mania spread; others declared that they were afflicted, pinched, and bruised, and when the witnesses and the accused were confronted in open court, the former seemed to be thrown into an agony and charged the latter with tormenting them by diabolical means. Every one against whom they ‘cried out’ was arrested, and the prisons were soon filled. Some weak-minded persons among the prisoners were persuaded or terrified into a confession of guilt, and then bore witness against others; and upon this accumulation of evidence, many were convicted. Twenty persons were hanged, among whom was Mr. Burroughs, a clergyman; and one old man, aged eighty years, was pressed to death. Many others were cried out against, and fled for their lives. At last, the extravagance of the evil began to work its cure. The witnesses accused some persons who stood so high in character and station, that the belief even of the credulous mob was shocked. A reaction took place, juries refused to convict, the jails were emptied, and some of the judges and those who had been active in the prosecutions made a public profession of their errors and their penitence.

Having sketched the history of Virginia, Plymouth, and Massachusetts, during the seventeenth century, a few words must suffice for the other Colonies. Roger Williams and some other religious exiles from Massachusetts, colonized Rhode Island in 1638, having purchased the land of the Narraganset Indians. They obtained a patent from the Long Parliament six years afterwards, and in 1663, Charles II granted them a very liberal charter, under which they chose their own officers and enacted their own laws with almost as much freedom as if they had been an independent republic. By the influence of Williams, perfect religious toleration was established in this Colony, men being held responsible for their religious opinions and practice only to their God. The territory of Connecticut was granted, in 1630, to the Earl of Warwick, who soon assigned his right to Lord Say and Seale, Lord Brook, and others. Several settlements were formed on the Connecticut river, in 1635–6, by Mr. Hooker and other emigrants from Massachusetts, who at first acknowledged the authority of the Colony they had just left, but soon established a government for themselves, modeled on that of Massachusetts. Hartford was their chief town. About the same time, Lord Say and Seale with his associates sent over John Winthrop the younger, with instructions to build a fort at the mouth of the Connecticut, and erect buildings to accommodate such settlers as might come thither. This was the origin of Saybrook. In 1637, Mr. Davenport, with a company of emigrants, some of them men of wealth, arrived in New England, and after some hesitation as to the choice of a place, they founded a settlement at New Haven. They were rigid Puritans, who wished to establish a community conforming in all things to their peculiar principles. They admitted only church members to be freemen, and resolved that the Word of God should be the only rule in their administration. The Dutch laid claim to the whole country, and the dispute between them and the English settlers was more than once on the verge of breaking out into open war. Charles II, soon after his restoration, granted to Connecticut a charter quite as liberal as that given to Rhode Island; but as this instrument brought together the two distinct settlements of Hartford and New Haven, the people of the latter place were very reluctant to accept it, and only yielded, after some years’ delay, to the fear that a general governor might be sent out from England to rule them. From the period of this union, 1665, the progress of the Colony was steady and prosperous. The territory of New Hampshire was granted by the Plymouth Company to Capt. John Mason, in 1629. But few settlements were formed under his management, principally by fishermen and exiles from Massachusetts, who remained for some time without any government but such as they established for themselves. Exeter, Dover, and Portsmouth, then called Strawberry Bank, were the only towns that contained many inhabitants. In 1641, they voluntarily placed themselves under the protection of Massachusetts, who had always claimed the land, and who continued to govern them till 1679, when, by a decree of the king in council, New Hampshire was made a separate province, to be governed by a President and Council, appointed by the king, and a House of Representatives elected by the people. Frequent disputes ensued, both with their rulers, and with Mason and his heirs respecting the titles to their lands. But after the Revolution of 1688, most of these controversies were quieted, and excepting frequent hostilities with the Indians, the people prospered. Maine was originally granted to Sir Ferdinando Gorges, and was purchased of his heirs, in 1677, by Massachusetts, for £1,200, it having been governed by that Colony for many years previous, under a disputed title. The controversy ending with this purchase, Maine remained a part of Massachusetts till a very recent period.

New York. The Dutch, founding on the explorations of Henry Hudson a claim to the Hudson river and an indefinite extent of territory through which it flows, built some fortified trading posts near its mouth as early as 1613. They also explored the northern coast of Long Island Sound, and both shores of Delaware Bay; and on the strength of these discoveries, an Amsterdam company obtained from the States General an exclusive grant to trade along the coast between the 40th and 45th degrees of latitude, a region by them called New Netherland. The English never allowed their claim, which only became important when, in 1621, it passed into the hands of the Dutch West India Company, a wealthy association with large privileges, and capable of conducting extensive operations. Under their direction, Fort Orange was built where Albany now stands; and in 1626, the island of Manhattan was purchased of the Indians, and Fort Amsterdam erected at its southern extremity. As yet, traffic with the savages in peltry was the only object of these establishments; but in 1629, a scheme was matured for forming Dutch settlements in the country. Extensive grants of land were offered to any member of the Company, who, under the name of Patroon, should establish a colony of at least fifty persons upon it; and as much land as they could cultivate was offered to any free settlers who should remove thither at their own expense. Under these offers, some of the most inviting lands were taken up; but the progress of colonization was slow, agriculture being made secondary to trade with the Indians. A port was established on the Connecticut, near Hartford, which soon led to a sharp dispute with the English settlers in that region. The Swedes also came into collision with the Dutch, by attempting, under the sanction of the renowned Gustavus Adolphus, to found a settlement and trading post on the west shore of Delaware Bay, a region claimed by the Hollanders. The Swedes bought some land of the Indians, and built a fort called Christina,—​the germ of the Colony of New Sweden, now the State of Delaware. The infant settlement was prudently managed, and might in a few years have become prosperous, if the Dutch had not attacked it, in 1655, with a force of six hundred men, who captured all the Swedish posts, and the region was again absorbed into New Netherland.

A destructive Indian war was added to the other embarassments of the Dutch. The latter showed themselves as great savages as their red opponents, who nearly overmatched them, and destroyed many of their most flourishing ‘boweries,’ or plantations. The people were harshly governed, being allowed no voice in the administration, and they complained that ‘under a king they could not be worse treated.’ The English were determined to monopolize the coast, and in 1664, Charles II granted to his brother a large region, including New Netherland, to be called, in future, New York. An expedition of six hundred men, under Sir Robert Nicholls, was fitted out to take possession; and so many English were now settled in the Colony, the Dutch also being lukewarm towards their own government, that no opposition was offered. Liberal terms of capitulation were granted, and the territory was annexed without a blow to the domain of England. No popular representation in the government was allowed till 1684, the Duke of York appointing a governor who reigned arbitrarily; and even after that period, the administration continued to be distasteful to the people. When the news of the revolution in 1688 arrived, the inhabitants of New York rose in arms, like their brethren of Boston, and under the guidance of Jacob Leisler, a wealthy German merchant, deposed the former authorities of the place, and instituted a government of their own. The colony remained under Leisler’s rule till March, 1691, when Col. Slaughter arrived, with a commission as governor, and his agent demanded peremptorily the surrender of the fort. Leisler hesitated and delayed, and when at last he did obey, he was seized, together with his son-in-law, Milbourne, tried for rebellion, and executed. This proceeding was a harsh and hasty one; and the king subsequently restored their confiscated estates to their heirs, and allowed their bodies to be taken up and reinterred with pomp, while the people cherished their memory with affection and respect.

Maryland. George Calvert, Lord Baltimore, a Roman Catholic by religion, obtained from Charles I, in 1630, a grant of the then uninhabited shores of Chesapeake Bay, as an asylum for the persecuted Papists. The charter, which secured liberty of conscience, and equal privileges to the members of all Christian sects, was not issued until after this lord’s death, and was then given to Cecil, his eldest son and heir. He sent out his brother, Leonard Calvert, as governor, in 1633, with about two hundred emigrants, mostly Roman Catholics, and a settlement was formed at St. Mary’s, the new colony being called Maryland, in honor of queen Henrietta Maria. The proprietary had full power to enact all necessary laws, not repugnant to the laws of England, and not without the advice and approbation of the freemen of the province or their representatives;—​this being the first provision in any colonial charter for giving a legislative power to the people. The province was wisely and moderately governed, liberal grants of land being offered to all comers, to be held by the payment of a quit rent to the proprietor. Baltimore did not wish to shut out heretics from his colony; Puritans and Church of England men were invited to come, under a promise of enjoying equal privileges with the Catholics; thus Maryland became a general asylum for the persecuted of all sects. We are not surprised to learn, therefore, that, before Lord Baltimore’s death in 1676, he was in receipt of a considerable income from the province, which then contained about sixteen thousand inhabitants, most of whom were Protestants. The people wisely sought support from agriculture rather than mining and trade. Yet they did not pass through the time of the Civil War and the domination of the Long Parliament without annoyances and contests. During this period, of course, Lord Baltimore’s principles were not in favor, and his colony was regarded with a jealous eye. William Clayborne had obtained a royal license to trade in all those parts, and he and his associates denied the legality of the Maryland grant. The Parliament sent out commissioners who displaced the officers of the proprietary, and put the government into the hands of the Puritans, who soon passed an act that excluded papists and prelatists from the benefit of the act of toleration. A civil war at one time raged in the colony, Roundheads and Cavaliers being opposed to each other, as in the mother land. But with the restoration of Charles II, these troubles ceased, and the prosperity of the settlement for a long period suffered but little interruption. Yet an order was passed in 1681, for intrusting all offices to Protestants, so that the Catholics were disfranchised a second time in the colony they had founded.

The Carolinas. The territory on the coast south of Virginia, extending nominally as far south as St. Augustine, was granted, in 1663, to the great Lord Clarendon, the Earl of Shaftesbury, and six other eminent individuals. The whole region was to constitute one province, under the name of Carolina, the proprietors receiving, together with the grant of the land, ample powers of government. But a settlement had already been formed near Albemarle Sound by some religious exiles from Virginia, and another one near the mouth of Cape Fear river, by some adventurers from New England, afterwards reinforced by a band of emigrants from Barbadoes. In 1670, three ships were fitted out with colonists from England, under the command of William Sayle, who formed a settlement at Port Royal, which he soon removed to the peninsula at the mouth of the Ashley and the Cooper rivers, giving to the town that he founded there the name of Charleston. As this place was remote from Albemarle, it obtained a separate government, and thus were created the two colonies of North and South Carolina. The proprietors gave public assurance that the settlers should enjoy unrestricted religious liberty, and that their representatives should have a voice in the enactment of laws. Unluckily they employed the celebrated philosopher, John Locke, to devise a scheme of government for the colony; and he gave them, under the name of the ‘Grand Model,’ the most complicated and fanciful system that the wit of man ever contrived, and which was a perpetual source of trouble and confusion for the quarter of a century during which it was in partial operation. It established two orders of nobility, landgraves and caciques; it assigned two fifths of the land for seignories, baronies, and manors, to be cultivated by a race of tenants attached to the soil, and the remaining three fifths were allotted to private freeholders; and it erected a formidable bureaucracy, with officers and titles enough for a populous kingdom of the Old World. This rickety system could never be put into full operation, and in 1693, it was entirely abrogated. The motley population was swelled by two ship-loads of Dutch emigrants from New York, and by a cargo of slaves from Barbadoes. After the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, many Huguenots came to South Carolina, and settled along the Santee; they had been preceded by some Presbyterian settlers from the north of Ireland, and by a Scotch colony led by lord Cardross. Religious toleration and the prospect of obtaining land on easy terms were the lures which drew so many different classes of immigrants. The population thus formed did not show themselves very tractable. They persisted in keeping up an illegal traffic with New England, they grumbled at paying quit rent to the proprietaries, and they quarreled with the arbitrary and rapacious governors who were sent to rule over them. But in spite of these interruptions, the two colonies prospered, advancing steadily, though not rapidly, both in population and wealth.

New Jersey. The territory between the Delaware and Hudson rivers, being included in the surrender by the Dutch to the English in 1664, was granted by the duke of York, under the name of New Jersey, to lord Berkeley and Sir George Carteret. They sent over Philip Carteret as governor, with a liberal constitution for the new colony, and bountiful offers of land to all settlers who would come thither. Lord Berkeley sold his right, after he had held it ten years, to a company of Quakers, who, wishing to govern separately a region which might be an asylum for the persecuted of their sect, made an agreement with Carteret, for the partition of the territory. The western portion was assigned to them, the eastern to Carteret. A large company, consisting principally of Quakers, then came from England, and settled in Burlington and its neighborhood, ample privileges being secured to them by a new constitution. A dispute ensued with the duke of York respecting the title to their lands, as he pretended that, under a new patent which he had obtained from the crown, his original rights were restored. But the commissioners in England, to whom the matter was referred, adjudged his claim to be invalid, and new settlers continuing to arrive, the colony became very prosperous. East Jersey, also, in 1682, was sold by the heirs of Carteret to William Penn and twenty-three associates, mostly Quakers, who appointed Robert Barclay governor, and endeavored to attract emigrants thither. Many of the Scottish Covenanters, now suffering a deplorable persecution under Lauderdale and Claverhouse, fled from their native land, and found a pleasant and safe asylum in East Jersey. The numerous proprietors, weary of quarreling with each other and with the people, surrendered their rights to the crown in 1702; and the two divisions united under one government.

Pennsylvania. Another Quaker colony was established, on a larger scale, by the celebrated William Penn, a man of great ability and integrity, resolute in purpose and energetic in conduct, a keen controversialist, and one who displayed on many occasions more shrewdness, knowledge of the world, and practical talent than are often found united with a fervor and sincerity of religious belief which had the appearance of an unruly fanaticism. The Quakers, indeed, while preserving with great steadfastness most of their inoffensive external peculiarities, had quietly undergone a considerable change in the manner and spirit of their proceedings,—​a change attributable in some degree to the influence of Penn himself. They were no longer the wild and extravagant sectaries, whose outrageous conduct, twenty years before, had troubled the peace of Massachusetts. Their manners had become quiet and discreet, and though they remained fearless of persecution, they no longer courted it. In consideration of the services of his father, a distinguished admiral, Penn obtained from Charles II, in 1681, a grant of the territory on the west bank of the river Delaware, extending five degrees in longitude, and bounded by the 40th and 43d parallels of latitude; and the king insisted on naming it Pennsylvania. The charter gave him the absolute property of the soil and ample powers of government, but required the advice and consent of the freemen of the province for the enactment of laws. The sturdy and independent spirit of the New England colonies having taught the crown lawyers a lesson of caution in drawing up colonial charters, it was stipulated in this case that the king might negative any enactment of the assembly, that parliament might levy taxes, and that an appeal might be made to the crown from the decisions of the courts of justice.

Acting under this charter, Penn drew up a very liberal ‘Frame of Government,’ and also published a body of laws that had been examined and approved by a company of proposed emigrants in England. He also advertised the lands for sale, asking forty shillings, besides a perpetual quitrent of one shilling, for every hundred acres. Unlimited freedom of conscience, and the right to be governed by laws enacted by themselves, were secured to the people. As the terms were liberal, and the advantages of the territory, in respect to climate, situation, fertility of the soil, and the friendly disposition of the neighboring Indians, were considerable, a crowd of emigrants presented themselves, comprising many Quakers and a number from Holland and Germany. The Duke of York, afterwards James II, with whom Penn was high in favor, made over to him all his own right to the three lower counties on the Delaware, first peopled by the Swedes, which had lately been governed as an appendage to the Duke’s province of New York. These counties belonged geographically rather to Pennsylvania than New York, and possession of them was important for the new colony, as they already contained about 3,000 inhabitants, Swedes, Finns, and Dutch, steady and industrious in their habits, and inured to their situation. Besides these, a number of Swedish, Dutch, and English settlers were already established in other portions of the territory, by whom the new government was favorably received. William Markham, one of Penn’s kinsmen, was sent out in 1681, with three ships and about three hundred emigrants, bearing a plan of the city which was to be founded at the confluence of the Schuylkill with the Delaware, and a very friendly message to the Indians, whose good will the new proprietor was anxious to conciliate. Penn himself came out the next year, in the course of which twenty-three vessels arrived laden with goods and emigrants. He held a friendly conference with the savages, under a large elm at Kensington, which afterwards became an object of much curiosity and respect, as marking the site of this famous interview. A treaty was made by which the Indians sold their lands on terms satisfactory to them, and stipulated to maintain peace and friendship, which promise was long religiously observed. The savages named him Onas, and though they gave the same title to the subsequent governors of the colony, they always referred to him as the great and good Onas. After laying out the new city of Philadelphia, so called from the spirit of brotherly love which was to animate its inhabitants, and holding a conference with Lord Baltimore about the disputed boundary between Delaware and Pennsylvania, Penn returned, in 1684, to England. He did not visit America again till 1699, and then made but a short stay. The progress of the new province was as rapid as its commencement had been auspicious. In 1684, it contained twenty settled townships and seven thousand inhabitants; and not many years afterwards, the population was estimated at thirty thousand. Some of the laws proposed by Penn and adopted by the Assembly bore the imprint of his quaint and benevolent disposition. To prevent law-suits, three arbitrators were to be appointed by the county courts, to hear and determine small controversies; children were to be taught some useful trade, to the end that none might be idle; agents who wronged their employers should make restitution and one-third over; and the property of intestates was to be divided equally among the children, except that the eldest son should receive a double share.

Georgia was founded in 1732, under a plan formed by General Oglethorpe and some other benevolent gentlemen, in order to establish a place of refuge for poor debtors and other indigent persons from Great Britain, and for persecuted Protestants from all nations. A grant was obtained from the king of the unoccupied territory on the right bank of the Savannah river, the land to be apportioned gratuitously among the settlers, charitable donations being made to defray the expense of transporting them across the Atlantic, and supporting them during the first season. Funds were freely contributed for this generous purpose, under the hope that the measure would reduce the poor rates in England, and empty the workhouses and debtors’ jails. But the class of persons thus sent out were very unfit for the work of creating a new settlement and subduing the wilderness. They were chiefly broken-down tradesmen and impoverished debauchees; while sailors, agriculturists, and laborers from the country were needed. A company of persecuted Lutherans from Salzburg, and one of Scotch Highlanders, who settled respectively the towns of Ebenezer and New Inverness, formed industrious and thriving colonists. Oglethorpe brought over the first band of emigrants, and founded the city of Savannah. The colony being regarded as in a state of pupilage, its affairs were administered, for the first twenty years, by a board of trustees, nominated in the charter, who were to appoint their associates and successors, and had the exclusive right of legislation. The generous motto on their official seal, non sibi, sed aliis, (not for themselves, but for others,) showed the benevolent purposes with which they acted. Some of their measures were wise, others were preposterous. They strictly forbade the introduction of negro slaves; the use of rum was prohibited; no grant of land was to exceed five hundred acres; the land was not to be sold or devised by the holders, but was to descend to male children only, and in case of the failure of such heirs, was to revert to the trustees. But these laws did not long remain in force; slavery was introduced from the neighboring province of Carolina; females were allowed to inherit, and the land became subject to the same regulations as other property. So long as the colony was managed by trustees, and considered as an object of charity, it languished, and large sums were expended upon it in vain. At last, the government was abandoned to the crown, its institutions were assimilated to those of the other colonies, and it then had a steady and prosperous growth. The Methodists and Moravians were numerous in Georgia, two renowned preachers of the former denomination, Wesley and Whitefield, residing in it for several years.

It is apparent from this review, that the English colonies in North America, with the exception of Virginia and New York, were founded and peopled chiefly by religious exiles. The English Puritans were most numerous in New England, the Quakers in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, the Roman Catholics in Maryland, Scotch Presbyterians, French Huguenots and Methodists in the south, and German Lutherans in Pennsylvania and elsewhere. Earnestness, sobriety, an independent spirit, and a determined hatred of oppression thus characterized the people from the beginning. Whatever emigrants came out solely in quest of wealth were soon disabused of their error, and either returned to the Old World, or learned to labor and to endure in their new home. Property was very evenly distributed, and there were no marked inequalities of rank or social position. Protected by their feebleness and insignificance in the outset, and by their distance from the mother country, the colonists were, in the main, allowed to enact their own laws, and manage their own affairs. Without any marked purpose of deviating from the policy, or shaking off the yoke, of England, they were, from the commencement, semi-republican and semi-independent. Disciplined by privation, exile, and peril, thrown on their own resources, governing themselves, their situation developed in them the elements of a thoughtful, vigorous, and resolute character. After they had overcome the first difficulties and obstructions in the way of founding a new home in the wilderness, their habits of endurance, industry, and frugality soon gave prosperity to their undertakings. Agriculture and commerce flourished, and they increased rapidly in population and wealth. They were no longer the feeble dependencies of a remote power; they could boast that they had laid the foundations of a great empire.

CONTEST OF THE ENGLISH WITH THE FRENCH FOR THE POSSESSION OF NORTH AMERICA.

The English revolution, which placed William III on the throne, while it freed the colonies from the oppressions they endured during the reign of his predecessor, involved them in the calamities of the war between France and England, which lasted from 1690 to the peace of Ryswick in 1697. The French in Canada directed an expedition against the English colonies, instigating the Indians to join them in their hostilities. In return, an armament was fitted out by Massachusetts for the invasion of the French settlements. Port Royal in Nova Scotia was taken. A second expedition was undertaken by the colonies of New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts, for the reduction of Montreal and Quebec. It failed in its object, and had the effect of producing dissatisfaction among the Indian tribes in New York, who were the allies of the English. This war, commonly called King William’s war, was marked by the most savage atrocities on the part of the French and Indians.

Scarcely had the colonies begun to recover from this war, when in 1702 they were plunged into another with the French, Indians, and Spaniards, commonly called Queen Anne’s war, arising from disputes about the boundaries, which had been left unsettled at the peace of Ryswick. The colonies of Massachusetts and New Hampshire were the chief sufferers, being most exposed to the devastating and murderous incursions of the French and Indians from Canada. Several expeditions were sent into Canada; but the only success that attended the English arms was the taking again of Port Royal, which had been restored to the French at the close of the former war. It was now named Annapolis. The peace of Utrecht, in 1713, put an end to the war in the northern colonies; but South Carolina continued to be annoyed for some time by the Indians. By the treaty of Utrecht, France ceded Newfoundland and Nova Scotia to England.

In 1744, England again declared war against France and Spain, which again involved the colonies in hostilities with the enemies of the mother-country and with their Indian allies. The principal event of this war, in America, was the capture of Louisburg from the French by forces from New England. The treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748 again gave peace to the colonies. Prisoners were to be released on both sides without ransom, and all conquests to be mutually restored.

This war was extremely disastrous to the colonies. Many lives were lost; the growth of population was checked; great losses were sustained in the commercial interests of the country; and finally a burdensome debt of several millions had been incurred to defray the expenses of the war. With the return of peace, however, commerce revived; the settlements began to extend, and public credit was restored.

But only a brief interval of repose was allowed to the colonies. In 1756, eight years from the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, Great Britain again declared war against France, on the ground of the encroachments of the French upon the English territories in America.

Some years previous to this war the French had commenced a chain of posts, designed to extend from the head of the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi, with a view to maintain a communication between their northern possessions and Louisiana.

In 1750, the English government granted a large tract of land on the Ohio river to a company called the Ohio company, formed for the purpose of settling the country, and carrying on a trade in furs with the Indians. The French governor of Canada, apprehending both the loss of the fur-trade and the interruption of his communications with Louisiana, claimed the whole country between the Ohio and the Alleghanies, and prohibited the further encroachments of the English. He also opened a new communication between Lake Erie and the Ohio, and stationed troops at posts along the line. The Ohio company, thus threatened in their trade, persuaded Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia, in 1753, to send a remonstrance to the French commandant. George Washington was the bearer. The commandant returned for answer that he had taken possession of the country by order of the governor-general of Canada, whose orders alone he could regard.

The British government, on learning the claim set up by the French, directed the Virginians to resist it by force. In 1754, an expedition was conducted against the French by Washington; but the superior force of the French obliged him to capitulate, with the privilege of returning with his troops to Virginia. This was properly the commencement of what is commonly styled the French war, although the formal declaration was not yet made.

In the meantime, the British government recommended the colonies to unite for their common defense. A convention of delegates from all of the northern colonies accordingly met at Albany in 1754, and adopted a plan of union: but it was rejected, both by the provincial assemblies and by the home government: by the former because it gave too much power to the crown, and by the latter because it gave too little.

In the spring of 1755, vigorous preparations were made for carrying on the war. An expedition was sent against Nova Scotia, which met with entire success: the colonial forces, with trifling loss, subdued the French, and gained complete and permanent possession of the whole country.

An expedition under General Braddock, directed against the French on the Ohio, was unfortunate. Owing to the arrogance and rashness of the commander, the British troops were surprised and defeated with great loss by a very inferior force of French and Indians. General Braddock was mortally wounded, and the conduct of the retreat devolved on Washington, who was in command of the colonial militia, and by whom the army was saved from total destruction.

The American arms were more successful in the north. The French were signally defeated on the borders of Lake George, and their commander, Baron Dieskau, was mortally wounded. The moral effect of this victory, following within a few weeks the discomfiture of Braddock, was very great and salutary in its influence upon the colonies.

In the year, 1756, war was formally declared between Great Britain and France; and in Europe began what is called the seven years’ war, in which Prussia was united with England against France. In America the campaign of 1756 was very disastrous to the colonists; they were unable even to attempt gaining of Niagara and Crown Point, places of great importance in the hands of the French, and the reduction of which was in the plan of operations. The French, under Montcalm, took Fort Oswego, thus gaining entire command of the Lakes Ontario and Erie, besides inflicting upon the English a very severe loss, amounting to sixteen hundred men made prisoners, one hundred and twenty cannon, with fourteen mortars, two sloops-of-war, and two hundred bateaux.

The British government made great preparations for the campaign of 1757. A large force was destined for the reduction of Louisburg; but the indecision and incapacity of Lord Loudon, the commander-in-chief, caused the expedition to be abandoned. Meantime, Montcalm, the French commander, besieged and took Fort William Henry, on Lake George, after a most spirited defense by Colonel Munroe. The English troops, after being admitted to honorable capitulation, were treacherously massacred by the Indians attached to Montcalm’s army.

The campaign of 1758 was more prosperous. Lord Chatham had now become prime minister, and infused new energy into the prosecution of the war. In answer to a call made by him upon the colonies, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Hampshire, united and raised fifteen thousand men. The tide of success now turned in favor of the English. Three expeditions had been planned: one against Louisburg, another against Ticonderoga, and the third against Fort du Quesne on the Ohio. Louisburg was taken, with great loss to the French in prisoners, ships, and munitions of war. Fort du Quesne was abandoned by the French, taken possession of by the English, and named Pittsburgh. The expedition against Ticonderoga failed, but the failure was compensated by the capture of Fort Frontinac, an important fortress at the outlet of Lake Ontario.

The campaign of 1759 commenced with a nearly simultaneous attack upon all the French strongholds in Canada, namely, Ticonderoga, Crown Point, Niagara, and Quebec. One division of the army, under General Amherst, the commander-in-chief, proceeded against Ticonderoga and Crown Point, which were successively taken. Another division, under General Prideaux, advanced and took Niagara. General Wolfe was no less successful in the great enterprise of conquering Quebec. The French, under Montcalm, were defeated on the plains of Abraham, and Quebec fell into the hands of the British. General Wolfe died upon the field of battle.

In 1760, the French made an unsucessful attempt to recover Quebec. In less than a year from the capture of that city, Montreal, Detroit, and all other places in the possession of the French, were surrendered to the British, and the conquest of Canada was completed.

By the treaty of peace definitively concluded at Paris in 1763, Nova Scotia, Canada, Cape Breton, and all other islands in the gulf and river St. Lawrence, were ceded to the British crown.

The protracted contest with the French and the Indians being brought to a close by the complete triumph of the English, the American Colonies were seemingly in the full tide of prosperity. The great exertions they had made during the last war had taught them the secret of their strength; that war had cost them, it was computed, about 30,000 lives and over sixteen millions of dollars, of which only five millions were repaid by the British ministry. Immigration rapidly increased, and the vast forest in the interior began to be explored by those who were in search of a new home. The Delaware and Hudson rivers were crossed by a thronging multitude, the Alleghanies were surmounted, and white settlements were formed upon the upper tributaries of the Ohio. No longer hemmed in, as with a ring of iron, by the French and the savages, the internal principle of expansion, which has been at work ever since, received its first free development, and carried the limits of civilization every year farther west. Trade flourished on the sea-coast; Boston had long been distinguished for enterprising traffic, and Newport, New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore were rising rapidly in commercial importance. Printing presses and newspapers, schools and colleges, flourished, though the literature of the Colonies as yet existed only in the humble form of sermons. Yet the metaphysical writings of Jonathan Edwards slowly acquired a European reputation, and the fame of Dr. Franklin was carried, by his brilliant discoveries in electricity, to the bounds of the civilized world.

THE WAR OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE.

But the prosperity of America was now to receive a sudden check, and a contest to begin, more important to her and more momentous in its consequences, than any which the world had ever witnessed. England was oppressed by a heavy debt, which had been more than doubled by the heavy expenses of the late war, and the people were overburdened with taxes. In an evil hour, it occurred to the Chancellor of the Exchequer that this pressure might be lightened, if the American Colonies could be made to contribute to the general expenses of the empire.

Mr. Grenville introduced into parliament his bill for imposing a stamp tax on the American Colonies, and it became a law with little opposition February 6th, 1765. Stamped papers, upon which a considerable impost was to be paid, were required for all judicial proceedings, clearances at the custom-house, bills of lading, and even the diplomas granted by seminaries of learning. The law was not to take effect for about seven or eight months after its passage. The news that the bill had become a law arrived in Boston early in April; and the effect was as if a cannon had been fired so near the ears of the people that they were all stunned by the explosion. They seemed stupefied at first; there was no popular outbreak, no meeting for the passage of violent resolutions. But it was the lull which precedes, and not that which follows, the tempest. The legislative body assembled in May, and they immediately resolved that the other Colnies should be invited to unite with them in sending delegates to a Congress, to be held in New York in October, to consult together on the present state of affairs and the recent acts of parliament. This was a significant intimation that the Colonies were at last aware of the strength and firmness which they might acquire by concert and union.

Delegates from nine of the colonies assembled at the Congress in New York, and assurances were received from two other Colonies that they would acquiesce in the result. The proceedings of this Congress were singularly moderate, considering the excited temper of the people. They only published a declaration of the Rights and Grievances of the Colonies, and addressed a petition to the king, and memorials to the two houses of parliament; and the tone of these documents, though firm, was mild, argumentative, and respectful. They claimed all the privileges of British subjects, and especially that of not being taxed without their own consent. When these papers were signed, the Congress was dissolved, after a session of little more than a fortnight. The chief advantage derived from it was, that it made the patriot leaders from the different Colonies acquainted with each other, and enabled them to give assurances of mutual support. November came, but the stamps were nowhere used and the business even of the courts of justice, after a short suspension, was resumed. The act was practically nullified, with the assent, either free or enforced, of the judges and the governors.

The cause of the Colonies, which they pleaded with much earnestness and ability, soon found sympathy in the whole of Europe; and in England itself, it was embraced by a powerful party, which opposed the measures of government both in speech and writing. At the head of this opposition stood the great statesman and orator, the elder William Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham; and he was actively supported by Conway, Col. Barrè, and Lord Camden, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and next to Lord Mansfield, the highest legal authority in the realm. This powerful opposition produced a change of ministry in July, 1765, and, after a vehement debate, after Dr. Franklin had undergone a memorable examination before the House of Commons, in which he declared that the Act could never be enforced, the Stamp Act was repealed. But a bill was passed at the same time, March, 1766, declaratory of the power and right of parliament to bind America in all cases whatsoever. In the Colonies, the news of the repeal was received with great rejoicing, the accompanying act being justly regarded as a mere contrivance to save the honor of government. Lord Camden, indeed, in the House of Lords, had strenously opposed the declaratory bill as ‘absolutely illegal.’ ‘Taxation and representation,’ he declared, ‘are inseparably united; God hath joined them, and no British parliament can put them asunder.’ Indemnity was demanded from the Colonies for those officers of the crown who had suffered from the late riots; and both New York and Massachusetts granted them full compensation.

But the joy of the Americans was of short duration, for in little more than a year, another act was passed by parliament, imposing duties on all tea, paper, glass, paints, and lead, that should be imported into the Colonies. This was an avowed attempt to raise a revenue, though, in form, the bill was like other acts for regulating trade; and it was hoped that, on this account, it would escape censure. But the principle first advanced by James Otis was now generally adopted by the Colonists, that revenue bills under the form of regulations of trade violated their rights quite as much as direct taxation. Thus the flame of opposition was kindled anew, and raged as hotly as ever. Non-importation was an obvious and legal means of escaping these taxes; and extensive combinations were therefore formed to refrain from the use, not only of the taxed articles, but, as far as possible, of all other British commodities. Able leaders and defenders of the popular causes were not wanting. Besides James Otis, there were the two Adamses (Samuel and John) and John Hancock in Massachusetts, John Dickenson in Pennsylvania, (the author of the celebrated ‘Farmer’s Letters,’ an able plea for Colonial rights,) Patrick Henry, and R. H. Lee in Virginia, and Gadsden and Rutledge in South Carolina, besides Dr. Franklin, whose reputation and abilities were of great weight in London, where he resided for many years as agent of several of the Colonies.

The war of pamphlets, newspapers, and speeches, the sharp controversies between colonial assemblies and royal governors, and occasional outbreaks of popular violence, continued for four or five years, till the Americans were well nigh weaned from their old affection for the land of their forefathers, and had ceased to glory in the British name. Boston was the head quarters of opposition to the policy of the English ministers, and several regiments of British troops were accordingly sent thither to dragoon the inhabitants into submission. But this measure served only to increase the irritation, and to make the breach irreparable. An affray took place March 5, 1770, between the mob and the soldiers, in which the latter fired, and killed three of their unarmed assailants, besides dangerously wounding five others. It was late in the evening; the alarm bells rang, the citizens rushed into the streets, and an open battle between the people and the troops was with difficulty prevented. The next day, the irritation of the people was so strongly manifested in a town meeting, that the governor and the military commander consented to remove the troops to an island in the harbor, and quiet was restored. The soldiers who had fired, with their officer, were brought to trial for murder; but Adams and Quincy, two of the most distinguished advocates of popular rights, nobly consented to act as their legal defenders, and made out so clear a case for them, that they had acted under strong provocation, that the jury acquitted them of murder, and only two were convicted of manslaughter, and slightly punished. Yet the story of ‘the Boston Massacre,’ as it was called, served long to inflame the passions of the multitude against their British oppressors.

As yet, no revenue had been received from the duty on tea, because the Americans would not import any of that commodity, the little which they consumed being obtained by smuggling. But the contest was brought to a crisis in 1773, by the East India Company, which, instigated by the English ministry, sent several cargoes of tea to the Colonies, supposing with good reason that it would be purchased if it could only be landed and offered for sale. But the patriots were on the alert, and immediately formed combinations to prevent the landing of the tea, and to force the consignees to send it back. In New York and Philadelphia, popular vengeance was denounced against any persons who should receive the article, and even against the pilots if they should guide the ships into the harbor; and the vessels were thus obliged to return to England, without even effecting an entry at the custom-house. At Charleston the tea was landed and stored in damp cellars, where it was quickly spoiled. At Boston, governor Hutchinson and admiral Montague succeeded in preventing the vessels from leaving the harbor, in spite of the menaces of the inhabitants; whereupon, about fifty persons disguised themselves as Mohawk Indians, boarded the ships at the wharf, and in the presence of a great crowd of people, drew up the chests of tea from the holds, and emptied their contents into the water. When the news of this act arrived in England, the indignant ministry resolved to punish the contumacious Bostonians, and for this purpose, introduced three bills into parliament, March, 1774, one of which shut up the port of Boston, and removed the custom-house to Salem; another virtually abrogated the charter of Massachusetts, by giving to the crown or to the governor the appointment of the Council and of all officers, and even the selection of juries, and by prohibiting town meetings from being held without the governor’s consent; and a third provided that persons accused of murder might be sent to England for trial. These bills were strenuously opposed by Fox, Burke, Barré, and Dunning, but were carried by majorities of more than four to one. Another law provided for the quartering of troops in America. Four more regiments were sent to Boston, so that the town was now strongly garrisoned; and Gen. Gage being appointed governor, in place of Hutchinson, the people of the province were virtually placed under military law. The Quebec Act, passed at the same session, for the purpose of preventing Canada from taking part with the other Colonies, extended the boundaries of that province to the Ohio and the Mississippi, established the old French law in all judicial proceedings, and secured to the Catholic Church there the enjoyment of all its lands and revenues. A short time before, as if the feelings of the people of Massachusetts had not been sufficiently irritated, their agent in London, Dr. Franklin, was made the object of an indecent and scurrilous invective before the Privy Council by the Solicitor General, Wedderburn, the avowed intention being to insult him and his constituents. He was charged with having transmitted to Massachusetts certain letters, written by some officers of the crown in that province, on public subjects, to their friends in office in England, which letters had been given to Franklin by some person who had obtained them by stratagem or unfair means. But before making this charge, the ministers themselves had repeatedly intercepted the letters of Franklin and other Colonial agents, and read them.

The passage of the Boston Port Bill was the virtual commencement of the American Revolution, though a collision with arms did not take place till another year had elapsed. The agreements to import no more British goods, and to abstain from the consumption of them, were renewed with greater solemnity and strictness than before. Another general Congress was called by Massachusetts, to meet at Philadelphia in September; and committees of correspondence were instituted, to render the action of the different Colonies harmonious, and to keep them advised of each other’s proceedings. Closing the harbor had deprived the people of Boston of their usual means of livelihood; but Salem and Marblehead generously tendered them the use of their wharves, and subscriptions for the more indigent were obtained all over the country. The Congress met at the appointed time and place, and twelve Colonies were represented in it, only Georgia sending no delegates. Among the members were the two Adamses from Massachusetts, and Washington and Patrick Henry from Virginia. Memorials and addresses were sent forth, as by the former assembly; and the tone of these papers was naturally firmer and more decisive than on the former occasion, though it was still moderate. A dignified and eloquent Address to the people of Great Britain, written by Mr. Jay, was much admired. The Declaration of Colonial Rights was precise and comprehensive, and it included a protest against the employment of a standing army in the Colonies without their consent. Professions were made of perfect loyalty to the king, and of great solicitude for the restoration of former harmony with Great Britain; and, from a majority of the delegates, these professions were undoubtedly sincere. After a session of eight weeks, the delegates separated, having first recommended that another Congress should meet in the ensuing May, if the difficulties with England were not previously adjusted.

In Massachusetts, hostilities seemed to be on the point of breaking out. Governor Gage prorogued the General Court before it had come together; but the members met at Salem, in spite of the prorogation, organized themselves into a provincial congress, chose John Hancock for their president, and proceeded to business. In an address to the governor, they protested against the presence of British troops, and the erection of the fortifications in Boston. They appointed a committee of safety, to make measures for the defense of the province, and another committee to obtain provisions and military stores. They forbade the payment of any more money to the late treasurer, and ordered all taxes to be collected by an officer whom they had appointed. Three generals were commissioned by them, to take the command of the militia, who were organized and disciplined with much diligence. Gage issued counter orders and proclamations, but no one out of the range of his soldiers’ muskets listened to them. His power was limited to Boston, which he held by a considerable military force, and had carefully fortified; but the people throughout Massachusetts rendered strict and cheerful obedience to the provincial congress. Later in the year, 12,000 ‘minute men’ were enrolled, being volunteers from the militia, who pledged themselves to be ready for service at a minute’s notice. Minute men were also enrolled in the other New England colonies, where, also, measures were taken to procure artillery and military stores.

The Port Bill went into operation in June, 1774, and the battle of Lexington was not fought till the following April. During the intervening months, the attitude of the whole people was calm and watchful; they did not collect together in large bodies, they made no menacing demonstrations, but waited patiently till their opponents should commit the first overt act of hostility.

It was the firing of the king’s troops on Lexington common April 19th, 1775, which rang the alarm bell of the revolution, and the hitherto seemingly quiescent Colony burst at once into a flame. This event took place at four o’clock in the morning; and before noon, the hills and roads were alive with ‘minute men,’ hurrying from all quarters to the scene of conflict. General Gage had sent out Colonel Smith, the night before, with 800 men, to destroy some military stores which the patriots had collected at Concord. On arriving at Lexington, Colonel Smith found a company of ‘minute men’ collected on the common, who were ordered to disperse, and almost at the same moment were fired upon by the British, who killed or wounded eighteen of them. A few shots were fired in return, and the king’s troops then passed on to Concord, where they destroyed a few stores, were attacked by the provincials, and commenced their retreat to Boston about noon. But the minute men were now rapidly coming up from the neighboring towns, and each company, as it arrived, without waiting for orders, or stopping to concert action with those already on the field, took the best position it could find for annoying the enemy, and opened its fire. The woods and stone walls on each side of the road were lined with sharp shooters, who availed themselves of every advantage of the ground as skillfully as if they had been directed by an able general. When the British, on their retreat, had reached Lexington, they were met by a reinforcement of 1,200 men, without which they would probably have been cut off. But as soon as they resumed their march, they were again attacked, and the affair continued as it had begun, each company of the rustic soldiery finding its own station and fighting on its own hook. The action ended only when the harassed king’s troops reached Charlestown, where they found safety under the guns of their shipping. They lost about 270 in killed, wounded, and missing, while the American loss was but 93.

The manner in which this battle was fought was a type of the whole contest in New England, from the time when the tea was destroyed till Boston was evacuated. It is the most striking, perhaps the only complete, instance which all history affords, of the whole population of a country, self-moved, and self-governed, acting together with great unanimity and vigor, yet acting patiently, prudently, and with even a punctilious regard for the laws, while their excitement was intense, and while they were bravely defying a powerful empire, and setting at nought an authority, which, when exercised within the bounds of justice, they and their fathers had always implicitly, and even lovingly, recognized. The first action of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress, after the battle of Lexington, was characteristic of the men and the times. They appointed a committee to take the depositions of those who were present, in order to prove that the British fired first. If they had been conducting a lawsuit about the title to a farm, they could not have been more anxious to collect testimony, and show that ‘the law’ was on their side. Most of the resolutions which they passed at this period, were accompanied by formidable preambles, in which the justice and legality of the measure proposed were demonstrated at length, though often with more earnestness than logic. The time for action had now arrived, and it soon appeared that the spirit which the people had shown at Lexington was no transient feeling. Within a few days, an army of about 16,000 men had come together, and the siege of Boston was begun. This, again, was a spontaneous and unconcerted movement; they assembled before preparations were made for them, before a commander-in-chief had been appointed, or any plan of action formed. Rhode Island and Connecticut retained the control of their own troops, and the care of providing them with arms and sustenance, merely instructing them to cooperate with the Massachusetts army. But for the excellent spirit of the men, the army would have been merely an armed mob. But the ranks were filled with steady farmers and mechanics, who were brought thither by their attachment to the cause, and who needed little discipline to keep them in order.

Ammunition and artillery were yet wanting, though great exertions had been made to obtain military stores. But this want was partially supplied by an enterprise of the ‘Green Mountain Boys,’ as the inhabitants of the country which is now the State of Vermont were then called. It was known that the fortresses of Ticonderoga and Crown Point had but slender garrisons and were imperfectly guarded. Ethan Allen and Seth Warner, who commanded some armed volunteers in that region, undertook upon their own responsibility to take these forts by surprise, and they succeeded, May, 1775. Two hundred pieces of artillery and a considerable supply of powder were thus obtained for the camp near Boston. The British army at that place had been reinforced, and now amounted to 10,000 men, under Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne. To straiten their quarters, Col. Prescott was sent, with about a thousand men from the American army, to throw up an entrenchment on Bunker’s Hill in Charlestown. A small redoubt was constructed there in the night time, on which, as soon as it was discovered in the morning, the English ships in the harbor opened their fire, June 17. This produced but little effect; and the reinforcements sent to Prescott during the forenoon enabled him to throw up an imperfect breast-work, and other slight fortifications outside of the redoubt. Generals Putnam, Pomeroy, and Warren joined him at this time, but did not take the command out of his hands. Three thousand men were sent over at noon from Boston, led by Howe and Pigot, to take the hill by assault. They advanced bravely, but the fire of the Americans was so close and well-sustained, that the British wavered, and fell back in great disorder. Gage then ordered the village of Charlestown, which was near the foot of the hill, to be set on fire, and while the flames were raging, the troops again moved forward. Again, as they approached the redoubt, the murderous fire of the Americans, many of whom were practiced marksmen, burst forth, and again the assailants were driven back to the landing place. They formed and advanced a third time, and as the ammunition of the Americans was now nearly spent, they succeeded in getting possession of the hill. But their opponents retired in a body, and were not pursued, though they suffered much from the fire of the shipping in their retreat. The victory of Howe might well be considered a defeat, for he lost over a thousand men in killed and wounded, while the American loss was not half as great. But Gen. Warren was among the slain. The battle was as characteristic as that of Lexington; a Colonel commanded, and three Generals either served under him, or acted independently in directing the troops. The result was very encouraging to the Americans, as it proved that their raw levies were capable of waging a desperate conflict with regular troops.

Congress had again assembled at Philadelphia at the appointed time, May 10, and it began to exercise all the functions of a government, though there was no formal union of the Colonies, and the cheerful acquiescence of the people was the only basis of its authority. But the delegates were not yet prepared for a total rupture with England; they voted to send another petition to the king, and an address to the people of Great Britain, in which they declared that they did not intend to throw off their allegiance, and professed an anxious desire for peace. At the same time, they resolved to put the country in a state of defense, and to complete the organization of an army, George Washington, a delegate from Virginia, was chosen commander-in-chief, the members from New England heartily concurring in his nomination, from their wish to secure the coöperation of the southern Colonies. Ward, Lee, Schuyler, and Putnam were commissioned as major-generals, and ten brigadiers were appointed, among whom were Gates, Green, Montgomery, and Sullivan. Most of these officers had seen service in the French and Indian wars. Bills of credit, or paper money, were issued to the amount of three millions of dollars; a post-office department was organized, and a committee was appointed to secure, if possible, the neutrality of the Indians. Massachusetts asked the advice of Congress, in reference to its form of government; and it was advised to establish a provisional government, that should conform as nearly as possible to the charter. The governors of most of the Colonies had now either abandoned their posts, or were coöperating with the enemies of the country; and the direction of affairs had generally fallen into the hands either of the most numerous representative body under the old organization, or of such an assembly created for the occasion. It may be observed here, by anticipation, that new constitutions of government were established by all the Colonies, except Connecticut and Rhode Island, during the progress of the war. New Hampshire formed such a constitution in 1775; New Jersey, South Carolina, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and North Carolina, in 1776,—​the first three before the Declaration of Independence; Georgia and New York, in 1777; Massachusetts, in 1780. The forms of government thus established were not arbitrary and novel. They supplied omissions, it is true; but they made no unnecessary innovations. They were the old forms of polity, adopted by the first settlers, or created for them by charter, with such modifications only as were rendered necessary by the transition from a state of partial, to one of total, independence. Connecticut and Rhode Island did not find it necessary to make any change; their charters were so liberal that the people, in fact, had always chosen all their own officers, and enacted all their own laws; and under these charters, the government continued to be administered for nearly half a century after the Revolution.

Washington assumed the command of the army before Boston about a fortnight after the battle of Bunker Hill, and immediately endeavored to improve its organization and discipline, and to obtain supplies of arms and military stores. The troops at first consisted entirely of volunteers, and so many of these left and went home after a short stay, that it was feared the camp would be deserted. An attempt was now made to enlist soldiers for definite periods, to form them into regiments, and accustom them to discipline and the use of their arms. The most pressing want was that of powder, of which there was not enough to furnish nine rounds to a man, and the whole supply in the country was so inadequate that active operations could not be undertaken for some months. Attempts were made to establish manufactories of saltpetre and to import powder and lead from the West Indies; and a small supply of military stores was obtained from captured vessels. The patience and firmness of the commander-in-chief were severely taxed by the many discouraging circumstances of his position, at the head of a motley collection of troops, with insufficient means of paying them and of providing many necessaries of war. Reserved and dignified in his demeanor, inflexible in purpose, circumspect and yet enterprising in his plans, industrious and methodical in business, he united the highest qualifications for the elevated post which he was called to fill. His equanimity was seldom ruffled, and no failures or disasters could dishearten him or paralyze his energies. A keen judge of character and qualifications, he was generally fortunate in selecting his agents and giving his confidence. Under his direction, and in spite of the most adverse circumstances, the raw levies were gradually converted into disciplined and effective troops, and the efforts of an enemy greatly superior in means and equipment were successfully foiled.

Congress had projected an expedition against Canada, in the hope of obtaining the sympathy and aid of the French inhabitants of that province, or perhaps of inducing them to unite with the other Colonies in resistance to the British ministry. In August, 1775, Schuyler and Montgomery, at the head of a small body of troops, advanced by way of Lake Champlain against Montreal, whilst Arnold, with about a thousand men, was detached from the camp before Boston, to ascend the Kennebeck river, and then make his way through the wilderness to the banks of the St. Lawrence opposite Quebec. Schuyler being prevented by illness from advancing farther than St. John’s on the Sorel, the command devolved on Montgomery, who, after a few weeks’ siege, captured St. John’s, and then advanced against Montreal, which was surrendered to him without resistance. Arnold’s troops, after suffering great hardships from exposure and want of food while passing through a wild and uninhabited region, reached the southern bank of the St. Lawrence, December 1st, where they were joined by Montgomery, who came down the river to meet them. Their united forces hardly exceeded a thousand men, while Carleton, the British commander, by landing the sailors and organizing the citizens into military companies, had garrisoned Quebec with 1,200. The artillery of the Americans not being sufficient to make any impression on the works, they resolved to attempt to carry the place by assault. Under cover of a snow-storm, December 31, the men advanced to the attack with great gallantry, and forced their way into the lower town; but Montgomery was killed, Arnold’s leg was broken by a musket ball, and after some desperate fighting, the party in the streets found themselves surrounded and were obliged to surrender. Arnold, with about 600 men, retreated a few miles up the river, and there kept up the blockade of Quebec through the winter. Reinforcements were sent to him; but after the spring opened, a large body of British troops arrived at Quebec and the Americans were forced to retire, first to Montreal, and afterwards to St. John’s.

Howe’s army in Boston, having learned caution from the battle of Bunker Hill, made no attempt at offensive operations during the autumn and winter; and the want of cannon and powder in the American camp prevented Washington from attacking them. But through the great exertion of Colonel Knox, over fifty pieces of artillery were dragged on sleds, over the frozen lake and the snow, from Crown Point and Ticonderoga; and active measures were then adopted to drive the British out of the place. On the evening of the 4th of March, the attention of the enemy being drawn by a brisk cannonade to the opposite quarter, a large body of troops secretly took possession of Dorchester heights, and erected a line of fortifications there which commanded the harbor and the town. The English general made immediate preparation to attack these works; but a furious storm of wind and rain, that prevailed for two days, prevented the troops from crossing in boats to Dorchester, and when this had ceased, the intrenchments seemed too strong to be forced. General Howe consequently resolved to evacuate the town; and on the 17th, the fleet sailed, carrying off the whole army, and about one thousand inhabitants of the place and its vicinity who adhered to the king’s cause. The recovery of Boston caused great rejoicing throughout the country; the thanks of Congress were voted to the general and his army, and a gold medal was ordered to be struck in commemoration of the event. After a delay of a few days, Washington marched with the main body of the army to New York. The Loyalists, or Tories, as the favorers of the British cause were called, were numerous in that place and its neighborhood, and for this reason, among others, it was supposed that Howe would carry his army thither. In reality, the British troops sailed for Halifax, where they remained inactive till the end of June, and then, after receiving large reinforcements, proceeded to New York.

A year had now elapsed since the battle of Lexington; it had been passed in active hostilities, the exasperation of both parties had increased, and there seemed no longer any hope of a reconciliation with England. Lord North’s ministry, supported by the obstinacy of the king and by a large majority in both houses of Parliament, evinced no disposition to change its policy; on the contrary, treaties had been formed with several of the minor powers of Germany, in virtue of which about 17,000 Hessians, Waldeckers, and Hanoverians were collected by crafty recruiting officers, and hired out to England for the purpose of putting down the rebellion in America. Of course, the news that these mercenaries were to be employed greatly increased the irritation of the Colonies. Thomas Paine, a very vigorous writer, published his famous pamphlet, called ‘Common Sense,’ to prove that a final separation from England was inevitable and ought not to be delayed. Written in an eminently popular style, it had an immense circulation, and was of great service in preparing the minds of the people for independence. A proposition to dissolve all connection with Great Britain was first introduced into Congress by Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia and was warmly supported by John Adams and other members from New England. But it was not carried without difficulty; New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and South Carolina hesitated. Indeed, the legislatures of the two former Colonies had expressly instructed their representatives in Congress to vote against it. But the tide of popular opinion now set strongly towards independence, and the waverers were carried along with it, in spite of their efforts. The recusant Colonies recalled their instructions, and on the 4th of July, 1776, the Declaration of Independence, written by Thomas Jefferson, and revised by a committee, of which John Adams and Dr. Franklin were members, was solemnly adopted in Congress by a vote of the whole Thirteen States.

The progress of the contest had been watched with great attention on the Continent of Europe, where the efforts of the Americans were naturally regarded with favor and sympathy, partly out of jealousy of England, but still more by the enthusiasm which a gallant contest for freedom always awakens in the hearts of the people. Among the French, particularly, this feeling was very strong, as the success of the patriots would humiliate and weaken the haughty rival that had recently triumphed over France, and deprived her of nearly all her colonial dominion. Congress had previously appointed a ‘Committee of Secret Correspondence,’ to keep up intercourse with the friends of the cause in various parts of Europe; and now that the United States had become an independent power, it seemed proper to extend this intercourse, and to establish diplomatic relations with other governments. Three commissioners, of whom Dr. Franklin was one, were sent to Paris, and Arthur Lee was deputed by them to visit Prussia and Spain. These agents were not formally received at court, for no European power was yet prepared for war with England. But the French ministers treated them with much courtesy, and agreed to furnish the Americans with secret supplies of money, arms, and military stores, to a considerable amount. Many shipments were consequently made, and the aid thus received was very seasonable. The appearance of Dr. Franklin, with his high reputation as a philosopher, his plain garb, and agreeable manners, as an envoy from the combatants for freedom in the New World, created a great sensation among the excitable people of Paris. Honors and attentions of all kinds were lavished upon him. ‘Men imagined,’ says Lacretelle, ‘that they saw in him a sage of antiquity, come back to give austere lessons and generous examples to the moderns. They personified in him the republic of which he was the representative and legislator.’ The young and wealthy Marquis of Lafayette, inspired with a noble enthusiasm, crossed the ocean to hazard life and property in the cause of American freedom. Some Germans, also, among whom Kalb and Steuben, were best known, and the gallant Pole, Kosciusko, with a number of volunteers from other nations, came to the aid of the Americans.

The campaign of 1776 was very disastrous to the American arms, and but for the surpassing fortitude and magnanimity of their great military leader, it would have been ruinous to the cause. Washington’s army was very weak when it arrived in New York; several regiments had been left behind to garrison Boston, and others were detached to strengthen the northern army, then lying near Montreal. Unfortunately, also, the men had been enlisted for very short periods, owing to the uncertainty how long the war would continue; and now, when their services were most wanted, and they had been trained and disciplined, whole regiments had to be disbanded and sent home, and their places were taken by raw recruits. Frequent drafts were made from the militia, to meet pressing emergencies; but these raw troops could not be depended upon for efficient service.

The Continental troops under Washington at New York did not number more than 8,000, while the British army, which Howe led thither in June, including the German mercenaries, amounted to 24,000. Among them were the troops lately employed against Charleston, South Carolina, where they had attempted to land, but the fleet had been driven off by the heavy fire from the forts. The fortifications at New York did not prove so formidable, as the British vessels passed them without damage, and entered the Hudson river. Howe landed most of his troops on Long Island, where the tories were very numerous, and marched to attack the Americans, who were in an entrenched camp at the western end of the island, opposite New York. A battle followed, in which the British army succeeded in gaining the rear of the Americans by an unguarded road, and totally defeated them, taking over a thousand prisoners. The remainder of the army secretly retreated, on the second night after the battle, from Long Island to New York. Leaving a garrison in the town, Washington placed the body of the troops on Harlem heights, a strong position at the northward. But the garrison was soon obliged with loss to quit New York, as the place was not tenable except by a large force, and even the troops on the heights behaved so ill that a further retreat became necessary. Discouragement was now very general; the militia deserted by companies, and the Continentals, as the regular troops were called, began to follow their example. Washington adopted the only system of warfare which was practicable under these gloomy circumstances; he resolved to risk no general engagement, to encamp only in strong positions, to weary out the enemy by frequent marches, and not to meet them except in skirmishes. A partial action was fought at White Plains, October 28, without any decisive result, and most of the Americans were then withdrawn to the western shore of the Hudson, as an invasion of New Jersey was threatened. A large garrison was left in Fort Washington, on New York island, about ten miles above the city; but the British attacked it before the fortifications were completed, and the commander was obliged to capitulate, giving up the place and stores, and over 2,000 prisoners. The enemy then crossed the Hudson in force, and Washington was obliged to abandon Fort Lee, on the Jersey shore, with a great quantity of baggage and artillery. He then retreated rapidly southward through New Jersey as far as Trenton, where, for safety, the army crossed the Delaware into Pennsylvania. At this gloomy period for the American cause, Sir William Howe issued a proclamation, offering pardon to all who would return to their allegiance within sixty days, and commanding all persons who had taken up arms, and all congresses and associations, to desist from their treasonable proceedings, and give up their usurped authority. Many individuals, among them were two former members of Congress, were weak enough to accept the proposal. As the British army approached Philadelphia, Congress adjourned to Baltimore, having first granted to the commander-in-chief almost dictatorial powers.

Washington perceived that some bold stroke was necessary to revive the spirits of his countrymen. Some reinforcements had joined him, and the English army had gone into winter-quarters, being stationed in detachments in several places in New Jersey. On Christmas night, at the head of 2,500 men, he recrossed the Delaware with great difficulty, as the river was full of floating ice, surprised a body of Hessians in Trenton, took 900 prisoners and then returned to his former position with only a trifling loss. A week afterwards, he reöccupied Trenton with a larger force; but lord Cornwallis came up to meet him with a large portion of the British army, and it appeared too hazardous either to stand an engagement or retreat when the enemy were so near. Washington devised a manœuvre which was completely successful. Leaving the watch-fires burning in the deserted camp, the troops were led by a circuitous route into the rear of the British, and then conducted to Princeton, where they fell unexpectedly upon three regiments that were stationed there, drove them out of the town with great loss, and took 300 prisoners. Cornwallis heard the firing in his rear, and divining the cause, hurried off in pursuit; but before he could overtake the Americans, they were encamped on unassailable ground at Morristown. These exploits taught Sir William Howe to respect an opponent whom he had begun to contemn; and he therefore withdrew his troops from the greater part of New Jersey, and concentrated them round New York. Washington stationed his army at Morristown, Princeton, and in the Highlands on the Hudson; and the next six months were spent in organizing it anew, and reducing it to discipline. The British had taken possession of the southern part of Rhode Island, and had surprised and captured Gen. Lee. On the other hand, privateers and national cruisers had been fitted out in the ports of Massachusetts, and had captured many valuable British ships, which were carried to the West Indies and the harbors of continental Europe, and sold.

The next year, 1777, was the turning point, or critical period of the war. It was checkered by good and evil fortune. It was a period of much financial difficulty and great suffering both by the army and the people; but towards its close, the unexpected and great success of the American arms at the north really decided the fate of the contest, and showed that the attempt of Great Britain to reduce the Colonies by force to their former allegiance was a hopeless undertaking. About the end of May, the American army, now much strengthened by recruits, left its winter quarters, and took a strong position at Middlefield. Howe manœuvred for some time, in the hope of inducing or compelling it to fight a battle on equal ground. But finding that Washington was too cautious to run this hazard, he suddenly embarked his army on board the fleet, and carried it round to the head of Chesapeake Bay, where he landed and began his march for Philadelphia. He was obliged to take this route, as the American fortifications on the Delaware made it too hazardous for the fleet to ascend that river. Anxious to save the city which was the seat of Congress and was regarded in some measure as the capital of the country, Washington marched hurriedly south to intercept him. After passing through Philadelphia, he first attempted to check the progress of the enemy at Brandywine, where a creek, everywhere fordable, guarded the front of the American position. The British passed this stream in two divisions, September 11, at considerable distance from each other; and Washington’s army being thus attacked in front and on the flank, some regiments broke and fled, and the rest were forced to retreat in some disorder. The Americans again offered battle five days afterwards, but a violent storm interrupted the engagement almost as soon as it began. The hope of saving Philadelphia was then abandoned; Congress adjourned to Lancaster, the magazines and public stores were removed, and Howe entered the city on the 25th, leaving the bulk of his army ten miles off, at Germantown. It was a barren conquest; experience was now teaching the British that they could hold no more ground in America than what they actually occupied with their troops; and these were not to be too much scattered, or they were liable to be cut off in detail.

To raise the sinking spirits of his men, Washington planned a surprise of the British army in Germantown. The enterprise seemed successful at first; but the troops got separated from each other, in the darkness of the morning, by the inequalities of the ground, a panic seized upon some, and the whole were then driven to make a disorderly retreat. Rightly deeming that Washington could not soon make another attack after this repulse, Howe resolved to attack the forts on the Delaware, in order to establish communication with his fleet, which had not yet been able to pass up the river. Count Donop, with 1,200 Hessians, assaulted the post at Red Bank, on the Jersey shore, but fell in the attempt, and his men were driven off with great slaughter; and of the ships which assailed Fort Mifflen, on an island in the Delaware, a sixty four was blown up, a frigate was burned, and the others were much injured and compelled to retire. The enemy then erected land-batteries, which kept up so heavy a fire that the fortifications were ruined, and the garrison was withdrawn. Red Bank was also evacuated, and the Delaware was thus opened to the British fleet.

But the most important military operations of this year took place at the North. Gen. Burgoyne received the command in Canada, with a finely appointed army of 10,000 men, and was instructed to force his way down Lake Champlain, and then cross to Albany, and descend the Hudson, to join the British forces in New York. This plan, if executed, would have cut off New England from the other Colonies, and have rendered the subjugatian of the Americans extremely probable. And there was great danger for a time that it would be executed. Burgoyne summoned the Indians to his standard, and easily drove the feeble and disorganized army of St. Clair before him, captured Ticonderoga and Skenesborough, July 6, and prepared to force his way through the wilderness, from the head of the lake to the Hudson. St. Clair had brought a poor remnant of his army to join Schuyler at Fort Edward, on the Hudson; but their united forces did not number 5,000, most of them were militia, and both ammunition and provisions were wanting. The news of the loss of Ticonderoga and the rapid progress of Burgoyne created great consternation; the militia of New England came forward readily, and in considerable numbers, to strengthen the northern army, which also received some detachments from the posts in the Highlands. Schuyler was superseded by Gen. Gates, and under him were placed Arnold, Morgan, Lincoln, and others, who were among the best officers in the army. Burgoyne had succeeded in reaching the Hudson after immense labor and fatigue, but he found that difficulties were now beginning to thicken around him. He sent out a strong detachment of regular troops, Tories, and Indians, to his right, to turn the alarm to the western frontier of New York, and lay siege to Fort Schuyler at the head of the Mohawk. Arnold was sent against him, and the fear of his approach caused so many of the Indians to desert, that St. Leger was compelled to raise the siege and retire so precipitately that most of his stores and baggage fell into the hands of the Americans. Another and stronger detachment was sent out to the left, under Col. Baum, to try the temper of the people and to obtain horses and provisions; this was encountered, at Bennington, by some New Hampshire militia and Green Mountain Boys, under Col. Stark, and totally defeated, most of the German soldiers being taken prisoners. Col. Breyman, who had been sent with 500 men to aid Baum, came up two hours after the battle was fought, was himself attacked by the victorious party, and obliged to make the best retreat he could, with the loss of all his baggage and artillery. Thus both of Burgoyne’s wings were clipped, and he found himself at Saratoga, on the west side of the Hudson, in the heart of a difficult country, short of provisions, and with an enemy constantly increasing in numbers on all sides of him. He first tried an attack upon Gates’ camp, upon Behmus’s Heights, in his front Sept. 19; and the result was a drawn battle, in which he lost 500 men, and gained not a single advantage. A party of Lincoln’s militia had got into his rear, surprised the posts around Lake George, and besieged Ticonderoga, so that his communications were cut off. But he was encouraged to hold out, as a letter reached him from Clinton in New York, saying that the latter was about to make an expedition up the Hudson, which could operate as a diversion, and might reach Albany, so as to place Gates between two fires. The promise was kept, the passes of the Highlands were forced, and the British had proceeded as far north as Esopus, when they learned that they were too late, and found it prudent to return. Burgoyne offered battle again on the 7th of October, and his troops were defeated and driven back into his camp, his entrenchments in one quarter were forced, and a part of his artillery and ammunition were captured. His position was thus rendered untenable, and he secretly drew back in the night to a rising ground in the rear. Thence he retreated, two days afterwards, to Saratoga, and found that the difficulties of the country and the position of the American parties were such that he could go no further. He held out a week longer; and then, his provisions being exhausted and his camp surrounded and hard pressed, he was obliged to capitulate. He had already lost about 4,000 men, and 5,642 others were now surrendered as prisoners of war, all his arms, baggage, and camp equipage also passing into the hands of the victors. The garrison of Ticonderoga, when they heard of this calamity, hastily retreated into Canada, and the Americans again took possession of this renowned fortress.

Two days after the news arrived at Paris of the capture of Burgoyne and the battle of Germantown, the French ministry intimated to Dr. Franklin that they were willing to consider the project of a treaty of alliance with the American States. Two treaties were accordingly framed, Feb. 6, 1778, in one of which France acknowledged the independence of the States, and formed relations of amity and commerce with them; in the other, which was to go into effect if Great Britain should make war upon France, the two contracting parties bound themselves to aid each other as good friends and allies, to maintain the sovereignty and independence of the American States, and not to make a truce or peace except by mutual consent. About the same time, the British ministry caused two laws to be enacted, declaring that no tax should hereafter be imposed by parliament on the Colonies, and appointing commissioners to treat with them on almost any terms short of absolute independence. The concession was ample, but it came too late; Congress refused even to hold a conference with the commissioners before the British armies were withdrawn and the independence of the country acknowledged. England therefore declared war against France, and prepared to keep up in America some years longer a useless, expensive, and murderous conflict, in which she had hardly a hope of ultimate success. The Colonists were indeed compelled to pay a heavy price for their freedom. The public finances were in a deplorable state; recruits could not be obtained except by enormous bounties, and the troops were but half fed and half clothed; and the people generally were suffering from the interruption of trade and agriculture, and the scarcity of breadstuffs. There was hardly a family in the land to which the war had not already brought privation and bereavement. And yet the spirit of the people continued high; they expected much from the French alliance, and, except among the Tories, hardly a wish was breathed for peace on any terms short of independence. For the army, which had passed the winter in miserable huts at Valley Forge, suffering from cold and disease, and to some extent also from hunger and nakedness, Washington set apart a day for rejoicing when the news of the treaty with France were received. Losses and hardships were then forgotten in the general exultation; ‘every heart was filled with gratitude to the French king, and every mouth spoke his praise.’

The quarters of the British army were now found to be too much extended; and it was resolved to evacuate Philadelphia and to retreat to New York. The American army, which had been reinforced in the spring of 1778, and somewhat trained and disciplined through the great efforts of Baron Steuben, a brave and skillful Prussian officer, hung upon their rear and gave them much trouble. A battle was fought at Monmouth, June 28, with indecisive results, though the British loss considerably exceeded that of the Americans. Many of the German soldiers, also, took the opportunity to desert. Count D’Estaing soon arrived with a powerful fleet, having 4,000 French soldiers on board, and a scheme for a combined attack on New York having failed because the pilots would not conduct the heavier ships over the bar, an expedition against Newport was agreed upon, that place being held by Gen. Pigot, at the head of 6,000 men. The fleet blockaded the harbor, and forced the English to sink some of their frigates; but the Continental troops and New England militia did not arrive soon enough to coöperate with the ships, which were compelled to put to sea by Lord Howe’s fleet, and were also crippled by a storm. The undertaking was abandoned, and Gen. Sullivan had much difficulty in bringing off the American troops, as the British had received a large reinforcement. These were the only military operations on a large scale during the year; though as the war was now prosecuted both by the British and the Tories in a less hopeful and more revengeful spirit, several predatory expeditions were sent out that did much wanton injury, and in some skirmishes no quarter was given, and acts of sickening barbarity were committed. Wyoming, a flourishing settlement in Pennsylvania, was desolated by an incursion of Indians and Tories, the male inhabitants were massacred, the houses burned, and the cattle killed or driven off. Some towns on the coast of Massachusetts were burned, and a heavy contribution was levied on a defenseless island. In New York, Baylor’s troop of dragoons were surprised, and the men bayonetted, under Gen. Gray’s orders to give no quarter; and the same fate befell the infantry of Pulaski’s legion. There was some excuse for the Tories in these proceedings; their property had been very generally confiscated, they often had rough personal treatment, and on slight pretexts, some of them had been hanged.

During the next two years, the war was chiefly carried on by the British in the southern States, where the population was more scattered and divided in opinion, and the country offered fewer means of defense. At the close of 1778, Savannah was taken by an expedition from New York, and another body of royal troops coming up from Florida, nearly completed the conquest of Georgia. Gen. Lincoln was sent to take the command in this department, and by great exertions he protected Charleston and South Carolina from the enemy till September 1779, when D’Estaing, with a French fleet and 6,000 men, arrived on the coast, and the two armies in concert laid siege to Savannah. But as the French could remain but a short time, the attack was made prematurely, and the besiegers were beaten off with great loss, the gallant Count Pulaski being among the slain. Gen. Mathews was sent from New York, with 2,500 men, on a plundering expedition to Virginia. He took possession of Portsmouth and Norfolk, burned some ships of war and many private vessels, and brought off a large quantity of tobacco, after destroying private property to the amount of two millions of dollars. At the north, Congress took measures to punish the Indians for the atrocities they had committed at Wyoming, and other places. Gen. Sullivan led an expedition of 4,000 men into the heart of their country, in the western part of the State of New York, destroyed their villages, cut down their fruit trees, and so devastated the region, that the miserable savages could attempt nothing more till the close of the war. Some British troops under Gen. Tryon paid a marauding visit to the Connecticut shore, plundered and burned several towns, and destroyed a large amount of property. About the only legitimate military exploits of the year, at the north, were the capture by the British of Stony Point and Verplanck’s Point on the Hudson, thus rendering the communication between New England and the Middle States more circuitous and difficult, and the recapture of Stony Point in a very gallant manner by the the Americans under Gen. Wayne.

Spain had now joined the alliance against England, June, 1779, though with no very definite purpose, except the hope that, while the attention of the British ministry was occupied by so many enemies, she might regain possession of Gibraltar. For a short time, the united French and Spanish fleet swept the British seas; but it was soon compelled to go into harbor. The next year, 1780, added another European power to the list of England’s enemies, and brought her assumed empire of the seas into great danger. To check the maritime superiority of the British, who, during the war, had greatly disturbed the neutral trade at sea, and molested the ships of every country by an oppressive search for contraband goods, Catherine II of Russia concluded an alliance with the several neutral powers, which should maintain the principle of ‘free ships, free goods,’ and thus secure the trade of the neutral states on the coasts and in the harbors of either of the belligerent powers. The confederacy also declared that no blockade of any port should be deemed effectual, so as to exclude neutral vessels from entering it, if there were not an adequate naval force present to maintain the blockade and render it dangerous for any ship to attempt to enter. This neutral alliance was constituted successively by Russia, Denmark, Sweden, Prussia, Austria, Naples, and Portugal. But Holland, whose adherence was very important from her situation and maritime strength, hesitated so long that England got information of the project, and declared war against the Dutch before they could give in their adhesion at St. Petersburg. Holland thus disappeared from the list of the neutral powers, and the alliance was deprived of her aid towards accomplishing their great purpose.

A powerful British armament, under Clinton and Arbuthnot, appeared before Charleston in February, 1780, and laid siege to it, with a view to the ultimate conquest of the whole State. Gen. Lincoln’s means of defense were very inadequate, and though he made every effort, he was compelled, after a resistance of 42 days, to surrender the city and give up his whole army as prisoners of war. The enemy then easily overran South Carolina; and many of the inhabitants, to avoid the extremities of war, took ‘protections’ from them, and thereby avowed themselves to be British subjects. Lord Cornwallis was then left to command at the South, while Clinton returned to New York. Congress appointed Gen. Gates to oppose the former, and by great exertions an army of 4,000 men was collected for this purpose, mostly militia, who were ill fed and ill armed, and not at all disciplined. With the rash confidence inspired by his success against Burgoyne, Gates advanced hastily and with little precaution, was attacked under unfavorable circumstances by Cornwallis, near Camden, and his army so completely routed that not a fourth part of them could be again brought together. The southern States were thus rendered almost entirely defenseless, though the British for the present were not able to invade North Carolina from the want of supplies. Sumter and Marion, also, noted partisan officers, gave them great annoyance by collecting bands of irregular troops, and waging a kind of guerrilla warfare against their outposts and detachments. One motley collection of such troops, chiefly mounted backwoodsmen with their rifles, under Shelby and Sevier, intercepted Ferguson, an active Loyalist, at the head of about 1,000 Tories, at King’s Mountain, and totally defeated him, taking most of his men prisoners, and hanging some of them as traitors. At the end of the year, Gen. Greene was sent to take Gates’ place, and a small regular army was collected for him, which he led with consummate ability. At the north, a French fleet and army, the latter under Rochambeau, arrived at Newport, but were blockaded there by a superior British fleet, so that they accomplished nothing.

Another remarkable incident of the year was the treason of Gen. Arnold, a very brave officer, but dissolute, wayward, and extravagant, who sold himself to the British for £10,000 and a general’s commission, covenanting to give into their power, also, West Point and the other American fortresses in the Highlands. The conspiracy was detected just before the time fixed for its execution. Arnold succeeded in making his escape; but Major Andrè, a gallant English officer whom Clinton had sent to negotiate with him, was seized when in disguise within the American lines, and was tried and executed as a spy. The want of pay and the impossibility of complying with the just demands of the soldiers, caused some Pennsylvania regiments, who were encamped near Morristown, to break out into open revolt. They were invited to join the British, as Arnold had done; but they refused, and after the matter had been compromised by Congress some of their grievances being redressed, they gave up the emissaries of the enemy, who were hanged as spies. Some New Jersey troops quickly followed this example of insubordination; but their revolt was crushed with a strong hand, and a few of the ringleaders were executed.

The comparative ease with which Georgia and South Carolina had been subdued caused great efforts to be made, in 1781, for the conquest of North Carolina and Virginia. In January of this year the traitor Arnold was sent with 1,600 men, chiefly Tories, to plunder and devastate the country on the Chesapeake and the James river, in order to cripple the resources of the state; and after he had accomplished this service, he was joined by Gen. Phillips, with 2,000 troops from New York. But these marauding expeditions did not help the British cause much; they caused great misery, but they incensed the people so much that they lost all thoughts of acquiescence and submission, and made desperate efforts to repulse the destroyers. The plan was, that Cornwallis should march north, to join Phillips and Arnold, their united forces being deemed sufficient to crush all opposition at the South. But Cornwallis had now an able and determined opponent in Greene, who gave him enough to do in the Carolinas. Half of Greene’s force, under Morgan, who had been sent to put down the Tories in the west, encountered the British light troops under Tarleton, at the Cowpens, and gave them a signal defeat, killing or taking prisoners over 600 of them. Cornwallis instantly started of in great haste, to overtake and punish Morgan before he could rejoin his commander. But the activity of the Americans baffled him. Still the British general pushed on; and Greene’s whole force being much inferior, he was obliged to make a rapid retreat into Virginia. He soon returned, however, with some reinforcements, and offered battle at Guilford Court House, where Cornwallis indeed defeated him, but the victory was equivalent to a defeat. The British loss was greater than the American, and Cornwallis was obliged to retire to Wilmington, near the sea. Greene pursued him for a while, and then took the bold step of marching directly into South Carolina, which had been left in charge of Lord Rawdon with a small force. Finding it impossible to overtake him, Cornwallis imitated his bold policy by marching north, to join the king’s troops in Virginia. Greene and Rawdon came in conflict with each other at Hobkirk’s Hill, April 25, and the former was again defeated, though his loss was no greater than the enemy’s and the advantages of the encounter were all on his side. Lee and Marion, with other partisan officers, encouraged by his presence, roused the inhabitants to arms; nearly all the British posts in the upper country were captured or abandoned, and the larger part of South Carolina was restored to the Americans. Their irritated opponents shot as deserters all whom they captured in arms that had once accepted British protection; among these victims was Colonel Hayne, an eminent citizen of Charleston, whose fate caused much sorrow and indignation. The conflict on both sides had all the aggravated features of a civil war.

The arrival of a powerful fleet under Count De Grasse having given the French a temporary superiority at sea, the French forces at Newport were released, and an attack upon the British in New York was projected for the combined army of Washington and Rochambeau. But this came to be thought an enterprise beyond their strength, and it was resolved in preference to strike a blow at Cornwallis in Virginia. That enterprising general, after vainly endeavoring to overtake and crush the small American force commanded by Lafayette, had retired to Yorktown, a peninsula at the mouth of York river, where he had strongly intrenched himself at the head of 8,000 men. Here he was blockaded by De Grasse’s fleet, and, a fortnight afterwards, was invested by the combined French and American army, 16,000 strong. About the same time, also, the ever active Greene had fought another battle with the British in South Carolina, at Eutaw Springs, the immediate result of which was indecisive, the loss on each side being about 700; but the general consequence was, that the British were thenceforward cooped up in Charleston and the small district between the Cooper and Ashley rivers. Cornwallis was vigorously pressed his intrenchments being ruined and his guns dismounted by the fire of heavy breaching batteries. He tried a sally without improving his situation; and then, all hope of aid from New York having failed, he was obliged to capitulate and surrender his whole army, still about 7,000 strong, as prisoners of war. This grand stroke was virtually the end of the armed contest in America; having sacrificed two large armies, and protracted the struggle for six years, the British could no longer hope to retain a foothold in the United States, far less to bring them back to their former allegiance.

Such now came to be the general opinion even in England, where, indeed, for the last three years, the war had been very unpopular. It had added over one hundred millions sterling to the national debt; it had sullied the military reputation of the kingdom, which had never stood higher than in 1760, and never lower than after the capture of Cornwallis; it had brought France, Spain, and Holland into a league of hostilities against her, and had combined the other professedly neutral powers in an alliance hardly less injurious to her interests and her fame. Even the signal victory obtained by the English admiral, Lord Rodney, over De Grasse’s fleet in the West Indies, April 12th 1782, and the equally signal defeat of the Spaniards in their last and desperate attempt to take Gibraltar, failed to restore English self-complacency, or to reconcile the nation of that ministry (Lord North’s) which had brought them into so humiliating a position. These successes were but casual gleams of good fortune that came to lighten the close of a long period of disaster and shame. The phalanx of Lord North’s parliamentary supporters was broken, his ministry was driven from office, the king’s obstinacy was overcome, and the Whigs, under the guidance of Lord Rockingham, were established in power, with the express understanding that they were to make peace by submitting to the independence of the United States. Negotiations were immediately commenced with the American commissioners at Paris, Franklin, Adams, Laurens, and Jay; they were protracted by points of form, and by the breaking up of the Whig ministry through the death of Rockingham; but provisional articles of peace were signed on the 30th of November, 1782, and the cessation of hostilities was agreed upon in January following. Owing to the necessity of including the Continental powers of Europe in the pacification, the definitive treaty of peace was not concluded till the next September. In this, the independence of the United States was acknowledged, their boundaries adjusted, and a share in the fisheries secured to them; while the claims of the other belligerent powers were adjusted by the surrender or return of the conquered towns and islands.

The peace came not too soon for exhausted and bleeding America. The impossibility of satisfying the just demands of the army, the consequent sufferings both of officers and men, and the prospect of being disbanded at the peace and sent home in utter poverty, created a determination among many of them to insist upon the payment of their dues with arms in their hands. Nothing but the moderation, wisdom, and firmness of their great commander-in-chief saved the country from the horrors of military usurpation. Some of the officers so far misjudged Washington as to think that he might be tempted to play the part of Cromwell; but his prompt and stern rebuke put an immediate end to the project. He then exerted himself, and with success, to soothe the passions that had been excited, and to lead the army back to moderate and patriotic counsels. The officers and men were persuaded to accept certificates of debt, with interest, for the arrears that were due to them, and to rely upon the efforts of Congress and the gratitude of the people for their redemption. The troops were quietly disbanded in the course of the summer and autumn of 1783, and towards the close of the year, after the British had evacuated every place upon the seaboard, Washington was admitted to a public audience by Congress, when he resigned his commission, and took a final leave, as he supposed, ‘of all the employments of public life.’ Universal gratitude and respect which amounted almost to veneration, attended him to his retirement at Mount Vernon.

At the close of the war, the United States were burdened with a heavy debt, of which they had not the means even of paying the interest, the public credit was annihilated, commerce and manufactures were in a torpid condition, and the country was almost without a government. During the greater part of the struggle, Congress had possessed no authority but what was tacitly granted to it from the necessity of the case. The individual States were unwilling to give up any portion of that independence which they were striving to vindicate against a foreign power. They claimed complete sovereignty, and were unwilling to appear only as the members of a confederacy, under the general control of a central government. Besides, it was hard to adjust the terms of such an alliance. Perfect equality was hardly to be expected among states that differed so widely from each other in regard to population, wealth, and extent of territory; yet on no terms short of equality would any one State consent to a union with the others. There were also many unadjusted controversies between them, in respect to boundary, and the ownership of that vast territory beyond the Alleghanies which had been wrested from the French. In 1777, a plan of union had been framed and adopted in Congress, after two years’ discussion, not as the best which could be imagined, or as adapted to all exigencies, but as the only one ‘suited to existing circumstances, or at all likely to be adopted.’ It was not to go into effect until it was ratified by all the States; and only four of them could be induced at first to adopt it. Slowly and reluctantly the others gave in their adhesion, the consent of New Jersey and Delaware not being obtained till 1779, and that of Maryland not till 1781, when, at last, the final sanction of the articles of Confederation, as they were termed, was joyfully announced by Congress. But the union thus effected was very inadequate for the ends in view. It did not establish a central government; it was only a league of several independent sovereignties. Congress was the only organ of the confederacy; each State had but one vote in this body on the decision of any question; and in respect to many subjects, the consent of nine States was requisite before the measure could go into effect. And after all, Congress had no power but to recommend measures; it could not enforce them. It could ‘ascertain the sums necessary to be raised for the service of the United States,’ and determine the quota or proportion which each State ought to pay; but it depended upon the States whether the specified amount should be raised and paid, or the recommendation entirely neglected. The fact generally was, that they refused compliance, or paid no attention to the demand; of the many requisitions of Congress, not one fourth were complied with. Excuses or palliations of such conduct were not wanting; the States were very poor, and had heavy debts of their own to provide for. Again, Congress could not impose duties upon imports, and the circumstances of the case prevented even the individual States from exercising this power. If imported goods were taxed by one, they were admitted free by another, which thus obtained a larger share of domestic and foreign trade, while the ports of its rival were deserted. Treaties with foreign powers could not be negotiated, as there was no power in the country to enforce the provisions made in them, the authority of Congress and that of the separate members of the confederacy just serving to paralyze each other. There was no common tribunal to which the States could appeal for the adjustment of their controversies with each other; and the ill compacted league was therefore liable to be broken by the first serious dispute which might grow out of many conflicting interests. It was obvious that this state of things could not long continue without bringing upon the country all the evils of anarchy and civil war.

The condition and temper of the people increased this hazard. The vast exertions they had made during the armed struggle had exhausted their energies, and, to a certain extent, had demoralized them. On the one hand, there was a general feeling of lassitude, an indisposition to make any further sacrifices or efforts, and on the other, a fierce impatience of any act or movement which should even seem to limit their recently acquired, universal freedom. The load of public and private debt was enormous. Of what use was it, that the people had successfully resisted English bayonets, if they were now to be called upon to respect implicitly the orders of the sheriff and the staff of the constable? To what purpose had they braved the wrath of the crown and the parliament, if creditors were still to distress them, and county courts sentence them to fine and imprisonment? Or why tax themselves millions of hard dollars, when they had just gone through a seven years war because they would not pay an impost of three pence a pound on tea? It is no cause for wonder that such questions were frequently asked, or even that the majority of the people were inclined to answer them in a way most consonant with their present feelings. It was a period of general anxiety and gloom—​a true crisis in the history of free institutions, not only in this country, but throughout the world. It was now to be determined whether national independence was to prove a blessing or a curse;—​whether the people, after throwing off all foreign restraint, would be wise and magnanimous enough to impose laws upon themselves, and to respect them when made, or whether they would follow that course of anarchy, license, and civil war which has subsequently rendered the history of the South American republics and of the ephemeral republican governments of the Old World a warning to mankind.

The matter was brought to a crisis in 1786, by the breaking out of a rebellion in Massachusetts, the object of the insurgents being to close by violence the courts of law, thus putting a stop to all legal measures for the collection of debts, and to compel the government to issue paper money, in order that all obligations might be discharged in a much depreciated currency. Job Shattuck and Daniel Shays, formerly a captain in the revolutionary army, were the leaders of the disaffected party, and it was at least doubtful whether they did not count a majority of the people among their followers. Job Shattuck, at the head of an armed force, took possession of the court-house at Worcester, and sent a written message to the judges, ‘that it was the sense of the people that the courts should not sit.’ At last by great exertions on the part of the government and the well-affected citizens, an army of 4,000 men, under General Lincoln, was fitted out, and after a very severe campaign in the midst of winter, this dangerous insurrection was suppressed with but little loss of life. An indirect but happy consequence of this rebellion was, that it convinced the majority of the people throughout the United States that a strong central government was indispensable, not merely for their wellbeing, but for the preservation of society itself from anarchy and ruin. ‘You talk, my good Sir,’ wrote Washington from Mount Vernon, ‘of employing influence to appease the present tumults in Massachusetts. I know not where that influence is to be found; and, if attainable, it would not be a proper remedy for these disorders. Influence is not government. Let us have a government, by which our lives, liberties, and properties will be secured, or let us know the worst at once.’

Accordingly, a Convention of delegates from eleven of the States was held in Philadelphia in May, 1787, to revise the Articles of the Confederation, or, in other words, to frame a Constitution of government for the whole country. The delegates from New Hampshire did not appear till the Convention had been two months in session, and Rhode Island was never represented at all. Among the members present were Dr. Franklin, then in his 81st year, and Washington, who was unanimously chosen president of the Convention. After they had been in session four months, with closed doors, strict secrecy being observed as to all their proceedings, they framed and published the present Constitution of the United States, approved by the signatures of all but three of the delegates who were then present, and which was to go into effect after it had been ratified in nine of the States, by Conventions that were to be called for the occasion. Not without great difficulty, and many compromises of conflicting opinions and interests, had this great step been taken.

The central government established by the Constitution was to consist of three departments, legislative, executive, and judicial. The legislature, called the Congress, was to consist of two branches, the Senate and the House of Representatives. In the former, the representation was equal, each State having two senators; in the latter, the number of representatives was to be proportioned to the population, which was to be ascertained every ten years by adding to the whole number of the freemen three-fifths of the slaves. Two classes of opposing claims were thus adjusted by concessions on both sides. The executive power was vested in a president, chosen for four years, by electors equal in number, for each State, to all its senators and representatives in Congress. The president was allowed a qualified negative on all the enactments of the legislature, as a bill to which he refused his consent was to become a law only when approved by two-thirds of the votes in both branches. The judicial power was vested in a Supreme Court, and such inferior courts as Congress might establish; and it extended to all cases arising under the Constitution, the laws of Congress, and treaties made with foreign powers, to all cases of maritime jurisdiction, and all controversies between States, between citizens of different States, and between foreigners and citizens. Congress was not to prevent the importation of slaves till the year 1808, and slaves escaping from one State to another were to be delivered up. Congress received the power to declare war, to raise and support armies, to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises, to coin money, to establish post-offices and post-roads, to provide and maintain a navy, and to call forth the militia for the purpose of executing the laws, suppressing insurrections, and repelling invasions. The States were prohibited, generally, from exercising any of the functions that were conferred upon Congress. In general terms, the States retained the power of domestic legislation upon all subjects in regard to which their interests were not likely to conflict, or which could be effectually disposed of without the coöperation of the whole Union; while the Federal government assumed the functions which the States were deprived of, and received whatever other authority was needed to enable it to negotiate effectively with foreign powers as the representative of one nation. Numerous provisions were borrowed from Magna Charta and the more liberal portions of the English Common Law, and incorporated into the Constitution, to protect the liberty and the rights of individuals, and to guard against acts of oppression and injustice on the part of either the Federal or the State Governments. The instrument was very practical in its character, and far more simple and concise than could reasonably have been expected, considering the complicated subject with which it had to do, and the difficulty in adjusting the relations of the Federal government to the individual States, and of so distributing power between them that they could work together harmoniously and effectively. As a whole, if judged either by the most approved maxims of political science, or by the light reflected upon it from that experience of more than sixty years to which it has been subjected, it may claim a high place among the best models of government that have been devised in ancient and modern times. It has required but few and slight amendments, and it has accomplished the whole work which it was designed to perform.

Great difficulties were again experienced in obtaining its ratification by the conventions in the several States, to which it was soon submitted. The two parties which were then formed, of its advocates and opponents, divided the people very equally between them, and, with some modifications, these parties have subsisted to the present day. The consent of nine States was necessary; five ratified the instrument soon and with little difficulty. Then the question came up in Massachusetts, where the parties were nearly equal, though the democratic and independent spirit of the people seemed to incline the balance against the Constitution. Everything was thought to depend upon the decision of this State and Virginia, on account of their great weight in the Union, and the influence which they would respectively exert at the north and the south. Governor Hancock and Samuel Adams, the former being the president of the Convention, and the latter one of its most influential members, wavered. The Convention at last decided to propose certain amendments for adoption in the form prescribed by the Constitution itself; these served as an anodyne for the scruples of the two leading patriots, and the ratification was finally carried, though by a very slender majority. The consent of Maryland, South Carolina, and New Hampshire was then obtained, and next came that of Virginia, though after as warm a struggle as in Massachusetts, the opposition being led with great effect by Patrick Henry. The question was now virtually decided, and New York therefore gave a tardy and reluctant assent, which would probably have been a refusal if the measure could thereby have been defeated. North Carolina would only ratify upon certain conditions, and Rhode Island would not even hold a Convention to consider the subject; but as eleven States had adopted the Constitution, their approval was not absolutely necessary, and it was finally given after the new form of government had been some time in operation. It must be granted, in favor of the opposition, that they showed no factious spirit, but calmly acquiesced in the decision of their countrymen. Congress appointed the first Wednesday in January, 1789, for the choice of electors, the first Wednesday in February for those electors to choose a president, and the first Wednesday in March for the new government to go into operation. As had been anticipated, George Washington was unanimously elected president; indeed, the certainty that he would be chosen to this office induced many to vote for the Constitution who would otherwise have opposed it. John Adams was elected Vice-President, and senators and representatives were also chosen to form the first Congress. Proceedings were commenced at New York on the 4th of March, 1789; but a quorum of both houses did not come together till April, and on the 30th of this month, President Washington was sworn into office, and the new government went into full operation.

CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY.

The second session of the first Congress began January 8, 1790. Agreeably to a plan submitted by Mr. Hamilton, secretary of the treasury, Congress proceeded to make provision for discharging in full the foreign and domestic debt, and assumed also the debts incurred by the several States in carrying on the war. To this object the proceeds of the public lands lying in the western territory, the surplus revenue from the duties on imports, and a loan of two millions, were appropriated. This measure immediately restored public credit; certificates of public debt rose to par; and those who had purchased low, realized immense fortunes. Business of all kinds revived, and the country entered upon a career of prosperous activity and enterprise.

At the next session of Congress, after a protracted debate, a bill was passed imposing a tax on domestic spirits, for the purpose of paying the interest on the State debts assumed by the Union. A national bank was also established, not without opposition, mainly on the ground of its unconstitutionality. The party lines between the federalists and anti-federalists (as they were called), which had begun to appear when the adoption of the new constitution was under discussion, became this session more broad and clear. A regular opposition to the administration began to be organized.

Meantime the hostilities of the Indians northwest of the Ohio made it necessary to send an expedition against them. Gen. Harmar was put in command, but he was defeated with considerable loss in a battle near Chillicothe. Gen. St. Clair, who succeeded in command, was also totally defeated. A bill then passed Congress for raising an additional force to the army. The measure was bitterly resisted by the opposition, chiefly on the ground that standing armies were dangerous, and that the proposed increase showed the existence of monarchical designs on the part of the administration. An unsuccessful attempt was made the next session to reduce the military establishment; and the opposition introduced various resolutions, evincing their hostility to the administration. The public press became also the vehicle of vehement attacks, particularly upon the secretary of the treasury, Mr. Hamilton; and party spirit, from day to day, grew stronger throughout the country.

On the expiration of his term of office, however, Washington was unanimously reëlected president, March, 1793; Mr. Adams again vice-president. Beside the still unsettled condition of Indian affairs, this term of Washington’s administration was embarrassed by new difficulties, growing out of the French revolution. The French republic had just declared war against England and Holland; and so strong in the United States was the hatred of the people to the British, and so lively their sympathy with the French, that the opinion was entertained in many quarters that America was bound by every consideration, both of gratitude to an old ally, and sympathy with the cause of republicanism, to make common cause with France.

Immediately on receiving intelligence of the declaration of war, Washington convened a cabinet council, and by their unanimous advice, issued a proclamation, enjoining strict neutrality to be observed on the part of the United States toward the belligerent powers, April 22, 1793. The opposition (anti-federalist) party, through the press, bitterly inveighed against this proclamation, denouncing it as a high-handed assumption of power on the part of the president, ‘a royal edict,’ evincing his monarchical disposition, and also as dishonorable and ungrateful towards France.

In this state of things, Mr. Genet, the new minister appointed by the French republic, arrived in the country, with the object of engaging the coöperation of the United States against England. Misled by the flattering reception he met with at Charleston, where he landed, he immediately began, even before he had been recognized as minister, to excite the people against the government, and carried his audacity so far as to set at defiance the proclamation of neutrality, fitting out expeditions, and giving commissions to American vessels to cruise against the enemies of France, and assuming the power to hold admiralty courts, for the trial and sale of prizes thus made. In these measures he was supported by the opposition, or as it began to be called, the DEMOCRATIC party, which now began, under the influence of the French minister, and in imitation of the affiliated clubs in France, to form democratic societies throughout the country.

Washington demanded the recall of Mr. Genet. The French government complied, and instructed his successor to express its entire disapproval of Genet’s conduct. When Congress assembled in December following, the proclamation of neutrality, and the conduct of Washington towards Genet, were approved by that body, as they were finally by the great body of the nation.

In 1794 Congress passed a bill providing for a naval force to protect American commerce against the Algerines. The slave-trade was likewise prohibited.

There seemed now reason to apprehend the necessity of another war with England. In addition to severe and unjust commercial restrictions imposed by that government, she had proceeded to capture and condemn neutral vessels having on board French goods, or carrying corn and other supplies to France. In anticipation of a war, Congress passed several bills—​for imposing an embargo; for organizing the militia; and for increasing the standing army. Meanwhile information was received that the British government was disposed to redress the grievances complained of, and amicably adjust all differences. John Jay was accordingly nominated and approved as envoy to Great Britain.

All attempts to make peace with the Indians having failed, the war was renewed. Gen. Wayne was appointed to succeed Gen. St. Clair. On the 20th of August, he gained a decisive victory over a large body of the Miamies, and then proceeded to lay waste their country. This victory prevented a general war with the Six Nations and with the tribes northwest of the Ohio. The ‘Whisky Insurrection’ in Pennsylvania is one of the events of this year. It grew out of the duty on domestic spirits; this tax pressed heavily on the inhabitants of the west, and was besides considered unjust in principle. The proclamation of the president being disregarded, a considerable force of militia (fifteen thousand men), under Governor Lee of Maryland, was ordered out. On their approach, the insurgents laid down their arms, and promised submission to the laws.

In 1795 Mr. Jay having concluded a treaty of amity, commerce, and navigation, with Great Britain, the senate was convoked to consider it. Meanwhile, its contents having been disclosed, the most violent opposition was made to it; public meetings were held, and petitions against it were sent from all quarters of the country. The partisans of France and the enemies of England denounced it in the most unmeasured terms. The objections to it were, generally, that it wanted reciprocity; that it gave up all compensation for negroes carried away contrary to the treaty of peace, and for the detention of the western posts; that it contravened the French treaty, and sacrificed the interest of our ally to that of Great Britain; that it gave up in several important instances the law of nations, particularly in relation to free ships makings free goods, cases of blockade, and contraband of war; that it improperly interfered with the legislative powers of Congress, and that the commercial part gave few advantages to the United States. The treaty was, however, ratified by the senate, and signed by the president, August 14, 1795.

In October, after a long negotiation, a treaty was made with Spain, settling some questions of boundary, and acquiring for the United States the right of navigating the Mississippi. Treaties were also concluded with Algiers, and with the Indians in the West.

On the assembling of congress in 1796, it became necessary to make appropriations and pass resolutions for carrying these treaties into effect. This gave occasion for a new display of hostility to the British treaty: and it was only after a debate of seven weeks, that the necessary resolutions passed the house of representatives, and then only by a majority of three. Public opinion at length gradually settled in favor of this treaty, as the only means of saving the country from becoming involved in the wars of the French revolution; and in the sequel it proved of great advantage to the United States. The close of the second term of Washington’s administration was now approaching. Signifying his intention to retire from public life, the Father of his country took occasion to issue a farewell address to his countrymen, replete with maxims of political wisdom, and sentiments of patriotism and virtue.

The personal influence of Washington, due alike to his wisdom, his virtues, and his eminent services, was of the utmost importance in the first working of the new government. During the eight years of his administration, all differences with foreign nations had been peaceably settled, except those with France; and at home the Indian tribes had been pacified. Public and private credit were restored; ample provision made for the security and ultimate payment of the public debt; American tonnage had nearly doubled; the exports had increased from nineteen to more than fifty-six millions of dollars; the imports in about the same proportion; and the amount of revenue from imposts had exceeded the most sanguine calculations. The population had increased from three and a half to five millions; and agriculture and all the industrial interests of the country were in a flourishing state.

The only drawback to this picture of prosperity were the difficulties with France. Discontented at the neutral policy of America, the French republic continued to make demands upon the gratitude of the United States, which could be yielded to only by surrendering the right of self-government. Finding all attempts to involve America in its wars with Europe ineffectual, and feeling aggrieved at the treaty with its enemy, the French government proceeded to retaliate, by adopting certain resolutions injurious to American commerce, under the operation of which, moreover, several hundred American vessels were seized and confiscated. Just before his retirement from office, Washington had recalled Mr. Monroe, and despatched Mr. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney to France, as minister plenipotentiary, to settle the difficulties between the two nations. Such was the state of the country at the close of Washington’s administration.

On the 4th of March, 1797, John Adams became president. The French republic refusing to receive Mr. Pinckney, a subsequent mission extraordinary to that government having also totally failed, and spoliation upon American commerce continually increasing, congress began to adopt vigorous measures for defense and retaliation. The treaties with France were declared no longer obligatory on the United States; an army was raised; and Washington was appointed commander-in-chief. Several engagements at sea took place between French and American vessels. The French government now signified indirectly a willingness to treat, and envoys were again sent from the United States. Before their arrival, the revolution of the 18th Brumaire (November 10, 1799) had taken place; the directorial government was overthrown, and Bonaparte was at the head of affairs as first consul. This event changed the policy of the French government; negotiations were commenced, and a treaty was concluded September 30, 1800.

On the 14th of December, 1799, died George Washington, mourned by the nation as no other man was ever mourned by any people. There have been great men superior perhaps to him in particular qualities and endowments: but in the perfect proportion and harmony of all the qualities of his nature, intellectual and moral, in the entireness and unity of his character, he is distinguished above all the great men whom history presents to our contemplation. In this consisted the secret of the repose, dignity, and grandeur, that through his whole life made so strong an impression upon all who approached him, and gave him such power over them.

Party spirit ran high during Mr. Adams’s administration. Its measures were violently assailed by the opposition, particularly the ‘alien’ and ‘sedition’ laws: by the former of which, any alien considered dangerous might be ordered to depart from the country; and by the latter, combinations to oppose the government, libelous publications etc. were made penal. The unpopularity of these and some other measures gave great strength to the democratic party, and defeated the reëlection of Mr. Adams.

On the 4th of March, 1801, Thomas Jefferson succeeded Mr. Adams as president of the United States. At the next session of congress, several of the most important acts of the preceding period were repealed, particularly those imposing internal taxes, and reorganizing the United States courts. Among the most important events of this period was the purchase of Louisiana from the French for fifteen millions of dollars. Mr. Jefferson’s term of office expiring, he was reëlected, and commenced a second term, March 4, 1805. The same year a war which had been carried on for several years with Tripoli, was brought to a close by a treaty of peace.

The interests of the United States were now becoming complicated with the policy of the belligerent powers of Europe. The peace of Amiens in 1802 gave but a short repose from war; hostilities were soon renewed between France and England, and all the powers of Europe became involved in them. The United States maintained a strict neutrality and engaged in an extensive and profitable carryingtrade. But in 1806, the English government, by an order of council, declared the blockade of all the ports and rivers from the Elbe to Brest. Napoleon retaliated by the famous ‘Berlin decree,’ declaring all the British islands in a state of blockade. This was met by another British order of council, prohibiting all coasting-trade with France.

While these measures, which were partly in contravention of the law of nations, operated very injuriously upon the commerce of America, and tended to embroil her with both the belligerent powers, an old difficulty with England was aggravated by a special outrage. Great Britain had always claimed the right of searching American vessels, and of impressing from them native-born British subjects. They had also impressed some thousands of American seamen, under the pretext that they were British born. In this course the English government persisted in spite of the remonstrances of the United States. In June, 1807, Commodore Barron, commanding the American frigate Chesapeake, refusing to deliver three men claimed by the British, the Chesapeake was attacked by the British frigate Leopard off the capes of Virginia, very much injured and crippled, and the men in question forcibly taken away.

The public mind was greatly exasperated by this outrage. The president, by proclamation, ordered all British armed vessels off the waters of the United States, until satisfaction should be made, which the American minister, Mr. Monroe, was instructed to demand forthwith, as well as security against future impressments from American vessels. The British government declined to treat concerning the general question of search and impressment, but sent a special envoy to the United States, to settle the particular injury in the case of the Chesapeake. Mr. Rose was instructed, however, not to treat until the president’s proclamation was revoked. This being refused, the matter rested; and was not finally adjusted until four years later, when satisfactory reparation was made by the British government.

Meantime, on the 17th of December, 1807, Bonaparte, in retaliation for the British order in council, issued the Milan decree declaring every vessel denationalized that should submit to search by the British, and every vessel a good prize taken sailing to or from Great Britain or its colonies, or any place occupied by British troops.

The embargo failing to compel the belligerent powers to revoke measures so injurious to American commerce, and so subversive of the rights of neutrals, it was repealed on the 1st of March, 1809, and a law passed prohibiting all trade and intercourse with France and England.

Mr. Jefferson declining a reëlection, was succeeded, March 4th, 1809, by James Madison. The state of the country was gloomy. Her commerce was suffering both from foreign and domestic restrictions; and it seemed that she must indefinitely submit to this condition of things, or make war with the belligerents. In passing the non-intercourse act of March 1st, congress had empowered the president to repeal it by proclamation in the event of either of the hostile parties revoking their edicts. The British minister at Washington engaged for his government the repeal of the orders of council, so far as the United States were concerned. The president accordingly notified the renewal of commercial intercourse with Great Britain. But the English government disavowed the engagement of its minister, and non-intercourse was again proclaimed.

On the 23d of March 1810, Napoleon retaliated the non-intercourse act of congress by issuing the Rambouillet decree—​ordering all vessels arriving in French ports, or the ports of countries occupied by French troops, to be seized and condemned. On the 1st of May, congress passed an act excluding British and French armed vessels from the waters of the United States—​with a provision for renewing intercourse with whichever nation should within a given time cease to violate the commercial rights of neutral nations. In consequence of this act, the French decrees were revoked, and intercourse with France was renewed. It had been made a condition on the part of the French government, in revoking its decrees, that the English orders of council should be also revoked. But England affecting to question the fact of the actual revocation of the French decrees, continued to enforce its orders, stationing vessels-of-war just out the harbors of the United States, searching, and in many instances capturing and condemning American merchant vessels. In the period between 1803 and the close of 1811, nine hundred American vessels had been thus captured.

On the 3d of April, 1812, an act was passed by congress laying an embargo for ninety days on all vessels within the jurisdiction of the United States. And on the 4th of June following war was declared against Great Britain. The grounds of war alleged were the impressment of American seamen, and the violation of neutral rights. The feeling of the nation was by no means unanimous in favor of the war. It was protested against by a strong minority in congress, as unnecessary, impolitic, and immoral; and was generally condemned by the federal party throughout the country.

Thus the United States were again at war with England. The contest lasted for nearly three years. The limits of this history forbid any thing but a slight sketch of its events.

In the campaign of 1812, nothing of any importance was achieved by land. The invasion of Canada was planned: forces were drawn to the northern frontier of the Union, and naval preparations made upon the lakes. No footing was, however, gained in the British territory; on the contrary, Detroit and all the forts and garrisons in Michigan fell into the hands of the British, together with a considerable force under the command of General Hull, who surrendered without a battle, August 19; and the Americans were repulsed in an attack on Queenstown, and obliged to surrender, October 13. But on the ocean the American arms were more successful. The series of brilliant naval victories which distinguished the war was commenced by the capture of the British frigate Guerriere by the Constitution, Captain Isaac Hull, August 10. This was followed (August 13) by the capture of the Alert by the Essex, Captain Porter; of the Frolic by the Wasp (October 17); of the Macedonian by the United States, Commodore Decatur (October 25); and of the Java by the Constitution, then commanded by Commodore Bainbridge.

On the 4th of March, 1813, Mr. Madison was reëlected president. The military operations of this year extended along the whole line of the northern frontier. The Americans were signally defeated at Frenchtown by a body of British and Indians, and five hundred men made prisoners, who were nearly all massacred by the Indians after their surrender. York (now Toronto), the capital of Upper Canada, was taken by the Americans, with a large quantity of military stores. On the 1st of June, this year, the American navy suffered a severe loss in the capture of the frigate Chesapeake, Captain Lawrence, by the British frigate Shannon. In the engagement, Captain Lawrence and several brave officers were killed. This was followed by the loss of the Argus. These losses were counterbalanced by the capture of the British brig Boxer by the Enterprise, on the 5th of September, and by a brilliant victory gained (September 10) by the fleet on Lake Erie, under the command of Commodore Perry. This made the Americans masters of the lake, and opened the way to Detroit, which was soon after taken; its fall being preceded by the battle of the Thames, in which the British and Indian forces, under the command of General Proctor, were totally defeated by General Harrison. This victory had the effect of putting an end to the Indian war in the northwest, and of giving security to that frontier. The invasion of Canada was again attemted; but unexpected circumstances concurred to disarrange the plan of operations, and at length the northern army went into winter-quarters, without having effected anything toward the accomplishment of the object. High expectations had been formed of the success of this campaign, and the public disappointment was proportionally great.

At the south, the Creek Indians, instigated by the British, had taken up arms against the United States, and a sanguinary war was carried on in that quarter during the year 1813, and until in the summer of 1814, when General Jackson, having reduced the enemy in several engagements, at length inflicted upon them an almost exterminating defeat at Horseshoe Bend. The remnant of the tribe submitted, and the war was at an end. General Jackson was soon after appointed to the command of the forces at New Orleans.

In the spring of 1814, the American frigate Essex was captured by a superior British force in the bay of Valparaiso. But about the same time, the British brigs Epervier and Reindeer were captured, the former by the United States sloop-of-war Peacock, the latter by the sloop Wasp.

After some ineffectual movements at the north by General Wilkinson, little was attempted by either nation until midsummer, when the British government, free from the burden of the European war by the abdication of Napoleon, augmented their armies in America by the addition of fourteen thousand of the veteran troops of Wellington, and at the same time sent a strong naval force to blockade the harbors, and ravage the towns upon the coast.

On the 3d of July, General Brown crossed the Niagara river from Buffalo, and took the British fort Erie; and on the 4th, after an obstinate and bloody engagement, gained a victory over the British at Chippewa. On the 25th, was fought the battle of Bridgewater, near the falls of Niagara, one of the most bloody battles of modern times. The British force amounted to nearly five thousand men; the American was one third less. The loss of the English was eight hundred and seventy-eight; of the Americans, eight hundred and sixty. The Americans were left in possession of the field.

About the middle of August, a large British fleet arrived in the Chesapeake bay. Six thousand men, under the command of General Ross, landed and proceeded to Washington, burnt the capitol, the president’s house, and the buildings of the executive departments; and then by rapid marches retired to the ships, having lost about one thousand men in the expedition. On the 12th of September, an attack was made on Baltimore; but the place was so gallantly defended by militia and the inhabitants, that the enemy abandoned the attempt. General Ross, the commander-in-chief of the British forces, was among the killed. While the English were thus repulsed from Baltimore, signal success attended the American arms at the north. The naval force of the enemy on Lake Champlain was annihilated by Commodore M’Donough. The engagement took place off Plattsburgh; and while it was raging, Sir George Provost, with a force of fourteen thousand men, commenced an assault on the American works at Plattsburgh; but he met with such a destructive fire from the Americans under General Macomb, that he was compelled to retire, with the loss of twenty-five hundred men, abandoning his military stores, his sick and wounded.

On the 24th of December, a treaty of peace was signed at Ghent. But before its arrival, the last and most memorable battle of the war was fought at New Orleans. On the 8th of January, 1815, the American forces, amounting to about six thousand, chiefly militia, under the command of General Jackson, intrenched before the city, were attacked by fifteen thousand British troops, commanded by Sir Edward Packenham. After three charges, in which they were swept down with incredible slaughter, the British fled in confusion, leaving their dead and wounded on the field of battle. General Packenham was killed while rallying his troops to the second charge; General Gibbs, who succeeded in command, fell mortally wounded in the third charge. The loss of the British in killed was seven hundred; in wounded, fourteen hundred; in prisoners, five hundred: in all, twenty-six hundred. The Americans lost seven killed and six wounded. The joy excited by this victory was merged in the still livelier joy with which the news of the treaty of peace was soon after received. On the 17th of February, the treaty was ratified by the president and senate. This treaty made no allusion to the causes of the war, and settled none of the matters in dispute, and for which it was professedly declared. All parties, however, welcomed the return of peace. At a subsequent convention, signed by plenipotentiaries of the two countries appointed for the purpose, various articles for the regulation of commerce between England and the United States were adopted. Before the expiration of the time within which, by the treaty, all vessels taken by either party were to be held good prizes, several engagements at sea were fought, and several captures made. Among them the American frigate President was captured by a British squadron; and the British ships Cyane, Levant, and Penguin, were taken by the Americans.

At the next session of congress, a bill was passed incorporating the Bank of the United States, with a capital of thirty-five millions of dollars. The charter was to continue in force until the third of March, 1836. This measure was the subject of a very earnest and protracted debate both as to its constitutionality, and as to the principles on which the bank should be established.

Mr. Madison was succeeded in the office of president by James Monroe, March 4, 1817. The country was now at peace, but its condition was by no means prosperous. Commerce had not yet revived, and the manufactures which had been carried on during the war were entirely broken down by the influx of foreign merchandise. In 1818, a war broke out between the Seminoles and the United States, occasioned by the removal of some Indians from lands ceded to the United States by the Creeks in 1814. The Indians were entirely subdued by General Jackson. In 1819, another convention was made between Great Britain and the United States, granting to American citizens the right to fish on the banks of Newfoundland; establishing a portion of the northern boundary; and extending for ten years longer the commercial convention concluded four years before.

A treaty was also this year concluded with Spain, by which East and West Florida, with the islands adjacent, were ceded to the United States.

On the 4th of March, 1821, Mr. Monroe was unanimously elected to a second term of office. Much less unanimity, however, was displayed in the deliberations of the next congress. Some important commercial acts were passed; revolutionary soldiers were provided for by pensions; and the ratio of population and representation fixed at one representative to forty thousand inhabitants.

The year 1824 is signalized in the annals of the country by a visit from La Fayette, the friend and companion-in-arms of Washington, to whose services in the dark day of the revolutionary war the nation owed so much. He passed about a year in the country, visiting every part of it, and receiving everywhere the most enthusiastic tokens of homage and gratitude. He returned to his own country in a national frigate prepared for the purpose, and named, in honor of him, the Brandywine—​the name of the battle in which he was wounded nearly fifty years before. During his visit, congress appropriated two hundred thousand dollars, and a township of land in Florida, as an acknowledgment of his eminent services.

Mr. Monroe retired from office with the respect and good will of all parties. His administration of affairs, both foreign and domestic, had been uninfluenced by party spirit, and characterised by uprightness, prudence, and good sense. The country was everywhere peaceful and prosperous. No choice of a successor to Mr. Monroe having been made by the electors, the choice devolved upon the house of representatives.

On the 4th of March, 1825, John Quincy Adams was inaugurated president of the United States.

Among the noticeable events during this administration, the first to be mentioned is a controversy between the general government and the executive of Georgia, in relation to certain lands held by the Cherokees and Creeks of that state. The general government had agreed to extinguish, for the benefit of Georgia, the Indian title to those lands—​‘whenever it could be peaceably done, upon reasonable terms.’ But the Creeks, at a national council, refused to alienate their territory. After the council had broken up, and a majority of the chiefs had departed, a few who remained were induced to make a treaty, ceding the lands in question to the United States. This treaty was repudiated by the Creek nation. But the governor of Georgia determined to act upon it as valid. To prevent a war, the president ordered General Gaines to repair to the Creek country, for the protection of the Indians; and directed Governor Troup of Georgia to suspend his intended measures. Congress approved the course of the president; and at length a treaty was formed with the Creeks, which gave satisfaction to all parties except the state of Georgia.

The most important among the measures which occupied the first session of the twentieth congress, was the revision of the tariff, with a view to afford protection to American manufactures. The principle of a protective tariff was warmly opposed by the south, and by a large portion of the commercial body at the north; while the details of the bill which was passed were far from satisfactory to the friends of protection.

During Mr. Adams’ administration the prosperity of the United States had increased to an unexampled height. Agriculture, commerce, and manufactures, were every where flourishing. The public debt which at the close of the war, amounted to nearly one hundred and fifty millions of dollars, was almost extinguished. The annual revenue largely exceeded the demands of the government; and at the close of Mr. Adams’ term, there was a surplus of more than five millions in the treasury.

On the 4th of March, 1829, Andrew Jackson was inaugurated president of the United States.

Among the most important measures which engaged the attention of the twenty-first congress, were, the modification of the tariff; Indian affairs; internal improvements; and the renewal of the charter of the United States bank. It was not until 1832 that a memorial came before congress for the renewal of the charter of the United States bank. A bill to that effect passed both houses of congress; but on the 10th of July it was returned by the president with objections. The policy of making appropriations for internal improvements was adopted during Mr. Jefferson’s term of office, and had continued through all succeeding administrations. To this policy General Jackson was opposed, and accordingly returned, with his veto, several bills making such appropriations. In 1832, the hostility of the south to the protective tariff assumed in South Carolina an attitude dangerous to the peace of the country. A convention of delegates assembled at Columbia, November 24; pronounced the acts of congress imposing duties for protection unconstitutional, and of no binding force in that state; and that it was the duty of the state legislature to pass laws to prevent the payment or enforcement of such duties. The remedy thus proposed received the name of nullification. President Jackson immediately issued a proclamation, containing an admirable exposition of the principles and powers of the general government, and expressing a firm determination to maintain the laws. This only increased the exasperation in South Carolina: the governor of the state, by the authority of the legislature, issued a counter-proclamation, urging the people to be faithful to their primary allegiance to the state, and to resist the general government in any attempt to enforce the tariff laws. General orders were also issued to raise volunteers for repelling invasion, and supporting the rights of the state. General Jackson hereupon addressed a message to congress recommending such measures as would enable the executive to suppress the spirit of insubordination, and sustain the laws of the United States.

Everything thus betokened a civil war. But an appeal to South Carolina by the general assembly of Virginia, and the passage of a bill modifying the tariff (introduced by Henry Clay, and commonly known as the ‘compromise act’), joined with a manifestation of firmness and energy on the part of the executive, served to allay the ferment in South Carolina, and led to a repeal of the nullifying ordinances.

On the 4th of March, 1833, Andrew Jackson entered on a second term of office. The charter of the United States bank being about to expire, the president who had before expressed to Congress his doubts of the expediency of continuing that institution the depositary of the funds of the United States, directed the secretary of the treasury, Mr. Duane, to remove the government deposits from the bank. This Mr. Duane declined to do. He was immediately removed from office by the president; and Mr. Taney was appointed in his place, by whom the deposits were removed, and placed in the custody of several State banks. This measure was strongly censured by a resolution which passed the senate, June 9, 1834.

The country was now disturbed with serious apprehensions of a collision with France. By a treaty, negotiated in 1831, by Mr. Rives, the French government had agreed to make indemnity for spoliations committed on American commerce during the reign of Napoleon; but it had failed to fulfill its stipulations. In December, 1834, the president recommended reprisals upon French commerce. This was deemed by Congress not expedient at present. Happily, however, the danger of hostile collision was removed in the course of the next year by the action of the French government in making provision to fulfill its stipulations.

The most important act of the first session of the twenty-fourth Congress, which began December 7th, 1835, was a law directing the deposit, under certain regulations, of the moneys of the United States in several of the State banks, and distributing the surplus revenue among the several States.

In December, 1835, one of the most destructive fires on record occurred in the city of New York. The amount of property destroyed is computed not to have fallen much short of twenty millions of dollars, without estimating the injury and loss from suspension and derangement of business.

Near the close of this year, the Seminole Indians, refusing to remove from Florida to the lands appropriated for them west of the Mississippi, the country became involved in a war with them; and it was not until 1842 that they were finally subdued and sent west.

On the 11th of July, 1836, the receivers of public money were instructed, by a circular from the treasury department, to receive nothing but gold and silver in payment for public lands.

On the 16th of January, 1837, the ‘expunging resolution’ (so called) introduced by Mr. Benton, passed the senate by a small majority. By this act the resolution of the senate passed June 9, 1834—​censuring the president for removing Mr. Duane, and ordering the withdrawal of the United States deposits from the bank of the United States—​was expunged from the journal of the senate. Against this proceeding, Mr. Webster, of Massachusetts, in behalf of himself and his colleagues, read a solemn protest.

On the 4th of March, 1837, Martin Van Buren became president of the United States. Mr. Van Buren’s administration was, in its general policy, a continuation of that of his predecessor. Scarcely, however, had he entered upon office, when the country was overwhelmed by one of the most severe commercial revulsions ever known. For several years previous, the wildest spirit of speculation had prevailed throughout the country. Vast public works were undertaken by States and chartered companies; immense importations of foreign goods were made; and real estate, especially lots in cities and towns, went up a hundred fold beyond its intrinsic value. The multitude of State banks that had been chartered, after the expiration of the charter of the United States bank, and the consequent excessive expansion of the paper currency, had contributed to increase the spirit of speculation. At length a crisis came; and the revulsion was proportionately severe. Some idea of it may be formed from the fact that a list of failures in the city of New York (including only the more considerable, and omitting hundreds of less importance), shows a total amount of more than sixty millions of dollars. All credit, all confidence was at an end. On the 10th of May, all the banks of the city of New York suspended specie payments, and the suspension became general throughout the country. The general government became involved in the universal embarrassment—​the banks in which its deposits were placed having stopped in the general suspension. The government still insisted, however, upon all postages and duties being paid in specie or its equivalent, and even refused its own checks and drafts when offered in payment of custom-house bonds. In this state of things, the president convoked an extra session of Congress, which began on the 4th of September. Agreeably to the recommendation of the executive, as measures for the immediate relief of the general government, Congress passed a law postponing to the 1st of January, 1839, the payment to the States of the fourth installment of the surplus revenue; and authorizing the issue of ten millions of treasury notes, to be receivable in payment of public dues. The president also recommended the ‘separation of the fiscal operations of the government from those of corporations or individuals.’ A bill in accordance with this recommendation—​commonly called the sub-treasury bill, placing the public money in the hands of certain receivers-general, subject to the order and control of the treasurer of the United States—​passed the senate, but was lost in the house.

At the next regular session of congress (December, 1837—​July, 1838), a reissue of treasury notes was authorized. The sub-treasury system was again urged upon the attention of congress, but was not adopted. On the 13th of August, 1838, the banks throughout the country generally resumed specie payments: but in October following, the banks of Philadelphia again suspended, and their example was followed by the banks in Pennsylvania, and in all the states south and west. The banks of New York and New England continued to pay specie. The twenty-sixth congress commenced its first session December 2d, 1839. Among its acts, two only need be mentioned: one for taking the sixth census of the United States; the other, ‘for the collection, safe keeping, transfer, and disbursement, of the public revenue’—​being the sub-treasury system so earnestly recommended by the president. At the second session of this congress, nothing was done of sufficient importance to find a place in this sketch.

The administration of Mr Van Buren was drawing to a close. He was a candidate for reëlection; William Henry Harrison, of Ohio, was the candidate of the opposition. After a contest unprecedented for intensity of political excitement, Mr. Van Buren was defeated.

On the 4th of March, 1841, William Henry Harrison was inaugurated president of the United States. Scarcely had the new president entered upon his office, and organized his administration by the appointment of his cabinet, when he was stricken with sickness; and on the 4th April, one month from the day of his inauguration, he expired. ‘In death, as in life, the happiness of his country was uppermost in his thoughts.’

By the death of General Harrison, John Tyler, of Virginia, the vice president, became, according to the constitution, president of the United States. The passage of a general bankrupt law was one of the earliest measures passed by congress. This law was, however, subsequently repealed. The tariff was modified with a view to further protection of American industry.

Among the most memorable events of this administration is the treaty of Washington, concluded in September, 1842, between Great Britain and the United States, by Lord Ashburton and Daniel Webster, by which the differences about the boundary line between Maine and Lower Canada, long a matter of dispute and ill-blood, were amicably and satisfactorily adjusted.

The disturbances in Rhode Island are a less agreeable subject of record; though happily the apprehensions they excited have been dispelled. In 1841, a convention of inhabitants of Rhode Island framed a new constitution, giving the right of suffrage (which under the existing government was extremely limited) to all free white inhabitants; and proceeded to organize a new government under this constitution. They elected a legislative body, and chose Thomas W. Dorr governor of the state. All these proceedings were considered as unlawful and revolutionary by those opposed to them, inasmuch as they had taken place without any legal warrant, and without being in any way initiated by the lawful and actual government. A civil war seemed inevitable. The legal government applied to the president of the United States, who detached several companies of troops to Newport to await events. Dorr mustered a considerable force of armed men, with two pieces of artillery, and made an ineffectual attempt to gain possession of the arsenal at Providence. Shortly after, he took a position at Chepachet, where his force was increased by volunteers from New York and other states. Upon the approach of a body of the state militia, under General M’Neil, Dorr and his party broke ground and fled, June 25th, 1842. His government fell to pieces.

On the 4th of March, 1845, James K. Polk was inaugurated president. The most important event of this year was the voluntary annexation of Texas to the American Union. In 1846, a war broke out between Mexico and the United States. A rapid succession of brilliant victories by the troops under Generals Taylor and Scott, soon placed the capital and all the strongholds of Mexico in the hands of the victors; but the power to dictate the terms of a peace were used with moderation. The government of the United States assumed the payment of all the claims of its own citizens against Mexico, and agreed to pay $15,000,000 for a boundary line beginning at the mouth of the Rio Grande, then up that stream to the southern boundary of New Mexico, then across to the river Gila, and down to its mouth; with free navigation to the Gulf of California, and thence across to the Pacific. The treaty was concluded May 30th, 1848. In the same year gold was first discovered in the newly-acquired territory of California.

On the 4th of March, 1849, Gen. Zachary Taylor was inaugurated president of the United States. He died in July, 1850, and was succeeded by the vice-president, Millard Fillmore. In September, 1850, California was admitted into the Union. On the 4th of March, 1853, Franklin Pierce was inaugurated president. The ‘Gadsden Treaty,’ by which the Mesilla Valley was acquired from Mexico, was made Dec. 30, in the same year. By act of June 29, 1854, $10,000,000 were appropriated to carry out the treaty; $7,000,000 to be paid upon exchange of ratifications, and $3,000,000 as soon as the boundary line should be surveyed and established.

Thus have been briefly sketched the leading events, political and civil, of the history of the United States, from the first feeble and scattered colonial establishments to the formation of a great and prosperous nation. The great problem of the possibility of a permanent and well-ordered republic, on so extensive a scale, doubtless yet remains to be solved. It depends on the INTELLIGENCE and VIRTUE of the people, whether it shall be solved as the friends of free institutions desire. Theoretically the most perfect of all forms of human government, it requires, beyond any other, the presence of these conditions to preserve it from becoming practically the worst.

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HERNANDO CORTEZ.

The portion of the new world earliest colonized by the Spaniards was the Island of St. Domingo, Hayti, or Hispaniola, discovered by Columbus in his first voyage in the year 1492. For nearly twenty years this island was the only colony of importance held by the Spaniards in the new world; here alone did they occupy lands, build towns, and found a regular commonwealth. Cuba, although the second of the islands discovered by Columbus, remained long uncolonized; indeed it was not till the year 1509 that it was circumnavigated, and ascertained to be an island. At length, in 1511, Don Diego Columbus, the great admiral’s son, governor of Hispaniola, despatched a force of three hundred men, under Don Diego Velasquez, to take possession of the island. Velasquez soon subdued the island, the natives of which offered but little resistance, and he was shortly afterwards appointed governor, subordinate to the governor of Hispaniola. Ambitious of sharing in the glory to be derived from the discovery of new countries, Velasquez fitted out one or two expeditions, which he despatched westward, to explore the seas in that direction. In one of these expeditions, which set out in 1517, commanded by a rich colonist called Cordova, the peninsula of Yucatan was discovered, and the existence of a large and rich country called Culua or Mexico ascertained. Elated with this discovery, Velasquez fitted out another expedition under his nephew, Juan de Grijalva, who leaving Cuba in April 1518, spent five months in cruising along the newly-discovered coast, and trafficking with the natives for gold trinkets and cotton cloths, very skillfully manufactured. The result of this expedition was the importation to Cuba of gold and jewels to the amount of twenty thousand pesos, or upwards of fifty thousand pounds.

Delighted with this success, Velasquez wrote home to Spain announcing his discovery, and petitioning for authority from the king to conquer and colonize the country which his subordinates, Cordova and Grijalva, had discovered. Without waiting, however, for a reply to his petition, he commenced fitting out a much larger squadron than either of the two former; and this he placed under the command of Hernando Cortez, a respectable Spanish hidalgo, or gentleman, residing in the island, and who was at this time thirty-three years of age.

Cortez proceeded with the greatest activity in making his preparations. ‘Borrowing money for the pupose,’ says Bernal Diaz, the gossiping chronicler of the Conquest, ‘he caused to be made a standard of gold and velvet, with the royal arms and a cross embroidered thereon, and a Latin motto, the meaning of which was, ‘Brothers, follow this holy cross with true faith, for under it we shall conquer.’ It was proclaimed by beat of drum and sound of trumpet, that all such as entered the service in the present expedition should have their shares of what gold was obtained, and grants of land, as soon as the conquest was effected. The proclamation was no sooner made than, by general inclination as well as the private influence of Cortez, volunteers offered themselves everywhere. Nothing was to be seen or spoken of but selling lands to purchase arms and horses, quilting coats of mail, making bread, and salting pork for sea-store. Above three hundred of us assembled in the town of St. Jago.’ These preparations were likely to be interrupted. Velasquez, ruminating the probable consequences of the expedition, had begun to repent of having appointed Cortez to the command, and was secretly plotting his removal. Cortez, perceiving these symptoms, determined to outwit his patron. Accordingly, on the night of the 18th of November 1518—​having warned all the captains, masters, pilots, and soldiers to be on board, and having shipped all the stores that had been collected—​Cortez set sail from the port of St. Jago without announcing his intention to Velasquez, resolving to stop at some of the more westerly ports of the island for the purpose of completing his preparations, where he would be beyond the reach of the governor. Nothing could exceed the rage of Velasquez at the sudden departure of Cortez. He wrote to the commandants of two towns at which he learned that the fleet had put in for recruits and provisions, to seize Cortez, and send him back; but such was the popularity of Cortez, that both were afraid to make the attempt.

At last all was ready, and Cortez finally set sail from Cuba on the 18th of February 1519. The expedition, which consisted of eleven vessels, most of them small, and without decks, met with no disaster at sea, but arrived safely at the island of Cozumel, off the coast of Yucatan, after a few days’ sail. Here Cortez landed, to review his troops. They consisted of five hundred and fifty-three soldiers, not including the mariners, who amounted to one hundred and ten. They possessed sixteen horses, some of them not very serviceable, ten brass field-pieces, four smaller pieces called falconets, and thirty-two cross-bows; the majority of the soldiers being armed with ordinary steel weapons. Attending on the army were about two hundred Cuba Indians, and some Indian women. And as religion in those days sanctioned military conquest, there were in addition two clergymen—​Juan Diaz, and Bartholomew de Olmedo.

For nine or ten days the Spaniards remained at Cozumel, making acquaintance with the natives, who were very friendly. Here Cortez, whose zeal for the Catholic religion was one of the strongest of his feelings, made it one of his first concerns to argue with the natives, through an interpreter, on the point of their religion. He even went so far as to demolish their idols before their eyes, and erect an altar to the Virgin on the spot where they had stood. The natives were horror-struck, and seemed at first ready to fall upon the Spaniards, but at length they acquiesced.

While at Cozumel, Cortez had the good fortune to pick up a Spaniard, who, having been wrecked in his passage from Darien to Hispaniola in the year 1511, had for seven years been detained as a slave among the Indians of Yucatan. The name of this poor man was Jeronimo de Aguilar; he had been educated for the church; and as he could speak the language of Yucatan, his services as an interpreter were likely to be very valuable. On the 4th of March 1519, the fleet, consisting of eleven vessels, commanded respectively by Cortez, Pedro de Alvarado, Alonzo Puerto Carrero, Francisco de Montejo, Christoval de Olid, Diego de Ordaz, Velasquez de Leon, Juan de Escalante, Francisco de Morla, Escobar, and Gines Nortes, set sail from Cozumel, and on the 13th it anchored at the mouth of the river Tabasco or Grijalva, flowing into the south of the Bay of Campeachy.

The expedition had now reached the scene of active operations; it had arrived on the coast of the American continent. Cortez does not appear to have been naturally a bloodily-disposed man. He was only what a perverted education and the vices of his times had made him—​a man full of mighty notions of the Spanish authority; of its right to take, by foul or fair means, any country it liked; and not without an excuse from religion to rob and kill the unfortunate natives who dared to defend their territories.

We have now therefore, to record the beginning of a most unjust and merciless war of aggression. As Cortez, with his followers, sailed up the river as far as Tabasco, he everywhere observed the natives preparing to repel his attack, and at length he was brought into collision with them—​of course overpowering them by the force of arms, with immense slaughter. On reaching Tabasco, his soldiers fought their way through dense masses of Indians, who discharged among them perfect clouds of arrows and stones. Pushing through the streets, which were lined with houses, some of mud, and some of stone, the victors reached a large open square in the centre, where temples of large size were erected. Here the troops were drawn up; and Cortez, advancing to a large ceiba-tree which grew in the middle, gave it three slashes with his sword, and took possession of the city and country in the name of his royal master Don Carlos, king of Castile.

Next day another battle was fought between the Spaniards and the Tabascans on the plain of Ceutla, a few miles distant from the city. For an hour the Spanish infantry fought in the midst of an ocean of enemies, battling on all sides, beating one wave back, only that another might advance—​a little islet encircled by the savage breakers. At length, with the assistance of their horse—​a terrible sight to the Indians—​the Spaniards were victorious. The spirit of the Tabascans was now completely subdued. Their chiefs came to the camp of Cortez with faces and gestures expressive of contrition, and brought him presents of fowls, fish, maize, and numerous gold toys representing many kinds of animals in miniature. For the horses, they brought a feast of turkeys and roses! They also gave Cortez twenty Indian girls to attend the army. To his inquiries respecting the country whence they obtained the gold, they replied by repetitions of the words ‘Culua’ and ‘Mexico,’ and pointing to the west. Having obtained all the information the Tabascans could give him, Cortez resolved to proceed on his voyage. Accordingly, after a solemn mass, which the Indians attended, the armament left Tabasco, and after a short sail, arrived off the coast of St. Juan de Ulua, the site of the modern Vera Cruz. It was on Holy Thursday (April 20th), in the year 1519, that they arrived at the port of St. Juan de Ulua, the extreme eastern province of the Mexican dominions properly so called. The royal flag was floating from the mast of Cortez’s ship. The Spaniards could see the beach crowded with natives, who had come down to gaze at the strange ‘water-houses,’ of which they had formerly seen specimens. At length a light pirogue, filled with natives, some of them evidently men of rank, pushed off from the shore, and steered for the ship of Cortez. The Indians went on board without any symptoms of fear, and, what was more striking, with an air of ease and perfect good-breeding. They spoke a different language from that of the inhabitants of Cozumel or the Tabascans—​a language, too, which Aguilar did not understand. Fortunately, one of the twenty Indian girls presented by the Tabascans to the Spaniards was a Mexican by birth. This girl, whose Spanish name of Donna Marina is imperishably associated with the history of the conquest of Mexico, was the daughter of a chief, but, by a singular course of events, had become a slave in Tabasco. She had already attracted attention by her beauty, sweetness, and gentleness, and she had been mentioned to Cortez. Her services now became valuable. The Mexican was her native language; but by her residence in Tabasco, she had acquired the Tabascan, which language was also familiar to Aguilar. Interpreting, therefore, what the Mexicans said into Tabascan to Aguilar, Aguilar in turn interpreted the Tabascan into Spanish; and thus, though somewhat circuitously, Cortez could hold communication with his visitors.

The Aztec visitors who came on board the ship of Cortez, informed him that they were instructed by the governor of the province to ask what he wanted on their coast, and to promise that whatever he required should be supplied. Cortez replied that his object was to make the acquaintance of the people of those countries, and that he would do them no injury. He then presented them with some beads of cut glass, and after an entertainment of wine, they took their departure, promising that Teuthlille, the governor of the province under their great emperor, should visit him the next day.

Next day, Friday the 21st of April 1519, Cortez landed with his troops, and had an interview with Teuthlille, who received the visitors with suspicion; and this feeling was not lessened by the parade of mounted dragoons and firing of guns with which the Spanish commander thought fit to astonish him and the other natives. Sketches were taken of the appearance of the strangers, in order to be sent to Montezuma, the king of the country, who was likewise to be informed that the white men who had arrived on his coast desired to be allowed to come and see him in his capital.

Here we pause to present a short account of the Mexican empire, in which Cortez had landed; also of the character and government of this monarch, Montezuma, whom the Spaniards expected soon to be permitted to visit.

If a traveler, landing on that part of the coast of the Mexican gulf where Cortez and his Spaniards landed three hundred and thirty years ago, were to proceed westward across the continent, he would pass successively through three regions or climates. First he would pass through the tierra caliente, or hot region, distinguished by all the features of the tropics—​their luxuriant vegetation, their occasional sandy deserts, and their unhealthinesss at particular seasons. After sixty miles of travel through this tierra caliente, he would enter the tierra templada, or temperate region, where the products of the soil are such as belong to the most genial European countries. Ascending through it, the traveler at last leaves wheat-fields beneath him, and plunges into forests of pine, indicating his entrance into the tierra fria, or cold region, where the sleety blasts from the mountains penetrate the very bones. This tierra fria constitutes the summits of part of the great mountain range of the Andes, which traverses the whole American continent. Fortunately, however, at this point the Andes do not attain their greatest elevation. Instead of rising, as in some other parts of their range, in a huge perpendicular wall or ridge, they here flatten and widen out, so as to constitute a vast plateau, or table-land, six or seven thousand feet above the level of the sea. On this immense sheet of table-land, stretching for hundreds of miles, the inhabitants, though living within the tropics, enjoy a climate equal to that of the south of Italy; while their proximity to the extremes both of heat and cold enables them to procure, without much labor, the luxuries of many lands. Across the table-land there stretches from east to west a chain of volcanic peaks, some of which are of immense height, and covered perpetually with snow.

This table-land was known in the Mexican language by the name of the plain of Anahuac. Near its centre is a valley of an oval form, about two hundred miles in circumference, surrounded by a rampart of porphyritic rock, and overspread for about a tenth part of its surface by five distinct lakes or sheets of water. This is the celebrated valley of Mexico—​called a valley only by comparison with the mountains which surround it, for it is seven thousand feet above the level of the sea. Round the margins of the five lakes once stood numerous cities the relics of which are yet visible; and on an islet in the middle of the largest lake stood the great city of Mexico, or Tenochtitlan, the capital of the empire which the Spaniards were now invading, and the residence of the Mexican emperor, Montezuma.

The origin of the Mexicans is a question of great obscurity—​a part of the more extensive question of the manner in which America was peopled. According to Mr. Prescott, the latest and one of the best authorities on the subject, the plains of Aanahuac were overrun, previous to the discovery of America, by several successive races from the north-west of the continent where it approaches Asia. Thus, in the thirteenth century, the great table-land of central America was inhabited by a number of races and sub-races, all originally of the same stock, but differing from each other greatly in character and degree of civilization, and engaged in mutual hostilities. The cities of these different races were scattered over the plateau, principally in the neighborhood of the five lakes. Tezcuco, on the eastern bank of the greatest of the lakes, was the capital of the Acolhuans; and Tenochtitlan, or Mexico, founded in 1325, on an island in the same lake, was the capital of the Aztecs.

In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the dominant race in the plains of Anahuac was the Acolhuans, or Tezcucans, represented as a people of mild and polished manners, skilled in the elegant arts and possessing literary habits and tastes—​the Athenians, if we may so call them, of the new world. The most celebrated of the Tezcucan sovereigns was Nezahualcoyotl, who reigned early in the fifteenth century. By this prince a revolution was effected in the political state of the valley of Anahuac. He procured the formation of a confederacy between Tezcuco and the two neighboring friendly cities of Mexico and Tlacopan, by which they bound themselves severally to assist each other when attacked, and to carry on wars conjointly. In this strange alliance Tezcuco was the principal member, as being confessedly the most powerful state; Mexico stood next; and lastly Tlacopan, as being inferior to the other two.

Nezahualcoyotl died in 1470, and was succeeded on the Tezcucan throne by his son Nezahualpilli. During his reign the Tezcucans fell from their position as the first member of the triple confederacy which his father had formed, and gave place to the Aztecs or Mexicans. These Aztecs had been gradually growing in consequence since their first arrival in the valley. Decidedly inferior to the Tezcucans in culture, and professing a much more bloody and impure worship, they excelled them in certain qualities, and possessed, on the whole, a firmer and more compact character. If the Tezcucans were the Greeks, the Aztecs were the Romans of the new world. Under a series of able princes they had increased in importance, till now, in the reign of Nezahualpilli, they were the rivals of their allies, the Tezcucans, for the sovereignty of Anahuac.

In the year 1502, a vacancy occurred in the throne of Tenochtitlan, or Mexico. The election fell on Montezuma II, the nephew of the deceased monarch, a young man who had already distinguished himself as a soldier and a priest or sage, and who was noted, as his name—​Montezuma (sorrowful man)—​implied, for a certain gravity and sad severity of manner. The first years of Montezuma’s reign were spent in war. Carrying his victorious arms as far as Nicaragua and Honduras in the south, and to the shores of the Mexican gulf in the east, he extended the sovereignty of the triple confederacy, of which he was a member, over an immense extent of territory. Distant provinces he compelled to pay him tribute; and the wealth of Anahuac flowed from all directions towards the valley of Mexico. Haughty and severe in his disposition, and magnificent in his tastes, he ruled like an Oriental despot over the provinces which he had conquered; and the least attempt at rebellion was fearfully punished, captives being dragged in hundreds to the capital to be slaughtered on the stone of human sacrifice in the great war temple. Nor did Montezuma’s own natural-born subjects stand less in dread of him. Wise, liberal, and even generous in his government, his inflexible justice, and his lordly notions of his own dignity, made him an object less of affection than of awe and reverence. In his presence his nobles spoke in whispers; in his palace he was served with a slavish homage; and when he appeared in public, his subjects vailed their faces, as unworthy to gaze upon his person. The death of Nezahualpilli, in 1516, made him absolute sovereign in Anahuac. On the death of that king, two of his sons, Cacama and Ixtlilxochitl, contended for the throne of Tezcuco. Montezuma sided with Cacama; and the dispute was at length ended by a compromise between the two brothers, by which the kingdom was divided into two parts—​Cacama obtaining the southern half with the city of Tezcuco, and Ixtlilxochitl the northern half.

Thus, at the period of the arrival of the Spaniards, Montezuma was absolute sovereign of nearly the whole of that portion of central America which lies between the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean—​the kings of Tezcuco and Tlacopan being nominally his confederates and counselors, according to the ancient treaty of alliance between the three states, but in reality his dependents. The spot where Cortez had landed was in one of the maritime provinces of Montezuma’s dominions.

It is a singular but well-authenticated fact, that at the time the Spaniards landed in America a general expectation prevailed among the natives of the arrival of a mysterious race of white men from the East, who were to conquer the country. This was especially the case in Mexico. There was a tradition among the Mexicans that, some ages before the arrival of the Spaniards, and while yet the Aztec empire was in its infancy, there appeared in Anahuac a divine personage called Quetzalcoatl. He was a man of benevolent aspect, tall in stature, with a white complexion, long dark hair, and a flowing beard; and he came from the East. He resided in Anahuac for many years, teaching the Mexicans numerous arts and sciences, and reforming their manners; and under his care the country flourished and became happy. At length some difference arose between him and the Mexicans, and they no longer paid respect to the words of the good Quetzalcoatl. He then announced to them that he was going to depart from their country. Proceeding eastward, delaying a little while at Cholula, a city which ever afterwards was regarded as sacred, he arrived at the sea-shore. Embarking on board a little skiff made of serpents’ skins, he pushed out to sea, and as the Mexicans strained their eyes after him, he disappeared in the distance, going, as it seemed, to the East. Before he departed, however, he delivered a prophecy, that at some future time people of his race, with white complexions like his, would come from the East to conquer and possess the country.

The tradition of Quetzalcoatl’s prophecy was rife among the natives of Anahuac when Cortez arrived, and it was with a kind of religious awe that Montezuma and his people heard of the arrival of the white men in their ‘water-houses.’ Cortez and his men constituted, as we have seen, this body. Teuthlille’s messengers, announcing their arrival, had already reached Montezuma; and he was deliberating in what manner he should receive the strangers. In order to learn his decision, let us return to the Spaniards on the sea-coast.

The Spaniards, supplied by the natives with plenty of everything which they required, were waiting the return of the messengers to Montezuma. After six days they returned, accompanied by Teuthlille. They bore with them a splendid present from Montezuma to the Spanish emperor. It consisted of loads of finely-wrought cotton, ornamented with featherwork; and a miscellaneous collection of jewels and articles of gold and silver, richly carved, of which the most attractive were two circular plates as large as carriage-wheels, one of gold, valued at more than fifty thousand pounds, and intended to represent the sun; the other of silver, and representing the moon. As they gazed on the kingly present, the Spaniards could scarcely contain their raptures. The message which accompanied it, however, was less satisfactory. Montezuma was happy to hear of the existence of his brother, the king of Spain, and wished him to consider him as his friend; he could not, however, come to see the Spaniards, and it was too far for them to come and visit him. He therefore hoped they would depart, and carry his respects to his brother, their monarch.

To this Cortez, thanking Montezuma for his present, replied that he could not leave the country without being able to say to his king that he had seen Montezuma with his own eyes; and the ambassadors again departed, carrying a sorry present from Cortez to Montezuma. After another interval of six days they returned, with another gift little inferior in value of the former, and informed Cortez that the great Montezuma had received his present with satisfaction, but that, as to the interview, he could not permit any more to be said on the subject. Cortez, though greatly mortified, thanked them politely, and returned to Montezuma a second message to the same effect as the former, but couched in more decided language. The Mexicans withdrew in distrust, and ceased to barter with the Spaniards, or to bring them supplies.

Meanwhile differences had been springing up among the Spaniards themselves, the partisans of Velasquez insisting that they ought now to return to Cuba, and that it was folly to think of founding a settlement. Pretending to yield to the clamors of these persons, Cortez issued orders for embarkation on the following day. Immediately the other party, consisting of the friends of Cortez, flocked to his tent, and implored him not to give up the enterprise which had been so successfully begun. This was precisely what Cortez wished. Accordingly, after some delay he seemed to yield; and revoked the order for embarkation, he announced his willingness to found a settlement in the name of the Spanish sovereign. Forthwith the new city, although not a stone of it had yet been raised, and the site had alone been determined on, was named Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz—​‘The Rich Town of the True Cross.’ Magistrates were immediately appointed in the king’s name; the two captains Puerto Carrero and Montejo, the latter a friend of Velasquez, being nominated alcaldes, and others to different offices. ‘Thus,’ says Mr. Prescott, ‘by a single stroke of the pen the camp was transformed into a civil community.’

At the first sitting of the new magistracy, Cortez appeard before it, with his cap doffed, and formally resigned his commission from Velasquez into its hands. He then withdrew; but after a short time was recalled, and informed that he had been unanimously appointed by them, in the king’s name, ‘Captain-General and Chief-Justice of the colony.’ Thus, by a clever stroke of policy, had Cortez shaken off all connection with Velasquez. He held his command now directly from the king, and could be superseded only by royal authority. The friends of Velasquez were at first furious with rage; but Cortez at length soothed them into acquiescence.

A little before the conclusion of these proceedings, an event of some consequence happened. This was the arrival in the Spanish camp of five Indians, differing in dress and language from the Mexicans. They informed Cortez that they were a deputation sent by the caçique of Cempoalla, a city at a little distance on the sea-coast, the capital of the Totonacs, a nation which had been recently conquered by Montezuma, and was now groaning under his yoke. They were sent by their caçique to beg a visit of the Spaniards to Campoalla. A light instantly flashed upon the mind of Cortez. He saw that Montezuma’s empire was not so firmly compacted as he had supposed, and that it might be possible to divide it against itself, and so overthrow it. He therefore dismissed the ambassadors kindly, and promised a speedy visit to Campoalla.

Accordingly, as soon as the disturbance which had arisen among his men was quashed, Cortez marched to Campoalla, a city not rich, but prettily built, and containing a population, as it appeared, of about thirty thousand inhabitants. He was cordially received by the caçique, a large and very corpulent man. Remaining some time in Campoalla and its neighborhood, while the city of Villa Rica was being built, the Spaniards soon gained the reverence and good-will of the inhabitants, the Totonacs, who willingly submitted themselves to the dominion of the distant monarch Don Carlos, of whom the Spaniards told them. Here the Spaniards were horrified by the symptoms of human sacrifice, which were perpetually visible in the temples—​the blood-stained walls, and the fragments of human flesh which lay about; and, fired with religious enthusiasm, they resolved to put a stop to such practices by tearing down the idols. Cortez informed the caçique of his intention; but although the announcement filled him with speechless dismay, no opposition was offered, and the idols were broken in pieces, and burnt before the eyes of the Totonacs, while the priests went about shrieking like demons. ‘These priests,’ we are told, ‘were dressed in long black mantles, like sheets with hoods: their robes reached to their feet. Their long hair was matted together with clotted blood; with some it reached to the waist, and with others to the feet: their ears were torn and cut, and they smelt horribly, as it were of sulphur and putrid flesh.’

The destruction of their idols did not alienate the Totonacs from the Spaniards; on the contrary, it raised their opinion of them, inasmuch as they saw the gods patient under the indignity. The intercourse of the two parties, therefore, continued; and, by his frequent conversations with the caçique, Cortez gained greater insight every day into the condition of Montezuma’s empire.

By this time the town of Villa Rica had been nearly finished, and nothing remained to prevent the Spaniards from commencing their march into the interior. Before beginning it, however, Cortez deemed it advisable to send a report of his proceedings to Spain, to be laid before the king, knowing that Velasquez must have represented his conduct in very disadvantageous terms to the home government. Accordingly, Cortez drew up one letter, and the magistrates of the new colony another, detailing the whole of the incidents of the expedition down to the foundation of Villa Rica, and announcing that they were on the point of commencing their march into the heart of the country. To increase the effect of the letters, they were accompanied by nearly all the gold that had been collected, together with the splendid gifts of Montezuma, and such curiosities as might interest the learned of Spain. The business of carrying these letters to the king was intrusted to Montejo and Puerto Carrero, and they were instructed, above all, to endeavor to secure the appointment of Cortez as captain-general of the colony. On the 26th of July 1519, the little ship set sail, freighted with a more precious cargo than had ever yet been packed within the timbers of a vessel from the new world. The pilot was instructed to make direct for Spain, landing at no intermediate station, and especially avoiding Cuba.

The departure of this vessel seems to have raised thoughts of home in the minds of some of those who were left behind. A conspiracy was formed by some of the soldiers and sailors, along with the clergyman Diaz, to sieze a vessel and return to Cuba. The conspiracy was discovered; two of the ringleaders were hanged, and the rest whipped or confined. Foreseeing, however, that such conspiracies would be constantly occurring, unless effectual means were taken to prevent them, Cortez came to the resolution, almost unparalleled in the annals of heroism, of destroying the ships which had brought him to Mexico. Accordingly, taking counsel with a few of his most attached followers, he procured a report from the pilots that the vessels were not seaworthy, and caused them to be broken in pieces and sunk, before the majority were aware of his design. When the Spaniards thus saw themselves shut up in a strange and populous country, with no means of retreat, their first impulse was one of rage and despair, and Cortez had nearly fallen a sacrifice. As he foresaw, however, the daring act had the effect of bracing his men to a pitch of resolution all but supernatural. Besides, by the destruction of the fleet, he obtained a reinforcement of a hundred and ten men—​the mariners formerly employed in the ships being now converted into soldiers, and very good ones, as it afterwards proved.

All being now ready, Cortez, leaving a considerable force as a garrison to the new settlement of Villa Rica, under the command of Juan de Escalante, set out from the territory of the Totonacs, on his march inland, on the 16th of August 1519. His army consisted of four hundred Spaniards on foot, and fifteen horse, accompanied by thirteen hundred Cempoallan warriors, and a thousand tamanes, or Indian body slaves, furnished by the caçique of Cempoalla, who were to carry the heavy burdens, and perform other laborious offices. Advancing through the tierra caliente, they began to ascend the mountains which separate it from the vast table-land of Anahuac. A few days’ march across the tierra templada and the tierra fria, brought the Spaniards to a small mountain province of Tlascala, situated about half-way between the sea-coast and the Mexican valley. The Tlascalans were a brave and high-spirited people, of the same race as the Aztecs. They had refused, however, to submit to the empire of Montezuma, and were the only people in Anahuac who bade defiance to his power, preferring poverty and hardship in their mountain home to the loss of independence. The government of Tlascala was a kind of feudalism. Four lords or caçiques held their courts in different quarters of the same city, independently of each other, and yet mutually allied; and under these four chieftans the Tlascalan population, nobles and commons, was ranged as subjects. On the approach of the Spaniards, a consultation was held among the Tlascalan lords and their counselors as to how the strangers should be received; some being inclined to welcome them, in hopes of being able, by their assistance, to cope with Montezuma; others maintaining that the Spaniards were enemies, who ought to be repulsed by all means. The latter opinion prevailed, and three desperate battles were fought between the Tlascalans under the command of Xicotencatl, a brave and able young chief, the son of one of the four caçiques, and the Spanish invaders. These engagements were far more serious than the battles which the Spaniards had fought with the Tabascans; and it required the utmost exertion of Castilian valor, directed by all the ability of Cortez, to gain the victory. But Indian courage against the flower of European chivalry—​the maquahuitl, or war-club, dreadful instrument as it was, with its sharp flinty blades, against muskets and artillery—​coatings of war-paint, or doublets of featherwork, against Spanish mail—​were a very unequal contest; and, as usual, the losses of the Spaniards were as nothing compared with the apparent fierceness of the struggle. But how could the little army hope to advance through a country where such battles had to be fought at every step? If such were their reception by the Tlascalans, what might they not expect from the richer and more powerful Mexicans? Such were the reflections of the Spanish soldiery. The idea of their ever reaching Mexico, says Bernal Diaz, was treated as a jest by the whole army. Fortunately, when these murmurs were reaching their height, the Tlascalans submitted, and sent ambassadors to beg the friendship of the Spaniards; and on the 23d of September 1519 the Spaniards entered the city of Tlascala, a large and populous town, which Cortez compared to Grenada in Spain. Here they were cordially received by the four caçiques, and especially by the elder Xicotencatl; and in a short time an intimacy sprung up between the Tlascalans and the invaders, and a treaty was concluded, by which the Tlascalans bound themselves to assist the Spaniards throughout the rest of their expedition. Here, as elsewhere, Cortez showed his zeal for the Catholic faith by endeavoring to convert the natives; and it is probable that the same scenes of violence would have taken place at Tlascala as at Cempoalla, had not the judicious father Olmedo interfered to temper the more headlong fanaticism of the general.

While in Tlascala, Cortez received various embassies from provinces in the neighborhood anxious to secure his good-will. About the same time an embassy was received from Montezuma himself, entreating Cortez not to place any reliance upon the Tlascalans, whom he represented as treacherous barbarians; and now inviting him, in cordial terms, to visit his capital, pointing out the route through the city of Cholula as the most convenient. This route was accordingly adopted, and the Spaniards, accompanied by an army of six thousand Tlascalan warriors, advanced by it towards Mexico. Their approach gave great alarm, and Montezuma set on foot a scheme for their massacre at Cholula, which, however, was discovered by Cortez, who took a terrible vengeance on the sacred city. Montezuma, overawed, again made overtures of reconciliation, and promised the Spaniards an immense quantity of gold if they would advance no farther. This Cortez refused, and the Spanish army, with the Tlascalan warriors, left Cholula, and proceeded on their march, met everywhere by deputations from neighboring towns, many of which were disaffected to the government of Montezuma. The route of the army lay between two gigantic volcanic mountains, and the march, for a day or two, was toilsome, and bitterly cold. At last, ‘turning an angle of the sierra, they suddenly came on a view which more than compensated their toils. It was that of the valley of Mexico; which, with its picturesque assemblage of water, woodland, and cultivated plains, its shining cities and shadowy hills, were spread out like some gay and gorgeous panorama before them. Stretching far away at their feet were seen noble forests of oak, sycamore, and cedar; and beyond, yellow fields of maize, and the towering maguey, intermingled with orchards and blooming gardens. In the centre of the great basin were beheld the lakes, their borders thickly studded with towns and hamlets; and in the midst, like some Indian empress with her coronal of pearls, the fair city of Mexico, with her white towers and pyramidal temples, reposing, as it were, on the bosom of the waters—​the far-famed “Venice of the Aztecs.”’

Descending into the valley, the Spaniards halted at Ajotzinco, a town on the banks of the southernmost of the five lakes. Meanwhile Montezuma was in an agony of indecision. When intelligence reached him that the Spaniards had actually descended into the valley, he saw that he must either face the strangers on the field of battle, or admit them into his capital. His brother, Cuitlahua, advised the former; but his nephew, Cacama, the young lord of Tezcuco, was of the contrary opinion, and Montezuma at length sent him to meet the Spaniards, and welcome them to his dominions. Cacama accordingly set out in state, and arrived at Ajotzinco just as the Spaniards were about to leave it. When he came into the presence of Cortez, he said to him, ‘Malintzin, here am I and these lords come to attend you to your residence in our city, by order of the great Montezuma.’ Cortez embraced the prince, and presented him with some jewels. After a while Cacama took his leave, and the Spaniards resumed their march. Traveling along the southern and western banks of Lake Chalco, they crossed the causeway which divides it from Lake Zochichalco, and advanced along the margin of the latter to the royal city of Iztapalapan, situated on the banks of the great Tezcucan lake over against Mexico. To the eyes of the Spaniards, all they saw in their journey seemed fairy land.

ENTRY INTO MEXICO—​RESIDENCE THERE—​DESCRIPTION OF THE CITY.

It was on the 7th of November, 1519, that the Spaniards arrived at Iztapalapan; and here they spent the night, lodged in magnificent palaces built of stone, the timber of which was cedar. From this position the eye could sweep over the whole expanse of the Tezcucan lake. Canoes of all sizes might be seen skimming along its surface, either near the middle, or close to the banks, where the thick woods came down to the water’s edge. Here also, moving slowly along the margin of the lake, might be seen a still stranger sight—​the chinampas, or floating-gardens—​little islands consisting of earth laid on rafts, planted with flowers, shrubs, and fruit-trees, and containing a small hut or cottage in the centre, occupied by the proprietor, who, by the means of a long pole, which he pushed against the bottom, could shift his little domain from place to place. But what fixed the eyes of the Spaniards above all else was the glittering spectacle which rose from the centre of the lake—​the queenly city of Mexico, the goal of their hopes and wishes for many months past. In a few hours they would be within its precincts—​a few hundred men shut up in the very heart of the great Mexican empire! What might be their fate there!

The islet on which Mexico was built was connected with the mainland by three distinct causeways of stone, constructed with incredible labor and skill across the lake, and intersected at intervals by drawbridges, through which canoes might pass and repass with ease. The causeway by which the Spaniards must pass connected the island with the southern bank of the lake, about half way across to which it branched off into two lines, one leading to the city of Cojohuacan, the other meeting the mainland at a point not far from Iztapalapan, where the Spaniards were quartered. This causeway was about eight yards wide, and capable of accommodating ten or twelve horsemen riding abreast. It was divided, as before-mentioned, by several drawbridges; a circumstance which the Spaniards observed with no small alarm, for they saw that, by means of these drawbridges, their communication with the mainland could be completely cut off by the Mexicans.

On the morning of the 8th of November, 1519, the army left Iztapalapan, and advanced along the causeway towards the capital. First went Cortez, with his small body of horse; next came the Spanish foot, amounting to not more than four hundred men; after them came the Indian tamanes, carrying the baggage; and last of all came the Tlascalan warriors, to the number of about five thousand. As they moved along the causeway, the inhabitants of the city crowded in myriads to gaze at them, some finding standing-room on the causeway itself, others skimming along the lakes in canoes, and clambering up the sides of the causeway. A little more than half way across, and at a distance of a mile and a half from the city, the branch of the causeway on which the Spaniards were marching was joined by the other branch; and here the causeway widened for a small space, and a fort or gateway was erected, called the Fort of Xoloc. On arriving at the gateway, the army was met by a long procession of Aztec nobles, richly clad, who came to announce the approach of the emperor himself to welcome the Spaniards to his capital. Accordingly, when the remainder of the causeway had been almost traversed, and the van of the army was near the threshold of the city, a train was seen advancing along the great avenue. ‘Amidst a crowd of Indian nobles, preceded by three officers of state bearing golden wands, the Spaniards saw the royal palanquin of Montezuma, blazing with burnished gold. It was borne on the shoulders of nobles, and over it a canopy of gaudy featherwork, powdered with jewels, and fringed with silver, and was supported by four attendants of the same rank. They were barefooted, and walked with a slow measured pace, and with eyes bent on the ground. When the train had come within a convenient distance, it halted; and Montezuma, descending from his litter, came forward, leaning on the arms of the lords of Tezcuco and Iztapalapan—​the one his nephew, the other his brother. As the monarch advanced under the canopy, the obsequious attendants strewed the ground with cotton tapestry, that his imperial feet might not be contaminated by the rude soil. His subjects, of high and low degree, who lined the sides of the causeway, bent forward with their eyes fastened on the ground as he passed, and some of the humbler class prostrated themselves before him.’

Cortez and the Mexican emperor now stood before each other. When Cortez was told that the great Montezuma approached, he dismounted from his horse, and advanced towards him with much respect. Montezuma bade him welcome, and Cortez replied with a suitable compliment. After some ceremonies, and the exchange of presents, Montezuma and his courtiers withdrew, the Spaniards following. Advancing into the city, wondering at all they saw—​the long streets, the houses which, in the line along which they passed, belonged mostly to the noble and wealthy Mexicans, built of red stone, and surmounted with parapets or battlements; the canals which here and there intersected the streets, crossed by bridges; and the large open squares which occurred at intervals—​the Spaniards were conducted to their quarters, situated in an immense square in the centre of the city, adjoining the temple of the great Mexican war-god. Montezuma was waiting to receive them; and the Spaniards were surprised and delighted with the princely generosity with which he supplied their wants.

Next day Cortez paid a visit to Montezuma in his palace, attended by some of his principal officers. In the conversation which ensued, Cortez broached the topic of religion, and informed Montezuma ‘that we were all brothers, the children of Adam and Eve, and that as such, our emperor, lamenting the loss of souls in such numbers as those which were brought by the Mexican idols into everlasting flames, had sent us to apply a remedy thereto by putting an end to the worship of these false gods.’ These remarks seemed to displease Montezuma, who, however, made a polite reply. Day after day the intercourse between Cortez and Montezuma was renewed; the Spanish soldiers also became gradually familiar with the Mexicans. Bernal Diaz, the old soldier of Cortez, to whom we are indebted for the most minute and interesting account of the Conquest, thus describes Montezuma and his household: ‘The great Montezuma was at this time aged about forty years, of good stature, well-proportioned, and thin; his complexion was much fairer than that of the Indians; he wore his hair short, just covering his ears, with very little beard, well arranged, thin, and black. His face was rather long, with a pleasant countenance, and good eyes; gravity and good-humor were blended together when he spoke. He was very delicate and clean in his person, bathing himself every evening. He had a number of mistresses of the first families, and two princesses, his lawful wives. He had two hundred of his nobility as a guard, in apartments adjoining his own. They entered his apartment barefooted, their eyes fixed on the ground, and making three inclinations of the body as they approached him. In addressing him, they said, ‘Lord; my lord; great lord.’ His cooks had upward of thirty different ways of dressing meat, and they had earthen vessels so contrived as to keep it always hot. For the table of Montezuma himself above three hundred dishes were dressed, and for his guards above a thousand. It is said that at times the flesh of young children was dressed for him; but the ordinary meats were domestic fowls, pheasants, geese, partridges, quails, venison, Indian hogs, pigeons, hares, and rabbits, with many other animals and birds peculiar to the country. At his meals, in the cold weather, a number of torches of the bark of a wood which makes no smoke, and has an aromatic smell, were lighted; and, that they might not throw too much heat, screens ornamented with gold, and painted with figures of idols, were placed before them. Montezuma was seated on a low throne or chair, at a table proportioned to the height of his seat. The table was covered with white cloths and napkins, and four beautiful women presented him with water for his hands. Then two other women brought small cakes of bread; and when the king began to eat, a large screen of wood gilt was placed before him, so that people should not, during that time, see him. He was served on earthenware of Cholula, red and black. While the king was at table, no one of his guards, or in the vicinity of his apartment, dared for their lives make any noise. Fruit of all the kinds that the country produced was laid before him; he ate very little; but from time to time a liquor, prepared from cocoa, and of a stimulative quality, as we were told, was presented to him in golden cups. At different intervals during the time of dinner there entered certain Indians, hump-backed, very deformed and ugly, who played tricks of buffoonery; and others who, they said, were jesters. There was also a company of singers and dancers, who afforded Montezuma much entertainment. During the time Montezuma was at dinner, two very beautiful women were busily employed making small cakes with eggs, and other things mixed therein. These were delicately white; and when made, they presented them to him on plates covered with napkins. After he had dined, they presented to him three little canes, highly ornamented, containing liquid amber, mixed with an herb they call tobacco; and when he had sufficiently viewed and heard the singers, dancers, and buffoons, he took a little of the smoke of one of these canes, and then laid himself down to sleep; and thus his principal meal concluded.’

After describing other parts of Montezuma’s household, including a great aviary or collection of birds, and a menagerie, the chronicler gives us an account of Cortez’s first tour through the city, accompanied by Montezuma. They first visited the great bazaar or market, held in the western part of the city. ‘When we arrived there, we were astonished at the crowds of people, and the regularity which prevailed, as well as at the vast quantities of merchandise which those who attended us were assiduous in pointing out. Each kind had its particular place of sale, which was distinguished by a sign. The articles consisted of gold, silver, jewels, feathers, mantles, chocolate, skins, dressed and undressed, sandals, and other manufactures of the roots and fibres of nequen, and great numbers of male and female slaves, some of whom were fastened by the neck in collars to long poles. The meat market was stocked with fowls, game, and dogs. Vegetables, fruits, articles of food ready dressed, salt, bread, honey, and sweet pastry made in various ways, were also sold here. Other places in the square were appropriated to the sale of earthenware, wooden household furniture, such as tables and benches, firewood, paper, sweet canes filled with tobacco, mixed with liquid amber, copper axes and working-tools, and wooden vessels highly painted. Numbers of women sold fish, and little loaves made of a certain mud which they find in the lake, and which resembles cheese. The makers of stone-blades were busily employed shaping them out of the rough material; and the merchants who dealt in gold had the metal in grains, as it came from the mines, in transparent tubes, so that they could be reckoned; and the gold was valued at so many mantles, or so many xiquipils of cocoa, according to the size of the quills. The entire square was enclosed in piazzas, under which great quantities of grain were stored, and where were also shops for various kinds of goods. Courts of justice, where three judges sat to settle disputes which might arise in the market, occupied a part of the square, their under-officers, or policemen, being in the market inspecting the merchandise.’

Proceeding from the market-place through various parts of the city, the Spaniards came to the great teocalli, or temple, in the neighborhood of their own quarters. It was a huge pyramidal structure, consisting of five stories, narrowing above each other like the tubes of an extended spy-glass (only square in shape), so as to leave a clear pathway round the margin of each story. The ascent was by means of a stone stair, of a hundred and fourteen steps. Arrived at the summit, Cortez and his companions found it to be a large flat area, laid with stone; at one end of which they shuddered as they saw a block of jasper, which they were told was the stone on which the human victims were laid when the priests tore out their hearts to offer to their idols: at the other end was a tower of three stories, in which were the images of the two great Mexican deities Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipoca, and a variety of articles pertaining to their worship. ‘From the top of the temple,’ says Bernal Diaz, ‘we had a clear prospect of the three causeways by which Mexico communicated with the land, and we could now perceive that in this great city, and all the others of the neighborhood which were built in the water, the houses stood separate from each other, communicating only by small drawbridges and by boats, and that they were built with terraced tops. The noise and bustle of the market-place below us could be heard almost a league off; and those who had been at Rome and Constantinople said that, for convenience, regularity, and population, they had never seen the like.’ At the request of Cortez, Montezuma, though with apparent reluctance, led the Spaniards into the sanctuary or tower where the gods were. ‘Here,’ says Diaz, ‘were two altars, highly adorned with richly-wrought timbers on the roof, and over the altars gigantic figures resembling very fat men. The one on the right was their war-god, with a great face and terrible eyes. This figure was entirely covered with gold and jewels, and his body bound with golden serpents; in his right hand he held a bow, and in his left a bundle of arrows. Before the idol was a pan of incense, with three hearts of human victims, which were burning, mixed with copal. The whole of that apartment, both walls and floor, was stained with human blood in such quantity as to cause a very offensive smell. On the left was the other great figure, with a countenance like a bear, and great shining eyes of the polished substance whereof their mirrors are made. The body of this idol was also covered with jewels. An offering lay before him of five human hearts. In this place was a drum of most enormous size, the head of which was made of the skins of large serpents: this instrument, when struck, resounded with a noise that could be heard to the distance of two leagues, and so doleful, that it deserved to be named the music of the infernal regions.’

This state of things could not last. Cortez, of course, had no intention of leaving Mexico, now that he had made good his quarters in it; but as it was not to be expected that Montezuma and his subjects would continue their friendly intercourse with him if they supposed that he purposed to remain, he saw the necessity of taking some decided step to secure himself and his men against any outbreak which might occur. The step which he resolved upon in his own mind was the seizure of Montezuma. By having him in their power, he would be able, he imagined, to maintain a control over the whole population of the city—​amounting, it is believed, to nearly three hundred thousand. Nor was a pretext wanting to give an appearance of justice to the daring act which they contemplated. Cortez had just received intelligence that a battle had been fought between the garrison which he had left at Villa Rica, and a body of Mexicans under the command of the Mexican governor of a province adjacent to the Spanish settlement. Although Cortez cared little for this occurrence, he resolved to avail himself of it for his purpose; so, after a night spent in prayer for the blessing of God on what he was about to do, he proceeded with five of his officers and the two interpreters, Donna Marina and Aguilar, to Montezuma’s palace. The monarch, as usual, received him kindly; but when Cortez, after upbraiding him with being the cause of the attack made on the Spanish garrison of Villa Rica, as well as with the attempt made by the Cholulans to arrest his own progress towards Mexico, informed him that he had come to make him prisoner, he could no longer contain him self, but gave full vent to his rage and astonishment. But the rage of an Indian prince was impotent against the stern resolutions of the European general; and as the helpless monarch gazed on the unyielding countenances of his visitors, whose fingers were playing with the hilts of their swords, his anger changed into terror: he was seized with a fit of trembling, and the tears gushed into his eyes. Without any resistance, he was removed in his royal litter to the Spanish quarters, giving it out to his nobles and subjects that he went voluntarily, on a visit to Cortez, and desiring them to remain quiet.

Another degradation awaited the unhappy monarch. He was obliged to surrender the governor and three other chiefs, who had led the attack on the garrison of Villa Rica; and these were burned alive, by the orders of Cortez, in front of Montezuma’s palace, the emperor himself being kept in irons while the execution was going on.

All this took place within ten days of the arrival of the Spaniards in Mexico; and for three or four months Montezuma continued a prisoner in the Spanish quarters. Here he was attended with the most profound respect, Cortez himself never approaching him without taking off his cap, and punishing severely every attempt on the part of any of his soldiers to insult the royal captive. Such instances, however, were very rare; for the kindly demeanor of Montezuma, his gentleness under his misfortunes, and, above all, his liberality to those about him, won the hearts of the Spaniards, and made him a general favorite. Nor did Montezuma make any attempt to regain his liberty. Attended by his officers as usual, he received deputations, and transacted business; amused himself by various Mexican games, and appeared to delight in the society of some of the Spaniards, for whom he had contracted a particular partiality.

The Spanish general was now absolute in Anahuac; Montezuma acted under his instructions; and officers were sent out in different directions to survey the country, and ascertain the situation and extent of the gold and silver mines, as if all belonged to the king of Spain. Nor was the formal cession of the kingdom by Montezuma long delayed. Assembling all his nobles at the instigation of Cortez, the Indian monarch addressed them, desiring them to concur with him in surrendering their empire to the Spaniards, who were to come from the rising sun. ‘“For eighteen years,” he said, “that I have reigned, I have been a kind monarch to you, and you have been faithful subjects to me; indulge me, then, with this last act of obedience.” The princes, with many sighs and tears, promised Montezuma, who was still more affected, that they would do whatever he desired. He then sent a message to Cortez, telling him that, on the ensuing day, he and his princes would tender their allegiance to his majesty, our emperor. This they accordingly did at the time appointed, in the presence of all our officers and many of our soldiers, not one of whom could refrain from weeping on beholding the agitation and distress of the great and generous Montezuma.’

Montezuma accompanied the surrender of his kingdon with the gift of an immense treasure, which he had concealed in an apartment within their quarters, desiring it to be sent to Spain, as tribute-money to King Charles from his vassal Montezuma. The sight of this treasure roused the avaricious passions of the Spanish soldiers, and they clamored for a division of the wealth which had been collected since their entrance into Mexico, Cortez was obliged to yield to their demand. The whole wealth amassed during their residence in Mexico amounted, according to Mr. Prescott’s calculation, to about seven millions of dollars of our money, including not only the gold cast into ingots, but also the various articles of jewelry, which were of too fine workmanship to be melted down. The mode of division was this:—​First, his majesty’s fifth was set aside; next, a fifth of the remainder was set aside for Cortez; after that, all the debts of the expedition were to be discharged, excluding the amount vested in the expedition by Velasquez, the payment of agents in Spain, etc.; then the losses incurred in the expedition were to be made good, including the expense of the ships sunk off Villa Rica, the price of the horses killed, etc.; and lastly, certain individuals in the army, as the clergyman and the captains, were to receive larger allowances than the rest. ‘By the time all these drafts were made,’ says Bernal Diaz, ‘what remained for each soldier was hardly worth stooping for;’ in other words, instead of amounting to two or three thousand pounds, as they had expected, each soldier’s share came only to about three hundred pounds. Many refused to take their shares, complaining of injustice in the division, and it required all the skill and management of Cortez to soothe the spirits of the discontented. Not a few, it appeared in the end, were no richer for all the prize money they had obtained than when they left Cuba; for, as Bernal Diaz tells us, ‘deep gaming went on day and night with cards made out of the heads of drums.’

Only one source of discomfort now remained to Cortez. This was the continuance of the idolatrous worship of the Mexicans. This subject occupied his thoughts incessantly; and he could not persuade himself that his efforts would be meritorious in the eyes of God, or even that he could hope for permanent success, until the false gods of the Mexicans had been shattered in pieces, and their temples converted into Christian sanctuaries. Not only as a devout Catholic did he abominate the existence of a false worship in a country over which he had control, but, as a man, as a native of a civilized country, he shrunk in abhorrence from the bloody and sickening rites which formed part of the religion of the Mexicans—​their human sacrifices—​accompanied strangely enough, among a people so polished and so advanced in ingenious arts, by the practice of cannibalism. At length Cortez announced to Montezuma that he must allow at least a part of the great temple to be converted into a Christian place of worship. Montezuma had been a priest, and the proposal was perhaps the most shocking that could have been made to him. He gave his consent, however, and one of the sanctuaries on the top of the temple was purified, and an altar and a crucifix erected in it.

This last act filled up the measure of Mexican endurance. To see their monarch a prisoner, to surrender their kingdom and its treasures—​these they could submit to; but could they sit tamely under an insult offered to their gods? Hither and thither though the city ran the priests, with haggard faces, and hair clotted with blood, stirring up the zeal of the inhabitants, and denouncing woes unless the Spaniards were expelled. The crisis was imminent, and every possible precaution was used to prevent a sudden surprise by the excited Mexicans.

It was now the month of May, 1520, and the Spaniards had been six months in the Mexican capital. Suddenly the little army was thrown into consternation by intelligence of an unexpected kind received by Cortez.

It will be remembered that, before advancing into the interior of the country, Cortez had dispatched a vessel to Spain with letters to the emperor, Charles V, and a quantity of treasures. Contrary to the instructions of Cortez, the vessel touched at Cuba on its voyage; and a sailor escaping, conveyed to Velasquez an account of all that had taken place in the expedition, down to the foundation of Villa Rica. The rage of Velasquez exceeded all bounds. He wrote letters to the home government, and also to the court of colonial affairs established in Hispaniola; and not content with this, he instantly began to fit out a second expedition, which was to proceed to Mexico, depose or decapitate Cortez, and seize the country for the Spanish sovereign in the name of the governor of Cuba. The fleet was larger, with one exception, than any yet fitted out for the navigation of the seas of the new world. It consisted of nineteen vessels, carrying upwards of a thousand foot soldiers, twenty cannons, eighty horsemen, a hundred and sixty musketeers and cross-bowmen, besides a thousand Indian servants—​a force sufficient, as it seemed, to render all resistance on the part of Cortez hopeless. Velasquez at first intended to command the expedition in person; but, as he was too old and too unwieldy for such a laborious task, he intrusted it to Don Pamfilo de Narvaez, described as a man, about forty-two years of age, of tall stature, and large limbs, full face, red beard, and agreeable presence; very sonorous and lofty in his speech, as if the sound came out of a vault; a good horseman, and said to be valiant.’

The fleet anchored off the coast of Mexico, at St. Juan de Ulua, on the 23d of April, 1520. Here Narvaez received information which astonished him—​that Cortez was master of the Mexican capital; that the Mexican emperor was his prisoner; that the country and its treasures had been surrendered to the Spanish sovereign; and that at present his rival was as absolute in it as if he were its monarch. This information only increased his anxiety to come to a collision with Cortez; and, with singular imprudence, he went about among the Indians, declaring, in a blustering manner, that Cortez was a rebel against his sovereign, and that he had come to chastise him, and to set Montezuma free.

Narvaez’s first step was to send three messengers, one of them a priest, to the garrison of Villa Rica, to summon them to surrender. The commandant of the garrison, appointed shortly after the death of Juan de Escalante, was Gonsalvo de Sandoval, a young officer, a native of the same town as Cortez, and who had already won the esteem of his general and of the whole army by his valor and services. When the messengers of Narvaez, arriving at Villa Rica, presented a copy of Narvaez’s commission, and summoned the garrison to surrender, Sandoval, without any ceremony, caused them to be seized, strapped to the backs of Indian porters, and instantly sent across the country to Mexico in charge of one or two soldiers, who carried a note to Cortez, informing him of what had happened. Cortez, after thoroughly gaining them over by kind words and presents, sent them back to sow the seeds of dissension in Narvaez’s army. At the same time he entered into a correspondence with Narvaez, which led to no definite result. As there was great danger that Narvaez would succeed in alienating the Cempoallans from Cortez, if he were permitted to remain in his present position, Cortez resolved to leave Mexico with a part of his men, march to the sea-coast, and, if necessary, give battle to Narvaez. This was a perilous step; but, in the circumstances, it was absolutely necessary.

Leaving a garrison of a hundred and forty men in Mexico, under the command of Pedro de Alvarado, who appeared by far the fittest person for so responsible a post, Cortez set out with the rest of his force, amounting to less than two hundred soldiers, only five of whom were cavalry, and by rapid marches reached the Totonac territories, where he was reinforced by Sandoval and his small body of men. Altogether, Cortez’s army did not amount to more than a fifth part of that of Narvaez. They were veterans in service, however, and, under such a leader as Cortez, were prepared to attempt impossibilities. Narvaez, in the meantime, was in close quarters at Cempoalla, aware that his rival was on his march, but little suspecting that he was so near. On the night of the 26th of May, 1520, Cortez and his brave little band, crossing with difficulty a swollen river which lay between them and their countrymen, advanced stealthily towards Narvaez’s quarters, surprised the sentinels, and shouting the watchword, ‘Espiritu Santo!’ dashed in among the half-awakened, half-armed foe. The struggle did not last long; for Sandoval, with a small body of picked men, springing up the stairs of the house where Narvaez was lodged, succeeded, after a hand to hand fight with the general and his followers, in making him prisoner, after he had lost an eye, and been otherwise severely wounded. On learning the fall of their leader, the rest yielded; and when daylight came, Cortez, ‘seated in an arm-chair, with a mantle of an orange color thrown over his shoulders, and surrounded by his officers and soldiers,’ received the salutations and the oaths of allegiance of all the followers of Narvaez. In his treatment of these new friends his usual policy was conspicuous: he plied them with flatteries, and loaded them with gifts, till his own veterans began to be envious. Thus, by a single bold stroke, which cost him but a few men, Cortez had crushed a formidable enemy, and increased his own force sixfold. Fortune favors the brave! His army now amounted to thirteen hundred men, exclusive of the garrison he had left in Mexico; and of these thirteen hundred nearly a hundred were cavalry. With such a force, he might now prosecute his designs in Mexico with every prospect of success, and bid defiance to all the efforts of the Mexicans to regain their independence.

He was disagreeably roused from these self-congratulations by intelligence from Mexico. Some difference had occurred between Pedro de Alvarado and the Mexicans, in consequence of which the latter had risen en masse, and were besieging the Spaniards in their quarters. Without loss of time he commenced his march towards the capital, leaving a hundred men at Villa Rica. At Tlascala he was joined by two thousand of his faithful mountain allies; and the whole army then pushed on for the Mexican valley, anxious to relieve Alvarado, whom the Mexicans were now trying to reduce by blockade. On the 24th of June they reached the great lake, and marched along the causeway without opposition, but amidst an ominous stillness. Alvarado clasped his general in his arms for joy; and now for the first time Cortez learned the origin of the revolt. Alvarado, suspecting some conspiracy among the Aztec nobles, had treacherously massacred a number of them collected at a religious festival, and the inhabitants had risen to take vengeance for the injury. Cortez sharply rebuked his officer for his misconduct; but the evil was already done, and to punish Alvarado would have been attended with no good effect. Moodily and bitterly, therefore, Cortez expended his vexation on the unhappy Mexican monarch, accusing him of being concerned in the insurrection, and calling upon him to check it, and procure provisions for the Spaniards. Montezuma complied as far as lay in his power: Cortez also used his best endeavors to allay the storm; and for a while it appeared as if their efforts were successful.

The calm was only temporary. The day after the arrival of Cortez, a soldier, who had been sent on an errand by Cortez, returned breathless and bloody to the Spanish quarters. He had been fallen upon by a multitude of Mexicans, who endeavored to drag him away in their canoes for sacrifice, and he had only escaped after a desperate struggle. The whole city, he said, was in arms; the drawbridges were broken down: and they would soon attack the Spaniards in their strong hold.

The news was too true. The Aztecs poured along the streets like a flood, approaching the square where the Spaniards were lodged, while the terraced roofs of all the houses in the vicinity were crowded with slingers and archers, ready to shower their missiles upon the besieged. And now commenced a struggle which lasted seven days and to which there is no parallel in history. Day after day the fighting was renewed, the Spaniards either making a sally upon the besiegers, or beating them back when they advanced to storm or set fire to their quarters. The only relaxation was at night, when the Mexicans generally drew off. The Spaniards were always victorious; but their losses were considerable in every action, and the perseverance of the Mexicans alarmed them. Instead of yielding to their first defeats, they seemed to act on the conviction that they must be defeated continually until the Spaniards were all slain. This resolution astonished Cortez, who till now had undervalued the courage of the Aztecs. His soldiers, especially those who had come into the country with Narvaez, heaped reproaches upon him; although when they saw his conduct in the fray—​the bravery with which he would spur his horse into the thickest of the enemy, the generosity with which he would risk his own life to rescue a comrade from the hands of a crowd of Aztecs—​their reproaches were lost in admiration.

Wearied out by his incessant efforts, and perceiving the hopelessness of continuing a contest against so many myriads of enemies—​for recruits were flocking in from the neighboring country to assist the Mexicans against the common foe—​Cortez resolved to try the effects of negotiation, and to employ Montezuma as his intercessor. At his request, therefore, Montezuma, dressed in his imperial robes, appeared on a terraced roof, where he was visible to the multitude gathered in the great square. A silence ensued, and Montezuma was parleying with four nobles who approached him, when suddenly a shower of stones and arrows fell on the spot where he was standing. The Spanish soldiers tried to interpose their bucklers; but it was too late; Montezuma fell to the ground, his head bleeding from the effects of a blow with a stone. He was immediately removed, and every means used for his recovery: nor was the wound of itself dangerous. But his kingly spirit had received a wound which no words could heal; he had been reviled and struck by his own subjects, among whom hitherto he had walked as a sacred being: he refused to live any longer. He tore the bandages from his head, and rejected all nourishment; and in a short time the Spaniards were informed that their unhappy prisoner was dead. Cortez and many of the men could not refrain from weeping; and the body was surrendered to the Mexicans with every testimony of respect.

The fighting was now commenced with greater fury, and prodigies of valor were performed by the Spaniards; but all to no purpose. Another attempt was made to induce the enemy to come to terms. The only answer was the threat that they would all be sacrificed to the gods, and the appalling information, ‘You cannot escape; the bridges are broken down.’ At last, as death was before their eyes, it was determined by Cortez, and all the officers and soldiers, to quit the city during the night as they hoped at that time to find the enemy less alert.

Towards midnight, on the 1st of July 1520, they left their quarters secretly, most of the soldiers loading themselves with the gold which remained over and above the royal share, and proceeded as silently as possible towards the western causeway leading to Tlacopan, by which, as being the shortest of the three (two miles long), they thought it would be the easiest to effect a passage. In this causeway there were three drawbridges, separated by intervals nearly equal; and aware that these had been destroyed by the Mexicans, Cortez had provided a portable bridge, made of timber, the carriage of which he intrusted to forty picked soldiers. The van of the army was led by Sandoval, with two hundred foot and a body of horse under his command; the baggage, large guns and prisoners came next, guarded by Cortez and a band of veterans; and the rear was brought up by Pedro de Alvarado and Valasquez de Leon, commanding the strength of the infantry.

The night was dark and rainy. The Spaniards reached the causeway without being interrupted. The portable bridge was laid across the first moat or gap, and a great part of the army had gone over it in safety, and were already approaching the second gap, when, through the stillness of the night, there was heard the boom of the great drum from the top of the Mexican war temple, the rushing of myriads of pursuers along the causeway from behind, and the splashing of the oars of thousands of canoes full of warriors, which were advancing through the lake on both sides of the causeway. Showers of arrows fell on the rearguard as they were passing over the portable bridge; and the Aztecs, clambering up the sides of the causeway, grappled with the soldiers, and tried to drag them into the water. Throwing off these assailants by main strength, Alvarado and his men steadily and expeditiously moved on. Meanwhile the vanguard under Sandoval having reached the second gap, were waiting until the portable bridge should be brought up to enable them to cross it. Goaded with the arrows which were discharged upon them in clouds from the Aztec canoes, they grew impatient of the delay, and began to cast anxious glances backward along the causeway for the appearance of the bridge. Suddenly the appalling news was passed along that the bridge had stuck so fast at the first opening that it could not be pulled up. The weight of the men and heavy baggage crossing it had fastened it into the earth so firmly as to defy extrication. When this awful intelligence reached the vanguard, order and command were at an end; uproar and confusion ensued; and, seized with the instinct of self-preservation, each man tried to shift for himself. Flinging themselves headlong into the gap, they struggled with the Mexican warriors in the water, upsetting their canoes in their drowning agonies. Rank after rank followed, each trampling upon the bodies of its predecessors, and floundering among the canoes which lay between them and the opposite side. Sandoval and a few of the cavalry swam their horses across; some of the foot also were able to reach the side of the causeway and climb up; but of the vanguard, the great majority were drowned, or slain, or carried off wounded in the Mexican canoes. Meanwhile on came the rest of the army; men, carriages, guns, baggage, all were swept into the trench, which was soon choked up by the wreck. Over this bridge of broken wagons, bales of cotton, and the dead bodies of their companions and enemies, Cortez and his veterans were able to reach the other side of the trench with less difficulty. Here, joining Sandoval and the few survivors of his band, they dashed along the causeway towards the third and last opening, regardless of the darts and arrows which the Mexicans discharged among them from their canoes. Reaching the third trench, they crossed it in the same manner as the last, but without so much loss, and were rapidly approaching the mainland, when looking back through the dim morning light, they saw Alvarado and his rearguard pent up on the causeway between the second and third bridges, and almost overborne by the Mexicans who surounded them. Cortez, Sandoval, and a few of the horse instantly wheeled round to the rescue; and recrossing the third gap, shouted their battle-cry, and interposed between the Spaniards and their pursuers. This timely succor enabled most of the infantry to escape; and at length all had crossed the opening except Cortez, Sandoval, Alvarado, and a few others. Cortez, Sandoval, and the rest soon followed, carried through by their horses; and only one man remained upon the Mexican extremity of the causeway. It was Pedro de Alvarado; his horse was slain; and he was standing on the brink, surrounded by enemies ready drag him off, should he plunge into the trench. Five or six warriors were already advancing from behind to seize him, when, casting one glance at the opposite edge where his countrymen were waiting him, he planted one end of his long lance among the rubbish which choked up the gap, and, rising in the air, cleared it at a bound. The spot where this tremendous feat was executed still bears the name of Alvarado’s Leap.

The Mexicans now desisted from the pursuit; and the relics of the Spanish army, advancing along the remainder of the causeway, entered Tlacopan. Here they did not remain long, being anxious to place themselves beyond the reach of the Mexicans, and to arrive at Tlascala, the city of their faithful allies. They were now able to count the losses which they had sustained during the night. About four hundred and fifty Spaniards, and nearly four thousand Tlascalans, had been drowned, slain, or made prisoners during the passage along the causeway; a loss which, added to the numbers killed in the battles within the city, reduced the army to little more than a fourth of what it had been when it entered Mexico ten days before. But the most deplorable part was the loss of all the artillery, firearms, and ammunition, not so much as a musket remaining among the five hundred who survived. Still, under this accumulation of misfortunes, his heart did not sink; and his resolution was taken not to leave the country till he had regained his former footing in it, and annexed it as a province to the dominions of his sovereign.

His first object was to reach Tlascala, where he might recruit the strength of his men—​almost all of whom were stiff with wounds—​and arrange his future proceedings. After many difficulties, and another great battle, in which he defeated the Mexicans, he reached it on the 9th of July, 1520. They were kindly received by the generous mountaineers, who withstood all the solicitations of the Mexican sovereign, Cuitlahua, Montezuma’s brother and successor, that they would assist him in driving the Spaniards out of the country.

It was early in autumn before Cortez left Tlascala. His intention was first to punish several states of Anahuac which had revolted during his absence in Mexico, especially the districts of Tepeaca and Cachula; and then, after having reduced the whole country east of the Mexican valley, to return to the capital itself, and take it by storm. With a force so reduced as his, without cannons or other firearms, this was an apparently hopeless enterprise; but hopeless was a word of which Cortez did not know the meaning. Fortunately, while engaged in subduing the eastern districts of Anahuac, he received reinforcements which he never anticipated. Velasquez, ignorant of the fate of the expedition which he had sent under Narvaez, and supposing that Cortez was by this time a prisoner in the hands of his rival, had despatched a ship with stores, arms, and ammunition to the colony of Villa Rica. The vessel touched at the port; the captain and his men disembarked, suspecting nothing, and were instantly seized by the officer of Cortez; nor did it require much persuasion to induce the whole crew to enlist under the standard of a man of whom they had heard so many eulogies. A second vessel sent by Velasquez soon afterwards shared the same fate; three ships sent by the governor of Jamaica to prosecute discoveries, and plant colonies in central America, chancing also to land at Villa Rica, their crews joined the army of Cortez; and lastly, a merchant vessel, loaded with provisions and all the necessaries of war, arrived at the Mexican coast, and was purchased by Cortez—​sailors, cargo, and all.

Having completely subjugated all Anahuac to the east of the Mexican valley, Cortez resolved to found a second Spanish colony in the interior of the country, which should form a half-way station between Villa Rica and the city of Mexico. The site chosen was Tepeaca, and the name given to the settlement was Segura de la Frontera. From this spot Cortez wrote a second letter to Charles V, giving an account of the expedition from the date of the last letter down to the foundation of Segura, and announcing his intention of marching immediately to reconquer Mexico.

It was five months after the date of their expulsion from Mexico before the Spaniards were in a condition once more to march against it. Part of the necessary preparations consisted, as we have seen, in the subjugation of those parts of Anahuac which adjoined the Mexican valley on the east; but another cause of delay was the construction of thirteen brigantines at Tlascala, under the direction of Martin Lopez, a skillful shipwright, who had accompanied Cortez. These vessels were to be taken to pieces, and transported, together with the iron-work and cordage belonging to the ships which Cortez had destroyed off Villa Rica, across the mountains to the great Mexican lake. At length all was ready, and on the 28th of December 1520 the whole army left Tlascala on its march towards Mexico. It consisted of about six hundred Spaniards, with nine cannons, and forty horses, accompanied by an immense multitude of native warriors, Tlascalans, Tepeacans, and Cholulans, amounting probably to sixteen thousand men, besides the tamanes, who were employed in transporting the brigantines. Garrisons had of course been left at Villa Rica and Segura.

No opposition was offered to the invaders on their march, the Mexicans fleeing at their approach; and on the 1st of January, 1521, they took possession of the city of Tezcuco. Cuitlahua, Montezuma’s successor on the throne, was now dead, and his place was occupied by his nephew, Guatemozin, yet a young man, but the most heroic and patriotic of all the Mexicans. The policy of Cortez was first to subdue all the states and cities on the margin of the five lakes, so as to leave Mexico without protection or assistance, and then to direct his whole force to the final reduction of the capital. For four months, therefore, Cortez, Sandoval, Alvarado, and his other officers were employed, sometimes separately, sometimes in concert, in reconnoitering expeditions into various parts of the Mexican valley—​from Chalco, on the banks of the southernmost, to Xaltocan, an island in the northernmost lake. Scarcely a day of these four months was passed in idleness; and it would require far more space than we can afford to do justice to all the engagements in which the Spaniards were victorious, or to all the feats of personal valor performed by Cortez, Alvarado, Olid, Sandoval, and other brave cavaliers. Passing over these, as well as the account of a conspiracy among his men, which the prudence and presence of mind of Cortez enabled him to quash, and of the execution of the Tlascalan chief, Xicotencatl, for deserting the Spaniards, we hasten to the concluding scene.

On the 10th of May, 1521, the siege commenced. Alvarado, with a hundred and fifty Spanish infantry, thirty cavalry, and eight thousand Tlascalans, took up his station at Tlacopan, so as to command the western causeway; Christoval de Olid, with the same number of cavalry and Indians, and a hundred and seventy-five infantry, commanded one of the branches of the southern causeway at Cojohuacan; and Sandoval, with a force nearly equal, the other branch of the same causeway at Iztapalapan. Cortez himself took the command of the flotilla of brigantines. For several days the three captains conducted operations more or less successfully at their respective stations, one of Alvarado’s services having consisted in destroying the pipes which supplied the Mexicans with fresh water, so that, during the rest of the siege, they had no other way of procuring a supply than by means of canoes. The brigantines, when they were launched, did immense service in overturning and dispersing the Mexican canoes, and also in protecting the flanks of the causeways on which the other detachments were pursuing their operations. At length, after much resistance on the part of the Mexicans, the two causeways, the western and the southern, were completely occupied by the Spaniards; and Sandoval having, by Cortez’s orders, made a circuit of the lake, and seized the remaining causeway of Tepejeca, the city was in a state of blockade. But so impatient were the Spaniards of delay, that Cortez resolved on a general assault on the city by all the three causeways at once. Cortez was to advance into the city from Xoloc, Alvarado from his camp on the western causeway, and Sandoval from his camp on the northern, and the three detachments, uniting in the great square in the centre of the city, were to put the inhabitants to the sword. The plan had nearly succeeded. The vanguard of Cortez’s party had chased the retreating Mexicans into the city, and were pushing their way to the great square, when the horn of Guatemozin was heard to sound, and the Aztecs rallying, commenced a furious onset. The neglect of Cortez to fill up a trench in one of the causeways impeded the retreat of the Spaniards in such a way as to cause a dreadful confusion, and it was only by efforts almost superhuman that they were able to regain their quarters. Their loss amounted to upwards of a hundred men, of whom about sixty had been taken alive.

This triumph elated the Mexicans as much as it depressed the Spaniards and their allies. It was prophesied by the Mexican priests that in eight days all the Spaniards should be slain; the gods, they said, had decreed it. This prediction, reported in the quarters of the besiegers, produced an extraordinary effect on the allies. They regarded the Spaniards as doomed men, refused to fight with them, and withdrew to a little distance from the lake. In this dilemma Cortez showed his wonderful presence of mind, by ordering a total cessation of hostilities for the period specified by the Mexican gods. When the eight days were passed, the allies, ashamed of their weakness, returned to the Spanish quarters, and the siege recommenced. These eight days, however, had not been without their horrors. From their quarters the Spaniards could perceive their fellow-countrymen who had been taken prisoners by the Mexicans dragged to the top of the great war temple, compelled to dance round the sanctuary of the gods, then laid on the stone of sacrifice, their hearts torn out, and their bleeding bodies flung down into the square beneath.

Famine now assisted the arms of the Spaniards; still, with that bravery of endurance for which their race is remarkable, the Mexicans continued the defense of the city, and it was not till it had been eaten into, as it were, on all sides, by the Spaniards, that they ceased to fight. On the 14th of August a murderous assault was commenced by the besiegers. It lasted two days; and on the evening of the second some canoes were seen to leave the city, and endeavor to reach the mainland. They were chased, and captured; and on board of one of them was found Guatemozin, with his family and his principal nobles. Guatemozin’s capture was the signal of complete defeat; and on the 16th of August, 1521, the city was surrendered to the Spaniards. The population was reduced to about forty thousand, and in a few days all these had disappeared, no one knew whither. The city was in ruins, like some huge churchyard with the corpses disinterred and the tombstones scattered about.

Thus was the ancient and beautiful city of Mexico destroyed, and its inhabitants slain or dispersed. A monstrous act of unjustifiable aggression had been completed. Following up this great blow, Cortez pursued the conquest of the country generally; and in this, as well as in organizing it into a colony of Spain, he did not experience any serious difficulty. On proceeding to Spain, he was received with honor by Charles V. He returned to Mexico in 1530; and again revisiting Spain in 1540, for the purpose of procuring the redress of real or alleged grievances, he died in 1547, in the sixty-third year of his age. It is very much to be lamented that, in the execution of his purposes of colonization, the monuments of Mexican civilization were everywhere destroyed, leaving nothing to future generations but the broken relics of palaces, temples, and other objects of art, scattered amidst the wilderness. Some of these ruined monuments, recently explored by Stephens and other travelers, show that the ancient Mexicans had made remarkable advances in social life as well as in the arts, more particularly architecture; and what renders all such relics the more interesting to the archæologist, is the growing conviction, that the old Mexican civilization was of an original type—​a thing noway derived from, or connected with, the civilization of Egypt, or any other nation in the eastern hemisphere.

It is consolatory to know that the Spaniards have not succeeded in making Mexico a perpetual tributary of their rapacious monarchy. The cruelties they committed seem to have contained in themselves the elements of retribution. After a career of indolence, oppression, and bigotry, extending to comparatively recent times, their yoke has been thrown off; and their feeble and ignorant successors may be said to be in the course of coming under the thraldom of their Anglo-Saxon neighbors. It is difficult to compassionate the fate which appears to await the slothful and proud race whose ancestors laid the ancient empire of Mexico in ruins.

William Penn, the celebrated founder of Pennsylvania, was born in London on the 14th of October, 1644. He was the only son of Sir William Penn, a naval commander of distinction, first during the Protectorate of Cromwell, and afterwards in the service of Charles the II, from whom he received the honor of knighthood. His health having suffered from his active duties, Admiral Penn retired from service in 1666, although then only in the forty-fifth year of his age. His wife, the mother of William Penn, was the daughter of a merchant in Rotterdam.

Penn received his preliminary education at Chigwell, in Essex, near his father’s country residence. From Chigwell school he was removed, at twelve years of age, to a private academy in London; and having made great progress in all the usual branches of education, he was entered, at the age of fifteen years, as a gentleman commoner at Christ-church, Oxford. At college he is said to have been remarkable not more for his sedateness and attention to study, than for his extreme fondness for all athletic sports. His first bias, too, towards the opinions of that religious sect of which he became afterwards so distinguished an ornament, the Society of Friends, was produced at this period of his life. It was the effect of the preaching of one Thomas Loe, once a member of the university of Oxford, but who had embraced the doctrines of the Quakers, and was now a zealous propagator of the same.

Serious and thoughtful from his childhood, young Penn was strongly impressed by the views of religious truth which Loe inculcated; and the consequence was, that he and a few of his fellow-students who had been similarly affected, began to absent themselves from the established worship of the university, and to hold private meetings among themselves for devotional purposes. For this breach of the college rules a fine was imposed upon them by the authorities of the university. Neither Penn nor his associates were cured of their disposition to nonconformity by this act of severity; they still continued to hold their private meetings, and naturally became more zealous in their views as they saw those views prohibited and discountenanced. Their zeal soon manifested itself in an act of riot. An order having been sent down to Oxford by Charles II that the surplice should be worn by the students, as was customary in ancient times, Penn and his companions were so roused by what they conceived a return to popish observances, that, not content with disobeying the order themselves, they attacked those students who appeared in the obnoxious surplices, and tore them off their backs. So flagrant an outrage on college discipline could not be allowed to pass without severe punishment, and accordingly Penn and several of his companions were expelled. As may be conceived, Admiral Penn was by no means pleased when his son returned home with the stigma attached to him of having been expelled from college; nor was he more satisfied when he learned the cause. Himself untroubled with any such religious scruples as those which his son professed, he could not make any allowance for them, but, on the contrary, insisted that he should give them up, and live as any young gentleman of good family and loyal principles might be expected to do. The young man meeting his father’s remonstrances with arguments in self-defense, the hasty old admiral turned him out of doors.

Through his mother’s intercession a reconciliation soon took place; and the admiral determined, as the best means of finishing his son’s education, and possibly of curing him of what he considered his over-religiousness, to send him to spend a year or two in France. Penn accordingly left England in 1662, and was absent on the continent till 1664. On his return to England, his father was much pleased to find him so polished in demeanor and manners, and did not doubt but his intention in sending him abroad had been in a great measure fulfilled. By his advice Penn became a student of Lincoln’s Inn, where he continued till 1666, when his father sent him over to Ireland to manage his pretty extensive estates in the county of Cork. In this commission he conducted himself entirely to his father’s satisfaction, residing sometimes on the estates themselves, sometimes in Dublin, where he had the advantage of mixing in the society attending the court of the Duke of Ormond, lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and his father’s friend. While attending to his business in Ireland, however, a circumstance befell him, which might have induced his father to have acted differently, could he have foreseen it. Being accidentally one day in Cork, he heard that Thomas Loe, the person whose preaching had so deeply affected him at Oxford, was to address a meeting of Quakers in that city. Penn could not think of losing the opportunity of again seeing and hearing his old friend, and accordingly he entered the place where Loe was to preach. He took his seat, and had waited for a few minutes, when the preacher rose, and commenced his sermon with the following striking words:—​‘There is a faith which overcometh the world; and there is a faith which is overcome by the world.’ The words, and the sermon which they introduced, seemed adapted to his own case. Had not his faith been one which had been overcome by the world? and was it not, therefore, a weak, poor, and useless thing? Such was the force of this reflection, strengthened as it was by intercourse with Loe, that he resolved from that day to devote himself to the service of religion, and to adhere to the sect whose principles he respected most. In short, from that time Penn became a professed Quaker.

Nonconformity in religious observances was at that time somewhat dangerous. In Scotland, a religious persecution was fiercely raging; and although in other parts of the kingdom the spirit of bigotry on the part of the government did not manifest itself to the same extent, yet everywhere throughout Great Britain and Ireland dissenters were subject to grievous annoyances; and it was in the power of any meddlesome or narrow-minded person to point to numerous persecuting laws existing in the statute-book, and to demand that they should be put in force against them. Accordingly, William Penn soon paid the price of his conscientiousness. Making it a point, ever after his meeting with Loe, to attend the religious assemblies of the Quakers in preference to those of the Established Church, he was apprehended, along with eighteen others, on the 3d of September 1667, and carried before the mayor of Cork, charged with transgressing the act against tumultuous assemblies passed seven years before. The mayor, perceiving Penn to be a gentlemen, offered him his liberty on condition that he would give security for his good behavior in future; but Penn refused to comply with this condition, and was therefore committed to prison with the others. From prison he addressed a letter to the Earl of Orrery, then lord president of Munster, and a friend probably of Admiral Penn, requesting his inteference to procure the release of himself and his companions. The earl immediately ordered the release of Penn; the others, it would appear, however, were permitted to remain in prison.

Meanwhile some friend of the family, resident in Ireland, had conveyed to the admiral the unwelcome intelligence that his son had joined the Quakers. Without any delay the old man summoned his son home; and their first interview was a stormy one. The admiral at length, finding that his son had become a confirmed Quaker, and losing hope of moving him further, only stipulated that the youth should consent to depart so far from the customs of his sect, as to take off his hat in the presence of the king, the Duke of York, and himself! After a violent struggle between filial affection and religious convictions, William announced that he could not agree even to this limited amount of hat worship, and was again turned out of doors.

Thus driven out into the world, and disqualified by his previous education for earning his livelihood by any ordinary profession, Penn would have fared badly, had not his mother, without the admiral’s knowledge, kept up a communication with him, and supplied him with money out of her own purse. Not long afterwards, being now in the twenty-fourth year of his age, he began to preach at meetings of those who, like himself, had embraced the tenets of the Quakers. About the same time, too, he commenced his career as a polemical pamphleteer—​a character which he kept up till his dying day, having in the course of his life published an immense number of controversial pamphlets in defense of his sect and of religious liberty in general. The title of his first work, published in 1668, was as follows:—​‘Truth Exalted, in a short but sure Testimony against all those Religions, Faiths, and Worships, that have been formed and followed in the darkness of Apostacy; and for that Glorious Light which is now risen, and shines forth in the Life and Doctrine of the despised Quakers, as the alone good old way of Life and Salvation.’ To account for the somewhat bombastic appearance of this title, as well as for much in the conduct of William Penn and other early Quakers, which might otherwise seem difficult to explain, it must be mentioned that the early Quakers differed considerably from the modern Society of Friends with respect to the ideas which they entertained regarding the importance of their own sect. George Fox, William Penn, and the early Quakers in general, regarded Quakerism as a ‘glorious light’—​a new dispensation, destined to abrogate existing forms of faith, and restore Christianity to its primitive purity. Hence their sanguine mode of speaking concerning their own mode of faith; hence their extraordinary exertions to make proselytes; and hence that activity, and even restlessness in society, which distinguished the early Quakers from their modern successors.

William Penn was a great accession to the sect whose views he had adopted. Both by the publication of pamphlets and by public debates, he endeavored to make an impression in favor of the Quakers. One of his publications, a pamphlet, called ‘The Sandy Foundation Shaken,’ gave so much offense to some of the established clergy, and especially to the bishop of London, that Penn was apprehended, and sent as a prisoner to the Tower. During his imprisonment here, which lasted seven months, he wrote his ‘No Cross, no Crown,’ one of the most popular of all his works; the leading idea of it being, ‘that unless men are willing to lead a life of self-denial, and to undergo privations and hardships in the course of their Christian warfare; that is, unless they are willing to bear the cross, they can not become capable of wearing the crown—​the crown namely, of eternal glory.’ At length Penn was discharged by an order from the king, who was probably moved to this act of leniency by his brother, the Duke of York, Admiral Penn’s friend.

The admiral by this time was disposed to be reconciled to his son, whose constancy to his opinions he could not help admiring, notwithstanding that he had no predilection for the opinions themselves. Partly to keep him out of harm’s way, he sent him a second time on a mission of business to Ireland. While dutifully fulfilling the business on which he had been sent, Penn employed a great part of his time in Ireland in preaching and writing tracts in favor of Quakerism. He likewise visited many poor persons of his sect who were suffering imprisonment for their fidelity to their convictions; and, by means of his representations and his influence he was able to procure from the lord-lieutenant the discharge of several of them. On his return to England he was kindly received by his father, and took up his abode once more in the paternal mansion.

The spirit of intolerance had, in the meantime, become more rampant in the government; and in 1670, parliament passed the famous act against conventicles, by which it was attempted to crush nonconformity in England. The Quakers of course were visited with the full severity of the act; and William Penn was one of its first victims. Proceeding one day to the place of meeting, which he attended in Gracechurch Street, he found the door guarded by a party of soldiers, who prevented him from entering. Others of the congregation coming up, gathered round the door, forming, with the chance loiterers, who were attracted by curiosity, a considerable crowd. Penn began to address them; but had hardly begun his discourse when he and another Quaker named William Mead, who was standing near him, were seized by the constables, who were already provided with warrants, for the purpose, signed by the lord mayor, and conveyed to Newgate, whence they were brought to trial at the Old Bailey sessions on the 3d of September, 1670. As this trial was really very important, we shall detail the proceedings at some length. The justices present on the bench on this occasion were Sir Samuel Starling, lord mayor of London; John Howel, recorder; five aldermen and three sheriffs. The jury consisted, as usual, of twelve men, whose names deserve to be held in honor for the noble manner in which they performed their duty. When the prisoners Penn and Mead entered the court they had their hats on, according to the custom of their sect. One of the officers of the court instantly pulled them off. On this the lord mayor became furious, and ordered the man to replace the hats on the heads of the prisoners, which was no sooner done, than the recorder fined them forty marks each for contempt of court in wearing their hats in presence of the bench. The trial then proceeded. Witnesses were called to prove that, on the 15th of August last, the prisoners had addressed a meeting of between three and four hundred persons in Gracechurch Street. Penn admitted that he and his friend were present on the occasion referred to, but contended that they had met to worship God according to their own conscience, and that they had a right to do so. One of the sheriffs here observed that they were there not for worshipping God, but for breaking the law. ‘What law?’ asked Penn. ‘The common law,’ replied the recorder. Penn insisted on knowing what law that was; but was checked by the bench, who called him ‘a saucy fellow.’ ‘The question is,’ said the recorder at length, ‘whether you are guilty of this indictment.’ ‘The question,’ replied Penn, ‘is not whether I am guilty of this indictment, but whether this indictment be legal. It is too general and imperfect an answer to say it is the common law, unless we know where and what it is; for where there is no law, there is no transgression; and that law which is not in being, is so far from being common that it is no law at all.’ Upon which the recorder retorted, ‘You are an impertinent fellow, sir. Will you teach the court what law is? It is lex non scripta; that which many have studied thirty or forty years to know, and would you have me tell you in a moment?’ Penn immediately answered, ‘Certainly, if the common law be so hard to be understood, it is far from being very common; but if Lord Coke in his Institutes be of any consideration, he tells us that common law is common right, and that common right is the great charter privileges confirmed.’ ‘Sir,’ interrupted the recorder, ‘you are a troublesome fellow, and it is not to the honor of the court to suffer you to go on.’ ‘I have asked but one question,’ said Penn, ‘and you have not answered me, though the rights and privileges of every Englishman are concerned in it.’ ‘If,’ said the recorder, ‘I should suffer you to ask questions till to-morrow morning, you would be never the wiser.’ ‘That,’ replied the imperturable Penn, ‘is according as the answers are.’ After some further conversation, or rather altercation, the mayor and recorder became enraged. ‘Take him away, take him away,’ they cried to the officers of the court; ‘turn him into the bale dock.’ This order was obeyed, Penn protesting as he was removed, that it was contrary to all law for the judge to deliver the charge to the jury in the absence of the prisoners. But now a second contest commenced—​a contest between the bench and the jury. The latter, after being sent out of court to agree upon their verdict, unanimously returned the following one—​‘Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch Street.’ The bench refused to receive this verdict; and after reproaching the jury, sent them back for half an hour to reconsider it. At the end of the half hour the court again met, and the prisoners having been brought in, the jury delivered precisely the same verdict as before, only this time they gave it in writing, with all their names attached. The court upon this became furious; and the recorder addressing the jury, said, ‘Gentlemen, you shall not be dismissed until we have such a verdict as the court will accept; and you shall be locked up without meat, drink, fire, and tobacco. You shall not think thus to abuse the court; we will have a verdict by the help of God, or you shall starve for it!’ On this Penn stood up and said: ‘My jury, who are my judges, ought not to be thus menaced; their verdict should be free, and not compelled; the bench ought to wait upon them and not to forestall them. I do desire that justice may be done me, and that the arbitrary resolves of the bench may not be made the measure of my jury’s verdict.’ The court then adjourned, the jury, including one who complained of ill health, being locked up without food, fire, or drink. Next morning, on being brought in, they still returned the same verdict. They were violently reproached and threatened; and the recorder even forgot himself so far as to say that ‘he had never till now understood the policy and prudence of the Spaniards in suffering the Inquisition among them; and that certainly it would never be well in England till something like the Spanish Inquisition were established there.’ The jury were again locked up without food, drink, tobacco, or fire, for twenty-four hours. On the third day, the natural and glorious effect of this brutality on the minds of Englishmen was produced. In place of the indirect acquittal contained in their former verdict, they now, with one voice, pronounced the prisoners ‘Not guilty!’ Upon some paltry legal pretense they were all fined for their contumacy, and sent to prison till the fine should be paid. Penn himself was shut up till he should pay the mulct for contempt of court. This he would not do; but his father, it is thought, laid down the money for him, and he was liberated.

Penn’s father dying immediately after his liberation, left him a clear estate of £1500 a-year—​a considerable property in those days. The old man had by this time been brought to regard his son’s conduct in a more favorable light than he had done at first; and one of his dying advices to him was, to ‘suffer nothing in this world to tempt him to wrong his conscience.’

For twelve months after his father’s death Penn proceeded as before, preaching habitually at meetings of persons of his own persuasion, writing tracts and treatises in defense of Quakerism, and on other theological and political topics, among which was an account of the recent trial of himself and Mead, and engaging also in oral controversy with several dissenting preachers who had inveighed against the Quakers from their pulpits. His activity soon brought him into fresh trouble. Towards the end of the year 1671, he was again apprehended on the charge of preaching to an illegal assembly, and brought before Sir John Robinson, lieutenant of the Tower, who was one of his judges on the former trial. Sir Samuel Starling was also present. Unable to convict the prisoner on the conventicle act, Sir John, who was resolved not to let him escape, adopted another plan, and required him to take the oath of allegiance to the king, well knowing that, as it was contrary to the principles of the Quakers to take an oath at all, he would refuse, and thereby subject himself to imprisonment. ‘I vow, Mr. Penn,’ said Sir John Robinson, on his refusal, ‘I am sorry for you. You are an ingenious gentleman; all the world must allow you, and do allow you that; and you have a plentiful estate; why should you render yourself unhappy by associating with such a simple people?’ ‘I confess,’ said Penn in reply, ‘I have made it my choice to relinquish the company of those that are ingeniously wicked, to converse with those that are more honestly simple.’ ‘I wish you wiser!’ said Sir John. ‘And I wish thee better!’ replied Penn. ‘You have been as bad as other folks,’ observed the judge? ‘When and where?’ cried Penn, his blood rising at this accusation of hypocrisy. ‘I charge thee to tell the company to my face.’ ‘Abroad and at home too,’ said Sir John. Penn, indignant at this ungenerous taunt, exclaimed, ‘I make this bold challenge to all men, women, and children upon earth, justly to accuse me with having seen me drunk, heard me swear, or speak one obscene word, much less that I ever made it a practice. I speak this to God’s glory, who has ever preserved me from the power of these pollutions.’ Then turning to his calumniator, and forgetting for a moment his wonted meekness, ‘Thy words,’ said he, ‘shall be thy burden, and I trample thy slander as dirt under my feet!’

The result of the trial was, that Penn was committed to Newgate for six months. In prison he composed and published several new works, all connected with the subject of religious toleration, especially as it concerned his own sect. On his release, he made a tour through Holland and Germany, apparently for the purpose of disseminating the doctrines of Quakerism; but few particulars are known respecting this tour. On his return to England in 1673, being now in the twenty-eighth year of his age, he contracted a marriage with Gulielma Maria, daughter of Sir William Springett, of Darling, in Sussex, and a lady of great beauty and accomplishments. After their marriage, they took up their residence at Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire, where his wealth would have enabled Penn, had he so chosen, to lead the life of an influential country gentleman. Nothing, however, could cool the enthusiasm of Penn in behalf of what he esteemed a great and glorious cause; and for three or four years after his marriage, he was incessantly occupied in the composition of controversial pamphlets, defending the Quakers against the attacks and misrepresentations of other sects, and in traveling from place to place for the purpose either of preaching, or of conducting a debate with an antagonist. Early in 1677, he removed his residence from Rickmansworth, in Herts, to Worminghurst, in Sussex. In the same year, in company with the celebrated George Fox and Robert Barclay, he made a second religious tour through Holland and Germany, visiting, among others, the Princess Elizabeth of the Rhine, daughter of the king of Bohemia, and granddaughter of James I of England, who had shown considerable interest in the doctrines of the Quakers, and who received him very graciously. On his return to England, we find him engaged in a remonstrance to parliament in behalf of the Quakers, which deserves some notice. At that time, as the readers of history well know, a strong feeling prevailed throughout the nation against the Roman Catholics, who were suspected of innumerable plots and conspiracies against the church and state, which, for the most part, had no existence except in the fancies of the most bigoted portion of the Protestants. The feelings against the Catholics became so high, that all the existing laws against them were rigorously put in force, and much persecution was the consequence—​twenty pounds a-month being the penalty of absence from the established worship of the country.

In order, however, to distinguish between the Roman Catholics and other dissenters, so that the former alone might suffer, it was proposed in parliament that a test should be offered, whereby, on taking a particular oath, a suspected party might escape. This of course was quite a sufficient method for dissenters in general, who had no objection to take the required oath; but for Quakers, who objected to oaths altogether, the plan was of no advantage. On refusing to take the oath, they would be liable to be treated as Jesuits, or Roman Catholics in disguise. On this point William Penn presented a petition to the House of Commons, in which he prayed that, with regard to the clause for discriminating between Roman Catholics and others, the mere word of a Quaker should be deemed equivalent to an oath; with this addition, however, that if any Quaker should be found uttering a falsehood on the occasion, he should be subject to exactly the same punishment as if he had sworn falsely. Being admitted to a hearing before a committee of the House of Commons, he spoke in support of his petition, insisting that it was hard that the Quakers ‘must bear the stripes of another interest, and be their proxy in punishment.’ ‘But mark,’ he continued, in words which did him and his sect much honor, when contrasted with the general intolerance of those times, ‘I would not be mistaken. I am far from thinking it fit, because I exclaim against the injustice of whipping Quakers for Papists, that Papists should be whipped for their consciences. No: for though the hand pretended to be lifted up against them hath lighted heavily upon us, yet we do not mean that any should take a fresh aim at them, or that they should come in our room; for we must give the liberty we ask, and cannot be false to our principles, though it were to relieve ourselves; for we have good will to all men, and would have none suffer for a truly sober and conscientious dissent on any hand. And I humbly take leave to add, that those methods against persons so qualified do not seem to me to be convincing, or indeed adequate, to the reason of mankind; but this I submit to your consideration.’ The effect of Penn’s representations was such, that a clause for the relief of Quakers was actually introduced into the bill then before the House: the prorogation of parliament, however, put a stop to the progress of the bill.

Passing over Penn’s further exertions, both by speech and writing, in the cause of Quakerism and of religious toleration in England, as an account of these would not possess much interest now, we come to the most important event in his life—​namely the foundation of the North American colony of Pennsylvania.

PENN LED TO TAKE AN INTEREST IN THE AMERICAN COLONIES—​OBTAINS A GRANT OF PENNSYLVANIA.

After various unsuccessful attemps, two English colonies had been planted on the eastern coast of North America in the early part of the seventeenth century. The more southern of the two was called Virginia, and was colonized principally by mercantile adventurers; the more northern was called New England, and was colonized principally by Puritans, who, driven by persecution from the mother country, had crossed the Atlantic in order to enjoy liberty of conscience in a new country of their own founding. From the year 1620, a constant stream of emigrants from Great Britain had been pouring into these colonies; so that, towards the latter part of the century, the coast on both sides of the Potomac river was overspread by a British population—​those on the north side of the river calling themselves New Englanders, and those on the south side Virginians. The manner in which the colonization was carried on was as follows:—​The king granted to some nobleman, or to some mercantile company, a certain territory roughly marked out; this nobleman or company again either sold the property in lots to intending emigrants, or themselves organized an emigration on a large scale, and superintended the foundation of a colony on the territory in question. It is evident, therefore, that the purchase and sale of lands in America had become, in the reign of Charles II, a favorite branch of speculation; some parties buying portions of land with an actual view to settle in the new world, or at least to possess property in it, others buying with the mere intention of selling again. Now, it so happened that, in the year 1664, the Duke of York, afterwards James II, who had obtained from his brother Charles II a grant of a great part of the New England coast, conveyed over a portion of it, under the name of New Jersey, to Lord Berkeley and Sir George Carteret. Lord Berkeley again disposed of his half share to two members of the Society of Friends—​John Fenwick and Edward Byllinge. It appears that some dispute arose between these two individuals respecting their shares in the land which they had purchased; for, in the year 1775, we find William Penn, who seems to have been a friend of both, acting as arbitrator between them, and endeavoring to persuade Fenwick to yield, and, for the credit of the body to which he belonged, not to carry the dispute to a court of law. His remonstrances were effectual; the difference between Fenwick and Byllinge was adjusted, and the former emigrated to New Jersey, apparently in the mere capacity of superintendent for Byllinge, while Byllinge himself remained at home.

This was Penn’s first connexion with the American colonies; a connexion, it will be observed, quite casual, but which was followed by important consequences. Byllinge becoming involved in pecuniary difficulties, conveyed over his property in New Jersey to his creditors, prevailing upon William Penn to act as trustee, along with two of the creditors, for the judicious application of the property to the purpose of discharging his debts. Penn entered on the business with much alacrity; and after concluding an arrangement with Sir George Carteret, by which the boundaries of his and Byllinge’s share of New Jersey were defined—​the former under the name of East New Jersey and the latter under that of West New Jersey—​he prepared to turn his position, as Byllinge’s trustee for West New Jersey, to the best account. The property having been divided into a hundred lots, Fenwick, Byllinge’s agent, was paid off with ten of these, and the remaining ninety were to be applied for the behoof of the creditors. All that was necessary now was to invite promising emigrants to settle in these lands; and with this view Penn drew up a constitution, consisting of a number of articles of mutual agreement which the purchasers of the lands were to sign, and which were characterised by his own spirit of liberality and toleration. At the same time in order that no one might embark in the undertaking without a full knowledge of the condition of the country he was going to, and the difficulties which he must encounter, he and his colleagues published ‘A description of West New Jersey,’ embracing all the information they had it in their power to give. In consequence of these representations, about eight hundred respectable settlers, most of them Quakers, embarked for New Jersey in the beginning of 1678.

Once led to take an interest in the American colonies, nothing was more natural for William Penn, situated as he was, a member of a persecuted sect, who had all his life been struggling ineffectually for the attainment for himself and his fellows of some measure of religious liberty, than to conceive the project of heading an emigration on a large scale, to consist of Quakers and other dissenters. Might he not be the instrument of founding a new state, which, constructed upon better and sounder principles than those which regulated the old state of Europe, would one day become great and flourish? Or even supposing that so noble a prospect were never to be realized, would it not in itself be a good and philanthropic action, to remove some hundreds of families from a land where they were suffering continual wrong for conscience sake, and plant them in a land where, supporting themselves by the sweat of their brow, they might still eat their bread in peace, and bless God the giver? Such were the thoughts that recurred again and again to the mind of William Penn, as instance after instance of persecution presented itself to his view. Intelligence which he received of the prosperity of the colonists, whom, in his capacity as trustee for Byllinge, he had been instrumental in sending out to New Jersey, confirmed him in the notion which he was indulging; and at length he formed the decided resolution to head an extensive scheme of emigration on his own account.

Fortunately the execution of this project was facilitated by a claim which Penn had upon government. His father, Admiral Penn, had at different times advanced sums of money to the needy and dissolute government of Charles II, which, together with arrears of pay, amounted to £16,000; and as his father’s heir Penn was of course entitled to the payment of this debt. In lieu of the money, Penn proposed that government should make him a grant of a tract of country in New England, yet uncolonised—​the tract, namely, lying to the north of Maryland, bounded on the east by the Delaware river, extending as far to the west as Maryland, and as far to the north as was plantable. He had no doubt been led to fix on this territory by favorable accounts which he had received of its resources. When the application was made to government, considerable opposition was offered to Penn’s proposal, on the ground that he was a Quaker. At length, however, on the 4th of March, 1681, a royal charter was granted, constituting Penn full and absolute proprietor, under the British crown, of all the land which he had petitioned for. The rights with which this charter invested him were most ample. ‘The use,’ says his biographer, Mr. Clarkson, ‘of all ports, bays, rivers, and waters in the specified territory, of their produce, and of all islands, mountains, soils, and mines there, was wholly granted to him. He was to hold the territory in free and common soccage by fealty only, paying two beaver skins annually, and a fifth of all the gold and silver discovered, to the king. He had the power of making laws, with the advice, assent, and approbation of the free men of the territory assembled for the raising of money for public uses; of appointing judges and other officers; and of pardoning and reprieving, except in cases of willful murder and high treason. He had the power of dividing the province into towns, hundreds, and counties; of erecting and incorporating towns into burghs, and burghs into cities; of selling or alienating any part or parts of the said province, in which case the purchasers were to hold by his grant; of constituting fairs and markets; and of making ports, harbors, and quays. He had the power of assessing, reasonably, and with the advice of the free men assembled, customs on goods laden and unladen, and of enjoying the same, saving only to the king such impositions as were and should be appointed by act of parliament. In the case of incursion by neighboring barbarous nations, or by pirates or robbers, he had power to levy, muster, and train to arms all men in the said province, and to act as their captain-general, and to make war upon and pursue the same.’ To these general provisions were added many regulations in detail, the whole charter amounting to one of the most full and absolute ever granted to a subject. With regard to the name of the new territory, Penn proposed at first that it should be called New Wales, by way of companionship, it may be supposed, to New England. Objections however, being taken to this name, he proposed Sylvania, as one which the woody nature of the country rendered suitable; and ultimately this name was adopted, with the prefix of the word Penn, in honor of William Penn’s father, for whom both the king and the Duke of York had a great regard. Penn was anxious to have this prefix struck out, as apparently too assuming; and he actually made application for that purpose: the king, however, insisted that the name Pennsylvania should remain, as accordingly it did.

Penn immediately took steps for the colonization of his newly acquired territory. He first published a paper giving ‘Some Account of the Province of Pennsylvania in America, lately granted under the Great Seal of England to William Penn;’ and to this paper he annexed a statement of the terms on which he intended to sell his land to emigrants. According to this statement, he was to sell a hundred acres for forty shillings, reserving, for legal reasons, a perpetual quit-rent of one shilling for every hundred acres. He next published a list of those conditions as to the future management of the colony on which he was willing to part with his land to purchasers. The most prominent of these conditions related to the manner in which he wished the native Indians to be treated by those who settled in the new territory. With a degree of humanity rare in that age, though quite in consonance with his own noble character, he forewarned all his adherents that he was determined to put the native Indians on a level with the colonists as regarded civic rights, and that all differences between the two parties should be settled by an equal number of referees from both sides.

As it was deemed necessary, moreover, that intending settlers should have some previous idea of the form of government to be adopted in the new colony, Penn drew up a rough outline of such a constitution as he wished to be established, and as he had no doubt would meet the approbation of all likely to be interested. This constitution embraced twenty-four articles, of which the first, named by Penn the Great Fundamental, was as follows:—​‘In reverence to God, the father of light and spirits, the author as well as object of all divine knowledge, faith, and worship, I do for me and mine, declare and establish for the first fundamental of the government of my province, that every person that doth and shall reside therein shall have and enjoy the free profession of his or her faith and exercise of worship toward God, in such a way and manner as every such person in conscience shall believe is most acceptable to God.’

All the necessary preparations having been made, three ships full of emigrants set sail for Pennsylvania in the end of 1681. The superintendence of this first detachment was intrusted by Penn to his relative, Colonel Markham, assisted by commissioners. These were instructed to open up a communication with the natives, and to make all possible arrangements for the establishment of a peaceful relation between them and the future colony. With this view they carried a letter, writen in Penn’s own hand, and addressed to the Indians; of which remarkable document the following is a copy:—​‘There is a great God and Power which hath made the world and all things therein, to whom you and I, and all people, owe their being and well-being, and to whom you and I must one day give an account for all that we have done in the world. This great God hath written his law in our hearts, by which we are taught and commanded to love, and to help, and to do good to one another. Now this great God hath been pleased to make me concerned in your part of the world; and the king of the country where I live hath given me a great province therein. But I desire to enjoy it with your love and consent, that we may always live together as neighbors and friends; else what would the great God do to us; who hath made us, not to devour and destroy one another, but to live soberly and kindly together in the world? Now, I would have you well observe that I am very sensible of the unkindness and injustice which have been too much exercised toward you by the people of these parts of the world, who have sought to make great advantages by you, rather than to be examples of goodness and patience unto you. This, I hear, hath been a matter of trouble to you, and caused much grudging and animosities, sometimes to the shedding of blood, which hath made the great God angry. But I am not such a man, as is well known in my own country. I have great love and regard toward you, and desire to win and gain your love and friendship by a kind, just, and peaceable life; and the people I send are of the same mind, and shall in all things behave themselves accordingly; and if in anything any shall offend you or your people, you shall have a full and speedy satisfaction for the same, by an equal number of just men on both sides, that by no means you may have just occasion of being offended against them. I shall shortly come to see you myself, at which time we may more largely and freely confer and discourse of these matters. In the meantime, I have sent my commissioners to treat with you about land, and a firm league of peace. Let me desire you to be kind to them and to the people; and receive the presents and tokens which I have sent you, as a testimony of my good-will to you, and of my resolution to live justly, peaceably, and friendly with you.

I am your loving friend,     William Penn.’

Penn was busy making preparations to follow the settlers, whom he had already despatched, when he was afflicted by the death of his mother, for whom he had ever manifested the greatest affection. Shortly after this melancholy event, he published in full the constitution to which we have already alluded, under the title, ‘The Frame of Government of the Province of Pennsylvania, in America, together with certain Laws agreed upon in England by the Governor and divers Freemen of the aforesaid Province, to be further explained and confirmed there by the first Provincial Council that shall be held.’ After stating in the preface that he ‘does not find a model of government in the world that time, place, and some singular emergencies have not necessarily altered, and that it is not easy to frame a civil government that shall serve all places alike,’ he proceeds to detail the arrangements which, after due deliberation and consultation, he concluded to be advisable in the meantime. The following is the summary of these arrangements, given by Penn’s biographer, Mr. Clarkson:—​‘The government,’ he says, ‘was placed in the governor and freemen of the province, out of whom were to be formed two bodies; namely, a Provincial Council, and a General Assembly. These were to be chosen by the freemen; and, though the governor or his deputy was to be perpetual president, he was to have but a treble vote. The provincial council was to consist of seventy-two members. One-third part—​that is, twenty-four of them—​were to serve for three years; one-third for two; and the other third for only one year. It was the office of this council to prepare and propose bills; to see that the laws were executed; to take care of the peace and safety of the province; to settle the situation of ports, cities, market-towns, roads, and other public places; to inspect the public treasury; to erect courts of justice, institute schools, and reward the authors of useful discoveries. Not less than two-thirds of these were necessary to make a quorum; and the consent of not less than two-thirds of such a quorum was required in all matters of moment. The general assembly was to consist, the first year, of all the freemen; and the next of two hundred. These were to be increased afterwards according to the increase of the population of the province. They were to have no deliberative power; but when bills were brought to them from the governor and provincial council, they were to pass or reject them by a plain “Yes” or “No.” They were to present sheriffs and justices of the peace to the governor; of the number presented by them, he was to select half. They were to be elected annually. All elections of members, whether to the provincial council or to the general assembly, were to be by ballot. This charter, or frame of government, was not to be altered, changed, or diminished in any part or clause of it, without the consent of the governor, or his heirs or assigns, and six parts out of seven of the freemen both in the provincial council and general assembly.’

Another precaution which Penn took before departing for America deserves to be noticed. To prevent any future dispute between himself or his heirs, and the Duke of York and his heirs, with regard to the proprietorship of Pennsylvania, he procured from his royal highness a written surrender of all his claims, real or supposed, to the lands in question. Not only so; but being aware, also, that, adjoining the district which had been granted him by royal charter, there was a tract of land called ‘the Territories,’ already inhabited by Swedes and Dutch, and belonging to the Duke of York, the possession of which would, he conceived, be advantageous to the infant colony of Pennsylvania, he made application to the duke with a view to obtain it. The duke willingly agreed; and by a deed of feoffment, dated August 24, 1682, the Territories were formally made over to William Penn and his successors.

Nothing remained now but to take leave of his wife and children before embarking on an undertaking then more hazardous than, with our present notions of America and its distance from England, we can well conceive. This he did in a letter of counsel addressed jointly to his wife and children, some passages of which are so impressive and honorable to the writer, that we cannot refrain from giving a brief specimen:—​‘My dear wife—​Remember thou wast the love of my youth, and much the joy of my life—​the most beloved as well as most worthy of all my earthly comforts; and the reason of that love was more thy inward than thy outward excellencies, which yet were many. God knows, and thou knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providence’s making; and God’s image in us both was the first thing, and the most amiable and engaging ornament in our eyes. Now I am to leave thee, and that without knowing whether I shall ever see thee more in this world, take my counsel into thy bosom, and let it dwell with thee in my stead while thou livest.’ He next addresses himself to his children. ‘Be obedient to your dear mother, a woman whose virtue and good name is an honor to you; for she hath been exceeded by none in her time for her integrity, humanity, virtue, and good understanding—​qualities not usual among women of her worldly condition and quality. Therefore honor and obey her, my dear children, as your mother, and your father’s love and delight; nay, love her too, for she loved your father with a deep and upright love, choosing him before all her many suitors. And though she be of a delicate constitution and noble spirit, yet she descended to the utmost tenderness and care for you, performing the painfullest acts of service to you in your infancy as a mother and a nurse too. I charge you, before the Lord, honor and obey, love and cherish, your dear mother.’

On the 1st of September, 1682, the ship Welcome, of three hundred tons burthen, set sail from Deal with William Penn and about a hundred other emigrants, mostly Quakers, on board. She had not sailed many days when the small-pox broke out in the ship, and raged so violently, that about thirty of the passengers died. The rest arrived safely at their destination after a voyage of six weeks, the Welcome anchoring in the Delaware river about the middle of October.

The territory of Pennsylvania which William Penn had selected in North America possessed natural advantages of no ordinary kind. ‘It may be doubted,’ says one authority, ‘whether a more widely-diversified region exists upon the face of the earth, or one of similar area in which the vegetable and mineral productions are more numerous.’ Scarcely any part is level; the country is a perpetual alternation of hill and valley. Watered by many large rivers, as the Delaware, the Susquehanna, the Schuylkill, the Alleghany, the Ohio, etc., as well as by innumerable rivulets, it seemed a most inviting country for emigrants. A general perception of these advantages had no doubt actuated Penn in his choice of this particular region. At the time, however, when he made the choice, all was wild and uncultivated—​a tract, for the most part, of jungly forest-land, traversed in silence by idle streams. ‘At the beginning of the year 1681,’ says the author of an American history of Philadelphia, ‘the tract of ground upon which Philadelphia now stands was covered with forests; and men and beasts had a pretty equal right to it. Tradition has preserved the anecdote, that, in the year 1678, a ship called the Shields of Stockton, the first that had ever ventured so high up the Delaware, approached so close to the shore in tacking as to run her bowsprit among the trees which then lined the bank, and the passengers on board, who were bound for Burlington, remarked upon it as an advantageous site for a town. Little could they foresee the city that was to be erected on that spot, or the contrast between its growth and that of the still humble village for which they were destined.’

Sailing up the Delaware, Penn first reached the Territories, already mentioned as having been ceded to him by the duke of York, and as being inhabited by Dutch and Swedes. These people, now Penn’s subjects, and who had been prepared for his coming by Colonel Markham, were ready to give him a hearty welcome. About three thousand of them were assembled at Newcastle, where he first landed, a little below the site of the present Philadelphia. Here there was a magistracy and a courthouse, in which Penn, after formally taking possession of the country, delivered an address, assuring the inhabitants of his intentions to govern them in a spirit of kindness and regard for their interests. From Newcastle, Penn proceeded to New York, that he might form a better idea of affairs as they stood in a part of the country already colonized. Returning to Newcastle, he summoned a general assembly of the settlers, at a place called Upland, but to which he then gave the name of Chester. When the general assembly met, it consisted of free settlers indiscriminately from the province and from the territories; all such as chose to take part in the proceedings at this first assembly being, in terms of one of the articles of the constitution, at liberty to do so. A speaker having been chosen, one of the first acts of the assembly was to pass an act uniting the territories and the province, and naturalizing Swedes, Dutch, and all foreigners within the boundaries of the entire region. The laws drawn up by Penn in England were then confirmed, with some modifications and additions. Among these additions the following deserve notice:—​‘All children of the age of twelve were to be taught some useful trade or handicraft, to the end that none might be idle in the province. All pleadings, processes, and records in courts of law were to be as short as possible. All fees of law were to be moderate, and to be hung up on tables in the courts. All persons wrongfully imprisoned or prosecuted were to have double damages against the informer or prosecutor. All fines were to be moderate. With respect to the criminal part of these laws, one new principle was introduced. William Penn was of opinion, that though the deterring others from offenses must continue to be the great end of punishment, yet in a community professing itself Christian, the reformation of the offender was to be inseparably connected with it. Hence he made but two capital offenses—​murder, and treason against the state; and hence also all prisons were to be considered as workshops, where the offenders might be industriously, soberly, and morally employed. Thus all was begun fairly; the settlers, most of them sensible and religious men, who had experienced the effects of intolerant and bad government, manifesting a laudable desire to lay down at the outset liberal and generous principles for the government in all time coming of the colony which they would have the responsibility of founding.

In the opinion of Penn, something was still wanting before he could proceed another step in the colonization of Pennsylvania. The greater number of his cotemporaries, to whom lands were ceded in these regions by the government at home, held that they had by that cession acquired all the necessary rights, and that no other parties were entitled to a voice in the matter. Not so, thought William Penn. We have seen how he had instructed his commissioners to open up the way to a friendly communication with the native Indians, and how he had sent a letter to the latter, expressing his wish to ‘enjoy the lands with their love and consent.’

His commissioners had obeyed his instructions, and had made a bargain with the natives before his arrival. In order publicly to ratify this bargain in person, Penn, shortly after his arrival, made arrangements for meeting the chief men of the Indians, who were still numerous in the region. A grand convocation, accordingly, of the Indians and settlers, the latter headed by Penn, was held near the site of the present city of Philadelphia, under the spreading boughs of a prodigious elm tree. The natives came to the place of meeting in great numbers, and all armed; Penn came, with his friends, unarmed. The only mark of distinction which the leader of the settlers presented, was a sash of blue silk network, and the parchment-roll which he held in his hand, and which contained the conditions of the treaty. The Indians, on his approach, threw down their arms, and seated themselves on the ground; on which their chiefs—​one of whom, as being the principal, wore a chaplet with a small horn attached, the primitive symbol of power—​announced to Penn that they were ready to hear him. Tradition has preserved the main points in Penn’s address on this memorable occasion. He began, ‘The Great Spirit, who made him and them, who ruled the heaven and the earth, and who knew the innermost thoughts of man, knew that he and his friends had a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with them, and to serve them to the utmost of their power. It was not their custom to use hostile weapons against their fellow-creatures, for which reason they had come unarmed. Their object was not to do injury, and thus provoke the Great Spirit, but to do good. They were then met on the broad pathway of good faith and good will, so that no advantage was to be taken on either side, but all was to be openness, brotherhood, and love.’ After these and other words, he unrolled the parchment, and by means of the same interpreter, conveyed to them, article by article, the conditions of the purchase, and the words of the compact then made for their eternal union. ‘Among other things,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘they were not to be molested in their lawful pursuits, even in the territory they had alienated, for it was to be common to them and the English. They were to have the same liberty to do all things therein relating to the improvement of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their families, which the English had. If any disputes should arise between the two, they should be settled by twelve persons, half of whom should be English, and half Indians.’ He then paid them for the land, and made them many presents besides from the merchandise which had been spread before them. Having done this, he laid the roll of parchment on the ground, observing again that the ground should be common to both people. He then added that he would not do as the Marylanders did—​that is, call them children or brothers only, for often parents were apt to whip their children too severely, and brothers sometimes would differ; neither would he compare the friendship between them and him to a chain, for the rain might sometimes rust it, or a tree might fall and break it; but he should consider them as the same flesh and blood as the Christians and the same as if one man’s body were to be divided into two parts.

He then took up the parchment and presented it to the sachem who wore the horn in the chaplet, and desired him and the other sachems to preserve it carefully for three generations, that their children might know what had passed between them, just as if he had remained with them to repeat it.

The Indian chiefs answered in lengthened speeches, and pledged themselves ‘to live in love with William Penn and his children so long as sun and moon should endure.’ The treaty was concluded—​a treaty of which it has been remarked with truthful severity, that it was the only one concluded between savages and Christians that was not ratified by oaths, and the only one that never was broken! The great elm-tree under whose boughs it was concluded stood for a hundred and thirty years after, an object of veneration to the people around.

The purchase of Pennsylvania from the Indians having been concluded, and the land in a great measure surveyed by a person who had been brought out for the purpose, Penn, who had already established his own residence on an island in the Delaware, a few miles below the falls of Trenton, opposite the site of the present Burlington, and to which he had given the name of Pennsburg, next turned his attention to the foundation of a town in some advantageous locality. After mature deliberation, a place, called by the Indians Coaquannoc, was chosen as the site. It was the very spot which had struck the passengers on board the South Shields of Stockton, on their way to Burlington, as so well adapted for a city. A neck of land situated between two navigable rivers, the Delaware and the Schuylkill, with quarries of good building stone in the immediate neighborhood, the place seemed to be marked out by nature for the purpose. Accordingly, previous to Penn’s arrival, some of the settlers whom he had sent out had taken up their habitations on the spot, erecting bark huts, the art of constructing which they were taught by the Indians; or digging caves, which they fitted up so as to afford tolerable accommodation, in the high bank overhanging the Delaware.

The site of the city having been determined on, the surveyor, Thomas Holmes, drew up, under Penn’s direction, a map or plan according to which the streets were to be laid out. ‘According to this plan,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘there were to be two large streets, the one fronting the Delaware on the east, and the other the Schuylkill on the west, of a mile in length. A third, to be called High street, of one hundred feet broad, was to run directly through the middle of the city, so as to communicate with the streets now mentioned, at right angles—​that is, it was to run through the middle from river to river, or from east to west. A fourth, of the same breadth, to be called Broad street, was to run through the middle also, but to intersect High street at right angles, or to run from north to south. Eight streets, fifty feet wide, were to be built parallel to High street—​that is, from river to river; and twenty of the like width, parallel to Broad street, crossing the former. The streets running from north to south were to be named according to their numerical order—​First street, Second street, Third street, and so on; and those from east to west according to the woods of the country—​as Vine street, Spruce street, Sassafras street, Cedar street, and so on. There was to be, however, a square of ten acres in the middle of the city, each corner of which was to be reserved for public offices. There was to be also, in each quarter of it a square of eight acres, to be used by the citizens in like manner as Moorfields in London.’ To the ‘distractingly regular city,’ as Mr. Dickens calls it, thus mapped out, but not one house of which had yet been built, he gave the name of Philadelphia, in token of the principle of brotherly love on which it was founded—​brotherly love among English, Swedes, Dutch, Indians, and men of all languages and nations.

The work of building commenced apace. Within a few months of Penn’s arrival, as many as twenty-three ships, loaded with emigrants from Somersetshire, Cheshire, Lancashire, Wales and Ireland, sailed up the Delaware, and anchored off the site of the new town. Most of the emigrants they brought to the settlement were men such as Penn wished to see in his colony, sober and industrious persons, who had left Great Britain in order that they might lead a quiet and peaceable life, undisturbed by persecution. A number of them brought out with them a variety of implements and pieces of machinery, which were of great use in the infant state of the colony. Accommodated first in temporary huts, or the caves beforementioned, on the banks of the Delaware, they gradually distributed themselves through the settlement at their pleasure—​few of them, however, removing far at first from the site of the town. As these removed, and provided themselves with better residences, their old habitations, the Indian-built huts, and the caves on the river bank, were taken possession of by new-comers, who in their turn made way for others, mutual benevolence and assistance being the rule of the settlement. It was in one of the rude caves dug in the river bank that the first native Philadelphian was born. This person, whose name was John Key, and who died in 1767, at the age of eighty-five, always went by the name of First-born.

In the spring of 1683 the affairs of the new colony presented a very flourishing appearance. The more recently-arrived settlers had experienced some hardships during the winter, but on the whole, fewer than might have been anticipated, and the new year was entered upon with cheerfulness and hope. The following extract contains the recollections, in old age, of one of the first Pennsylvanian settlers, by name Richard Townsend, and may be taken at once as a succinct account of the rise of the colony, and as an illustration of the simple and devout character of the early settlers: ‘After our arrival,’ he says, ‘we found it a wilderness. The chief inhabitants were Indians, and some Swedes, who received us in a friendly manner; and though there was a great number of us, the good hand of Providence was seen in a particular manner, in that provisions were found for us by the Swedes and Indians at very reasonable rates, as well as brought from divers other parts that were inhabited before. After some time I set up a mill on Chester Creek, which I brought ready framed from London, which served for grinding corn and sawing boards, and was of great use to us. Besides, with Joshua Tittery, I made a net and caught great quantities of fish, which supplied ourselves and many others; so that, notwithstanding it was thought near three thousand persons came the first year, we were so providentially provided for, that we could buy a deer for about two shillings, and a large turkey for about a shilling, and Indian corn for about two shillings and sixpence per bushel. And as our worthy proprietor treated the Indians with extraordinary humanity, they became very civil and loving to us, and brought us in abundance of venison. After our arrival, there came in about twenty families from High and Low Germany, of religious, good people, who settled about six miles from Philadelphia, and called the place German Town. About the time German Town was laid out, I settled upon my tract of land, which I had bought of the proprietor in England, about a mile from thence, where I set up a house and a corn-mill, which was very useful to the country for several miles round; but there not being plenty of horses, people generally brought their corn on their backs many miles. I remember one man had a bull so gentle that he used to bring his corn on him instead of a horse. Being now settled within six or seven miles of Philadelphia, where I left the principal body of friends, together with the chief place of provisions, flesh meat was very scarce with me for some time, of which I found the want. I remember I was once supplied, by a particular instance of Providence, in the following manner: As I was in my meadow mowing grass, a young deer came and looked on me. I continued mowing, and the deer in the same attention to me. I then laid down my scythe and went towards him, upon which he ran off a small distance. I went to my work again, and the deer continued looking on me; so that several times I left my work to go towards him, but he still kept himself at a distance. At last, as I was going towards him, and he, looking on me, did not mind his steps, he ran forcibly against the trunk of a tree, and stunned himself so much that he fell; upon which I ran forward, and getting upon him, held him by the legs. After a great struggle, in which I had almost tired him out, and rendered him lifeless, I threw him on my shoulders, holding him fast by the legs, and with some difficulty, on account of his fresh struggling, carried him home, about a quarter of a mile, to my house; where, by the assistance of a neighbor who happened to be there, and who killed him for me, he proved very serviceable to my family. I could relate several other acts of Providence of this kind, but omit them for brevity. As people began to spread, and to improve their lands, the country became more fruitful, so that those who came after us were plentifully supplied; and with what we exceeded our wants, we began a small trade abroad; and as Philadelphia increased, vessels were built, and many employed. Both country and trade have been wonderfully increasing to this day, so that, from a wilderness, the Lord, by his good hand of providence, hath made it a fruitful land; on which things to look back, and observe all the steps, would exceed my present purpose.’

To this we may add an extract from a letter written by Penn himself to a society of traders in England, who had purchased a large quantity of land in Pennsylvania, and which sketches the history of the colony down to the date at which it was written, August 1683:—​‘The country,’ he says, ‘lies bounded on the east by the river and bay of Delaware and Eastern Sea. It hath the advantage of many creeks, or rivers rather, that run into the main river or bay, some navigable for great ships, some for small craft. Our people are mostly settled upon the upper rivers, which are pleasant and sweet, and generally bounded with good land. The planted part of the province and territories is cast into six counties—​Philadelphia, Buckingham, Chester, Newcastle, Kent, and Sussex—​containing about four thousand souls. Two general assemblies have been held, and with such concord and despatch, that they sat but three weeks, and at least seventy laws were passed, without one dissent in any material thing. And for the good government of the said counties, courts of justice are established in every county, with proper officers—​as justices, sheriffs, clerks, constables—​which courts are held every two months. Philadelphia, the expectation of those that are concerned in this province, is at last laid out, to the great content of those here that are anyways interested therein. The situation is a neck of land, and lieth between two navigable rivers, Delaware and Schuylkill; whereby it hath two fronts upon the water, each a mile, and two from river to river. But this I will say for the good providence of God, that of all the many places I have seen in the world, I remember not one better seated; so that it seems to me to have been appointed for a town, whether we regard the rivers, or the conveniency of the coves, docks, springs, the loftiness and soundness of the land, and the air, held by the people of these parts to be very good. It is advanced, within less than a year, to about fourscore houses and cottages, such as they are, where merchants and handicrafts are following their vocations as fast as they can; while the countrymen are close at their farms. Some of them got a little winter corn in the ground last season, and the generality have had a handsome summer crop, and are preparing for their winter corn. They reaped their barley this year in the month called May, the wheat in the month following; so that there is time in these parts for another crop of divers things before the winter season. We are daily in hopes of shipping to add to our number; for, blessed be God, here is both room and accommodation for them. I bless God I am fully satisfied with the country, and entertainment I got in it; for I find that particular content which has always attended me, where God in his providence hath made it my place and service to reside.’

Even in Pennsylvania, young as the colony was, and composed of better materials than most colonies, crime soon made its appearance. Before the first grand jury summoned in the province in March, 1683, a settler named Pickering was brought to trial for issuing counterfeit silver coin—​an offense which one would not have expected to find at so early a stage in the history of a new society. The man having been found guilty, was sentenced to pay a fine of forty pounds, to be employed towards the erection of a court-house—​a much more lenient sentence than would have been awarded in the mother country. Before the same jury a woman named Margaret Mattson was tried for witchcraft. The verdict returned deserves notice for its peculiarity: it was, that the accused was ‘guilty of having the common fame of being a witch, but not guilty in manner and form as she stands indicted.’ This verdict probably meant that the jury found the prisoner guilty of a notoriously malicious disposition—​the true offense of many of the poor wretches whom the barbarous British justice of that day condemned to the stake.

At midsummer 1684 the population of the colony amounted to upwards of seven thousand souls—​English, Irish, Scotch, Welsh, Dutch, Swedes, and Germans. About twenty different townships had been established; and Philadelphia could boast of a population of two thousand five hundred persons, well lodged in about three hundred houses, all regularly built according to the prescribed plan.

Attracted by Penn’s reputation for just and honorable dealing, and by reports of the flourishing condition of the settlement, ships were arriving in quick succession with new settlers from different countries of the old world. Seeing the success of his project thus so far happily realized, Penn, who had now been two years in America, resolved to return to England. His reasons for doing so were twofold. In the first place, a dispute had arisen between him and Lord Baltimore, the proprietor of the adjoining province of Maryland, as to the boundaries of their respective territories; and this dispute had at length become so warm, that there was no hope of settling it except by being personally present to represent the state of the case to the home government. Again, intelligence had reached Penn in America that the dissenters in the mother country, and especially those of his own persuasion, were suffering greater persecutions than ever; and even if he had not hoped to effect something in their behalf by his personal influence at court, it was Penn’s nature, wherever he saw persecution going on, to desire to be in the midst of it, either to help the sufferers, or at least to write against the oppressors. Accordingly, on the 12th of August, 1684, William Penn set sail for England, having made all necessary arrangements for the government of the colony during his absence. The supreme power was vested in the provincial council; as president of which he named Thomas Lloyd, a Quaker preacher, who had emigrated from Wales.

In February, 1685, four months after Penn’s return to England, Charles II died, and was succeeded by his brother the Duke of York, under the title of James II. It has already been mentioned that the duke had always manifested a liking for Penn, at first as the son of his friend, Admiral Penn, and afterwards on account of his own merits. This liking he continued to exhibit in a very marked manner after his accession to the crown; and Penn, to improve the opportunities of usefulness which his free access to the king afforded him, took up his residence at Kensington, in order to be near the palace. The following passage from Gerard Croese’s history of the Quakers will give an idea of the intimate terms on which Penn was with James II. ‘William Penn,’ says Croese, ‘was greatly in favor with the king, and the Quakers’ sole patron at court. The king loved him as a singular and sincere friend, and imparted to him many of his secrets and counsels. He often honored him with his company in private, discoursing with him of various affairs, and that not for one, but many hours together, and delaying to hear the best of his peers, who at the same time were waiting for an audience. Penn being so highly favored, acquired thereby a number of friends. Those also who formerly knew him, when they had any favor to ask at court, came to, courted, and entreated Penn to promote their several requests. Penn refused none of his friends any reasonable office he could do for them, but was ready to serve them all, but more especially the Quakers, and these wherever their religion was concerned. They ran to Penn without intermission, as their only pillar and support, who always caressed and received them cheerfully, and effected their business by his interest and eloquence. Hence his house and gates were daily thronged by a numerous train of clients and suppliants, desiring him to present their addresses to his majesty. There were sometimes there two hundred or more.’ Earl Buchan, in his life of Fletcher of Saltoun, relates an instance of Penn’s great influence at the court of James II. By his advice many exiled Presbyterians were permitted to return to their native country, and among others Sir Robert Stuart of Coltness, who had taken refuge in Holland. On his return, however, Sir Robert ‘found his estate and only means of subsistence in the possession of the Earl of Arran, afterwards Duke of Hamilton. Soon after his coming to London he met Penn, who congratulated him on his being restored to his native country. Coltness sighed, and said, “Ah, Mr. Penn, Arran has got my estate, and I fear my situation is about to be now worse than ever.” “What dost thou say?” says Penn; “thou surprisest and grievest me exceedingly. Come to my house to-morrow, and I will set matters right for thee.” Penn went immediately to Arran. “What is this, friend James,” said he to him, “that I hear of thee? Thou hast taken possession of Coltness’s estate. Thou knowest that it is not thine.” “That estate,” says Arran, “I paid a great price for. I received no other reward for my expensive and troublesome embassy in France than this same estate; and I am certainly much out of pocket by the bargain.” “All very well, friend James,” said the Quaker; “but of this assure thyself, that if thou dost not give me this moment an order on thy chamberlain for two hundred pounds to Coltness, to carry him down to his native country, and a hundred a-year to subsist on till matters are adjusted, I will make it as many thousands out of thy way with the king.” Arran instantly complied; and Penn sent for Sir Robert, and gave him the security.’

Although it is certain that, in thus acting the part of private adviser to the king, William Penn had the good of the country in view; and although there can be no doubt that, in that capacity, he rendered many services to the cause of civil and religious liberty, yet the prudence of his conduct in so mixing himself up with court affairs is somewhat questionable. At all events, his intimacy with the king subjected him to many imputations and suspicions, which it was difficult to clear away. The efforts of James to restore the supremacy of the Roman Catholic church being then the great subject of interest in the nation, it was concluded that Penn was privy to all the king’s plans and measures; that he was coöperating with him for the overthrow of Protestantism; in short, that he was a Papist. The absurdity of such rumors would have been evident to any one who had taken the trouble to look back on Penn’s former life; but in a time of public excitement, the extravagance of a story is no security against its being believed. Members of the Church of England, Protestant dissenters of all denominations, even the Quakers themselves, joined in the cry against Penn, and he became one of the most unpopular men in England. To say that he was a Papist, was not enough; he was stigmatised as a Jesuit, wearing the mask of a Quaker, in order the better to accomplish his purposes. It was currently reported that he had been educated at St. Omer’s; that he had taken priest’s orders at Rome; that the pope had given him a dispensation to marry; and that he was in the habit of officiating at the celebration of mass before the king at Whitehall and St. James’. Of these rumors Penn took no notice, except when they reached him through some of his friends, who were anxious that he should take some steps to exculpate himself. On such occasions he used to say that he had a personal regard for the king, and that he believed him to mean well, and at heart to be in favor of toleration; that as for the king’s secret and arbitrary schemes for the restoration of the Catholic religion, he knew nothing of them; that his aim had ever been to use his influence ‘to allay heats, and moderate extremes, even in politics;’ and that the only ground on which he could conceive the charge of his being a Papist to have been founded, was his anxiety to admit all sects alike to the benefits of religious freedom.

These representations were of no avail in clearing his reputation with the public; and accordingly, in the year 1688, when James II was expelled from the kingdom, and William of Orange appointed his successor, Penn was one of those who were likely to suffer from their friendship with the fallen monarch. Four different times he was arrested and examined on a charge of being a Jesuit, and a secret partisan of the exiled king; but no instance of guilt could be proved against him. On one of these occasions, when he was examined before King William in council, a letter was produced which James II had sent to Penn, but which government had intercepted. In this letter James desired Penn ‘to come to his assistance, and to express to him the resentments of his favor and benevolence.’ On being asked why King James wrote to him, Penn replied that this was no fault of his; that if the king chose to write to him, he could not prevent it. As for the king’s meaning in the letter, he supposed it was that he should assist in an attempt to restore him to the throne. This, however, he had no intention to do. He had always loved King James, and had received many favors from him and he should be willing to render him any private service he could, but nothing more. This candid and manly defense produced its effect, and Penn was discharged.

Wearied out with these annoyances, and having no great public duty now to detain him in England, seeing that the toleration he had so long struggled for was realised, at least to a great extent, under the government of King William, Penn was anxious to return to his American colony, where his presence was greatly desiderated, on account of various differences which had broken out among the settlers. He was preparing to set sail in 1690, when his departure was prevented by a fresh charge of treason preferred against him by a wretch of the name of Fuller, who was afterwards publicly declared to be a cheat and impostor, but whose true character was not then known. Not wishing to run the risk of being convicted on the oath of such a man, who would not scruple, of course, as to the means he would employ in making out his case, Penn lived in great seclusion in London for several years, occupying himself in writing replies to the letters he received from America, and in composing numerous tracts on subjects congenial to his tastes and disposition. In the year 1693, his misfortunes reached their height. Early in the year he was deprived of the governorship of Pennsylvania, which was annexed, by royal commission, to that of the province of New York. Towards the end of the same year his wife died. Before this time, however, a reaction had begun in his favor. His own character began to be better appreciated by King William, while that of his accuser, Fuller, became disgracefully notorious. Accordingly, Penn being admitted to plead his cause before the king and council, was honorably acquitted; and shortly after, by a royal order, dated the 20th of August 1694, he was reinstated in his government.

It was not, however, till the year 1699 that Penn returned to Pennsylvania, from which he had been absent about fifteen years. The interval of five years between his restoration to the governorship and his return to the colony was spent in preaching tours through England and Ireland, and in conducting those controversies out of which he appeared to be out of his natural element. In 1696 he contracted a second marriage with Hannah, daughter of Thomas Callowhill, a merchant of Bristol; and not long afterwards his eldest son, by the former marriage, died in his twenty-first year.

Accompanied this time by his wife and family, Penn returned to America in November 1699, and immediately commenced revising the conduct of his substitutes during his absence, and adopting new measures for the good of the colony. A discussion has been raised as to the wisdom and disinterestedness of Penn’s government of Pennsylvania during this his second visit, and indeed during the latter part of his proprietorship; some contending that he did not show the same liberality as at the outset, and others defending him from the charge. Among the former, the most distinguished critic of Penn is Benjamin Franklin, whose judgment is, that Penn began his government as a man of conscience, proceeded in it as a man of reason, and ended it more as a man of the world. Penn’s most zealous apologist against this charge of Franklin is his biographer, Mr. Clarkson. To examine minutely the arguments on both sides, would not answer any good purpose; it may be sufficient to remark, that the charge of Franklin is founded on certain changes introduced by Penn into the political constitution of Pennsylvania, to increase his own authority as governor, and that it does not effect the general spirit in which Penn fulfilled his important trust, which was uniformly that of mildness, justice, and benevolence. It was not to be expected that a constitution or frame of government prepared on the other side of the Atlantic by the mere pen, and transplanted to the new world, would satisfy the actual wants of the colony, or require no change. Accordingly, that there should be differences of opinion between the colonists and the governor on some points, or among the various classes of the colonists themselves, was natural enough; the merit of Penn and the early Pennsylvanians was, that, notwithstanding these differences, the general spirit of the administration was healthy and tolerant. ‘Governments,’ said Penn himself, ‘depend upon men, rather than men upon governments. Like clocks, they go from the motion which men give them. Let men be good, and the government cannot be bad. If it be ill, they will cure it. No government could maintain its constitution, however excellent it was, without the preservation of virtue.’ Thus it was that, although Pennsylvania at its commencement had its political disputes, it had a security for prosperity in the character of its founders.

Two objects which occupied a great share of Penn’s attention in his capacity of governor of Pennsylvania, were the condition of the negroes who had been imported into the settlement, and the civilization of the North American Indians with whom the colonists were brought into contact. ‘Soon after the colony had been planted,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘that is in the year 1682, when William Penn was first resident in it, some few Africans had been imported; but more had followed. At this time the traffic in slaves was not branded with infamy as at the present day. It was considered, on the other hand, as favorable to both parties: to the American planters, because they had but few laborers in comparison with the extent of their lands; and to the poor Africans themselves, because they were looked upon as persons thus redeemed out of superstition, idolatry, and heathenism. But though the purchase and sale of them had been adopted with less caution upon this principle, there were not wanting among the Quakers of Pennsylvania those who, soon after the introduction of them there, began to question the moral licitness of the traffic. Accordingly, at the yearly meeting for Pennsylvania in 1688, it had been resolved, on the suggestion of emigrants from Crisheim, who had adopted the principles of William Penn, that the buying, selling, and holding men in slavery was inconsistent with the tenets of the Christian religion. In 1696, a similar resolution had been passed at the yearly meeting of the same religious society for the same province. In consequence of these noble resolutions, the Quakers had begun to treat their slaves in a manner different from that of other people. In 1698, there were instances where they had admitted them into their meeting-houses, to worship in common with themselves.’

Penn, on his return, keenly took up the cause of the negroes, both in his private capacity as a member of the Society of Friends, and in his public one as governor. ‘He began to question,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘whether, under the Christian system, men ought to be consigned to unconditional slavery; whether they ought to be bought and sold. This question he determined virtuously, and in unison with the resolutions of the two forementioned yearly meetings of the Quakers. He resolved, as far as his own powers went, upon incorporating the treatment of the negroes, as a matter of Christian duty, into the discipline of the religious body to which he belonged. He succeeded; and a minute was passed by the monthly meeting of Philadelphia, and properly registered there, by which a meeting was appointed more particularly for the negroes once every month; so that, besides the common opportunities they had of collecting religious knowledge by frequenting the places of public worship, there was one day in the month in which, as far as the influence of the monthly meeting extended, they could neither be temporally nor spiritually overlooked. Having secured their good treatment in a certain degree among those of his own persuasion, his next object was to secure it among others in the colony, on whom the discipline of the Quakers had no hold, by a legislative act. This was all he could do at present. To forbid the bringing of slaves into the colony was entirely out of his power. He had no command whatever over the external commerce of the mother country. He was bound, on the other hand, by his charter, to admit her imports, and at this moment she particularly encouraged the slave trade. His first step, then, was to introduce a bill into the assembly which should protect the negroes from personal ill treatment, by fair trials and limited punishments, when they committed offenses; and which, at the same time, by regulating their marriages, should improve their moral condition. This he did with a view of fitting them by degrees for a state of freedom; and as the bill comprehended not only those negroes who were then in the province and territories, but those who should afterwards be brought there, he hoped that it would lay the foundation of a preparatory school for civilization and liberty to all of the African race.’ This bill, unfortunately, he was unable to carry, at least in its full extent. But the good effects of his exertions, so far as they did succeed, were ultimately seen. From the time that the subject of negro treatment was introduced into the discipline of the Pennsylvanian Quakers by Penn, it was never lost sight of by that body. Individual Quakers began to refuse to purchase negroes, others to emancipate those in their possession; and at length it became a law of the society that no member should hold slaves. In the year 1780, not a Quaker possessed a slave in Pennsylvania; and from that time slavery dwindled away in the state, till, in the year 1810, there were only eight hundred slaves in Pennsylvania, in a population of nearly a million.

Penn’s success with the Indians was similar. Unable to do much for them legislatively, he did much by his example and influence, visiting them personally, and trying by all means to establish a friendly commercial intercourse with them. Whatever advances in the arts of civilized life were made in the early part of the eighteenth century by the Indian tribes of the northwest, were due originally to William Penn; and for more than fifty years after his death, his name was remembered among them as that of a ‘true and good man.’

Penn was roused from his quiet and benevolent labors in behalf of the colonists, the negroes, and the Indians, by the intelligence that a movement had been begun in England for the abolition of the proprietary system of governing the American colonies. Deeply interested in this intelligence, he thought it due to his interests to embark for England, where, accordingly, he arrived in December 1701.

The bill which had brought him from America was not proceeded with; and the accession of Queen Anne to the throne in 1702 was a favorable event for his interests. Penn, however, never returned to America, but spent the remaining sixteen years of his life in England. It is melancholy to add that these last years of the existence of so good a man were clouded with misfortune. His outlay on Pennsylvania had far exceeded the immediate returns which the property could yield; and the consequence was, that he was involved in pecuniary embarrassments. To meet these, he was obliged, in 1709, to mortgage the province for £6600. The loss of a lawsuit added to his difficulties; and for some time he was a prisoner within the rules of Fleet. In 1712, he agreed to sell his rights to government for £12,000. The bargain, however, was never concluded, owing to his being incapacitated by three apopletic fits, which, following each other rapidly, deprived him to a great extent of memory and consciousness. He lingered on, however, till the 30th of July 1718, when he died at Ruscombe, in Berkshire, in the seventy-fourth year of his age.

Penn’s appearance and personal habits are thus described by Mr. Clarkson:—​‘He was tall in stature, and of an athletic make. In maturer years he was inclined to corpulency; but used a great deal of exercise. His appearance at this time was that of a fine portly man. He was very neat, though plain in his dress. He walked generally with a cane. He had a great aversion to the use of tobacco. However, when he was in America, though he was often annoyed by it, he bore it with good-humor. Several of his particular friends were one day assembled at Burlington; while they were smoking their pipes, it was announced to them that the governor’s barge was in sight, and coming up the river. The company supposed that he was on his way to Pennsburg, about seven miles higher up. They continued smoking; but being afterwards unexpectedly informed that he had landed at a wharf near them, and was just entering the house, they suddenly concealed their pipes. Perceiving, from the smoke, when he entered the room what they had been doing, and discovering that the pipes had been hid, he said pleasantly, ‘Well, friends, I am glad to see that you are at least ashamed of your old practice.’ ‘Not entirely so,’ replied Samuel Jennings, one of the company; ‘but we preferred laying down our pipes to the danger of offending a weak brother.’ They then expressed their surprise at this abrupt visit, as, in his passage from Philadelphia, not only the tide, but the wind had been furiously against him. He replied, with a smile on his countenance, ‘that he had been sailing against wind and tide all his life.’

The colony made rapid progress after Penn’s death, settlers being attracted to it from all parts of the old world by the freedom of its constitution and its natural advantages. The proprietorship was vested in the heirs of Penn by his second marriage, his children by his first marriage having inherited his British estates, which, at the time of Penn’s death were of greater value than his American property. In the year 1752, while Pennsylvania was still a British colony, the French made encroachments on it from the north-west, and built Fort Duquesne—​now Pittsburg. Philadelphia, the capital of Pennsylvania, speedily grew in size and importance. Its name is associated with some of the most distinguished events in the history of the United States. It was there that the delegates of the various colonies assembled in the year 1774, when they declared against the right of the mother country to tax the colonies; and it was also there that the famous declaration of independence was proclaimed in 1776. On the conclusion of the war of independence, Penn’s descendants sold their right of proprietorship over Pennsylvania to the American government for £130,000. Philadelphia continued to be the seat of the federal government till the year 1800. In the present day it is a large and populous city, celebrated for the number of its foundations and benevolent institutions, all less or more originating in the philanthropic principles early introduced into Pennsylvania.

This celebrated individual, the youngest but two of a family of seventeen children, was born at Boston, in Massachusetts, on the 17th of January, 1706. His father was at first a dyer, and afterwards a soap-boiler and tallow-chandler, and had quitted England in order to escape the prosecution of the non-conformists, under Charles II. His son Benjamin was sent to a grammar-school at eight years of age, with a view of being educated for the church; but this design was soon abandoned, and the subject of our memoir, after having made a slight progress in writing and arithmetic, returned home, and assisted at his father’s trade. This employment was very irksome to Franklin, whose inclinations had become directed to a sea-faring life; and it was at length agreed that he should be apprenticed to his cousin who was a cutler. An obstacle to this, however, arose in the amount of premium required, and he was eventually bound, in his twelfth year, to his brother James, a printer.

He soon made great progress in this business, and an acquaintance formed with several booksellers’ apprentices, enabled him to indulge his love of reading, by borrowing books, which they had facilities to obtain. ‘It has often happened to me,’ he says, in a memoir of the early part of his life, ‘to pass the greater part of the night in reading by my bed-side, when the book had been lent to me in the evening, and was to be returned the next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted.’ This disposition being noticed by a Mr. Matthew Adams, who had a large collection of books, he offered the use of them to Franklin, who soon became an author, and composed several little pieces in verse. Two of these, a ballad, called ‘The Lighthouse Tragedy,’ and a song on the noted pirate, Blackbeard, were, by his brother’s directions, printed: but the most unpoetic part of the story remains to be told—​their author was despatched about the town to sell them. Franklin says, ‘the first had a prodigious run, because the event was recent, and had made a great noise;’ but ‘they were wretched verses in point of style—​mere blindman’s ditties.’ His father seems to have been of the same opinion, for he ridiculed the productions; ‘and thus,’ says their author, ‘my exultation was checked, and I escaped the misfortune of being a very miserable poet.’ At this period he formed an acquaintance with a young man of the name of Collins, who was also a great lover of books. They were frequently together, and were both fond of disputation, which they sometimes carried on in writing. This, probably, assisted in bringing out some of the dormant qualities of Franklin’s mind; but his style was greatly inferior to that of his rival, to improve which he took the following method:—​‘I bought,’ he says, ‘an odd volume of The Spectator, read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate it. With this view, I took some of the papers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by a few days; and then, without looking at the book, tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before in any suitable words that should occur to me. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness in recollecting and using them, which I thought I should have acquired before that time, if I had gone on making verses; since the continual search for words of the same import, but of different length to suit the measure, or of different sound, for the rhyme, would have laid me under constant necessity of searching for variety, and also have tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I took some of the tales in the Spectator, and turned them into verse; and, after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned them back again. I also, sometimes, jumbled my collection of hints into confusion, and, after some weeks, endeavored to reduce them into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences and complete the subject. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of my thoughts. By comparing my works with the original, I discovered many faults, and corrected them; but sometimes had the pleasure to fancy that, in certain particulars of small consequence, I had been fortunate enough to improve the method of the language; and this encouraged me to think that I might, in time, come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I was extremely ambitious.

Franklin added to his habits of industry a self-denial and control over his passions, even at this early age, which were truly surprising. When about sixteen, a work fell into his hands, which recommended vegetable diet: this he determined to follow, and undertook to provide for himself, upon his brother’s allowing him one-half of the ordinary expense of his board, of which half, even, he contrived, by great abstemiousness, to save a considerable portion. Here was a new fund for the purchase of books; and he accordingly obtained such as enabled him to perfect himself in those elementary branches of knowledge in which he was deficient, among which were arithmetic and geometry.

In 1720, his brother established a public paper, entitled The New England Courant, the second that had appeared in America. Franklin was employed to distribute the copies, and, occasionally, being present at the meetings which were held at his brother’s house, by a number of literary characters, who were contributors, his love of authorship was rekindled, and he sent a communication in the usual way, but in a feigned hand. It was received, and commented upon in Franklin’s hearing; who, in his memoir, tells us, he had, ‘the exquisite pleasure to find that it met with their approbation, and that, in the various conjectures they made respecting its author, no one was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the country for talents and genius.’ Many other articles were written, and forwarded in the same manner, and, being equally well received, their author made himself known; expecting that the discovery would insure for him more respect and greater fraternal indulgence than he had previously experienced. His brother, however, continued to treat him with much rigor, and being a man of ungovernable passions, frequently proceeded to the extremity of blows. ‘This severe and tyrannical treatment,’ says Franklin, ‘contributed, I believe, to imprint on my mind that aversion to arbitrary power, which, during my whole life, I have ever preserved.’

The brothers, however, had soon occasion to be reconciled with each other. James, in consequence of an offensive article in the Courant, was taken into custody, and imprisoned for a month; Benjamin, during that period, was intrusted with the management of the paper, in which he inserted several pasquinades against the governor and other persons in authority. James’s enlargement was accompanied with an arbitrary order, that he should ‘no longer print the newspaper called The New England Courant.’ To evade this order, it was determined that his brother’s indentures should be given up, and the paper, in future, be printed in the name of Benjamin Franklin. A new contract was at the same time secretly entered into between the parties, by which Benjamin’s services were to be secured for the remainder of the term of his former apprenticeship; but, a fresh quarrel arising, Franklin thought proper to separate from his brother; ‘dishonorably,’ as he candidly acknowledges, ‘availing himself of the circumstance that the contract could not safely be produced.’

Being unable to obtain employment in Boston, he determined upon going to New York; but, apprehending his father would object to this resolution, he sold a part of his books to procure a small sum of money, and departed privately. On his arrival at the latter place, he applied for employment to a printer, who, having no occasion for his services, recommended him to extend his journey to Philadelphia.

His arrival at Philadelphia is thus recorded by himself:—​‘I was in my working-dress, my best clothes being to come from New York by sea. I was covered with dirt; my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings; I was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek a lodging. Fatigued with walking and rowing, and having passed the night without sleep, I was extremely hungry, and all my money consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling’s worth of coppers, which I gave to the boatmen for my passage. At first they refused it on account of my having rowed; but I insisted on their taking it. Man is sometimes more generous when he has little money than when he has plenty; perhaps to prevent his being thought to have but little. I walked towards the top of the street, gazing about, till near Market Street, where I met a boy with bread, and, inquiring where he had bought it, I went immediately to the baker he directed me to. I asked for biscuits, meaning such as we had at Boston; that sort, it seems, was not then made in Philadelphia. I then asked for a threepenny loaf, and was told they had none. Not knowing the different prices, nor the names of the different sorts of bread, I told him to give me threepennyworth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but took it; and, having no room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up Market Street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife’s father, when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut street, and part of Walnut street, eating my roll all the way; and, coming round, found myself again at Market street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of river water; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that came down the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which, by this time, had many clean dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. I joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the Quakers, near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking round awhile, and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy, through labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till the meeting broke up, when some one was kind enough to rouse me. This, therefore, was the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia.’

He was not long in obtaining employment with a printer of the name of Keimer; and, during his stay at Philadelphia, was favorably noticed by the governor, Sir William Keith, who frequently invited him to his table; and at length promised to advance the funds requisite to place him in business on his own account. He had previously advised his young protegé to proceed to Boston and ask assistance from his father, who, however, gave no encouragement to the scheme, but dismissed Franklin with his blessing, who retured to Philadelphia. Sir William now recommended him to visit England, in order to procure an adequate stock of printing materials, and establish a connection with some London booksellers; and offered to furnish him with letters of credit and introduction. Upon this recommendation, Franklin set sail for England, but the ship which carried him to London, in December, 1724, was found to have carried none of the promised letters from the governor of Pennsylvania.

He was now thrown entirely upon his own resources, and having taken lodgings in Little Britain, at one shilling and ninepence per week, he got into work at Palmer’s printing-house, in Bartholomew Close, in which employ he continued for nearly a year. From Palmer’s he removed to Watts’s, near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where, by his companions, he was dubbed the Water-American. ‘From my example,’ he says, ‘a great many of them left off their muddling breakfast of beer, bread, and cheese, finding they could, with me, be supplied from a neighboring house with a large porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with pepper, crumbled with bread, and a bit of butter in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz., three-halfpence.’ About this period, he fell in with some deistical companions, renounced his religious principles, commenced sceptic, and published A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain, in answer to Wollaston’s Religion of Nature. This work introduced him to the notice of Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Mandeville, Dr. Pemberton, and other eminent persons, though Franklin acknowledged the printing of it as one of the errors of his life. After having been in London eighteen months, he accepted the offer of a Mr. Denham, a merchant of Philadelphia, to return with him as his clerk, at a salary of £50. He arrived at Philadelphia on the 11th of October, 1726: but, Mr. Denham dying in the following year, his clerk was compelled to return to his former occupation, and again entered into the employ of Keimer; acting in the several capacities of letter-founder, ink-maker, engraver, and copper-plate-printer. The press which he used in the latter calling was constructed by himself, and was the first erected in America. A quarrel with Keimer, led to a final separation between him and Franklin, who now entered into partnership with a young man of the name of Meredith. ‘We had scarcely,’ says Franklin, ‘opened our letters and put the press in order, before George House, an acquaintance of ours, brought a countryman to us, whom he had met in the street inquiring for a printer. All our cash had been expended in the variety of particulars we had been obliged to procure, and this countryman’s five shillings, being our first fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than any money I have ever since received.’ The frugality and industry of Franklin soon brought their business into a thriving condition, and he began to think of establishing a newspaper, when he was anticipated by Keimer, who started one of his own. He now wrote, in conjunction with a friend, a series of papers called The Busy Body, which so much eclipsed the publication of his rival, that he was glad to dispose of his paper, at any price, to Franklin. Meredith proving inattentive to business, Franklin was pursuaded to dissolve partnership, and take the concern entirely into his own hands, which he was enabled to accomplish, through the liberal assistance of two acquaintances, who were members of the Junto. This was a club, established by Franklin, for the discussion of subjects connected with morals, politics, and natural philosophy; it eventually became the centre of thought for the whole people; and contributed, in a great degree, to the success of their struggle for independence.

In September, 1730, he married a female to whom he had been previously attached, when she was Miss Read, but who, during his absence, had conceived herself forgotten, and given her hand to a potter, of the name of Rogers. This person had involved himself in debt, and fled to the West Indies, but Franklin’s affection was not damped by the probability of the lady’s first husband being still alive, and he consented to make her his spouse.

In 1732, he published his celebrated almanac, under the name of Richard Saunders, more generally known as Poor ‘Richard’s Almanack,’ and which became so celebrated for its numerous happily-expressed and valuable moral maxims. These were collected, many years afterwards, into a little tract, called The Way to Wealth; having for its object the extension of industry and economy, habits which no man ever practiced more successfully than Franklin himself. Dr. Bard a Scotchman, residing in Philadelphia, used to say to him, ‘The industry of this Franklin is superior to any thing of the kind I ever witnessed. I see him still at work when I return from the club at night, and I find he is at it again in the morning, before his neighbors are out of bed.’ On one occasion, having laid down a rule that he would compose a sheet a day of a particular work, in folio, he had the misfortune, after his evening’s labor, to derange two whole pages. Such, however, was his perseverance, that he distributed and composed them anew before he retired to bed.

In 1736, he commenced his political career, by being appointed clerk to the general assembly; and, in the following year, entered upon the duties of post-master. He was also appointed an alderman, and put into the commission of the peace; but took no part in the business of the bench, commonly employing himself, while sitting with his brother magistrates, ‘in contriving magic squares and circles.’ From this period, till 1744, he was actively and usefully employed in instituting fire companies, erecting public buildings, and establishing philosophical societies. In 1744, during the war between England and France, he particularly distinguished himself in procuring means of resistance against the enemy, and succeeded in bringing over the Quakers to give their pecuniary aid. They were, however, particularly scrupulous not to acknowledge that their grants were connected with the principle of warfare. When, therefore, the assembly was applied to, for a certain quantity of gunpowder, the members would not comply with the request; but voted £3,000 to be placed in the hands of the governor, ‘for the purchase of bread, flour, wheat, or other grain.’ The governor was advised not to accept the grant, but he replied—​‘I shall take the money; “other grain” means gunpowder.’ Franklin, hearing of this, suggested that the insurance companies, which were also well stocked with Quakers, might likewise very properly contribute their aid, by a grant for the purchase of fire-engines.

In 1745, he published an account of his newly-invented fire-place; and, in 1747, was elected a member of the general assembly; in which he was an active defender of the rights of the citizens in opposition to the encroachments of the proprietaries. He introduced several measures relative to the local government of Philadelphia; and busily employed himself in establishing public schools and founding hospitals. In 1749, he took one of his workmen into partnership; and was thus enabled to devote a considerable portion of his time to scientific pursuits, of which it is now time to give some account. At this period, our readers need not, perhaps, be told that electricity was a science which could hardly be said to consist of anything more than a collection of unsystematized and ill-understood facts. Franklin’s attention seems to have been first directed to this subject in 1746, when, being at Boston, he met with a Dr. Spence, who had lately arrived from Scotland, and showed him some electrical experiments. They were not very expertly performed, ‘but being,’ said Franklin, ‘on a subject quite new to me, they equally surprised and pleased me. Soon after my return to Philadelphia, our library company received, from Mr. Peter Collinson, F. R. S., of London, a present of a glass tube, with some account of the use of it in making experiments. I eagerly seized the opportunity of repeating what I had seen at Boston; and, by much practice, acquired great readiness in performing those also which we had an account of from England, adding a number of new ones. I say much practice, for my house was continually full, for some time, with persons who came to see these new wonders. To divide a little of this incumbrance among my friends, I caused a number of similar tubes to be blown in our glass-house, with which they furnished themselves; so that we had, at length, several performers.’

None were now more zealous in electrical investigations, than Franklin; he was continually devising new experiments, and falling upon important results. He exhibited the power of points in drawing and throwing off the electrical matter; and made the grand discovery of a positive and negative state of electricity. By means of this discovery he satisfactorily explained the phenomena of the Leyden phial, which was at that time exciting the wonder of all Europe, and had caused philosophers so much perplexity. His happiest conjecture, however, was that of the identity between lightning and the electric fluid, though it was not till 1752, that he was enabled, effectually, to establish this important fact. He had long entertained the bold idea of ascertaining the truth of this doctrine, by actually drawing lightning from the clouds; and at length it occurred to him that he might procure communication between them and the earth by means of a common kite. With this simple apparatus, he awaited the approach of a thundercloud, and the kite was raised, but no sign of electricity appeared. His suspense and anxiety were almost insupportable; when suddenly he observed the loose fibres of the string to move; he presented his knuckle to the key by which it was held, and received a strong spark. On this experiment depended the fate of his theory. Repeated sparks were drawn from the key—​a phial was charged—​a shock given—​and this brilliant discovery placed upon an immutable basis.

Franklin, from time to time, forwarded accounts of his experiments to England, for the information of the Royal Society; but they were not admitted into the printed transactions of that learned body. His friend, Mr. Collinson, gave them to Cave, for insertion in The Gentleman’s Magazine; but Cave, with great judgment, thought proper to publish them separately, in a pamphlet, the preface to which was written by Dr. Fothergill. By the additions which were subsequently made to this little work, it swelled into a quarto volume, and became the text-book of the science. It was translated into French, German, and Latin, and attracted the attention of all the philosophers in Europe. In France, the highest honors were paid to Franklin’s labors: Buffon, D’Alibard, and De Lor, repeated and confirmed his experiments; and the king himself, Louis XV, became a spectator of them. Russia, even, participated in this ardor, and the amiable Richmann fell a martyr to his zeal—​an unfortunate flash from the conductor putting a period to his existence. Eventually, the Royal Society began to reconsider the matter; and Franklin’s grand experiment, the object of which had, at first, been treated with ridicule, was verified by Canton, and other members. Franklin was, accordingly, without solicitation, elected a fellow, and had paid to him the unusual honor of being chosen without payment of the customary fees. He was also presented with the Copley medal for the year 1753; and, at a subsequent period, he had the degree of LL.D. conferred upon him by the Universities of St. Andrew’s, Edinburgh, and Oxford.

We now resume our account of Franklin’s political career. In the year just mentioned, he was presented with the degree of M.A., by the College of Cambridge, in New England; and, in the same year, he was appointed deputy postmaster-general for the British colonies. The American post-office had never previously made any returns for the revenue; but under the management and improvements of Franklin, it yielded to the crown three times as much as the post-office of Ireland. In 1754, he drew up his celebrated Albany Plan of Union, as a means of defense against the depredations of the Indians. The rejection of this plan was followed by the introduction of British troops into the colonies; this produced taxation, and was soon succeeded by the war, which ended in the final loss of America to the mother-country.

In 1755, when the expedition of Gen. Braddock, to dispossess the French of some of their encroachments, was in preparation, a difficulty arose for want of wagons, which Franklin supplied to the number of one hundred and fifty. The expedition, however, failing, he was in danger of a ruinous loss, but was relieved from his obligations by the interference of the governor. He was, subsequently, instrumental in forming a militia bill; and he was appointed colonel of the Philadelphia regiment of one thousand two hundred men, which he held until the troops were disbanded by order of the English government.

On the 27th of July, 1757, Franklin arrived in London, in the character of agent to the general assembly, for the purpose of advocating the privileges of the people against the illiberal and unjust encroachments of the proprietaries. Much prejudice and delusion existed at the time in relation to the affairs of America; and Franklin, in consequence, published, anonymously, a work, entitled An Historical Review of the Constitution and Government of Pennsylvania. During his sojourn in England, he was engaged in a variety of political controversies, and was examined before a committee of the whole house of commons, relative to the practicability of enforcing the stamp act, which, in consequence of the information he afforded, was repealed. He returned to Philadelphia in the summer of 1762; and shortly afterwards received the thanks of the assembly, and a grant of £5,000. In 1764, through the exertions of the proprietaries, he lost his seat in the house; but there still remained in it a majority of his friends, and he was appointed to resume his agency at the court of Great Britain.

In 1766, he visited Holland and Germany; and, in the following year, France, where Louis XV showed him particular marks of attention. After his return to England he got embroiled relative to some political papers which had been clandestinely furnished to him, and which he forwarded to America, where they were published. He was, in consequence, dismissed from his office of deputy postmaster-general, after having been summoned before the privy-council, and severely censured. He was now looked upon by government with considerable jealousy, and it was proposed to arrest him upon the charge of fomenting a rebellion; but being apprised of this intention, he contrived to leave England secretly, in March, 1775.

On his return to Philadelphia, he was elected a delegate to the congress, and took an active part in bringing about a revolution. It was at this period he wrote the following memorable letter to his old friend in England, Mr. Strahan, the king’s printer:—

‘Philadelphia, July 5, 1775.

‘Mr. Strahan:—​You are a member of parliament, and one of that majority which has doomed my country to destruction. You have begun to burn our towns, and murder our people. Look upon your hands! They are signed with the blood of your relations. You and I were long friends:—​you are now my enemy, and I am

Yours,     ‘B. Franklin.’

In 1776, although in his seventy-first year, he was called upon by Congress, to proceed to France, for the purpose of completing the negotiations begun by Silas Deane; and, in 1777, he was appointed plenipotentiary to the French court. He had now not only created a host of political enemies in Great Britain, but was also attacked by certain philosophical opponents. Mr. Wilson, F.R.S., protested against pointed conductors, and performed several experiments, in order to prove the superiority of knobs. In consequence of Wilson’s declarations, the pointed lightning conductors were taken down from the queen’s palace, a circumstance which gave rise to the following epigram:—

A definitive treaty of peace having been signed between Great Britain and the United States, on the 3d of September, 1783, Franklin requested to be recalled home. He arrived at Philadelphia in September, 1785, and was afterwards twice elected president of the assembly. His last public act was the signing of a memorial, on the 12th of February, 1789, for the abolition of slavery.

He had been, for many years, subject to attacks of the gout, to which, in 1782, was added a nephritic colic; and, about the same period, he suffered the first pains of a disease, the most distressing in the list of bodily infirmities. They were three things he had always dreaded; and he used to observe, that, in relation to this complication of disorders, he was ‘something like the woman who had always entertained a great aversion to presbyterians, parsons, and Irishmen, and at last married an Irish presbyterian parson.’ These maladies confined him to his bed during the greater part of the last year of his life; but, notwithstanding the severe pains he labored under, his natural cheerfulness never forsook him. His mental faculties were unimpaired, and his memory continued unaffected to the last hour of his existence. He was often obliged to take large doses of opium; but, in his moments of ease, he amused himself with reading, or in affectionate conversation with his family. He died on the 17th of April, 1790, and was buried on the 21st of April, in the cemetery of Christ’s Church, Philadelphia. On the occasion of his funeral, every possible mark of public respect was shown to his memory: a general mourning, for one month, was ordered throughout America; and the national assembly of France paid a like honor in remembrance of his virtues.

Peter, Czar, or Emperor of Russia, usually styled The Great, was one of the most remarkable persons in the history of modern times. A sketch of his life may therefore prove interesting, as furnishing an example of what may be accomplished for the benefit of mankind by one enterprising mind. But first as regards the country over which it was his fortune to rule.

Russia is a territory of vast extent in the northern part of Europe and Asia. Presenting every variety of climate, this extensive region, which is really an aggregation of various countries, was inhabited in the seventeenth century by a barbarous people, having little intercourse with the more civilized nations of the earth. The degree of advancement in knowledge or social usages was very much that of Turkey in recent times The Russian people knew little or nothing of the useful arts, were rude in manners, dressed in cumbrous garments, and the men wore long beards, according to the ancient Asiatic custom. There was scarcely any kind of school-learning or education; even the priests were grossly ignorant and superstitious. For one thing, they believed and taught that the world was created in autumn, when the fruits were ripe; unconscious that, when it is autumn in one hemisphere, it is spring in the other.

At the period to which we refer—​the middle of the seventeenth century, or about the time of the Commonwealth in England—​the Russian people might have been divided into four classes: the Boyards or noblemen who estimated their wealth by the number of serfs or slaves upon their estates—​these wretched serfs, of course, by far the most numerous body of all; and the military, a turbulent set, who, as we shall see, often resorted to the most violent means to obtain their ends. Indeed so common and revolutionary had been revolts of the Strelitzes, or soldiery of the capital, that the government has been epigrammatically called ‘a despotism tempered by assassination.’ The fourth class, and one which often took part in the factions of the time, were the priesthood, the established religion being the form of the Greek church. The monarchy was absolute, the will of the sovereign being law; but it was not, as Poland was, an elective monarchy. The male issue, however, of the ancient sovereigns failing, and several pretenders to the throne having miserably perished, the chief Boyards assembled a council, at which they elected a youth, named Michael Romanow, to be czar. He was the son of a powerful nobleman, and related, by the mother’s side, to the ancient czars. This took place in 1613, at the period when his father was detained a prisoner by the Poles, with whom the Russians were at war. An exchange of prisoners, however, was soon after effected; and it is thought that, during the life of the old man, he governed, though in his son’s name. It is not our purpose to enter into the wars or troubles of this reign. Michael Romanow made no alteration in the state, either to the improvement or corruption of the administration. He died in 1645, and was succeded by his son Alexis Michaelowitz (or son of Michael), who ascended the throne by hereditary right.

Alexis, who was the father of Peter the Great, appears to have been more enlightened than any of his predecessors. He introduced manufactures of silk and linen; and, though unable to keep them up, he had the merit of their first establishment. He endeavored to form something like a code of laws, imperfect though they were; and he peopled the deserts about the Wolga and the Kama with Polish and Tartarian families, whom he had taken prisoners in his wars, employing them in agriculture—​before his reign, prisoners of war being the slaves of those to whose lot they fell. But he had little time to perfect his plans, being snatched away by a sudden death in 1677, at the age of forty-six. Alexis had been twice married. By his first wife, the daughter of the Boyard Meloslauski, he left two sons, and either four or six daughters. By his second wife, who was the daughter of the Boyard Nariskin, and who survived him, he left Peter and the Princess Nathalia, the former having been born at Moscow on the 30th of May 1672. Alexis had caused his eldest son, Theodore, to be acknowledged his successor a year before his death, and he ascended the throne at the age of fifteen: this prince inherited his father’s abilities and disposition, but was of a sickly, feeble constitution. The second son was Ivan, or John, who was miserably infirm, being almost blind and deaf, and subject to convulsions. Of the six daughters, we need only mention Sophia, who was less remarkable for her great talents than for the wicked and mischievous use she made of them.

Peter was but four years old at the time of his father’s death, and was for a while little regarded. But the czars married without regard to birth, and had likewise the power of choosing a successor; and, conscious that his brother Ivan was incapacitated by his infirmities for governing, Theodore, on his deathbed, nominated his youngest brother Peter heir to the crown. This occurred when Peter was in his tenth year, but not before his promising abilities had aroused the jealousy of his sister Sophia. Probably from the difficulty of finding suitable husbands for them, it had been the custom for the daughters of the czars to retire into a monastery; but this designing princess had no such inclination; and on the death of Theodore, she found herself almost the natural guardian of two brothers, one of whom was, from his infirmities, incapable of governing; and the other, on account of his youth, she believed it possible to depose. In a word, she aimed at sovereignty, although pretending to advocate the claim of Ivan, and representing that she desired only to hold the reins for him.

A succession of revolts was the consequence of her stratagems and intrigues; and the most savage cruelties were perpetrated by all parties. Sophia evidently sought some pretense for deposing Peter, and accordingly she employed emissaries to stir up the soldiery against the Nariskin family, especially the two uncles of Peter, spreading a report that one of them had put on the imperial robes, and had attempted to strangle prince John; adding, moreover, that the late czar, Theodore, had been poisoned at their instigation by a Dutch physician. Finally, she made out a list of forty noblemen, whom she denounced as enemies to the state, and deserving of death. The mutineers began by attacking two nobles, named Dalgorouki and Matheof, whom they threw out of the palace windows. These unfortunates were received by the Strelitzes on the points of their spears, and speedily despatched, their dead bodies being afterwards dragged into the great square. Soon after this, meeting with Athanasius Nariskin, brother to the young czarina, and one of the uncles of Peter, they murdered him in like manner, and, breaking open the doors of a church where some of the proscribed had taken refuge, they dragged them from the altar, and stabbed them to death. But it would be a horrible task to narrate the atrocities which followed—​the murder of the innocent physician and of the other Nariskin, and the dreadful tortures by the knout, and other forms which were practiced on the wretched victims.

Finally, Sophia succeeded in associating the name of her imbecile brother in the sovereignty; the two princes, John and Peter, being proclaimed joint czars in 1682, and herself denominated co-regent with them. She then publicly approved of the outrages which had been committed, and rewarded the perpetrators of them, confiscating, for this purpose, the estates of the proscribed; and so completely did she enjoy all the honors of a sovereign, thet her bust was engraven on the public coin. She signed all despatches, held the first place in the council, and exercised unlimited power. But new insurrections broke out; and finally, she was induced to strengthen her authority by admitting to her councils her favorite and lover, prince Basil Galitzin, whom she created generalissimo, minister of state, and lord-keeper. This new minister was a man of distinguished abilities, and had received a much better education than the rest of his countrymen. One of his prudent measures was to distribute the most mutinous of the Strelitzes among different regiments, situated at distant parts of the empire.

While Galitzin was engaged with the army, Sophia governed and acted at Moscow as if altogether independent of her brothers the czars. A circumstance, however, soon took place which put an end to her intrigues and interference. In 1689, Peter’s marriage with Eudoxia Federowna Lapuchin, effected through the influence of his prudent mother, withdrew him in a great measure from those dissipating vices which Sophia had done all in her power to encourage, and thus gave him a new hold on the affections of the people. Sophia having desired to be present, as regent, at a religious celebration at which czars themselves were commonly present, Peter opposed it in vain; and a few faithful Strelitzes having betrayed to him her intention to assassinate him, with his wife, mother, and sister, he took refuge with them for a while in the convent of the Trinity. Here he summoned to his aid General Gordon, a Scotchman, who, with all the foreign officers, immediately hastened to Peter. The young czar soon found himself surrounded by numerous friends; and these, animated by his personal bravery, and encouraged by his affable and generous demeanor, quickly put him in a position to resist the machinations of his sister. He accordingly compelled Sophia to take the veil, while Galitzin and a few others were banished to Siberia. Peter now hastened to Moscow, into which he made a solemn entrance, and in sight of all the people embraced Ivan, who left the whole of the power in the more able hands of his brother. From this instant he began to reign in reality as Peter I, although the name of the infirm Ivan remained as joint czar till his death in 1696.

One of the most cruel wrongs Sophia had committed on her brother, was that of keeping him in ignorance, and surrounding him, at the very age when character is formed, with every temptation to excess and dissipation. It cannot be supposed that he escaped the contamination of such lures; but most truly has it been said, that ‘his virtues were all his own, his vices those of his education and country.’ He early evinced one quality of a great mind—​the comprehension of his own ignorance, joined to the most ardent thirst for knowledge. His, too, was that faculty inseparable from the man born for a great ruler—​that quick and certain appreciation of the character and talents of others, which always enabled him to know the fit instrument with which to work out his plans. Thus, happening to dine one day at the house of the Danish minister, he was struck with the manners and conversation of the private secretary, at once perceiving the superiority of his mind. This was a youthful Genevese, named Le Fort, who had been educated for a mercantile profession; but being of an adventurous disposition, and early displaying decided military talents, had enlisted as a volunteer, and served in the low countries. After encountering several dangers, and having a narrow escape of transportation to Siberia, though for what offense we cannot discover, he found his way to Moscow, and obtained employment in the capacity we have mentioned.

Le Fort had received the advantages of a European education, and possessed great powers of observation. It was he who explained to the czar the wonderful superiority of the trained and disciplined troops of western Europe over the wild soldiery of Russia; and now it was that Peter conceived the daring plan of annihilating the Strelitzes, who had so often been instrumental in setting up and deposing monarchs. But his measures were at present cautious and secret. Soon after his friendship—​for it deserved the name—​with his young adviser, the czar formed a regiment on the European system, to which he appointed Le Fort colonel; and, to give his people a lesson of subordination, he entered himself as drummer! Indeed, as we shall see, it was his custom to aim at the root of all knowledge, and thoroughly master the subjects he took in hand; and he knew that he could not more thoroughly acquire a knowledge of military affairs than by passing through all the gradations of the profession.

It was through the same individual that Peter became acquainted with another person, who, in the sequel, exercised scarcely less influence in the empire than Le Fort himself. This was Menzikoff, a youth of the very humblest origin, who sought his fortune in Moscow at the age of fourteen, and became apprentice to a pastry-cook. He used to hawk cakes and pies about the streets, recommending them in a kind of song of his own composing. It was while engaged in this occupation that he attracted the attention of Le Fort, who entered into conversation with him, and, pleased with his ready wit, brought him to the czar. On Peter he must have made an equally favorable impression, for we find him mentioned as a royal page soon afterwards.

About the same time that Peter organized the body-guard under Le Fort’s direction, he commenced building some vessels, with which he purposed sailing down the Don, and attacking Azoph, which was then in the hands of the Turks. A reference to the map of Europe will show the importance of this place, which is in fact the key to the Black Sea; and nothing proves more completely the genius of Peter the Great, than the intuitive knowledge he possessed of the importance of maritime power, and the wants of his vast empire. Hemmed in by enemies—​for in those days neighboring states were commonly such—​the Black Sea commanded by the Turks, and the Baltic by the Swedes, he felt that his country could never be great till seaports were wrested from them. Former czars had issued edicts forbidding their subjects to travel beyond the empire. Peter saw that the great difficulty was, not to keep people in, but for anybody to get out; and he knew there was no better method of enlightening the ignorant, and of removing prejudices, than to encourage the influx of civilized strangers, and to afford facilities for his own people to travel in other countries. We are the last who would find merit in the exploits of mere military heroes or conquering rulers, but it is impossible to withhold our admiration from the youthful czar at this period of his career. The Ottoman empire was then one of the most powerful states in the world. A very few years before, Vienna had been besieged by 200,000 Turks, and the Emperor Leopold compelled to flee from his capital; and Sweden was a country greatly superior in the scale of civilization, possessing disciplined and experienced troops—​soon to have Charles XII, the most warlike monarch in Europe, at their head. But it was not from any love of ‘the game of war’ that Peter contemplated aggressions on his neighbors, but as the necessary means to a great end. He could not humanize his people without seaports; so seaports he was determined to have.

It is said that, in his childhood, Peter I had an absurd dread of water; indeed to such an extent, that crossing a river would throw him into convulsions. A story is told of his having narrowly escaped drowning when about five years old, the fright received on that occasion being the origin of this future antipathy; but, for our own part, we have very little faith in the tradition of the czar’s ‘hydrophobia.’ He was subject all his life to epileptic fits; but as his brothers had been afflicted with something similar, they were most probably hereditary. Perhaps the story of his dread of water was invented, to heighten the wonder of his achievements on that element. At all events, if it ever existed, it must early have been conquered; for in his boyhood he appears to have amused himself by paddling about the river Yausa, which passes through Moscow, in a little Dutch skiff, which had attracted him, from its being so superior to the flat-bottomed boats with which alone he was acquainted. Even when he had never seen the ocean, and was five hundred miles distant from the sea, he comprehended the wants of his vast unwieldy empire, and resolved that it should become a maritime power.

Accordingly, in 1695, he sailed down the Don, and attacked Azoph; but this first campaign was unsuccessful, chiefly in consequence of the desertion of an artillery officer named Jacob, who nailed up the Russian cannon, turned Mohammedan, and, going over to the Turks, defended the town against his former master. The czar, however, was not likely to be discouraged by a single failure. He renewed his attack the following year; and as the death of his brother John just at this time had thrown into his treasury the income which had maintained the dignity of the nominal czar, he had the means of strengthening and supplying his forces in a more efficient manner. The new ship-yard at Woronetz, on the Don, furnished him in the summer of 1696 with a fleet of twenty-three galleys, two galleasses, and four fire-ships, with which he defeated the Turkish fleet off Azoph. All relief by sea being now cut off, he pushed the siege with renewed vigor, and in two months—​July 29—​the Russians entered Azoph. To secure the possession of this key to the Black Sea, he enlarged and strengthened the forts, constructed a harbor capable of admitting heavy vessels, and gave orders for fifty-five war-ships to be built, at the same time keeping in view the construction of a canal whereby to connect the Don and the Volga.

A year or two before these events Peter had divorced himself from his wife, whom he had married in his boyhood—​a wife chosen for him, not a partner of his own choice. Many reasons have been assigned for this step; but the true one appears to be, that she was a woman of mean intellect, a slave of superstition and bigotry, the mere creature of the priests, and that, consequently, she opposed herself to all his plans of reformation; for the priests, knowing that their power would melt away before the torch of knowledge, lost no opportunity of vilifying the czar, and thwarting his schemes if possible. Peter certainly committed an error of judgment in leaving his son Alexis under her care, as the result proved; but to our mind it was a proof of kindness and consideration to the mother, which reveals a more feeling heart than historians generally allow him to have possessed.

A desirable seaport acquired, and an unsuitable wife got rid of, Peter’s next step was to send a number of young Russians to finish their education in Italy, Germany, and Holland. Hitherto Russia had been without an official representative in any of the states of Europe; but the czar fitted out a splendid embassy to the States-General of Holland, of which Le Fort and Menzikoff were the principal plenipotentiaries, Peter himself accompanying them, though simply as an attache to the mission. The ease and security with which he left his vast empire to the government of deputies, prove how firmly established was his power. Passing through Riga, on his way to Holland, he sought permission to visit the fortifications; but was refused by the Swedish governor—​an indignity which Peter resolved to punish by and by. Proceeding through Prussia, he was received by the king with great respect, and with all the pomp and circumstance of royalty. Here Peter separated himself from the embassy, and proceeded to Holland, traveling privately, and as fast as possible. He arrived at Amsterdam fifteen days before his ambassadors, and engaged a small apartment in the dockyard belonging to the admiralty. He soon afterwards adopted the habit of a Dutch skipper, and in that dress proceeded to Saardam, where he enrolled himself as a journeyman carpenter, under the name of Peter Michaeloff, in the employment of a ship-builder named Calf. Here he lived in a little shingle hut for seven weeks, made his own bed, and prepared his own food—​corresponded with his ministers at home, and labored at the same time in ship-building.

Such was the manner in which Peter the Great proposed to acquire the art of ship-building; as willing to work as a carpenter for this purpose, as he had been for another to do a drummer’s duty in his model regiment. Truly does one of his earliest biographers remark, ‘that many sovereigns have laid down their authority from weariness of the cares and troubles of empire, but he alone quitted his dominions in order to study the art of governing them.’ What a picture of Peter the Great presents itself to the contemplative mind at this period; and what a meeting must that have been which accidentally took place between him and the duke of Marlborough at Saardam! For the English noble was well aware that, in the workman ‘Peter Michaeloff,’ he beheld the undisputed proprietor of a quarter of the globe, the autocrat who had the power of life and death over all its inhabitants; in short, the czar of Muscovy. Peter was at this time, 1697, twenty-five years of age, and is described as a large, powerful man, with bold and regular features, dark-brown hair, that fell in natural curls about his neck, and a dark, keen eye, which glanced from one object to another with singular rapidity. He was dressed on that occasion in a red woolen shirt and duck trousers, and a sailor’s hat, and was seated, with an adze in his hand, upon a rough log of timber which lay upon the ground. He was conversing with great earnestness and much gesticulation with some strangers, his countenance displaying, by its strong and varying expression, the interest he took in their discourse. The soldier-duke—​is it not easy to imagine the contrast of costume and character?—​approached, and opened a slight conversation by some remarks on the art of ship-building. While they were thus engaged, a stranger in a foreign costume appeared, bearing an enormous letter in his hand; the journeyman started up, and snatching the packet, tore off the seals, and eagerly perused it, while the stately Marlborough walked away unregarded!

Who can tell what this very despatch contained! Most probably life or death, freedom or slavery, fame or fortune, of one or many of his subjects hung upon the word of that ‘foreign journeyman.’ It was while handling the compass and the adze at Saardam that the confirmation was brought him of the double, or rather rival, nomination of Augustus, elector of Saxony and prince of Conti, to the vacant throne of Poland; and Peter, already assuming the right to be a king-maker, promised to assist Augustus with thirty thousand troops. Meanwhile his army was gaining fresh victories near Azoph; but Peter had a nobler ambition than the desire of military glory. He continued to improve himself in different arts, passing frequently from Saardam to Amsterdam to hear lectures on anatomy; and he made himself capable of performing several operations in surgery. He also mastered the Dutch language, and made considerable progress in mathematics, civil engineering, and the science of fortification; besides visiting every literary, charitable, or scientific institution, and the paper-mills, saw-mills, and all manufacturing establishments, which he examined carefully, with the intention of introducing similiar ones into his own empire.

‘What is that?’ was his constant exclamation at beholding anything new; nor would his inquiring mind rest for a moment till he obtained an explanation. We can fancy the astonishment of the quiet, lethargic Hollanders at this energetic prince, who, though choosing to work as a carpenter, took no pains to conceal his rank; flying about the country with an activity of mind and body equally incomprehensible to them, and seeking knowledge with more ardour and avidity than other princes had ever sought even pleasure.

Peter spent about nine months in the Netherlands, during which time a sixty-gun ship was completed from his own draught and model, and at much of the carpentry of which he worked with his own hand. This vessel, said to be an admirable specimen of naval architecture, he sent to Archangel—​for as yet the czar had not a seaport on the Baltic. He then crossed over to England, where he was received with great attention by William III, who deputed the Marquis of Caermarthen to attend him, and devote himself to the service of the czar. Peter’s chief object was to examine the dockyards and maritime establishments of England as he had done those of Holland; but though he still preserved his incognito, he no longer worked as a journeyman. Yet, according to an old writer, ‘he would often take up the tools and work with them; and he frequently conversed with the builders, who showed him their draughts, and the method of laying down, by proportion, any ship or vessel.’ At first he lodged in York Buildings, while in London; and the last house next the river, on the east side of Buckingham Street, near the Strand, is said to have been inhabited by him; but afterwards, that he might be near the sea, he occupied a house belonging to the celebrated John Evelyn at Deptford.

Under the date of January 30, 1698, we find in Evelyn’s diary as follows:—​‘The czar of Muscovy being come to England, and having a mind to see the building of ships, hired my house, Saye’s Court, and made it his court and palace, new furnished by the king.’ And just about this time Mr. Evelyn’s servant writes to his master thus:—​‘There is a house full of people, and right nasty. The czar lies next your library, and dines in the parlour next your study. He dines at ten o’clock, and at six at night; is very seldom at home a whole day; very often in the king’s yard, or by water, dressed in several dresses. The king is expected there this day: the best parlour is pretty clean for him to be entertained in. The king pays for all he has.’ What a glimpse one gets at the past through such gossip as this!

Though the czar did not now carry his enthusiasm so far as to work as a carpenter, yet his fondness for sailing and managing boats was as eager here as in Holland. Sir Anthony Deane and the Marquis of Caermarthen were almost daily with him on the Thames, sometimes in a sailing yacht, and at others rowing in boats—​an exercise in which both the czar and the marquis are said to have excelled. The Navy Board received directions from the Admiralty to hire two vessels, to be at the command of the czar whenever he should think proper to sail on the Thames, to improve himself in seamanship. In addition to these, the king made him a present of the Royal Transport, with orders to have such alterations and accommodations made in her as his czarish majesty might desire; and also to change her masts, rigging, sails, etc. in such a way as he might think proper, to improve her sailing qualities. But his great delight was to get into a small-decked boat belonging to the dockyard, and taking only Menzikoff, and three or four others of his suite, to work the vessel with them, he being the helmsman. By this practice he said he should be able to teach them how to command ships when they got home. Having finished their day’s work, they used to resort to a tavern in Great Tower Street, close to Tower Hill, to smoke their pipes, and to drink beer and brandy. The landlord had the czar of Muscovy’s head painted, and put up for his sign, which continued till the year 1808, when some one took a fancy to the old sign, and offered the then occupier of the house to paint him a new one for it. A copy was accordingly made from the original, which maintains its station to the present day, as the sign of the ‘Czar of Muscovy.’

While in England, Peter also directed his attention to engineering; and, what is curious, received a doctorate from the university of Oxford. He took into his service upwards of five hundred persons—​officers, engineers, cannoneers, surgeons, etc.; in particular, a body of skillful engineers and artificers, whom he despatched to Russia, for the purpose of carrying out a great project which he had already arranged in his own far-seeing mind. This was to open a communication, by locks and canals, between the rivers Volga and Don and the Caspian Sea. And it may convey an idea of the ignorance and superstition with which Peter had to contend, that this noble scheme raised an outcry among the priests and nobles, who declared it was ‘a piece of impiety to turn the streams one way which Providence had directed another.’ Ferguson, the celebrated engineer and geometrician, entered into his service, and was the first person who brought arithmetic into use in the exchequer of Russia. Previously, they had made use only of the Tartarian method of reckoning, by balls strung upon a wire.

In the latter end of 1698, Peter returned to Holland on his way home; and on taking leave of King William, he presented him with a ruby of the value of £10,000, drawing it from his waistcoat pocket, ‘wrapped up in a bit of brown paper.’ It was truly a royal present, though not given after a very royal fashion; but Peter had a great contempt for forms and ceremonies, and William III was far too sensible a man to stand very greatly upon them. Peter also, in return for the attentions bestowed on him by the Marquis of Caermarthen, conferred on that nobleman the right to license every hogshead of tobacco exported to Russia, and to charge five shillings for each license. This must have brought a large revenue, for an English company had thought it worth while to pay £15,000 for the monopoly of the exportation. While in London, his attention was forcibly attracted to the magnificent building of Greenwich Hospital, which, until he had visited it, and seen the old pensioners, he had some difficulty in believing to be anything but a royal palace. King William having asked him one day how he liked his hospital for decayed seamen, the czar answered, ‘If I were the adviser of your majesty, I should counsel you to remove your court to Greenwich, and convert St. James’ into a hospital.’

From Holland, Peter traveled to Vienna, most probably to have an interview with the emperor of Germany, who was no doubt very glad to obtain an ally against his old enemies, the Turks. He was received with great pomp; but, in the midst of the festivities which marked his arrival, news reached him that an insurrection had broken out in Moscow, though it had already been quelled by the energy and decision of General Gordon, whom he had left in authority. This intelligence, however, induced him to give up a visit to Italy, which he had intended; and traveling with his usual speed, he hastened back to his capital. He soon discovered that the Strelitzes had been instigated to rebellion by the Princess Sophia, who, taking advantage of her brother’s absence, had hoped to resume her authority. Several of the ringleaders were hanged within sight of Sophia’s window, and others condemned to a more cruel death, and broken on the wheel. Certainly, when we consider how sanguinary the laws were at that period, even in the most civilized states of Europe, we cannot consider this retaliation undue severity on the part of Peter; indeed it appears to have been a necessary step to secure his own authority. As for the absurd stories which were current at the time, and which we are sorry to find repeated by many respectable writers, no credit should attach to them. We mean the stories of the wholesale massacres which took place—​Peter and his chief officers turning butchers themselves, and reveling in this preäppointed slaughtering with as little compunction as sportsmen when they find themselves in a preserve of game. A closer examination of facts and authorities dispels the whole as an idle report, exaggerated as it traveled from mouth to mouth, and quite out of keeping with the real circumstances of the case. It is true that Peter had already done a great many things ‘with his own hand’ that sovereigns had seldom done before; but then they were things which no one but himself was clever enough to do. His indifference to war (except as the means to his great ends), commented on with evident astonishment by an English churchman, whom he conversed with when he visited Oxford, is a proof that he was not of a sanguinary disposition; and besides this, he wanted men so much both for soldiers and workmen, that he could not spare the two or three thousand subjects who are said to have been beheaded, or otherwise slaughtered, for after-dinner pastime. It is much more likely that he should have set them to work in the hardest and meanest capacity on the canals and bridges he was already forming.

In 1699, Peter experienced a severe loss in the death of his friend and counselor, General Le Fort, on whom he bestowed funeral honors similar to those awarded to former sovereigns. He assisted, himself, in the procession, marching after the captains as a lieutenant, which rank he held in Le Fort’s regiment. It was also about this time that he lost his able general, Gordon, whose soldierly qualities had been so essential to him in the reformation of his army. Menzikoff, who had risen from obscurity by his talents and activity, now became the favorite and counselor of Peter. The Strelitzes—​those instruments of insurrection and turbulence—​were now supplanted by twenty-seven new regiments of infantry and two of cavalry, who, within three months, were disciplined and brought into marching order. Nothing but merit and length of services was regarded in the appointment of officers. Besides the reconstitution of the military, Peter now devoted himself with incessant activity to the internal regulation of his empire, which assumed, by degrees, the appearance of a new creation.

It was now that the czar turned his attention to change the inconvenient customs of his people. To do this, he began by levying a tax upon long beards and petticoats; patterns of closebodied coats being hung up in public places. But so attached were they to old customs, that his revenue was increased, instead of their dress being altered. His next proceeding savors somewhat of the ludicrous. He stationed tailors and barbers at each of the gates of Moscow, whose duty it was to cut the beard and whiskers of every man who entered, and ‘to cut his petticoats all round about.’ In the process of the latter mutilation, the victim was made to kneel down, when his garments were clipped on a level with the ground. An anecdote is told which has something almost affecting, in the proof it affords of the earnestness with which these poor people clung to their unclean and inconvenient habits. The czar on one occasion met an old man coming from the barber, and addressed him, saying that he looked like a young man, now he had lost his beard; upon which the man put his hand into his bosom, and drew forth the beard which had been cut off, telling the czar he should preserve it, in order to have it put into his coffin, that he might be able to produce it to St. Nicholas in the other world!

About this time the czar altered the commencement of the year from the 1st of September to the 1st of January—​a proceeding which gave almost equal offense to his people, who thought he was undertaking to change the course of the sun. He next instituted assemblies for the encouragement of social intercourse between the sexes, that people might have a reasonable opportunity of forming suitable marriages. Hitherto wives had been sought in the Asiatic manner—​the bride being given away or sold by her parents, without being previously seen by the intended bridegroom. And while all these social and moral reformations were going on, Peter was building a fleet on the Don, connecting that river with the Volga, and planning to wrest a sea-coast territory from a warlike nation, on which to build a new metropolis—​St. Petersburg.

Hitherto the capital of Russia had been Moscow, which, being inland, was ill adapted for commerce. With a view to remedy this defect, Peter fixed on a site for his new capital at the mouth of the river Neva, and adjoining the Gulf of Finland. But the land in this quarter was not his own: it belonged to Sweden. His object was therefore to seize upon one or two provinces, add them to Russia, and then commence building his town. It is distressing to have to relate such a circumstance of a man whom, on other grounds, we are inclined to respect. According to the way in which history is usually written, the commission of such acts is not only not reprobated, but in some cases is commended. We, however, cannot unite in glossing over acts of injustice, even though they be done by kings. Peter was guilty of rapacity, and the only excuse that can be found for him is, that he did nothing more than what all sovereigns of his time considered it no crime to commit. To attain his desired end in this and other respects, Peter, in 1700, entered into a political alliance with Augustus, king of Poland and elector of Saxony, and the king of Denmark. These three potentates combining against the youthful Charles of Sweden—​who, by a sort of miracle, proved himself, at eighteen years of age, the greatest general in Europe—​the czar determined to take from him the provinces of Ingria and Carelia; Augustus desired to regain Esthonia and Livonia, ceded by Poland to Charles XI; and Denmark wished to regain Holsten and Sleswick. Peter invaded Ingria at the head of 60,000 men; and, desirous to find some pretext for his aggressions, could choose no better one than that his ambassadors had been charged exorbitant prices for provisions while passing through that province on their way to Holland; though he also reminded them that he himself had been insulted by being refused a sight of the citadel of Riga!

At the latter end of September Peter laid siege to Narva, a fortified town on the river Narowa, just at the time that Charles was engaged with the Danes, and putting an end to the war in Denmark. This, however, was accomplished in a few weeks; and then, at the head of only 9000 troops, he came to the relief of Narva. Peter, probably astonished that the place had held out so long, but never doubting of ultimate success, left the army encamped before Narva to meet a body of nearly 30,000 men, whom he had sent for. The reason of this proceeding cannot be easily explained; for certainly the presence of the czar was most required with the main body, already 60,000 strong, at the scene of action. Probably he went forth to meet the reinforcement only from the restlessness of mind and impatience of delay which were part of his character. It was a false step, however. During his absence, on the 19th of November, Charles came up to Narva, and taking advantage of a tremendous snow-storm, which beat directly in the faces of the Russians, fell upon them, and with his 9000 men completely routed or captured an army of nearly seven times the number. The prisoners taken were nearly 40,000; and the inconvenience of the long petticoats was at last discovered, since they hindered a great number from—​running away! Never was a more ignominious defeat, though the czar bore it with the greatest philosophy. ‘I know very well,’ he said, ‘that the Swedes will have the advantage of us for a considerable time; but they will teach us at length to beat them.’

On the occasion of this defeat, the priests composed a prayer to St. Nicholas, which was publicly offered up. It besought his assistance against those ‘terrible, insolent, furious, dreadful, invincible destroyers,’ who had fallen upon them ‘like lions and bears deprived of their young—​frightening, wounding, and killing them by thousands’—​and declaring that such calamities could only have befallen them from ‘witchcraft and sorcery.’ Peter, however, did not wait for the help of St. Nicholas. He entered into negotiations with the kings of Denmark and Poland to assist him with troops, and to keep up the quarrel with Charles XII; at the same time he melted the church and convent bells of Moscow to found cannon, and made every preparation for his intended campaign in the ensuing spring. But amid all his preparations for war, Peter never lost sight of those projects which were to bring forth their fruits in peace. At this period he was founding hospitals and schools, erecting linen and paper factories, and importing sheep from Saxony, gathering together smiths, braziers, and artificers of every description, and having the mines of Siberia explored for ore.

It is not our purpose to detail the battles and sieges which took place in the course of the following year or two, although we must mention one of them more particularly, as it was the occasion of introducing to Peter a person who henceforth took part in his fortunes. Marienburg was a little town on the confines of Ingria and Livonia, which, besieged by Peter’s army, surrendered at discretion. Either through accident or design, the Swedes who defended it set fire to the magazine, which so incensed the Russians, that they destroyed the town, and carried away all the inhabitants. Among the prisoners was a young girl of about sixteen years of age, a Livonian by birth, who had been brought up from charity in the house of a Lutheran minister. There is no reason to suppose she had occupied any higher station than that of servant in his family; but it is said that she had been married to a Swedish soldier, who fell in the siege, the very day before it took place. This widowed orphan was taken to the camp of one of the Russian generals. Precisely how or when Peter first saw her, can never be known; but the best authenticated and most likely story is, that while engaged in handing round dried fruits and liquors at the house, or in the tent of Prince Menzikoff, the Livonian slave, known only by the name of Martha, first attracted the attention of the czar. According to his invariable custom, when pleased by the manners or countenance of any one, he entered into conversation with her, and soon discovered that she possessed a mind of more than ordinary intelligence. To this she joined, as events proved, a cheerful and lively disposition, a kind heart, and an amiable temper. No doubt Peter had penetration enough to see that she was precisely the woman who could share his enthusiasm, sympathise in his plans, and be, in short, the wife he wanted. The meanness, or indeed obscurity of her birth, was no obstacle to him; he had absolute power to raise her to the loftiest condition in his empire; and, accordingly, by the name of Catherine, which she now adopted, he married her at first privately, but a few years afterwards with the state and ceremony of public nuptials. Thus was chosen the partner of his throne, and his successor upon it.

It was soon after these events—​1700—​that the death of ‘the patriarch,’ or supreme head of the Russian church, afforded the czar an opportunity of beginning some wholesome reforms in that quarter. He had thought it necessary to commence his military career by fulfilling the humblest duties of a soldier, and we have seen that he set about learning the art of ship-building by working with his own hands; but when he boldly annihilated the office of patriarch, and placed himself, without any preparatory steps, at the head of the church, he probably thought there was nothing the priests could teach him which he desired to learn. Certainly a set of men who believed that sanctity dwelt in a beard, and who were in the habit of placing letters of introduction to their patron saint in the hands of deceased persons when laid in their coffins, were not likely to meet with much respect from a great reformer like Peter I: and the few whose glimmer of intelligence raised them above the gross superstition and corruption of the mass, must have experienced all the temptations of self-interest to oppose themselves to the projects of the czar; for they must have known that the nation once enlightened, their power would be gone.

Let us however, not be misunderstood in the use we may make of the words ‘nation’ and ‘people.’ As a nation—​as a people—​the Russians are not to this day sufficiently enlightened to choose their own legislators and enjoy a constitutional form of government; and, sunk in the ignorance and barbarism from which Peter partially raised them, a perfect despot, such as he was, was the only ruler that could have had power enough to help them.

The printing-press, which Peter had introduced, vomited forth libels of various sorts upon him; and he was denounced as Antichrist by the priests. A few, however, defended him from this charge, but only because ‘the number six hundred and sixty-six was not to be found in his name, and he had not the sign of the beast.’

It was about this time that the czar took an excellent opportunity of showing that new customs are generally better than old ones. On the occasion of the marriage of one of his sisters, he invited the principal Boyards and ladies of Moscow to celebrate it, requiring them to appear dressed after the ancient fashion. The dinner was served up in the manner of the sixteenth century. By an ancient superstition, it was forbidden to kindle a fire on a wedding day; accordingly, though it was winter, no fire was permitted. Formerly, the Russians never drank wine, so none was provided; and when the guests murmured at any of the unpleasant arrangements, Peter replied, ‘These were the customs of your ancestors, and you say old customs are the best.’ A practical lesson of more force than wordy arguments, and one that might afford a useful hint in much more recent times.

Having obtained the provinces he required, Peter set about building St. Petersburg; in the execution of which work he overcame difficulties which would have discouraged any other man. The spot he fixed upon was a miserable morass, half under water, without wood, or clay, or stones, or building materials of any kind; with a barren soil, and a climate of almost polar severity. The resolution to build this city has always been spoken of as an act of extreme rashness; for, to its other disadvantages, it was liable to be flooded by the waters of the gulf on the prevalence of a south-west wind, more particularly if the wind should blow at a time when the ice of the Neva was breaking up in the summer thaws.

Whether Peter was aware of all these disadvantages, is not clearly ascertained. It is only certain that, notwithstanding every drawback, he continued the building of St. Petersburg, which, under his marvelous energy, soon became a splendid city, adapted for commerce with all the world. What he began, his successors have finished; and St. Petersburg now vies in grandeur with any city in Europe. Although never seriously injured by flooding, as was anticipated, it has on divers occasions been exposed to great alarm, and the safety of the inhabitants has been endangered. Indeed inundations are so frequent in many of the low parts, that water is as much dreaded in St. Petersburg as fire in many other cities; accordingly, precautions have been taken to guard as much as possible against any such calamity. When an inundation is anticipated, a cannon is fired from the Admirality, and signal-flags hoisted on the steeples, and the alarm-gun is repeated every hour until the danger appears at an end.

When the river rises so high as to lay the lowest streets under water, the alarm-gun is fired every quarter of an hour; and in proportion as the peril increases, the cannons are more frequently fired, until minute-guns are understood to be a cry of despair, summoning boats to the assistance of the drowning people.

The highest inundation of which there is any record occurred on the 17th of November 1824; and in every street there is a painted mark, showing the height to which the waters rose. The Russians speak with a shudder of the sufferings which took place on that occasion. The rise of the river was at first gradual and stealthy; but, impelled by a furious west wind, it soon came streaming through the streets, lifting some of the carts and equipages from the ground, but drowning many horses, which were unable to extricate themselves from the heavier vehicles to which they were attached. A description is given of the trees in the public squares being as much crowded with human beings as they had ever been seen with sparrows; and a story is told of a gardener who, having been engaged in clipping some trees on an acclivity, had not observed the rise of the water until it was too late to seek any other refuge than the roof of a garden pavilion. But here he was joined by such a host of rats and mice, that he was in no small danger of being devoured by them. Fortunately, however, a dog and a cat sought refuge in the same spot, and, with such powerful allies, he remained in safety all night. The river subsided to its accustomed channel the next day; but, dreadful as the loss of life and property had been, the worst effects had still to follow. Many houses fell in from the injury they had received, and it was long before the damp could be expelled from those which remained. Almost universal sickness was the consequence, and a fearful mortality from the epidemics which raged for weeks afterwards.

To return, however, to Peter. His chief antagonist was Charles XII of Sweden, one of the greatest soldiers of his age. Charles had evidently nothing more dignified in his nature than might belong to a gladiator or prize-fighter. He lived as if men came into the world to fight, and for nothing else. He had no idea of such a condition as peace. He laughed at all social and domestic ties, and made a jest of the severest trials of human affections. He had not a heart capable of love or friendship himself, and despised all those who had. He was simply destructive; no fertilizing or humanizing influence followed his career; and when, at a later period, his absence on a disastrous expedition had been protracted for years, and his neglected and impoverished subjects besought him to return home, his answer was, that he would send ‘one of his boots to govern them’—​a sorry jest, but one that sufficiently showed his nature.

Peter, on the other hand, never encouraged war, except for the furtherance of some great object. While fighting battles, he was at the same time planning cities, founding hospitals and scholastic institutions, forming canals, building bridges, and traveling about to superintend everything himself, under all circumstances, and in all seasons; and by such means undermining his constitution, and sowing the seeds of disease, which carried him off in the prime of life. In his early years his habits were intemperate, it is true; but though he is reported to have said, ‘I can reform my people, but I cannot reform myself,’ he did reform those pernicious habits which had been systematically inculcated by the machinations of the infamous Sophia, and in the latter part of his life lived abstemiously. Peter was a creator, constructor, and reformer among his people, and well deserved the title of Great.

While Charles was busy elsewhere, Peter took the opportunity of again attacking Narva. He laid siege to it by sea and by land, although a large body of his troops were still in Poland, others defending the works at St. Petersburg, and another detachment before Derpt. But after several assaults on one side, and a most determined resistance on the other, Narva was at length taken, the Czar being among the first to enter the city sword in hand. His behavior on this occasion must have gained him the respect and even the affection of his new subjects. The besiegers had forced their way into the town, where they pillaged and exercised all the cruelties so common with an infuriate soldiery. Peter ran from street to street, rescued several women from the brutal soldiers, and endeavored by every means to put an end to violence and slaughter, killing with his own hand two of the ruffians who had refused to obey his orders. He entered the town-hall, whither the citizens had run in crowds for shelter, and, laying his reeking sword upon the table, he exclaimed, ‘This sword is not stained with the blood of your fellow-citizens, but with that of my own soldiers, which I have spilt to save your lives!’

As soon as Peter had acquired the provinces he wished, he became anxious for peace; but violence always suggests reprisals; and Charles was by no means inclined to lose a portion of his territory without further fighting. He in fact determined on undertaking an inroad into Russia, and dictating a treaty of peace at Moscow. Peter, who knew the nature of the Russian territory and population, was not alarmed at this decision of his rival. His clear intellect perceived the difficulties which the rigorous climate and vast extent of country to be traversed must present to an invading army, and he took measures quietly to increase these impediments. The army of Charles ravaged the country wherever they went, and put to death, without remorse, hundreds of the peasantry, whom they suspected of concealing from them grain or other provisions. It may convey some idea of the demoralizing influence of war, and the strange distorted notions which prevailed, to mention that the chaplain of the king of Sweden praises these executions as acts of justice on the part of his master!

The Czar, with his army, retreated slowly before the advancing enemy—​thus drawing them on, step by step, into the heart of a barren country, until the northern monarchs and their followers were lost to the world among the wildernesses of ancient Scythia. But the circumstances of the Czar were very different from those of the invader. He was at home, knew even the wilderness, and was in safe and convenient communication with his own cities and magazines. His hundred thousand men were well provided, and, before the snows of winter set in, were in comfortable quarters. About this time Mazeppa, the hetman of the Cossacks, deserts from Peter to Charles, and so far changes the purpose of the latter, that instead of proceeding direct to Moscow, he resolves first to reduce the Ukraine, which is a fertile territory lying between ancient Poland and Moldavia, and was then, as now, belonging to Russia. Some of the Swedish officers implored their king to halt, and go into the best quarters they could find for the winter. But no; he would go on; and after the loss of thousands of his men from cold, hunger, disease, and misery of all sorts, he laid siege to Pultowa, a town of the Ukraine, in the month of May, 1709, with the remnant of 80,000 men, now numbering less than 20,000!

On the 15th of June the Czar came up to assist his besieged town; by a feint, which deceived the Swedes, he succeeded in throwing 2000 men into the place; and a few days afterwards the famous battle of Pultowa took place, at which the Swedish army was completely routed and destroyed. Both sovereigns appeared in the front of the battle, although Charles, having received a wound a few days before, which had broken the bones of his foot, was carried about in a litter, to give directions; and the litter being shattered by a cannon-ball, he was then supported on the pikes of his soldiers, several of whom fell in this dangerous service. However, when all was over, desperation lent him strength; for he was able to make his escape on horseback. In its results, this battle was one of the most important ever fought in Europe. Had the Czar fallen, there can be no question his people would have sunk back into the barbarism from which he was striving to draw them, and Denmark, Poland, and Russia, must have received laws from the brutal Swede. By the mercy of Providence these horrors were averted; and henceforth Charles became an object of pity rather than dread.

After the battle, Peter invited the Swedish officers taken prisoners to dinner, and drank to their health as ‘his masters in the art of war.’ His prophetic words at Narva were now verified: the Swedes had indeed taught the Russians to beat them. However, the greater part of these ‘masters’—​officers, subalterns, and privates—​were sent to Siberia; for Charles had refused an exchange of prisoners previous to the battle, and now Peter would not grant it. Meanwhile Charles escaped to Bender, and took refuge among the Turks. By his emissaries he represented to the sultan the growing power of Russia, revived in him the desire to recover Azoph, and to expel the Russians from the Black Sea; and finally succeeded in bringing about a declaration of war from Turkey against the Czar. The Turks commenced hostilities by imprisoning the Muscovite ambassador, upon which Peter levied an army, and marched to the frontier of Turkey at the head of 40,000 men. Before setting out, however, he made a public proclamation of his previous marriage with Catherine, who insisted upon accompanying him in this campaign.

It is a singular circumstance that, in this expedition, Peter fell into an error almost identical with that which had led to the overthrow of his rival. Charles had trusted to the representations of the double traitor Mazeppa, who promised to supply him with food and men; and Peter allowed himself to be led into a hostile and barren country, relying on the faithless hospodar of Moldavia, who had promised him similar assistance. On reviewing the coincidence, one cannot help fancying that perhaps, after all, there might be less of stratagem on the part of the czar than chance movements, which led the Swede on to his ruin, or surely he would not have been blind to the consequences of conduct so similar. To be brief: when Peter had crossed the river Pruth, he found himself near Jassy, hemmed in between an army of Turks and another of Tartars, with a rapid river rolling between him and his dominions, with scarcely any provisions, and without perceiving the means of procuring them; and in this manner were the 40,000 Russians held at bay by enemies whose numbers were said to amount to 200,000. Still they fought desperately; a sort of protracted battle going on for three days, during which time 18,000 men were lost. The situation of the czar was dreadful. One can imagine the agony of mind he must have endured at the thought of perhaps himself being paraded as a captive at Constantinople: yet retreat was impossible; and escape from death or capture seemed equally hopeless.

In this hour of torture and distress the czar shut himself up in his tent, either to take counsel of himself, or to hide his deep mortification. He gave strict orders that no one should disturb him; but the wife who had shared his perils, and knew his heart, ventured to transgress these commands, and made her way to his side. She found him in terrible convulsions—​an attack of the fits to which he was subject having been brought on by the agony of his mind. Catherine, who possessed an extraordinary power of calming him on these occasions, applied the usual remedies; and, assuming a cheerful manner, described the idea which had suggested itself to her mind as a means of escaping the threatened ruin.

Certainly this idea was so simple and natural a thing, under the circumstances, that the only marvel is, that it had not occurred to Peter himself and his entire staff. She proposed that a negotiation should be attempted; and, to comply with the custom of approaching the grand vizier with presents, she stripped herself of her jewels, and ransacked the camp for every article of value that might make a suitable offering. It is not likely that, on this military tour, she had encumbered herself with any costly ornaments, and two black foxes’ skins are the only articles we find specially mentioned.

She it was who chose the officer she considered most intelligent and trustworthy for the important mission to the vizier, and she it was who gave him his instructions. Some hours having elapsed after his departure, it was feared that he had been killed, or was detained a prisoner; and a council of war was held, at which we find Catherine was present. At this council it was resolved that, if the Turks refused to enter into a treaty of peace, rather than lay down their arms and throw themselves on their mercy, the Russians would risk their lives by attempting to cut their way through the enemy. During this interval, Peter, despairing of any favorable results from the mission, and reduced to despondency, wrote to the senate at Moscow—​‘If I fall into the hands of the enemy, consider me no longer as your sovereign, and obey no commands which shall proceed from the place of my confinement, though it should be signed by my own hand. If I perish, choose the worthiest among you to succeed me.’

The return of the messenger, however, prevented these desperate measures, for he brought the intelligence that an honorable treaty had been agreed to by the vizier. The partisans of Charles XII have always upbraided what they call the cowardice of the Turkish governor on this occasion; but it seems to us that he behaved in a dignified and enlightened manner, and, in consenting to put an end to the war, consulted the interests of his country, a hundred times more than if he had sacrificed fresh troops in opposing the czar, and driving the Russian army to desperation. Hostilities were suspended immediately; and soon afterwards articles were signed, by which Azoph was surrendered to the Turks, the czar excluded from the Black Sea, the Russian army withdrawn beyond the Danube, and the promise given of a free passage to Charles XII through Russia to his own dominions. Much as this seems for Peter to have sacrificed, that Catherine’s services were considered extraordinary is proved beyond question; and several years afterwards, on the occasion of her being crowned empress, Peter again publicly acknowledged them, referring to that ‘desperate occasion’ in these words—​‘She signalized herself in a particular manner by a courage and presence of mind superior to her sex, which is well known to all our army, and to the whole Russian empire.’

The fury of Charles on hearing of this treaty knew no bounds. He sought the Turkish camp, and insulted the vizier to his face, who retorted only by some bitter sarcasms on his own prostrate condition. He refused to take advantage of his right to return home; and, still nourishing the insane hope of being able to attack Moscow, he lingered at Bender till 1714, when the Turks, heartily tired of their troublesome guest, sent an army to dislodge him, and he made his way to Sweden in the disguise of a courier.

Of Charles XII of Sweden we need only further say that he fell from a chance ball, which entered his temple, and killed him on the spot, on the 11th of December 1718, while conducting the siege of Frederickshall, a small town in Norway; just in time, according to some historians, to prevent a union with his old opponent the czar to disturb the government of Great Britain. If the mere existence of such a scourge as Charles XII were not in itself too grave a subject for mirth, one might be amused at the acknowledgments of his panegyrist Voltaire, who, in summing up his character, alludes to his great qualities, of which he says—​‘One alone would have been enough to immortalize any other prince;’ and yet admits that they caused the misery of his country. And that his ‘firmness, become obstinacy, led to the sufferings of his army in the Ukraine, and its detention in Turkey; that his liberality degenerated into profusion, and ruined Sweden; that his justice sometimes’—​we should say very often—​‘approached to cruelty; and that the maintenance of his authority verged upon tyranny.’ Moreover, that he ‘gained empires to give them away.’ Yes; for the mere pleasure, to him, of fighting and slaughtering! What a pity he was not born a butcher instead of a king! If an admirer acknowledged thus much, what was the truth likely to have been?

Meanwhile Peter had been going on with his mighty reforms, notwithstanding the opposition of the ignorant and superstitious priesthood, who worked on the people by every means in their power. They taught them that all these alterations were in direct opposition to the will of Heaven; and among other tricks, persuaded them that the pictures of the saints wept at their transgressions. This deception was contrived by making a cavity behind the head of the picture, and filling it with water; then, when the occasion arrived that it was proper for the tears to flow, a little fish was put into the water, which, splashing about, forced out the water at the eyes of the painting.

In 1715–16, Peter indulged himself by making a second tour in Europe, taking Catherine with him. He visited Saardam, where, eighteen years before, he had worked as a ship-builder; and where he was now received with every demonstration of honor and regard. It is related that he showed the czarina, with much interest, the little cabin in which he had worked and lived. There were some political reasons which detained Peter for nearly three months in Holland. He was nearer the centre of intelligence than at home concerning the purposes of other powers, some of whom were plotting against him. However, after conducting a correspondence, and drawing up a treaty with France, he returned to St. Petersburg, traveling by way of Berlin.

We come now to a dark and mysterious passage in the life of Peter the Great. Alexis, Peter’s son by his divorced wife, appears to have possessed naturally but an inferior intellect, joined to that species of low cunning which often belongs to it, without any moral qualities to counterbalance such defects; and unfortunately his mistaken education had confirmed him in his vices and follies. We have already mentioned that, on his marriage being dissolved, Peter allowed his son to remain with his mother. The consequence was, that from an early age he was placed under the control of the priests, who not only instilled into his mind their own superstitious notions, but taught him that the changes in the government and manners of the people effected by the czar were acts offensive to God. It is impossible to help sympathizing with Peter in the disappointment he must have felt at finding his only son a stupid, and yet mischievous and profligate creature; for the only son which Catherine brought him died a mere infant. Remembering that the Russian succession was vested in the will of the autocrat, who was supposed to have a perfect right to bequeath the sovereignty to whomsoever he pleased, every candid reader will acknowledge that Peter was quite justified in disinheriting his unworthy son, whose first act, on gaining the reigns of government, would have been to undo, to the best of his ability, the great works of his predecessor. But it is impossible to justify the extreme severity of the czar, although we can comprehend the excuses which might be offered for it. Not that historians do offer them, for they seem, almost without exception, to dwell on the darkest side of the question, almost without remembering the provocatives to his wrath. The simple truth is a deep enough tragedy.

When Alexis was about twenty years of age, which appears to have been as soon as Peter discovered the mischief that was done, he tried to repair it, by placing a different order of persons about him, and sending him to travel. When he came back, he married him to an amiable and intelligent princess of the house of Brunswick, who died in less than four years, literally of a broken heart, from the neglect, cruelty, and profligacy of her brutal husband. After her death, Peter wrote a letter to his son, which concluded with these words:—​‘I will still wait a little time to see if you will correct yourself; if not, know that I will cut you off from the succession as we lop off a useless member. Don’t imagine that I mean only to frighten you; don’t rely upon your being my only son; for if I spare not my own life for my country and the good of my people, how shall I spare you? I would rather leave my kingdom to a foreigner who deserves it, than to my own son who makes himself unworthy of it.’ And in a subsequent letter, Peter said—​‘Take your choice; either make yourself worthy of the throne, or embrace a monastic state.’

But Alexis seemed not at all inclined to do either; although, during fits of pretended penitence, he was willing to do anything. There is no doubt, however, that the terror of the Czar was, that even if his son entered a monastery, he might still at his death be placed at the head of that party who were opposed to reform, and so recover the throne. It seems to us that this dread of future ruin to the country is the true explanation of Peter’s severity; for, taking into account the barbarism of the times, and the sanguinary laws all over Europe, we can find no evidence of a cruel disposition in the history of Peter the Great.

Before the Czar set out for Germany and France, he visited his son, who was then on a bed of sickness. On this occasion Alexis solemnly promised that, if he recovered, he would embrace a monastic life; but his father was no sooner out of Russia, than the prince became suddenly well, and entered upon his former life of riot and dissipation. Some intelligence of what was occurring at home reached the Czar, and he wrote a peremptory letter to his son, desiring him either to enter a monastery without delay, or join him at Copenhagen. Upon this Alexis declared his intention of going to Copenhagen, and drew money from Menzikoff for his traveling expenses. But, apparently frightened at the thought of meeting his father—​and really it is easy to fancy the incensed czar an object of great terror to the culprit—​he proceeded to Vienna, there to concoct some treasonable schemes with the emperor of Germany, who, however, alarmed at the probable consequences, got rid of him; and from Vienna he turned his steps to Naples. His plan seems to have been to get out of his father’s way as far as possible, and wait the chances of life and death that might place him in some new position. But Peter I, either as a sovereign or a father, was not a personage to be treated in this manner. Accordingly, we find him despatching two messengers to Naples, to bring Alexis back to Moscow by fair means or foul. There is evidence that he accompanied them, on the solemn assurance of his father’s forgiveness; and this deception certainly gives the darkest hue to the trial and condemnation which followed.

As soon as Alexis arrived at Moscow, which was in February, 1718, a council was called, at which he was publicly disinherited; and after a long private conference with the czar, the particulars of which never transpired, Alexis was arraigned as a criminal, and tried for conspiring against his father’s life and throne by a body of ‘ministers and senators, estates military and civil.’ Peter was so accustomed to make his own will the law, that in this array of judges there is clear evidence that he wished in some measure to throw the responsibility from his own shoulders, or rather to seem to do so; for no doubt the judges only strove to decide in the manner which should best please their master. After all, the condemnation chiefly rested upon the confession of Alexis himself, and the acknowledgments of his mistress, his companions, and his confessor; and the words of these were wrung from them on the rack. Certainly Alexis made himself out to be much more guilty than any other evidence proved; and yet the czar’s only excuse for revoking his pardon was, that it had been promised ‘on condition that he confessed everything.’

There can be no doubt that this weak and vicious young man had been quite ready to lend himself to any plot; or, according to his own words, ‘If the rebels had asked me to join them in your lifetime, I should most likely have done so—​if they had been strong enough.’ And in answer to another question, he said that he ‘had accused himself in confession of wishing the death of his father;’ but that the priest had replied that God would pardon it, as they all wished it as much.

At last he is found guilty. A council of clergy, who are among those referred to for a sentence, quote from the Bible, and especially Absalom’s case, and recommend mercy. But further transgressions are said to have come to light, and the ministers, senators, and generals unanimously condemned him to death, without stating the manner or time of the same, and of course well knowing that the breath of the czar could revoke their edict.

Whether Peter intended to save his son, or really to permit his execution, is among those secrets which history can never pierce. The sentence alone literally terrified Alexis to death! On hearing it read, he fell into a fit, from the effects of which he never recovered, although he regained his senses sufficiently to implore the presence of his father. An interview was granted, at which it is said both father and son shed tears; and finally, after receiving the pardon of the czar, and the consolations of religion, the miserable Alexis breathed his last in prison on the 7th of July.

The most absurd stories were current for a long time, and repeated from mouth to mouth, and copied by one biographer after another. They are still to be found in many otherwise grave authorities. The very number and variety of these tales falsify them all. The czar was accused of poisoning his son (sending openly one messenger after another for the poison); other accounts say that he knouted him to death with his own hands; others, that he cut off his head himself, and had it privately stitched on again. The best argument against such fables is, that if Peter really wished his son’s death, he had only to let the so-called ‘course of justice’ have its way. Besides, the circumstance of his receiving extreme unction, when on the point of death, is a fact authenticated and established.

As may be imagined, Catherine did not escape her share of these accusations; but all the evidence which remains tends to prove that, so far from meriting them, she endeavored to incline her husband to the side of mercy.

We are drawing near the close of the active and eventful life of Peter the Great. We need not dwell upon his Persian campaign, in which, after having found a pretext for a quarrel, because he wanted one, he acquired those sunny provinces to the south of the Caspian, which compensated for the loss of Azoph. ‘It is not land I want, but water,’ was his frequent exclamation, when studying the requirements of his vast empire. The ruler who had first evinced his love of maritime affairs by paddling a skiff upon the Yausa, and who had inherited only a wild and barbarous inland country, was now the master of a respectable navy, the lord of the sunny Caspian and of the icy Baltic.

After his return from Persia in 1722, we find him, as usual after any lengthened absence, instituting examinations for mal-administration. The vice-chancellor Schaffiroff, one of his favorites, was condemned to death; but on the scaffold his punishment was commuted to banishment. Menzikoff was sentenced to pay 200,000 rubles into the exchequer, and was deprived of a great part of his income, and flogged by the emperor’s own hand. For the infliction of this punishment Peter used his dubina—​a cane of thick Spanish reed. Several others were disgraced, flogged, or heavily fined—​thus at once showing the czar’s impartiality, and proving how well he knew the impossibility of reforming the masses while corruption existed in high places.

In July 1724, Peter again conducted a fleet against Sweden, to enforce his claims on Sweden and Denmark in behalf of the duke of Holstein. Having effected this purpose, he returned to Cronstadt, where he celebrated, by a splendid parade, the creation of his navy, which now consisted of forty-one ships of war, with 2106 cannon, and 14,960 seamen. It was on this occasion that he caused the little skiff we have mentioned to be brought from Moscow, and to be consecrated by the name of the Little Grandsire—​the father of the Russian navy. This little shallop is still preserved at St. Petersburg with almost religious veneration.

The last years of this great monarch’s life were employed in providing against the inundations to which his new capital was exposed in the autumn, in continuing the Ladoga canal, and in the erection of an academy of sciences. He turned his attention next to the examination and punishment of state criminals; to the promotion of the labors of the legislative body; and the establishment of the order of ‘Alexander Newsky;’ the improvement of the condition of the monks; the banishment of the Capuchins from Russia; and a new commercial treaty with Sweden. He also betrothed his favorite daughter Anna to the duke of Holstein in 1724, having already placed the crown, with great pomp, upon the head of his wife Catherine on the 18th of the preceding May, in token of his love and gratitude. He likewise provided that an education should be given to the surviving son of the unhappy Alexis, such as would become a future emperor of Russia—​his only son by Catherine having died, as before mentioned, when a child, in 1717.

Peter had been for a considerable time in a weak state of health; but he owed the acceleration of his death to an act of humanity. Late in the autumn of 1724, going to visit the forge and manufactory of arms at Systerbeck he saw a boat filled with soldiers and sailors stranded, and sent a shallop to assist, but which failed in the attempt. Determined to gain his end, he set out for the spot himself; and as his vessel could not quite reach the spot, he leaped into the water, and waded to the boat, which he aided in getting off. A severe cold followed this dangerous but humane act, and this, in addition to the painful disorder from which he had long been suffering, brought on the most fatal symptoms. These came on so suddenly at last, and his sufferings were so great, that he was unable to make his last wishes perfectly intelligible. There is, however, little or no doubt that he intended to appoint his wife his successor. His words, so far as they could be understood, expressed this; and on the very day of his death she succeeded him without opposition. Catherine watched by his bedside, without quitting him, for the last three nights of his life; and he breathed his last in her arms January 28, 1725, being only in his fifty-fourth year.

The reader of this brief biography may sum up the character of Peter the Great more satisfactorily than we can do it for him; for different minds will estimate differently his services to his country. That he was a man of powerful and original genius, who did everything himself, and was never the instrument of others, must be conceded on all hands. His ardor was joined with prudence and resolution. His violent passions and sensual excesses were the fruits of the barbarism of his nation, his imperfect education, and uncontrolled power. His services to a people so ignorant and barbarous were of the greatest possible value; indeed all of good that Russia now enjoys may, without much exaggeration, be ascribed to him. But, for him, or such as him, they might have remained till now as rude and powerless as when he found them. Among the Russians his name is venerated as it deserves to be. St. Petersburg, the city of his love and of his creation—​‘the western portal of the empire’—​is now a magnificent metropolis, with palaces, arsenals, quays, bridges, academies, and temples, rising one beyond another; albeit that the severity of its climate must forever be a drawback to its many advantages.

Benjamin Thompson, better known by the name of Count Rumford, which he afterwards acquired, was born at Woburn in Massachusetts on the 26th of March 1753. His ancestors appear to have been among the earliest of the colonists of Massachusetts, and in all probability came originally from England. They seem to have held a respectable rank among their neighbors, and to have been for one or two generations moderately wealthy.

Ebenezer Thompson, the grandfather of Count Rumford, held a captain’s commission in the militia of the province, and was therefore a man of some repute in the place where he resided. Count Rumford’s father, whose name was also Benjamin, dying while his son was a mere infant, the mother and child continued in the grandfather’s house, which had been their home even while the husband was alive. In October 1755, however, the old man died, leaving a small provision for his grandson, barely sufficient, it would appear, to maintain him till he should arrive at an age to be able to do something for himself. In the following year Mrs. Thompson, whose maiden name was Ruth Limonds, married a second husband, Josiah Pierce, also a resident in Woburn; and the boy accompanied his mother to the house of his stepfather, who stipulated, however, that he should receive the weekly sum of two shillings and fivepence for the child’s maintenance till he attained his eighth year. His grandfather’s little legacy seems to have furnished the means of meeting this demand.

As soon as young Thompson was able to learn his letters, he was sent to the school of his native town, taught by a Mr. John Fowle, who is said to have been ‘a gentleman of liberal education, and an excellent teacher;’ and here in company with all the children of the place, he was taught reading, writing, arithmetic, and a little Latin, having the reputation, it is said, of being a quick boy. At the age of eleven he left the school of Woburn, and joined one taught by a Mr. Hill at Medford, under whose care he made greater advances in mathematics than he had attempted under Mr. Fowle. The only circumstances from which we can form an idea of the progress he made, is the statement that his knowledge of mathematics and astronomy was sufficient to enable him to calculate eclipses.

At thirteen years of age Thompson was bound apprentice to Mr. John Appleby, a respectable merchant in Salem, the second town in point of size in Massachusetts, although at that time it must have been little more than a village. His occupations with Mr. Appleby were principally those of a clerk in the counting-house; and he appears to have had sufficient leisure, while attending to his duties, to extend his reading and his acquaintance with scientific subjects. At this time also he began to exibit a taste for designing and engraving, as well as for mechanical invention. Among other contrivances upon which he exercised his ingenuity, was one for solving the famous problem of the Perpetual Motion; a chimera upon which young men of a turn of mind similar to his often try their untaught powers. One evening, we are informed, the young speculator was so sure that he had at length found out the Perpetual Motion, that he set out with the secret in his head to Woburn, intending to communicate it to a friend and old schoolfellow, Loammi Baldwin, in whose knowledge in such matters he placed great confidence. Loammi spent the night discussing the project with him, and so sensibly, that we are told young Thompson became convinced of the mechanical impossibility of his or any other Perpetual Motion, and returned to his counting-house in Salem next morning, resolved to attempt something less magnificent and more practicable.

About this time the differences between the mother country and the American colonies were beginning to assume a serious aspect. The imposition of the famous stamp tax in 1765 had excited great indignation among the colonists, and its repeal in the following year was celebrated with proportionate rejoicings. At Salem, where the commercial interest predominated, it was determined that there should be a great display of fireworks on the occasion; and as the town did not possess a professional pyrotechnist, Mr. Appleby’s clerk contrived to get his services in that capacity accepted. Unluckily, while preparing some detonating mixture, he handled the pestle so as to cause an explosion, by which he was so severely burnt that his life was despaired of. At length he was able to remove from his mother’s house at Woburn, to which he had been carried after the accident, and resume his employment at Salem. The renewed attempts of the mother country, however, to impose taxes on the colonies, followed as they were by the resolution of the merchants in the colonies not to import any of the products of the mother country, produced such a stagnation of trade in Salem, as at other towns, that Mr. Appleby, having no occasion for the further services of a clerk, was glad to give young Thompson up his indentures, and allow him to return to Woburn.

This happened apparently in 1767 or 1768; and for a year or two afterwards, Thompson’s course of life seems to have been wavering and undecided. In the winter of 1769 he taught a school at Wilmington; and some time in the same year he seems to have thoughts of pursuing the medical profession, for which purpose he placed himself under Dr. Hay, a physician in Woburn, and entered zealously upon the study of anatomy and physiology. While with Dr. Hay, he is said to have exhibited greater fondness for the mechanical than for other parts of the profession, and to have amused himself by making surgical instruments. How long Thompson pursued his medical studies is uncertain; in 1770, however, we find him resuming his mercantile avocations, in the capacity of a clerk in a dry-goods store at Boston, kept by a Mr. Capen. He was in Boston during the famous riots which took place on the attempt to land a cargo of tea from a British vessel contrary to the resolution of the colonists against admitting British goods. Mr. Capen’s business seems to have declined in the critical circumstances of the colony, as Mr. Appleby’s had formerly done; and Thompson was again obliged to return to Woburn. During the summer of 1770, he attended, in company with his friend Baldwin, a course of lectures on experimental philosophy delivered in Harvard College; and at no time of his life does he seem to have been so busily intent upon the acquisition of knowledge. Besides attending the lectures of the professor, he instituted experiments of his own of various kinds, some of which were the germs of valuable conclusions which he published in after-life. In particular, we may mention a course of experiments which he began for ascertaining and measuring the projectile force of gunpowder.

Thompson, though still only in his seventeenth year, had acquired that degree and kind of reputation which it is usual for youths of his stamp to obtain among intelligent acquaintances; and late in 1770, he was invited by Colonel Timothy Walker, one of the most important residents in the thriving village of Rumford, now Concord, in New Hampshire, to take charge of an academy in that place. Accepting the invitation, Thompson, says his American biographer, Dr. Renwick, ‘found himself caressed and welcomed by a society not wanting in refinement or pretensions to fashion. His grace and personal advantages, which afterwards gained him access to the proudest circles of Europe, were already developed. His stature of nearly six feet, his erect figure, his finely-formed limbs, his bright blue eyes, his features chiseled in the Roman mould, and his dark auburn hair, rendered him a model of manly beauty. He acquired an address in the highest degree prepossessing; and at the counter of the Boston retailer, had learnt, from its fashionable customers, the polish of manner and dialect which obliterates all peculiarities that are provincial, and many of those that are national. He possessed solid acquirements far beyond the standard of the day, and had attained already the last and highest requisite for society—​that of conversing with ease, and in a pure language, upon all the subjects with a knowledge of which his mind was stored. In addition, he possessed the most fascinating of all accomplishments, for he had a fine voice; and although far from a proficient in music as a science, sang with taste, and performed on several instruments.’ With such advantages the young schoolmaster appears to have made an impression on not a few female hearts in the country village where he shone; on none, however, so decidedly as on that of Mrs. Rolfe, a colonel’s widow, possessed of what was then considered a large fortune, and although considerably older than himself, still young and handsome enough, according to his biographer, ‘to render it probable that a feeling more creditable than one arising from interested motives led him to seek her hand.’ However this may be, the affair was soon brought to a happy conclusion. On giving out his vacation for the year 1772, the young schoolmaster stepped into the widow’s carriage and then drove together to Boston, where he fitted himself with a dress in the extreme of fashion of the day, scarlet being then a favorite color. Clad anew from top to toe, he reëntered the equipage, which whirled away towards Woburn. The astonishment of the villagers at seeing their young townsman in such a guise, and in such company, was past description. ‘Why, Ben, my child,’ said his mother, gazing at his splendid outfit as he dismounted at the door, ‘how could you spend your whole winter’s earnings in this way?’ In the presence of his fair companion the youth could hardly explain, and he was obliged to employ a friend to break the subject of his intended marriage to his mother. No objections were offered on her part, although she took twenty-four hours to deliberate on the matter; and the happy pair drove back to Rumford, where the wedding was forthwith celebrated, the bridegroom being then in his twentieth year.

After his marriage, Thompson took his place as one of the wealthiest inhabitants of the district in which he resided, and mixed in the best society which the colony afforded. It was not long before he made the acquaintance of his Excellency John Wentworth, the governor of the colony, who, anxious, no doubt, in the critical circumstances in which the American dependencies of Great Britain were then placed, to attach to the party which sided with the mother country as many influential colonists as he was able, lost no time in endeavoring to gain over so promising a man as Thompson. A vacancy having occurred in a regiment of the New Hampshire militia, Governor Wentworth gave the commission, which was that of major, to his new friend: an act of attention which, while it seems to have been gratifying to Thompson, did not fail to procure him much ill-will from the officers already in the service, over whose heads he had been promoted. From this period Thompson began to be unpopular in his native province. He was represented as a friend of Great Britain, and an enemy to the interests of the colonies; and this charge was the more readily believed, on account of the marked kindness with which he continued to be treated by the governor, and the indifference which he exhibited to those political questions which were agitating all around him. The truth seems to be, that not only was Thompson, as a man in comfortable circumstances, and fond of the consideration and opportunities of enjoyment which they afforded him, averse to any disturbance, such as a war between the colonies and the mother country would cause, but that his constitution and temperament, his liking for calm intellectual pursuits, disqualified him from taking part in political agitation. Many men who have distinguished themselves in literature and science have, as a matter of principle, kept themselves aloof from the controversies and political dissensions of their time, alleging that, however important such questions might be, it was not in discussing them that their powers could be employed to most advantage. In the case of Thompson, however, who as yet had not begun to lay claim to the character of a man devoted to scientific pursuits, his countrymen thought, not altogether unreasonably, that they had grounds of complaint. What employment was he engaged in, that he ought to be exempted from the duty of a citizen—​that of taking an interest in public affairs? So, probably, the most candid and considerate of the American patriots reasoned; and as for the great mass of the populace, they condemned him in the usual summary manner in which the public judges. Not a name was more detested in Massachusetts than that of Benjamin Thompson. He was denounced as a sycophant of the British—​a traitor to the interests of the colonies—​an enemy of liberty. To such a length did the public hatred of him proceed, that at length, in the month of November 1774, the mob of Concord had resolved to inflict on him the punishment which several other unpopular persons had already experienced—​that of being tarred and feathered in the open streets. Receiving intelligence of the design of the mob before it could be carried into execution, Thompson had no alternative but to withdraw from Concord to some other part of the provinces where political excitement did not run so high. Accordingly, he quitted his wife and an infant daughter, who had been born in the previous year, and took refuge first in his native town of Woburn, from which he afterwards removed to Charleston. From Charleston, after a few months residence, he went to Boston, which was then garrisoned by a British army commanded by General Gage.

Thompson was well received by General Gage and the officers of the British army; and his intercourse with them, while it probably gave him a stronger bias towards the side of the mother country than he had yet exhibited, did not contribute to remove the bad opinion his countrymen had formed of his patriotism. Having returned in the spring of 1775, to his native town of Woburn, where he was joined by his wife and daughter, he again ran the risk of being tarred and feathered. The mob surrounded the house where he resided early one morning, armed with guns and sticks, and but for the interference of his old friend Loammi Baldwin, who arrived at the spot in time to use his influence with the crowd, serious consequences might have ensued.

The commencement of open hostilities between the colonists and the British troops in May 1775, made Thompson’s position still more critical. As a major in the militia of the province, he would probably have acted on the side of the patriots, obeying the orders of the Provincial Congress, which had superseded the old government; but the odium attached to his name was such, that his very zeal on the patriotic side would have been misrepresented. In order, therefore, to clear himself of all suspicion, and that he might thenceforth live on good terms with his countrymen, he demanded a trial before the Committee of Correspondence established at Woburn by authority of the new power. The trial was granted: he was put under arrest; and an advertisement was inserted in the newspapers for all who had charges to prefer against his patriotism to come forward. Besides the general allegation of his being a Tory, and a friend and correspondent of Governor Wentworth and General Gage, the only charge made against him on his trial was, that he had been instrumental in sending back to their colors two British deserters, having procured their pardon from General Gage during his residence in Boston. This, which ought properly to have been regarded as a mere act of mercy, was construed in a less favorable manner by Thompson’s judges; and although, on the conclusion of his trial, the court declared that he had done nothing which could legally be considered as a crime, he was set at liberty without the satisfaction of a full and formal acquittal. Against this treatment he protested in the strongest manner, insisting that he should either be punished as guilty, or declared innocent; but his protests were unheeded.

With a view, apparently, to convince his countrymen of his patriotism by actual service, or possibly because he could enjoy more quiet in the army than the ill-will of his fellow-citizens would allow him in his own house, Thompson, as soon as his trial was over, joined a detachment of the troops of Congress stationed at Chelsea. ‘In the hopes of obtaining a commission,’ says his biographer, ‘he paid great attention to tactics, and assisted at the drills of the yet undisciplined forces. He also took up the study of fortification, which he pursued with his usual ardor. Towards the close, however, of the summer of 1775, his position had become irksome, and even dangerous. Suspicions, which it seemed impossible to allay, shut against him all access to military rank in the continental army. He now could not go from place to place within the lines of the army, without being pointed at as the famous Tory Thompson; and though military discipline sheltered him from actual violence, he was exposed to insults that a man of spirit could not brook, and which his position prevented him from resenting. If thus treated within the army, he might infer what awaited him when he should emerge from the out-posts of the camp.’ In these circumstances, he came to the desperate resolution of leaving his native country. ‘I cannot any longer,’ he writes to his father-in-law on the 14th of August 1775, ‘bear the insults that are daily offered to me. I cannot bear to be looked upon and treated as the Achan of society. I have done nothing that can deserve this cruel usage. And notwithstanding I have the tenderest regard for my wife and family, and really believe I have an equal return of love and affection from them, though I feel the keenest distress at the thoughts of what Mrs. Thompson and my parents and friends will suffer on my account, and though I foresee and realize the distress, poverty, and wretchedness that must attend my pilgrimage in unknown lands, destitute of fortune, friends, and acquaintances, yet all these evils appear to me more tolerable than the treatment which I meet with at the hands of my ungrateful countrymen.’

Two months after writing the above, he carried his resolution into effect. Paying off his debts, and converting some of his property into cash, with the expressed intention of removing to some of the southern states, where he might live in greater security, he set out from Cambridge, the headquarters of the American army, on the 10th of October 1775, accompanied by his half-brother, Josiah Pierce, who took leave of him at the nearest post-town. ‘From that hour,’ says his biographer, ‘until the close of the revolutionary struggle, his friends and relatives were without any positive tidings of his fate.’ From accounts afterwards received, it appeared that he had reached Newport on the 11th of October, apparently undecided as to his future movements; that there finding a boat belonging to the British frigate Scarborough, he went on board that vessel, and was afterwards landed at Boston, which his friend General Gage, as commander of the British garrison, was at that time maintaining against the American forces. Here he remained under the protection of the British till the evacuation of the town in March 1776, when he again embarked on board the Scarborough, and set sail for England, the bearer of despatches from General Gage to Lord George Germain, the British secretary of state for colonial affairs. Thus had he fairly renounced all connexion with his native country, and gone to push his fortunes in the old world.

Arriving in England, as he did, the bearer of gloomy despatches, and sustaining the equivocal character of a deserter from the American cause, Thompson soon proved that he was a man who could command his fortune anywhere. The capacity in which he had come over introduced him to various public men, who could not fail to be struck by his abilities, as well as charmed by his manner; and the consequence was, that in a short time after his arrival he was offered a post in the colonial office. Probably the minister was of opinion that none of all the American refugees, who then swarmed in London, was able to render such assistance as Thompson in conducting the department over which he presided.

Of whatever nature were the services which Thompson rendered to the public business, they must have been of considerable value; for in 1780, four years after his arrival in England, he was raised by his patron, Lord Germain, to the post of under-secretary of state for the colonies; an instance of promotion which, considering the circumstances in which the subject of it stood, is almost unexampled. The usual accompaniment of such a situation was, and is, a seat in parliament; and according to the practice of those days, when noblemen had seats in the House of Commons at their disposal, Lord Germain, if he had so chosen, might have conferred a seat on his American protege; but it was probably imagined that the admission into parliament of a man so unpopular in America would be attended with disadvantages, and that, at all events, Thompson’s talents were better fitted for the desk than the senate. The income and consequence, however, which he derived from his office, gave him admission to the highest metropolitan circles; and he had thus opportunities not only of becoming known, but also of exercising his inventive mind in many pursuits not immediately connected with his official duties. Fertility—​a disposition to propose improvements in all departments—​seems to have been his most striking characteristic; and it was probably this ready genius for practical reforms in everything which came under his notice, that recommended him so much to public men. A man who, in his general intercourse with society, can drop valuable suggestions, allowing others to grasp at them, and enjoy the credit of carrying them into effect, is likely to be a favorite. Thompson appears to have been such a man—​a person who, holding no ostensible post but that of under-secretary for the colonies, could yet, out of the richness of an ever-inventive mind, scatter hints which would be thankfully received by men of all professions.

While concerning himself generally, however, in a variety of matters, Thompson was at the same time following out certain specific lines of scientific investigation. ‘As early as 1777,’ says his biographer, ‘he made some curious and interesting experiments on the strength of solid bodies. These were never published, and would probably have been superseded by more full investigations made by subsequent experiments. In 1778, he employed himself in experiments on the strength of gunpowder, and the velocity of military projectiles, and these were followed by a cruise of some months in the channel fleet, where he proposed to repeat his investigations on a larger scale.’ On this subject Thompson communicated several papers to the ‘Philosophical Transactions’ of the Royal Society, of which he had become a member. Passing over these scientific lucubrations, we hasten to reach that period of Rumford’s life at which he found himself in a situation to give full scope to his genius for improvements.

As the war between great Britain and the colonies proceeded, it became evident that the latter must triumph. The anti-American party in Great Britain lost ground; and on the news of the capitulation of Lord Cornwallis reaching England, a division took place in the cabinet, and Lord George Germain found it necessary to resign office. As his policy, however, in American affairs, had been agreeable to the wishes of George III, he retired with the honors of a peerage, and was able still to forward the interests of his friends. Not the least distinguished of these was Under-Secretary Thompson, who, whether he had cooperated with his principal in all his measures and views, or whether, ‘according to his own statement afterwards to Cuvier, he was disgusted at Lord Germain’s want of judgment,’ had at least done a sufficient amount of work to deserve a parting token of regard. Accordingly, by the influence of the fallen minister, Thompson was sent out to New York, in the year 1781, with the royal commission of major, which was afterwards changed for that of lieutenant-colonel, charged with the task of organizing an efficient regiment of dragoons out of the broken and disjointed native cavalry regiments which had been fighting on the royalist side. What were to be the specific uses of this force are now uncertain. The regiment, fortunately, was of no avail.

Peace having been concluded between the United States and Great Britain, Colonel Thompson, shortly after his return obtained leave of absence in order that he might travel on the continent.

Passing through France on his way to Vienna he had reached Strasburg on the German frontier, when an incident occurred which changed his prospects and gave a direction to his life different from what he intended, or could have anticipated. A review of the garrison of Strasburg being held, he presented himself on the field as a spectator, ‘mounted on a superb English horse, and in the full uniform of his rank as a colonel of dragoons. The French officers were eager to make the acquaintance of a conspicuous stranger, the more so that his attendance at a review of French troops in full English uniform was regarded as an act of courtesy which deserved a return. Among those who entered into conversation with him was Prince Maximilian, nephew and presumptive heir of the Elector of Bavaria, and who had served as the commander of a French regiment in the American war. So agreeable was the impression which Thompson made on the prince, that on learning his circumstances and intentions, the later offered him an introduction to his uncle the Bavarian elector, in case he should be inclined to alter his design of proceeding to Vienna, and make trial of the Bavarian service. The proposal pleased Thompson, and, furnished with the prince’s letter of introduction, he set out for Munich. Wherever he went he seems to have had the art, almost in spite of himself, of conciliating favor; and on his very first audience with the Elector of Bavaria, he was offered an important situation at court. Still clinging, however, to his resolution to visit Vienna, he did not accept the offer; but after spending some time at Munich, during which the elector’s esteem for him increased more and more, he set out for the Austrian capital. The elector, however, continued to send him pressing invitations to enter his service; and learning at Vienna that the Turkish war was likely to be brought to a speedy conclusion, Colonel Thompson at length promised that, provided he could obtain the consent of his British majesty, he would take up his residence at Munich. Proceeding to London, in order to obtain the consent which was required, he was received with great kindness by George III, who conferred on him the honor of knighthood, and gave him permission, while resigning the command of his regiment, to retain the title of lieutenant-colonel, and the half-pay attached to it.

In the close of the year 1784, Sir Benjamin Thompson took up his residence in Munich, filling the posts of aid-de-camp and chamberlain to the elector, thus connected both with the military and civil service. Charles Theodore, the ruling prince of Bavaria, was a man of enlightened mind, whose ambition was to elevate the state over which he reigned to a high rank among the various members of the German confederacy. The aristocracy of Bavaria itself not furnishing men of sufficient liberality of view to coöperate with him in his designs of improvement, and the prejudices of the court preventing him from employing able men from among the people, even had there been any such qualified for his purpose, he had judiciously resolved to employ foreign talent in the difficult work of reforming his dominions. The capacity, therefore, in which Sir Benjamin Thompson took up his residence in Munich was that of a man who, unconnected by ties of blood or interest with the people of Bavaria, and furnished only with general ideas applicable to all times and places, was to make it his business, under the auspices of the elector, to take a general survey of the condition of Bavaria, with a view to rectify as much as possible of what was wrong in it. A more noble or responsible situation can scarcely be conceived; and the dignity and responsibility will appear all the greater, when we reflect that the government of Bavaria, being, in its nature despotic, the powers of a man in Thompson’s position—​that, namely, of virtual though not ostensible prime minister—​were almost unlimited, seeing that there were no constitutional forms, and nothing but the absolute will of the elector, to check or thwart his proceedings.

Another circumstance which rendered the situation of Sir Benjamin Thompson a peculiarly interesting one, was the position of Bavaria at the time. ‘Most of those,’ says Cuvier, ‘who are called to power by adventitious circumstances, are led astray by the opinion of the vulgar. They know that they will infallibly be called men of genius, and be celebrated in prose and verse, if they succeed in changing the forms of government, or in extending the territory of their sovereign but a few additional leagues.’ Happily for Count Rumford, Bavaria at this period had no such temptations for her ministers. Her constitution was fixed by the laws of the empire, and her frontiers defined by the more powerful states who were her neighbors. She was, in short, reduced to that condition which most states consider so hard a one—​namely, to have her whole attention confined to the sole object of ameliorating the fortune of her people. The whole attention of Sir Benjamin Thompson, therefore, was necessarily to be concentrated on the internal condition of Bavaria—​a country about the size of Scotland, but considerably more populous.

The first subject which occupied the attention of the American-born prime minister of Bavaria was the condition of the army. There were three reasons for this early consideration of the state of the army. In the first place, the condition of the continent of Europe at the time rendered the state of the defensive force a matter of extreme importance to so critically situated a state as Bavaria; in the second place, Thompson’s own tastes inclined him to take an interest in military matters; and lastly, in a despotic state, where a little physical force might be necessary to compel the people to adopt good sanitary or other regulations, the army was the natural instrument to be employed in all such reforms, and to render this instrument efficient was but to begin at the right end.

Omitting all the miscellaneous improvements of a minor or mechanical nature which were effected by Thompson in matters connected with military service—​as, for instance, in the construction of cannon, in the uniform of the soldiers, their drill, &c.—​let us attend to the moral principle which ruled all his proceedings with regard to the organization of the army. ‘I have endeavored,’ he says, ‘in all my operations, to unite the interest of the soldier with the interest of civil society, and to render the military force even in time of peace, subservient to the public good. To facilitate and promote these important objects, to establish a respectable standing army, which should do the least possible harm to the population, morals, manufactures, and agriculture of the country, it was necessary to make soldiers citizens, and citizens soldiers.’ To this principle, or at least to the precise form in which it is here stated, different persons will make different objections, according as their sympathies are civil or military; but Rumford’s general view, that soldiers should be treated as men, cannot be excepted against. The army being essentially the offspring of an age of physical force, it is certainly difficult to organize it conformably to the spirit of an age which repudiates physical force. To do this—​in other words, to make the army, as such, a moral agent—​is impossible; but it is quite possible to render a large general culture, and much individual freedom, compatible with strict discipline; and at all events, the modern maxim is, that the army is a part of society, employed, it is true, in services of a peculiar nature, which require a peculiar organization, but not on that account cut off from the general mass of the community. Such was the maxim of the Bavarian minister. Besides what he did to increase the physical comfort of the soldier by superior food, clothing and accomodation, he adopted means for the intellectual and moral improvement of all connected with the military service. ‘Schools were established in all the regiments for instructing the soldiers and their children in reading, writing, and arithmetic. Besides these schools of instruction, others, called Schools of Industry, were established in the regiments, where the soldiers and their children were taught various kinds of work, and from whence they were supplied with raw materials to work for their own emolument.

As nothing is so certainly fatal to morals as habitual idleness, every possible means was adopted that could be devised to introduce a spirit of industry among the troops. Every encouragement was given to the soldiers to employ their leisure time when they were off duty in working for their own emolument; and among other encouragements, the most efficacious of all, that of allowing them full liberty to dispose of the money acquired by their labor in any way they should think proper, without being obliged to give any account of it to anybody.’ Besides working at their various trades for such as chose to employ them, the soldiers were employed as laborers ‘in all public works, such as making and repairing highways, draining marshes, repairing the banks of rivers, &c.; and in all such cases the greatest care was taken to provide for their comfortable subsistence, and even for their amusement. To preserve good order and harmony among those who were detached upon these working parties, a certain proportion of officers and non-commissioned officers were always sent with them, and these commonly served as overseers of the works, and as such were paid.’

The particular plan, however, which enabled Thompson, while he was improving the personal condition of the soldier, and turning the peace establishment to greater account than before for the general good of the country, at the same time to diminish greatly the expense of its support, was that of permanent garrisons. The whole army was distributed through the various cities of the electorate, each city being garrisoned by troops drawn from the surrounding district. This plan possessed many advantages. ‘A peasant would more readily consent to his son engaging himself to serve as a soldier in a regiment permanently stationed in his neighborhood, than in one at a great distance, or whose destination was uncertain; and when the station of a regiment is permanent, and it receives its recruits from the district of country immediately surrounding its head-quarters, the men who go home on furlough have but a short journey to make, and are easily assembled in case of emergency.’ Every encouragement was given to all who could be spared from garrison duty to go home on furlough; an arrangement which was both agreeable to the men—​who, during their absence, might be cultivating their little family farms, or otherwise employing themselves at any trade—​and economical for the state, because, while the men were on furlough, they received no pay, but only their rations. Thus, while in every garrison town there remained a sufficient nucleus of men to do garrison-duty, and who, while receiving full military pay, were at liberty to earn additional money during their leisure time by extra work, the greater part of the army were distributed through the community, pursuing the ordinary occupations of citizens, but ready to assemble at a few hours’ notice, and bound to be in the field at least six weeks every year. The assumed necessity for such a state of military preparation gives one a striking idea of the condition of the continent at this epoch.

Not content with the mere negative achievement of organizing the army, so that ‘it should do the least possible harm,’ Thompson endeavored to make it an instrument of positive good. His plan of permanent garrisons and easy furloughs, by establishing a constant flux of men to and from a centre, suggested the somewhat novel idea of making the army the medium for spreading useful improvements of all kinds through the country. Supposing, for instance, that pains were taken to teach the soldiers in garrison any useful art not then known in Bavaria, but which might be naturalized there, it is obvious that when these men were distributed over the country on furloughs, they would carry with them not only their own superior industrial habits, but the art itself. The improvement of Bavarian agriculture by this means was one of Thompson’s most anxious wishes. Very few of the recent improvements in that art, he says, such as the cultivation of clover and turnips, the regular succession of crops, &c., had then found their way into general practice; and, above all, the potato was almost unknown in Bavaria. With a view to introduce a better system of agriculture, and especially with a view to naturalize the potato among the Bavarians, Thompson devised the system of military gardens—​that is, ‘pieces of ground in or adjoining to the garrison towns, which were regularly laid out, and exclusively appropriated to the use of the non-commissioned officers and private soldiers belonging to the regiments in garrison.’ In these gardens every private soldier was assigned a piece of ground, about three hundred and sixty-five square feet in extent. This piece of ground was to remain the sole property of that soldier as long as he served in the regiment: he was to be at liberty to cultivate it in any way, and to dispose of the produce in any way he chose; if, however, he did not choose to work in it, but wished rather to spend his pay in idleness, he might do so; but in that case the piece of ground was to be taken from him, and so also if he neglected it. Every means was used to attach the soldiers to their garden labor: seeds and manure were furnished them at a cheap rate; whatever instruction was necessary, was given them; and little huts or summer-houses were erected in the gardens, to afford them shelter when it rained. ‘The effect of the plan,’ says Rumford, ‘was greater and more important than I could have expected. The soldiers, from being the most indolent of mortals, and from having very little knowledge of gardening, became industrious and skillful cultivators, and grew so fond of vegetables, particularly potatoes, that these useful and wholesome productions began to constitute a very essential part of their daily food. These improvements began also to spread among the farmers and peasants throughout the whole country. There was hardly a soldier that went on furlough that did not carry with him a few potatoes for planting, and a little collection of garden seeds; and I have already had the satisfaction to see little gardens here and there making their appearance in different parts of the country.’

After reforming the army, the next subject which occupied the attention of the Bavarian statesman was one of universal and perpetual interest—​the condition of the poor. In order, however, not to be interrupted in our narrative of his measures for the relief of the poor of Bavaria, we shall note a few of the principal events in his personal history during the period of his residence in that country. In 1784, when he commenced his residence in Bavaria, he was thirty-one years of age. The titles which were then conferred on him were, as we have already informed our readers, those of aid-de-camp and chamberlain. Soon afterwards, however, he received the appointments of member of the council of state, and major-general in the army; the elector at the same time procuring him the decorations of two orders of Polish knighthood, in lieu of the Bavarian order, which the rules of German knighthood prevented him from bestowing. The scientific part of the community also showed their esteem for him by electing him a member of the academies of Munich and Manheim. All this took place not long after Thompson had settled in Munich. Every year of his subsequent stay brought him fresh honors. In 1787, when on a visit to Prussia, he was chosen a member of the Academy of Sciences at Berlin; in Bavaria, to follow the list of dignities given by his American biographer, ‘he attained the military rank of lieutenant-general, was commander-in-chief of the general staff, minister of war, and superintendent of the police of the electorate; he was for a short time chief of the regency that exercised sovereignty during the absence of the elector; and in the interval between the death of the Emperor Joseph and the coronation of his successor Leopold, the elector becoming vicar of the empire, availed himself of the prerogatives of that office to make him a Count of the Holy Roman Empire.’ When this last dignity was conferred on him, Thompson chose the title of Count of Rumford, in memory of the American village where he had once officiated in the humble capacity of schoolmaster. Although it was not till the year 1790, that this title was bestowed on him and the measures we are about to detail were for the most part matured before that time, we shall consult our convenience by henceforth calling him Count Rumford.

The condition of the poor, and the mode of treating them, are questions which every country on earth must incessantly be occupied with; but in few countries, probably, was the necessity of coming to some decided practical conclusion on the subject more glaring, more imperious, than in Bavaria at the time when Count Rumford undertook the social survey of that state. Beggary had there become an enormous and apparently ineradicable evil—​a weed overgrowing the whole field. The beggars almost ate up the industrious part of the community. ‘The number of itinerant beggars of both sexes and all ages, as well foreigners as natives, who strolled about the country in all directions, levying contributions upon the industrious inhabitants, stealing and robbing, and leading a life of indolence and the most shameless debauchery, was quite incredible; and so numerous were the swarms of beggars in all the great towns, and particularly in the capital, so great their impudence, and so perserving their importunity, that it was almost impossible to cross the streets without being attacked, and absolutely forced to satisfy their clamorous demands. They not only infested all the streets, public walks, and public places, but they even made a practice of going into private houses; and the churches were so full of them, that people at their devotions were continually interrupted by them, and were frequently obliged to satisfy their demands in order to be permitted to finish their prayers in peace and quiet. In short, these detestable vermin swarmed everywhere; and not only their impudence and clamorous importunity were without any bounds, but they had recourse to the most diabolical arts and most horrid crimes in prosecution of their trade. The growing number of the beggars, and their success, gave a kind of eclat to their profession; and the habit of begging became so general, that it ceased to be considered as infamous, and was by degrees in a manner interwoven with the internal regulations of society. Herdsmen and shepherds who attended their flocks by the roadside, were known to derive considerable advantage from the contributions which their situation enabled them to levy from passengers; and I have been assured that the wages they received from their employers were often regulated accordingly. The children in every country village, and those even of the best farmers, made a constant practice of begging from all strangers who passed; and one hardly ever met a person on foot upon the road, particularly a woman, who did not hold out her hand and ask for charity.’

Count Rumford determined to grapple with this enormous evil, and, if possible, suppress mendicancy in Bavaria. His sagacity and general knowledge of mankind taught him to believe the achievement practicable, and he had already paved the way by his reform of the army. Other preliminaries, however, were necessary; and assisted by the genius of the government of Bavaria, where a sudden stroke of benevolent despotism was more in keeping than it would be elsewhere, he resolved first thoroughly to mature his scheme, and then to pounce upon the beggars when he was prepared to receive them. Although he knew that the people of Bavaria would gladly accept any measure which would relieve them from the dreadful scourge which they had so long borne, yet as so many schemes previously proposed had failed, he resolved to carry his plan into successful execution before he asked a farthing from the people in support of it. The elector’s treasury was accordingly drawn upon for the amount of money necessary in advance.

Munich was to be the scene of his first experiment. And first of all, a building was necessary to receive the beggars when they should be apprehended. A suitable edifice was found situated in the Au, one of the suburbs of Munich. ‘It had formerly been a manufactory, but for many years had been deserted, and falling to ruins. It was now completely repaired, and in part rebuilt. A large kitchen, with a large eating-room adjoining it, and a commodious bakehouse, were added to the buildings; and workshops for carpenters, smiths, turners, and such other mechanics, were established, and furnished with tools. Large halls were fitted up for spinners of hemp, for spinners of flax, for spinners of cotton, for spinners of wool, and for spinners of worsted; and adjoining to each hall a small room was fitted up for a clerk or inspector of the hall. Halls were likewise fitted up for weavers of woolens, weavers of serges and shalloons, for linen weavers, for weavers of cotton goods, and for stocking-weavers; and workshops were provided for clothiers, clothshearers, dyers, saddlers; besides rooms for wool-sorters, wool-carders, wool-combers, knitters, seamstresses, etc. Magazines were fitted up, as well for finished manufactures, as for raw materials, and rooms for counting-houses; storerooms for the kitchen and bakehouse; and dwelling-rooms for the inspectors, and other officers. The whole edifice, which was very extensive, was fitted up in the neatest manner possible. In doing this, even the external appearance of the building was attended to. It was handsomely painted without as well as within; and pains were taken to give it an air of elegance, as well as of neatness and cleanliness.’

All these preparations having been made apparently without exciting any special degree of public curiosity, New-Year’s Day of the year 1790 was chosen for the grand stroke, that being a day when Munich was sure to be unusually full of Beggars. The military was posted through the streets, so as to command the whole town, and the neighboring country was occupied by patrols of cavalry. In the mean time, having assembled at his own residence the magistrates of Munich, and a number of military officers and citizens of rank and dignity, Count Rumford expounded to them his scheme, and requested them to accompany him into the streets where the most difficult part of the work, that of arresting the beggars, was to commence. ‘We had hardly got into the street,’ says Rumford in his narrative of the proceedings, ‘when we were accosted by a beggar, who asked us for alms. I went up to him, and laying my hand gently upon his shoulder, told him that from thenceforward begging would not be permitted in Munich; that if he really stood in need of assistance (which would be immediately inquired into), the necessary assistance should certainly be given him; but that begging was forbidden, and if he was detected in it again, he would be severely punished. I then delivered him over to an orderly-sergeant, who was following me, with directions to conduct him to the Town-Hall, and deliver him into the hands of those he should find there to receive him. Then turning to the officers and magistrates who accompanied me, I begged they would take notice that I had myself, with my own hands, arrested the first beggar we had met; and I requested them not only to follow my example themselves, by arresting all the beggars they should meet with, but that they should also endeavor to persuade others, and particularly the officers and soldiers of the garrison, that it was by no means derogatory to their character, or in any way disgraceful to them, to assist in so useful and laudable an undertaking. These gentlemen having cheerfully and unanimously promised to do their utmost to second me in this business, dispersed into the different parts of the town, and, with the assistance of the military, the town was so thoroughly cleared of beggars in less than an hour, that not one was to be found in the streets.’

The beggars being all taken to the Town-Hall, their names were written down, and they were dismissed to their own homes, with directions to repair next day to the ‘Military Workhouse,’ as the new establishment was called, in consequence of its being fitted out with money from the military chest, and destined chiefly to supply the army with clothing etc. Here they were told they would find comfortable warm rooms, a good warm dinner every day, and work for such as were able to labor, with good wages, which should be regularly paid. They might, or might not come, just as they chose, but at all events they were not to beg any more; and if they appeared in the streets, they should be apprehended. The circumstances of them all, they were told, were immediately to be inquired into, and relief granted to such as required it.

The plan met with immediate success. On the next day a great number of the beggars attended at the Military Workhouse; the rest hid themselves; and so rigorous and effective were the measures adopted to apprehend mendicants, that after trying in vain to renew their old practices, these too were obliged at length to yield. The experiment having succeeded so far, it was judged advisable to appeal to the public for their support; and a paper was accordingly drawn up by Professor Babo of Munich, urging the citizens to do their utmost to rid themselves of the scourge of mendicancy, by coöperating in the new scheme. In this paper allusion is made to a practice of the beggars, which may be here mentioned, as a proof of the deplorable viciousness of the whole system. The beggars of Munich, it appears, drove a lucrative trade in communion and confessional certificates, which they obtained from the clergy by attending twice or thrice a-day at the holy sacrament, and at confession, and afterwards sold to such of the citizens as were averse to church-going, and yet desirous of avoiding the inconveniences which neglect of religious observances entailed in a place where the Roman Catholic clergy had so much power.

Professor Babo’s address having been circulated, with an outline of Count Rumford’s scheme, the citizens of Munich gladly agreed to contribute, to enable the project to be fairly carried out; and indeed, accustomed as they had been to meet the incessant demands of the beggars by as incessant giving, they saw in the new plan not only an immediate moral relief, but a prospect of pecuniary saving. Rumford’s principle was, to depend entirely upon the voluntary contributions of the charitable. The city was divided into sixteen districts; the names of all the inhabitants of each district who were willing to subscribe were taken down, with a note of the sum each volunteered to contribute. This sum might be altered at the pleasure of the subscriber—​increased, diminished, or even altogether retracted. The sums were to be collected regularly on the last Sunday of every month, by an officer who was to go round on purpose among the subscribers of each district. Arrangements were also made for the receipt of miscellaneous donations, both large and small; and every possible means was adopted to beget a public confidence in the administration of the fund collected, by making the publication of all accounts imperative.

Two distinct things had now been accomplished by Count Rumford—​he had established a workhouse, and he had secured a fund for the relief of the poor. Although the two objects were mixed up together at the commencement, and are of necessity included under the general descriptive head of the ‘Suppression of Mendicancy,’ they ought not to be confounded. In seizing upon the beggars, Count Rumford had adopted the most practicable means for arriving at a very desirable end—​the discrimination of the merely idle from the really necessitous. To classify these two sorts of persons was his first object. When this was done, his work then divided itself into two parts—​the reclaiming of the idle to habits of industry, and the relief of the really necessitous. The modes of operation for the one and for the other were expressly kept independent; indeed it was one of Rumford’s most careful provisions that the workhouse should not wear the aspect of an institution supported by charity. We shall describe first the progress of the workhouse by which Rumford meant to suppress idleness, and then the means which he employed for relieving the distress which still remained.

Before the opening of the Military Workhouse, it had been fitted up with looms, spinning-machines, &c., as well as furnished with raw materials, especially hemp, the spinning of which is easily learnt. During the first week 2600 mendicants, of both sexes, and various ages, entered the establishment. ‘For the first three or four days,’ says Rumford, ‘it was not possible entirely to prevent confusion. There was nothing like mutinous resistance among the poor people; but their situation was so new to them, and they were so very awkward in it, that it was difficult to bring them into any tolerable order. At length, however, by distributing them among the various halls, and assigning to each his particular place, they were brought into such order, as to enable the inspectors and instructors to begin their operations. Those who understood any kind of work were placed in the apartments where the work they understood was carried on; and the others being classed according to their sexes, and as much as possible according to their ages, were placed under the immediate care of the different instructors.’

Every care was taken to promote the comfort of the people while at work, and to render their work agreeable to them. It being winter, the rooms were well warmed by fires kept regularly burning; the whole establishment was swept twice every day; attention was paid to the ventilation; as far as elegance was possible in halls devoted to work, it was consulted; and the kindest usage was the order of the institution. The people arrived at the establishment at a fixed hour in the morning; they continued at work till the hour of dinner, when they repaired to the dining-hall, where they were furnished with a good dinner of white bread and fine rich soup; and after some hours of further work, they were dismissed, as from any other manufactory, and had all the rest of their time at their own disposal. Besides the dinner-hour, which was allowed as relaxation to all in the establishment, two additional hours, one in the morning, the other in the afternoon, were allowed to the children, during which they were assembled in one of the halls, and taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, by a master paid for the purpose; and as the regular hours of labor were not longer than in any other manufactory, neither they nor the adults were overworked. Lastly, every person in the establishment was regularly paid the wages fixed for the sort of labor he was employed in. The main feature of the scheme was, to impress upon those who attended the establishment that they were not necessarily paupers by their attendance there, but workmen entitled to the wages which they received. ‘The workhouse,’ says Rumford, ‘was merely a manufactory, like any other manufactory, supported by its own private capital, which capital has no connexion whatever with any fund destined for the poor.’ In order to keep this vividly before the workpeople, an inscription, in letters of gold, was placed over the main entrance of the establishment—​‘No alms will be received here.’

It is evident, however, considering the expenses of setting the establishment agoing, considering all the inducements which were held out at first to allure the people to it, especially that of paying them the ordinary rate of wages while they were yet wretchedly bad workmen, in order to keep up their courage—​it is evident, in these circumstances, that the institution must at first have been maintained at a loss. Although hemp was selected at first as the material for learners to begin with, as being cheap, yet such was the awkwardness of the beginners, that even in this material a considerable loss was sustained. ‘By an exact calculation, it was found,’ says Rumford, ‘that the manufactory actually lost more than three thousand florins upon the articles of hemp and flax during the first three months. But we were not discouraged by these unfavorable beginnings; and if the establishment was supported at some little expense in the beginning, it afterwards richly repaid the loss.’ By constant practice, the workmen became expert, so that not only hemp, but much more expensive materials, could be intrusted to them with safety; and in a short time it was no longer a mere benevolent pretense to treat them as men earning their wages by a fair amount of labor, for such became the fact. The bustle and activity of the establishment increased from year to year. In the sixth year of its existence the demand upon it for goods amounted to half a million of florins; and the net profits of the six years were calculated at one hundred thousand florins.

It will readily suggest itself to persons acquainted with the doctrines of political economy, that an objection might be raised to Count Rumford’s experiment, from a consideration of what may have been its effects upon the labor market. As all the articles manufactured in the Military Workhouse for the supply of the Bavarian army had formerly been manufactured by other persons, it is evident that the immediate effect of the establishment of the workhouse was to withdraw so much custom from those other persons, whoever they may have been. A moment’s consideration, however, of the state of Bavaria, will rob the consideration of whatever threatening look it may wear in the case which we are now concerned with. These persons, now supporting themselves by the labor of their own hands, had formerly been mendicants, living at the expense of the industrious portion of the community; and viewing the matter, therefore, in its pecuniary aspect alone, the question with the people of Munich was, whether they sustained a greater loss by admitting 2600 persons to be competitors with themselves in the labor market, or by supporting the same 2600 persons as mendicants. Add to this, the moral comfort of living in a town where not a beggar was to be seen, and the still more exquisite satisfaction of reflecting that a number of their fellow-creatures, formerly loathsome, vicious, and wretched, were now living in cleanliness, propriety, and happiness. On the merits of the institution in this point of view, hear the words of count Rumford himself. After alluding to the expertness which the members of the establishment acquired in the various manufactures, he proceeds—​‘But what was quite surprising, and at the same time interesting in the highest degree, was the apparent and rapid change which was produced in their manners. The kind usage they met with, and the comforts they enjoyed, seemed to have softened their hearts, and awakened in them sentiments as new and surprising to themselves as they were interesting to those about them. The melancholy gloom of misery, the air of uneasiness and embarrassment, disappeared by little and little from their countenances, and were succeeded by a timid dawn of cheerfulness, rendered most exquisitely interesting by a certain mixture of silent gratitude which no language can describe. In the infancy of this establishment, when these poor creatures were first brought together, I used very frequently to visit them, to speak kindly to them, and to encourage them; and I seldom passed through the halls where they were at work without being a witness to the most moving scenes. Objects formerly the most miserable and wretched, whom I had seen for years as beggars in the street; young women, perhaps the unhappy victims of seduction, who, having lost their reputation, and being turned adrift in the world without a friend and without a home, were reduced to the necessity of begging to sustain a miserable existence, now recognized me as their benefactor, and with tears dropping fast from their cheeks, continued their work in the most expressive silence. If they were asked what the matter was with them, their answer was, ‘Nichts’ [‘Nothing’], accompanied by a look of affectionate regard and gratitude so touching, as frequently to draw tears from the most insensible of the bystanders. Why should I not mention the marks of affectionate respect which I received from the poor people for whose happiness I interested myself? Will it be reckoned vanity if I mention the concern which the poor of Munich expressed in so affecting a manner when I was dangerously ill?—​that they went publicly in a body in procession to the cathedral church, where they had divine service performed, and put up public prayers for my recovery?—​that, four years afterwards, on hearing that I was again dangerously ill at Naples, they of their own accord set apart an hour each evening, after they had finished their work in the Military Workhouse, to pray for me; for me—​a private person—​a stranger—​a Protestant!’

Having thus described the procedure at the Military Workhouse—​which, although it was established with a philanthropic design, and had at first the aspect of a charitable institution, was in fact no such thing, but a mere commercial concern, yielding a profit on the capital invested in it—​we shall now briefly narrate Count Rumford’s plan of dealing with the pauperism of Munich—​with the real poverty and destitution which remained after all that could be effected by the Military Workhouse.

The entire management of the poor of Munich was put into the hands of a committee, consisting of four of the principal Bavarian ministers of state—​namely, the president of the council of war, the president of the council of regency, the president of the ecclesiastical council, and the president of the chamber of finances; and these four were to choose each a counselor of his own department to assist him. Neither the presidents nor the counselors were to be paid for their labors in this committee; and the secretary, clerks, and inferior officers required, were to be paid, not out of the fund for the poor, but immediately from the treasury. The mode of reaching the poor was as follows:—​The whole town, containing about 60,000 inhabitants, was divided into sixteen districts, the houses being all regularly numbered. In each district, a respectable citizen was chosen to be inspector of the poor within its limits. This inspector, whose services were to be purely voluntary, and unpaid, was to have for his assistants a priest, a physician, a surgeon, and an apothecary. The business of the inspector was to receive applications for relief, to inquire into the circumstances of the applicants, to furnish immediate assistance if it was required, and, where assistance might be delayed, to refer to the committee. Relief was granted, as might be required, in clothing, in medical aid, or in weekly sums of money; but in making the allowance, care was taken to find out how much the applicant was in a condition to earn. If he was able to work, work was provided for him, either at the Military Workhouse, or at home, to be delivered at the workhouse. The fact of his having been industrious, was certified by a government stamp affixed by the overseers of the workhouse every week to a slip of paper, on which also was marked the sum he had earned, and whatever was necessary for his support over and above this sum was granted. Those who could not work, were of course provided for. The funds out of which all the provisions were made consisted, as we have already said, of the voluntary contributions of the inhabitants. There were a few legacies for the poor; certain fines, also, went into the poor’s fund; but the great mass of the money required was collected statedly from the citizens in the manner described in a previous page, not by assessment, but by purely voluntary subscription. Besides donations in food and clothing, the sum collected in ready money during five years from the inhabitants of Munich was 200,000 florins, which was found amply sufficient for all purposes. It must be remembered, however, that the peculiar circumstances of the people of Munich, in having just been relieved from the scourge of mendicancy, made them more apt to fall into the habit of voluntary subscriptions than probably might be the case with the inhabitants of other towns not so circumstanced. Indeed the citizens of Munich effected a clear pecuniary saving by the change—​a saving amounting in all to more than two-thirds. This saving consisted of two items:—​First, an actual diminution of the mass of pauperism, numbers of those who formerly subsisted by charity being now able to support themselves either in whole or in part; and secondly, a retrenchment of all that waste which accompanies a private dispensation of charity, as compared with a system of general management, where, in consequence of the wholesale scale of operations, economy can be studied. The value of this second consideration will appear when we come to speak of Count Rumford’s devices for economising food and fuel.

It will now be seen how the Military Workhouse, and the system of management for the poor, worked into each other’s hands, although in principle totally independent of each other. No part of the Military Workhouse was under the control of the committee for the poor, except only the kitchen and bakehouse, which, as being supported out of the funds for the poor, were placed under their management.

Having thus described, at considerable length, Count Rumford’s measures for the suppression of mendicancy in Munich, it only remains to be added that our description is to be taken rather as a historical account of an interesting and apparently successful experiment, than as a thorough appreciation of its merits as a social scheme. To criticise all the details of Count Rumford’s plan, especially as a plan of universal application, would require much space, and would lead to controversy. It may be safely said, however, that while some parts of the scheme may be theoretically objectionable, and others may not be adapted for circumstances different from those in which they had their origin, the general features of the scheme are as sound as the spirit which prompted it was philanthropic.

PLANS FOR ECONOMISING FOOD AND FUEL.

As one of Count Rumford’s reasons for preferring a general system for the administration of charity was the superior economy which it admitted, especially in the articles of food and fuel, it is not to be wondered at that he turned his attention to a consideration of the subject of food and fuel itself. In doing so, he opened up a new field for the exercise of his practical genius. What is the cheapest way of feeding large bodies of men? and what is the most economical way of applying heat for the purposes of warmth, of cooking, and of manufactures? These are questions upon which Count Rumford occupied himself more zealously and more successfully than any one had done before him, or, probably, than any one has done since his time. With the former question he was engaged while yet resident in Bavaria—​one of his subsidiary schemes for the benefit of the poor there, and in other large towns, being the establishment of public kitchens and dining-rooms, where the poor, or indeed the laboring classes generally, might be supplied with better food at a cheaper rate than in their own houses. As the subject of cookery—​of the improvements which are possible in the mode of preparing food for the use of man, whether with respect to economy, or to the gratification of the palate, or to both—​is one to which scientific men have not yet applied themselves with sufficient zeal, we will note down such of Rumford’s conclusions on it as do not appear to be antiquated. The importance which Count Rumford himself attached to the subject will appear from his extraordinary saying, that ‘the number of inhabitants who may be supported in any country upon its internal produce, depends almost as much upon the state of its art of cookery as upon that of its agriculture.’

With regard to the materials of food, it needs only to be mentioned that Rumford, besides recommending in Bavaria a larger use of vegetables generally, advocated in a special manner the introduction of the potato, and of Indian corn—​the former by cultivation, the latter by importation. In recommending Indian corn, he says, ‘The common people in the northern parts of Italy live almost entirely upon it, and throughout the whole continent of America it makes a principal article of food. In Italy it is called polenta; and it is there prepared in a variety of ways, and forms the basis of a number of very nourishing dishes. The most common way of using it in that country is to grind it into meal, and, with water, to make it into a thick kind of pudding, like what in England is called hasty-pudding, which is eaten with various kinds of sauce, and sometimes without sauce.’ In America, besides being used for puddings, it forms an ingredient of bread. In testimony to its pleasantness and wholesomeness as an article of food, he mentions the circumstance of the universal fondness of the Americans for it; and that the negroes, in countries where both rice and Indian corn are grown, invariably prefer it to rice, alleging that ‘rice turns to water in their bellies,’ but ‘Indian corn stays with them, and makes them strong to work.’

As to the best mode of preparing food for the purposes of economy, Rumford’s grand recipe was—​soup. ‘At the time when Rumford entered the service of the elector,’ says his biographer, Dr. Renwick, ‘the pay of the private soldier was no more than about three cents a day; under his administration it was raised to about four cents. Out of this he was compelled to purchase every article of food, except bread, of which a ration of little more than two pounds was issued to him. When we compare this scanty allowance with the rations of our own army and navy, we should fancy that the condition of the Bavarian soldiers must have been miserable in the extreme; but so far from this being the case, they are described as ‘the finest, stoutest, and strongest men in the world, whose countenances show the most evident marks of health and perfect contentment.’ Such was the skill in cookery possessed by the Bavarian soldier, that he was enabled to subsist on two-thirds of his scanty pay, and, in addition, to save five-sixths of his ration of bread, which he sold.’ By inquiries and experiments, Rumford became convinced that the cause of the mystery lay in the fact, that the Bavarian soldier used his food almost universally in the form of soup. ‘What surprised me not a little,’ he says, ‘was the discovery of the very small quantiy of solid food which, when properly prepared, will suffice to satisfy hunger, and support life and health; and the very trifling expense at which the stoutest and most laborious man may in any country be fed. After an experience of nearly five years in feeding the poor at Munich, it was found that the cheapest, most savory, and most nourishing food that could be prepared was a soup composed of pearl barley, pease, potatoes, cuttings of fine wheaten bread, vinegar, salt, and water, in certain proportions. I constantly found that the richness or quality of a soup depended more upon a proper choice of the ingredients, and a proper management of the fire, than upon the quantity of solid nutritious matter employed—​much more upon the art and skill of the cook, than upon the amount of the sums laid out in the market. I found also that the nutritiousness of a soup, or its power of satisfying hunger, and affording nourishment, seemed always to be in proportion to its apparent richness or palatableness.’

Struck with these remarkable results, Rumford endeavoring to explain them, by supposing that the water used in converting solid nutritious matter into soup became of itself nutritious, serving not merely as the vehicle for food, but really constituting a part of the food itself. This supposition of Rumford is now ascertained to be a mistake. ‘Physiologists, however,’ says Dr. Renwick, ‘have reached the true explanation. The quantity of matter required to supply the waste of the body at all ages, and furnish the material for the growth of the young, is small compared with the actual capacity of the digestive organ, while the latter is not satiated, nor the appetite satisfied, unless it receive a certain degree of distention. A quantity of warm liquid, holding so much nutritious matter in solution as to render digestion necessary, will fulfill the latter object as well as an equal bulk of solid food; while the necessity of expelling the excess above the actual wants of the system many in the latter case be productive of evil.’

With such a decided preference for the soup form of food as Count Rumford had been led to entertain, it is not to be wondered at that soup was an essential feature in all his schemes for the benefit of the poor. Soup was the great article of food employed in his experiments in Munich; and in his contemplated project of public kitchens and dining-rooms for large towns, the necessary condition of success was, that soup should be the staple diet. He even went into the details of the composition of soup; and his essays contain receipts for making various kinds of soup, with and without butcher-meat. The following judicious observations of Rumford’s American biographer seem to sum up both the merits and the demerits of these experiments and speculations:—​‘The only question which admits of doubt is, how the description of food preferred by Rumford is adapted to the circumstances of all countries. Now, to the greater part of the Anglo-Saxon race, soup, if not an abomination, will never be received as the staple of more than one daily meal; while tea and coffee, whose use Rumford reprobates, with their accompaniment of sugar, have become necessaries of life. In Paris, soup, which became for a while the fashionable mode of administering charity, was well adapted to the habits of the people; but in England and America it was received with grumbling, or rejected by all who could in any other mode obtain food. One reason no doubt was, that it was considered sufficient to make the food nutritious, without attempting to make it pleasing to the palate. This defeat is far from inherent; for the soups of Rumford, whether containing none but vegetable matter, or a mixture of animal substance, may be easily rendered as delicious as the most costly preparations of the French kitchen.’

Besides the general schemes which we have mentioned, Count Rumford was engaged, during his residence in Bavaria, in many minor plans of social improvement; indeed, as we have already said, he acted the part of surveyor-general of the abuses of the electorate. It was not in the nature of things that he should be able to proceed in his various innovations and reforms without provoking some jealousy and opposition among the Bavarian nobles: the support and favor, however, of the elector never failed him, and with the people at large he was exceedingly popular. In the year 1794, finding his health greatly impaired by his close attention to business, he obtained leave of absence from the elector, and employed sixteen months in traveling through various parts of the continent, especially Italy. During his absence, two very gratifying testimonies of respect and gratitude were borne to him by the Bavarians. The first was, the erection of a monument to commemorate his public services. The other was still more honorable to him: it was the resolution, already referred to, of the inmates of the Military Workhouse, when they heard that he was dangerously ill at Naples, to set apart an hour every evening to pray for his recovery. In 1795 Rumford returned to Bavaria, but left it almost immediately, to proceed on a visit to England. Here he was received with all distinction, and his opinion and advice were asked by all engaged in philanthropic schemes. To save himself the labor thus entailed upon him, he resolved to publish an account of his doings and experiments in Bavaria, and accordingly prepared for the press the two volumes of essays which go by his name. The only subject of general interest in these essays, apart from the purely scientific disquisitions, which remains to be mentioned by us, is that of fuel.

In undertaking to reform chimneys and fireplaces, Count Rumford had three objects in view—​the saving of fuel, the prevention of smoke, and the avoidance of the injury to health arising from drafts. The extent of his services in this unpretending but most important department will be better estimated if we consider the state of fireplaces in most European countries fifty or sixty years ago. ‘The most polished nations of antiquity,’ says Dr. Renwick, ‘had no other means of providing for the issue of the smoke of their fires than by leaving openings in the roof. They indeed appear, in some instances, to have heated apartments by flues circulating beneath the floors, which must have terminated in a vertical funnel, thus forming an approximation to the chimney; but there appears to be no instance of the arrangement of an open hearth and vertical flue until late in the middle ages. Chimneys and fireplaces of the latter date are still to be seen in the kitchens and halls of baronial mansions; but the hearths were of great size, the arched openings wide and lofty, insomuch that they could be entered by persons standing upright, and admitted seats to be placed on each side of the fire. The latter, indeed, were the only places where the warmth of the fire could be enjoyed without exposure to the currents of cold air continually rushing in to join the ascending column in the chimney. Even when an increasing scarcity of fuel compelled less extravagant modes of applying it to be sought, the arched opening remained of a large size, the fireplace of a depth equal in extent to its front, and the walls were carried back perpendicularly to the latter. In England, where coal had come into almost universal use as a fuel, the grates in which it was burnt were almost exact cubes, and were lined with cast-iron on the sides and back. The evils of these fire-places may be recollected by all whose age reaches fifty; and they are remembered with feelings in which shuddering and scorching are strangely combined, but which are almost unknown, and scarcely to be imagined, by the present generation. Chimneys which did not smoke were the exception to the general rule; and the exposure of the surface of the body to cold currents generated the acute pains of rheumatism, while the frequent alternations of an increased and checked perspiration caused colds, to be followed, in regular course, by pulmonary complaints. In this state of things Rumford undertook to remedy the manifold evils of the open fireplace.’

Observing that the heat of a mass of blazing fuel in a grate consisted of two parts—​that which radiated into the room, and served the purposes of warmth; and that which, by heating the column of air in the chimney, caused it to ascend, Rumford saw that an enormous saving could be effected by diminishing the size of the grate. Instead of a cubical mass of fuel, such as was generally used, he proposed to employ a grate of ordinarily broad front, but not deep backward, and with the sides not perpendicular to the front, but inclining. The effect of this was to limit the fire to the single function of warming the room by radiation from its front, while the mass of coal which had formerly been consumed without any benefit to the apartment was saved. In order, however, to prevent the smoking of the chimneys which would have arisen from this diminution of the burning mass, another change was necessary, and this was the narrowing the throat of the chimney, so as to allow no more air to pass through it than the precise quantity required to maintain the combustion. ‘The immoderate size of the throats of chimneys,’ says Rumford, ‘is the great fault of their construction. It is this fault which ought always first to be attended to in every attempt which is made to improve them; for however perfect the construction of a fireplace may be in other respects, if the opening left for the passage of the smoke is larger than is necessary for that purpose, nothing can prevent the warm air of the room from escaping through it; and whenever this happens, there is not only an unnecessary loss of heat, but the warm air which leaves the room to go up the chimney being replaced by cold air from without, drafts of cold air cannot fail to be produced in the room, to the great annoyance of those who inhabit it.’

Such is a general description of Count Rumford’s alterations in fireplaces. The subject, however, was pursued by him to its minutest details, and illustrated by numerous and specific plans for curing smoky chimneys under all possible circumstances. He likewise invented various forms of stoves and grates, intended to exhibit the model perfection of an apparatus for heating rooms, or for cooking victuals. So thorough and complete was his investigation of the subject, that little remained afterwards to be added to his conclusions; and it may be said, that any case of the continuance of a smoky chimney after the publication of his essays, arose from a neglect or misapplication of the principles there developed.

After some stay in Great Britain, he returned to Munich in 1796, accompanied by his daughter, who had come over from America at his request, her mother having died in 1792. What were Count Rumford’s relations with America, during the long interval of his absence from it, we have no means of ascertaining; as far as can be inferred, however, he seems to have maintained little correspondence with his former friends in the United States till after his wife’s death; and one cannot help remarking the unpleasing circumstance, that while on one side of the Atlantic the husband was enjoying an honorable position, and filling a large space in the public eye, the wife and daughter continued during the life of the former to reside on the other.

Rumford, on his return to Munich, was occupied in very important affairs. The advance of the French republican army under Moreau obliged the elector to quit the capital, leaving a council of regency, with Rumford at its head. Rumford succeeded in the arduous task of freeing Bavaria from invasion, and his conduct on this occasion increased his reputation with the elector and with the people. Among other tokens of the elector’s gratitude for his services, he was permitted to settle one-half of the pension which he enjoyed on his daughter, to be paid during her lifetime. In 1798 the elector, partly with a view to gratify him with an honor which he knew he desired, and partly to afford him another opportunity of relaxation for the improvement of his health, appointed him ambassador at the court of Great Britain. On arriving in London, however, Rumford found, that in consequence of the English legal fiction, by which a born subject of the country is declared incapable of ever alienating his allegiance, he could not be received as the Bavarian ambassador. Mortified as he must have been by this circumstance, and still more deeply grieved by the loss of his friend and patron, the Elector Charles Theodore, who died in 1799, Rumford contemplated returning to spend the remainder of his life in the land of his birth. In compliance with a formal invitation which he received from the United States government, he was making preparations for his return, and had written to a friend to secure a cottage in the vicinity of Boston, as a ‘quiet little retreat,’ when he was led to change his design, and remain in London, in the society of which he occupied a conspicuous place. During several years, a great part of the Count Rumford’s time was devoted to the interests of the Royal Institution, of which he may be considered the founder. The objects of this institution, now one of the recognized scientific establishments of the world, and one which can boast of having given employment to such men as Young, Davy, Brande, and Faraday, were ‘to diffuse the knowledge and facilitate the general introduction of useful mechanical inventions and improvements, and to teach, by courses of philosophical lectures and experiments, the application of science to the useful purposes of life.’ Such an institution was precisely the one which Rumford was qualified to superintend; and in its early history, the influence of his peculiar habits of thought is discernable in the choice of subjects for investigation by the members. Subsequently, the institution assumed the high scientific character which it yet holds.

In 1802, Count Rumford left England, and spent some time in travel. Revisiting Munich, he found the workhouse which he had planned, and which had been instrumental in producing so much good, abolished, and the new elector, Maximilian, friendly indeed but indisposed to follow the footsteps of his predecessor. Accordingly, after assisting in modeling a Bavarian academy of sciences, he took farewell of his adopted country, and went to reside in Paris, retaining an income of about £1200 from the Bavarian court. At the same time his daughter returned to America, her father having abandoned his intention of returning along with her. In Paris, Count Rumford appears at first to have gained the good-will and esteem which had attended him so remarkably during his previous life; and not long after he began his residence there, he contracted a second marriage with the widow of the celebrated Lavoisier, put to death during the French Revolution. From 1804 to 1814 he resided with his wife at Auteuil, a villa at a short distance from Paris, the property of Madame Lavoisier, and the scene of many of her former husband’s discoveries. Here Rumford employed himself in scientific pursuits of a miscellaneous nature. The union of the American-born citizen of the world with the widow of the illustrious Frenchman does not appear to have been a happy one; and there is evidence that, towards the end of his life, Rumford had become unpopular in Parisian society. Cuvier attributes this to a certain coarseness and want of urbanity of manner; possibly, however, the fault was less in the person criticised than in the Parisian standard of criticism, for the charge seems inconsistent with the tenor of Rumford’s life.

Rumford’s death took place at Auteuil on the 21st of August 1814, in the sixty-second year of his age. He left some bequests for the promotion of science in America; the rest of his property, which does not appear to have been great, he left to his relatives. His only daughter inherited the title of Countess of Rumford, with the continuation of her father’s Bavarian pension. She is, we believe, still alive, and has long resided in Paris.

Rumford, whose memoirs we have now detailed, was not a faultless character, or a person in every respect exemplary; but making due allowances for circumstances in which he was at the outset unfortunately placed, and keeping in mind that every man is less or more the creature of the age in which he lives, we arrive at the conclusion, that few individuals occupying a public position have been so thoroughly deserving of esteem. The practical, calm, and comprehensive nature of his mind, his resolute and methodical habits, the benevolence and usefulness of his projects, all excite our admiration. Cuvier speaks of Rumford as ‘having been the benefactor of his species without loving or esteeming them, as well as of holding the opinion that the mass of mankind ought to be treated as mere machines.’ A remark this which is applicable to not a few men who have been eminent for labors of a humane description, and which naturally gives rise to this other remark—​that a good intellectual method, directed to practical ends, is often of more value to mankind than what is called a good heart.

In the whole range of human science, no subject is calculated to excite such sublime ideas as astronomy; and to its study, therefore, the greatest minds have been directed both in ancient and modern times. Ancient, however, as are the investigations into the relations of the heavenly bodies, a correct idea of the planetary system was scarcely known before the sixteenth century of the Christian era. The theory generally received on that subject by the Chaldeans, Egyptians, Greeks, and other ancient nations, and which continued predominant till a comparatively recent period, described the earth as the center of all bodies occupying space, while the Moon, Venus, Mercury, the Sun, the planets, and the stars, revolved around it on a succession of solid spheres, at different distances, and at different rates of speed, so as to produce the appearances which are daily and nightly presented to our eyes in the heavens. Six centuries before the commencement of our era, Anaximander, Pythagoras, and other Grecian philosophers, had conceived some faint notion of a more correct system; but when they ventured to suggest that the sun was a fixed body, and that the earth was only one of a set of planets moving round it, they experienced so much persecution on account of the inconsistency of their doctrines with the religious ideas of the people, that they failed to establish their theory on a permanent basis. When learning and the arts revived in Italy in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, some attention was paid in the universities to astronomy; but the system taught was no better than that which Aristotle, Ptolemy, and other ancient astronomers had sanctioned, and which represented the sun and planets as moving round the earth. The time at length arrived for the revival of the correct notions entertained by Anaximander and Pythagoras.

Nicolas Copernicus, the modern to whom the honor of reviving that doctrine is due, was born, February 19, 1473, at Thorn, on the Vistula—​a place now included in the dominions of the king of Prussia. The father of Copernicus was a native of Westphalia, a part of Germany: he had chanced to settle at Thorn, as a surgeon, about ten years before the birth of his son. Young Copernicus was educated for the profession of medicine at the university of Cracow; but his favorite studies were mathematics, perspective, astronomy, and painting. At an early age, inspired by an eager wish to distinguish himself in astronomy, he proceeded to Italy, and studied that science at the university of Bologna. It is supposed that a discovery of his teacher Dominic Maria, respecting the changes of the axis of the earth, was what first awakened his mind to the errors of the planetary system then taught. From Bologna he proceeded to Rome, where for some time he taught mathematics with great success—​pursuing all the while, as far as circumstances would permit, his astronomical observations.

When he afterwards returned to his native country, his maternal uncle, the bishop of Ermeland, appointed him a canon in the cathedral of Frauenburg and at the same time he was nominated by the inhabitants of his native town to be archdeacon in one of their churches. He then resolved to devote his life to three objects—​the performance of his clerical duties, gratuitous medical attendance on the poor, and the pursuit of his favorite studies. His residence was established in one of the houses belonging to the canons of Frauenburg, on the brow of a height near the cathedral, where astronomical observations could be conducted under very favorable circumstances; and in its walls are still to be seen the openings which he made, in order to observe the passage of stars across the meridian. It is supposed to have been about the year 1507 that he first became convinced of the superiority of the planetary theory of Pythagoras. He determined, however, to be very cautious in adopting, and still more cautious in announcing, an opinion so much at variance with the ordinary ideas of mankind. Mathematical instruments were in that age very rude, and the telescope had not been invented. The only implements which Copernicus had for making observations were two, coarsely framed of firwood, with measures marked by lines of ink. Thus provided, he devoted himself for several years to the inquiries necessary for proving his theory; and at length, about the year 1530, he had completed a work, in which the whole system was expounded—​namely, the immobility of the sun in the centre of the planetary system; while its apparent motion, and the alternations of day and night, were to be attributed to the annual and diurnal movements of the earth. The real distances of the planets, and the declination of the pole of the earth, were also explained.

The doctrines of Copernicus were already known to a considerable number of learned and comparatively enlightened persons, who received them with due respect; and it is creditable to the Romish church that several of its dignitaries were among the number. But the bulk of mankind, including their religious teachers, were then comparatively ignorant, and accordingly prejudiced; and however firm the conviction of the astronomer as to the truth of his theory, he yet hesitated to make it public, dreading the opposition it would have to encounter—​seeing that it opposed the inveterate prejudices of the learned, and the illusory testimony of the senses. In reasoning, they acted under the guidance of rules which made it scarcely possible for them to ascertain truth, or to acknowledge it when it was presented to them in the clearest light. If anything had been said in former times by a person whose memory they respected, they would not willingly listen to anything which contradicted, or seemed to contradict it. They walked, in short, by authority, and not by the dictates of reflection; and the consequence was, that every new truth which experience or the inquiries of the best minds brought forth, had to contend with the less worthy notions which had come down from earlier and darker ages. Amongst the opinions received by them, was that which represented the earth as the immovable centre of the universe. It was sanctioned by the greatest men of ancient times; it had long been taught; it was conformable to the common appearances of things; and various passages in the Scriptures were believed to assert it, though in reality those passages only do not contradict (and this probably for wise purposes) the ordinary ideas of mankind respecting the stability of the earth. Copernicus only acted, therefore, with necessary caution, when he hesitated to publish the work which had cost him the labor of so many years.

Rheticus, one of the friends to whom he had communicated his theory, at length, in 1540, ventured to give an outline of it to the world in a small pamphlet, which he published without his name. As this excited no disapprobation, the same person reprinted it next year with his name. In both publications the doctrines were ascribed openly to Nicolas Copernicus. About the same time, a learned man, Erasmus Reinhold, in a work which he published, spoke of the new doctrines with the greatest respect, and styled their author a second Ptolemy; for it often happens that the greatest compliment that can be paid to the discoverer of truth, is to mention him in the same breath with some founder of error. Copernicus now allowed himself to be pursuaded by his friends to publish his work; and it was accordingly put to press at Nuremburg, under the care of some learned persons of that city. But he was now an old man, and it was not his lot to live to see the book published. As soon as it was printed, a copy of it was sent to him by his friend Rheticus, but it only reached him, May 23, 1543, a few hours before he expired. He appeared to be scarcely conscious of the object to which so many years of his life had been devoted. But his mission was accomplished. Committed to the perpetuating operations of the infant printing-press, all danger was over of losing the germ of those great and fertile truths which in our days render astronomy the most perfect of sciences.

The theory of Copernicus was thus brought before the world; but, whether from the death of the philosopher, or because little disturbance of popular notions was anticipated from so learned a work, or from whatever other circumstances, it was visited with no marks of reprobation from any quarter at the time. In proportion, however, as it became known, so did its opponents increase. Those were the days when the fagot and stake made short work with those who presumed to strike out a course of thinking for themselves; and though the author of the system and its immediate adopters passed unmolested, yet during the century which ensued were its followers and supporters persecuted with all the zeal and cruelty that bigotry and ignorant prejudice could devise. Truth, however, is imperishable; and, though repressed and retarded for a season, is ever sure to take its right place among the established beliefs of mankind. And thus it has been with the Copernican theory, whose importance to the progress of accurate science we cannot in reality over-estimate. To form anything like an adequate idea of the value of its author’s services to the cause of science, we must place ourselves back in the time and circumstances which saw their birth. Then, it must be remembered, the want of telescopes rendered all appearances in the sky much more difficult of explanation than they would have been a century later. The accumulated errors and superstitions of fourteen centuries were not to be easily shaken and removed; neither were the prejudices and dogmas of the learned to be disturbed with impunity. What might have been astronomical science, was, even in the writings of the fathers, little better than a mass of absurd and subtle disquisitions on the substance of the heavens and the heavenly bodies. All these Copernicus had to surmount; and the elaboration of his theory presents an ever-memorable example of the power of patient and earnest thought in the investigation of a complicated subject, and acuteness of discrimination between the true and the fallacious.

Of eminent astronomers, the next in point of time was Tycho Brahè, who, though adopting the Ptolemaic notion of the earth being the fixed and immovable centre of the universe, yet did good service to the progress of the science by his numerous observations and discoveries. Descended of an ancient and noble family, originally of Sweden, but settled in Denmark, Tycho was born December 14, 1546, at Knub Strup, in the bailiwick of Schönen, the jurisdiction of which was then held by his father. When seven years old, he commenced the study of the classics, his education, as well as that of his brothers, being intrusted to private tutors. His father dying, his uncle sent him, in 1559, to study philosophy and rhetoric at Copenhagen, where it was intended to train him for some civil employment. The great eclipse of the sun on the 21st August 1560, happening at the precise time the astronomers foretold, he began to look upon astronomy as something divine; and purchasing the tables of Stadius, gained some notion of the theory of the planets. His thoughts were now wholly engrossed with astronomy; and though sent by his uncle, in 1562, to study jurisprudence at Leipsic, mathematics, and not law, were the subject of his private labors. It is told of him, that, having procured a small celestial globe, he was wont to wait till his tutor had gone to bed, in order to examine the constellations and learn their names; and that, when the sky was clear, he used to spend whole nights in viewing the stars. He abandoned the amusements and pleasures fitting for his age, and devoted his pocket-money to the purchase of mathematical and astronomical books, the perusal of which he persisted in, in spite of the remonstrances and rebukes of his preceptor. About this time he also began to apply himself to chemistry, less perhaps for the cause of the science, than with a view to discover the Philosopher’s Stone and the grand Elixir of Life—​a digression from his astronomical career, prompted no doubt by the natural supersition and enthusiasm of his constitution.

In 1571 he returned to Denmark; and was favored by his mother’s brother, Steno Belle, a lover of learning, with a convenient place at the castle of Herritzvad, near Knub Strup, for conducting his observations and building a laboratory: but marrying a peasant girl beneath his rank, such a violent quarrel ensued between him and his relations, that Frederick II, king of Denmark, was obliged to interpose to reconcile them. In 1575, he began his travels through Germany, and proceeded as far as Venice, meeting with the kindliest attention from various philosophers and crowned heads. This attention, conjoined with certain offers made him by the Landgrave of Hesse, and the greater facility of procuring better apparatus, induced him to think of removing his family to Basil; but Frederick of Denmark, being informed of his design, and unwilling to lose such an ornament to his country, promised (to enable him to pursue his studies) to bestow upon him for life the island of Hveen in the Sound, to erect an observatory and laboratory there, and to defray all the expenses necessary for carrying on his designs. Tycho Brahè readily embraced this proposal; and, accordingly, the first stone of the observatory was laid in August 1576. The king also bestowed on him a pension of two thousand crowns, a fee in Norway, and a canonry, which brought him one thousand more. In this retreat he was visited by various princes; among others, by James VI of Scotland, when proceeding to Denmark to marry the princess Anne. This monarch, of literary memory, made the astronomer several presents, and with his own hand wrote some verses in his praise. In Uranienborg, for such he had styled his new erection, he framed that system of the universe which is yet known by his name; namely, that the earth remains fixed and immovable as the grand centre, and that the sun and all the heavenly bodies revolve around it—​a doctrine the reverse of that of Copernicus, which all succeeding astronomers have adopted. But though mistaken in this conception, we are indebted to him for a more correct catalogue of the fixed stars; for several important discoveries respecting the motions of the moon and comets, and the refraction of the rays of light; and for valuable improvements in astronomical instruments. Tycho was likewise a skillful chemist, and found in poetry his recreation from severer studies. His Latin poems are said to exhibit considerable merit; but his chemical manipulations partook too much of the alchemy of his day to be of use to future inquirers.

Happy might our philosopher have been in the castle of Uranienborg, had not his impetuous character, and his fondness for satire, made him many enemies, who prejudiced Christian IV, the successor of Frederick II, against him. On the death of his patron, he was deprived of his pension, fee, and canonry; and finding himself incapable of bearing the expenses of his observatory, he went to Copenhagen, whither he brought some of his instruments, and continued his observations in the city, till Valkendorf, chamberlain to Christian, commanded him, by the king’s orders, to discontinue them. He then removed his family to Rostock, and afterwards to Holstein, to solicit Henry Ranzon to introduce him to the Emperor Rodolphus, who was a great friend to astronomy and astrology. Succeeding in his wishes, he was received by the emperor with the greatest civility and respect; provided with a magnificent house, till he could procure one more fit for astronomical observations; allotted a pension of three hundred crowns; and promised, upon the first opportunity, a fee for himself and his descendants. Unluckily he did not long enjoy this happy situation; for, being suddenly taken ill with a fatal disease, he was cut off on the 24th of October 1601, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. He was interred with great pomp and ceremony in the principal church of Prague, where a noble monument was erected to his memory; thus like many other men of eminence, receiving in a strange land the honors that had been denied him in his own.

Tycho was, notwithstanding his faults and weaknesses, a remarkable man for the age in which he lived; his errors and misjudgments being to a great extent those of his era. His skill in astronomy is universally admitted; and though failing to establish his system over that of Copernicus, yet no one can deny him the merit of advancing by his labors the progress of the science. That he was addicted to astrology, presages, and the occult sciences, is true; but these were features of the age more than of individuals: that he was impetuous, sarcastic, and unamiable, is to be regretted; but it must also be admitted that the grossest injustice was done him and the cause of science by the successor of his patron. Most of his works, which were numerous, and written in Latin, are still extant. The Emperor Rodolphus purchased his expensive astronomical and other instruments; but they were mostly destroyed after the battle of the Weisseberg, near Prague, in 1620. A large sextant alone remains in Prague. The famous brass celestial globe, which was six feet in diameter, and cost about a thousand pounds, returned to Copenhagen after various adventures, but perished in the great fire of 1728. The castle of Uranienborg, where he nightly watched and pondered, has long been in ruins, leaving scarcely a trace of its structure and character. All, however, has not perished, nor been fruitless. ‘It was the friendship of Tycho,’ says an eminent authority, ‘which formed Kepler, and directed him in the career of astronomy. Without this friendship, and without the numerous observations of Tycho, of which Kepler found himself the depositary after the death of his master, he would never have been able to discover those great laws of the system of the world which have been called ‘Kepler’s Laws,’ and which, combined with the theory of central forces, discovered by Hüygens, conducted Newton to the grandest discovery which has ever been made in the sciences—​that of universal gravitation.’

The Copernican theory, which Tycho had labored in vain to supersede, was next received and supported by an Italian philosopher, whose name and history are inseparably interwoven with the progress of astronomy. That illustrious individual, Galileo Galilei, usually known by his Christian name, was born at Pisa in 1564. His father, a Tuscan nobleman of small fortune, caused him to be educated for the profession of medicine at the university of his native city. While studying there, he became deeply sensible of the absurdities of the philosophy of Aristotle, as it had then come to be taught, and he became its declared enemy. That spirit of observation for which he was so distinguished was early developed. When only nineteen years old, the swinging of a lamp suspended from the ceiling of the cathedral in Pisa, led him to investigate the laws of the oscillation of the pendulum, which he was the first to employ as a measure of time. He left it incomplete, however, and it was brought to perfection by his son, Vincenzo, and particularly by Hüygens, the latter of whom must be regarded as the true inventor of the pendulum. About this period Galileo devoted himself exclusively to mathematics and natural science, and in 1586 was led to the invention of the hydrostatic balance. In 1589, his distinction in the exact sciences gained for him the chair of mathematics in his native university, where, immediately on his installation, he began to assert the laws of nature against a perverted philosophy. In the presence of numerous spectators, he performed a series of experiments in the tower of the cathedral, to show that weight has no influence on the velocity of falling bodies. By this means he excited the opposition of the adherents of Aristotle to such a degree, that, after two years, he was forced to resign his professorship. Driven from Pisa, he retired into private life; but his genius being appreciated in another part of Italy, he was, in 1592, appointed professor of mathematics in Pudua. He lectured here with unparalleled success. Scholars from the most distant regions of Europe crowded round him. He delivered his lectures in the Italian language instead of Latin, which was considered a daring innovation.

During eighteen years which he spent at Padua, he made many discoveries in natural philosophy, which he introduced into his lectures, without regard to their inconsistency with the doctrines previously taught. Among these may be mentioned his discovery of the rate of descent in falling bodies; certain improvements on the thermometer; some interesting observations on the magnet; and a number of experiments relative to the floating and sinking of solid bodies in water. In 1609, hearing that one Jansen, a Dutchman, had made an instrument by which distant objects were made to appear near, Galileo, whose mind was prepared for the discovery, instantly conceived on what principle it was constructed, and, without losing a day, he fashioned a similar instrument with many improvments: such was the origin of the telescope, the most interesting of all instruments connected with science.

Turning his optical tube towards the heavens, Galileo perceived the moon to be a body of uneven surface, the elevations of which he computed by their shadows; and the sun to be occasionally spotted; and from the regular advance from east to west of these spots, he inferred the rotation of the sun, and the inclination of its axis to the plane of the ecliptic. From a particular nebula, which his rude instrument enabled him to resolve into individual stars, he even conjectured, what Lord Rosse has but recently proved, that the whole Milky Way was but a vast assemblage of stars and systems. He discovered that the planet Venus waxed and waned like the moon, that Saturn had something like wings by its sides (afterwards found to be a ring), and that Jupiter was surrounded by four satellites. It is now altogether impossible to imagine the wonder and delight with which these discoveries must have filled the mind of a philosopher like Galileo, who had perhaps long surmised that all was not as it seemed in the heavens, but despaired of ever being able to penetrate the mystery. In the year 1611, while entering upon his investigations, he was induced, by the invitation of his prince, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, to return to Pisa, and resume the chair of mathematics there, with a large salary. It was consequently at that city that he first gave his discoveries to the world. That persecution which had only been suspended by accident in the case of Copernicus, now fell with full weight on the head of the Italian philosopher. Having openly declared, in a work which he published, that his discoveries proved the truth of the Copernican theory, he was denounced by the clergy as a heretic, and obliged, in 1615, to proceed to Rome, and appear before the court of Inquisition, who obliged him to promise that he would never more broach such dangerous doctrines. It has been stated, but is not quite certain, that he was on this occasion imprisoned by the Inquisition for five months, and that he would have suffered still more severely if the Grand Duke had not interceded for him.

For several years he observed the silence enjoined upon him, but continued to pursue the study of the true theory of the heavens. Panting to make known to the world a complete account of the system of Copernicus, yet dreading the prejudices of his enemies, he fell upon the expedient of writing a work, in which, without giving his own opinion, he introduces three persons in a dialogue, of whom the first defends the Copernican system, the second the Ptolemæan (or that of Aristotle), and the third weighs the reasons of both in such a way, that the subject seems problematical, though it is impossible to mistake the preponderance of arguments in favor of Copernicus. With this great work, which is still held in reverence, Galileo went to Rome in 1630, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, and, by an extraordinary stretch of favor, received permission to print it. Scarcely had it appeared at Rome and Florence, when it was attacked by the disciples of Aristotle, and most violently of all by the teacher of philosophy at Pisa. A congregation of cardinals, monks, and mathematicians, was appointed to examine his work, which they unhesitatingly condemned as highly dangerous, and summoned him before the tribunal of the Inquisition. This blow fell heavily on the head of Galileo, now an old man, and left defenseless by the death of his friend and patron, Cosmo II. He was compelled to go to Rome in the winter of 1633, and was immediately immured in a cell in one of the prisons of the Inquisition. There he remained for several months, when, being brought before an assembly of his judges, he was condemned to renounce, kneeling before them, with his hand upon the gospels, what were called the ‘sinful and detestable errors and heresies’ which he had maintained. The firmness of Galileo gave way at this critical moment of his life: he pronounced the recantation. But at the moment he rose, indignant at having sworn in violation of his conviction, he exclaimed, stamping his foot, ‘E pur si muove!’—​(‘It still moves!’) Upon this dreadful relapse into heresy, he was sentenced to imprisonment in the Inquisition for life, and every week for three years was to repeat the seven penitential psalms; his ‘Dialogues’ were also prohibited, and his system utterly condemned. Although Galileo was in this manner sentenced to confinement, it appeared to those who judged him that he would not be able, from his age, to endure such a severe punishment, and they mercifully banished him to a particular spot near Florence.

Here Galileo lived for several years, employing his time in the study of mechanics and other branches of natural philosophy. The results are found in two important works on the laws of motion, the foundation of the present system of physics and astronomy. At the same time he tried to make use of Jupiter’s satellites for the calculation of longitudes; and though he brought nothing to perfection in this branch, he was the first who reflected systematically on such a method of fixing geographical longitudes. He was at this time afflicted with a disease in his eyes, one of which was wholly blind, and the other almost useless, when, in 1637, he discovered the libration of the moon. Blindness, deafness, want of sleep, and pain in his limbs, united to embitter his declining years; still his mind was active. ‘In my darkness,’ he writes in the year 1638, ‘I muse now upon this object of nature, and now upon that, and find it impossible to soothe my restless head, however much I wish it. This perpetual action of mind deprives me almost wholly of sleep.’ In this condition, and affected by a slowly-consuming fever, he expired in January, 1642, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. His relics were deposited in the church of Santa Croce, at Florence, where posterity did justice to his memory by erecting a splendid monument in 1737.

Galileo is represented by his biographers as of diminutive stature, but strong and healthy, of agreeable countenance, and lively conversation and manner. He preferred living in the country, where his relaxations consisted in the cultivation of his garden, and in the company and conversation of his friends. He loved music, drawing, and poetry; and is said to have been so fond of Ariosto, that he knew the whole of the ‘Orlando’ by heart. He had few books; ‘the best book,’ he said, ‘is nature.’ A complete edition of his works, in thirteen volumes, appeared at Milan in 1803, the style of which is natural and fluent, so elegant and pure, that it has been held up by competent judges as a model of classical Italian. ‘Altogether,’ says Professor Playfair, ‘Galileo is one of those to whom human knowledge is under the greatest obligation. His discoveries in the theory of motion, in the laws of the descent of heavy bodies, and in the motion of projectiles, laid the foundation of all the great improvements which have since been made by the application of mathematics to natural philosophy. If to these we add the invention of the telescope, the discoveries made by that instrument, the confirmation of the Copernican system which these discoveries afforded, and lastly, the wit and argument with which he combated and exposed the prejudice and presumption of the schools, we must admit that the history of human knowledge contains few greater names than that of Galileo.’

Cotemporary with Tycho Brahé and Galileo, and to some extent the associate and successor of the former, was John Kepler, one of the most eminent astronomers who have appeared in any age, and to whom the science is indebted for much of its present perfection. He was born December 27, 1571, at Wiel in Wurtemberg, and was descended of a noble but reduced family. His father, originally an officer of distinction in the army of Wurtemberg, was, at the time of young Kepler’s birth, in the humble capacity of a small inn-keeper; and thus, as is too often the case with genius, our philosopher had to struggle into fame through poverty and the vicissitudes of his father’s fortune. Poor, unbefriended, of a weakly constitution, and one of the most diminutive of children, Kepler received the rudiments of knowledge at the Monastic school of Maulbrunn, where he gave early indications of talent, and of that irrepressible spirit which, amid the severest obstructions, was never diverted from the main object of its pursuit. After his father’s death, which took place in his eighteenth year, he left Maulbrunn, and succeeded in entering the college of Tubingen. Here he completed the course of study then prescribed—​first philosophy and mathematics, and then theology; taking the degree of Bachelor in the year 1588, and that of Master of Philosophy in the year 1591. Of apt inquiring powers as a divine, and of more than average eloquence as a preacher, Kepler could now have readily succeeded in the church; but mathematics and the exact sciences were his favorite themes; and it may be fairly questioned if ever he turned a single thought to the clerical profession, beyond what the curriculum of the university compelled. In 1593–4, his reputation as a geometrician had so increased, that he was invited to fill the mathematical chair in the university of Gratz, in Styria. Here he pursued his astronomical studies with the most commendable zeal, devoting himself especially to the investigation of the physical causes of the motion of the celestial bodies.

Shortly after his installment, he married a lady descended from a noble family, and was beginning to enjoy that domestic happiness and studious quiet so congenial to his wishes, when persecution on account of his religion compelled him to leave Gratz, to which, however, he was afterwards recalled by the states of Styria. Meanwhile Tycho Brahé, who had come to Germany, and was comfortably settled under the munificent patronage of Rodolphus, fixed upon Kepler as a suitable assistant, and soon induced him, by urgent letters and flattering promises, to accept of the situation. Compelled in a great measure by the unsettled state of affairs in Austria, Kepler speedily repaired to Prague, and applied himself, in conjunction with Tycho, to the completion of the Rodolphine Tables, which were first published at Ulm in 1626. At Tycho’s recommendation, he was established at that place; but as his office and science did not afford him a subsistence, he studied medicine, in order to gain a livelihood by its practice. The emperor had assigned him a salary, but in the period of trouble which preceded the Thirty Years’ War, it was not paid. Even when he was appointed imperial mathematician by Matthias, Rodolphus’ successor, his hopes of recovering his arrears were disappointed. Fresh controversies with the clergy, and the disturbed state of the country, made his situation very uncomfortable: he therefore left Lintz, repaired to Ratisbon, declined an invitation to England, was confirmed by the succeeding emperor, Ferdinand, in the office of imperial methematician, and afterwards went to Ulm to superintend the printing of the Rodolphine Tables. In 1627 he returned to Prague, and received from the emperor six thousand guilders. He finally became a professor at Rostock, on the recommendation of Albert, duke of Wallenstein, but did not receive the promised compensation. In 1630 he went, by permission of the emperor, to Ratisbon, to claim payment of the arrears of his pension; but he was there seized with a violent fever, supposed to have been brought upon him by too hard riding; and to this he fell a victim in the month of November, in the fifty-ninth year of his age. In 1808, a monument, consisting of a Doric temple enshrining his bust, was erected to his memory in Ratisbon by Charles Theodore Von Dalberg.

Kepler is represented by his biographers as a man of small stature, thin, of a weak constitution, and defective sight; but of somewhat gay and sportive manners. He was attached to his science with the most fervent enthusiasm; he sought after truth with eagerness, but forgot, in the search, the maxims of worldly prudence. To him were allotted but a scanty share of what are commonly esteemed the pleasures of life; but he endured all calamities with firmness, being consoled by the higher enjoyments which science never fails to impart to her true and cordial votaries. ‘As an astronomer,’ says Lalande, ‘he is as famous in astronomy for the sagacious application which he made of Tycho’s numerous observations (for he was not himself an observer), as the Danish philosopher for the collection of such vast materials.’ To him, says another authority, the world is indebted for the discovery of the true figure of the planetary orbits, and the proportions of the motions of the solar system. Like the disciples of Pythagoras and Plato, Kepler was seized with a peculiar passion for finding analogies and harmonies in nature; and though this led him to the adoption of strange and ridiculous conceits, we shall readily be disposed to overlook these, when we reflect they were the means of leading him to the most important discoveries. He was the first who discovered that astronomers had been mistaken in ascribing circular orbits and uniform motions to the planets, since each of them moves in an ellipse, having one of its foci in the sun; and after a variety of fruitless efforts, he, on the 15th of May 1618, made his splendid discovery, that the squares of the periodic times of the planets are always in the same portion as the cubes of their mean distances from the sun. The sagacity of this wonderful man, and his incessant application to the study of the planetary motions, pointed out to him some of the genuine principles from which these motions originate. He considered gravity as a power that is mutual between bodies; that the earth and moon tend toward each other, and would meet in a point so many times nearer to the earth than to the moon as the earth is greater than the moon, if their motions did not prevent it. His opinion of the tides was, that they arise from the gravitation of the waters towards the moon; but his notions of the laws of motion not being accurate, he could not turn his conceptions to the best advantage. The prediction he uttered at the end of his epitome of astronomy, has been long since verified by the discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton; namely, that the determination of the true laws of gravity was reserved for the succeeding age, when the Author of Nature would be pleased to reveal these mysteries.

The year in which Galileo died, was that in which Isaac Newton was born. This eminent individual, who was destined to establish the truth of the discoveries of his illustrious predecessors, Copernicus and Galileo, was born on the 25th of December 1642, at Coltersworth, in Lincolnshire, where his father cultivated his own moderate paternal property. After receiving the rudiments of education, under the superintendence of his mother, he was sent, at the age of twelve, to the grammar school at Grantham, where the bias of his early genius was shown by a skill in mechanical contrivances, which excited no small admiration. Whilst other boys were at play, his leisure hours were employed in forming working models of mills and machinery; he constructed a water-clock from an old box, which had an index moved by a piece of wood sinking as the drops fell from the bottom, and a regular dial-plate to indicate the hours.

On his removal from school, it was intended that he should follow the profession of a farmer, but his utter unfitness for the laborious toils of such a life was soon manifested. He was frequently found reading under a tree when he should have been inspecting cattle, or superintending laborers; and when he was sent to dispose of farming produce at Grantham market he was occupied in solving mathematical problems in a garret or hay-loft, whilst the business was transacted by an old servant who had accompanied him to town. These strong indications of the bias of his disposition were not neglected by his anxious mother; she sent him again for a few months to school, and on the 5th of June 1660, he was admitted a student of Trinity College, Cambridge.

The combination of industry and talents, with an amiable disposition and unassuming manners, naturally attracted the notice of his tutors, and the friendship of his admiring companions; amongst these was Isaac Barrow, afterwards justly celebrated as a preacher and a mathematician. Saunderson’s Logic, Kepler’s Optics, and the Arithmetic of Infinites by Wallis, were the books first studied by Newton at Cambridge. He read the geometry of Descartes diligently, and looked into the subject of judicial astrology, which then engaged some attention. He read little of Euclid, and is said to have regretted, in a subsequent part of his life, that he had not studied the old mathematician more deeply.

The attention of Newton, while he was pursuing his studies at Cambridge, was attracted to a branch of natural philosophy hitherto little understood—​namely, light. It was the opinion of the celebrated philosopher Descartes that light is caused by a certain motion or undulation of a very thin elastic medium, which he supposed pervaded space. Newton overturned this theory. Taking a piece of glass with angular sides, called a prism, he caused the sun to shine upon it through a small hole in the shutter of a darkened apartment. By this experiment he found that the light, in passing through the glass, was so refracted or broken, as to exhibit on the wall an image of seven different tints or colors; and after varying his experiments in a most ingenious way, he established the very interesting facts, that light is composed of rays resoluble into particles, that every ray of white light consists of three primary and differently colored rays (red, yellow, and blue), each of which three is more or less refrangible than the other. This remarkable discovery laid the foundation of the science of optics.

In 1665, the students of the university of Cambridge were suddenly dispersed by the breaking out of a pestilential disorder in the place. Newton retired for safety to his paternal estate: and though he lost for a time the advantages of public libraries and literary conversation, he rendered the years of his retreat a memorable era in his own existence, and in the history of science, by another of his great discoveries—​that of the theory of gravitation, or the tendency of bodies towards the center of our globe. One day, while sitting in his garden, he happened to see an apple fall from a tree, and immediately began to consider the general laws which must regulate all falling bodies. Resuming the subject afterwards, he found that the same cause which made the apple fall to the ground, retained the moon and planets in their orbits, and regulated, with a simplicity and power truly wonderful, the motions of all the heavenly bodies. In this manner was discovered the principle of gravitation, by a knowledge of which the science of astronomy is rendered comparatively perfect.

On his return to Cambridge in 1667, he was elected Fellow of Trinity College; and two years afterwards, he was appointed professor of mathematics in the place of his friend Dr. Barrow, who resigned. His great discoveries in the science of optics formed for some time the principal subject of his lectures, and his new theory of light and colors was explained, with a clearness arising from perfect knowledge, to the satisfaction of a crowded and admiring audience. He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1671, and is reputed to have been compelled to apply for a dispensation from the usual payment of one shilling weekly, which is contributed by each member towards the expenses. He had at this period of life no income except what he derived from his college and professorship, the produce of his estate being absorbed in supporting his mother and her family. His personal wishes were so moderate, that he never could regret the want of money, except as much as it limited his purchases of books and scientific instruments, and restricted his power of relieving the distresses of others. About the year 1683, he composed his great work, The Principia, or Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy. In 1688, the memorable year of the Revolution, he was chosen to represent the university in parliament, and the honor thus conferred on him was repeated in 1701. His great merit at last attracted the notice of those who had it in their power to bestow substantial rewards, and he was appointed warden of the Mint, an office for which his patient and accurate investigations singularly fitted him, and which he held with general approbation till his death. Honors and emoluments at last flowed upon him. Leibnitz, having felt envious of the discoveries of Newton, tried to revenge himself by transmitting a problem, which he thought would show his superiority, by baffling the skill of the English mathematician. It was received by Newton in the evening, after his usual day’s labor at the Mint, and he solved it before he retired to rest. After this there was no further attempt made to traduce his fame. In 1705 he received the honor of knighthood from Queen Anne.

Newton’s benevolence of disposition led him to perform all the minor duties of social life with great exactness; he paid and received frequent visits; he assumed no superiority in his conversation; he was candid, cheerful, and affable: his society was therefore much sought, and he submitted to intrusions on his valuable time without a murmur; but by early rising, and by a methodical distribution of his hours he found leisure to study and compose, and every moment which he could command, he passed with a pen in his hand and a book before him. He was generous and charitable—​one of his maxims being, that those who gave nothing before death, never, in fact, gave at all. His wonderful faculties were very little impaired, even in extreme old age; and his cheerful disposition, combined with temperance and a constitution naturally sound, preserved him from the usual infirmities of life. He was of middle size, with a figure inclining to plumpness; his eyes were animated, piercing, and intelligent; the general expression of his countenance was full of life and kindness; his sight was preserved to the last; and his hair in the decline of his days was white as snow. The severe trial of bodily suffering was reserved for the last stage of his existence, and he supported it with characteristic resignation. On the 20th of March 1727, he expired at the advanced age of eighty-four years.

The character of Newton cannot be delineated and discussed like that of ordinary men; it is so beautiful, that the biographer dwells upon it with delight, and the inquiry, by what means he attained an undisputed superiority over his fellow-creatures, must be both interesting and useful. Newton was endowed with talents of the highest order; but those who are less eminently gifted, may study his life with advantage, and derive instruction from every part of his career. With a power of intellect almost divine, he demonstrated the motions of the planets, the orbits of the comets, and the cause of the tides of the ocean; he investigated with complete success, the properties of light and colors, which no man before had even suspected; he was the diligent, sagacious, and faithful interpreter of nature, while his researches all tended to illustrate the power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator. Notwithstanding, also, his reach of understanding and knowledge, his modesty was such, that he thought nothing of his own acquirements; and he left behind him the celebrated saying, ‘that he appeared to himself as only a child picking up pebbles from the shore, while the great ocean of truth lay unexplored before him.’

While Newton, in England, was thus enlarging the boundaries of astronomy, and conferring upon it a degree of accuracy and system hitherto unknown, a number of continental philosophers were contributing materials, which, though of an humble character, were not the less necessary to the future progress of the science. First among these was Christian Hüygens, Lord of Zeelhem, born at the Hague on the 14th of April 1629, and descended of a rich and respected family. His father, secretary and counselor to the Princess of Orange, and distinguished as a scholar and poet, was not slow in observing the genius of his son, and, full of paternal solicitude for his improvement, became his first instructor. He early taught him music, arithmetic, and geography—​says a writer in the Encyclopædia, from which we select the materials of this notice—​and initiated him, when about thirteen, in the knowledge of mechanics, for which the boy had evinced a surprising aptitude. At fifteen, he received the assistance of a master in mathematics, under whose tuition he made great progress; and at sixteen, was sent to Leyden, to study law under the eminent jurisconsult Vinnius. He did not, however, permit jurisprudence to divert him from his mathematical studies, which he now prosecuted with success as well as afterwards at Breda, at the university of which he resided from 1646 to 1648. In these two cities he had respectively as masters two very able geometers, Francis Schooten and John Pell; and his first essays were so successful, that they attracted the notice of Descartes, to whom the author, in his admiration of that great philosopher, had communicated them. Descartes predicted his future greatness, but did not live to appreciate his discoveries.

On quitting the university, Hüygens, as was then the custom, made the tour of Europe; and after his travels, settled in his native country, where he commenced that series of inventions which have rendered his name so justly celebrated. Between the years 1650–60, his pursuits were chiefly mathematical, resulting in several publications of acknowledged merit. In 1655 he traveled into France, and took the degree of Doctor of Laws at Angers; and in 1658 made known his invention of the pendulum clock. In the following year he published his discoveries relative to the planet Saturn; discoveries which inseparably associate his name with the science of astronomy. Galileo had endeavored to explain some of the appearances exhibited by that planet. He had at first observed two attendant stars, but some time afterwards was surprised to find that they had disappeared. Hüygens, desirous to account for these changes, labored with his brother Constantine to improve the construction of telescopes; and having at length made an instrument of this kind, possessing greater power than any which had yet been contrived, he proceeded to observe the phases of Saturn, and to record all the different aspects of that planet. The results were of equal interest and importance to the science of astronomy. He discovered a satellite of that planet which had hitherto escaped the notice of astronomers; and after a long course of observation, he showed that the planet is surrounded by a solid and permanent ring, which never changes its situation. In 1660 he took a second journey into France; and the year following he visited England, where he communicated the art of polishing glasses for telescopes, and was admitted a member of the Royal Society. The air-pump, then recently invented, he materially improved; and about the same time he also discovered the laws of the collision of elastic bodies, as did afterwards Wallis and Wren, who disputed with him the honor of the discovery. After a stay of some months in England, Hüygens returned to France, where, in 1633, his merit became so conspicuous, that Colbert resolved to bestow on him such a pension as might induce him to establish himself at Paris. This resolution was not carried into effect until 1665, when letters in the king’s name were written to the Hague, where the philosopher then resided, inviting him to repair to Paris, and offering him a considerable pension, with other advantages. Hüygens accepted the proposal; and from 1666 to 1681, settled at Paris, where he was admitted a member of the Royal Academy.

During this period he was chiefly engaged in mathematical pursuits: he wrote and published several works, which were favorably received; and he invented and improved some useful instruments and machines. By continued application, his health began to be impaired, and he at length found it necessary to return to his native country—​a step somewhat accelerated by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, which rendered him liable to molestations, although assured of the fullest privilege to follow his own religious opinions. He accordingly left the French metropolis in 1681; passed the remainder of his days in his own country, and in the pursuit of his favorite subjects; and died at the Hague on the 8th of June 1683, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. ‘This illustrious man,’ continues our authority, ‘gave his whole time to science; he loved a quiet studious life, and found sufficient enjoyment in pursuing curious and useful researches. He was modest, amiable, cheerful, and in all respects as estimable in private life as he was eminent in science. It is not a little singular that the discovery of the real nature, or at least of the true figure, of the luminous ring which encompasses the planet Saturn, should have been made by the same individual who invented the pendulum clock and the micrometer.’ His inventions, however, were more of a mathematical and mechanical than of an astronomical character; and we safely predict, that had Hüygens lived in the present day, he would have risen to superlative fame as a mechanician and engineer.

Dr. Edmund Halley, a name well known in the annals of astronomy, was the only son of a soap-boiler in London, and was born in 1656. He received the rudiments of his education at St. Paul’s School in his native city; and in his seventeenth year, became a commoner in Queen’s College, Oxford. At first he applied himself to the study of the languages and sciences, but at length gave himself wholly up to that of astronomy; and before he had attained his nineteenth year, published a method of finding the aphelia and eccentricity of planets, which supplied a defect in the Keplerian theory of planetary notions. By some observations on a spot on the sun’s disk in the summer of 1676, he established the certainty of the motion of that body round its own axis; and in the same year fixed the longitude of the Cape of Good Hope, by his observations of the occultation of Mars by the Moon. Immediately after, he went to St Helena, where he staid till 1678, completing a catalogue of the fixed stars of the southern hemisphere, which was published in the following year, and gained for its author the appellation of the ‘Southern Tycho.’ In 1679 he was called upon to settle a dispute between the English philosopher Hooke and the celebrated Hevelius, respecting the use of optical instruments in astronomy, and for this purpose went to Dantzic, where with honorable impartiality, he decided against his own countryman. In 1680 he made the tour of Europe, making the acquaintance of Cassini at Paris, and completing his observations from the Royal Observatory of France on the comet which now bears his name. After spending the greater part of 1681 in Italy, he returned to England, and settled at Islington, where he fitted up an observatory for his astronomical researches.

In 1683 he published his Theory of the Variation of the Magnetical Compass, in which he endeavored to account for the phenomenon, by the supposition of the whole globe being one great magnet, having four circulating magnetical poles or points of attraction. His theory, though unsatisfactory, is ingenious. The doctrines of Kepler relative to the motions of the planets next engaged his attention; and finding himself disappointed in his endeavors to obtain information on the subject from Hooke and Sir Christopher Wren, he went to Cambridge, where Newton, then mathematical professor, satisfied his inquiries. In 1691 he was candidate for the Savilian professorship of astronomy at Oxford—​a chair which he would have obtained, had he not refused to profess his thorough belief in all the doctrines of the Christian religion, as taught by the church of England. For the purpose of making further observations relative to the variation of the compass, he set sail on a voyage in 1699 (having obtained the command of a vessel from King William, who was anxious to promote the cause of geographical and astronomical science); and after traversing both hemispheres, and making important observations at numerous stations, he returned to England in September 1700. As the result of his researches, he published a general chart, showing at one view the variation of the compass in all those seas where the English navigators were acquainted; and thus laid the foundation of that department of science which has since received the attention of the greatest philosophers. His next employment, under the patronage of the king, was to observe the tides in the English Channel, with the latitudes and longitudes of the principle headlands; observations which were shortly after published in a large map of the Channel. In 1703, he was engaged by the emperor of Germany to survey the coast of Delmatia; and returning in November of that year to England, he was elected Savilian professor of geometry on the death of Dr. Wallis, and was also honored with the diploma of LL.D.; a title somewhat more in consonance with his pursuits than that of ‘Captain,’ by which he had been styled from the time of his appointment to the command of the surveying vessel furnished him by King William. Dr. Halley now gave his mind more entirely to mathematics, translating into Latin from the Arabic and Greek several treatises, which he afterwards published with supplementary matter, such as those of Appolonius and Serenus.

In 1719 he received the appointment of astronomer-royal at Greenwich, where he afterwards chiefly resided, devoting his time to completing the theory of the motion of the moon, which notwithstanding his age, he pursued with enthusiastic ardor. In 1721 he began his observations, and for the space of eighteen years, scarcely ever missed taking a meridian view of the moon when the weather was favorable. He died at Greenwich in 1742, at the advanced age of eighty-six, having spent one of the most active and useful lives on record. His honors and titles were numerous, but no more than his multifarious occupations and achievements entitled him to. In all he exhibited the same promptness of resolve and incessant assiduity, willing to assist or be assisted; and never deigning it beneath him to confess when ignorant, nor to receive information from any quarter, however humble. Whether as Captain Halley, as secretary to the Royal Society, consulting engineer to the emperor of Germany, or astronomer-royal, he was the same ardent, prompt, and indefatigable laborer. His publications and papers were numerous; he gave important assistance to Dr. D. Gregory in the preparation of the conic sections of Appolonius; and to Halley are we also indebted for the publication of several of the works of Sir Isaac Newton, who had a particular friendship for him, and to whom he frequently communicated his discoveries.

We pass by several authors and observers who contributed during the time of Hüygens and Halley, to the advancement of astronomy, to notice the life of an individual whose career, while beneficial to the science under review, furnishes an ever-memorable instance of the acquirement of knowledge under the most pressing difficulties and obstructions. The most of those to whom we have adverted were men in independent circumstances, or at least so situated as to obtain at once a liberal education and the patronage and support of the great and wealthy. James Ferguson, the ingenious experimental philosopher, mechanist, and astronomer, to whom we allude, had no such advantages. He was born in 1710, a few miles from Keith, a village in Banffshire, in the north of Scotland. His parents were of the poorest order, but honest and religious, and, by toilsome labor in the cultivation of a few rented acres, contrived to rear to manhood a large family of children. Of the manner in which James acquired the rudiments of education, and how he struggled to rise from obscurity to distinction, we have a most interesting account in a memoir by himself, which we cannot do better than quote in an abridged form.

After mentioning how he learned to read with a very scanty aid from an old woman and his father, and that little more than three months’ tuition at the grammar school of Keith was all the education he ever received, he thus proceeds:—​‘My taste for mechanics was soon developed; but as my father could not afford to maintain me while I was in pursuit only of these matters, and as I was rather too young and weak for hard labor, he put me out to a neighbor to keep sheep, which I continued to do for some years; and in that time I began to study the stars in the night. In the daytime I amused myself by making models of mills, spinning-wheels, and such other things as I happened to see. I then went to serve a considerable farmer in the neighborhood, whose name was James Glashan. I found him very kind and indulgent; but he soon observed, that in the evenings, when my work was over, I went into a field with a blanket about me, lay down on my back, and stretched a thread with small beads upon it, at arms-length, between my eye and the stars, sliding the beads upon it till they hid such and such stars from my eye, in order to take their apparent distances from one another; and then, laying the thread down on a paper, I marked the stars thereon by the beads, according to their respective positions, having a candle by me. My master at first laughed at me; but when I explained my meaning to him, he encouraged me to go on; and, that I might make fair copies in the daytime of what I had done in the night he often worked for me himself. I shall always have respect for the memory of that man.

‘I soon after was introduced by a schoolmaster whom I knew to a Mr. Cantley, an ingenious man, who acted as butler to Thomas Grant, Esq., of Achoynaney, and from whom I received some instruction, particularly in decimal arithmetic, algebra, and the first elements of geometry. He also made me a present of ‘Gordon’s Geographical Grammar,’ which at that time was to me a great treasure. There is no figure of a globe in it, although it contains a tolerable description of the globes, and their use. From this description I made a globe in three weeks at my father’s, having turned the ball thereof out of a piece of wood, which ball I covered with paper, and delineated a map of the world upon it, made the meridian ring and horizon of wood, covered them with paper, and graduated them: and I was happy to find that by my globe, which was the first I ever saw, I could solve the problems. But this was not likely to afford me bread; and I could not think of staying with my father, who, I knew full well, could not maintain me in that way, as it could be of no service to him; and he had, without my assistance, hands sufficient for all his work.’

Thinking it would be a very easy matter to attend a mill, and that he would have plenty of leisure for study, poor Ferguson next engaged himself to a miller; but the fellow turned out to be a harsh, ignorant drunkard, who required every moment of the boy’s time, starving and ill-using him besides, so that at the end of a year he had to betake himself to the roof of his father. He next hired himself to a farmer; but here, again, he was worked beyond the strength of his naturally delicate constitution: illness ensued, and he had again to seek the paternal refuge. ‘In order to amuse myself in this low state, I made a wooden clock, the frame of which was also of wood; and it kept time pretty well. The bell on which the hammer struck the hours was the neck of a broken bottle. Having then no idea how any timekeeper could go but by a weight and a line, I wondered how a watch could go in all positions, and was sorry that I had never thought of asking Mr. Cantley, who could very easily have informed me. But happening one day to see a gentleman ride by my father’s house, which was close by a public road, I asked him what o’clock it then was; he looked at his watch, and told me. As he did that with so much good-nature, I begged of him to show me the inside of his watch; and though he was an entire stranger, he immediately opened the watch, and put it into my hands. I saw the spring-box with part of the chain round it, and asked him what it was that made the box turn round; he told me that it was turned round by a steel spring within it. Having then never seen any other spring than that of my father’s gun-lock, I asked how a spring within a box could turn the box so often round as to wind all the chain upon it. He answered that the spring was long and thin, that one end of it was fastened to the axis of the box, and the other end to the inside of the box; that the axis was fixed, and the box was loose upon it. I told him I did not yet thoroughly understand the matter. ‘Well my lad,’ says he, ‘take a long thin piece of whalebone, hold one end of it fast between your finger and thumb, and wind it round your finger, it will then endeavor to unwind itself; and if you fix the other end of it to the inside of a small hoop, and leave it to itself, it will turn the hoop round and round, and wind up a thread tied to the outside of the hoop.’ I thanked the gentleman, and told him I understood the thing very well. I then tried to make a watch with wooden wheels, and made the spring of whalebone; but found that I could not make the watch go when the balance was put on, because the teeth of the wheels were rather too weak to bear the force of a spring sufficient to move the balance, although the wheels would run fast enough when the balance was taken off. I enclosed the whole in a wooden case very little bigger than a breakfast teacup; but a clumsy neighbor one day looking at my watch, happened to let it fall, and turning hastily about to pick it up, set his foot upon it, and crushed it all to pieces; which so provoked my father, that he was almost ready to beat the man, and discouraged me so much, that I never attempted to make such another machine again, especially as I was thoroughly convinced I could never make one that would be of any real use.’

He now turned his attention to the repairing and cleaning of clocks, and in this way managed for some time to make a livelihood. While traveling the country for this purpose, he happened to attract the notice of Sir James Dunbar of Durn, who bestowed upon him the warmest patronage, and requested him to make his mansion his home. While there, geometry, mechanics, and astronomy, alternately engaged him. ‘Two large globular stones stood on the top of his gate; on one of them I painted with oil colors a map of the terrestrial globe, and on the other a map of the celestial, from a planisphere of the stars which I copied on paper from a celestial globe belonging to a neighboring gentleman. The poles of the painted globe stood toward the poles of the heavens; on each the twenty-four hours were placed around the equinoctial, so as to show the time of the day when the sun shone out, by the boundary where the half of the globe at any time enlightened by the sun was parted from the other half in the shade; the enlightened parts of the terrestrial globe answering to the like enlightened parts of the earth at all times; so that, whenever the sun shone on the globe, one might see to what places the sun was then rising, to what places it was setting, and all the places where it was then day or night throughout the earth.’

While enjoying the hospitality of Durn, he was introduced to Lady Dipple, Sir James’ sister, who also extended to him the warmest patronage. This lady, seeing his taste for design, employed him in drawing patterns for needlework on gowns, aprons, etc., recommending his work to her acquaintances, and in a short while created, as it were, a flourishing domestic trade for the young philosopher. On removing to Edinburgh, she advised Furguson to accompany her household, in which he would have the benefit of another year’s hospitality, assured that, in the more extensive field of the metropolis, he would have a much better opportunity of rising into notice. Thither he accordingly went; was introduced into new families of distinction; drew and designed for fancy needlework; and latterly turned his attention to miniature painting, in which he so far excelled, that for six-and-twenty after, it was the business to which he trusted for a maintenance. But while engaged in painting, and enjoying the estimation of those who had been his patrons, ‘I somehow or other took a violent inclination to study anatomy, surgery, and physic, all from reading of books and conversing with gentlemen on these subjects, which for that time put all thoughts of astronomy out of my mind; and I had no inclination to become acquainted with any one there who taught either mathematics or astronomy, for nothing would serve me but to be a doctor.

‘At the end of the second year I left Edinburgh, and went to see my father, thinking myself tolerably well qualified to be a physician in that part of the country, and I carried a good deal of medicines, plasters, etc., thither; but to my mortification, I soon found that all my medical theories and study were of little use in practice. And then finding that very few paid me for the medicines they had, and that I was far from being so successful as I could wish, I quite left off that business, and began to think of taking to the more sure one of drawing pictures again. For this purpose I went to Iverness, where I had eight months’ business. When I was there, I began to think of astronomy again, and was heartily sorry for having quite neglected it at Edinburgh, where I might have improved my knowledge by conversing with those who were very able to assist me.’

Having spent some time in astronomical pursuits at Inverness, Furguson returned to Edinburgh, where he made himself known to Mr. Maclaurin, professor of mathematics, by whom he was kindly patronized, and instructed in points wherein he was deficient. Being greatly delighted with the orrery of the professor, he set about constructing one after a somewhat different principle, and succeeded so well in the undertaking that his patron not only commended it to the young men attending his class, but desired the constructor to read them a lecture on it. This so far encouraged the young philosopher, that he instantly set about the construction of another more complex, and of higher finish. This was purchased by Sir Dudley Rider when Ferguson first went to London; and he mentions in his memoir, that altogether eight orreries were constructed chiefly by his own hand, and that in no two of them was the wheelwork alike. We now follow him to London, whither he went in May 1743.

‘I had a letter of recommendation from Mr. Baron Eldin at Edinburgh to the Right Hon. Stephen Poyntz, Esq., at St. James’, who had been preceptor to his Royal Highness the late Duke of Cumberland, and was well known to be possessed of all the good qualities that can adorn a human mind. To me his goodness was really beyond my power of expression; and I had not been a month in London, till he informed me that he had written to an eminent professor of mathematics to take me into his house, and give me board and lodging, with all proper instructions to qualify me for teaching a mathematical school he (Mr. Poyntz) had in view for me, and would get me settled in it. This I should have liked very well, especially as I began to be tired of drawing pictures; in which, I confess, I never strove to excel, because my mind was still pursuing things more agreeable. He soon after told me he had just received an answer from the mathematical master, desiring I might be sent immediately to him. On hearing this, I told Mr. Poyntz that I did not know how to maintain my wife during the time I must be under the master’s tuition. ‘What!’ says he, ‘are you a married man?’ I told him I had been so ever since May, in the year 1739. He said he was sorry for it, because it quite defeated his scheme, as the master of the school he had in view for me must be a bachelor.

‘He then asked me what business I intended to follow. I answered that I knew of none besides that of drawing pictures. On this he desired me to draw the pictures of his wife and children, that he might show them, in order to recommend me to others; and told me that when I was out of business, I should come to him, and he would find me as much as he could—​and I soon found as much as I could execute; but he died in a few years after, to my inexpressible grief.

‘Soon afterwards it appeared to me, that although the moon goes round the earth, and that the sun is far on the outside of the moon’s orbit, yet the moon’s motion must be in a line—​that is, always concave towards the sun; and upon making a delineation representing her absolute path in the heavens, I found it to be really so. I then made a simple machine for delineating both her path and the earth’s on a long paper laid on the floor. I carried the machine and delineation to the late Martin Felkes, Esq., president of the Royal Society, on a Thursday afternoon. He expressed great satisfaction at seeing it, as it was a new discovery; and took me that evening with him to the Royal Society, where I showed the delineation, and the method of doing it.

‘In the year 1747, I published a dissertation on the phenomena of the harvest moon, with a description of a new orrery, in which there are only four wheels. But having never had grammatical education, nor time to study the rules of just composition, I acknowledge that I was afraid to put it to press; and for the same cause, I ought to have the same fears still. But having the pleasure to find that this my first work was not ill received, I was emboldened to go on in publishing my ‘Astronomy,’ ‘Mechanical Lectures,’ ‘Tables and Tracts relative to several Arts and Sciences,’ a small treatise on ‘Electricity,’ and ‘Select Mechanical Exercises.’

‘In the year 1748, I ventured to read lectures on the eclipse of the sun that fell on the 14th of July in that year. Afterwards I began to read astronomical lectures on an orrery which I made, and of which the figures of all the wheelwork are contained in the 6th and 7th plates of ‘Mechanical Exercises.’ I next began to make an apparatus for lectures on mechanics, and gradually increased the apparatus for other parts of experimental philosophy, buying from others what I could not make for myself. I then entirely left off drawing pictures, and employed myself in the much pleasanter business of reading lectures on mechanics, hydrostatics, hydraulics, pneumatics, electricity, and astronomy; in all which my encouragement has been greater than I could have expected.’

To this narrative we shall add the few particulars which are necessary to complete the view of Ferguson’s life and character. It was through the zeal of George III in behalf of science, that Ferguson was honored with the royal bounty of £50 a-year. His majesty had attended some of the lectures of the ingenious astronomer, and often, after his accession, sent for him to converse upon scientific topics. He had the extraordinary honor of being elected a member of the Royal Society, without paying either the initiatory or the annual fees, which were dispensed with in his case, from a supposition of his being too poor to pay them without inconvenience. To the astonishment of all who knew him, it was discovered, after his death, that he was possessed of considerable wealth—​about £6000. ‘Ferguson,’ says Charles Hutton in his Mathematical Dictionary, ‘must be allowed to have been a very uncommon genius, especially in mechanical contrivances and inventions, for he constructed many machines himself in a very neat manner. He had also a good taste in astronomy, as well as in natural and experimental philosophy, and was possessed of a happy manner of explaining himself in a clear, easy, and familiar way.

His general mathematical knowledge, however, was little or nothing. Of algebra he understood little more than the notation; and he has often told me that he could never demonstrate one proposition in Euclid’s Elements; his constant method being to satisfy himself as to the truth of any problem with a measurement by scale and compasses.’ He was a man of very clear judgment in everything that he professed, and of unwearied application to study: benevolent, meek, and innocent in his manners as a child: humble, courteous, and communicative: instead of pedantry, philosophy seemed to produce in him only diffidence and urbanity. After a long and useful life, worn out with study, age, and infirmities, he died November 16, 1776.

The science of astronomy, which, from the time of Copernicus, had been gradually improving, through the laborious exertions of Tycho Brahè, Galileo, Kepler, Hüygens, Newton, Halley, Delisle, Lalande, and other eminent observers of the starry firmament, was considerably advanced by the discoveries of Herschel, whose biography now comes under our notice.

William Herschel was born at Hanover on the 15th of November 1738. He was the second of four sons, all of whom were brought up to their father’s profession, which was that of a musician. Having at an early age shown a peculiar taste for intellectual pursuits, his father provided him with a tutor, who instructed him in the rudiments of logic, ethics, and metaphysics, in which abstract studies he made considerable progress. Owing, however, to the circumscribed means of his parents, and certain untoward circumstances, these intellectual pursuits were soon interrupted, and at the age of fourteen he was placed in the band of the Hanoverian regiment of guards, a detachment of which he accompanied to England about the year 1757 or 1759. His father came with him to England, but after the lapse of a few months, he returned home, leaving his son, in conformity with his own wish, to try his fortune in Great Britain—​the adopted home of many an ingenious foreigner. How or when he left the regimental band in which he had been engaged, we are not informed. After struggling with innumerable difficulties, and no doubt embarrassed by his comparative ignorance of the English tongue, he had the good fortune to attract the notice of the Earl of Darlington, who engaged him to superintend and instruct a military hand at the time forming for the Durham militia. After fulfilling this engagement, he passed several years in Yorkshire, in the capacity of teacher of music. He gave lessons to pupils in the principal towns, and officiated as leader in oratorios or concerts of sacred music—​a kind of employment in which the Germans are eminently skilled, from their love of musical performances. Herschel, however, while thus engaged in earning an honorable livelihood, did not allow his professional pursuits to engross all his thoughts. He sedulously devoted his leisure hours in improving his knowledge of the English and Italian languages, and in instructing himself in Latin, as well as a little Greek. At this period he probably looked to these attainments principally with a view to the advantage he might derive from them in the prosecution of his professional studies; and it was no doubt with this view also that he afterwards applied himself to the perusal of Dr. Robert Smith’s ‘Treatise on Harmonics’—​one of the most profound works on the science of music which then existed in the English language. But the acquaintance he formed with this work was destined ere long to change altogether the character of his pursuits. He soon found that it was necessary to make himself a mathematician before he could make much progress in following Dr. Smith’s demonstrations. He now, therefore, turned with his characteristic alacrity and resolution to the new study to which his attention was thus directed; and it was not long before he became so attached to it, that almost all the other pursuits of his leisure hours were laid aside for its sake.

Through the interest and good offices of a Mr. Bates, to whom the merits of Herschel had become known, he was, about the close of 1765, appointed to the situation of church-organist at Halifax. Next year, having gone with his elder brother to fulfill a short engagement at Bath, he gave so much satisfaction by his performances, that he was appointed organist in the Octagon chapel of that city, upon which he went to reside there. The place which he now held was one of some value; and from the opportunities which he enjoyed, besides, of adding to its emoluments by engagements at the rooms, the theatre, and private concerts, as well as by taking pupils, he had the certain prospect of deriving a good income from his profession, if he had made that his only or his chief object. This accession of employment did not by any means abate his propensity to study for mental improvement. Frequently, after the fatigue of twelve or fourteen hours occupied in musical performances, he sought relaxation, as he considered it, in extending his knowledge of the pure and mixed mathematics. In this manner he obtained a competent knowledge of geometry, and found himself in a condition to proceed to the study of the different branches of physical science which depend upon the mathematics. Among the first of these latter that attracted his attention, were the kindred departments of astronomy and optics. Some discoveries about this time made in astronomy awakened his curiosity, and to this science he now directed his investigations at his intervals of leisure. Being anxious to observe some of those wonders in the planetary system of which he had read, he borrowed from a neighbor a two-feet Gregorian telescope, which delighted him so much, that he forthwith commissioned one of larger dimensions from London. The price of such an instrument, he was vexed to find, exceeded both his calculations and his means; but though chagrined, he was not discouraged; he immediately resolved to attempt with his own hand the construction of a telescope equally powerful with that which he was unable to purchase; and in this, after repeated disappointments, which served only to stimulate his exertions, he finally succeeded.

Herschel was now on the path in which his genius was calculated to shine. In the year 1774, he had the inexpressible pleasure of beholding the planet Saturn through a five-feet Newtonian reflector, made by his own hands. This was the beginning of a long and brilliant course of triumphs in the same walk of art, and also in that of astronomical discovery. Herschel now became so much more ardently attached to his philosophical pursuits, that, regardless of the sacrifices of emolument he was making, he began gradually to limit his professional engagements and the number of his pupils. Meanwhile, he continued to employ his leisure in the fabrication of still more powerful instruments than the one he first constructed; and in no long time he produced telescopes of from seven to twenty feet focal distance. In fashioning the mirrors for these instruments, his perseverance was indefatigable. For his seven-feet reflector, it is asserted that he actually finished and made trial of no fewer than two hundred mirrors before he found one that satisfied him. When he sat down to prepare a mirror, his practice was to work at it for twelve or fourteen hours, without quitting his occupation for a moment. He would not even take his hand from what he was about, to help himself to food; and the little that he ate on such occasions was put into his mouth by his sister. He gave the mirror its proper shape more by a natural tact than by rule; and when his hand was once in, as the phrase is, he was afraid that the perfection of the finish might be impaired by the least intermission of his labors.

It was on the 13th of March, 1781, that Herschel made the discovery to which he owes, perhaps, most of his popular reputation. He had been engaged for nearly a year and a-half in making a regular survey of the heavens, when, on the evening of the day that has been mentioned, having turned his telescope—​an excellent seven-feet reflector, of his own constructing—​to a particular part of the sky, he observed among the other stars, one which seemed to shine with a more steady radiance than those around it; and, on account of that, and some other peculiarities in its appearance, which excited his suspicion, he determined to observe it more narrowly. On reverting to it after some hours, he was a good deal surprised to find that it had perceptibly changed its place—​a fact, which, the next day, became still more indisputable. At first he was somewhat in doubt whether or not it was the same star, which he had seen on these different occasions; but after continuing these observations for a few days longer, all uncertainty upon that head vanished. He now communicated what he had observed to the royal astronomer, Dr. Maskelyne, who concluded that the luminary could be nothing else than a new comet. Continued observation of it, however, for a few months, dissipated this error; and it became evident that it was, in reality, a hitherto undiscovered planet.

This new world, so unexpectedly found to form a part of the system to which our own belongs, received from Herschel the name of Georgium Sidus, or Georgian Star, in honor of the king of England; but by continental astronomers, it has been more generally called either Herschel, after its discoverer, or Uranus. He afterwards discovered, successively, no fewer than six satellites or moons, belonging to his new planet.

The anouncement of the discovery of the Georgium Sidus, at once made Herschel’s name universally known. In the course of a few months the king bestowed upon him a pension of £300 a-year, to enable him entirely to relinquish his engagements at Bath; and upon this, he came to reside at Slough, near Windsor. He now devoted himself entirely to science, and the constructing of telescopes, and observations of the heavens, continued to form the occupations of the remainder of his life.

Astronomy is indebted to him for many more most interesting discoveries besides the celebrated one of which we have just given an account, as well as for a variety of speculations of the most ingenious, original, and profound character. But of these we cannot here attempt any detail.

He also introduced some important improvements into the construction of the reflecting telescope, besides continuing to fabricate that instrument of dimensions greatly exceeding any that he had formerly attempted, with powers surpassing, in nearly a corresponding degree, what had ever been before obtained. The largest telescope which he had ever made was his famous one of forty feet long, which he erected at Slough, for the king.

It was begun about the end of the year 1785, and on the 28th of August 1789 the enormous tube was poised on the complicated but ingeniously-contrived mechanism by which its movements were to be regulated, and ready for use. On the same day a new satellite of Saturn was detected by it, being the sixth that had been observed attendant on that planet. A seventh was afterward discovered, by means of the same instrument. This telescope has since been taken down, and replaced by another of only half the length, constructed by the distinguished son of the subject of our present sketch.

So extraordinary was the ardor of this great astronomer in the study of his favorite science, that for many years, it has been asserted, he never was in bed at any hour during which the stars were visible, and he made almost all his observations, whatever the season of the year, not under cover, but in his garden, in the open air—​and generally without an attendant. By these investigations Herschel became acquainted with the character of the more distant stars, upon which he wrote a variety of papers. In 1802, he presented to the Royal Society a catalogue of five thousand new nebulæ, nebulous stars, planetary nebulæ, and clusters of stars; thus opening up a boundless field of research, and making the world aware of the sublime truth of there being an infinitude of heavenly bodies far beyond the reach of ordinary vision, and performing in their appointed places the offices of suns to unseen systems of planets.

These discoveries established Herschel’s claims to rank amongst the most eminent astronomers of the age, and amply merited the distinctions conferred upon him by learned bodies and the reigning prince. In 1816, George IV, then prince regent, invested him with the Hanoverian and Guelphic order of knighthood. He was now, from being originally a poor lad in a regimental band, rewarded for his long course of honorable exertion in the cause of science. Herschel (now Sir William) did not relinquish his astronomical observations until within a few years of his death, which took place on the 23d of August, 1822, when he had attained the age of eighty-three. He died full of years and honors, bequeathing a large fortune, and leaving a family which has inherited his genius.

The Spanish colonies of South America remained for three centuries in quiet submission to the mother country, if we except the desperate attempt of the Peruvian Indians, under Tupac Amaru, to throw off the yoke of their oppressors. Never were despotism, avarice and slavish obsequiousness to power, more thoroughly displayed than in Spanish America, under the government of the viceroys and captains-general, who, with all the principal officers of the viceroyal court, were sent to America from Madrid, and who, without being under any efficient responsibility, administered their authority with every species of tyranny and venality. Justice was bought and sold, and the most important legal decisions were made in favor of the highest bidder. The mercantile policy of the parent country was equally despotic and rapacious. The establishment of manufactures was not permitted, while cargoes of Spanish commodities, the refuse of the shops, were forced, in barter for silver and gold, upon a half-civilized people, who neither wanted nor could possibly use them. Foreign commerce was interdicted on pain of death; all social improvement was suppressed; and to prevent the inhabitants from knowing the extent of their degradation, all intercourse whatever was strictly forbidden with any country or people, besides Spain and Spaniards, and allowed even with them under many restrictions. Superstition and ignorance were upheld as the surest support of the colonial system; so that, previous to 1810, the whole continent, from Lima to Monte Video, contained but one wretched printing-press, and that in the hands of the monks, who consigned to the dungeons of the Inquisition every man who possessed a prohibited book.

The example of the revolt of the British North American colonies had a slow effect in propagating revolutionary ideas in the south; and the usurpation of the crown of Spain by Napoleon precipitated those movements which resulted, after a bloody struggle, in wresting from the dominion of Spain the whole of her continental possessions in America. In this momentous contest, Simon Bolivar bore the most conspicuous part, and his life comprises the substance of the history of the country in which his military exploits were performed during its most eventful period.

This celebrated man was born in the city of Caraccas, in July, 1783. He belonged to a family of distinction, and was one of the few natives of the Spanish colonies who were permitted to visit Europe. After finishing his studies at Madrid, he went to France, and during his stay at Paris rendered himself an acceptable guest in its social circles, by the amenity of his manners, and his other personal recommendations. In the midst, however, of all the seductions of that gay capital, his sanguine temper and ardent imagination anticipated the task which the future fortunes of his country might impose upon him, and even in his twenty-third year he is said to have contemplated the establishment of her independence. While at Paris his favorite occupation was the study of those branches of science which contribute to the formation of the character of a warrior and statesman. Humboldt and Bonpland were his intimate friends, and accompanied him in his excursions in France; nor did he think his travels finished till he had visited England, Italy, and a part of Germany. On his return to Madrid, he was married, and shortly afterwards returned to America, where he arrived in 1810, at the very moment when his countrymen were about to unfurl the standard of independence. On his passage homeward, he visited the United States, where he gathered some political knowledge which subsequent events rendered highly useful to him.

The revolution began in Venezuela on Good Friday, April 19, 1810, when, by a popular movement, the captain-general of Caraccas was arrested and deposed, and a congress convened to organize a new government. The talents and acquirements of Bolivar pointed him out as the best qualified person to be placed at the helm; but he disapproved of the system adopted by the congress, and refused a diplomatic mission to England. He even declined any connection with the government, though he continued a staunch friend to the cause of independence. But at length he consented to proceed to England, where he solicited the British cabinet in vain to espouse the cause of the revolution. Finding them resolved to maintain a strict neutrality, he returned to Caraccas after a short stay. In the mean time, the declaration of independence was boldly maintained by military force. Miranda was appointed commander-in-chief. Bolivar took the post of colonel in the army, and governor of Puerto Cabello, the strongest place in Venezuela.

Success attended the arms of the patriots till 1812, when a remarkable event caused them the most serious reverses. In March of that year a violent earthquake devastated the whole province, and among other places totally destroyed the city of Caraccas, with all its magazines and munitions of war. This dreadful calamity, in which twenty thousand persons perished, happened, by a most remarkable coincidence, on the anniversary of the very day in which the revolution had broken out, two years before. The priesthood, who, as a body, were devoted to the royal interest, eagerly seized upon this circumstance. In their hands, the earthquake became the token of the Divine wrath against the revolutionary party. The superstitious multitude were easily deluded and terrified with such representations and denunciations. Priests, monks, and friars, were stationed in the streets, vociferating in the midst of credulous throngs of people trembling with fear, while the royalist commanders improved the occasion by overrunning one district after another. Bolivar was compelled to evacuate Puerto Cabello. Miranda’s conduct having become suspicious, he was arrested by the patriot leaders and delivered up to the Spanish commander, who sent him to Spain, where he died in a dungeon. Bolivar is supposed to have had a share in this transaction, in consequence of which he has been severely censured. There were some circumstances, however, which appeared to justify a suspicion that Miranda was engaged in a hostile plot with the British cabinet.

Bolivar was now entrusted with the command of an army of six thousand men, which he led across the mountains to the further extremity of New Granada. In the hostilities of this period, deeds of the most revolting ferocity were perpetrated by the royalist troops, and the whole country was reduced to a frightful state of misery. On the most trivial pretexts, old men, women and children, were arrested and massacred as rebels. Friars and military butchers reigned triumphant. One of the Spanish officers, named Suasola, cut off the ears of a great number of patriots, and had them stuck in the caps of his soldiers for cockades. Bolivar, who had hitherto conducted the war with great forbearance, was inflamed with indignation at these cruelties; he swore to avenge his countrymen, and declared that every royalist who fell into his hands should be consigned to the vengeance of his soldiery. But this spirit of inexorable justice and retaliation ill accorded with Bolivar’s character, and it was exercised only on one occasion, when eight hundred Spaniards were shot. Afterwards it was formally announced by Bolivar, that ‘no Spaniard shall be put to death except in battle. The war of death shall cease.’

The royalists, who, by the practice of the most bloody and ferocious atrocities, had gained possession of nearly the whole country, now began to give way before the arms of Bolivar. Passing from one victory to another, he drove the enemy from every post, and on the 4th of August, 1814, made his triumphant entry into the renovated city of Caraccas. The enthusiasm and joy of the people exceeded all bounds, and this was certainly the most brilliant day in his whole career. Greeted by the acclamations of thousands of the inhabitants, artillery, bells and music, the Liberator was drawn into the city in a triumphal car by twelve beautiful young ladies, of the first families of the capital, dressed in white, and adorned with the patriot colors, while others crowned him with laurel, and strewed his way with flowers. All the prisons were thrown open, and hundreds who had been suffering for political opinions came forth, pale and emaciated, to thank him for their liberation. The royalists throughout the province capitulated, and the triumph of the patriots was complete.

Bolivar was now constituted dictator, and entrusted with unlimited power. This measure was prompted by the sentiments of enthusiasm and gratitude during the first moments of exultation in the people; but, as is the case in all infant republics, they soon began to give manifestations of a jealousy for that liberty which had cost them such sacrifices. The power of the dictator, who delegated his authority to his inferior officers, by whom it was frequently abused, redoubled their apprehensions. Suspicions arose, that the primary object of Bolivar was his own aggrandisement. In consequence of this, on the 2d of January 1814, he made a formal tender of his resignation. This lulled the suspicions of the people, and the royalists having begun to rally and arm their negro slaves, he was solicited to retain the dictatorship. The war was now renewed, and many battles were fought. On the 14th of June, 1814, Bolivar was defeated at La Puerta, with the loss of fifteen hundred men; and again, on the 17th of August, near his own estate of San Mateo, where the negro leader Boves, with a squadron of cavalry named the ‘infernal division,’ with black crape on their lances, rushing with hideous shouts from an ambush, scattered his remaining forces, and would have made him a prisoner but for the fleetness of his horse. His cousin, Ribas, was taken and shot, and his head set upon the wall of Caraccas. Bolivar’s beautiful family mansion was burned to the ground, and he was compelled, in September, to leave the royalists again in complete possession of all Venezuela, while thousands of the patriot army deserted to their ranks.

In spite of these reverses, we find him, in December of the same year, at the head of two thousand men, marching upon the city of Bogota, which he stormed and captured. But other circumstances having caused him to despair of any permanent success against the Spaniards at that time, he left the country in May 1815, and retired to Jamaica. The war in Europe being brought to a close, the Spanish government were enabled to send an army of twelve thousand men, under General Morillo, to Venezuela and New Granada. This commander overran both provinces, and executed two thousand of the inhabitants. While Bolivar resided at Kingston, in Jamaica, he employed himself in writing a defense of his conduct in the civil war of New Granada, and issued several spirited exhortations to the patriots, for which his assassination was attempted by the royalist party. A Spaniard, stimulated by a bribe of fifty thousand dollars and a promise of perfect absolution by the church, ventured upon this undertaking. He obtained admission into Bolivar’s apartment, and stabbed to the heart his secretary, who, by chance, was lying in the general’s hammock.

From Jamaica, Bolivar proceeded to Hayti, where he raised a force of blacks and patriot emigrants, with which he landed in Cumana, in July, 1816. But, at Ocumare, he was surrounded by the royalists, defeated with great slaughter, and again expelled from the country. A few months afterwards, he landed once more upon the continent, and, after a battle of three days, completely routed the army of Morillo. This success reinstated him in the office of captain-general, and supreme head, and he followed up this advantage by other victories over the royalists. On the 15th of February, 1819, the congress of the Venezuelan republic was installed at Angostura, when Bolivar submitted the plan of a republican constitution, and formally laid down his authority. A strong representation of the exigencies of the times was again pressed upon him and became his inducement to resume it. In the following summer he undertook an expedition across the Cordilleras. Fatigue and privations of every kind were endured with exemplary fortitude in the advance of the army through this wild, precipitous and barren region, where they lost their artillery and most of their equipments. On the heights of Tunja, they found a Spanish army of three thousand five hundred men, whom they instantly attacked and defeated. This, and a subsequent victory at Boyaca, compelled the Spanish commander-in-chief, Barreyro, to surrender the remnant of his army. Samano, the Spanish viceroy, fled from Bogota, leaving in the treasury a million of dollars behind him; and the deliverance of New Granada was complete.

The immediate consequence of this success was the union of the two provinces of Venezuela and New Granada, under the title of the Republic of Columbia, and Bolivar was appointed president, in 1819. It would much exceed our limits to relate all the military events which followed till the final expulsion of the Spanish armies from the country. Peru had now revolted, and solicited the aid of the Columbians. Bolivar marched an army into that country in 1822, drove the royalists from Lima, and was appointed dictator by the Peruvian congress. On the 6th of August, 1824, he gained the important victory of Junin, and the Peruvian congress shortly after tendered him a present of a million of dollars, which he refused. The royalists being again defeated at Ayacucho, by General Sucre, on the 9th of December, 1824, the war of Spanish American independence was finally closed, after one hundred thousand lives had been sacrificed. Bolivar resigned the dictatorship of Peru in the following February, and in his tour through the country, witnessed one uninterrupted scene of triumph and extravagant exultation,—​of dinners, balls, bull-fights, illuminations, triumphal arches and processions. A sumptuous banquet was given on the summit of the famous mountain of Potosi, and the Liberator, in the enthusiasm excited by the excessive adulation which he received, exclaimed on that occasion, ‘The value of all the riches that are buried in the Andes beneath my feet is nothing compared to the glory of having borne the standard of independence from the sultry banks of the Oronoco, to fix it on the frozen peak of this mountain, whose wealth has excited the envy and astonishment of the world.’

A new republic, formed out of the conquered provinces, was now constituted, and named, from the Liberator, Bolivia. From this republic he received a gift of a million of dollars, on condition that the money should be appropriated to the liberation of negro slaves in that territory. At the request of the congress, he framed a scheme of government, known as the ‘Bolivian code.’ This was adopted both in Bolivia and by the congress of Lima, where Bolivar was made president. On the 22d of June, 1826, a scheme projected by him for a grand congress of the Spanish American republics, was carried into effect, and this meeting, consisting of deputies from Columbia, Mexico, Guatimala, Peru and Bolivia, was convened at Panama. The main object of this congress was to establish an annual convention of state representatives, to discuss diplomatic affairs, decide international disputes, promote liberal principles, and insure a union of strength in repelling any foreign attack. This was a noble idea, but too vast an undertaking for the means of performance which actually existed within the control of the Liberator, and it led to no great practical results.

On the return of Bolivar to Columbia, he found two thirds of the republic in a state of insurrection. Great dissatisfaction existed in Venezuela with the central government, and the inhabitants, headed by Paez, a mulatto general, rose and declared themselves in favor of a federal system. Bolivar, having reached Bogota, the capital, assumed extraordinary powers, being authorized to take that step by the constitution, in its provisions for cases of rebellion. He then proceeded to Venezuela; but, instead of punishing the insurgents, he announced a general amnesty, and confirmed Paez in the general command which he had assumed. This led to strong suspicions that the insurrection had been instigated by Bolivar, in order to afford a pretext for assuming the dictatorship, and that he and Paez had acted with a collusive understanding. The truth, on this subject, has never yet been clearly revealed. The presence of Bolivar quieted the commotion, as, in spite of the suspicions which rested upon him, his popularity was still very great. He addressed a letter to the senate of Columbia, disclaiming all ambitious designs, and offering his resignation. This proposal caused violent debates in the congress, and many members voted to accept it; but a majority were in favor of continuing him in office.

At a congress held at Ocana, in March, 1828, Bolivar assumed more of an anti-republican tone, and recommended strengthening the executive power. Many of his adherents, in which the soldiery were included, seconded his views, and declared that the people were not prepared to appreciate the excellence of institutions purely republican; a fact of which there can be little doubt. They carried this doctrine, however, to an unwarrantable extreme, by insisting that the president should be intrusted with absolute discretionary power. This proposition was indignantly rejected by a majority of the congress, and the partisans of Bolivar vacated their seats; in consequence of which, that body was left without a quorum, and dissolved. The city of Bogota then took the matter into its own hands, and conferred upon Bolivar the title of Supreme Chief of Columbia, with absolute power to regulate all the affairs of government. His immediate concurrence in this illegal and revolutionary measure has been deemed a sufficient proof that it was brought about by his instigation. On the 20th of June, 1829, he entered that city in magnificent state, and assumed his authority. These proceedings could not but lead to violent measures. An attempt was soon made to assassinate the dictator. Several persons broke into his chamber at midnight, and shot two officers of the staff, who were with him; Bolivar himself only escaped by leaping out of the window and lying concealed under a bridge. Santander, the vice-president, and several officers of the army, were tried and convicted of being implicated in this conspiracy. The former was sentenced to death, but Bolivar was satisfied with banishing him from Columbia.

The whole country became rent with factions, commotions and rebellion. The popularity of the Liberator was gone, and his authority was disclaimed in almost every quarter. The events which ensued do not require to be specified here, as they are nothing more than a repetition of what had been acted over many times before. At length, Bolivar, finding his influence at an end, and his health and spirits broken, determined to withdraw from public life, take leave of the country, and retire to Europe. At a general convention at Bogota, in January, 1830, he resigned his authority for the last time, and rejected many entreaties to resume it. He withdrew to the neighborhood of Carthagena, where he spent nearly two years in retirement, when, finding his end approaching, he issued his farewell address to the people of Columbia, in the following words:—

‘Columbians,—​I have unceasingly and disinterestedly exerted my energies for your welfare. I have abandoned my fortune and my personal tranquillity in your cause. I am the victim of my persecutors, who have now conducted me to my grave: but I pardon them. Columbians, I leave you. My last prayers are offered up for the tranquillity of my country; and if my death will contribute to this desirable end, by extinguishing your factions, I shall descend with feelings of contentment into the tomb that is soon to receive me.’ A week afterwards, he breathed his last, at San Pedro, near Carthagena, on the 17th of December, 1831, at the age of forty-eight.

His death appears to have afflicted his countrymen with the deepest sorrow and remorse. In an instant they forgot the jealousies and suspicions which had filled their breasts, with regard to their great chief, and, by a sudden revulsion of feeling, they indulged in the most bitter self-reproach at the reflection, that the man who had devoted his fortune and his life to the liberation and welfare of his country, had sunk under their ungenerous reproaches, and died of a broken heart, the victim of national ingratitude. Almost every town in Columbia paid honors to his memory by orations, funeral processions, and other demonstrations of grief and respect.

The fortunes of this eminent man were most singular. During one period his was regarded as one of the greatest characters of modern times. At the present moment he is almost forgotten; and another generation may witness the revival of his fame. In the early part of his career he was believed to be a disinterested patriot; at the close he had totally lost the confidence of his countrymen, and he died tainted with the suspicion of intriguing with the French government to subjugate the country by European arms and establish a monarchy. There are some acts of his life which have an equivocal character; but, judging of his whole conduct from such evidence as is within our reach, we are compelled to pronounce his acquittal of the charge of entertaining designs hostile to the liberties of his country. Bolivar is not to be judged by the standard which we apply to the character and merits of Washington. The cool-tempered, orderly, intelligent, and well educated North Americans, who achieved their independence with a moderation, sobriety and self-restraint, which drew forth the applause and admiration of the world, were a very different race from the heterogeneous population of Columbia, ignorant, insubordinate, superstitious, fanatical, ferocious, little advanced in civilization, and subject to all the sudden impulses of a rash and fiery southern temper. It was impossible to govern such men, amid the turbulence of jealous factions, by the weak instrument of a written constitution.

The proofs of Bolivar’s disinterestedness are very strong. He sacrificed a large fortune in the cause of his country; and had many opportunities of acquiring enormous wealth, all of which he neglected. As a military commander, he is entitled to high praise. Though often defeated, his perseverance and fortitude, in rising superior to every obstacle, are everywhere conspicuous. The difficulties of marshalling, disciplining, and leading an army to battle during the revolution of Columbia, are hardly to be conceived. Bolivar’s troops often consisted chiefly of desperate adventurers, eager only for pay and plunder; ragged Creoles, Indians, naked negroes, and cavalry of half-savage Llaneros mounted on wild horses. Whole regiments often deserted from one side to the other, and back again, according to the chance of success.

The fatigues, cares and anxieties to which he was constantly exposed during a most eventful career of nearly twenty years, were strongly marked in his countenance, and at forty-five he had the appearance of a man of sixty. He was capable of enduring the most severe labor; was a remarkably bold horseman, and was fond of dancing in his spurs. He was abstemious in personal matters, but hospitable and highly munificent in giving entertainments. His manners were easy and dignified, and he was gifted with an extraordinary faculty of prompt repartee in conversation. In one instance, he was known to give seventeen unpremeditated answers in succession, each of which, if prepared by deliberate study, would have been admired for its happy adaptation to the subject and the occasion. In proposing a toast, in returning thanks, or in speaking impromptu on any casual subject, he never was surpassed.

This singular individual, named José Gaspar Rodriguez Francia, was born near Assumpcion, in Paraguay, in the year 1757. His father was either a Frenchman or a Portuguese, and his mother a Paraguay Creole.

He was one of several children. At the university of Cordova, in Tucuman, he received such an education as a classical seminary in the interior of South America could furnish. Being a person of a shrewd, saturnine disposition, and retired, studious habits, he contrived, by close application, to acquire a degree of knowledge seldom placed within the reach of a student whose pursuits were watched by the jealous ecclesiastics of that region. In addition to the branches of education common in the university, he contrived to acquire some knowledge of algebra, geometry and Greek. Having prosecuted his studies through the ordinary term, he returned to Paraguay, and entered into practice as a lawyer. His professional reputation, in that country where justice was regularly bought and sold, was not only unsullied by venality, but conspicuous for rectitude. The following anecdote of his uprightness has been related by a writer no way disposed to be unduly partial to the subject of it.

Francia had an acquaintance in Assumpcion, of the name of Domingo Rodriguez. This man had cast a longing eye upon a certain Naboth’s vineyard; and this Naboth, named Estanislao Machain, was Francia’s open enemy. Rodriguez, never doubting that the young advocate, like other lawyers, would undertake an unrighteous cause for a suitable reward, went to him, offered a liberal retaining fee, and directed him to institute a suit in law, for the recovery of the estate in question. Francia saw at once that the pretensions were founded in injustice and fraud; and he not only refused to act as his counsel, but plainly told Rodriguez, that, much as he disliked his antagonist, Machain, yet if he persisted in his iniquitous suit, he would himself undertake the cause of the injured party. Covetousness, however, is not so easily driven from its purpose. Rodriguez persisted, and, as he was a man of great fortune, the suit appeared to be going against Machain and his estate. At this critical stage of the affair, the slave who attended the door of the luckless Machain, was astonished, one evening, to see Francia present himself before it, wrapped up in his cloak. Knowing that the doctor and his master, like Montague and Capulet, were ‘smoke in each other’s eyes,’ he refused him admittance, and ran to inform his master, of this strange and unexpected visit. Machain, no less struck by the circumstance than his slave, for some time hesitated, but at length determined to admit his old enemy. In walked the silent visitor to Machain’s chamber, and spread the papers connected with the law-case upon the table.

‘Machain,’ said Francia, ‘you know I am your enemy. But I know that my friend Rodriguez meditates, and will certainly, unless I interfere, carry on against you an act of gross and lawless aggression. I have come to offer my service in your defense.’ The astonished man could scarcely credit his senses; but he poured forth his expressions of gratitude in terms of thankful acquiescence.

Pleas, it would appear, are made in that country by writing. The first paper sent into court confounded the adverse counsel, and staggered the judge, who was in their interest. ‘My friend,’ said that functionary to the leading advocate for the plaintiff, ‘I cannot proceed in this matter, unless you bribe Dr. Francia to be silent.’ ‘I will try,’ was the answer; and the advocate went to him with a hundred doubloons. He offered them as a bribe to Francia, to let the matter slip; and more surely to gain his consent, he advised him that this was done at the suggestion of the judge himself.

‘Leave my house, with your vile proposals and contemptible gold!’ was the indignant answer; amd the menial tool of the unjust judge waited for no further dismissal. Francia, putting on his capote, hurried at once to the residence of that magistrate. ‘Sir,’ said he, after mentioning the attempt to bribe him, ‘you are a disgrace to law, and a blot upon justice. You are, moreover, completely in my power; and unless tomorrow you pronounce a decision in favor of my client, I will make your seat upon the bench too hot for you; and the insignia of your judicial office shall become the emblems of your shame.’ The morrow did not fail to bring a decision in favor of Francia’s client. The Judge lost his character, and the young doctor’s fame resounded far and wide.

His uncommon reputation for integrity, a more than common acuteness and learning in his profession, profound knowledge of the foibles and peculiarities of his countrymen, together with his fame for a mysterious familiarity with the occult sciences, soon caused Dr. Francia to be regarded as a most remarkable personage. In the deplorable state of ignorance then existing in South America, it was a wonderful faculty that enabled a man to multiply and substract the letters of the alphabet; to read a language written in strange characters; to measure an angle, and ascertain the height of a mountain with a theodolite. Francia, celebrated for universal knowledge, stood upon high vantage-ground, and in a great public exigence could not fail to be looked upon as one of the individuals destined to take the lead in public affairs.

When the province of La Plata revolted from Spain, the people of Paraguay refused to acknowledge the authority of the former government; in consequence of which an army was sent from Buenos Ayres, in 1810, under Gen. Belgrano, to reduce Paraguay. He was defeated and driven back. The next year a revolutionary government was established, and Francia, who had previously been in public office as a member of the municipal council and mayor of the capital, Assumpcion, was appointed secretary of the congress. Everything was in confusion; the army, as is usual on such occasions, seemed inclined to take the lead, and for some time, faction and terror alone prevailed; but Francia, at this critical moment, obtained an ascendancy which he never afterwards lost. His superior talents, address and information were continually in requisition and made him indispensable on all occasions. Nothing of any importance could be transacted without him. The members of the congress were entirely inexperienced in political matters, and grossly illiterate. Such a body attempted to found a republic, and we are told that their constitution was compiled from passages in Rollin’s Ancient History!

The business proceeded with small success under such auspices. Intrigues, cabals and factions disgusted Francia to such a degree that he resigned his office, and retired to his country seat. The reader may wish for a picture of so remarkable a man as this Dionysius, of the western world, and we will copy the following description of him at the period of his retirement. It is drawn by an English merchant, who resided in Paraguay at that time:

‘On one of those lovely evenings in Paraguay, after the south-west wind had both cleared and cooled the air, I was drawn, in my pursuit of game, into a peaceful valley, remarkable for its combination of all the striking features of the scenery of the country. Suddenly I came upon a neat and unpretending cottage. Up rose a partridge; I fired, and the bird came to the ground. A voice from behind called out, ‘Buen tiro.’—​‘a good shot.’ I turned round, and beheld a gentleman of about fifty years of age, dressed in a suit of black, with a large scarlet capote, or cloak, thrown over his shoulders. He had a mate-cup in one hand, a cigar in the other; and a little urchin of a negro, with his arms crossed, was in attendance by the gentleman’s side. The stranger’s countenance was dark, and his black eyes were very penetrating; while his jet hair, combed back from a bold forehead, and hanging in natural ringlets over his shoulders, gave him a dignified and striking air. He wore on his shoes large golden buckles, and at the knees of his breeches the same.

‘In exercise of the primitive and simple hospitality common in the country, I was invited to sit down under the corridor, and to take a cigar and mate, or cup of Paraguay tea. A celestial globe, a large telescope, and a theodolite, were under the little portico; and I immediately inferred that the personage before me was no other than Doctor Francia. He introduced me to his library, in a confined room, with a very small window, and that so shaded by the roof of the corridor, as to admit the least portion of light necessary for study. The library was arranged on three rows of shelves, extending across the room, and might have consisted of three hundred volumes. There were many ponderous books on law; a few on the inductive sciences; some in French, and some in Latin, upon subjects of general literature, with Euclid’s Elements, and some schoolboy treatises on algebra. On a large table were several heaps of law papers and processes. Several folios, bound in vellum, were outspread upon it. A lighted candle, though placed there solely to light cigars, lent its feeble aid to illumine the room; while a mate-cup and inkstand, both of silver, stood on another part of the table. There was neither carpet nor mat on the brick floor; and the chairs were of such ancient fashion, size, and weight, that it required a considerable effort to move them from one spot to another.’

Francia’s withdrawal left the government without an efficient adviser. Embarrassments multiplied, and a second congress was convened; ‘such a congress,’ we are told, ‘as never met before in the world; a congress which knew not its right hand from its left; which drank infinite rum in the taverns, and had one wish,—​that of getting on horseback home to its field-husbandry and partridge-shooting!’ Such men, and we need not wonder, could not govern Paraguay. Francia was called from his retirement, and a new constitution was formed, with two chief magistrates, called consuls. Francia and a colleague were appointed to these offices for one year; each in supreme command for four months at a time; but as the former took the precedence, he had two thirds of the year for his own term of authority. Two carved chairs were prepared for the use of the consuls, one inscribed with the name of Cæsar, and the other with that of Pompey. It is needless to say which of the consuls took possession of the former. By consummate address and management, and by the influence which he had obtained over the troops, Francia got rid of his colleague at the close of the year, in 1814, and was proclaimed dictator for three years. At the end of that time, he found no difficulty in assuming the dictatorship for life. From the moment that he felt his footing firm, and his authority quietly submitted to, his whole character seemed to undergo a remarkable change. Without faltering or hesitation, without a pause of human weakness, he proceeded to frame the boldest and most extraordinary system of despotism that was ever the work of a single individual. He assumed the whole power, legislative and executive; the people had but one privilege and one duty,—​that of obedience. All was done rapidly, boldly, unreservedly, and powerfully; he well knew the character of the people at whose head he had placed himself, and who, strange to say, once thought themselves possessed of energy and virtue enough for a republic.

The army, of course, was his chief instrument of power. It consisted of five thousand regular troops, and twenty thousand militia. He took care to secure their most devoted attachment, and it does not appear that during his whole career of despotism the smallest symptom of disaffection was ever manifested in their ranks. Francia, at the time of his accession to the supreme authority, was past the age when any dormant vice, save that of avarice, is likely to spring up in the character. He was not dazzled with the pomp and circumstance of exalted rank, nor even by that nobler weakness, the desire of fame; for he took no pains to make an ostentatious display of his power, or spread his reputation among foreign nations, or hand his name down to posterity. On the contrary, he carefully shrouded himself, and, as far as possible, his dominions, in haughty seclusion. His ruling, or rather his absorbing passion, was a love of power, and of power for itself alone. It was with him a pure, abstracted principle, free from desire of the splendor which usually surrounds it, of the wealth which usually supports it, and of the fame which usually succeeds it.

The most remarkable feature in his administration was the perfect isolation in which he placed the country. Intercourse with foreign nations was absolutely interdicted. Commerce was at an end. The ships lay high and dry, their pitchless seams yawning, on the banks of the rivers, and no man could trade but by the Dictator’s license. No man could leave Paraguay on any pretext whatever, and it became as hermetically sealed against the escape of its inhabitants as the ‘Happy Valley’ of Abyssinia. In this restrictive policy he was assisted by the peculiar geographical features of the country. Paraguay, in the midst of an immense and thinly-peopled continent, stood alone and impenetrable; its large rivers, wide forests and morasses, render traveling difficult and hazardous. Any one attempting to cross the frontiers must encounter the danger of losing himself in the wilderness, of being destroyed by those immense and terrible conflagrations to which the thick woods are subject, of excessive fatigue and exposure, of starvation, and attacks from venomous reptiles, wild beasts and savages. The only possibility of escape is during the time that the river Paraguay overflows the surrounding plains; it is then barely practicable. A Frenchman, with five negroes, made the attempt in 1823. One of them died of fatigue, another by the bite of a snake. At one time they were surrounded by the burning woods; and at another were involved in an immense glade in the midst of a forest, where they wandered about for fifteen days in search of an outlet, and were finally obliged to return by the opening through which they escaped. Being at last so reduced by fatigue and famine that they were unable to resist a single man, they were recaptured by a sergeant of militia.

But Francia’s tyranny was not without signal benefits to the country. The land had peace, while all the rest of Spanish America was plunged into frightful anarchy, raging and ravening like a huge dog-kennel gone mad. Paraguay was domineered over by a tyrant, but Peru and Mexico, Chili and Guatimala, suffered the oppression of forty tyrants. Francia’s soldiers were kept well drilled and in strict subordination, always ready to march where the wild Indians or other enemies made their appearance. Guard-houses were established at short distances along the rivers, and around the dangerous frontiers; and wherever an Indian cavalry horde showed itself, an alarm-cannon announced the danger; the military hastened to the spot, and the savage marauders vanished into the heart of the deserts. A great improvement, too, was visible in other quarters. The finances were accurately and frugally administered. There were no sinecures in the government; every official person was compelled to do his work. Strict justice between man and man was enforced in the courts of law. The affair of Naboth’s vineyard could not have occurred under the Dictator’s rule. He himself would accept no gift, not even the smallest trifle. He introduced schools of various sorts, promoted education by all the means in his power, and repressed superstition as far as it could be done among such a people. He promoted agriculture in a singular manner, not merely making two blades of grass grow where one grew before, but two crops of corn in a season. In the year 1820, a cloud of locusts devastated the whole country, and the prospect of universal famine threatened the land. The summer was at an end, and there was no foreign commerce by which supplies might be obtained from abroad. Francia hit upon an expedient, such as had never entered into the contemplation of any man in Paraguay before. He issued a peremptory command, ordering, under a severe penalty, that the farmers throughout the country should sow their lands anew. The result was, that a second crop was produced, and the people amazed with the important discovery that two harvests were, every year, possible in Paraguay. Agriculture made immense progress; the cultivation of many articles, before unknown in the country, was now successfully introduced, and, among others, rice and cotton. Manufactures kept pace with agriculture, and the clothing of the people, which had previously, for the most part, been imported ready made, at a great expense, was now entirely produced at home.

The city of Assumpcion was an assemblage of narrow, crooked, irregular streets, interspersed with trees, gardens, and clumps of tropical vegetation. It had no pavements, and, standing on a slope of ground, the sandy thoroughfare was torn by the rain into gullies, impassable, except by taking long leaps. Numerous springs issued from the soil in every part of the city, and formed streams, or stagnated into pools, where every species of filth became deposited. Francia determined on having it remodeled, paved, and straightened. The inhabitants were ordered to pull down their houses, and build them anew. The cost to private purses was great, and caused infinite grumbling; but Assumpcion is now an improved, paved city, and possesses convenient thoroughfares.

The stern temper and arbitrary political system of Francia led him to acts which could not fail of being denounced as the wanton excesses of a sanguinary disposition. He put to death upwards of forty persons, as we are assured by a traveler, who utters the bitterest denunciations against him. He had frightful prisons, and banished disorderly persons to a desolate spot in the wilderness. How far his executions were wanton and unjustifiable, we have not sufficient means of judging. In the early part of his career, a plot was formed for the purpose of taking his life; it was discovered, and executions followed; after which we hear nothing more of these sanguinary deeds. His enemy, the bandit chieftain Artigas, had done a great deal of injury to Paraguay, and had incensed him further by fomenting revolts among his Indians. Yet, when one of this chieftain’s lieutenants rebelled against him, and forced him to retreat with the wreck of his army, Artigas threw himself on the mercy of the Dictator, and was treated with clemency. He suffered him to reside in Paraguay, assigned him a house and lands, with a pension, and ordered the governor of the district to furnish him besides with whatever accomodations he desired, and to treat him with respect.

The Dictator’s treatment of foreigners who found their way into his dominions, was most rigorous and unjust, and has contributed more than any other cause to blacken his character among strangers. Paraguay was a sort of mouse-trap, easy enough to get into, but very difficult to get out of. M. Bonpland, the fellow-traveler of Humboldt, and two Swiss naturalists, wandering into Francia’s domains, were detained there many years. Sometimes, by special permission, an individual was allowed to leave the country, but these instances were rare. The foreigners detained were informed that they might pursue what avocations they pleased, provided they did not interfere with the government.

The father of Francia was a man of very eccentric habits; his brothers and one of his sisters were lunatics, and the Dictator himself was subject to fits of hypochondria, which seem occasionally to have affected his intellect. When under such influences, he would shut himself up for several days. On one of these occasions, being offended at the idle crowds gazing about the government-house, he gave the following order to a sentinel:—​‘If any person presumes to stop and stare at my house, fire at him; if you miss him, this is for a second shot, (handing him another musket loaded with ball;) if you miss again, I shall take care not to miss you!’ This order being quickly made known throughout the city, the inhabitants carefully avoided passing near the house, or, if their business led them that way, they hurried on with their eyes fixed on the ground. After some weeks, an Indian, who knew nothing of the Spanish language, stopped to gaze at the house, and was ordered to move on, but continued to loiter. The sentinel fired, and missed him. Francia, hearing the report, was alarmed, and summoned the sentinel. ‘What news, friend?’ On being told the cause, he declared that he did not recollect having given such an order, and immediately revoked it.

The domestic establishment of the Dictator of Paraguay consisted of four slaves, three of them mulattoes, and the fourth a negro, whom he treated with great mildness. He led a very regular life, and commonly rose with the sun. As soon as he was dressed, the negro brought him a chafing-dish, a kettle, and a pitcher of water. The Dictator made his own tea; and after drinking it, he took a walk under the colonnade fronting upon the court, smoking a cigar, which he always took care previously to unroll, in order to ascertain that it contained no poison; although his cigars were always made by his sister. At six o’clock came the barber, an unwashed and ragged mulatto, given to drink, but the Dictator’s only confidential menial. If his excellency happened to be in good humor, he chatted over the soap-dish, and the shaver was often intrusted with important commissions in preparing the public for the Dictator’s projects; so that he might be said to be the official gazette of Paraguay. He then stepped out, in his dressing-gown of printed calico, to the outer colonnade, an open space which ranged all around the building; here he walked about, receiving at the same time such persons as he admitted to an audience. About seven, he withdrew to his room, where he remained till nine. The officers then came to make their reports, and received orders. At eleven, his chief secretary brought the papers which required inspection by him, and wrote from his dictation till noon. He then sat down to a table, and ate a frugal dinner. After this, he took a siesta, drank a cup of mate, and smoked a cigar. Till four or five in the afternoon, he again attended to business; the escort then arrived to attend him, and he rode out to inspect the public works. While on this duty, he was armed with a sabre and a pair of double-barreled pocket-pistols. He returned home about nightfall, and sat down to study till nine, when he took his supper, consisting of a roast pigeon and a glass of wine. In fine weather, he took an evening walk in the outer colonnade. At ten, he gave the watchword, and, returning into the house, he fastened all the doors with his own hands.

Though possessing unlimited sway over the finances of the state, he made no attempt to enrich himself, and his small salary was always in arrears to him. His two nephews, who were officers in the army, were dismissed, lest they should presume upon their relationship. He banished his sister from his house, because she had employed a grenadier, one of the soldiers of the state, on some errand of her own. He was a devoted admirer of Napoleon, whose downfall he always deplored. The Swiss traveler, Rengger, who, after a long detention, was permitted to depart, left behind him a print of the French emperor. Francia sent an express after him, inquiring the price of it. Rengger sent him for answer, that the print was at his excellency’s service,—​he did not sell such trifles. The Dictator immediately despatched the print after him;—​he would receive no gifts. There seems to have originally existed in him somewhat of the simple and severe virtue, which is more characteristic of a stern republican than of a sanguinary tyrant. He has left one witticism upon record, which we will subjoin, as it is much in character. Rengger, who was a surgeon, was about to dissect a body. ‘Doctor,’ said the Dictator, ‘examine the neck, and see whether the Paraguayans have not an extra bone there, which hinders them from holding up their heads, and speaking out.’

In the accounts which were written of this extraordinary man during his lifetime, he has been represented as an arbitrary and cruel oppressor, universally detested, and whose death, inasmuch as he had made no provision for the continuance of the government, would plunge the state into anarchy and ruin. Both these representations have been completely falsified by the event. Francia died peaceably, on the twentieth day of September, 1840, aged eighty-three; the people crowding round his house with much emotion, and even, as we are assured, with tears of anxiety and sympathy. The funeral discourse pronounced on the occasion surprised the world; it was filled with praises of the deceased Dictator, whom it represented as the real father of his country.

Enough is known of Dr. Francia to assure us that he was a most remarkable individual; but it would be both difficult and unsafe to draw his character with confidence and minuteness, from the meagre and questionable materials which we possess respecting him. That he was a man of iron integrity in a country where corruption and venality were almost matters of course with public men; that he spent thirty years of his life in toilsome devotion to his country; that he was above the vulgar love of money, and disdained to take advantage of his unlimited power for enriching himself,—​are all incontrovertible facts; that his government was also, on the whole, advantageous to his country, is not to be denied. But what were the motives which guided his conduct? Was it patriotism, or a simple love of power? Why adopt so strange a system of policy—​that of interdicting all intercourse with other nations? Was it from a conviction that this was best adapted to the condition of the people, or that it was indispensable to the preservation of his despotic sway? Why enshroud himself in such mysterious isolation, holding as little commerce of affection and sympathy with his fellow-men us of trade with foreign nations? These are questions which we cannot easily answer. If we may rely upon the scattered glimpses of his career that have been presented to us, we should venture to decide that the main elements of his character consisted of stern integrity and devoted patriotism; blended, however, with natural sternness of temper, a love of power, and a conviction that a despotic government was best suited to the condition of the people. His singular habits were, probably, the result of native eccentricity; his exclusive policy was doubtless adopted with the double motive of perpetuating his authority, and insuring tranquillity to the country. Of the vigor of his mind and energy of his character, there can be no doubt. That he should have created and sustained, for thirty years, the sternest despotism that the world ever witnessed, in the heart of a continent where everything besides was tending to the dissolution of tyrannical power and the establishment of popular institutions, is a phenomenon that may well excite the curiosity and astonishment of the world. We may, indeed, suppose that his government was modeled after that of the Jesuits, the effects of which were still visible in his time; but that he should have been able to assume to himself, and exercise for so long a period, the unlimited power wielded by these sagacious priests, must still excite our surprise.

This extraordinary man, who, from being originally an operative weaver, became by his own unaided exertions one of the most celebrated ornithologists of his day, was born in Paisley on the 6th of July 1766. His father was a distiller, poor in fortune, though said to have been endowed with an active and sagacious mind. He was so unfortunate as to lose his mother at the early age of ten, and was left without the tender and judicious care which a mother alone can give. On attaining his thirteenth year, he was bound apprentice for three years to his brother-in-law, to learn the business of a weaver, and on the expiry of this term, continued to work as a journeyman for four years more.

The employment of a weaver was by no means congenial to the disposition and propensities of the future ornithologist; but as his father, though a highly respectable man in character, was in very indifferent circumstances, young Wilson had no choice left, but was compelled to adopt that which was readiest and most easily attained. It is much to his credit, however, that though he must have felt—​indeed it is certain that he did feel, and that at a very early age—​that he was fitted for higher things, he yet diligently labored at the humble but honorable calling to which destiny had appointed him, and never allowed such feelings to interrupt his industry. At this period of his life he indulged in a predilection for poetical composition, and wrote several pieces which appeared in the ‘Glasgow Advertiser;’ but in these juvenile attempts he was not very successful, nor was he ever, at any after period, fortunate in this department of literature, though his poetical productions are certainly not without very considerable merit.

Having continued at the loom, as already said, for four years as a journeyman weaver, at the end of this period he abandoned the business, to accompany his brother-in-law, who had commenced traveling merchant or pedlar, in a tour through the eastern districts of Scotland—​an employment which, though it could scarcely claim any sort of precedence in point of rank over that which he had left, he yet gladly embraced, as it at once released him from the confinement and dull monotony of his former occupation, and permitted him to indulge in one of his strongest propensities, which was to ramble over hill and dale, and to enjoy unfettered and unrestrained, the beauties of his native land. With such a disposition, it is not to be wondered at that, as a pedlar, he made much greater progress in the study of nature, and perhaps of man, and in the extending of his ideas, than in the improvement of his fortunes. The acquisition of money was no object with him, and of course, as it was not sought, it was not found.

At this time Burns was in the zenith of his fame, and Wilson, tempted by his success, resolved to publish his poems—​the accumulated pieces of preceding years—​and in 1789, contracted with a printer in Paisley for this purpose, but was obliged to abandon the idea for the time, for want of means to carry it into effect. He, however, published them some time afterwards, with the title of ‘Poems, Humorous, Satirical, and Serious,’ at his own risk, after having in vain endeavored to procure subscribers, and carried them about with him in his hawking expeditions, but met with little or no success in the sale of them. Finding that he could make nothing of either poetry or traffic, he returned once more to his loom, at which he was again quietly seated, when he learned that a debating society in Edinburg had proposed for discussion the question, whether Ferguson or Allan Ramsay had done most honor to Scottish poetry. Seized with an ambition to distinguish himself on this occasion, he borrowed from a friend the poems of Ferguson, which he had never read before, and in a few days produced a poem, which he entitled the ‘Laurel Disputed,’ and in which he awarded the palm to Ferguson. With this poem in his pocket, he proceeded to Edinburg, and recited it before the audience assembled to hear the discussion. Before he left Edinburg, he also recited in public two other poems, and acquired by all a considerable degree of respect and favor. He likewise contributed occasionally, about this time (1791), to a periodical work called ‘The Bee.’ But though Wilson’s poetical efforts procured him some reputation, they did nothing for him in the way of advancing his worldly interests. The volume of poems which he published in 1789, at which period he was only twenty-two years of age, went through two small editions in octavo, but without yielding the author any pecuniary advantage. His literary reputation was, nevertheless, considerably increased by the publication of his ‘Watty and Meg,’ a poem in the Scottish dialect, and of such decided merit, that it was universally ascribed to Burns on its first appearance, which was in 1791. It is a droll and satirical description of a drunken husband and scolding wife, and shows that the author possessed a fund of broad humor.

Having soon after this embroiled himself in some serious disputes which took place in his native town between the operative weavers and their employers, by writing some severe personal satires on certain individuals of the latter class, he found his residence in Paisley no longer compatible with his comfort or happiness, and therefore determined on proceeding to America. But before taking his departure, he called on those persons whom he had satirised, expressed his sorrow for what he had done, and solicited their forgiveness. This circumstance is a pleasing proof of the generosity of his nature—​that which follows a very striking one of the determination of his character. Although he had resolved on going to America, he did not possess a single shilling wherewith to pay his passage. To supply this desideratum, he instantly abandoned every other pursuit, and for four months labored with incessant industry at his loom, confining the expense of his living during this time to one shilling in the week. The result of this perseverance and rigid economy was, that at the end of the period named, he found himself in possession of the requisite sum, but nothing more. With this he set out for Portpatrick on foot, crossed to Belfast, and there engaged a passage to America; and he arrived at New York on the 14th of July 1794, with only a few shillings in his pocket, and even these were borrowed from a fellow-passenger.

Up till this period, and indeed for several years after, Wilson exhibited no indications of a genius or even predilection for that particular department of natural history in which he afterwards acquired so brilliant a name; but it is said that, immediately after landing in America, and while proceeding from the place of his disembarkation to Newcastle, his attention was strongly excited by the specimens of the feathered inhabitants of the New World which he met with, and that he was particularly delighted with the splendor of the plumage of a red-headed woodpecker, which he shot by the way. Whether or not his genius received on this occasion that bent which afterwards led to such splendid results, it is certain that he always retained a lively recollection of the feelings of surprise and delight with which he for the first time contemplated the beauties of the American woodpecker.

For many years after his arrival in America, Wilson’s condition underwent but little improvement. He found there nearly the same difficulties to contend with, and prospects nearly equally cheerless, with those he had left behind him in his native land. The first employment he obtained was with a copperplate printer in Philadelphia; but this he soon relinquished, and betook him to his original trade, weaving. This he again resigned for the pack; but his success as a pedler was not sufficient to induce him to continue by it, and he abandoned it also, and commenced teacher; making his first experiment in this laborious and somewhat precarious profession near the town of Frankford in Pennsylvania. While in this situation, he in a great measure repaired the defects of his early education, by close and unremitting study in various departments of science and knowledge; and, as has often been the case, by instructing others, he taught himself. He afterwards removed to Milestown, where he remained for several years, adding a little to the limited income arising from his school, by surveying land for farmers.

At the end of this period he applied for and obtained the appointment of schoolmaster of the Union School in the township of Kingsessing, within a few miles of Philadelphia; and it is from this period that his history in the pursuit of the bird creation commences, although he yet entertained that branch of natural history only in common with others, and by no means confined his studies to the feathered tribes. His attention was equally engrossed by a host of other animals; and his apartment, as described by himself, had the appearance of Noah’s ark, being crowded with opossums, squirrels, snakes, lizards, and other animals. Finding his ignorance of drawing a serious drawback in his new pursuit, he applied to the acquisition of this art with such diligence and determination of purpose, that he in a very short time succeeded in obtaining a command of the pencil, that enabled him to sketch from nature with great fidelity and spirit. It was not, however, till the year 1803 that Wilson conceived the magnificent design of his American Ornithology, and even then his ideas on the subject fell very far short of the great work he afterwards achieved. At this period he contemplated little more than ‘making a collection of the finest American birds,’ as he himself writes to a friend in Paisley. Having mentioned his intention to some of his American friends, they endeavored to dissuade him from prosecuting it, and, with a sincere regard for his interest, pointed out to him the formidable difficulties which he would have to encounter, and which appeared to them insurmountable. But they spoke in vain. Wilson’s ardor and enthusiasm was more than a match for their prudence; and trusting to his own resources, he quietly but resolutely proceeded with his design; although—​and it is a curious fact—​when he began his stupendous work on American Ornithology, he did not know even the names of more than three or four of the American birds. But from this moment he devoted himself with a zeal and energy to the accomplishment of his enterprise, which removed all obstacles as fast as they presented themselves, and swept away all difficulties, as straws are swept away by the stream.

In October 1804, with his gun on his shoulder he made the first of that series of perilous journeys through the wilds of America, which he found it necessary to perform to obtain an accurate and intimate knowledge of the birds of the forest; and amidst privations and hardships which few men but himself would have voluntarily encountered, he completed a journey of twelve hundred miles on foot, through deep snows, boundless forests, deep and dangerous rivers, and over wild and desolate mountains. But the experience of this perilous and painful excursion, instead of damping his ardor, had the effect only of increasing it. In the spring of the following year, he had completed drawings of twenty-eight rare birds, and about this time also made an attempt to acquire the art of engraving on copper, thinking, in the devotedness of his enthusiasm, that he might, by diligence and perseverance, soon attain such a proficiency in this art as would enable him to execute the plates for his contemplated work; and he actually completed two: but when he had got this length, he became dissatisfied with the result of his labors, and abandoned the pursuit. At this period the general aspect of his affairs, and those, in particular, which related to his undertaking, were exceedingly gloomy. He was without means and without money, and was persevering in a course which his friends thought an imprudent one, and was therefore without even words of encouragement to cheer him on his way. But neither these disheartening considerations, nor any other, could deter him from prosecuting his great design. So far from being discouraged by the difficulties which surrounded him, he declared that he would proceed with his plan even if it should cost him his life; and, in that noble spirit which belongs to true genius alone, exclaimed, ‘I shall at least leave a small beacon to point out where I perished.’

At the close of the year 1805, he made an unsuccessful attempt to be appointed to take part in an exploratory expedition which the American government was then about to send to the valley of the Mississippi. He addressed his application on this occasion to President Jefferson, stating to that functionary what he had done in the prosecution of his intended work on American ornithology, and representing the advantages which the being permitted to accompany the party would afford him in furthering his views. To this communication—​from what cause is now unknown—​he obtained no reply, and of course did not join the expedition. Soon after this, more cheering prospects presented themselves to the enterprising ornithologist. A Mr. Samuel F. Bradford, a publisher in Philadelphia, who was about to print an edition of Rees’s Cyclopedia, engaged Wilson, on what the latter himself called liberal terms, to superintend the publication of that work. But this connection presented another inducement to Wilson, and one which had infinitely greater attraction for him than any which related to his own personal advantage. This was the prospect it afforded him of procuring a publisher for his work; and so far he was not disappointed. On his explaining the nature and object of his undertaking, Mr. Bradford readily consented to become his publisher; and in September 1808, the first volume of ‘American Ornithology’ appeared, one of the most splendid books by far which had then emanated from the American press; but unfortunately the price was, though necessarily, much too high for a country comparatively in its infancy, and which had not then had time to turn its attention to the arts or sciences, or to acquire a sufficient taste for them to encourage such an expensive appeal on their behalf. The price of the work, when completed, was to be one hundred and twenty dollars. It is not therefore at all surprising to find that, even a considerable time after its publication, its ingenious, but in this respect certainly injudicious author, could only boast of forty-one names on his list of subscribers. This number, however, he afterwards increased to two hundred and fifty, by traveling through the country, and visiting the different towns in quest of patrons; but these, he himself says, were obtained ‘at a price worth more than five times the amount;’ and they no doubt were so, if wounded feelings, fatigue of body and mind, and all the humiliations to which such a mission must of necessity have frequently subjected him, be taken into the account. From this tour he returned to New York in March 1809.

Two hundred copies only of the first volume of the Ornithology had been printed, but it was now thought advisable to throw off three hundred more; which was accordingly done: and in the meantime Wilson assiduously employed himself in preparing the second volume for the press, although he neither had yet benefited to the extent of a single dollar by the publication of his work, nor was likely to do so. The second volume appeared in January 1810; and immediately after its appearance, the author set out on another tour in quest of support and patronage. This time he penetrated into the western part of the States, or valley of the Ohio and Mississippi. At Pittsburg, he succeeded beyond his expectations in getting subscribers; and after ascertaining that the roads were such as to render a land journey impossible, he bought a small boat, which he named the Ornithologist, intending to proceed in it down the Ohio to Cincinnati, a distance of more than five hundred miles. Some advised him not to undertake the journey alone; but he had made up his mind, and only waited, exploring the woods in the interval, till the ice had left the the stream. At length the time arrived for his departure on this inland voyage. His provision consisted of some biscuit and cheese, and a bottle of cordial, given him by a gentleman in Pittsburg: one end of the boat was occupied by his trunk, greatcoat, and gun; and he had a small tin vessel, with which to bale his boat, and to drink the water of the Ohio. Thus equipped, he launched into the stream. The weather was calm, and the river like a mirror, except where fragments of ice were floating down. His heart expanded with delight at the novelty and wildness of the scene, The song of the red-bird in the deep forests on the shore, the smoke of the various sugar-camps rising gently along the mountains, and the little log-huts which here and there opened from the woods, gave an appearance of life to a landscape which would otherwise have been lonely and still. He could not consent to the slow motion of the river, which flowed two miles and a half an hour; he therefore stripped himself for the oar, and added three miles and a half to his speed. Our traveler’s lodgings by night were less tolerable than his voyage, as he went down the desolate stream. The first night was passed in a log-cabin, fifty-two miles below Pittsburg, where he slept on a heap of straw.

Having reached Cincinnati, he there got a few subscribers for his work, and then proceeded to Louisville, where he sold his boat. He next walked a distance of seventy-two miles to Lexington, whence he traveled to Nashville, exploring on his journey some of the remarkable caverns of Kentucky. He had thoughts of extending his tour to St. Louis; but after considering that it would detain him a month, and add four hundred miles to his journey, without perhaps adding a single subscriber to his list, he gave up the plan, and prepared for a passage through the wilderness towards New Orleans. He was strongly urged not to undertake it, and a thousand alarming representations of hardship and danger were set before him; but, as usual, he gave fears to the winds, and quietly made preparations for the way. He set out on the 4th of May, on horseback, with a pistol in each pocket, and a fowling-piece belted across his shoulder. During this adventurous journey he suffered severely from the heat of the sun, and all the changes of the weather. His exposure by night and day brought on an illness, which he with difficulty surmounted. He had occasion to travel among the Indians, who, it seems, treated him with great kindness; and though dreadfully worn out with fatigue, he enjoyed the journey very much. He reached New Orleans on the 6th of June, and shortly after embarked in a vessel for New York, and from thence he proceeded to Philadelphia, where he arrived on the 2d of August 1810.

Wilson now applied himself with unwearied industry to the preparation of the third volume of his Ornithology. At this time, he says that the number of birds which he had found, and which had not been noticed by any other naturalist, amounted to forty. Between this period and 1812 he made several other journeys throughout the country, partly with the view of promoting the sale of his publication, and partly to procure materials for his study, an object which he never lost sight of—​seldom traveling, whatever might be the immediate or ostensible cause of his changing place, without his fowling-piece.

In the year above named, he received a gratifying proof of the estimation in which his merits were beginning to be held. This was his being chosen a member of the Society of Artists of the United States: and in the spring of the following year, he was admitted to the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. But this extraordinary man was not destined to see either the completion of his meritorious labors, or to enjoy the triumph of achieving all that he designed. The excessive labor and fatigue of both body and mind to which he had for many years subjected himself, gradually undermined his constitution, and prepared it to yield to the first act of indiscretion to which it should be exposed; and this, unfortunately, now very soon occurred.

While sitting one day with a friend, he caught a glimpse from the window of a rare bird, for which he had long been vainly looking out. The instant he saw it he seized his gun, rushed out of the house in pursuit of it, and after an arduous chase, during which he swam across a river, succeeded in killing it; but he succeeded at the expense of his life. He caught a violent cold; this was followed by dysentery, which carried him off after an illness of ten days. He died on the morning of the 23d August 1813, in the forty-seventh year of his age, and was buried in the cemetery of the Swedish church in Southwark, Philadelphia. A plain marble monument, with an inscription intimating his age, the place and date of his birth, and of his death, marks the place of his sepulture.

Wilson had completed the seventh volume of his Ornithology before he died, and was engaged, when seized with his last illness, in collecting materials for the eighth. At this he labored with an assiduity and unintermitting industry which called forth the remonstrances of his friends. His reply, while it seems to indicate a presentiment of his premature fate, is at the same time characteristic of his extraordinary enthusiasm and diligence. ‘Life is short,’ he would say on these occasions, ‘and nothing can be done without exertion.’ Nor is a wish which he repeatedly expressed to a friend some time before his death, less characteristic of his amiable nature and deep admiration of the works of his Creator. This wish was that he might be buried where the birds might sing over his grave.

His person is described as having been tall and handsome, rather slender than robust; his countenance expressive and thoughtful, and his eye intelligent. Unfortunately for himself, the speculation in which he engaged with so much ardor yielded him no remuneration; for he had committed the serious error of issuing his work on too expensive a scale. From the publication he derived no profits whatever; and the heavy expenses he had to incur in his journeys, as well as his ordinary outlays, were only paid by the wages he received in the capacity of colorer of his own plates. Of the many active men whose biographies are before the public, there is not, perhaps, one whose life presents such a heroic resolution in the pursuit of science as Wilson. Although this most indefatigable genius did not live to enjoy the reward of his diligence, he certainly anticipated what has come to pass—​that this work would always be regarded as a subject of pride by his adopted country, as it certainly is by the country which gave him birth, and would secure a high degree of honor for him whose name it bears.

James Watt, the son of a merchant, was born at Greenock, in Scotland, on the 19th of January, 1736. He received the first part of his education at a school in his native place, and completed it at home, by his own diligence. The science of mechanics, for which he afterwards became so famous, formed, at an early age, his favorite study; and, in conformity with his desire, he was, at the age of eighteen, apprenticed to a mathematical instrument-maker, in London. The bad state of his health, however, which had before retarded his progress at school, compelled him to return, after a year’s stay in the metropolis, to Scotland. This was all the instruction he ever received in the business for which he was intended, yet he must have attained considerable skill, as, in 1757, he, at the recommendation of some relations, commenced the practice of it, at Glasgow, and was immediately appointed mathematical instrument-maker to the college. He continued to hold this situation till 1763, when he married, left his apartments in the university, for a house in the town of Glasgow, and commenced the profession of a general engineer. He soon acquired a high reputation; and in making surveys and estimates for canals, harbors, bridges, and other public works, was as extensively employed in his own country, as Brindley had been in England.

His attention to the employment of steam, as a mechanical agent, had been, in the first instance, excited by witnessing some experiments of his friend Mr. John (afterwards Dr.) Robison, and he had also made some experiments himself, with a view of ascertaining its expansive force. It was not, however, till 1763–4 that he began to devote himself seriously to the investigation of the properties of steam, and to ascertain those results upon which his fame was to be founded. An examination of Newcomen’s engine, a model of which had been sent him to repair, revived all his former impressions respecting the radical imperfections of the atmospheric machine, to the improvements of which he now ardently devoted himself. One of his first discoveries was, that the rapidity with which water evaporates, depends simply upon the quantity of heat which is imbibed, and this again on the extent of the surface of the vessel containing the water, exposed to the fire. He ascertained also the quantity of coals necessary for the evaporation of any given quantity of water, the heat at which it boils under various pressures, and many other particulars never before accurately determined.

He now proceeded to attempt a remedy of the two grand defects of Newcomen’s engine—​the necessity of cooling the cylinder before every stroke of the piston, by the water injected into it; and the non-employment of the machine, for a moving power, of the expansive force of the steam. On account of the first defect, a much more powerful application of heat than would otherwise have been requisite was demanded for the purpose of again heating the cylinder, when it was to be refilled with steam. To keep this vessel, therefore, permanently hot, was the grand desideratum; and Watt at length hit upon an expedient equally simple and successful. His plan was to establish a communication, by an open pipe, between the cylinder and another vessel, the consequence of which would be, that when the steam was admitted into the former, it would flow into the latter, so as to fill that also. Supposing, then, that the steam should here only be condensed, by being brought into contact with cold water, or any other convenient means, a vacuum would be produced, into which, as a vent, more steam would immediately rush from the cylinder; this steam would also be condensed; and so the process would go on, till all the steam had left the cylinder, and a perfect vacuum had been effected in that vessel, without so much as a drop of cold water having touched or entered it. The separate vessel alone, or the condenser, would be cooled by the water used to condense the steam; which, instead of being an evil, would tend to quicken and promote the condensation. Experiments fully confirmed Watt in these views; and the consequence was, not only a saving of three-fourths of the fuel formerly required to feed the engine, but a considerable increase of its power.

In overcoming this difficulty, Watt was conducted to another improvement, which effected the complete removal of what we have described as the second radical imperfection of Newcomen’s engine, namely, its non-employment, for a moving power, of the expansive force of the steam. The effectual way, it occurred to him, of preventing any air from escaping into the parts of the cylinder below the piston, would be to dispense with the use of that element above the piston, and to substitute there likewise the same contrivance as below, of alternate steam and a vacuum. This was to be accomplished by merely opening communications from the upper part of the cylinder to the boiler, on the one hand, and the condenser on the other; and forming it, at the same time, into an air-tight chamber, by means of a cover, with only a hole in it to admit the rod or shank of the piston, which might, besides, without impeding its freedom of action, be padded with hemp, the more completely to exclude the air. It was so contrived, accordingly, by a proper arrangement of the cocks, and the machinery connected with them, that while there was a vacuum in one end of the cylinder, there should be an admission of steam into the other; and the steam so admitted now served, not only by its susceptibility of sudden condensation, to create the vacuum, but also, by its expansive force, to impel the piston.

These were the principal fundamental improvements in an engine, which has since been brought to such perfection of action and power, as to form one of the most triumphant eras in the history of human ingenuity. Instead of entering into all the subsequent contrivances which Watt invented, we cannot give a better idea of his splendid success, than by quoting the language of a recent writer. ‘In the present state of the engine, it appears a thing almost endowed with intelligence. It regulates, with perfect accuracy and uniformity, the number of its strokes in a given time, counting or recording them, moreover, to tell how much work it has done, as a clock records the beats of its pendulum; it regulates the quantity of steam admitted to work; the briskness of the fire, the supply of water to the boiler; the supply of coals to the fire; it opens and shuts its valves with absolute precision as to time and manner; it oils its joints; it takes out any air which may accidentally enter into parts which should be vacuous; and, when anything goes wrong, which it cannot of itself rectify, it warns its attendants by ringing a bell; yet, with all these talents and qualities, and even when exerting the power of six hundred horses, it is obedient to the hand of a child; its aliment is coal, wood, charcoal, or other combustible; it consumes none while idle; it never tires, and wants no sleep; it is not subject to malady when originally well made, and only refuses to work when worn out with age; it is equally active in all climates, and will do work of any kind; it is a water-pumper, a miner, a sailor, a cotton-spinner, a weaver, a blacksmith, a miller, etc., etc.; and a small engine, in the character of a steam pony, may be seen dragging after it, on a railroad, a hundred tons of merchandise, or a regiment of soldiers, with greater speed than that of our fleetest coaches. It is the king of machines; and a permanent realization of the genii of eastern fable, whose supernatural powers were occasionally at the command of man.’

Watt had, however, another difficulty to surmount; that of bringing his invention into practice. Having no pecuniary resources of his own, he applied to Dr. Roebuck, who had just established the Carron iron works, to advance the requisite funds; which he consented to do, on having two-thirds of the profits made over to him. A patent was accordingly obtained in 1769, and an engine soon after erected; but the failure of Dr. Roebuck thwarted the project, for a time, and the subject of our memoir returned to his business of a civil engineer. At length, in 1774, a proposal was made to him, to remove to Birmingham, and enter into partnership with the celebrated hardware manufacturer, Mr. Boulton. Dr. Roebuck’s share of the patent was shortly afterwards transferred to Mr. Boulton, and the firm of Boulton and Watt commenced the business of making steam-engines, in the year 1775. From this date, Mr. Watt obtained from parliament an extension of his patent for twenty-five years, in the course of which he added several new improvements to the mechanism of his engine. In particular, he exerted himself, for many years, in contriving the best methods of making the action of the piston communicate a rotatory motion in various circumstances; and, between the years 1781 and 1785, he took out four different patents, for inventions relating to this object.

The invention of Watt was fully appreciated in the scientific world. In 1785, he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society; in 1806, LL.D., by the University of Glasgow; and, in 1808, a member of the French Institute. He died on the 25th of August, 1819, in the eighty-fourth year of his age, leaving behind him a name that will descend to posterity, in connexion with an invention that has already gone far to revolutionize the whole domain of human industry. ‘The trunk of an elephant,’ it has been truly said of this machine, ‘that can pick up a pin, or rend an oak, is as nothing to it. It can engrave a seal, and crush masses of obdurate metal like wax before it; draw out, without breaking, a thread as fine as gossamer; and lift a ship of war, like a bauble, in the air. It can embroider muslin, and forge anchors; cut steel into ribands, and impel loaded vessels against the fury of the winds and the waves.’

John Howard, whose name as a philanthropist must be familiar to a number of our readers, was born at Clapton, in the parish of Hackney, in the immediate vicinity of London, in or about the year 1727. His father was an upholsterer and carpet-warehouseman, who had acquired a considerable fortune in trade, and had retired from business to live at Hackney. Being a dissenter, and a man of strong religious principles, he sent his son at an early age to be educated by a schoolmaster named Worsley, who kept an establishment at some distance from London, where the sons of many opulent dissenters, friends of Mr. Howard, were already boarded. The selection appears to have been injudicious; for in after-life Mr. Howard assured an intimate friend, with greater indignation than he used to express on most subjects, ‘that, after a continuance of seven years at this school, he left it not fully taught any one thing.’ From Mr. Worsley’s school he was removed, probably about the age of fourteen, to one of a superior description in London, the master of which, Mr. Eames, was a man of some reputation for learning. His acquisitions at both seminaries seem to have been of the meagre kind then deemed sufficient for a person who was to be engaged in commercial pursuits; and it is the assertion of Mr. Howard’s biographer, Dr. Aikin, founded on personal knowledge, that he ‘was never able to speak or write his native language with grammatical correctness, and that his acquaintance with other languages—​the French perhaps excepted—​was slight and superficial.’ In this, however, he did not differ perhaps from the generality of persons similarly circumstanced in their youth, and destined, like him, for business.

At the age of fifteen or sixteen Mr. Howard was bound apprentice by his father to Messrs. Newnham and Shipley, extensive wholesale grocers in Watling Street, who received a premium of £700 with him. His father dying, however, shortly afterwards, and the state of his health or his natural tastes indisposing him for the mode of life for which he had been destined, he made arrangements with his masters for the purchase of the remaining term of his apprenticeship, and quitted business. By the will of his father, who is described as a strict methodical man, of somewhat penurious disposition, he was not to come into possession of the property till he had attained his twenty-fourth year. On attaining that age, he was to be entitled to the sum of £7000 in money, together with all his father’s landed and moveable property: his only sister receiving, as her share, £8000 in money, with certain additions of jewels, etc., which had belonged to her mother. Although nominally under the charge of guardians, Mr. Howard was allowed a considerable share in the management of his own property. He had his house at Clapton, which his father’s parsimonious habits had suffered to fall into decay, repaired or rebuilt, intending to make it his general place of residence. Connected with the repairing of this house an anecdote is told of Mr. Howard, which will appear characteristic. He used to go every day to superintend the progress of the workmen; and an old man who had been gardener to his father, and who continued about the house until it was let some time afterwards, used to tell, as an instance of Mr. Howard’s goodness of disposition when young, that every day during the repairs he would be in the street, close by the garden wall, just as the baker’s cart was passing, when he would regularly buy a loaf and throw it over the wall, saying to the gardener as he came in, ‘Harry, go and look among the cabbages; you will find something for yourself and family.’

After passing his twentieth year, Mr. Howard, being of delicate health, quitted his native country, and made a tour through France and Italy, which lasted a year or two; but of the particulars of which we have no account. On his return to England, probably about the year 1750, he took lodgings in Stoke Newington, living as a gentleman of independent property and quiet, retired habits, and much respected by a small circle of acquaintances, chiefly dissenters. The state of his health, however, was such as to require constant care. His medical attendants, thinking him liable to consumption, recommended to him a very rigorous regimen in diet, which ‘laid the foundation,’ says one of his biographers, ‘of that extraordinary abstemiousness and indifference to the gratifications of the palate which ever after so much distinguished him.’ This condition of his health obliged him also to have recourse to frequent changes of air and scene. Newington, however, was his usual place of residence. Here, having experienced much kindness and attention during a very severe attack of illness from his landlady, Mrs. Sarah Loidoire, an elderly widow of small property, he resolved to marry her; and although she remonstrated with him upon the impropriety of the step, considering their great disparity of ages—​he being in his twenty-fifth, and she in her fifty-second year—​the marriage was concluded in 1752. Nothing but the supposition that he was actuated by gratitude, can account for this singular step in Mr. Howard’s life. The lady, it appears, was not only twice as old as himself, but also very sickly; and that no reasons of interest can have influenced him, is evident, as well from the fact that she was poor in comparison with himself, as from the circumstance of his immediately making over the whole of her little property to her sister. Mr. Howard seems to have lived very happily with his wife till her death shortly afterwards, in November, 1755.

On his wife’s death, he resolved to leave England for another tour on the continent. In his former tour he had visited most of the places of usual resort in France and Italy; during the present, therefore, he intended to pursue some less common route. After some deliberation, he determined to sail first to Portugal, in order to visit its capital, Lisbon, then in ruins from the effects of that tremendous earthquake the news of which had appalled Europe. Nothing is more interesting than to observe the effects which great public events of a calamitous nature produce on different minds; indeed one of the most instructive ways of contrasting men’s dispositions, is to consider how they are severally affected by some stupendous occurrence. It is to be regretted, therefore, that we are not informed more particularly by Howard’s biographers of the reasons which determined him to visit the scene of the awful catastrophe which had recently occurred in Portugal—​whether they were motives of mere curiosity, or whether they partook of that desire to place himself in contact with misery, that passion for proximity to wretchedness which formed so large an element in Howard’s character, and marked him out from the first as predestined for a career of philanthrophy.

Before leaving England to proceed on his tour to the south of Europe, Mr. Howard broke up his establishment at Stoke Newington, and, with that generosity which was so natural to him, made a distribution among the poorer people of the neighborhood of those articles of furniture for which he had now no necessity. The old gardner already mentioned used to relate that his dividend of the furniture on this occasion consisted of a bedstead and bedding complete, a table, six new chairs, and a scythe. A few weeks after this distribution of his furniture, Mr. Howard set sail in the Hanover, a Lisbon packet. Unfortunately, the vessel never reached her destination, being captured during her voyage by a French privateer. The crew and passengers were treated with great cruelty by their captors, being kept for forty hours under hatches without bread or water. They were carried into Brest, and confined all together in the castle of that place as prisoners of war. Here their sufferings were increased; and after lying for many hours in their dungeon without the slightest nourishment, they had a joint of mutton thrown in amongst them, which, not having a knife to cut it, they were obliged to tear with the hands, and gnaw like dogs. For nearly a week they lay on straw in their damp and unwholesome dungeon, after which they were separated, and severally disposed of. Mr. Howard was removed first to Morlaix, and afterwards to Carpaix, where he was allowed for two months to go about on parole—​an indulgence usually accorded to officers only, but which Mr. Howard’s manners and behavior procured for him from the authorities. He was even furnished, it is said, with the means of returning to England, that he might negotiate his own exchange for some French naval officer, a prisoner of war in the hands of the English. This exchange was happily accomplished, and Mr. Howard was once more at liberty, and in England. His short captivity in France, however, was not without its good effects, by interesting him strongly in the condition of those unfortunate men who, chancing like himself to be captured at sea during war, were languishing in dungeons both in France and England, and atoning by their sufferings for the mutual injuries or discords of the nations to which they belonged. Mr. Howard’s imprisonment may be said to have first given a specific direction to his philanthropic enthusiasm. In his ‘Account of the State of Prisons,’ published a considerable time afterwards, he subjoins the following note to a passage in which he contrasts the favorable treatment which prisoners of war usually receive, with the cruelties which domestic prisoners experience:—​‘I must not be understood here to mean a compliment to the French. How they then treated English prisoners of war I knew by experience in 1756, when a Lisbon packet in which I went passenger, in order to make the tour of Portugal, was taken by a French privateer. Before we reached Brest, I suffered the extremity of thirst, not having, for above forty hours, one drop of water, nor hardly a morsel of food. In the castle of Brest I lay for six nights upon straw; and observing how cruelly my countrymen were used there and at Morlaix, whither I was carried next, during the two months I was at Carpaix upon parole I corresponded with the English prisoners at Brest, Morlaix, and Dinnan. At the last of these towns were several of our ship’s crew and my servant. I had sufficient evidence of their being treated with such barbarity, that many hundreds had perished, and that thirty-six were buried in a hole at Dinnan in one day. When I came to England, still on parole, I made known to the Commissioner of Sick and Wounded Seamen the sundry particulars, which gained their attention and thanks. Remonstrance was made to the French court; our sailors had redress; and those who were in the three prisons mentioned above were brought home in the first cartel-ships. Perhaps what I suffered on this occasion increased my sympathy with the unhappy people whose case is the subject of this book.’ In Mr. Howard’s conduct, as here described by himself, we discern the real characteristic of active philanthropy. How few men are there who, like him, would have turned a personal misfortune to such good account; and who, while enduring sufferings themselves, would have occupied their thoughts with the means of putting an end, for all time coming, to the system which permitted such sufferings! Most men would have occupied the time of their imprisonment with sighs and lamentations; and once at liberty, they would have returned gleefully to the enjoyment of their homes, without troubling themselves about their less fortunate fellow-sufferers whom they had left behind, or at least without conceiving that their exertions could do anything for their benefit. But it is the characteristic of men like Howard, when once their attention is called to a wrong, not to rest until they have seen it rectified.

On his return to England, Mr. Howard went to reside on the small estate of Cardington, near Bedford, which had been left him by his father, and which he had increased by the purchase of an additional farm. He appears to have resided here for the next two years, leading the life of a quiet country gentleman, superintending his farms, and earning the respect and good-will of all the neighborhood, by his attention to the comforts of his tenants, and his charities to the poor. It was during this period also, on the 13th of May 1756, that he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society; an honor which did not necessarily imply that he possessed reputation as a scientific man, or even a man of brilliant abilities, but only that he was a gentleman of respectability, who, like many others of his class, took an interest in scientific pursuits. Howard’s attainments in science do not seem to have ever been very great, and the only point of his character which connected him particularly with a scientific body, was his taste for meteorological observations.

On the 25th of April 1758, Mr. Howard contracted a second marriage with Miss Henrietta Leeds, eldest daughter of Edward Leeds, Esq., of Croxton, Cambridgeshire. The lady whom he had selected as his partner in life is described as amiable, affectionate, pious, and in every way worthy of such a husband. Her tastes were the same as his, and she cordially seconded all his charitable plans for the assistance and relief of those who depended upon his benevolence.

For seven years Mr. Howard enjoyed uninterrupted happiness in the society of his wife. During this period he resided first at Cardington, next for about three years at Watcombe in Hampshire, and latterly at Cardington again. The even tenor of his existence during these years presents few incidents worth recording. Reading, gardening, and the improvement of his grounds, occupied most of his time. His meteorological observations were likewise diligently continued; and it is mentioned, as a proof of his perseverance in whatever he undertook, that on the setting in of a frost, he used to leave his bed at two o’clock every morning while it lasted, for the purpose of looking at a thermometer which he kept in his garden. His charities, as before, were profuse and systematic. His desire, and that of his wife, was to see all around them industrious and happy. To effect this, they used all the influence which their position as persons of property and wealth gave them over the villagers and cottagers in their neighborhood. One of their modes of dispensing charity was to employ persons out of work in making articles of furnature or ornament; and in this way, it is said, Mrs. Howard soon increased her stock of table-linen to a quantity greater than would ever be required by any household.

On the 31st of March 1765, Mrs. Howard died in giving birth to a son, the first and only issue of their marriage. This event was a source of poignant affliction to her husband. On the tablet which he erected to her memory in Cardington church, he caused to be inscribed the following passage from the book of Proverbs:—​‘She opened her mouth with wisdom, and on her tongue was the law of kindness.’ Her miniature was ever after his constant companion by sea or land; and the day of her death was observed by him annually as a day of fasting, meditation and prayer.

From the death of his wife in 1765 to the end of the year 1769, Mr. Howard appears to have remained in England, and at Cardington as before, with the exception of a month or six weeks in the year 1767, which he devoted to a tour through Holland. His principal occupation during these four years was the education of his infant son. From the circumstance that this boy, when he arrived at the years of manhood, conducted himself in a profligate manner, and at last became insane, much attention has been drawn to Mr. Howard’s mode of educating him in his infancy; some insisting that his conduct as a parent was harsh and injudicious, others going so far as to asert that this man—​whom the world reveres as a philanthropist, and whose benevolent soul yearned for the whole human race—​was in his domestic relations a narrow and unfeeling tyrant. This last assertion—​although, abstractly considered, there is nothing impossible or absurd in it, inasmuch as we may conceive such a thing as real philanthropy on a large scale conjoined with inattention to one’s immediate duties as a husband or father—​appears to have absolutely no foundation whatever in Howard’s case; and to have originated either in malice, or in that vulgar love of effect which delights in finding striking incongruities in the characters of great men. Nor does the other assertion—​that Howard’s mode of educating his infant son was harsh and injudicious—​appear more worthy of credit. The truth seems to be, that Howard was a kind and benevolent man, of naturally Strict and methodical habits, who entertained, upon principle, high ideas of the authority of the head of a family. A friend of his relates that he has often heard him tell in company, as a piece of pleasantry, that before his marriage with his second wife he made an agreement with her, that in order to prevent all those little altercations about family matters which he had observed to be the principal causes of domestic discomfort, he should always decide. Mrs. Howard, he said, had cheerfully agreed to this arrangement; and it was attended with the best effects. The same principle of the supremacy of the head of a family—​a principle much less powerful in society now than it was a generation or two ago—​guided him in his behavior to his son. ‘Regarding children,’ says Dr. Aikin, ‘as creatures possessed of strong passions and desires, without reason and experience to control them, he thought that nature seemed, as it were, to mark them out as the subjects of absolute authority, and that the first and fundamental principle to be inculcated upon them was implicit and unlimited obedience.’ The plan of education here described may to some appear austere and injudicious, while others will cordially approve of it, as that recommended by experience and common sense; but at all events, the charges of harshness and cruelty which some have endeavored to found upon it are mere calumnies, refuted by all who knew Mr. Howard, and were witnesses to his affection for his son.

Sensible of the loss which the boy had sustained by the death of his mother, Mr. Howard placed him, in his fifth year, under the care of a lady in whom he had confidence, who kept a boarding-school at Cheshunt in Hertfordshire. This and other arrangements having been made, he went abroad on a fourth continental tour towards the end of 1769. Proceeding through the south of France, and spending a few weeks in Geneva, he visited most of the remarkable places in Italy, some of them for the second time; and returned home through Germany in the latter part of 1770, having been absent in all about twelve months.

When Howard had again settled at Cardington, he resumed his benevolent schemes of local improvement. It appears that the vicinity of Bedford, and Cardington especially, was inhabited by a very poor population, liable to frequent visitations of distress from the fluctuations of the only manufacture which yielded them employment—​that of lace; as well as generally from the unhealthy and marshy nature of the soil, rendering agues prevalent. Mr. Howard’s first care with respect to those to whom he was attached as landlord, was to improve their dwellings. ‘At different times,’ says his biographer, Mr. Brown, ‘he pulled down all the cottages on his estate, and rebuilt them in a neat but simple style, paying particular attention to their preservation, as much as possible, from the dampness of the soil. Others which were not his property before, he purchased, and reërected upon the same plan; adding to the number of the whole by building several new ones in different parts of the village. To each of these he allotted a piece of garden-ground, sufficient to supply the family of its occupier with potatoes and other vegetables; and generally ornamented them in front with a small fore-court, fenced off from the road by neat white palings, enclosing a bed or two of simple flowers, with here and there a shrub, or an evergreen; thus imparting to these habitations of the poor, with their white fronts and thatched roofs, that air of neatness and comfort so strikingly characteristic of everything in which he engaged.’ ‘These comfortable habitations, which he let at a rent of twenty or thirty shillings a year,’ says another biographer, Dr. Aikin, ‘he peopled with the most industrious and sober tenants he could find; and over them he exercised the superintendence of master and father combined. He was careful to furnish them with employment, to assist them in sickness and distress, and to educate their children.’ In consequence of these exertions of Mr. Howard, aided and seconded by those of his friend and relative, Samuel Whitbread, Esq., who possessed property in the same neighborhood, ‘Cardington, which seemed at one time to contain the abodes of poverty and wretchedness, soon became one of the neatest villages in the kingdom—​exhibiting all the pleasing appearances of competence and content, the natural rewards of industry and virtue.’ Industry and cleanliness were the two virtues which Mr. Howard sought by all means to naturalize among the villagers of Cardington. It was his custom to visit the houses of his tenants now and then, conversing with them on the state of their affairs. During such visits he was particular in requesting them to keep their houses clean; and it was one of his standing advices that they should ‘swill the floors well with water.’ After talking with the children, he would tell them, at parting, to be ‘good boys and girls, and keep their faces and hands clean.’

Among Mr. Howard’s other benefactions to the locality of Cardington, he established schools for the education of the boys and girls of the neighborhood, in the rudiments of knowledge. Of these it was strictly required that they should regularly attend some place of worship on Sundays; whether the established church, or any other, was indifferent, provided it was a church at all. His anxiety on this point also led him to convert one of his cottages into a preaching station, where the neighboring clergymen of different pursuasions, or occasionally a clergyman from a distance passing through the village, might officiate to such as chose to attend; and very rarely was the little congregation without at least one sermon a week. Mr. Howard, when at Cardington, was invariably present at these meetings. His regular place of worship was the Old Meeting-house at Bedford, of which the Rev. Mr. Symonds was pastor for 1766 to 1772. In the latter year, however, when Mr. Symonds declared his adherence to the theological tenets of the Baptists, Mr. Howard seceded along with a considerable part of the congregation, and established a new meeting-house. The truth is, however, that, with all his piety, and indeed on account of the very strength and sincerity of it, the theological differences of sects occupied very little space in his attention, and did not in the least affect his schemes of philanthropy; and though a dissenter of a particular denomination himself, dissenters of all other denominations, as well as members of the established church, were equally the objects of his respect and his benevolent solicitude.

The following recollections of Mr. Howard’s habits at this period, by the Rev. Mr. Townsend, who resided with him at Cardington for a short period, in the interval between the secession from the Old Meeting-house, and the erection of the new one, may be interesting: ‘He found him,’ he said, ‘not disposed to talk much; he sat but a short time at table, and was in motion during the whole day. He was very abstemious; lived chiefly on vegetables, ate little animal food, and drank no wine or spirits. He hated praise; and when Mr. Townsend once mentioned to him his labors of benevolence’—​not those general ones for which he is now so celebrated, but his exertions for the improvement of the condition of the people in his neighborhood—​‘he spoke of them slightingly, as a whim of his, and immediately changed the subject.’ ‘He was at all times,’ adds his biographer, Mr. Brown, ‘remarkably neat in his dress, but affected no singularity in it. Though he never thought it right to indulge in the luxuries of life, he did not despise its comforts. Wine or fermented liquors of any kind he himself never drank; but they were always provided, and that of the best quality, for his friends who chose to take them. He always maintained an intercourse of civility with some of the most considerable persons in the country, and was on visiting terms with the greater part of the country gentlemen around him, and with the most respectable inhabitants of the town of Bedford, churchmen and dissenters. His aversion to mix much with promiscuous assemblies was the result of his religious principles and habits, which taught him that this was no very profitable method of spending his time; yet however uncomplying he might be with the freedoms and irregularities of polite life, he was by no means negligent of its received forms; and though he might be denominated a man of scruples and singularities, no one would dispute his claim to the title of a gentleman.’

From these details our readers will be able to fancy Mr. Howard as he was in the year 1773—​a widower country gentleman, of plain, upright, methodical habits, aged about forty-six; devout and exemplary in his conduct, and a dissenter by profession, but without any strong prejudices for or against any sect; temperate and economical, but the very reverse of parsimonious; fond of traveling, and exceedingly attentive to what fell under his observation; of a disposition overflowing with kindness at the aspect of a miserable object, and prompting him to go out in search of wretchedness, and to distribute over his whole neighborhood the means of comfort and happiness. Such was Mr. Howard in the year 1773; and if he had then died, his name would never have been so celebrated as it is over the world, but would only have been remembered in the particular district where his lot was cast, as the names of many benevolent landlords and good men are locally remembered all over the country. Fortunately, however, a circumstance happened which opened for this unostentatious benefactor of a village a career of world-wide philanthropy. This was his election, in the year 1773, to the important office of high-sheriff of the county of Bedford. Regarding the special circumstances which led to his election to such a post, we have no information. It may be mentioned, however, that, in accepting the office, he subjected himself to the liability of a fine of £500—​the laws which disqualified dissenters from holding such offices not having been yet repealed, although they were practically set at defiance by the increasing liberality of the age. A story was indeed once current that Mr. Howard, on his nomination to the office, stated to earl Bathurst, then lord chancellor, his scruples about accepting it, arising from the fact of his not being a member of the Church of England; and that lord Bathurst, in reply, gave him an assurance of indemnification, in case any malicious person should endeavor to put the law in force against him. This story, however, does not appear to have been well-founded.

The duties of a high-sheriff in England are important and various. To him are addressed the writs commencing all actions, and he returns the juries for the trial of men’s lives, liberties, lands and goods. He executes the judgments of the courts. In his county he is the principal conservator of the peace. He presides in his own court as a judge; and he not only tries all causes of forty shillings in value, but also questions of larger amount. He presides at all elections of members of parliament and coroners. He apprehends all wrongdoers, and for that purpose, he is entitled to break open outer-doors to seize the offender. He defends the county against riot, or rebellion, or invasion. The sheriff takes precedence of all persons in the county. He is responsible for the execution of criminals. He receives and entertains the judges of assize, on whom he is constantly in attendance whilst they remain in his shire. To assist him in the performance of his duties, the sheriff employs an under-sheriff, and also a bailiff and jailers, from whom he takes security for their good conduct. Such was the office to which, fortunately for society, Mr. Howard was appointed at the annual election of sheriffs in the year 1773.

The office of high-sheriff became a different thing in the hands of such a man as Howard from what it had been before. It was no longer a mere honorable office, all the drudgery of which was performed by the under-sheriff; it was no longer the mere right of going in state twice a-year to meet the judges, and of presiding during the gayeties of an assize-week; it was a situation of real power and laborious well-doing. Already alive to the existence of numerous abuses in prison management—​as well by his general information respecting the institutions of the country, as by his own experience of prison life in France seventeen years before—​he had not been a month in office before all the faculties of his heart and soul were engaged in searching out and dragging into public notice the horrible corruptions and pollutions of the English prison system.

Within Mr. Howard’s own cognizance as sheriff of Bedfordshire, there were three prisons—​the county jail, the county bridewell, and the town jail, all in Bedford; and, as a matter of course, it was with these that his inquiries commenced. Various abuses struck him in their management, particularly in that of the county jail, the accommodations of which, whether for the purposes of work, health, or cleanliness, he found very deficient. But what roused his sense of justice most of all, was to find that the jailer had no salary, and depended for great part of his income on the following clause in the prison regulations:—​‘All persons that come to this place, either by warrant, commitment, or verbally, must pay, before being discharged, fifteen shillings and fourpence to the jailer, and two shillings to the turnkey.’ The effect which this and similar exactions from prisoners in the Bedford jail made upon him, will be best learned from his own statement prefixed to his ‘Account of the State of Prisons.’ ‘The distress of prisoners,’ he says, ‘of which there are few who have not some imperfect idea, came more immediately under my notice when I was sheriff of the county of Bedford; and the circumstance which excited me to activity in their behalf was seeing some who, by the verdict of juries, were declared not guilty—​some on whom the grand jury did not find such an appearance of guilt as subjected them to trial—​and some whose prosecutors did not appear against them—​after having been confined for months, dragged back to jail, and locked up again till they should pay sundry fees to the jailer, the clerk of assize, etc. In order to redress this hardship,’ he continues, ‘I applied to the justices of the county for a salary to the jailer in lieu of his fees. The bench were properly affected with the grievance, and willing to grant the relief desired; but they wanted a precedent for charging the county with the expense.’

With a view to find the precedent required, Mr. Howard undertook to visit the jails of some of the neighboring counties, that he might inquire into the practice adopted there. His first visits were to the jails of Cambridge and Huntingdon; and in the course of the same month—​November 1773—​he prosecuted his tour through those of the following counties in addition—​Northampton, Leicester, Nottingham, Derby, Stafford, Warwick, Worcester, Gloucester, Oxford, and Buckingham. In each and all of these jails he found abuses and grievances; different, indeed, in one from what they were in another, and in some fewer and less shocking than in others, but in all disgraceful to a civilized country. In all of them, the income of the jailer was derived, as at Bedford, from fees exacted from the prisoners, and not from a regular salary; nay, in one of them the sheriff himself drew fees from the prisoners; and in another, that of Northampton, the jailer, instead of having a salary, paid the county £40 a-year for his office. To enter into the details of his investigations of the abuses of the various prisons above enumerated, as these are given in the first edition of his ‘Account of the State of Prisons,’ would be impossible; suffice it to say, that Mr. Howard’s reports on the various jails he visited are not mere general assertions that this or that jail was defective in its arrangements, but laborious and minute accounts of the statistics of each—​containing in the briefest possible compass, every circumstance respecting every jail which it could possibly be useful to know. Indeed no parliamentary commission ever presented a more searching, clear, and accurate report than Howard’s account of the state of the prisons he visited.

His visits to the jails of the counties adjoining Bedford had only disclosed to him those depths of misery which he was yet to sound. ‘Looking into the prisons,’ he says, ‘I beheld scenes of calamity which I became daily more and more anxious to alleviate. In order, therefore, to gain a more perfect knowledge of the particulars and extent of it, by various and accurate observation, I visited most of the county jails in England.’ This more extensive tour was begun in December 1773, and by the 17th of that month he had inspected the jails of the counties of Hertford, Berks, Wilts, Dorset, Hants, and Sussex; occupying, therefore, it will be perceived, a much less space of time in his survey than most official commissioners, and yet probably doing the work much better. The next six weeks he appears to have spent at Cardington with his son, then about eight years of age, and at home no doubt on his Christmas vacation; but towards the end of January 1774, his philanthropic tour was resumed. The jails of Rutlandshire were first visited, then those of York: on his journey southward from York he passed through the shires of Lincoln, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex, visiting the prisons of each: a fortnight was then devoted to an examination of the monster prisons of London: from London he set out on a journey to the western counties, inspected the jails of Devon, Cornwall, Somerset, Hereford, and Monmouth; and, after a short absence, returned to London, having, in the course of three months of expeditious and extensive, but most thorough scrutiny, acquired more knowledge of the state of English prisons than was possessed by any other man then living. Such is the effect of having a definite object in view, and attending exclusively to it. If we measure ability by mere largeness of intellect, there were undoubtedly hundreds of abler men than Howard then alive in England; but what is the lazy and languid greatness of these intellectual do-nothings compared with the solid greatness of a man like Howard, who, gifted by God with a melting love for his fellow-men, laboriously and steadily pursued one object, made himself master of one department, and dragged into daylight one class of social abuses till then unknown or unheeded?

It happened by a fortunate conjunction, that at the time Mr. Howard was pursuing his prison inquiries, a few members of the legislature were interesting themselves in the same subject. In the previous session of parliament a bill had been introduced into the House of Commons by Mr. Popham, member for Taunton, proposing the payment of jailors, not by fees from the prisoners, as heretofore, but out of the county rates. The bill had been dropped in committee on the second reading; but the subject of prison management was resumed next session, the principal movers in the inquiry being Mr. Popham, and Mr. Howard’s intimate friends, Mr. St. John and Mr. Whitbread. It would appear that it had been in consequence of consultations with Mr. Howard that these gentlemen broached the subject in parliament at so early a period in the session; at all events, we find Mr. Howard immediately after his return from his western tour, examined before a committee of the whole House regarding his knowledge of the state of English prisons. So full and valuable were the details submitted to the committee by Mr. Howard, that on the House being resumed, the chairman of the committee, Sir Thomas Clavering, reported that ‘he was directed by the committee to move the House that John Howard, Esq., be called in to the bar, and that Mr. Speaker do acquaint him that the House are very sensible of the humanity and zeal which have led him to visit the several jails of this kingdom, and to communicate to the House the interesting observations he has made upon that subject.’ The motion was adopted unanimously; and Mr. Howard had, accordingly, the honor of receiving the public thanks of the House for his philanthropic exertions. To show however, how little the spirit which animated these exertions was understood or appreciated, we may mention that it is related that during his examination before the committee, one member put the question to him, ‘At whose expense he traveled?’

Mr. Howard, however, was still only at the commencement of his labors. In the month of March 1774, only a few days after receiving the thanks of the House of Commons, he set out for the extreme north of England, to visit the jails there. In an incredibly short space of time he had traversed the counties of Durham, Northumberland, Cumberland, Westmoreland, Lancaster, Chester, and Shropshire, visiting the jails in each; then, after revisiting those of Stafford, Derby, Nottingham, Leicester, and Northampton, he returned home to Cardington; from which, after a week’s repose he sent out for Kent. With the examination of the jails of Kent, Mr. Howard’s first survey of the jails of England may be said to have been finished. To give once for all, an idea of the minute and thorough manner in which he discharged his self-imposed duty, we may quote his remarks on the county jail at Durham. After giving a list of the officials and their salaries, he proceeds thus:—​‘The high jail is the property of the bishop. By patent from his lordship, Sir Hedworth Williamson, Bart., is perpetual sheriff. The court for master’s side debtors is only 24 feet by 10: they are permitted sometimes to walk on the leads. They have beds in the upper hall, and in several other rooms. Their rooms should be ceiled, that they might be lime-whited, to prevent infectious disorders, and that great nuisance of bugs, of which the debtors complain much here and other places. Common side debtors have no court; their free wards, the low jail, are two damp, unhealthy rooms, 10 feet 4 inches square by the gateway. They are never suffered to go out of these except to chapel, which is the master’s side debtor’s hall; and not always to that: for on Sunday, when I was there, and missed them at chapel, they told me they were not permitted to go thither. No sewers. At more than one of my visits I learned that the dirt, ashes, etc., had lain there many months. There is a double-barreled pump, which raises water about 70 feet. Felons have no court; but they have a day-room, and two small rooms for an infirmary. The men are put at night into dungeons: one, 7 feet square, for three prisoners; another, the great hole, 16½ feet by 12, has only a little window. In this I saw six prisoners, most of them transports, chained to the floor. In this situation they had been for many weeks, and were very sickly; their straw on the stone floor almost worn to dust. Long confinement, and not having the king’s allowance of two shillings and sixpence a-week, had urged them to attempt an escape; after which the jailer had chained them as already mentioned. There is another dungeon for women felons, 12 feet by 8; and up stairs, a separate room or two. The common side debtors in the low jail, whom I saw eating boiled bread and water, told me that this was the only nourishment some had lived upon for near a twelvemonth. They have, from a legacy, one shilling and a sixpence a-week in winter and one shilling a-week in summer, for coals. No memorandum of it in the jail: perhaps this may in time be lost, as the jailer said two others were—​namely, one of Bishop Crewe, and another of Bishop Wood, from which prisoners had received no benefit for some years past. But now the bishop has humanely filed bills in Chancery, and recovered these legacies, by which several debtors have been discharged. Half-a-crown a-week is paid to a woman for supplying the debtors with water in the two rooms on the side of the gateway. The act for preserving the health of prisoners is not hung up. Jail delivery once a-year. At several of my visits there were boys between thirteen and fifteen years of age confined with the most profligate and abandoned. There was a vacant piece of ground adjacent, of little use but for the jailor’s occasional lumber. It extends to the river, and measures about 22 yards by 16. I once and again advised the enclosing this for a court, as it might be done with little expense; and it appears that formerly here was a doorway into the prison. But when I was there afterwards in January 1776, I had the mortification to hear that the surgeon, who was uncle to the jailer, had obtained from the bishop, in October preceding, a lease of it for twenty-one years, at the rent of one shilling per annum. He had built a little stable on it.’

Having completed his survey of the English jails, Mr. Howard turned his attention next to those of Wales; and by the end of the autumn of 1774, he appears to have visited the principal jails in that principality. During these last months the field of his inquiries had been extended, so as to embrace a new department. ‘Seeing,’ he says ‘in two or three of the jails some poor creatures whose aspect was singularly deplorable, and asking the cause of it, the answer was, ‘They were lately brought from the bridewells.’ This started a fresh subject of inquiry. I resolved to inspect the bridewells; and for that purpose traveled again into the counties where I had been; and indeed into all the rest, examining houses of correction, city and town jails. I beheld in many of them, as well as in the county jails, a complication of distress.’

Mr. Howard’s philanthropic labors for now nearly a twelve-month had of course made him an object of public attention, and it became obviously desirable to have such a man in parliament. Accordingly, at the election of 1774, he was requested by a number of the electors of Bedford to allow himself to be put in nomination for that town, in the independent interest, along with his friend Mr. Whitbread. Mr. Howard consented; but when the polling had taken place, the numbers stood thus—​Sir William Wake, 527 votes; Mr. Sparrow, 517; Mr. Whitbread, 429; and Mr. Howard, 402. A protest was taken by the supporters of Mr. Whitbread and Mr. Howard, most of whom were dissenters, against the election of the two former gentlemen, on the ground that the returning officers had acted unfairly in rejecting many legally good votes for Messrs. Whitbread and Howard, receiving many legally bad ones for the other two candidates. Petitions impeaching the return were also presented to the House of Commons by Mr. Whitbread and Mr. Howard.

Nothing, however, could divert our philanthropist from his own peculiar walk of charity, and the interval between the election and the hearing of the petitions against its validity was diligently employed by him in a tour through Scotland and Ireland, for the purpose of inspecting the prisons there, and comparing them with those of England and Wales. With the Scotch system of prison management he seems to have been, on the whole, much better pleased than with that of England; and he mentions, with particular approbation, that in Scotland ‘all criminals are tried out of irons; and when acquitted, they are immediately discharged in open court,’ and that ‘women are not put in irons.’ Still he found sufficient grounds for complaint in the state of the prisons themselves. ‘The prisons,’ he says, ‘that I saw in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Perth, Stirling, Jedburgh, Haddington, Ayr, Kelso, Nairn, Banff, Inverness, etc., were old buildings, dirty and offensive, without courtyards, and also generally without water.’ ‘The tolbooth at Inverness,’ he afterwards observes, ‘has no fire place, and is the most dirty and offensive prison that I have seen in Scotland.’ In the Irish prisons he found, as might have been expected, abuses even more shocking than those he had generally met with in England.

In March 1775, Mr. Howard having by this time returned to England, his petition and that of Mr. Whitbread against the return of Sir William Wake and Mr. Sparrow were taken into consideration by a committee of the House of Commons. On a revision of the poll, the numbers, after adding the good votes which had been rejected, and striking off the bad ones which had been accepted, stood thus—​Mr. Whitbread, 568; Sir William Wake, 541; Mr. Howard, 537; Mr. Sparrow, 529. Thus, although by a small majority, Mr. Howard lost the election; his friend, Mr. Whitbread, who had formerly been in the same predicament, was now returned at the top of the poll in lieu of Mr. Sparrow.

It was perhaps a fortunate circumstance for the world that Mr. Howard did not succeed in being returned to parliament. He might no doubt have been of great service as a member of the legislature; but his true function was that which he had already chosen for himself—​a voluntary and unofficial inquirer into the latent miseries of human society. It was not so much as a propounder of schemes of social improvement that Mr. Howard appeared; it was rather as an explorer of unvisited scenes of wretchedness, who should drag into the public gaze all manner of grievances, in order that the general wisdom and benevolence of the country might be brought to bear upon them. In a complex state of society, where wealth and poverty, comfort and indigence, are naturally separated from each other as far as possible, so that the eyes and ears of the upper classes may not be offended and nauseated by the sights and sounds of wo, the interference of this class of persons—​inspectors, as they may be called, whose business it is to see and report—​is among the most necessary of all acts for social wellbeing.

Mr. Howard having completed his survey of the prisons of Great Britain, began to prepare his reports for publication. ‘I designed,’ says he, ‘to publish the account of our prisons in the spring of 1775, after I returned from Scotland and Ireland. But conjecturing that something useful to my purpose might be collected abroad, I laid aside my papers, and traveled into France, Flanders, Holland, and Germany.’ The precise route which he pursued during this, his fifth continental tour, is not known; he appears, however, to have gone to France first. He gives the following account of his attempt to gain admission to the famous Bastile of Paris. ‘I was desirous of examining it myself, and for that purpose knocked hard at the outer gate, and immediately went forward through the guard to the drawbridge before the entrance of the castle. But while I was contemplating this gloomy mansion, an officer came out much surprised, and I was forced to retreat through the mute guard, and thus regained that freedom which, for one locked up within those walls, it is next to impossible to obtain.’ On this singular adventure of Mr. Howard one of his biographers makes the following remark. ‘In the space of four centuries, from the foundation to the destruction of the Bastile, perhaps Mr. Howard was the only person that was ever compelled to quit it reluctantly.’ Although denied admission to the Bastile, Mr. Howard was able to obtain entrance into the other prisons of Paris. His first application, indeed, for admittance to the Grand Chatelet was unsuccessful; but happening to remark that, by the tenth article of the arrêt of 1717, jailers were authorized to admit persons desirous of bestowing charity on the prisoners, he pleaded it before the Commissaire de la Prison; and in this way gained admission not only to that prison, but to the others. Except for the horrible subterranean dungeons, in which he found that certain classes of prisoners were sometimes confined in France, he appears to have considered the prisons in that country better managed than those of England.

Mr. Howard’s proceedings in France, French Flanders, and the Netherlands, will be best gathered from the following letter to a friend:—​‘I came late last night to this city; the day I have employed in visiting the jails, and collecting all the criminal laws, as I have got those of France. However rigorous they may be, yet their great care and attention to their prisons is worthy of commendation: all fresh and clean; no jail distemper; no prisoners ironed. The bread allowance far exceeds that of any of our jails; for example, every prisoner here has two pounds of bread a-day; once a-day, soup; and on Sunday, one pound of meat. I write to you, my friend, for a relaxation from what so much engrosses my thoughts. And indeed I force myself to the public dinners and suppers for that purpose, though I show so little respect to a set of men who are so highly esteemed (the French cooks), that I have not tasted fish, flesh, or fowl since I have been this side the water. Through a kind Providence I am very well; calm, easy in spirits. The public voitures have not been crowded, and I have met, in general, agreeable company. I hope to be in Holland the beginning of next week.’

After visiting the principal prisons in Holland and part of Germany, most of which seem to have particularly pleased him, when contrasted with those at home, Mr. Howard returned to England in the end of July, 1775. Not to rest, however; for he immediately commenced a second survey of the English prisons. This was interrupted, in the beginning of the year 1776, when he made a trip to Switzerland to visit the Swiss jails, taking some of the French ones in his way. Returning to England, he resumed his second survey of the English and Welsh prisons; and when this was completed to his satisfaction in the beginning of 1777, he took up his residence for the spring at the town of Warrington, in Lancashire, where he had resolved to have his work on prisons printed. His reasons for printing the book there, rather than in London, were various; one of them was, that he wished to be near his friend Dr. (then Mr.) Aikin, employed as a surgeon in Warrington, whose literary talents were of assistance to him in fitting the work for publication. Dr. Aikin gives the following account of the process which Mr. Howard’s notes underwent, in order to qualify them for being sent to press—​his own composition, as our readers are already aware, being none of the most correct in a grammatical point of view. ‘On his return from his tours,’ says Dr. Aikin, ‘he took all his memorandum-books to an old, retired friend of his, who assisted him in methodising them, and copied out the whole matter in correct language. They were then put into the hands of Dr. Price, from whom they underwent a revision, and received occasionally considerable alterations. With his papers thus corrected, Mr. Howard came to the press at Warrington; and first he read them all over carefully to me, which perusal was repeated sheet by sheet, as they were printed. As new facts and observations were continually suggesting themselves to his mind, he put the matter of them upon paper as they occurred, and then requested me to clothe them in such expressions as I thought proper. On these occasions such was his diffidence, that I found it difficult to make him acquiesce in his own language, when, as frequently happened, it was unexceptionable. Of this additional matter, some was interwoven with the text, but the greater part was necessarily thrown into notes.’ So intent was he upon the publication of the work, that, ‘for the purpose,’ we are told by his biographer, Mr. Brown, ‘of being near the scene of his labors, he took lodgings in a house close to his printer’s shop; and during a very severe winter he was always called up by two in the morning, though he did not retire to rest till ten. His reason for this early rising was, that in the morning he was least disturbed in his work of revising the sheets as they came from the press. At seven he regularly dressed for the day, and had his breakfast; when, punctually at eight, he repaired to the printing-office, and remained there till the workmen went to dinner at one, when he returned to his lodgings, and putting some bread and raisins, or other dried fruit, in his pocket, generally took a walk in the outskirts of the town, eating, as he walked, his hermit fare, which, with a glass of water on his return, was the only dinner he took. When he had returned to the printing-office, he generally remained there until the men left work, and then repaired to Mr. Aikin’s house, to go through with him any sheets which might have been composed during the day; or, if there were nothing upon which he wished to consult him, he would either spend an hour with some friend, or return to his own lodgings, where he took his tea or coffee in lieu of supper, and at his usual hour retired to bed.’

In April 1777 appeared the work which had cost him so much labor. Its title was, ‘The State of the Prisons in England and Wales, with Preliminary Observations, and an Account of some Foreign Prisons. By John Howard, F.R.S.’ Although the work was very bulky, consisting of 520 quarto pages, with four large plates, yet ‘so zealous was he,’ says Dr Aikin, ‘to diffuse information, and so determined to obviate any idea that he meant to repay his expenses by the profitable trade of book-making, that he insisted on fixing the price of the volume so low, that, had every copy been sold, he would still have presented the public with all the plates and great part of the printing.’ Besides, he distributed copies profusely among all persons who possessed, or might possibly possess, influence in carrying his benevolent views into effect. ‘As soon as the book appeared,’ continues Dr. Aikin, ‘the world was astonished at the mass of valuable materials accumulated by a private unaided individual, through a course of prodigious labor, and at the constant hazard of life, in consequence of the infectious diseases prevalent in the scenes of his inquiries. The cool good sense and moderation of his narrative, contrasted with that enthusiastic ardor which must have impelled him to the undertaking, were not less admired; and he was immediately regarded as one of the extraordinary characters of the age, and as a leader in all plans of meliorating the condition of that wreched part of the community for whom he interested himself.’

To give an idea of the extent of the evils of the prison system in the time of Howard, and of the thorough manner in which these were taken cognizance of by him, we will present our readers with an abridgment of the introductory section of his work, in which, before passing to his special report on the state of the various prisons which he had visited, he gives a summary, or ‘General View of Distress in Prisons.’ The extracts will be found not only interesting in their connexion with Howard’s life, but also interesting in themselves.

‘There are prisons,’ he begins, ‘into which whoever looks will, at first sight of the people confined, be convinced that there is some great error in the management of them; their sallow, meagre countenances declare, without words, that they are very miserable. Many who went in healthy, are in a few months changed to emaciated, dejected objects. Some are seen pining under diseases, ‘sick and in prison,’ expiring on the floors, in loathsome cells, of pestilential fevers and confluent small-pox; victims, I must not say to the cruelty, but I will say to the inattention, of sheriffs and gentlemen in the commission of the peace. The cause of this distress is, that many prisons are scantily supplied, and some almost totally destitute, of the necessaries of life.

‘Food.—​There are several bridewells in which prisoners have no allowance of food at all. In some, the keeper farms what little is allowed them; and where he engages to supply each prisoner with one or two pennyworths of bread a-day, I have known this shrunk to half, sometimes less than half the quantity—​out of, or broken from, his own loaf. It will perhaps be asked—​Does not their work maintain them? The answer to that question, though true, will hardly be believed. There are few bridewells in which any work is done, or can be done. The prisoners have neither tools nor materials of any kind, but spend their time in sloth, profaneness, and debauchery, to a degree which, in some of those houses that I have seen, is extremely shocking.… The same complaint—​want of food—​is to be found in many county jails. In above half of these debtors have no bread, although it is granted to the highwayman, the housebreaker, and the murderer; and medical assistance, which is provided for the latter, is withheld from the former. In many of these jails, debtors who would work are not permitted to have any tools, lest they should furnish felons with them for escape, or other mischief. I have often seen these prisoners eating their water-soup (bread boiled in mere water), and heard them say, ‘We are locked up, and almost starved to death.’ As to the relief provided for debtors by the benevolent act 32d of George II, I did not find in all England and Wales, except in the counties of Middlesex and Surrey, twelve debtors who had obtained from their creditors the fourpence a-day to which they had a right by that act. The truth is, some debtors are the most pitiable objects in our jails. To their wanting necessary food, I must add not only the demands of jailers, etc., for fees, but also the extortion of bailiffs. These detain in their houses (properly enough denominated spunging-houses), at an enormous expense, prisoners who have money. I know there is a legal provision against this oppression; but the mode of obtaining redress is attended with difficulty, and the abuse continues. The rapine of these extortioners needs some more effectual and easy check: no bailiff should be suffered to keep a public-house.… Felons have in some jails two pennyworth of bread a-day; in some, three halfpennyworth; in some, a pennyworth; in some, none. I often weighed the bread in different prisons, and found the penny loaf seven ounces and a half to eight ounces; the other loaves in proportion. It is probable that, when this allowance was fixed by its value, near double the quantity that the money will now purchase might be bought for it; yet the allowance continues unaltered, and it is not uncommon to see the whole purchase, especially of the smaller sums, eaten at breakfast—​which is sometimes the case when they receive their pittance but once in two days; and then on the following day, they must fast. This allowance being so far short of the cravings of nature, and in some prisons lessened by farming to the jailer, many criminals are half-starved; such of them as at their commitment were in health, come out almost famished, scarcely able to move, and for weeks incapable of labor.

‘Water.—​Many prisons have no water. This defect is frequent in bridewells and town jails. In the felon’s courts of some county jails there is no water; in some places where there is water, prisoners are always locked up within doors, and have no more than the keeper or his servants think fit to bring them; in one place they were limited to three pints a-day each—​a scanty provision for drink and cleanliness.

‘Air.—​And as to air, my reader will judge of the malignity of that breathed in prisons, when I assure him that my clothes were, in my first journeys, so offensive, that in a postchaise I could not bear the windows drawn up, and was therefore obliged to travel commonly on horseback. The leaves of my memorandum-book were often so tainted, that I could not use it till after spreading it an hour or two before the fire; and even my antidote—​a vial of vinegar—​has, after using it in a few prisons, be come intolerably disagreeable. I did not wonder that in those journeys, many jailors made excuses, and did not go with me into the felons’ wards. From hence any one may judge of the probability there is against the health and life of prisoners crowded in close rooms, cells, and subterranean dungeons for fourteen or fifteen hours out of the four-and-twenty. In some of these caverns the floor is very damp; in others there is an inch or two of water; and the straw, or bedding, is laid on such floors—​seldom on barrack bedsteads. Where prisoners are not kept in underground cells, they are often confined to their rooms, because there is no court belonging to the prison—​which is the case in many city and town jails; or because the walls round the yard are ruinous, or too low for safety; or because the jailor has the ground for his own use. Some jails have no sewers or vaults; and in those that have, if they be not properly attended to, they are, even to a visitor, offensive beyond description. How noxious, therefore, to people constantly confined in those prisons! One cause why the rooms in some prisons are so close, is the window tax, which the jailors have to pay; this tempts them to stop the windows, and stifle the prisoners.

‘Bedding.—​In many jails, and in most bridewells, there is no allowance of bedding or straw for prisoners to sleep on; and if by any means they get a little, it is not changed for months together, so that it is offensive, and almost worn to dust. Some lie upon rags, others upon the bare floors. When I have complained of this to the keepers, the justification has been, The county allows no straw; the prisoners have none but at my cost.

‘Morals.—​I have now to complain of what is pernicious to the morals of prisoners; and that is, the confining all sorts of prisoners together—​debtors and felons, men and women, the young beginner and the old offender; and with all these, in some counties, such as are guilty of misdemeanors only. In some jails you see—​and who can see it without sorrow?—​boys of twelve and fourteen eagerly listening to the stories told by practised criminals of their adventures, successes, stratagems, and escapes.

‘Lunatics.—​In some few jails are confined idiots and lunatics. These serve for sport to idle visitants at assizes, and at other times of general resort. Many of the bridewells are crowded and offensive, because the rooms which were designed for prisoners are occupied by the insane. When these are not kept separate they disturb and terrify the other prisoners.

‘Jail Fever.—​I am ready to think that none who have given credit to what is contained in the foregoing pages, will wonder at the havoc made by the jail fever. From my own observations in 1773, 1774, and 1775, I was fully convinced that many more prisoners were destroyed by it than were put to death by all the public executions in the kingdom.[3] This frequent effect of confinement in prison seems generally understood, and shows how full of emphatical meaning is the curse of a severe creditor, who pronounces his debtor’s doom to rot in jail. I believe I have learnt the full import of this sentence from the vast numbers who, to my certain knowledge, and some of them before my eyes, have perished by the jail fever. But the mischief is not confined to prisons. In Baker’s Chronicle, p. 353, that historian, mentioning the assize held in Oxford in 1577 (called, from its fatal consequences, the Black Assize), informs us that ‘all who were present died within forty hours—​the lord chief baron, the sheriff, and about three hundred more’—​all being infected by the prisoners who were brought into court. Lord Bacon observes, that ‘the most pernicious infection next the plague, is the smell of a jail when the prisoners have been long, and close, and nastily kept; whereof,’ he says, ‘we have had in our time experience twice or thrice, when both the judges that sat upon the jail, and numbers of those who attended the business, or were present, sickened and died.’ At the Lent assize in Taunton, 1730, some prisoners who were brought thither from Ivelchester jail infected the court; and lord chief baron Pengelly, Sir James Sheppard, sergeant, John Pigot, Esq., sheriff, and some hundreds besides, died all of the jail distemper. At Axminster, a little town in Devonshire, a prisoner discharged from Exeter jail in 1755, infected his family with that disease, of which two of them died; and many others in that town afterwards. The numbers that were carried off by the same malady in London in 1750—​two judges, the lord mayor, one alderman, and many of inferior rank—​are well known. It were easy to multiply instances of the mischief; but those which have been mentioned are, I presume, sufficient to show, even if no mercy were due to prisoners, that the jail distemper is a national concern of no small importance.[4]

‘Vicious examples.—​The general prevalence and spread of wickedness in prisons and abroad by discharged prisoners, will now be as easily accounted for as the propagation of disease. It is often said, ‘a prison pays no debts;’ I am sure it may be added, that a prison mends no morals. Sir John Fielding observes, that ‘a criminal discharged, generally by the next session after the execution of his comrades, becomes the head of a gang of his own raising.’ And petty offenders who are committed to bridewell for a year or two, and spend that time, not in hard labor, but in idleness and wicked company, or are sent for that time to county jails, generally grow desperate, and come out fitted for the perpetration of any villainy. Half the robberies in and about London are planned in the prisons, and by that dreadful assemblage of criminals, and the number of idle people who visit them. Multitudes of young creatures, committed for some trifling offense, are totally ruined there. I make no scruple to affirm, that if it were the wish and aim of magistrates to effect the destruction, present and future, of young delinquents, they could not devise a more effectual method than to confine them so long in our prisons, those seats and seminaries of idleness and every vice.

‘These gentlemen who, when they are told of the misery which our prisoners suffer, content themselves with saying, “let them take care to keep out,” prefaced perhaps with an angry prayer, seem not duly sensible of the favor of Providence which distinguishes them from the sufferers. They do not remember that we are required to imitate our gracious Heavenly Parent, who is kind to the unthankful and to the evil; they also forget the vicissitudes of human affairs; the unexpected changes to which all men are liable; and that those whose circumstances are affluent, may in time be reduced to indigence, and become debtors and prisoners. As to criminality, it is possible that a man who has often shuddered at hearing the account of a murder, may, on a sudden temptation, commit that very crime. Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall, and commiserate those that are fallen.’

Such, in an abridged form, is the introductory section of Mr. Howard’s work, entitled ‘A General View of Distress in Prisons;’ but in order fully to appreciate the enormous extent of his labors, it would be necessary to follow him into the remainder of the work, in which he describes and criticises, one by one, the various prisons, both foreign and British, which he had visited during the preceding four years. It is only in this way that one can gain an adequate conception of the misery and wretchedness of the prison system of Great Britain in the latter part of the eighteenth century.

Mr. Howard did not consider that his labors were over when he had published his work on prisons, and laid before the world grievances which had long flourished in society undetected and unknown. In the end of the first edition of his work, he had made a promise that, ‘if the legislature should seriously engage in the reformation of our prisons, he would take a third journey through the Prussian and Austrian dominions, and the free cities of Germany. This,’ he says, ‘I accomplished in 1778, and likewise extended my tour through Italy, and revisited some of the countries I had before seen in pursuit of my object.’ His observations during this tour he published in a second edition of his work in 1780. Wishing, before the publication of a third edition, to acquire some further knowledge on the subject, he again visited Holland, and some cities in Germany. ‘I visited also,’ he says, ‘the capitals of Denmark, Sweden, Russia, and Poland; and, in 1783, some cities in Portugal and Spain, and returned through France, Flanders, and Holland.’ The substance of all these travels he threw into a third and final edition of his work on prisons.

Thus, during ten years, had Howard labored incessantly at a single object, allowing no other to interfere with it; traveling almost without intermission from place to place, and undergoing innumerable risks. From a table drawn up by one of his biographers, it appears that, between 1773 and 1783, he had traveled on his missions of philanthropy, at home and abroad, upwards of forty thousand miles. Forty thousand miles traveled in ten years!—​not from mountain to mountain, or from one object of natural beauty to another, but from jail to jail, and bridewell to bridewell—​no wonder that Howard, on the retrospect of such a labor fairly accomplished, wrote in his diary, ‘I bless God who inclined my mind to such a scheme.’

During his journeys in Great Britain and Ireland, Mr. Howard was usually accompanied by a single servant. He traveled generally on horseback, at the rate of forty miles a-day. ‘He was never,’ says his biographer, Dr. Aikin, ‘at a loss for an inn. When in Ireland, or the Highlands of Scotland, he used to stop at one of the poor cabins that stuck up a rag by way of sign, and get a little milk. When he came to the town he was to sleep at, he bespoke a supper, with wine and beer, like another traveler; but made his man attend him, and take it away while he was preparing his bread and milk. He always paid the waiters, postilions, etc., liberally, because he would have no discontent or dispute, nor suffer his spirits to be agitated for such a matter; saying that, in a journey which might cost three or four hundred pounds, fifteen or twenty pounds in addition were not worth thinking about.’

In the spring of 1784 Mr. Howard, now about fifty-seven years of age, retired to his estate of Cardington, intending to spend the remainder of his life in peace and quiet, assisting in his private capacity in furthering those schemes of prison improvement which his disclosures had set on foot. He resumed the mode of life which he had led before commencing his prison inquiries; with this difference, that, being now a distinguished public character, his visitors were more frequent and more numerous than formerly. There was one sad circumstance, however, which embittered the peace of this benevolent man. His only son, who had received his early education at several academies in England, and had been sent in his eighteenth year to the university of Edinburgh, and placed under the care of the venerable and well-known Dr. Blacklock, had unhappily contracted habits of extravagance and dissipation; which, to any parent, and especially to one of Howard’s principles, must have caused poignant grief. Already the unfortunate young man had shown symptoms of that malady, brought on by his own imprudent and vicious conduct, which ultimately settled into complete insanity. Of the full extent of this domestic misfortune Mr. Howard was not yet aware.

After nearly two years of repose, interrupted only by the circumstance to which we have alluded, Mr. Howard resolved to quit home on a new mission of philanthropy, fraught with greater danger than the one he had accomplished so successfully. During his inquiries into the state of prisons, his attention had been often directed to the spread of infectious diseases, and the inadequacy of the means provided for checking the progress of fever, pestilence, etc., whether originating in jails or elsewhere. The subject thus suggested to him occupied much of his thoughts during his leisure at Cardington; and he at length determined to devote the remainder of his life to an inspection of the principal hospitals and lazarettos of Europe, with a view to ascertain their defects, and the possibility of effecting such improvements in them as would in future preserve the populations of Europe from the ravages of that dreadful visitation—​the plague.

Towards the end of November 1785, Mr. Howard left England on his new expedition of philanthropy. He proceeded first to France, with a view to inspect the lazaretto at Marseilles; but, owing to the jealousy of the French government, it was with the utmost difficulty he could accomplish his object; indeed he narrowly escaped apprehension and committal to the Bastile. After visiting the hospitals of Genoa, Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence, he next proceeded to Rome. Here he was privately introduced to Pope Pius VI, himself a benevolent man. On this occasion the ceremony of kissing the pope’s toe was dispensed with; and at parting, his holiness laid his hand on his visitor’s head, saying kindly, ‘I know you Englishmen do not mind these ceremonies, but the blessing of an old man can do you no harm.’ From Rome our traveler went to Naples, and thence to Malta, pursuing always, as his single object, a knowledge of the state of the hospitals on his route. Writing from Malta to a friend in England, he says, ‘I have paid two visits to the Grand Master. Every place is flung open to me. I am bound for Zante, Smyrna, and Constantinople. One effect I find during my visits to the lazaretto; namely a heavy headache—​a pain across my forehead; but it has always quite left me in an hour after I have come from these places. As I am quite alone, I have need to summon all my courage and resolution.’

After remaining about three weeks at Malta, Mr. Howard set out for Zante. ‘From thence,’ he says, ‘in a foreign ship I got a passage to Smyrna. Here I boldly visited the hospitals and prisons; but as some accidents happened, a few dying of the plague, several shrunk at me. I came thence to Constantinople, where I now am, about a fortnight ago. As I was in a miserable Turk’s boat, I was lucky in a passage of six days and a half. I am sorry to say some die of the plague about us. One is just carried before my window; yet I visit where none of my conductors will accompany me. In some hospitals, as in the lazarettos, and yesterday among the sick slaves, I have a constant headache; but in about an hour after it always leaves me. I lodge at a physician’s house, and I keep some of my visits a secret.’ From Constantinople he returned to Smyrna, where the plague was also raging; his object being to obtain a passage from that port to Venice, in order that he might undergo the full rigors of the quarantine system, and be able to report, from personal observation, respecting the economy of a lazaretto. On the voyage from Smyrna to Venice, the ship in which he sailed was attacked by a Tunis privateer, and all on board ran great risks. At length, after a desperate fight, a cannon loaded with spikes, nails, and old iron, and pointed by Mr. Howard himself, was discharged with such effect upon the corsair vessel, that it was obliged to sheer off. From Venice he writes thus to his confidential servant Thomasson, at Cardington; the letter being dated Venice Lazaretto, October 12, 1786:—​‘I am now in an infectious lazaretto, yet my steady spirits never forsook me till yesterday, on the receipt of my letters. Accumulated misfortunes almost sink me. I am sorry, very sorry, on your account. I will hasten home; no time will I lose by night or day. But forty days I have still to be confined here, as our ship had a foul bill of health, the plague being in the place from whence we sailed. Then that very hasty and disagreeable measure that is taken in London wounds me sadly indeed. Never have I returned to my country with such a heavy heart as I now do.’ The two circumstances which he alludes to in this extract as distressing him so much, and making him so anxious to leave Venice and return home, were the misconduct of his son, of which he had received further accounts, and a proposal which had just been made in London, and of which intelligence had been conveyed to him, to erect a monument to commemorate the nation’s sense of his former philanthropic labors.

The term of his quarantine at Venice being finished, he proceeded to Trieste, and thence to Vienna. How the thoughts of his sad domestic affliction mingled and struggled with his daily exertions in connexion with the great object of his tour, we may learn from the following touching postscript to a letter to Mr. Smith of Bedford, written from Vienna, and dated 17th December 1786:—​‘Excuse writing, etc., as wrote early by a poor lamp. What I suffered, I am persuaded I should have disregarded in the lazaretto, as I gained useful information. Venice is the mother of all lazarettos; but oh, my son, my son!’ At Vienna Mr. Howard had an interview with the Austrian emperor, who entered into conversation with him on the subject of his tour, discussed with him the state of the prisons and hospitals in his Austrian dominions, and expressed his intention to adopt some of his suggestions for their improvement. The attention shown by the emperor to his distinguished visitor procured him the notice of many of the courtiers; and a characteristic anecdote is told of his interview with the governor of Upper Austria and his lady. The Austrian noble asked Howard, in a somewhat haughty manner, what he thought of the prisons in his government. ‘The worst in all Germany,’ said Howard; ‘particularly as regards the female prisoners; and I recommend your countess to visit them personally, as the best means of rectifying the abuses in their management.’ ‘I!’ said the astonished countess; ‘I go into prisons!’ and she rapidly descended the staircase with her husband, as if shocked beyond measure. The philanthropist indignantly followed, and called after her, ‘Madam, remember you are but a woman yourself; and must soon, like the most miserable female in a dungeon, inhabit a little piece of that earth from which both of you sprung.’

Returning home in February 1787, after an absence of fifteen months, Mr. Howard found his unhappy son a confirmed and incurable lunatic. For some time he attempted to keep him in his own house at Cardington, under a mild restraint; at length, however, he yielded to the advice of the medical attendants, and suffered him to be removed to a well conducted asylum at Leicester.

The proposal to erect a memorial to Mr. Howard, was so strenuously resisted by him on his return to England, that it was obliged to be given up. Out of £1533 which had been subscribed for the purpose, about £500 pounds were returned to the donors: the remainder was placed in the stocks—​£200 of it being employed in obtaining the discharge of fifty-five poor prisoners in London, a similar sum in the striking of a medal in memory of Howard, and the rest being appropriated, after his death, to the object for which it had been collected. Howard’s opposition to the scheme of erecting to him any species of monument, amounted to positive antipathy; indeed nothing was more remarkable in his character than his dislike to be praised for what he had done. When one gentleman happened to speak to him respecting his services to society in a flattering manner, Howard interrupted him by saying, ‘My dear sir, what you call my merit is just my hobby-horse.’

The three years which followed Mr. Howard’s return from his first tour through the lazarettos of Europe, were spent by him in a new general inspection of the English, Scotch, and Irish prisons, with a view to ascertain whether any improvements had been effected in them since his former survey; and in the preparation of a work giving an account of his recent continental journey. This work was entitled, ‘An Account of the Principal Lazarettos of Europe, with Papers Relative to the Plague;’ and was published in the year 1789. It contained, in the form of an appendix, additional remarks on the state of British prisons.

In the conclusion of his work on Lazarettos, Howard announced his intention of again quitting England to visit the hospitals of Russia, Turkey and the Eastern countries, in order to gain more accurate and extensive views of the plague. ‘I am not insensible,’ he says, ‘of the dangers that must attend such a journey. Trusting, however, in the protection of that Providence which has hitherto preserved me, I calmly and cheerfully commit myself to the disposal of unerring wisdom.’ ‘Should it please God to cut off my life in the prosecution of this design, let not my conduct be uncandidly imputed to rashness or enthusiasm, but to a serious, deliberate conviction that I am pursuing the path of duty, and to a sincere desire of being made an instrument of more extensive usefulness to my fellow-creatures than could be expected in the narrower circle of a retired life.’ With regard to his objects in undertaking this journey, his biographer, Dr. Aikin, observes that he had various conversations with him on the subject; and found rather a wish to have objects of inquiry pointed out to him by others, than any specific views present to his own mind.

On the 4th of July 1789, Mr. Howard, accompanied by a single servant, quitted England on his last philanthropic journey. He passed through Holland, part of Germany, Prusia, and several cities of Russia, examining the state of the hospitals; and about the end of the year had reached Cherson, a new settlement of the Russian empress at the mouth of the Dnieper. This was destined to be the closing scene of his labors.

Visiting, according to one account, the Russian hospital of the place; according to another, a young lady, whose friends were anxious that he should prescribe for her, as he had done successfully in many similar cases, he caught a malignant fever, which, after an illness of twelve days, carried him off on the 20th of January, 1790, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. On his deathbed he showed the same calm and Christian spirit which had distinguished him through life. To Admiral Priestman, who resided at Cherson, and who visited him during his illness, and endeavored to amuse and cheer him by his remarks, thinking to divert his thoughts, he said, ‘Priestman, you style this a dull conversation, and endeavor to divert my mind from dwelling on death; but I entertain very different sentiments. Death has no terrors to me; it is an event I always look to with cheerfulness, if not with pleasure; and be assured the subject is more grateful than any other. I am well aware that I have but a short time to live; my mode of life has rendered it impossible that I should get rid of this fever. I have no method of lowering my nourishment, and therefore I must die. It is such jolly fellows as you, Priestman, that get over these fevers.’ Then alluding to the subject of his funeral, he continued—​‘There is a spot near the village of Dauphigny; this would suit me nicely. You know it well, for I have often said that I should like to be buried there; and I beg of you as you value your old friend, not to suffer any pomp to be used at my funeral; nor any monument, nor monumental inscription whatever, to mark where I am laid; but lay me quietly in the earth, place a sun-dial over my grave, and let me be forgotton.’ These directions were in spirit, although not strictly complied with; and on the 25th of January 1790, the body of Howard was buried in the spot which he had chosen near the village of Dauphigny, at a little distance from Cherson.

The authorities and the inhabitants of the place testified their respect for him by attending his remains to the grave. Instead of the sun-dial, a small brick pyramid was erected on the spot. In Cardington church, according to his direction, a plain slip of marble was erected by his wife’s tomb, bearing this inscription: ‘John Howard; died at Cherson, in Russian Tartary, January 20th, 1790. Aged 64. Christ is my hope.’ A more stately monument was soon afterwards erected to his memory in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Howard’s son, who never recovered from his malady, died in April 1799, in his thirty-fifth year.

George Gordon, the only son of Captain John Byron, by his second wife, Miss Gordon, of Gight, and grandson of the celebrated Admiral Byron, was born in Holles Street, London, on the 22d of January, 1788. His ancestry, of which he is said to have been more proud than of having been the author of Childe Harold and Manfred, was composed of persons of distinction, but possessing much of that daring recklessness of character which so early displayed itself in the subject of our memoir. His great uncle, Lord William, to whom he succeeded, was tried for killing his relation, Mr. Chaworth, in a duel; and his father, who had caused his first wife to die of a broken heart, after having seduced her, when Marchioness of Carmarthen, became the husband of our poet’s mother, as he openly avowed, for her fortune alone; after the dissipation of which, he separated from her, and died at Valenciennes, in 1791. At this time, young Byron resided, with his mother, at Aberdeen, where in November, 1792, he was sent to a day school; but, according to his own account, ‘learned little there, except to repeat by rote the first lesson of monosyllables.’ After remaining a year in this school, he was placed with a clergyman, named Ross, under whom, he says, he made astonishing progress; and observes, that the moment he could read, his grand passion was history. His next tutor was named Paterson; with him, he adds, ‘I began Latin in Ruddiman’s grammar, and continued till I went to the grammar-school, where I threaded all the classes to the fourth, when I was recalled to England by the demise of my uncle.

The anecdotes which are told of him at this time, display his temper in an unfavorable light, both in his infancy and boyhood. Mr. Moore relates, that whilst yet in petticoats, being angrily reprimanded by his nurse for having soiled or torn a new frock, in which he had just been dressed, he got into one of his ‘silent rages’ (as he himself has described them), seized the frock with both his hands, rent it from top to bottom, and stood, in sullen stillness, setting his censurer and her wrath at defiance. The same authority tells us, that once, in returning home from school at Aberdeen, Byron fell in with a boy who had, on some former occasion, insulted him, but had then got off unpunished; little Byron, however, at the time, promising to ‘pay him off’ whenever they should meet again. Accordingly, on this second encounter, though there were some other boys to take his opponent’s part, he succeeded in inflicting upon him a hearty beating. On his return home, breathless, the servant inquired what he had been about, and was answered by him, with a mixture of rage and humor, that he had been paying a debt, by beating a boy according to promise; for that he was a Byron and would not belie his motto. Other anecdotes are told of him, which show him to have been passionate and resentful to that degree, as to leave it doubtful whether the description of him as ‘a malignant imp’ is not more applicable to his early years, than that of ‘a lively, warm-hearted, and high-spirited boy.’ Before closing our account of his infancy, we should not omit to state that he suffered much from the malformation of one of his feet, which gave him much pain and mortification throughout his life. Even when a child, an allusion to this infirmity so provoked him, that he once struck at a person who remarked it, with a little whip which he held in his hand, exclaiming impatiently, as his eyes flashed fire, ‘Dinna speak of it!’ He himself says, in some memoranda of his early days, that he never felt greater horror and humiliation than when his mother, in one of her fits of passion, called him a ‘lame brat:’ and it is certain, that he always felt it as a sort of ignominy, notwithstanding Mr. Moore’s assertion that in after-life, ‘he could sometimes talk indifferently, and even jestingly, of this lameness.’ His attachment to Mary Duff commenced when he was only eight years of age; but, though, eight years afterwards, the account of her marriage with another, ‘nearly threw him into convulsions,’ and for a while embittered his existence, it was, he adds, ‘the recollection, not the attachment, which afterwards recurred to me so forcibly.’ This affection, however, was not without its influence upon his mind, and probably tended to increase that love of contemplation and solitude, which he is said to have sometimes carried to a dangerous excess among the mountainous scenery of the highlands.

In 1798, he prepared to quit Scotland for Newstead, in consequence of his accession to his family title, of which, perhaps, he was not a little proud; for his mother having said to him, some time in the previous year, whilst perusing a newspaper, that she hoped to have the pleasure of some time or other reading his speeches in the house of commons; he replied, ‘I hope not; if you read any speeches of mine, it will be in the house of lords.’ On his arrival at Newstead, he continued his studies under Mr. Rogers, a schoolmaster in the neighborhood, and was also attended by a quack of the name of Lavender, who had undertaken to cure the defect in his foot. Of this man he had a great abhorrence, and took every opportunity of ridiculing him; and, about the same time, the first symptom of his predilection for rhyming showed itself in four lines of doggerel, respecting an old woman who had given him some offense. In 1799, he was removed to London; and at the suggestion of his guardian, the Earl of Carlisle, placed under the care of Dr. Baillie, who also attended him on his subsequent removal to the school of Dr. Glennie, at Dulwich, where he appears to have gained the esteem both of his master and schoolfellows. His reading in history and poetry, says Dr. Glennie, was far beyond the usual standard of his age; and ‘he showed an intimate accquaintance with the historical parts of Holy Scriptures;’ an assertion which serves to confirm the subsequent declaration of Byron himself, ‘that he was a great reader and admirer of the Old Testament, and had read it through and through before he was eight years old.’ The progress he was rapidly making under Dr. Glennie was, unfortunately, interrupted by the foolish indulgence of his mother, who took him home so frequently, and behaved with so much violence when remonstrated with on the subject, that lord Carlisle determined upon removing his ward to Harrow, whither he was sent in his fourteenth year.

In 1800, he had, as he expresses himself, made ‘his first dash into poetry; the ebullition,’ he adds ‘of a passion for my first cousin, Margaret Parker, one of the most beautiful of evanescent beings.’ This was succeeded by his attachment for Miss Mary Chaworth, whom he used to meet during the Harrow vacations; she was two years older than himself, and does not appear to have given sufficient encouragement to his addresses, to warrant his declaration ‘that she jilted him:’ especially as she was, at the time of their first acquaintance, engaged to Mr. Musters, whom she subsequently married. There is no doubt, however, that his affection for the lady (who is now dead) was sincere, and that the loss of her had an embittering influence upon his future life. A person, who was present when Miss Chaworth’s marriage was first announced to him, has thus described the scene that occurred:—​‘Byron, I have some news for you,’ said his mother. ‘Well, what is it?’ ‘Take out our handkerchief first, you will want it.’ ‘Nonsense!’ ‘Take out your handkerchief, I say.’ He did so, to humor her. ‘Miss Chaworth is married.’ An expression very peculiar, impossible to describe, passed over his pale face, and he hurried his handkerchief into his pocket; saying with an affected air of coldness and nonchalance, ‘Is that all?’ ‘Why, I expected,’ said his mother, ‘you would have been plunged into grief.’ He made no reply, and soon began to talk about something else.

This took place in 1805, the year of his leaving Harrow, which he quitted with the character of a plain-spoken, clever and undaunted, but idle boy. His master, Dr. Drury, for whom he always entertained respect and affection, spoke of him as one who ‘might be led by a silken string to a point, rather than by a cable;’ and being asked his opinion of his pupil, after some continuance at Harrow, by lord Carlisle, he replied, that ‘he had talents which would add lustre to his rank.’ Though generally, however, reputed to be too indolent to excel in school, it seems that he collected a vast fund of information, which was little suspected by those who saw him only when idle, in mischief, or at play. ‘The truth is,’ he says, ‘that I read eating, read in bed, read when no one else read, and had read all sorts of reading since I was five years old, though I never met with a review till I was in my nineteenth year.’ He was not, at first, liked by his schoolfellows; but with some of them he ultimately formed friendships, to which he always reverted with a melancholy delight, broken, as most of them were, by his own waywardness, or the peculiar circumstances which attended his subsequent career.

His intrepidity was shown in several pugilistic combats, many of which he undertook in the defense and protection of other boys. One of his schoolfellows says, that he has seen him fight by the hour like a Trojan, and stand up, against the disadvantages of his lameness, with all the spirit of an ancient combatant. On the same person’s reminding him of his battle with Pitt, he replied, ‘You are mistaken, I think; it must have been with Rice-pudding Morgan, or Lord Jocelyn, or one of the Douglases, or George Raynsford, or Pryce (with whom I had two conflicts), or with Moses Moore (the clod), or with somebody else, and not with Pitt; for with all the above-named, and other worthies of the fist, had I an interchange of black eyes and bloody noses, at various and sundry periods. However, it may have happened, for all that.’ He also told Captain Medwin, in allusion to two of his actions at Harrow, that he fought Lord Calthorpe for writing ‘D—​d atheist’ under his name; and prevented the school-room from being burnt, during a rebellion, by pointing out to the boys the names of their fathers and grandfathers on the walls.

In 1805, he was entered of Trinity College, Cambridge, which he describes as ‘a new and heavy-hearted scene to him;’ adding, it was one of the deadliest and heaviest feelings of his life, to feel that he was no longer a boy. His chief ambition seems to have been to attain the reputation of a rake and a spendthrift; and his principal fear, lest he should become too fat, to prevent which, he took as much violent exercise as his naturally delicate constitution would allow. Among other of his eccentricities, for which he was more remarkable than his profligacy, though he seemed to take a pride in exaggerating the latter, it is said that he kept a bear, with the intention, as he observed, of training it up for a degree. The time not passed by him at the university, he at first spent with his mother, at Southwell, but her violent temper, which his own was not calculated to appease, soon led to their separation; and he afterwards resided in London, Little Hampton, Harrowgate, and other places of fashionable resort. At this period, he is said to have been remarkably bashful, though he subsequently so far overcame his shyness, as to take a prominent part in some private theatricals at Southwell. In November, 1807, his Hours of Idleness was printed at Newark; and, in the following year, appeared the memorable criticism upon them in The Edinburgh Review, which was decidedly unjust, though few, perhaps, will agree with the subject of our memoir, that these poems were as good as any he ever produced. The impression which the ciriticism above-mentioned made upon our poet, is described, by one who witnessed his fierce looks of defiance, during a first perusal of it, as fearful and sublime. Among the less sentimental effects of this review upon his mind, says Mr. Moore, he used to mention that, on the day he read it, he drank three bottles of claret to his own share after dinner; that nothing, however, relieved him till he had given vent to his indignation in rhyme; and that ‘after the first twenty lines, he felt himself considerably better.’ During the progress of the satire, he passed his time alternately at Newstead, London, and Brighton, where he took lessons in boxing, and appeared in public with a mistress who accompanied him, dressed in boy’s clothes, and whom he introduced as his young brother.

On coming of age, in 1809, he apprised Lord Carlisle of his wish to take his seat in the house of peers; and to the formal reply of the earl, and his refusal to afford any information respecting the marriage of our poet’s grandfather, is owing the bitterness with which he attacked the former in his English Bards. He at length took his seat on the 13th of March, and went down to the house for that purpose, accompanied only by Mr. Dallas, whom he had accidentally met. ‘He was received,’ says that gentleman, ‘in one of the ante-chambers, by some of the officers in attendance, with whom he settled respecting the fees he had to pay: one of them went to apprise the lord-chancellor of his being there, and soon returned for him. There were very few persons in the house. Lord Eldon was going through some ordinary business. When Lord Byron entered, I thought he looked still paler than before; and he certainly wore a countenance in which mortification was mingled with, but subdued by, indignation. He passed the woolsack without looking round, and advanced to the table, where the proper officer was attending to administer the oaths. When he had gone through them, the chancellor quitted his seat, and went towards him with a smile, putting out his hand warmly to welcome him; and, though I did not catch his words, I saw that he paid him some compliment. This was all thrown away upon Lord Byron, who made a stiff bow, and put the tips of his fingers into Lord Eldon’s hand. The chancellor did not press a welcome so received, but resumed his seat; while Lord Byron carelessly seated himself, for a few minutes, on one of the empty benches to the left of the throne, usually occupied by the lords in opposition. When, on his joining me, I expressed what I had felt, he said, “If I had shaken hands heartily, he would have set me down for one of his party; but I will have nothing to do with any of them, on either side: I have taken my seat, and now I will go abroad.” We returned to St. James’ Street, but he did not recover his spirits.’ Another account states that he offended the chancellor by replying to him, when he apologized for requiring the evidence of Admiral Byron’s marriage, as being a part of his duty: ‘Your lordship was exactly like Tom Thumb; you did your duty, and nothing more.’

Shortly after he had taken his seat, his satire was published anonymously, of which, though the success, at the time, highly gratified him, he, some years afterwards, wrote, ‘Nothing but the consideration of its being the property of another, prevents me from consigning this miserable record of misplaced and indiscriminate anger to the flames.’ Before a second edition was published, he left England, accompanied by Mr. Hobhouse, under the influence of those melancholy feelings, which he has described in the early part of the first canto of Childe Harold, in which poem a pretty accurate account of his travels is given, during his two years’ residence abroad. Almost every event he met with, he has made subservient to his muse, particularly the incident on which is founded his Giaour, and it was during this tour that he swam from Sestos to Abydos.

In July, 1811, he returned to England, and being visited by Mr. Dallas, put into his hands a Paraphrase of Horace’s Art of Poetry, expressing a wish that it should be printed under the latter’s superintendence; but he mentioned nothing of Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, until Mr. Dallas expressed his surprise that he should have written so little during his absence. He then told his friend that ‘he had occasionally written short poems, besides a great many stanzas in Spenser’s measure, relative to the countries he had visited;’ and, at the same time, handed them to Mr. Dallas, observing, that they were not worth troubling him with. This gentleman had no sooner perused the poem, than he endeavored to persuade the author of its superiority, in every respect, to the Paraphrase of Horace; but it was not until after much real or affected reluctance, that he consented to the publication of Childe Harold, in preference to that of the former. He had scarcely made up his mind on the subject, before he was called to Newstead, by the illness of his mother, who, however, died a short time before his arrival, on the 1st of August. He is said to have been sincerely affected at her loss; and, on being found sitting near the corpse of his mother, by Mrs. Byron’s waiting-woman, he, in answer to her remonstrance with him for so giving way to grief, exclaimed, bursting into tears, ‘I had but one friend in the world, and she is gone!’ His subsequent conduct, however, had an eccentricity about it, which brought the sincerity of his grief into question:—​‘On the morning of the funeral,’ says Mr. Moore, ‘having declined following the remains himself, he stood looking, from the abbey door, at the procession, till the whole had moved off; then turning to young Rushton, who was the only person left besides himself, he desired him to fetch the sparring gloves, and proceeded to his usual exercise with the boy. He was silent and abstracted all the time; and, as if from an effort to get the better of his feelings, threw more violence, Rushton thought, in his blows than was his habit; but, at last,—​the struggle seeming too much for him,—​he flung away the gloves, and retired to his room.’

A few months after the death of his mother, a correspondence took place between himself and Mr. Moore, the poet, of whose duel with Mr. Jeffrey, Byron had given a ludicrous, but untrue, account in his English Bards. After several letters of an explanatory, rather than hostile, nature, had passed on both sides, and in which each exhibited a manly and forbearing spirit, they became mutual friends, and remained so ever afterwards. On the 27th of February, 1812, Lord Byron made his first speech in the house of lords, on the subject of the Nottingham Frame-breaking Bill, and appears to have pleased both himself and his hearers. Mr. Dallas, who met him coming out of the house, says, that he was greatly elated; and, after repeating some of the compliments which had been paid him, concluded by saying, ‘that he had, by his speech, given the best advertisement for Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,’ which was two days afterwards published. The effect upon the public, as his biographer observes, was electric; as he has himself said, in his memoranda, ‘he awoke one morning, and found himself famous.’ The first edition of his work was disposed of instantly; ‘Childe Harold,’ and ‘Lord Byron,’ were the theme of every tongue; the most eminent literati of the day, including many whom he had attacked in his satire, left their names at his door; upon his table lay the epistolary tribute of the statesman and philosopher, the billet of some incognita, or the pressing note of some fair leader of fashion; and, in fine, ‘he found himself among the illustrious crowds of high life, the most distinguished object.’ The sum of £600 which he received for the copyright of the poem, he presented to Mr. Dallas; observing, ‘he would never receive money for his writings;’ a resolution which he subsequently abandoned. Among other results of the fame he had acquired by his Childe Harold, was his introduction to the prince regent, which took place at a ball, at the request of his royal highness, whose conversation so fascinated the poet, that had it not been, says Mr. Dallas, for an accidental deferring of the next levee, he bade fair to become a visitor at Carlton House, if not a complete courtier.

In the spring of 1813, he published, anonymously, his poem on waltzing; and as it was not received with the applause he anticipated, did not avow himself to be its author. In the same year, appeared The Giaour, and The Bride of Abydos; the former of which reached a fifth edition in four months. Mr. Murray offered him a thousand guineas for the copyright of the two poems, but he still refused to derive any pecuniary benefit from his writings. In 1814, his Corsair was published; the copyright of which he presented to Mr. Dallas. Fourteen thousand copies of the poem were sold in one day; but the popularity which this and his other works had procured for him, began to be lessened by his verses to the Princess Charlotte, and by a certain peculiarity of conduct which was looked upon as more indecorous than eccentric. Under these circumstances, he was persuaded to marry, and, in consequence, proposed to Miss Milbanke, the daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke; but was at first met with a polite refusal. He was however, not so much mortified as not to make her a second offer, though he says, in his memoranda, that a friend strongly advised him against doing so; observing that Miss Milbanke had, at present, no fortune, and that his embarrassed affairs would not allow him to marry without one; that she was, moreover, a learned lady, which would not at all suit him.’ He then agreed that his friend should write a proposal for him to another lady, and a refusal being the consequence, he said, ‘you see, after all, Miss Milbanke is to be the person: I will write to her:’ which he accordingly did, and was accepted. His marriage took place at Seaham, on the 2d of January, 1815; a day to which he seems to have always reverted with a shudder, and on which he, in reality, perhaps, experienced those emotions so touchingly described in his beautiful poem of The Dream. Superstition had, no doubt, some influence over his mind on the occasion; for, in addition to the circumstances hereafter related in his own words, he fancied, a short time previous to his marriage, that he had seen, at Newstead, the ghost of the monk which was supposed to haunt the abbey, and to appear when misfortune impended over the mansion,—​a legend which he was versified in the sixteenth canto of Don Juan. His own memoranda relative to his union form an interesting prelude to its unhappy consequences. ‘It had been predicted by Mrs. Williams,’ says he, ‘that twenty-seven was to be the dangerous age for me. The fortune-telling which was right: it was destined to prove so. I shall never forget the 2d of January. Lady Byron was the only unconcerned person present: Lady Noel, her mother, cried: I trembled like a leaf, made the wrong responses, and after the ceremony called her Miss Milbanke. There is a singular history attached to the ring:—​the very day the match was concluded, a ring of my mother’s that had been lost, was dug up by the gardener at Newstead. I thought it was sent on purpose for the wedding; but my mother’s marriage had not been a fortunate one, and this ring was doomed to be the seal of an unhappier union still. After the ordeal was over, we set off for a country seat of Sir Ralph’s; and I was surprised at the arrangements for the journey, and somewhat out of humor to find a lady’s maid stuck between me and my bride. It was rather too early to assume the husband, so I was forced to submit; but it was not with a very good grace. I have been accused of saying, on getting into the carriage, that I had married Lady Byron out of spite, and because she had refused me twice. Though I was, for a moment, vexed at the prophecy, or whatever you may choose to call it, if I had made so uncavalier, not to say brutal, a speech, I am convinced Lady Byron would instantly have left the carriage to me and the maid. She had spirit enough to have done so, and would properly have resented the insult. Our honeymoon was not all sunshine; it had its clouds; and Hobhouse has some letters which would serve to explain the rise and fall in the barometer; but it was never down at zero.’

About ten months after his marriage, the birth of his daughter took place; an event that was, in a few weeks, followed by a total separation of the parents. So many various reasons have been assigned for this step, by the friends of either party, and so much more than has yet come to light, has been insinuated by Lady Byron herself, that the real cause of their continued disunion still remains a mystery. Our poet has avowed, both in his conversation and correspondence, that, during his residence with his wife, he had nothing to complain of; and it was only when he found her unwilling to resume her connection with him that he gave vent to that bitterness of spirit with which he alludes to her in some of his poems. Mr. Moore speaks with all evident bias in favor of the subject of his biography; but whatever inferences may be drawn from the sacrifice of the papers relating to this affair, at the request of Lady Byron’s family,—​and the previous request of the lady herself to her husband, that he would not publish them, on his sending them to her for perusal, which she declined,—​it is clear, from the facts that have as yet been made public, that the conduct of Lord Byron was at least as culpable, as that of his wife appears, in the absence of further explanation, to have been extraordinary. Many excuses, however, are to be made for the subject of our memoir, who was most unwarrantably calumniated on the occasion, and publicly taxed with crimes, of which conjugal infidelity was not the least, though, perhaps, at the time of its imputation, the most unjustifiable. The ostensible cause of their separation was the involvement of his lordship’s affairs, and his connexion with the managing committee of Drury Lane, which led him into a course of life unsuitable to the domestic habits of Lady Byron. ‘My income, at this period,’ says his own account of the affair, ‘was small, and somewhat bespoken. We had a house in town, gave dinner parties, had separate carriages, and launched into every sort of extravagance. This could not last long. My wife’s £10,000 soon melted away. I was beset by duns, and at length, an execution was levied, and the bailiffs put in possession of the very beds we had to sleep on. This was no very agreeable state of affairs, no very pleasant scene for Lady Byron to witness; and it was agreed she should pay her father a visit till the storm had blown over, and some arangements had been made with my creditors.’

The lady, however, expressed her determination never to return to him, in a letter which had been preceded by one, beginning, as he ludicrously says, ‘dear duck!’ ‘You asked me,’ he says in a communication to Captain Medwin, ‘if no cause was assigned for this sudden resolution?—​if I formed no conjecture about the cause? I will tell you: I have prejudices about women; I do not like to see them eat. Rousseau makes Julie un peu gourmande; but that is not at all according to my taste. I do not like to be interrupted when I am writing. Lady Byron did not attend to these whims of mine. The only harsh thing I ever remember saying to her was, one evening, shortly before our parting. I was standing before the fire, ruminating upon the embarrassment of my affairs, and other annoyances, when Lady Byron came up to me, and said, “Byron, am I in your way?” to which I replied, “D—​—​bly!” I was sorry, and reproached myself for the expression; but it escaped me unconsciously,—​involuntarily: I hardly knew what I said.’

His lordship’s next poems were, Lara, The Siege of Corinth, and Parisina; the two last of which appeared in February, 1816; and, in the following April, he again left England, having previously published The Sketch, and his celebrated Fare-thee-well. He set out upon his travels in no very dejected state of mind, which may be accounted for by an observation in one of his letters, that ‘agitation or contest of any kind gave a rebound to his spirits, and set him up for the time.’ After reaching France, he crossed the field of Waterloo, and proceeded by the Rhine, to Switzerland, where he became acquainted with Shelley; and, whilst at Geneva, began the composition of a poem founded on his recent separation; but hearing that his wife was ill, he threw the manuscript into the fire. From Switzerland he proceeded to Italy, where he resided principally at Venice, and transmitted thence to London his third and fourth cantos of Childe Harold, the Prisoner of Chillon, and other poems, Manfred, and The Lament of Tasso. He also wrote, in that city, his Ode to Venice, and Beppo, which he is said to have finished at a sitting. His mode of living is accurately described in his own letters from Italy, which show him to have been equally candid and shameless in the confession of his amours. The first connexion he formed was with the wife of a linen-draper, in whose house he lodged; and highly censurable, says Mr. Moore, as was his course of life, while under the roof of this woman, ‘it was venial, in comparison with the strange, head-long career of license, to which he subsequently so unrestrainedly and defyingly abandoned himself.’ It will be unnecessary, after this admission from his most partial biographer, to say more than, that, after a gross and degrading course of libertinism, his desires were contracted into a passion for the Countess Guiccioli; with whom he first became acquainted in the April of 1819, and, in a few months, he became her acknowledged paramour. In the same year he was visited, at Venice, by Mr. Moore, to whom he made a present of the memoirs, which have been before alluded to. He brought them in, says Mr. Moore, one day, in a white leather bag, and holding it up, said, ‘look here; this would be worth something to Murray, though you, I dare say, would not give sixpence for it.’—​‘What is it?’—​‘My life and adventures:—​it is not a thing that can be published during my life-time, but you may have it, if you like,—​there, do whatever you please with it.’ In giving the bag, continues Mr. Moore, he added, ‘you may show it to any of our friends you think worthy of it.’

The Countess Guiccioli having gone back to Ravenna, at her husband’s desire, lord Byron was about to return to England, when a letter from his inamorata changed his mind, and he resumed his connexion with her, on her separation from her husband, which took place, on an understanding that she should in future reside with her father, Count Gamba. She acoordingly, in July 1820, removed from Ravenna to the count’s villa, a distance of about fifteen miles from the city, where our poet now took up his abode, visiting Madam Guiccioli once or twice in a month. After he had been about a twelvemonth at Ravenna, the state of the country began to render it unsafe for him to remain there any longer; and the Gambas (the father and brother of the Countess Guiccioli) having been exiled, he was induced to remove with them to Pisa, in the autumn of 1821. It appears, that he was himself suspected of having secretly joined the Carbonari; but, though such was the fact, and he had received warnings to discontinue his forest rides, he, as he observes, ‘was not to be bullied,’ and did not quit Ravenna till he had shown the authorites he was not afraid of remaining. His poetical productions, within the three last years, were, Mazeppa, his tragedies of Marino Faliero, the Two Foscari, and Sardanapalus, The Prophecy of Dante, Cain, and several cantos of Don Juan, the sixteenth canto of which he completed at Pisa. At this place he also wrote Werner, The Deformed Transformed, Heaven and Earth, and the celebrated Vision of Judgment; the two last of which appeared in The Liberal, the joint production of himself, Mr. Shelley, and Mr. Leigh Hunt, who had joined his lordship at Pisa. Of this periodical it is unnecessary to say more, in this, place, than that it failed after the fourth number, and gave rise to a prosecution against the publisher, on account of The Vision of Judgment.

An affray with some soldiers of Pisa, who, for some reason or other, had attempted to arrest our poet, and some other Englishmen, induced him to remove, with the Gambas, to Leghorn, and, subsequently, to Geneva, where he took up his residence, in September, 1822. The fervor of his attachment had now, probably, declined towards the Countess Guiccioli; and, anxious for more stirring scenes than those in which he had hitherto mixed, he engaged in a correspondence with the leaders of the insurrection in Greece, which ended in his departure for that country, in the summer of 1823. He has been censured by some for quitting Italy without having made a provision for his mistress, but it seems that she had refused to accept of any: upon what terms they parted is doubtful; for according to Mr. Galt, a friend of his was told, by the lady herself, ‘that she had not come to hate lord Byron, but she feared more than loved him.’ Her brother, however, Count Gamba, accompanied his lordship to Cephalonia, where he equipped forty Suliotes to assist in the defense of Missolonghi, and undertook to provide a loan of £12,000 for the equipment of a fleet against the Turks.

In the beginning of January 1824, he entered Missolonghi, where the inhabitants, who hailed his coming as that of a Messiah, received him with enthusiastic demonstrations of respect and applause. He began by attempting to induce the Greeks to a more civilized system of warfare than had been lately carried on; and, with this view, he not only personally rescued a Turk from some Greek sailors, on the very day of his landing, but released several prisoners in the town, and sent them back to Prevesa, in the hope that it would beget a similar mode of treatment towards the captives in the hands of the Turks. He then formed a brigade of Suliotes, five hundred of whom he took into his pay; and ‘burning,’ says Colonel Stanhope, ‘with military ardor and chivalry, prepared to lead them to Lepanto.’ The insubordination, however, among the troops, and the differences that hourly arose amid the half-famished and ill-accoutred garrison, rendered this step impracticable, and threw him into a state of feverish irritation, that destroyed his self-possession at a time when it was most necessary to the cause he was struggling to serve. An attack of epilepsy was the consequence of this state of mind, and on his recovery, he was strongly urged to remove, for a while, from the marshy and deleterious air of Missolonghi. This he indignantly refused to do; ‘I will remain here,’ he said, to Captain Parry, ‘until Greece is secure against the Turks, or till she has fallen under their power. All my income shall be spent in her service; but, unless driven by some great necessity, I will not touch a farthing of the sum intended for my sister’s children. When Greece is secure against external enemies, I will leave the Greeks to settle their government as they like. One service more, and an eminent service it will be, I think I may perform for them. You Parry, shall have a schooner built for me, or I will buy a vessel; the Greeks shall invest me with the character of their ambassador, or agent: I will go to the United States, and procure that free and enlightened government to set the example of recognizing the federation of Greece as an independent state. This done, England must follow the example, and Greece will then enter into all her rights as a member of the great commonwealth of Christian Europe.’

This was the last ebullition of a mind which was now tottering to its final decadence; though it occasionally broke out in those meteor-like flashes, which had belonged to its early vigor. On the 12th of April, a fever, of whose premonitory symptoms he had not been sufficiently heedful, confined him to his bed, and his physician, Dr. Bruno, proposed bleeding him, as the only means of saving his life. This, however, he repeatedly refused; declaring, that he had only a common cold, and that he would not permit the doctor to bleed him for the mere purpose of getting the reputation of curing his disease. At length, on the 14th, after some controversy among the physicians, who now all saw the necessity of bleeding, he consented to the operation; and also on the 16th, saying as he stretched out his arm, ‘I fear they know nothing about my disorder; but, here, take my arm, and do whatever you like.’ On the 17th, his countenance changed, and he became slightly delirious; he complained that the want of sleep would drive him mad; ‘and,’ he exclaimed to his valet, Fletcher, ‘I would ten times sooner shoot myself than be mad; for I am not afraid of dying—​I am more fit to die than people imagine.’ It was not, however, till the 18th, that he began to think himself in danger, when he called Fletcher to his bed-side, and bid him receive his last instructions. ‘Shall I fetch pen, ink, and paper?’ said the valet, as he approached; ‘Oh, my God! no;’ was his reply; ‘you will lose too much time, and I have it not to spare.’ He then exclaimed, ‘Oh! my poor dear child!—​my dear Ada—​could I have but seen her—​give her my blessing.’ And, after muttering something unintelligibly, he suddenly raised his voice, and said, ‘Fletcher, now, if you do not execute every order which I have given you, I will torment you hereafter, if possible.’ The valet replying that he had not understood one word of what his lordship had been saying, ‘Oh, my God?’ he exclaimed, ‘then all is lost, for it is now too late, and all is over: yet, as you say, God’s will, not mine, be done—​but, I will try to—​my wife! my child! my sister!—​you know all—​you must say all—​you know my wishes.’ Here his words became unintelligible. Stimulants were now, in direct opposition to the opinion of Dr. Bruno, administered to him, after taking which, he said, ‘I must sleep now,’ and never spoke again. For twenty-four hours he lay in a state of lethargy, with the rattles occasionally in his throat; and at six o’clock in the evening of the 19th, an exclamation of Fletcher, who saw him open and then shut his eyes, without moving hand or foot, announced that his master was no more.

The death of lord Byron created a mournful sensation in all parts of the civilized world; his failings were forgotten in his recent struggles for the delivery of Greece, and one universal sound of admiration and regret was echoed throughout Europe. The authorities of Missolonghi paid every token of respect to his memory that reverence could suggest, and before his remains were deposited in their final resting place, some of the most celebrated men of the present century had, in glowing terms, expressed their sense of his merits. His body after having been brought to England, and refused interment in Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s, was conveyed to Hucknell church, near Newstead, in conformity to a wish of the poet, that his dust might be mingled with his mother’s. As the procession passed through the streets of London, a sailor was observed walking, uncovered, near the hearse, and on being asked what he was doing there, replied, that he had served lord Byron in the Levant, and had come to pay his last respects to his remains; ‘a simple but emphatic testimony,’ observes Mr. Galt, ‘to the sincerity of that regard which his lordship often inspired, and which, with more steadiness, he might always have commanded.’

The character of lord Byron has, of late years, been so frequently and elaborately discussed, that a lengthened dissertation upon it, in this place would be equally tedious and superfluous. Its best development is furnished by his memoirs, and having read these, we may, without fear of controversy, come to the conclusion, that in regard to his relation to society he was neither a great nor a good man. Had he been desirous of becoming so, it was not impossible for him to have succeeded; the path of rectitude was not a greater mystery to him than to other men; and the metaphysical subtlety that has been employed to prove him the possessor of high and virtuous principles, only shows how far he has diverged from the track to which his panegyrists would wish to restore him. It has been said, that he was not driven to profligacy by inclination, but was goaded into it by the world’s attributing to him vices of which he was not guilty, but which he in consequence, out of scorn and defiance, chose to commit. ‘I took,’ he himself says, ‘my gradation in the vices with great promptitude, but they were not to my taste; I could not be a libertine without disgust; and yet this very disgust, and my heart thrown back upon itself, threw me into excesses, perhaps, more fatal than those from which I shrank.’ This is a metaphysical apology, calculated, perhaps, to mystify the judgment, and cajole the sympathies, of a portion of mankind, towards him by whom it is put forth; but, surely, it is nothing more than the reckless avowal of a perverted and a depraved mind, too indolent, too weak, or too proud, to adopt any other mode of blunting the sting of one vice, than by plunging into another still more odious. We confess we are not among those who see in the circumstances of his lordship’s life sufficient reason for that waywardness of mind and conduct, of which his poetical and moral character form so singular a combination; and from which, after all, he only averts our contempt, by investing it with an aspect that disdains our pity. Lord Byron is not the only sensitive young man who has entered upon life with blighted hopes, but it is doubtful whether the remembrance of them would be accepted as an apology for a similar career to that of his lordship, even though the sufferer possessed not the faculty of venting his anguish in verse, the opportunity of drowning it in dissipation, or the means and leisure of softening it by travel and amusement.

The subject of our memoir, however, was not without redeeming qualities: he was brave, generous and benevolent; but he was also passionate, disingenuous, and resentful; and more ready to inflict a wound, than to submit to one himself. He was sensitive to a painful degree, both in his sentiments, and his feelings; but, though he writhed under an attack upon either, his pride hindered him from showing what he suffered, even when such emotions proceeded from impulses the most honorable to human nature. He certainly took pleasure in showing the dark side of his character to the world; for those who were admitted to an unreserved intimacy with him, give indubitable testimony of his possessing, in a very eminent degree, all the social and companionable qualities, a heart exquisitely alive to the kindness of others towards himself, and a hand unhesitatingly prompt in complying with the supplications of distress. There is, indeed, no reason to doubt his own allegation (for falsehood was not one of his characteristics) when he says, ‘If salvation is to be bought by charity, I have given more to my fellow-creatures in this life, than I now possess. I never in my life, gave a mistress so much as I have some times given a poor honest man in distress.’ Captain Medwin describes him as the best of masters, and as being perfectly adored by his servants, to whose families and children he also extended an affectionate kindness. His habits, in the latter part of his life, were regular and temperate, even to ascetic abstinence; he seldom ate meat or drank wine, living chiefly upon biscuits, coffee, eggs, fish, vegetables, and soda water, of which he has been known to drink fifteen bottles in a night. Riding, swimming, and pistol-shooting, were his favorite amusements; and one of three things which he used to pride himself upon, was his ability to snuff out a candle with a bullet, at twenty yards distance;—​the other two were, his feat of swimming across the Hellespont, and being the author of a poem (The Corsair), of which fourteen thousand copies were sold in one day. He had a great partiality for children; and, besides the affection he always manifested for his child Ada, he is said to have felt severely the loss of a natural daughter, born in 1817, and who died at five years of age. Prejudice, affectation, and vanity, displayed themselves in many parts of his conduct; he would talk of avoiding Shakspeare, lest he should be thought to owe him any thing; and delighted in the addition of Noel to his name, because, as he said, Bonaparte and he were the only public persons whose initials were the same; peculiarities which induced Mr. Hazlitt to call him ‘a sublime coxcomb.’ His pride of birth we have before alluded to: it would probably have been somewhat diminished, had he been aware of the singular fact of a baton sinister being in the escutcheon of his family. Though he professed to despise the opinion of the world, no man was a greater slave to it, in some respects, than himself. Speaking of duelling, he would say, ‘we must act according to usages; any man will, and must fight, when necessary—​even without a motive.’ He was himself concerned in many duels, as second, but only in two as principal; one was with Mr. Hobhouse, before he became intimate with him. Of his person he was particularly vain, and it was certainly of superior order; he was about five feet eight and a half inches in height, with a high forehead, adorned with fine, curling chesnut hair; teeth, says an Italian authoress, which resemble pearls; hands as beautiful as if they had been the works of art; eyes of the azure color of the heavens; cheeks delicately tinged with the hue of the pale rose; and withal, a countenance, in which the expression of an extraordinary mind was fascinatingly conspicuous.

The religious sentiments of Lord Byron appear to have been much misrepresented: ‘I am no bigot to infidelity,’ he says, in one of his letters, ‘and did not expect that, because I doubted the immortality of man, I should be charged with denying the existence of a God.’ Mr. Moore having suspected that Mr. Shelley swayed his lordship’s opinions, the latter writes, ‘pray, assure Mr. Moore that I have not the smallest influence over lord Byron in this particular; if I had, I certainly should employ it to eradicate from his great mind the delusions of Christianity, which, in spite of his reason, seem perpetually to recur, and to lay in ambush for the hours of sickness and distress.’ It is doubtful, however, though he educated his natural daughter in the Catholic faith, and he himself observed some of its ceremonies, whether he was a believer in the tenets of Christianity. He perceived and needed the consolation to be derived from a sincere adoption of its creed, but his intellectual pride would not suffer him to prostrate his reason at the humiliating shrine of faith.

The following anecdotes are interesting, and, upon the whole, favorable illustrations of the paradoxical character of lord Byron:—​A young lady of talent being reduced to great hardships on account of her family, came to the resolution of calling on lord Byron, at his apartments in the Albany, for the purpose of soliciting his subscription to a volume of poems. Having no knowledge of him, except from his works, she entered his room with diffidence, but soon found courage to state her request, which she did with simplicity and delicacy. He listened with attention, and, when she had done speaking, began to converse with her in so gentle and fascinating a manner, that she hardly perceived he had been writing, until he put a slip of paper into her hand, saying it was his subscription; ‘but,’ added he, ‘we are both young, and the world is very censorious; and so, if I were to take any active part in procuring subscribers to your poems, I fear it would do you harm rather than good.’ The young lady, on looking at the paper, found it a check for £50. During his residence at Venice, the house of a shoemaker, who had a large family, being destroyed by fire, lord Byron ordered a new habitation to be built at his own expense, and presented the tradesman with a sum equal in value to the whole of his loss. Whilst at Metaxata, in the island of Cephalonia, hearing of several persons having been buried under an embankment which had fallen in, he immediately hastened to the spot, accompanied by his physician. After some of their companions had been extricated, the laborers becoming alarmed for themselves, refused to dig further, when he himself seized a spade, and, by his exertions, assisted by the peasantry, succeeded in saving two more persons from certain death. One of his household having subjected him to much perplexity by his amorous propensities, he hit upon the following means for curing them:—​A young Suliote of the guard being dressed up like a woman, was instructed to attract the notice of the gay Lothario, who, taking the bait, was conducted by the supposed female to one of lord Byron’s apartments, where he was almost terrified out of his senses by the sudden appearance of an enraged husband, provided for the occasion. The following anecdote shows how jealous he was of title:—​an Italian apothecary having sent him, one day, a packet of medicines addressed to Monsieur Byron, he indignantly sent the physic back to learn better manners. His coat of arms was, according to Leigh Hunt, suspended over the foot of his bed; and even when a schoolboy at Dulwich, so little disguised were his high notions of rank, that his companions used to call him the Old English Baron. When residing at Mitylene, he portioned eight young girls very liberally, and even danced with them at their marriage feast; he gave a cow to one man, horses to another, and silk to several girls who lived by weaving. He also bought a new boat for a fisherman who had lost his own in a gale; and he often gave Greek Testaments to the poor children. At Ravenna, he was so much beloved by the poor people, that his influence over them was dreaded by the government; and, indeed, wherever he resided, his generosity and benevolence appear to have been eminently conspicuous.

Of the merits so universally acknowledged of lord Byron, as a poet, little need be said; in originality of conception, depth and vigor of thought, boldness of imagination, and power of expression, he is unrivaled. His most sublime performances are Manfred, Childe Harold, Heaven and Earth, and Cain; the first of these pieces has been highly commended by Goëthe, who pronounces some parts of it superior to some of the productions of Shakspeare. His great and favorable art lies in his portraiture of the human character, thrown back upon itself by satiety, conscious of its own wreck, yet disdaining penitence for the vices it acknowledges, unable to find relief in itself, and scorning to derive consolation from others. In this respect, he surpasses Milton, who has only depicted the horrors of remorse; a far less difficult task. Satan has an end in view, to which he is driven by despair and hate: Manfred has none, yet, in the stern apathy of his soul, he appears to us more terribly sublime even than Lucifer himself. Don Juan is lord Byron’s most remarkable production; and contains some of his finest and most common-place passages, and shows a command of language and versatility of style that have never been equaled. The tendency, however, of this and some other of his poems, cannot be too explicitly condemned. In Don Juan, sensuality has one of its most powerful and accomplished advocates; the sting by which it is followed he calls the misfortune of nature, instead of the consequence of vice; and, thus, instead of exalting our notions of virtue, makes us regard the exercise of it as a melancholy and irksome duty.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, eldest son of Sir Timothy Shelley, Baronet, of Castle Goring, Sussex, was born in that county, on the 4th of August, 1792. At the age of thirteen he was sent to Eton, where he was distinguished from his schoolfellows by a melancholy and reserved disposition, and an abstinence from every amusement natural to youth. He soon began to develop a rigid, unconventional tenacity of character, in relation to what he deemed the reason and justice of things, and he was in consequence, at an earlier period than usual, removed to the University of Oxford. Here his penetrating and inquisitive mind displayed more fully that pertinacious but conscientious eccentricity, which forbade his assent to the most common truths without investigation; and, in consequence of publishing a pamphlet, in which he attacked the ordinarily received notions of the being of God, he was expelled from the university, on his refusal to retract his opinions. This step drew upon him the displeasure of his family, whose total discountenance of him soon after followed, on his marriage, at the age of about seventeen or eighteen, with a lady equally young. The union ended in misery to both; after the birth of two children they separated by mutual consent, and Mrs. Shelley subsequently destroying herself, the subject of our memoir was looked upon as her murderer, and spoken of with proportionate obloquy.

A perusal of Mr. Godwin’s Political Justice, had first induced Shelley to adopt the systematic rule of conduct, by which he subsequently squared all his actions, at the sacrifice of every worldly interest. His conduct was, in consequence, equally noble and extraordinary; and though, it is said, ‘he had only to become a yea and nay man in the house of commons, to be one of the richest men in Sussex,’ he declined it to live upon a comparative pittance. After a visit to Italy, where he formed a friendship with lord Byron, and composed his Rosalind and Helen, and Ode to the Euganean Hill, he returned to England, and married the daughter of Mr. Godwin, with whom he resided for some time at Great Marlow, in Buckinghamshire. Here he was remarkable for his unostentatious charity; and he not only administered pecuniary relief to the poor, but visited them when sick in their beds, having previously gone the round of the hospitals, on purpose to be able to practice on occasion. At Marlow, he composed the Revolt of Islam, his introduction to which, addressed to his wife, is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful and touching pieces of poetry ever composed. About this time he was deprived of the guardianship of his two children, in consequence of his alleged sceptical notions, and of certain peculiar opinions respecting the intercourse of the sexes. After his separation from them, which deeply affected him, and increased his disgust towards the institutions of his country, he returned, with his family by his second wife, to Italy, where he joined lord Byron and Leigh Hunt in a periodical called The Liberal. In June, 1822, he visited the former, at Pisa, and, on the 7th of July, set off, in a boat, on his return to his own family, at Lerici, in the bay of Spezzia; when a tremendous storm came on, and, in a week afterwards, the body of Shelley, with those of Mr. Williams and a seaman, his only companions, were washed on shore near Villa Reggio. Their remains, after having been interred by the Italian authorities, were, at the request of their respective friends, dug up, and reduced to ashes, when those of Shelley were deposited in the Protestant burial ground at Rome, near the grave of Keats.

In person, Mr. Shelley was tall and slight, of a consumptive constitution, and subject to spasmodic pains, the violence of which would sometimes force him to lie on the ground till they were over. The marks of premature thought and trouble were more visible in his frame than his countenance, which, says the writer from whom we have before quoted, ‘had a certain seraphical character, that would have suited a portrait of John the Baptist, or the angel whom Milton describes as “holding a reed tipped with fire.”’ He had a small, but well-shaped face, with a fair and delicate complexion, cheeks not devoid of color, and large animated eyes, that had almost an appearance of wildness. His voice was weak and shrill, and had a peculiar effect on those who heard it for the first time. He passed a solitary and temperate life; rising early in the morning, and retiring to bed at ten o’clock, having, in the meantime written, studied, and read to his wife, and taken sparingly of his meals, which consisted, at dinner, of vegetables, as he partook neither of meat nor wine. His purse, though he possessed but a very limited income, was at the service of all who needed it; it was not uncommon with him, says our previous authority, to give away all his ready money, and be compelled to take a journey on foot, or on the top of a stage, no matter during what weather. He allowed to a literary acquaintance a pension of £100 per annum; but says Mr. Leigh Hunt, ‘the princeliness of his disposition was seen most in his behavior to myself, who am proud to relate, that Mr. Shelley once made me a present of £1,400 to extricate me from debt, and his last sixpence was ever at my service, had I chosen to share it.’ The following anecdote is told of lord Byron, and some of his cotemporaries; Shelley, at the time, being on a visit to his house at Hampstead:—​‘As I approached my door,’ said Mr. Hunt, ‘I heard strange and alarming shrieks, mixed with the voice of a man. The next day it was reported, by the gossips, that Mr. Shelley, no Christian (for it was he who was there), had brought some very strange female into the house, no better of course than she ought to be. The real Christian had puzzled them: Mr. Shelley, in coming to our house that night, had found a woman, lying near the top of the hill, in fits. It was a fierce winter night, with snow upon the ground, and winter loses nothing of its fierceness at Hampstead. My friend, always the promptest, as well as most pitying, on these occasions, knocked at the first houses he could reach, in order to have her taken in, but the invariable answer was that they could not do it. At last, my friend sees a carriage driving up to a house at a little distance. The knock is given; the warm door opens; servants and lights pour forth. Now, thought he, is the time. He puts on his best address, which anybody might recognize for that of the highest gentleman, as well as an interesting individual, and plants himself in the way of an elderly person, who is stepping out of the carriage with his family. He tells his story; and asks him if he will go and see the poor woman. ‘No, sir; there’s no necessity for that sort of thing, depend on it; imposters swarm everywhere, the thing cannot be done. Sir, your conduct is extraordinary.’ ‘Sir,’ cried Mr. Shelley, at last, forcing the flourishing householder to stop, out of astonishment, ‘I am sorry to say that your conduct is not extraordinary; and, if my own seems to amaze you, I will tell you something that may amaze you a little more, and, I hope, will frighten. It is such men as madden the spirits and patience of the poor and wretched; and, if ever a convulsion comes in this country, which is very probable, recollect what I tell you; you will have your house, that you refuse to put this miserable woman into, burnt over your head.’ ‘God bless me, sir! dear me, sir!’ exclaimed the frightened wretch, and fluttered into his mansion. The woman was then brought to our house, which was at some distance, and down a bleak path; the next day my friend sent her comfortably home and, adds Mr. Hunt, this was one of the most ordinary of Shelley’s actions.

As a poet, we think Shelley has never been surpassed; and we could point out many of his passages which are without their equal, even if we look for their parallel in the works of Shakspeare, Byron, and Milton. But the wild speculative sublimity of his thoughts, the refined intellectuality of his ideas, and the mysterious intertexture of sentiment with feeling, which are the characteristics of his poetry, will always hinder him from becoming popular. Yet, with all this, there is a simplicity about his writings, as remarkable, it has been observed, as its views and speculations are remote and peculiar. A very just notion of his style has been taken by the biographer to whom we have before alluded, who observes, that in all Shelley’s works there is a wonderfully sustained sensibility, and a language lofty and fit for it. ‘He has the art,’ continues the same authority, ‘of using the stateliest words and the most learned idioms without incurring the charge of pedantry, so that passages of more splendid and sonorous writing are not to be selected from any writer since the days of Milton; and yet, when he descends from his ideal world, and comes home to us in our humble bowers, and is yearning after love and affection, he attunes the most natural feelings to a style so proportionate, and withal to a modulation so truly musical, that there is nothing to surpass it in the lyrics of Beaumont and Fletcher.’ In addition to the works before mentioned, Shelley is the author of Queen Mab, Alastor, Prometheus Unbound, the tragedy of The Cenci, and a volume of posthumous poems.

Oliver Goldsmith, the son of a clergyman, was, according to some writers, born in 1729, at Elphin, in Roscommon, Ireland; but, according to the inscription on his monument, at Fernes, in the province of Leinster, on the 29th of November, 1731. After having acquired the rudiments of education at a private school, he was, in June, 1744, admitted a sizer of Trinity College, Dublin, where he graduated B. A., in 1749, but did not display remarkable abilities in the course of his academical studies. Being destined for the medical profession, he attended some courses of anatomy in Dublin; and, in 1751, entered the University of Edinburgh, where he studied medicine under the different professors. His thoughtless, though generous, disposition, soon involved him in difficulties; and in order to avoid arrest for the debt of a friend, for which he had made himself responsible, he was obliged to quit Scotland abruptly. He arrived at Sunderland in the early part of 1754, when his person was secured, but, being released, through the friendship of Dr. Sleigh, he sailed to Rotterdam; and, after visiting great part of Flanders, proceeded to Louvain, where he remained some time, at the expense of his uncle, and took his degree of bachelor in physic. Hence, it is said, with only one clean shirt, and no money in his pocket, he set out on foot for Geneva, which he reached by a circuitous route, in the course of which he supported himself by his abilities, musical and classical. ‘My learning,’ he says, ‘procured me a favorable reception at most of the religious houses I visited, and whenever I approached a peasant’s house, I played one of my most merry tunes, and that generally procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day; this, however, was not the case with the rich, who generally despised both me and my music.’

On his arrival at Geneva, he was appointed tutor and traveling companion to a young gentleman of fortune, with whom he continued until they entered the south of France, where, in consequence of a disagreement, they parted. Goldsmith, however, did not turn his steps homeward, till he had still further gratified his passion for travel, although he was obliged to resort to his flute, as before, for lodging and subsistence. The death of his uncle, during our author’s stay abroad, had reduced him to these exigencies, and on his arrival in London, in the winter of 1758, a few halfpence constituted the whole of his finances. In this extremity, he applied for employment to the apothecaries, but his awkward appearance, and broad Irish accent, were much against him; and it was only from motives of humanity, that a chemist, at length, consented to take him into his service. Hearing, however, that his old friend, Dr. Sleigh, was in London, he paid him a visit, and accepted an asylum in his house, but soon afterwards left it, for an ushership at the Rev. Dr. Milner’s academy at Peckham. In this situation he did not remain long; for, having obtained some reputation from criticisms he had written in The Monthly Review, he entered into an engagement with the proprietor, and, coming to London, took lodgings near the Old Bailey, and commenced authorship as a profession. Besides writing for The Review, he produced a weekly pamphlet, called The Bee; An inquiry into the Present State of Learning in Europe; and contributed several Essays to The Public Ledger, in which his Citizen of the World appeared, under the title of Chinese Letters. These publications had brought him both fame and emolument, and, in 1765, at which time he resided in the Temple, he added to them by the production of his celebrated poem The Traveler. This had been written during his residence abroad, and was revised and printed at the recommendation of Dr. Johnson, his acquaintance with whom was soon followed by that of other eminent literary characters of the day. In 1766, appeared his Vicar of Wakefield, and his History of England, in a series of letters, two of his most successful performances, and which were received with immediate applause. In 1768, his comedy of The Good-natured Man, was brought out at Covent Garden, with a prologue by Dr. Johnson; but the success of it was not proportionate to its merits. In 1770, appeared his exquisite poem of The Deserted Village, for which he received £100, but could hardly be prevailed upon to accept it, until satisfied that the profits of the bookseller could afford that sum. It is, indeed, said by one of his biographers, that he went back and returned the money, observing, ‘he had not been easy since he received it;’ and left it to the bookseller to pay him according to the profits of the sale.

In 1772, was acted his celebrated comedy of She Stoops to Conquer, concerning the acceptance and success of which he appears to have been equally anxious and doubtful. His letter to Colman, about this time, does not represent his circumstances in a very favorable light: ‘I have, as you know,’ he says, ‘a large sum of money to make up shortly; by accepting my play, I can readily satisfy my creditors that way; at any rate, I must look about to some certainty to be prepared. For God’s sake, take the play, and let us make the best of it; and let me have the same measure, at least, which you have given as bad plays as mine.’ During the first performance of the comedy, he is said to have walked all the time in St. James’ Park, in great uneasiness, until, thinking it must be over, he hastened to the theatre. His ears were assailed with hisses as he entered the green-room; when he eagerly inquired of Mr. Colman the cause.—​‘Psha! psha!’ said Colman, ‘don’t be afraid of squibs, when we have been sitting on a barrel of gunpowder these two hours.’ The fact was, that the comedy had been completely successful, and that it was the farce which had excited these sounds so terrific to Goldsmith.

In the following year, his last theatrical piece, entitled The Grumbler, a farce, altered from Sedley, was acted, for the benefit of Mr. Quick; but it was not repeated, and was never printed. His other productions are, a Roman History, a History of England, in four volumes, a Grecian History, and a History of the Earth and Animated Nature, compiled from Buffon and others. He had acquired more than a sufficiency, by his writings, for his comforts and necessaries; but his indiscriminate and improvident liberality, added to a passion for gaming, rendered his emoluments comparatively useless; and at length threw him into a state of despondency, which terminated in a nervous fever, and deprived him of life on the 4th of April, 1774. He was buried in the Temple Church, and a monument was afterwards erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey, at the expense of a literary club to which he belonged, with an inscription by Dr. Johnson. He is described as a ‘poet, natural philosopher, and historian; who left no species of writing untouched, or unadorned by his pen, whether to move laughter, or draw tears. He was a powerful master over the affections, though, at the same time, a gentle tyrant; of a genius at once sublime, lively, and equal to every subject: in expression at once noble, pure, and delicate.’

The character of Goldsmith was in the highest degree good-natured and benevolent; he was every one’s friend, and any one’s dupe; retaining, as he did, amid all his worldly experience, his natural simplicity and philanthropy of heart. But he was not truly estimable; for he was, with all his good qualities, improvident, dissipated, and meanly jealous of a literary rival. He was also, at times, impetuous and passionate; but corrected himself upon a moment’s reflection; and it is said his servants would throw themselves in his way upon these occasions, as they were certain of being rewarded after the anger of their master had subsided. Mrs. Piozzi describes him as a poor fretful creature, eaten up with affectation and envy, and the only person she ever knew who acknowledged himself to be envious. It is known that he used his pen better than his tongue; and the same lady calls his conversation a strange mixture of absurdity and silliness. Some one who saw him for the first time in company, declared he was ‘the most solemn coxcomb he had ever met with;’ and the phrase of ‘inspired idiot’ is well known as applied to him. As an author he is to be considered in the character of a poet, historical compiler, novelist, essayist, and dramatist; in all of which he has been so far successful, as to leave some work in these respective departments of literature, alone sufficient to perpetuate his reputation. It is as a poet, however, that he will be chiefly esteemed; The Traveler, The Deserted Village, and The Hermit, are unrivaled in their class; and, though Dr. Aikin has placed them at the head of the minor compositions, will always retain their original popularity. His literary qualifications cannot be better described than in the words of Dr. Johnson, who calls him ‘a man of such variety of powers, and such felicity of performance, that he always seemed to do best that which he was doing: a man, who had the art of being minute, without tediousness; and general, without confusion; whose language was copious, without exuberance; exact, without constraint; and easy, without weakness.’ Johnson was always ready to testify to the merits of Goldsmith; and being, one day, of a party at Sir Joshua Reynolds’, where several affirmed that the author of The Traveler had neither talent nor originality, he rose with great dignity, looked them full in the face, and exclaimed, ‘If nobody was suffered to abuse poor Goldy but those who could write as well, he would have few censors.’

Many anecdotes are told of his credulous simplicity, and indiscriminate benevolence. Sitting, one evening, at the tavern where he was accustomed to take his supper, he called for a mutton chop, which was no sooner placed on the table, than a gentleman near him, with whom he was intimately acquainted, showed great tokens of uneasiness, and wondered how the doctor could suffer the waiter to place such a stinking chop before him. ‘Stinking!’ said Goldsmith, ‘in good truth I do not smell it.’ ‘I never smelled anything more unpleasant in my life,’ answered the gentleman; ‘the fellow deserves a caning for bringing you meat unfit to eat.’ ‘In good troth,’ said the poet, relying on his judgment, ‘I think so too; but I will be less severe in my punishment.’ He instantly called the waiter, and insisted that he should eat the chop, as a punishment. The waiter resisted, but the doctor threatened to knock him down with his cane if he did not immediately comply. When he had eaten half the chop, the doctor gave him a glass of wine, thinking that it would make the remainder of the sentence less painful to him. When the waiter had finished his repast, Goldsmith’s friend burst into a loud laugh. ‘What ails you now?’ said the poet. ‘Indeed, my good friend,’ said the other, ‘I never could think that any man, whose knowledge of letters is so extensive as yours, could be so great a dupe to a stroke of humor; the chop was as fine a one as I ever saw in my life.’ ‘Was it?’ said Dr. Goldsmith, ‘then I will never give credit to what you say again; and so, in good truth, I think I am even with you.’ Being pressed by his tailor for a debt, he appointed a day for payment, and procured the money in due time; but before the tailor came, Glover called on the doctor, and related a piteous tale of his goods being seized for rent. The thoughtless and benevolent Goldsmith immediately gave Glover all the money he possessed. When the tailor arrived, Goldsmith assured him that had he called a little earlier he should have had his money; ‘but’ added he, ‘I have just parted with every penny I had in the world to a friend in distress. I should have been a cruel wretch, you know, not to have relieved him when it was in my power.’ In the suite of the doctor’s pensioners was one Jack Pilkington, who had served the doctor so many tricks, that he despaired of getting any more money from him, without resorting to a chef d’œuvre once for all. He accordingly called on the doctor one morning, and running about the room in a fit of joy, told him his fortune was made. ‘How so Jack?’ says the doctor. ‘Why,’ replied Jack, ‘the Duchess of Marlborough, you must know, has long had a strange penchant for a pair of white mice; now, as I knew they were sometimes found in the East Indies, I commissioned a friend of mine, who was going out there, to get them for me, and he is this morning arrived with two of the most beautiful little animals in nature.’ After Jack had finished this account with a transport of joy, he lengthened his visage, by telling the doctor all was ruined, for without two guineas, to buy a cage for the mice, he could not present them. The doctor unfortunately, as he said himself, had but half-a-guinea in the world, which he offered him. But Pilkington was not to be beat out of his scheme; he perceived the doctor’s watch hanging up in his room, and after premising on the indelicacy of the proposal, hinted that if he could spare that watch for a week, he could raise a few guineas on it, which he would repay him with gratitude. The doctor accordingly took down the watch, and gave it to him, which Jack immediately carried to the pawnbroker’s,—​raised what he could on it, and never once looked after the doctor, till he sent to borrow another half-guinea from him on his deathbed, which the other, under such circumstances, very generously sent him. One afternoon, as Colonel O’Moore and Mr. Burke were going to dine with Sir Joshua Reynolds, they observed Goldsmith (also on his way to Sir Joshua’s) standing near a crowd of people, who were staring and shouting at some foreign women in the windows of one of the houses in Leicester Square. ‘Observe Goldsmith,’ said Mr. Burke to Colonel O’Moore, ‘and mark what passes between him and me by-and-by at Sir Joshua’s.’ They passed on, and arrived before Goldsmith, who came soon after, and Mr. Burke affected to receive him very coolly. This seemed to vex poor Goldsmith, who begged Mr. Burke would tell him how he had the misfortune to offend him. Burke appeared very reluctant to speak, but, after a good deal of pressing, said ‘that he was really ashamed to keep up an intimacy with one who could be guilty of such monstrous indiscretions as Goldsmith had just exhibited in the square.’ Goldsmith, with great earnestness, protested he was unconscious of what was meant. ‘Why,’ said Burke, ‘did you not exclaim, as you were looking up at those women, What stupid beasts the crowd must be for staring with such admiration at those painted Jezebels, while a man of my talents passes by unnoticed?’ Goldsmith was horror-struck, and said, ‘Surely, surely, my dear friend, I did not say so.’ ‘Nay,’ replied Burke, ‘If you had not said so, how should I have known it?’ ‘That’s true,’ answered Goldsmith, with great humility: ‘I am very sorry; it was very foolish: I do recollect that something of that kind passed through my mind, but I did not think I had uttered it.’

This celebrated historian, the son of a gentleman who for some time represented the borough of Petersfield in parliament, was born at Putney, on the 27th of April, 1737. After having received the elements of instruction at a day school, and under a private tutor, he was, in 1746, sent to an academy at Kingston-upon-Thames; and from thence, in 1748, to Westminster, where he entered the school, and resided in a boarding-house kept by his aunt. His delicate health soon occasioned his removal from Westminster school, though he subsequently attempted to renew his attendance there, after having passed some time at Bath and Winchester, by the advice of his physicians. In his fifteenth year, he was placed under the care of the Rev. Mr. Philip Francis, the translator of Horace: and, on the 3d of April, 1752, he was matriculated as a gentleman commoner of Magdalen College, Oxford. Here, according to his own account, ‘he spent fourteen months, the most unprofitable of his whole life,’ and appears to have been conspicuous only for his dissipation and extravagance. Such a mode of passing his time he attributes less to his own inclination, than to the negligence of his tutors, whom he charges with recommending no plan of study for his use, and prescribing no exercises for his inspection. ‘I was not,’ he says, ‘devoid of capacity or application;’ and insinuates that he might have arrived at academical distinction, ‘in the discipline of a well-constituted university, under the guidance of skillful and vigilant professors.’

His departure from Oxford was hastened by his adoption of the catholic faith, his conversion to which he attributed to a perusal of Bossuet’s Exposition of the Catholic Doctrine, and the History of the Protestant Variations. At a future period he observes: ‘To my present feelings, it seems incredible that I should ever believe that I believed in transubstantiation. But my conqueror oppressed me with the sacramental words, “this is my body;” and dashed against each other the figurative half-meanings of the protestant sects. Every objection was resolved into omnipotence; and, after repeating, at St. Mary’s, the Athanasian creed, I humbly acquiesced in the mystery of the real presence.’ On his arrival in London, he introduced himself to a priest, renounced the protestant, and was admitted a member of the Romish church, in June, 1753. His father was highly indignant at his religious conversion, and sent him, in consequence, to Lausanne in Switzerland, where he resided in the house with Mr. Pavillard, and ‘spent nearly five years with pleasure and profit.’ His tutor, who was a minister, spared no effort to convince him that he had come to an erroneous conclusion concerning the catholic doctrine; and his exertions, aided by the mature reflections of his pupil, were at length successful. ‘The various articles of the Romish creed,’ says our author, ‘disappeared like a dream; and, after a full conviction, on Christmas day, 1754, I received the sacrament in the church of Lausanne.’ During his stay in this city, he made rapid and profitable progress in his studies; and, besides opening a correspondence with the chief literati of the continent, he acquired a knowledge of French and Italian, and perfected his acquaintance with the Greek and Latin languages.

Previous to his leaving Lausanne, he formed an attachment to a Mademoiselle Curchod, the commencement and termination of which, in his own words, is too interesting to be omitted. ‘I saw,’ he says, ‘and loved. I found her learned, without pedantry; lively in conversation; pure in sentiment; elegant in manners. She permitted me to make her two or three visits in her father’s house. I passed some happy days there in the mountains of Burgundy, and her parents honorably encouraged the connexion. In a calm retirement, the gay vanity of youth no longer fluttered in her bosom. She listened to the voice of truth and passion, and I might presume to hope I had made some impression on a virtuous heart. At Crassy and Lausanne, I indulged my dream of felicity; but, on my return to England, I soon discovered that my father would not hear to this strange alliance. After a painful struggle, I yielded to my fate. I sighed as a lover; I obeyed as a son: my wound was insensibly healed by time, absence, and the habits of a new life. My cure was accelerated by a faithful report of the tranquillity and cheerfulness of the lady herself; and my love subsided into friendship and esteem. A rich banker of Paris, a citizen of Geneva, had the good fortune and good sense to discover and possess this inestimable treasure; and, in the capital of taste and luxury, she resisted the temptation of wealth, as she had sustained the hardships of indigence. The genius of her husband has exalted him to the most conspicuous station in Europe; and Mademoiselle Curchod is now the wife of M. Necker.’

In 1758, he returned to England, and took up his residence at his father’s house, where he devoted himself to the gradual collection of a library, and to a strict course of reading. In 1761, he acquired some reputation on the continent, but little at home, by the publication of a small work, written in the French language, entitled, Essai sur l’Etude de la Littérature. His literary occupation received an interruption in the same year, by his entering as captain in the Hampshire militia, in which he remained till the peace of 1763. He then set out for Paris, where the reputation he had acquired by his Essai, procured him an introduction to the first literary and fashionable circles. After a stay of eleven months at Lausanne, he proceeded to Rome, where, as ‘he sat musing amongst the ruins of the capital, while the bare-footed friars were singing vespers in the Temple of Jupiter, the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to his mind.’ He returned from Italy in 1765, and again entered the militia as lieutenant-colonel commandant; but resigned the situation on the death of his father, in 1770. The interval between these periods was passed by him in a variety of amusements and occupations, partly in the country, and partly in London, where, in conjunction with other travelers, he established a weekly convivial meeting, under the name of the Roman Club. Alluding to this period of life, he says, ‘I lamented that, at the proper age, I had not embraced the lucrative pursuits of the law or of trade, the chances of civil office or India adventure, or even the fat slumbers of the church.’ His regret at the want of a profession arose, in a great measure, from an apprehension of being left, in his old age, without a sufficient maintenance; a fear that acted as a stimulus to his subsequent exertions.

He had already-made some progress in a History of the Revolutions of Switzerland, and, in conjunction with his friend Mr. Deyverdun, had produced two volumes of a literary journal, entitled Memoires Littéraires de la Grande Bretagne. The former, however, he committed to the flames, before it was finished, and the latter met with little encouragement. His next performance was more successful; it was a masterly refutation of Warburton’s hypothesis that Virgil’s description of Æneas’ descent into the shades was an allegorical representation of the hero’s initiation into the Eleusinian mysteries. About two years after the death of his father, he sat down steadily to the composition of the first volume of his celebrated history. ‘At the outset,’ he says, ‘all was dark and doubtful; even the title of the work, the true era of the decline and fall of the empire, the limits of the introduction, the division of the chapters, and the order of the narrative; and I was often tempted to cast away the labor of seven years;’ and, again, ‘three times did I compose the first chapter, and twice the second and third, before I was tolerably certain of their effect.’ At length, in 1776, previously to which he had been returned to parliament for the borough of Liskeard, through the influence of his cousin, Mr. Eliot, appeared the first quarto volume of his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. It was received with a burst of applause, and almost immediately reached a third edition; but the most gratifying result to its author was the spontaneous approbation of Hume and Robertson. ‘My book,’ says Gibbon, ‘was on every table, and almost on every toilette.’ The two chapters, however, in which revealed religion was impugned, gave rise to various attacks; but he only thought fit to reply to one, by Mr. Davis, who called in question ‘not the faith, but the fidelity of the historian.’

In parliament, our author was a silent supporter of ministers, and was employed by them to compose, in the French language, a manifesto against that government, which was sent as a state paper to all the courts of Europe, under the title of Memoire Justificatif. For this service he was appointed one of the lords commissioners of trade and the plantations, but on the retirement of the North administration, his place being abolished, he meditated a retirement to Lausanne, for the purpose of completing his History. Previously to his departure from England, the second and third volumes had appeared in 1781, in which he tells us, ‘his Ecclesiastical History still breathed the same spirit of freedom;’ but, ‘that his obstinate silence, with regard to former attacks, had damped the ardor of the polemics.’ In 1783, he sold every thing but his library, and proceeded to Lausanne; where, in conjunction with his friend, Mr. Deyverdun, he took an elegant and beautifully situated house, and devoted himself to the composition of his History, and the pleasures of the society which the place afforded. In four years he brought his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire to a termination, and seems to have arrived at the close of his literary labors with mingled feelings of regret and delight. ‘It was,’ he says, ‘on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy, on the recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy spread over my mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future date of my history, the life of the author might be short and precarious. I will add two facts, which have seldom occurred in the composition of six, or at least five, quartos: First—​My rough manuscript, without any intermediate copy, has been sent to press. Second—​Not a sheet has been seen by any human eyes excepting those of the author and the printer. The faults and merits are exclusively my own.’

In April, 1788, the publication of the concluding volumes took place, under his own superintendence, for which purpose he had come to London, where he passed most of his time with Lords North and Sheffield, and resided with the family of the latter. In July, he returned to Lausanne, but the death of his friend Deyverdun, which occurred shortly afterwards, and ‘the tide of emigration and wretchedness,’ caused by the explosion of the French revolution, had broken the charm which that place once had for him. In 1791, he was visited by Lord Sheffield, and in 1793, on the death of that nobleman’s wife, he, at the earnest desire of the former, proceeded to England, and again took up his residence at his friend’s house. After some months spent in familiar intercourse with the principal political and literary characters of the time, he sunk under the effects of a hydrocele, the result of a rupture, with which he had been afflicted for nearly thirty years. He was tapped several times previously to his decease, which took place on the 16th of January, 1794. On the preceding day he had talked as usual, and, so far from anticipating his death, said, ‘that he thought himself good for a life of ten, twelve, or perhaps twenty years.’

The character of Gibbon, in many points, resembled that of Hume; he died a bachelor; was a gentleman, a sceptic, and a historian; treated his literary antagonists with contempt, and had a dignified sense of his own abilities. He was careful to retain his place in society, by a strict adherence to its established rules; and as he lived for the world, took care not to lose its esteem by any conduct inconsistent with the calmness of a philosopher, the dictates of honor, or the maxims of morality. He possessed a lofty mind and spirit, but acted rather from motive than principle; and, as a politician, he can be considered in no other character than that of a ministerial follower for the sake of convenience and emolument. His conduct in his domestic relations was in the highest degree exemplary; and in his friendships he was sincere, constant, and ardent. He possessed great natural powers of mind, which he assiduously studied to improve: in conversation he is described, by Lord Sheffield, as ready, cheerful, entertaining, brilliant, illuminating, and interesting. As an author, he is among the most distinguished of the eighteenth century; but the lapse of forty years has somewhat impaired his reputation for a style which is now generally admitted to be enigmatical, pompous, and elaborate, where it should have been concise, simple, and explicit. Dr. Beattie says, ‘Such is the affectation of his style, that I could never get through the half of one of his volumes;’ and a celebrated bishop observed of his ‘bulky quartos,’ that they were ‘only fit for the gloom and horror of wintry storms.’ None can deny to it, however, a pervading splendor, stateliness, and majesty; and, indeed, the writer seems to be always on his guard against a common expression, as if he were afraid of degrading his own powers, by descending to the level of ordinary capacities. It is thus that he has some passages of surprising and matchless beauty; and where his language is in keeping with his subject, the understanding is readily captivated, and the ear unconsciously delighted.

As to the matter of his history, the principal charges against him are the grave ones of a covert attempt to overthrow a belief in revealed religion, and a complacent indelicacy of description, especially in the latter volumes. To this he answers, that ‘the licentious passages are confined to the notes, and to the obscurity of a learned language;’ an apology which few, perhaps, will consider sufficient. His attack on Christianity he himself seems to have regretted, though he never retracted. ‘Had I believed,’ he says, ‘that the majority of English readers were so fondly attached, even to the name and shadow of Christianity; had I foreseen that the pious, the timid, and the prudent, would feel, or affect to feel, with such exquisite sensibility; I might, perhaps, have softened the two invidious chapters, which could create many enemies, and conciliate few friends.’ His pathetic observations at the close of his memoirs, show that his own notions offered no security for felicity here, if, as he insinuated, those of others would fail to do so hereafter. After quoting the opinion of Fontenelle, who, he observes, fixes our moral happiness to the mature season in which our passions are supposed to be calmed, our duties fulfilled, our ambition satisfied, our fame and fortune established on a solid basis, he says, ‘I am far more inclined to embrace than to dispute this comfortable doctrine. I will not suppose any premature decay of mind or body; but I must reluctantly observe, that two causes, the abbreviation of time, and the failure of hope, will always tinge with a browner shade the evening of life.’ In a letter to Lord Sheffield, after the death of his wife, he says, ‘the only consolation in these melancholy trials to which human life is exposed, the only one at least in which I have any confidence, is the presence of a real friend.’

This celebrated historian was born at Edinburgh, on the 26th of April, 1711. He was of a good family, both by father and mother, and the former dying whilst he was an infant, he was brought up under the care of his mother, whom he describes as a women of singular merit. A passion for literature took possession of him at a very early period of his education, and, in consequence of his sobriety and studious disposition, he was destined by his family for the law; but ‘while they fancied,’ he says in his autobiography, ‘I was poring upon Voet and Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the authors which I was secretly devouring.’ His health, however, becoming impaired by sedentary application, he, in 1634, went to Bristol, with a view of engaging in mercantile pursuits, but found them unsuitable to his disposition, that in a few months afterwards he took up his residence in France, and laid down a plan of life which he steadily and successfully pursued. ‘I resolved,’ he says, ‘to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune; to maintain unimpaired my independency; and to regard every object as contemptible, except the improvement of my talents in literature.’

After a stay of three years abroad he returned to England, and, in 1738, published his Treatise of Human Nature, the fate of which he describes by saying, ‘it fell dead born from the press.’ Of too sanguine a temperament to be discouraged, he continued his literary labors, and in 1742, printed, at Edinburgh, the first part of his Essays, which were received in a manner that fully compensated for his former disappointments. In 1745, he went to England as tutor to the young Marqueis of Annandale, and after remaining in that situation for a twelvemonth, he stood candidate for the professorship of moral philosophy at Edinburgh, but although strongly supported, the notoriety of his sceptical opinions prevented his success. In 1746, he accepted an invitation from General St. Clair to attend him as a secretary to his expedition, which ended in an incursion on the coast of France; and, in 1747, he accompanied him in his military embassy to the courts of Vienna and Turin. During his residence at the latter place, imagining that his Treatise of Human Nature had failed of success from the manner rather than the matter, he published the first part of the work anew, under the title of an Inquiry concerning Human Understanding. Its new shape, however, made but little difference in its success; and on his return from Italy, Hume observes, ‘I had the mortification to find all England in a ferment, on account of Dr. Middleton’s Free Inquiry, while my performance was entirely overlooked and neglected.’

His disappointment was increased by the failure of a new edition of his Essays; but borne up by the natural cheerfulness of his disposition, he, in 1749, went to his brother’s residence in Scotland, and composed his Political Discourses, and Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, both of which were published at Edinburgh in 1752. At this time his former publications had begun to attract notice, and more than one answer had been written to his Essays, of which, however, he took no notice, having made a fixed resolution, which he inflexibly maintained, never to reply to any body. His Political Discourses were favorably received both abroad and at home, but his Principles of Morals, although, in his own opinion, incomparably the best of all his writings, came, as he says, unnoticed and unobserved into the world. In the year of its application, already mentioned, he was chosen librarian to the Faculty of Advocates, when the large library, of which he had the command, suggested to him the idea of writing the History of England, ‘Being frightened,’ he says, ‘with the notion of continuing a narrative through a period of seventeen hundred years, I commenced with the accession of the House of Stuart; an epoch when I thought the misrepresentation of faction began chiefly to take place.’ The history of this period appeared in one quarto volume, in 1754; but instead of meeting with the applause which he confesses he expected, it was assailed, as he tells us, ‘by one cry of reproach, disapprobation, and even detestation.’ The only individuals of literary consideration from whom he received encouragement to proceed, were the primates of England and Ireland, Drs. Herring and Stone; whilst the sale was so inconsiderable, that, in the course of a twelvemonth, only forty-five copies were disposed of. He attributed the opposition it met with to the regret expressed by the author of the fate of Charles the First and the Earl of Stafford; but, in all probability, it arose from the contemptuous tone in which he spoke of adverse religious parties.

He was so far discouraged by the reception of his work, that he resolved to quit his country for ever, and pass the remainder of his days in France. The war, however, breaking out between that country and England, his intention was frustrated, and he determined to persevere in his historical design. In the meantime he published his Natural History of Religion, which was answered by Warburton in the name of Dr. Hurd, in ‘a pamphlet,’ says our author, that ‘gave me some consolation for the otherwise indifferent reception of my performance.’ In 1756, appeared his second volume of the History of England, containing the period from the death of Charles the First till the Revolution; and, in 1759, it was succeeded by the History of the House of Tudor. This performance was not less obnoxious than his first published volume, but being now grown ‘callous against the impressions of public folly,’ he devoted himself, with calm perseverance, of the early part of the English History, which he completed in two volumes, in 1761.

Notwithstanding the altogether unfavorable reception of his History of England, which had now become a chief standard work, our author received a sum for the copyright, which, together with a pension he enjoyed through the influence of Lord Bute, had procured him not only independence but opulence. He therefore meditated passing the rest of his life in philosophical retirement, when, in 1763, he accepted an invitation to accompany the Earl of Hertford on his embassy to Paris, where his literary reputation obtained for him a reception, which, after the apathy of his own countrymen, astonished and delighted him. He remained at the French capital, in the situation of charge d’affaires, until the beginning of 1766, when he returned to England in company with the celebrated Rousseau, who is said to have repaid the delicate and generous behavior of our author with his usual ingratitude. In 1767, he was appointed under secretary of state to Mr. Conway, and after holding that situation for about two years, he returned to Edinburgh, in 1769, with a fortune of £1,000 a year. The next four years of his life were passed in the enjoyment of ease and reputation; the succeeding portion is best described towards the close of his autobiography, dated April 18th, 1776. ‘In spring 1775,’ he says, ‘I was struck with a disorder in my bowels, which at first gave me no alarm, but has since, as I apprehend it, become mortal and incurable. I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution. I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never suffered a moment’s abatement of my spirits; insomuch, that were I to name a period of my life, which I should most choose to pass over again, I might be tempted to point to this latter period. I possess the same ardor as ever in duty, and the same gayety in company. I consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying, cuts off only a few years of infirmities; and though I see many symptoms of my literary reputation’s breaking out at last with additional lustre, I know that I could have but a few years to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at present.’

After having finished the account of his life, he, at the request of his friends, went to England for the improvement of his health, but returned with no benefit, after a few weeks’ stay at London and Bath. He now employed himself in correcting his works for a new edition, and considering himself as a dying man, talked familiarly and even jocularly of his approaching dissolution. To one of his friends, who, struck by his cheerfulness, could not help expressing hopes of his recovery, he said, ‘Your hopes are groundless; I am dying as fast as my enemies, if I have any, could wish, and as easily and cheerfully as my best friends could desire.’ His weakness increased daily, until the afternoon of the 26th of August 1776, when he expired, says Dr. Black, ‘in such a happy composure of mind, that nothing could exceed it.’

Hume seemed to have formed a very just estimate of his own character: he describes himself as a man of mild disposition, of command of temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humor, capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and of great moderation in all his passions. This account of himself is fully corroborated by Dr. Adam Smith, who speaks of his social and intellectual qualities in the highest strain of eulogy: ‘Upon the whole,’ says the doctor, in his concluding remarks upon the death of Hume, ‘I have always considered him, both in his lifetime and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man, as, perhaps, the nature of human frailty will permit.’ Of this frailty he exhibited no inconsiderable portion in treating all systems of religion as founded in superstition; and, perhaps, there was a levity of conduct immediately preceding his death, which was beyond the dignity even of a philosopher, as it was certainly very opposite to the unpretending resignation of a dying Christian. His person had no affinity to his mind; his face was broad and flat, his mouth wide, his eyes vacant, and the corpulency of his whole person is said to have been better fitted to communicate the idea of a turtle-eating alderman, than of a refined philosopher. At Turin he fell in love with a lady, and addressing her, declared that he was “abime aneanti.” “Oh! pour aneanti,” replied the lady, “ce n’est en effet qu’une operation très naturelle de votre systême.”

In his intellectual character he takes his place in the first rank of modern philosophical sceptics, and it must be confessed that few writers have insisted on their theories with more vigor, self-command, or ability. The merit of his History of England is now generally allowed, though notwithstanding his own claim to perfect impartiality, prejudices, particularly in favor of the House of Stuart, appear in his work, and he has been accused of coloring facts to support his favorite and somewhat erroneous position that the English constitution cannot be considered as a regular plan of liberty before the reigns of the first two Stuarts. Upon the whole, however, few historians are more free from prejudice than Hume; nor is he often excelled in the clearness and eloquence of his style. About seven years after his death appeared an Essay on Suicide, generally believed to have been the production of his pen, and which, it is said, would have appeared in his lifetime, had not the booksellers been afraid to publish it.

An anecdote of Hume is told in one of Dr. Beattie’s letters to Mrs. Montague, which shows that however sincere a sceptic our author may have been, he admitted the propagation of his opinions might be destructive to the morals, if not the happiness, of at least one half of the intellectual world. ‘Mr. Hume,’ says Beattie, ‘was boasting to Dr. Gregory, that among his disciples in Edinburg, he had the honor to reckon many of the fair sex. “Now tell me,” said the doctor, “whether if you had a wife or a daughter, you would wish them to be your disciples? Think well before you answer me; for, I assure you, that, whatever your answer is, I will not conceal it.” Mr. Hume, with a smile, and some hesitation, made this reply: “No; I believe scepticism may be too sturdy a virtue for a woman.”’ At another time, Mrs. Mallet, wife of the poet, meeting him at an assembly, boldly accosted him in these words: ‘Mr. Hume, give me leave to introduce myself to you; we Deists ought to know each other.’ ‘Madam,’ replied he, ‘I am no Deist; I do not style myself so; neither do I desire to be known by that appellation.’

Alexander Pope was born in Lombard Street, London, of Roman Catholic parents, on the 22d of May, 1688. He was according to Johnson, more willing to show what his father was not, than what he was; but his principal biographers make him the son of a linen-draper, who had grown rich enough to retire from business to Binfield, near Windsor. Alexander was deformed from his birth, and of so delicate a constitution, and such weakness of body, that he constantly wore stays; and when taking the air on the water, had a sedan-chair in the boat, in which he sat with the glasses down. He received the early part of his education at home, and, when about eight, was placed under the care of one Taverner, a Romish priest, who taught him the rudiments of Latin and Greek. His taste for poetry was first excited by the perusal of Ogilby’s Homer and Sandy’s Ovid; and, on his removal to school at Twyford, near Winchester, he exercised his talents in verse, by lampooning the master. He was next sent to a school in the vicinity of Hyde Park Corner, whence his occasional visits to the play-house induced such a fondness for theatrical exhibitions, that he composed a play from Ogilby’s Iliad, with some verses of his own intermixed, which was acted by his schoolfellows.

About twelve years of age, when he wrote his earliest production, The Ode of Solitude, he was called by his father to Binfield, where he improved himself by translating into verse the Latin classics, and in reading the English poets. The versification of Dryden particularly struck him, and he conceived such a veneration for the genius of that poet, that he persuaded some friends to take him to the coffeehouse which he frequented, and pleased himself with having seen him. As early as 1702, he had put into more elegant verse Chaucer’s January and May, and The Prologue to the Wife of Bath; and in the same year, he translated the epistle of Sappho to Phaon, from Ovid. At this time, the smoothness of his versification, which might be said to be formed, surpassed his original; ‘but this,’ says Johnson, ‘is a small part of his praise; he discovered such acquaintance both with human and public affairs, as is not easily conceived to have been attainable by a boy of fourteen, in Windsor Forest.’

In 1703, he passed some time in London, in the study of the French and Italian languages; and on his return to Binfield, wrote a comedy, a tragedy, or epic poem, with panegyrics on all the princes of Europe, and, as he confesses, ‘thought himself the greatest genius that ever was.’ Many of the productions upon which he founded this idea of himself, he subsequently destroyed; nor is it from an earlier period than 1705, that his life, as an author, is properly computed. In that year, he wrote his Pastorals, which, together with the very elegant and learned preface, received the praise of all the poets and the critics of the time; to whose society he, in the following year, more particularly introduced himself, by attending Will’s Coffee-house, in London, where most of them used to assemble. His pastorals did not appear until 1709, and in the same year he wrote, and in 1711 published, his Essay on Criticism, which he seems to have considered either so learned or so obscure, as to declare that ‘not one gentleman in sixty, even of a liberal education, could understand it.’ The piece was translated into French and German, and however overrated may have been the author’s estimation of it, has not been inadequately praised by Johnson, who observes that it displayed extent of comprehension, nicety of distinction, acquaintance with mankind, and knowledge both of ancient and modern learning, not often attained by the maturest age and longest experience. The essay, however, was not without opponents, and was attacked in a bitter and elaborate pamphlet, by Dennis, in consequence of some lines applied to him by Pope, whom he designated as ‘a little affected hypocrite, who had nothing in his mouth at the same time but truth, candor, friendship, good-nature, humanity and magnanimity.’ In this year, he also wrote his Messiah, first published in The Spectator, and his verses on the Unfortunate Lady, who, we are told by Ruffhead, having been removed by her guardian into a foreign country to avoid the addresses of Pope, put an end to her life by stabbing herself with a sword.

His next production was The Rape of the Lock, which is considered the most airy, the most ingenious, and the most delightful of all his compositions. The origin of it is too well known to need repetition here; but it is doubtful, as generally asserted, whether it had the effect of reconciling the parties whose conduct gave rise to the subject. On its first appearance, Addison called it a delicious little thing, and urged Pope not to alter it: he was, however, too confident of improving it to follow this advice, and considerably altered, and added to, the poem. ‘His attempt,’ says Johnson, ‘was justified by its success: The Rape of the Lock stands forward in the classes of literature as the most exquisite example of ludicrous poetry.’ In 1712, he published The Temple of Fame, and, about the same period, his Eloise to Abelard; to the composition of which he was led, according to Savage, by the perusal of Prior’s Nut-brown Maid. In 1713, appeared his Windsor Forest, the conclusion of which is said to have given pain to Addison, both as a poet and politician; but this is doubted by Johnson, who, in proof of the apparant friendship that continued to exist between the two poets, refers to the prologue of Cato, written by Pope, and also to a defense of that tragedy against the attacks of Dennis. About this time, the subject of our memoir is said to have studied painting under Jervis, and to have made progress enough to take the portraits of several of his friends.

He now turned his attention to the completion of his Iliad, which he offered to subscribers in six quarto volumes, for six guineas. The subscription soon rose to an amount that, while it gratified, at the same time alarmed him, when he thought of the extent of his undertaking; which, he says, disturbed him in his dreams at night, and made him wish that somebody would hang him. It was also given out, by some of his enemies, that he was deficient in Greek; and Addison, who does certainly, in this instance, seem to have been jealous of the fame of Pope, hinted to the Whigs, with a view to impede the subscription, that he was too much of a Tory; whilst this suspected him to be of the other party, in consequence of his contributions to Steele’s Guardian. His genius, however, carried him above all difficulties; and at the rate of about fifty lines per day, he soon completed the whole of the volumes, though his repeated alterations delayed the appearance of the sixth until 1720. The clear profit which he gained by this work amounted to £5,324 4s.; a sum that relieved him from his present pecuniary difficulties, and enabled him to secure himself against future ones, by the purchase of considerable annuities.

The Iliad, which is described by the author’s biographer already mentioned, as not only one of the noblest versions of English poetry ever seen by the world, but, as one of the greatest events in the annals of learning, was a source of much annoyance to Pope, both during its progress and after its completion. Whilst it failed to gain him a patron, it also lost him a friend; the coldness of Addison he returned with indignation, and the overtures of Lord Halifax with indifference and contempt. He had taken umbrage at the conduct of the former, in endeavoring to create a rivalry between his translation of Homer and Tickall’s; the appearance of which, at the same time with his own, he had good reasons for attributing to the instrumentality of Addison. A reconciliation between them was afterwards attempted to be brought about, by Steele; but the interview only increased their mutual dislike, which continued to the end of their lives. Another reason assigned for Pope’s quarrel with Addison, is, that he had given one Gildon ten guineas to abuse the former in a letter, which was published respecting Wycherley. ‘On hearing of which,’ says Pope, ‘I wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, to let him know that I was not unacquainted with this behavior of his; that if I were to speak severely of him in return for it, it should not be in such a dirty way; that I should rather tell him myself fairly of his faults, and allow his good qualities; and that it should be something in the following manner. I then adjoined the first sketch of what has since been called my satire on Addison,—​the character of Atticus.’ Our author’s contempt for Lord Halifax arose from that nobleman’s delay in the bestowal of his patronage, until he had secured some compliment, in the way of dedication or otherwise, which the poet was not over anxious to render. ‘They, probably,’ says Johnson, ‘were suspicious of each other: Pope would not dedicate till he saw at what rate his praise was valued; Halifax thought himself entitled to confidence, and would give nothing unless he knew what he should receive.’

Pope had removed to his celebrated villa, at Twickenham, in the year 1715, when the first volume of his Iliad was published, from which time he generally continued to reside there. In 1717, he collected his former works into one quarto volume; and in 1720, partaking of the national infatuation, he lost a slight sum of money in the South Sea stock. In 1721, he was induced, by a reward of £217 12s., to give his name and labors to an edition of Shakspeare, in which his various errors were detected and exposed with all the insolence of victory, by Theobald, in a book called, Shakspeare Restored. From this time, says Johnson, Pope became an enemy to editors, collators, and verbal critics; and hoped to persuade the world that he miscarried in this undertaking only by having a mind too great for such minute employments. The same authority tells us that, in 1723, he appeared as a witness on the trial of Bishop Atterbury, and that, in the few words he had to utter, he made several blunders. In 1725, appeared his translation of the Odyssey, in which he was assisted by Broome and Fenton; the former of whom he is said to have treated with great illiberality. About the year 1726, he had the misfortune to be overturned in the water whilst passing a bridge in a friend’s coach, by which he narrowly escaped drowning, and lost the use of two of his fingers from the breaking of the windows. Upon this occasion he received a letter of consolation from Voltaire, whom he had previously entertained at this table, where he is said to have talked with so much grossness, that Pope was driven from the room.

In 1727, he joined with Swift in the publication of three volumes of Miscellanies, wherein was inserted his Art of Sinking in Poetry; and in the following year appeared his Dunciad, a general attack against all the inferior authors of his time, whom he distinguished by the appellation of The Dunces. ‘On the day the book was first vended,’ says Pope, ‘a crowd of authors besieged the shop; entreaties, advices, threats of law and battery, nay, cries of treason, were all employed to hinder the coming out of the Dunciad.’ The poem excited a great sensation in all quarters, and was presented to the king and queen by Sir Robert Walpole. It is said to have blasted the literary reputation of all those whom it touched, and to have driven many of them to such an extent of hatred against the author, that they held weekly clubs to consider how they might injure him, and brought his image in clay for the purpose of executing him in effigy. In 1731, he published a poem on Taste, by which he incurred the odium of all parties, in consequence of ridiculing, under the name of Timon, his former friend and patron, the Duke of Chandos; to whom he wrote an explanatory letter, as full of hypocrisy as his verses were of ingratitude. In 1733, he published anonymously, the first, and in 1735, under his own name, the fourth part of his Essay on Man; the idea of which he acknowledges to have received from Bolingbroke, who is said to have ridiculed Pope as having advanced in it principles of which he did not perceive the consequence, and as blindly propagating opinions contrary to his own. Pope certainly appears to more advantage as a poet than a theologist in this production; which was on its translation into French, attacked with great skill by Professor Crousaz, of Switzerland, who discovered that many of the positions contained inferences against the doctrines of revelation. Warburton, however, defended the essay, in a manner that ever afterwards secured him the gratitude and friendship of Pope, who took the opportunity of acknowledging that he had not explained his own meaning properly, and of disclaiming any intention to propagate the principles of Bolingbroke.

His next poems in succession, were An Epistle to lord Bathurst, the Characters of Men and of Women, several imitations of Horace, Dr. Donne’s Satires, and an Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. In 1737, he published, by subscription, a quarto volume of his Correspondence; for the previous publication of which, by Curill, whom he had prosecuted in the house of lords, he accounts, in his preface, by saying that his letters had been stolen from a friend’s library, and thence sent privately to the press. There is, however, good reason to believe that they were printed with his own connivance, in order to give him an opportunity of subsequently publishing them himself, without incurring the imputation of vanity. In 1738, at which time he was visited by the Prince of Wales, and was of the opposition party, he published two Satirical Dialogues, in which he attacked several statesmen, but with a view rather of displaying his powers as a satirist than his sentiments as a patriot. These works were followed, in 1742, by a fourth book of The Dunciad, which brought on a paper war between himself and Cibber; his attack against whom he repeated, in a new edition of that work, in a strain of virulence that contributed more to the amusement of his readers than to his own reputation. From this time his vital powers gradually declined; he gave over original composition, and passed his time in the correction and revisal of his former works, and in social intercourse with his intimate friends, the chief of whom appear to have been Warburton and lord Bolingbroke. An asthma, with which he had been for some years affected, now terminating in a dropsy, his end visibly approached; he met it with resignation and calmness; and after having taken the sacrament, and exclaimed, a short time previously to death, ‘there is nothing meritorious but friendship and virtue!’ he expired, on the 30th of May, 1744, so placidly that the attendants did not ascertain the exact time of his dissolution. He was interred at Twickenham, where a monument was erected to him by Warburton, to whom he lelft half his library and the copyright of such of his works already printed as were not otherwise disposed of.

The character of Pope has been differently estimated by his biographers, Warburton, Bowles, Warton and Johnson. The last seems to have treated it in the most impartial manner; but his view of it is too diffuse and incongruous to be altogether satisfactory. Upon the whole Pope seems to have been more deserving of praise than he is represented; he has been considered exclusively in his literary character to have had justice done to him as a man. His reputation even as a poet, in the complete sense of the word, has been a subject of dispute with many; but it is idle to deny him a title to which none have so zealously, if so successfully, aspired. It is not to be denied that, upon the ground-work of others, he has raised some of his most beautiful superstructures; but from whatever sources he may have drawn his ideas, he has transferred them immortally to his own verses, by the manner in which he there enshrined them. His Iliad will probably continue to supersede all other translations; whilst the exquisite machinery of the sylphs in The Rape of the Lock, and the vigorous animation and pathetic tenderness pervading his Verses on the Unfortunate Lady, evince an original genius which may successfully challenge competition: His avowed model was Dryden; between whom and himself, Johnson, in drawing an elaborate comparison, says, that where the one delights the other astonishes; that Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid,—​Pope always smooth, uniform, and gentle. His conclusion seems to be that the former wrote the brighter paragraphs, the latter the better poems. ‘Pope,’ he observes, ‘had perhaps the judgment of Dryden; but Dryden certainly wanted the diligence of Pope.’ His Ode to St. Cecelia’s Day, the same authority thinks inferior to Dryden’s, but his Epistle of Eloise to Abelard he ranks as one of the most happy productions of human wit. For seductive eloquence and splendor of imagery, his Essay on Man is unequaled; but stripped of their ornaments, the sentiments will be found commonplaces and the diction bombastic. His epistolary writings, composed, doubtless, with a view to publication, attest the care and elegance of his pen, but are too full of that affectation and ambition, with which he himself confesses his early letters to have been vitiated.

Vanity and affectation were principal features in the character of Pope; like Byron, he pretended a hatred of the world, whilst his highest pleasure consisted in pleasing those who lived in it; and his egotism is sufficiently manifest in the contempt with which he treated all excellence in others that had not some affinity with his own. One of his boasts was, that he never obtained the notice of one titled acquaintance by adulation or servility; and Johnson, in confirming this, says, that he never flattered those whom he did not love or praised those whom he did not esteem. An exception to this, however, appears in his conduct towards Lord Hervey and Lady Wortley Montagu, in a memoir of whom he will be found apologizing in a strain of meanness and hypocrisy commensurate with the grossness and vindictiveness of his previous abuse. But though sometimes violent in his attacks and mean in his retreat, he was warm and constant in his friendships; and his social qualities, says Johnson, exhibit a perpetual and unclouded effulgence of general benevolence. Though his fortune was far from splendid, he assisted Dodsley with £100 to open a shop, and of the subscription of £40 a-year that he raised for Savage, £20 were paid by himself.

In his domestic concerns, he was frugal almost to parsimoniousness; in proof of which, it is said, that he used to write his compositions on the backs of letters; and after a scanty entertainment to two of his guests, would place a single pint of wine, with two small glasses, upon the table, and say, ‘Gentlemen, I leave you to your wine.’ He, however, would sometimes give a splendid dinner to a party of his friends, and is said himself to have been so great an epicure, that his heart was often won by a present of some luxury for his table. He used constantly to call for coffee in the night, when it is not probable he took much sleep, if the story of Lord Oxford’s domestic be true, that she was called from her bed, by him, four times in one night, to supply him with paper, lest he should lose a thought. He did not excel in conversation; and it was said no merriment of others, or of his own, excited him to laughter. There appears to have been a certain littleness and artifice in his intercourse with mankind, particularly with regard to trifles, which made Lady Bolingbroke say that ‘he played the politician about cabbages and turnips.’ In his person, he was so much beneath the middle stature, that, to bring him to a level with common tables, it was necessary to raise his seat; his countenance was, upon the whole, prepossessing, and his eyes were animated and expressive. His physical debility continued throughout his life; to conceal the tenuity of his legs, he wore three pairs of stockings; and being unable to dress or undress himself, could neither retire to rest, nor rise, without assistance.

An important feature in his private history, is his intimacy with Martha Blount, the daughter of a Catholic gentleman, near Reading, who is said to have been his intimate confidant and companion through life. She possessed great influence over him, and though she treated him with great neglect for some time previous to his death, he left her the greater part of his property. With this temporary exception, those to whom Pope was attached, remained his warm friends to the last; and Bolingbroke, who wept over him in his last illness, said, ‘I never knew in my life a man that had so tender a heart for his particular friends, or more general friendship for mankind.’ Having discovered, however, after the death of Pope, whom he had commissioned to procure a few impressions of his Patriot King, that he had ordered one thousand five hundred copies to be privately printed, Bolingbroke was so enraged at the transaction, that he exerted his utmost efforts to blast the memory of the man over whom he had so lately shed tears of affection and regret. For this artifice, of which the motive is not apparent, Warburton attempted to apologize; but in so unsatisfactory a manner, that it produced an answer, by Mallet, in A Letter to the most Impudent Man living.

We conclude our memoir of this paradoxical character, with the following anecdotes respecting him:—​Lord Halifax having expressed himself dissatisfied with several passages in Pope’s translation of the Iliad, the latter observed to Garth, that, as he could not see where any alteration could be made for the better, his lordship’s observation had laid him under some difficulty. ‘All that you need do,’ said Garth, laughing, ‘is to leave them just as they are; call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence, thank him for his kind observations on those passages, and then read them to him as altered.’ Pope followed his advice, waited on Lord Halifax some time after, said he hoped his lordship would find his objections to those passages removed, read them to him exactly as they were at first, and his lordship was extremely pleased with them, and cried out, ‘ay, now they are perfectly right; nothing can be better.’

On Pope’s receiving, at his house, the Prince of Wales, with the most dutiful expression of attachment, the former remarked, ‘how shall we reconcile your love to a prince with your professed indisposition to kings, since princes will be kings in time?’ ‘Sir,’ replied the poet, ‘I consider royalty under that noble and authorized type of the lion; while he is young, and before his nails are grown, he may be approached and caressed with safety and pleasure.’ During his last illness, a squabble happening between his two physicians, Dr. Burton and Dr. Thompson, who mutually charged each other with hastening the death of their patient by improper prescriptions, Pope silenced them by saying, ‘gentlemen, I only learn by your discourse that I am in a dangerous way; therefore all I now ask is, that the following epigram may be added, after my death, to the next edition of The Dunciad, by way of postscript—

Pope, though some have attributed them to Young, is also said to have composed, on being asked for an extempore couplet, by lord Chesterfield, the following lines, with the pencil of that nobleman:—

John Adams, a distinguished patriot of the revolution, was born at Braintree, Massachusetts, October 19, 1735. The ancestors of Mr. A. had left England for the wilds of America, in order to enjoy their religious opinions unmolested. They were among the first settlers of Massachusetts, Henry Adams, the great-great-grandfather of John, and one of the original proprietors of the town of Braintree, having fled from England, with other Puritans, in the year 1630. Their condition was that of substantial yeomen, who possessed the fee simple of their lands, and maintained themselves and families by manual labor. Mr. A. having, when yet a boy, evinced great fondness for books, and readiness in learning, his father determined to give him a collegiate education, and placed him, in consequence, under the care of Mr. Marsh (who was afterwards the preceptor of the celebrated Josiah Quincy), that he might be prepared for entrance into the university of Cambridge. He remained in that institution until the year 1755, when he received his bachelor’s degree, and in 1758 that of master of arts. Whilst at college, he is said to have been distinguished by intense application, retentiveness of memory, acuteness of reasoning, boldness and originality of thought, strength of language, and an honesty of character which could neither assume nor tolerate disguise. After he had left college, he commenced the study of law, at Worcester, with colonel James Putnam, and, during the period he was so engaged, instructed pupils in the Latin and Greek languages, in order to be able to defray his expenses himself. Before proceeding farther, it may not be amiss to notice the posture of affairs in Massachusetts at that epoch. For a long time past, that province had been disturbed by almost unremitted contentions between its inhabitants and the parliament of Great Britain, on various important subjects. The English legislature had, in fact, nothing to do with the colonies, as all dominion acquired by conquest or discovery invariably accrued to the king. To him alone the emigrants paid allegiance and applied for protection, and, although parliament always affected to believe itself entitled to regulate their concerns, they received very little interruption from it in the exercise of the privilege granted them by the king of governing and legislating for themselves. In the course of time, however, parliament became jealous of the power, approaching to independence, which they enjoyed, and began to impose unconstitutional restraints upon their commerce, to violate their charters, and, in short, to treat them so arbitrarily, that their spirit was completely roused, and a vigorous resistance called forth. Massachusetts, especially, had become a theatre of perpetual struggle for power on the one side, and for freedom on the other. But it was hitherto only an intellectual warfare, no idea of a separation from the mother country having been entertained. In 1758, Mr. A. left the office of colonel Putnam, and entered that of Jeremiah Gridley, then attorney-general of the province, and of the highest eminence at the bar. Gridley had, some years previously, superintended also the legal studies of James Otis, and, proud of his two pupils, used often to say, that ‘he had raised two young eagles, who were, one day or other, to peck out his eyes.’ In 1759, Mr. A. was admitted, at his recommendation, a member of the bar of Suffolk. Mr. A. commenced the practice of his profession in that part of his native town now called Quincy, but first brought himself into notice by his defense of a prisoner in the county of Plymouth, from which time a sufficiency of lucrative business generally occupied his attention. In 1761, he was admitted to the degree of barrister at law, and shortly afterwards was placed in the possession of a small landed estate by his father’s decease. In February of this year, an incident occurred, which inflamed his enthusiasm in the cause of his country’s rights to the highest pitch. The British cabinet had long shown a desire to assert the sovereign authority of parliament over the colonies in all cases of taxation and internal policy; but the first evidence of its having determined to do so was an order in council, issued this year, enjoining the officers of the customs in Massachusetts Bay to execute the acts of trade, and make application for writs of assistance, to the supreme judicature of the province. These writs were a species of general search-warrants, authorizing those who were empowered to carry them into effect to enter all houses, warehouses, etc., for the purpose of discovering and seizing such goods as were not discharged from the taxes imposed upon them by the acts. The officers of the customs applied for them, in pursuance of their instructions, to the court at Salem, but the demand was refused, on account of doubts concerning their constitutionality. It was then determined to have the affair argued by counsel in Boston. Great alarm now pervaded the whole community. Mr. Otis was engaged, by the merchants of Salem and Boston, to oppose the concession of so formidable an instrument of arbitrary power. In order to do so with entire freedom, he resigned the lucrative station of advocate-general in the court of admiralty, which he then enjoyed. Of the masterly manner in which he performed his duty, Mr. A., who was present at the discussion, has transmitted a vivid account. ‘Otis,’ says he, ‘was a flame of fire! With a promptitude of classical allusion, a depth of research, a rapid summary of historical events and dates, a profusion of legal authorities, a prophetic glance of his eyes into futurity, and a rapid torrent of impetuous eloquence, he hurried away all before him. American Independence was then and there born.’ He afterwards adds, ‘Every man of an immensely crowded audience appeared to me to go away, as I did, ready to take arms against writs of assistance.’ Speaking of this discourse on another occasion, he said, ‘that James Otis, then and there, first breathed into this nation the breath of life.’ In 1764, he married Abigail Smith, second daughter of the Rev. William Smith, of Weymouth, and grand-daughter of colonel Quincy, of Mount Wollaston, a lady every way worthy of her husband, endowed by nature with a countenance singularly noble and lovely, and with a mind whose fine powers were improved by an excellent education. Her ardor in the cause of her country was as elevated as his own, and her piety unaffected and exemplary. About a year afterwards, Mr. A. published in the Boston Gazette several pieces, under the title of ‘An Essay on Canon and Feudal Law,’ which were reprinted in London, in 1768, and called ‘A Dissertation on Canon and Feudal Law.’ It is, perhaps, not the smallest proof of its merit, that it was there attributed to Gridley, who at that time enjoyed the highest reputation for ability. The friends of the colonies in England termed it ‘one of the very best productions ever seen from North America.’ The name of the real author was afterwards divulged, in 1783, when it was published in Philadelphia, by Robert Bell, in a pamphlet form, with lord Sheffield’s observations on the commerce of the American States, and entitled ‘An Essay on Canon and Feudal Law, by John Adams, Esq.’ It seems to have been the principal object of the author to extinguish, as far as possible, the blind and almost superstitious veneration of his countrymen for the institutions of the parent country, by holding up to their abhorrence the principles of the canon and feudal law, and showing to them the conspiracy which existed between church and state, for the purpose of oppressing the people. He inculcates the sentiments of genuine liberty, as well as the necessity of correct information on the part of his fellow-citizens, in order that they might be prepared to assert and maintain their rights by force, if force should ever become necessary. It was indeed a work eminently calculated to excite the people of America to resist, at all hazards, any infringement of their liberties. In December, 1765, Mr. A. was engaged, as counsel with Mr. Gridley and Mr. Otis, to support, before the governor and council, a memorial presented to the former, from the town of Boston, praying that the courts, which had been closed on account of the opposition to the stamp act, might again be opened. Through their united exertions, the petition was successful. In the same year, he removed to Boston, where he continued in the practice of his profession on a very extensive scale. After he had resided there about two years, the crown officers of the province, thinking, perhaps, that his patriotism was not without its price, made him an offer, through Mr. Sewall (between whom and himself an intimate friendship subsisted, formed at the time when he was studying with colonel Putnam), of the office of advocate-general in the court of admiralty, the most lucrative post in the gift of the governor. This office also was one which conducted its incumbents directly to the highest provincial honors. He refused it, however, as he says in his preface to the late edition of Novanglus, ‘decidedly and peremptorily, though respectfully.’ In 1769, he was appointed chairman of the committee chosen by the town of Boston, for the purpose of drawing up instructions to their representatives, to resist the encroachments of the British government. His colleagues were R. Dana and Jos. Warren. At the time they were thus employed, the metropolis was invested by an armed force, both by sea and land, and the state-house surrounded by a military guard, with cannon pointed at the door. Large majorities of both houses of parliament had signified their approval of the measures adopted by the king; had promised him their support, and besought him to prosecute, within the realm, all those who had been guilty of treasonable acts, in Massachusetts, since the year 1767, in accordance with the decree of parliament of the 35th of Henry VIII. Nevertheless, the committee performed their task with undaunted firmness, and reported the instructions which, no doubt, contributed to produce the strong resolutions subsequently adopted by the legislature of Massachusetts. It was on account of these instructions and resolutions, that the provincial garrison was withdrawn, by order of the governor, from the castle, and regular troops, in the pay of the crown, substituted. The instructions also formed one of the specific charges made against the colony by the committee of the lords of council for plantation affairs, to the lords of council, July 6, 1770.

A striking example of the firmness and uprightness of Mr. A. occurred during the course of that year. He had, hitherto, been very active in stimulating the people of his province to the strenuous maintenance of their rights, and had thereby aided in producing an excitement greater than he could have wished, and which he found it necessary to counteract. The people of Boston had become exasperated at the idea of a garrison placed in their city, and were extremely hostile to the soldiers composing it. These feelings led to an attack upon a party of them under the command of captain Preston, March 5. They fired on the assailants in self-defense, and killed several of them. The soldiers were immediately arraigned before the civil authority, and Mr. Adams, in conjunction with Josiah Quincy and Mr. Sampson S. Blowers, was requested to aid them upon their trial. Although the minds of the people were inflamed almost to madness, and the defense of the accused seemed to involve a certain loss of popularity, Mr. A. immediately undertook to act as their advocate. Mr. A. was no demagogue; he saw that the honor of his country was at stake, and he rejoiced, as has been well said, in the opportunity of showing to the world, that the cause of America did not depend upon a temporary excitement, which could stifle the voice of justice, but upon the sober, steady, persevering determination of the people to support their rights. The cause was conducted by him and his colleagues with great ability, and the soldiers were all acquitted save two, who were found guilty of manslaughter, received a slight branding as a punishment, and were then discharged. Scarcely any thing which occurred during the revolution confers more honor upon the national character, and did more service to the cause of America, than this triumph of justice. Mr. A. soon received a proof that the public confidence in him was not diminished, by his election, in May, 1770, to the legislature of his state, as one of the representatives of the town of Boston. His conduct in this new situation displayed the same patriotism, courage and hostility to the despotism of the mother country, by which he had always been distinguished. He took a prominent part in every public measure, and served on several committees, who reported some of the most important state papers of the time; among which were the address and protest to the governor against the removal of the general court from Boston to Cambridge. In Bradford’s History of Massachusetts, we find the following account of a controversy in which Mr. A. was engaged in the year 1773. ‘The ministerial regulation for paying the salary of the judges, which rendered them wholly dependent on the crown, was the occasion of a learned and able discussion in the public papers, by William Brattle, senior member of the council, and John Adams. The essays of the latter were written with great learning and ability, and had a happy effect in enlightening the public mind on a question of very great importance. It subjected him, indeed, to the displeasure of governor Hutchinson and the ministerial party; and at the next election in May, when chosen by the assembly into the council, the governor gave his negative to the choice. These essays were published in the Boston Gazette of February, 1773, under Mr. Adams’ proper signature, and would make a pamphlet of 50 or 60 pages.’ In 1774, he was again rejected by governor Gage, and soon afterwards he was appointed one of the committee of the town of Boston, who prepared the celebrated resolutions on the Boston port-bill. June 17, of this year, governor Gage, having dissolved the assembly, this body, before separating, passed a resolution to appoint a committee to meet other committees from other colonies, for the purpose of consulting upon their common interests, and, in consequence, Mr. Thomas Cushing, Mr. Samuel Adams, Mr. John Adams and Mr. Robert Treat Paine were elected to the first continental congress, which met at Philadelphia in the following September. Soon after Mr. A. was chosen, an incident occurred which gives an idea of his feelings on contemplating this great and daring national movement. His friend Sewall, who had taken the ministerial side in politics, and was at that time attorney-general of the province, hearing of his election, invited him to a morning walk, in the course of which he endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose of assuming the seat in congress to which he had been appointed. He told him that the determination of Great Britain to pursue her system was fixed; that her power was irresistible, and would involve him in destruction, as well as all his associates who persevered in opposition to her designs. ‘I know,’ replied he, ‘that Great Britain has determined on her system, and that very determination determines me on mine. You know that I have been constant and uniform in opposition to her designs. The die is now cast. I have passed the Rubicon. Sink or swum, live or die, survive or perish with my country, is my fixed, unalterable determination.’ On bidding him adieu, Mr. A. said to his friend, ‘I see we must part, and with a bleeding heart I say, I fear forever. But, you may depend upon it, this adieu is the sharpest thorn on which I ever set my foot.’ Mr. A. took his seat in congress, September 5, 1774, the first day of their session, and was soon chosen a member of some of the most important committees, such as that which drew up the statement of the rights of the colonies, and that which prepared the address to the king. He and his colleagues carried with them the character of being so thoroughly desirous of independence, that, before they arrived at Philadelphia, warning had been given to them, by many of the most respectable inhabitants of the Middle States, not to utter a word on that subject, as it was as unpopular as the stamp act itself. Almost all the delegates from the other colonies were impressed with the idea that England could be brought to terms, without resorting to a declaration of independence. Washington alone, of the Virginia delegation, was doubtful whether the measures adopted by congress would be efficacious in attaining the object for which they were designed. In one of his letters, Mr. A. says, that Richard Henry Lee used the following language to him, when they parted: ‘We shall infallibly carry all our points; you will be completely relieved; all the offensive acts will be repealed; the army and fleet will be recalled, and Britain will give up her foolish project.’ On his return to Massachusetts, he became engaged in a controversy with his friend Sewall, who was writing a series of essays under the appellation of Massachusettensis, for the purpose of vindicating the cause of the government party. Mr. A.’s papers were published in the Boston Gazette, with the signature of Novanglus, and exhibit the cause of America in the most triumphant and favorable light. When Mr. A. resumed his seat in congress the following year, hostilities had in reality commenced between Great Britain and the colonists, though as yet not openly declared, and the blood of numbers of brave men had stained the plains of Lexington and Concord. On receiving the account of this battle, congress determined upon war. It was necessary to fix upon some one for the post of commander-in-chief of the troops which were ordered to be raised. The eyes of all the New England delegation were turned upon General Ward, then at the head of the army in Massachusetts. At a meeting of them, when that officer was proposed for nomination, Mr. A. alone dissented, and urged the selection of George Washington, one of the representatives from Virginia. He was resisted, and left the meeting with the declaration that Washington on the next day should be nominated. He was accordingly nominated, at the instigation of Mr. A., by governor Johnstone of Maryland, and chosen without an opposing voice. Five days after the appointment of General Washington, Mr. Jefferson made his first appearance on the floor of congress, having been chosen by the people of Virginia to fill the place of Patrick Henry, who had lately been elected the governor of that province. Between this distinguished man and Mr. A. a friendship speedily arose, which subsisted, with a short interruption, during the remainder of their lives. When Mr. A. returned to Massachusetts, after the dissolution of the congress of 1775, the post of chief justice of the state was offered to him, which he declined, on account of his belief that he should be able to render more effectual service to the cause of his country in its national councils. At the time that he resumed his seat in them in 1776, hostilities were active between Great Britain and the colonies. But the object of the latter was as yet merely to resist the authority assumed by the parent country to impose taxes upon them at pleasure. Few persons entertained the idea of a dissolution of connexion; very few, even of the delegates in congress, seemed to desire it; but among those few John Adams was the foremost. We have already mentioned its unpopularity. As soon as Mr. A. was suspected in Philadelphia of being an advocate of that measure, he was represented constantly in the most odious light, and even pointed at and avoided on appearing in the streets. Still, however, he persevered, made every day proselytes, and, May 6, 1776, moved in congress a resolution, which was, in fact, a virtual declaration of independence, recommending to the colonies ‘to adopt such a government as would, in the opinion of the representatives of the people, best conduce to the happiness and safety of their constituents and of America.’ This passed, after a hard struggle, on the 15th of the same month, and was the prelude to the glorious and daring resolution, moved by Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia, on the 7th of June following, and seconded by Mr. A., ‘that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown; and that all political connexion between them and the state of Great Britain is, and of right ought to be, totally dissolved.’ The debate upon this motion was of the most animated character. It continued from the 7th to the 10th, when the further discussion of the measure was postponed to the 1st of July. A committee of five was also appointed to prepare a provisional draft of a declaration of independence. The members of it were chosen by ballot, and were Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert R. Livingston. Mr. Jefferson and Mr. A. were deputed a sub-committee to prepare the instrument, the former of whom, at the earnest solicitation of the latter, became its author.

On the 1st of July, Mr. Lee’s resolution was again considered, and debated during that and the following day, when it was finally adopted. The draft of the declaration was then submitted for the purpose of undergoing an examination in detail. It was passed on the 4th of the same month, as prepared by Mr. Jefferson, with only a few alterations, which were made through a prudent deference to the views of some of the states. Mr. A. always preferred the draft as it originally stood. The declaration was not adopted without serious opposition from many members of the congress, including John Dickinson, one of the ablest men in that assembly. But their arguments were completely overthrown by the force and eloquence of Mr. A., whose speech on the subject of independence is said to have been unrivaled. Mr. Jefferson himself has affirmed, ‘that the great pillar of support to the declaration of independence, and its ablest advocate and champion on the floor of the house, was John Adams.’ Speaking of his general character as an orator, the same illustrious man observed, that he was ‘the Colossus of that congress: not graceful, not elegant, not always fluent in his public addresses, he yet came out with a power, both of thought and expression, which moved his hearers from their seats.’ Mr. Silas Deane, who was a commissioner with Dr. Franklin and Mr. Arthur Lee, at the court of Versailles, having been recalled, Mr. A. was chosen, Nov. 28, 1777, to fill his place. By this appointment, he was released from the laborious and important duties of chairman of the board of war, which post he had filled since June 13, 1776. It is stated that he was a member of ninety committees, twice as many as any other representative, except Richard Henry Lee and Samuel Adams, of twenty-five of which he was chairman, though it was the policy to put Virginia generally at the head. Among these committees were several of the greatest consequence; one of them was that which was sent to Staten Island at the request of lord Howe, who had solicited an interview with some of the members of congress, which, however, produced no effect, on account of the refusal of his lordship to consider them as commissioners from congress, and the declaration of Mr. A., that ‘he might view him in any light he pleased, except in that of a British subject.’ About two months after his appointment, Mr. A. embarked in the Boston frigate, and arrived safely at his place of destination, though an English fleet had been despatched to intercept him. The treaties of commerce and alliance with France were signed before he reached that country, and, after remaining there until the following August, he returned to the United States, the nomination of Dr. Franklin as minister plenipotentiary to the court of Versailles having superseded the powers of the commissioners. Immediately on his arrival, he was elected a member of the convention to prepare a form of government for the state of Massachusetts, and placed upon the sub-committee chosen to draft the project of a constitution, to be laid before that body. The general frame of the constitution, particularly the manner of dividing and distributing power, and the clause respecting the duty incumbent upon government with regard to the patronage of literature and the arts and sciences, were the work of his pen. Three months after his return, congress again sent him abroad with two commissions, one as minister plenipotentiary to negotiate a peace, the other to form a commercial treaty with Great Britain. He embarked in the French frigate Sensible, Nov. 17, and was forced to land at Corunna, in Spain, from which place he traveled over the mountains to Paris, where he arrived in Feb, 1780. After remaining a short time in that city, having found the French court jealous of his commission to form a treaty of commerce with Great Britain, he repaired to Holland in Aug. 1780, the same year in which congress passed a vote of approbation of his conduct, instead of recalling him, as the French minister, count de Vergennes, had solicited them to do, on account of his refusal to communicate to him his instructions about the treaty of commerce, and his opposition to a claim set up by France, that, when congress called in the old continental money at forty for one, a discrimination ought to have been made, in favor of the French holders of that paper. The June previous to his journey to Amsterdam, Mr. A. was appointed in the room of Mr. Laurens to obtain loans in Holland, and, in December of the same year, was invested with full powers to negotiate a treaty of amity and commerce with that country. Mr. A. at first had to contend with great difficulties in Holland. He was opposed by the whole influence of the British government, as well as by the power of the prince of Orange, and even, strange as it may appear, by the intrigues of France herself, the professed friend and avowed ally of the United States. He found the people of Holland entirely unacquainted with the affairs of his country, and immediately began to impart to them information concerning that subject, using, for this purpose, principally, two newspapers, one called the Leyden Gazette, and the other Le Politique Hollandois, in which he wrote various political articles. He also published a series of twenty-six letters, in answer to a set of queries proposed to him by Mr. Kalkoen, an eminent jurist of Amsterdam, containing an account of the rise and progress of the dispute with Great Britain, and of the resources, spirit and prospects of the United States. These epistles, together with some essays written by Mr. Kalkoen, drawing a comparison between the struggles of the United States for their liberty, and those formerly made by the seven United Provinces, which eventuated in their independence, had a great effect in enlightening the people of Holland, and inspired them with sentiments highly favorable to the American cause. Shortly afterwards, Dec. 21, 1780, a rupture took place between England and Holland, occasioned by the accession of the latter to the armed neutrality, and the discovery of a negotiation between Mr. Lee, the American commissioner at Berlin, and Mr. Van Berckel the pensionary of Amsterdam, for a treaty of amity and commerce. Even at this early period, he had formed an opinion decidedly in favor of the establishment of a navy, and expressed it in almost all his letters home. In July, 1781, he was summoned to Paris for the purpose of consulting upon the offer of mediation made by the courts of Austria and Russia, and suggested an answer adopted by the French court, which put an end to the negotiation on that subject; the mediating powers refusing to acknowledge the independence of the United States without the consent of Great Britain.

Oct. 19, 1781, Mr. A., in opposition to the advice of the duke de la Vauguion, the French minister at the Hague, and on his own responsibility, communicated to their high mightinesses his letters of credence, presenting to their president also, at the same time, a memorial, dated April 19th, in which he justified the declaration of independence, and endeavored to convince the people of Holland that it was for their interest to form a connection with the United States and to give them support in their difficulties. As he had not yet been acknowledged by the States General as the minister of a sovereign and independent nation, the president could not receive the memorial in form, but he engaged to make a report of the substance of what had been communicated to him by Mr. A. In the August previous, Mr. A. had received instructions to propose a triple alliance between France, the United Provinces and the United States, to exist as long as hostilities were carried on by the latter against Great Britain, one of the indispensable conditions of which, on the part of Holland, was the recognition of American independence. The alliance never was effected, but the latter object Mr. Adams accomplished. Jan. 9, 1782, not having received a reply to his memorial, he waited upon the president, and demanded a categorical answer. The States General then took the subject immediately into consideration, and Mr. A. was acknowledged, April 19, as ambassador of the United States to their high mightinesses, and three days afterwards was received as such. Having obtained assurance that Great Britain would recognize the independence of the United States, he repaired, in Oct. 1782, to Paris, whither he had refused to go before such assurance was given, to commence the negotiation for peace, and there met Dr. Franklin, Mr. Jay and Mr. Laurens, who, as well as Mr. Jefferson, had been appointed his colleagues. Their instructions, a part of which was ‘to undertake nothing without the knowledge and concurrence of the ministers of France, and ultimately to govern themselves by their advice and opinion,’ placed them almost entirely under the control of the French court. They were greatly displeased at being thus shackled, and, after a short time, finding themselves in a very embarrassing situation, they boldly determined to disobey their instructions, and act for themselves and for their country, without consulting the ministers of a supposed treacherous ally. The definitive treaty of peace was ratified Jan. 14, 1783.

After serving on two or three commissions to form treaties of amity and commerce with foreign powers, Mr. Adams, in 1785, was appointed the first minister to London. It is related that, upon his introduction to the king, the latter, knowing his disgust at the intrigues of the French court, and wishing to compliment him, expressed his pleasure at seeing a minister who had no prejudices in favor of France, the natural enemy of his crown. The reply of Mr. Adams evinced his patriotism and honesty of character. ‘May it please your majesty,’ said he, ‘I have no prejudices but for my own country.’ In 1787, whilst in London, he published his Defense of the American Constitutions against the attacks which they had sustained, and in October of that year, by his own request, he was allowed to return to the United States. Congress, at the same time that they gave him such permission, passed a resolution of thanks to be presented to him for his able and faithful discharge of the various important commissions with which he had been entrusted. Immediately after his return, Mr. Adams was elected the first vice-president of the United States under the new constitution, and reëlected as such in 1793. He discharged the duties of his office until March 4, 1797, when he succeeded to the presidency, vacated by the resignation of General Washington. This great man’s confidence he possessed in an eminent degree, and was consulted by him as often as any member of the cabinet. As the two parties in the senate were nearly balanced, Mr. Adams, while acting, ex officio, as president of that body, had often to decide questions, by his casting vote, of the highest importance, and which had excited a great deal of party feeling. One instance of this occurred, when Mr. Clarke’s resolution prohibiting all intercourse with Great Britain on account of the capture of several American vessels by British ships, and other grievances, was brought before the senate, after having been adopted by the house of representatives, April 18, 1794. Upon this bill the senators were equally divided, and Mr. Adams decided against it, thinking that it would have no good effect upon the policy of England, would injure us as much as her, and perhaps occasion a war.

In 1797, he became, we have said, president of the United States. It will not be necessary to enter into a detail of the events of his administration, as they belong rather to the department of the historian than of the biographer. It will be sufficient to mention a few important circumstances. When he commenced the discharge of the duties of his office, he found the government embroiled in a dispute with France, and, in one of his earliest communications to congress, complained, in dignified and eloquent language, of a grievous insult offered by the government of that country to the ambassador of the United States. Wishing still to preserve peace, he despatched a commission consisting of three envoys, Messrs. Pinckney, Marshall and Gerry, to France. The French government treated them in the most contumelious manner. Such, however, was the violence of party spirit, and so large a portion of the American people entertained an enthusiastic admiration of France, that even the measures which Mr. Adams then took for sustaining the national dignity had no inconsiderable effect in diminishing his popularity.

Mr. Adams was the founder of the American navy. Before his administration, scarcely an American ship of war was to be seen upon the ocean; but, during this period, by his strenuous exertions, mainly, a very respectable naval force was created. His administration, however, was not of long continuance, having pleased neither of the two great parties which divided the country (the greatest praise, perhaps, that it could receive), his measures being too strong for the democrats and too weak for the federalists. In consequence of this, after his term of four years had expired, March 4, 1801, it was found that his adversary, Mr. Jefferson, had succeeded by a majority of one vote. After his retirement to his farm in Quincy, Mr. Adams occupied himself with agricultural pursuits, obtaining amusement from the literature and politics of the day. He was nominated as governor of Massachusetts, but declined being a candidate, wishing only for repose. During the disputes with England, which occurred while Mr. Jefferson was in office, Mr. Adams published a series of letters, in a Boston paper, supporting the policy of the administration. His published writings, besides those which we have already mentioned, are ‘Discourses on Davila,’ composed in 1790, while he was vice-president, and printed in June and July of that year, in the Gazette of the United States. In 1816, Mr. Adams was chosen member of the electoral college, which voted for the elevation of Mr. Monroe to the presidency; and, the following year, sustained the greatest affliction he had ever been called upon to endure, by the loss of his wife. On this occasion, he received a beautiful letter of condolence from Mr. Jefferson, between whom and himself their former friendship, interrupted for a time by the animosities of party, had been revived. In 1820, he was elected a member of the convention to revise the constitution of his state, and chosen its president. This honor he was constrained to decline, on account of his infirmities and great age, being then 85 years old; but he attended the convention as a member, and fulfilled the duty incumbent upon him as such. After that, his life glided away in uninterrupted tranquillity, until the 4th of July, 1826, when he breathed his last with the same hallowed sentiment on his lips, which on that glorious day, fifty years before, he had uttered on the floor of congress—​‘Independence forever.’ On the morning of the jubilee, he was roused by the ringing of the bells and the firing of cannon, and, on being asked by the servant who attended him, whether he knew what day it was, he replied, ‘O yes! it is the glorious 4th of July—​God bless it—​God bless you all.’ In the course of the day, he said, ‘It is a great and glorious day,’ and, just before he expired, exclaimed, ‘Jefferson survives.’ But Jefferson had already, at one o’clock, that same day, rendered his spirit into the hands of its Creator.

Thomas Jefferson, the third President of the United States of America, was born April 2, (old style,) 1743, at Shadwell, in Albemarle County, Virginia, and was the eldest of eight children. His father, though his education had been entirely neglected in early life, being a man of strong mind, acquired, by subsequent study, considerable information. He died when the subject of our sketch was about twelve years old, having previously given him every means of knowledge that could be procured, and left him a considerable estate. After going through a course of school instruction, young Jefferson entered the college of William and Mary where he remained for two years. He then commenced the study of law under the guidance of the celebrated George Wythe, by whom, in 1767, he was introduced to its practice, at the bar of the general court of the colony, at which he continued until the revolution. In 1769 he was elected a member of the provincial legislature from the county where he resided, and made a fruitless effort, in that body, for the emancipation of the slaves. By this time a spirit of opposition had been excited in the colonies to the arbitrary measures of the British government; and when the governor of Virginia dissolved the general assembly, in 1769, in consequence of the sympathy which was displayed by the majority of its members with the feelings which had been manifested in Massachusetts, they met, the next day, in the public room of the Raleigh tavern, formed themselves into a convention, drew up articles of association against the use of any merchandise imported from Great Britain, and signed and recommended them to the people. They then repaired to their respective counties, and were all reëlected, except those few who had declined assenting to their proceedings. In 1773 Mr. Jefferson associated himself with several of the boldest and most active of his companions in the house, (‘not thinking,’ as he says himself, ‘the old and leading members up to the point of forwardness and zeal which the times required,’) and with them formed the system of committees of correspondence, in a private room of the same Raleigh tavern. This system was adopted as the best instrument for communication between the different colonies, by which they might be brought to a mutual understanding, and a unity of action produced. This end was completely accomplished, as well as another object, that of exciting throughout the colonies a desire for a general congress. It was accordingly resolved that one should be held, and in Virginia a convention was assembled for the purpose of choosing delegates. Of this convention Mr. Jefferson was elected a member; but being suddenly taken ill on the road, as he was repairing to Williamsburg, its place of meeting, he sent on to its chairman, Peyton Randolph, a draft of instructions which he had prepared as proper to be given to the delegates who should be sent to congress. It was laid on the table for perusal; but, though approved by many, the sentiments contained in it were too bold to be adopted by the majority: ‘tamer sentiments,’ in his own words, ‘were preferred, and, I believe, wisely preferred; the leap I proposed being too long, as yet, for the mass of our citizens.’ The position that he maintained was, that the relation between Great Britain and the colonies was exactly the same as that between England and Scotland, after the accession of James, and until the union, and the same as her relations with Hanover, having the same executive chief, but no other political connection. In this doctrine, however, the only person who entirely concurred with him was George Wythe, the other patriots ‘stopping at the half-way house of John Dickinson, who admitted that England had a right to regulate our commerce, and to lay duties on it for the purposes of regulation, but not of raising revenue.’ Though the paper was not adopted, the convention, nevertheless, caused it to be printed in a pamphlet form, under the title of a Summary View of the Rights of British America. Having found its way to England, it was taken up by the opposition, and, with a few interpolations of Mr. Burke, passed through several editions. It procured for its author considerable reputation, and likewise the dangerous honor of having his name placed on a list of proscriptions, in a bill of attainder, which was commenced in one of the houses of parliament, but was speedily suppressed. June 21, 1775, Mr. Jefferson took his seat for the first time in congress, having been chosen to fill the place of Peyton Randolph, who had resigned. In this new capacity, he persevered in the decided tone which he had assumed, always maintaining that no accommodation should be made between the two countries, unless on the broadest and most liberal basis. After serving on several committees, he was at length appointed a member of that, whose report has linked the name of its author with the history of American independence. June 7, 1776, the delegates from Virginia, in compliance with the instructions of the convention, moved that congress should declare the United Colonies free and independent states. This gave rise to a warm and protracted debate; for as yet there were many who continued to cling to the hope of a peaceful adjustment. In the course of the discussion, it appearing that several colonies were not yet fully ripe for separation, it was deemed prudent to defer the final decision of the question for a short time; and, in the meanwhile, a committee was appointed to prepare a declaration of independence, consisting of John Adams, doctor Franklin, Roger Sherman, Robert R. Livingston, and Mr. Jefferson. The last named gentleman was requested to draw up the paper, which he did, and it was reported to the house, after receiving a few alterations from doctor Franklin and Mr. Adams. On the first of July, the day selected for deciding upon the original motion of the Virginia delegates, it was carried in the affirmative by a large majority, and two or three days afterwards by a unanimous vote. The declaration of independence was then brought before the house, by which, though generally approved, it was, in some respects, modified. Those passages, especially, which conveyed censure upon the people of England, were either greatly softened, or entirely omitted, as the idea was still entertained that the colonies possessed friends in England, whose good will it would be proper to cherish; and a clause reprobating the slave-trade was canceled, in complaisance to some of the Southern States, who were largely engaged in the traffic. The debates respecting the declaration occupied three days, on the last of which, the fourth of July, it was signed by every member present, except John Dickinson, who deemed a rupture with the mother country, at that moment, rash and premature. September 2, 1776, Mr. Jefferson retired from his seat in congress, and, on the 7th of October, took his place in the legislature of Virginia, of which he had been elected a member from his county. In this situation he was indefatigable in his labors to improve the imperfect constitution of the state, which had been recently and hastily adopted before a draft of one which he had formed on the purest principles of republicanism, had reached the convention, which was deliberating at Richmond. The chief service which he performed was as a member of a commission for revising the laws, consisting, besides himself, of Edmund Pendleton, George Wythe, George Mason, and Thomas Ludwell Lee, by whom no less than 126 bills were prepared, from which are derived all the most liberal features of the existing laws of the commonwealth. The share of Mr. Jefferson in this great task was prominent and laborious. June 1, 1779, he was chosen the successor of Mr. Henry in the office of governor of the state, and continued in it for two years, at the end of which period he resigned, ‘from a belief,’ as he says, ‘that, under the pressure of the invasion under which we were then laboring, the public would have more confidence in a military chief, and that, the military commander being invested with the civil power also, both might be wielded with more energy, promptitude, and effect, for the defense of the state.’ General Nelson was appointed in his stead. Two days after his retirement from the government, he narrowly escaped capture by the enemy, a troop of horse having been despatched to Monticello, where he was residing, for the purpose of making him prisoner. He was breakfasting, when a neighbor rode up at full speed with the intelligence that the troop was ascending a neighboring hill. He first sent off his family in a carriage, and, after a short delay for some indispensable arrangements, mounted his horse, and, taking a course through the woods, joined them at the house of a friend, a flight in which it would be difficult to discern any thing dishonorable, although it has been made the subject of sarcasm and reproach without end by the spirit of party. June 15, 1781, Mr. Jefferson was appointed minister plenipotentiary, in conjunction with others, to negotiate peace then expected to be effected, through the mediation of the empress of Russia; but he declined, for the same reason that had induced him, in 1776, to decline also the appointment of a commissioner, with doctor Franklin, to go to France in order to negotiate treaties of alliance and commerce with that government. On both occasions the state of his family was such that he could not leave it, and he ‘could not expose it to the dangers of the sea, and of capture by the British ships then covering the ocean.’ He saw, too, that ‘the laboring oar was really at home,’ especially at the time of his first appointment. But, in November, 1782, congress having received assurances that a general peace would be concluded in the winter and spring, renewed the offer which they had made the previous year; and this time it was accepted; but the preliminary articles being agreed upon before he left the country, he returned to Monticello, and was chosen (June 6, 1783) a member of congress. It was during the session at Annapolis, that, in consequence of Mr. Jefferson’s proposal, an executive committee was formed, called the committee of the states, consisting of a member from each state. Previously, executive and legislative functions were both imposed upon congress; and it was to obviate the bad effects of this junction, that Mr. Jefferson’s proposition was adopted. Success, however, did not attend the plan; the members composing the committee quarreled, and finding it impossible, on account of their altercations, to fulfill their duties, they abandoned their post, after a short period, and thus left the government without any visible head, during the adjournment of congress. May 7, 1784, congress, having resolved to appoint another minister, in addition to Mr. Adams and doctor Franklin, for negotiating treaties of commerce with foreign nations, selected Mr. Jefferson, who accordingly sailed from Boston, July 5, and arrived in Paris August 6. Doctor Franklin was already there, and Mr. Adams having, soon after, joined them, they entered upon the duties of their mission. They were not very successful, however, in forming the desired commercial treaties, and, after some reflection and experience, it was thought better not to urge them too strongly, but to leave such regulations to flow voluntarily from the amicable dispositions and the evident interests of the several nations. In June, 1785, Mr. Adams repaired to London, on being appointed minister plenipotentiary at the court of St. James, and, in July, doctor Franklin returned to America, and Mr. Jefferson was named his successor at Paris. In the February of 1786, he received a pressing letter from Mr. Adams, requesting him to proceed to London immediately, as symptoms of a better disposition towards America were beginning to appear in the British cabinet, than had been manifested since the treaty of peace. On this account he left Paris in the following March, and on his arrival in London, agreed with Mr. Adams on a very summary form of treaty, proposing ‘an exchange of citizenship for our citizens, our ships, and our productions generally, except as to office.’ At the usual presentation, however, to the king and queen, both Mr. Adams and himself were received in the most ungracious manner, and, after a few vague and ineffectual conferences, he returned to Paris. Here he remained, with the exception of a visit to Holland, to Piedmont and the south of France, until the autumn of 1789, zealously pursuing whatever was beneficial to his country. September 26 of that year he left Paris for Havre, and, crossing over to Cowes, embarked for the United States. November 23 he landed at Norfolk, Va., and, while on his way home, received a letter from President Washington, covering the appointment of secretary of state, under the new constitution, which was just commencing its operation. He soon afterwards received a second letter from the same quarter, giving him the option of returning to France, in his ministerial capacity, or of accepting the secretaryship, but conveying a strong intimation of desire that he would choose the latter office. This communication was produced by a letter from Mr. Jefferson to the president, in reply to the one first written, in which he had expressed a decided inclination to go back to the French metropolis. He then, however, consented to forego his preference, and, March 21, arrived in New York, where congress was in session, and immediately entered upon the duties of his post. It would be altogether inconsistent with our limits to give a minute account of the rest of Mr. Jefferson’s political life. This could not be done without writing the history of the United States for a certain period. We must therefore content ourselves with stating that he continued to fill the secretaryship of state, until the 31st of December, 1793, when he resigned. From that period until February, 1797, he lived in retirement. In this year he was elected vice-president of the United States, and, in 1801, was chosen president by a majority of one vote over his competitor, Mr. Adams. At the expiration of eight years he again retired to private life, from which he never afterwards emerged. The rest of his life was passed at Monticello, which was a continued scene of the blandest and most liberal hospitality. Such, indeed, was the extent to which calls upon it were made, by foreigners as well as Americans, that the closing year of his life was embittered by distressing pecuniary embarrassments. He was forced to ask permission of the Virginia legislature to sell his estate by lottery, which was granted. Shortly after Mr. Jefferson’s return to Monticello, it having been proposed to form a college in his neighborhood, he addressed a letter to the trustees, in which he sketched a plan for the establishment of a general system of education in Virginia. This appears to have led the way to an act of the legislature, in the year 1818, by which commissioners were appointed with authority to select a site, and form a plan for a university, on a large scale. Of these commissioners, Mr. Jefferson was unanimously chosen the chairman, and, Aug. 4, 1818, he framed a report, embracing the principles on which it was proposed the institution should be formed. The situation selected for it was at Charlottesville, a town at the foot of the mountain on which Mr. Jefferson resided. He lived to see the university—​the child of his old age—​in prosperous operation, and giving promise of extensive usefulness. He fulfilled the duties of its rector until a short period before his death, which occurred on the 4th of July, 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the declaration of independence, and within the hour in which he had signed it.

In person, Mr. Jefferson was tall and well formed; his countenance was bland and expressive; his conversation fluent, imaginative, various and eloquent. Few men equaled him in the faculty of pleasing in personal intercourse, and acquiring ascendancy in political connection. He was the acknowledged head of the republican party, from the period of its organization down to that of his retirement from public life. The unbounded praise and blame which he received as a politician, must be left for the judgment of the historian and posterity. In the four volumes of his posthumous works, edited by his grandson, Thomas Jefferson Randolph, there are abundant materials to guide the literary or historical critic in forming an estimate of his powers, acquirements, feelings and opinions. His name is one of the brightest in the revolutionary galaxy. Mr. Jefferson was a zealous cultivator of literature and science. As early as 1781, he was favorably known as an author, by his Notes on Virginia. He published, also, various essays on political and philosophical subjects, and a manual of Parliamentary Practice, for the use of the Senate of the United States. In the year 1800 the French national institute chose him one of their foreign members. The volumes of posthumous works, in addition to an auto-biography of the author to the year 1790, consist principally of letters from the year 1775 to the time of his death, and embrace a great variety of subjects.

Samuel Adams was one of the most remarkable men connected with the American revolution. He was descended from a family that had been among the early planters of New England, was born in Boston, September 27, 1722, was educated at Harvard college, and received its honors in 1740. When he took the degree of master, in 1743, he proposed the following question: ‘Whether it be lawful to resist the supreme magistrate, if the commonwealth cannot be otherwise preserved?’ He maintained the affirmative, and this collegiate exercise furnished a very significant index to his subsequent political career. On leaving the university, he engaged in the study of divinity, with the intention of becoming a clergyman, but did not pursue his design. From his earliest youth, his attention was drawn to political affairs, and he occupied himself, both in conversation and writing, with the political concerns of the day. He was opposed to governor Shirley, because he thought too much power was conferred upon him, and was the friend of his successor, Pownal, as the latter assumed the popular side. He became so entirely a public man, and discovered such a jealous, watchful and unyielding regard for popular rights, that he excited the general attention of the patriotic party, and they took the opportunity, in the year 1766, to place him in the legislature. From that period till the close of the revolutionary war, he was one of the most unwearied, efficient, and disinterested assertors of American freedom and independence. He grew conspicuous very soon after his admission into the house, of which he was chosen clerk, it being then the practice to take that officer from among the members. He obtained the same kind of influence, and exercised the same indefatigable activity in the affairs of the legislature, that he did in those of his town. He was upon every committee, had a hand in writing or revising every report, a share in the management of every political meeting, private or public, and a voice in all the measures that were proposed, to counteract the tyrannical plans of the administration. The people soon found him to be one of the steadiest of their supporters, and the government was convinced that he was one of the most inveterate of its opponents. When his character was known in England, and it was also understood that he was poor, the partisans of the ministry, who felt annoyed by the ‘disturbances in America,’ resorted to the usual practice, when the clamorous grow too troublesome, and proposed that he should be quieted by a participation in some of the good things they were enjoying. Governor Hutchinson, in answering the inquiry of a friend, why he was not silenced in this manner, wrote, with an expression of impatient vexation—​‘Such is the obstinacy and inflexible disposition of the man, that he never can be conciliated by any office or gift whatever.’

He continued in the legislature till 1774, when he was sent to the first congress of the old confederation. He was subsequently chosen secretary of Massachusetts in 1775, which office was performed by deputy during his absence. He was one of the signers of the declaration of 1776, which he labored most indefatigably and unhesitatingly to bring forward. He was an active member of the convention that formed the constitution of Massachusetts; and, after it went into effect, he was placed in the senate of the state, and for several years presided over that body. In 1789, he was elected lieutenant-governor, and held that office till 1794, when, after the death of Hancock, he was chosen governor, and was annually reëlected till 1797. He then retired from public life, and died at his house in Winter street, Boston, October 2d, 1803, in the 82d year of his age. He was one of that class who saw very early, that, ‘after all, we must fight;’ and, having come to that conclusion, there was no citizen more prepared for the extremity, or who would have been more reluctant to enter into any kind of compromise. After he had received warning at Lexington, in the night of the 18th of April, of the intended British expedition, as he proceeded to make his escape through the fields with some friends, soon after the dawn of day, he exclaimed, ‘This is a fine day!’ ‘Very pleasant, indeed,’ answered one of his companions, supposing he alluded to the beauty of the sky and atmosphere. ‘I mean,’ he replied, ‘this day is a glorious day for America!’ His situation at that moment was full of peril and uncertainty, but, throughout the contest, no damage to himself or to his country ever discouraged or depressed him. The very faults of his character tended, in some degree, to render his services more useful, by concentrating his exertions, and preventing their being weakened by indulgence or liberality towards different opinions. There was some tinge of bigotry and narrowness both in his religion and politics. He was a strict Calvinist; and, probably, no individual of his day had so much of the feelings of the ancient Puritans as he possessed. In politics, he was so jealous of delegated power, that he would not have given our constitutions inherent force enough for their own preservation. He attached an exclusive value to the habits and principles in which he had been educated, and wished to adjust wide concerns too closely after a particular model. One of his colleagues, who knew him well, and estimated him highly, described him, with good-natured exaggeration, in the following manner: ‘Samuel Adams would have the state of Massachusetts govern the Union, the town of Boston govern Massachusetts, and that he should govern the town of Boston, and then the whole would not be intentionally ill-governed.’ It was a sad error of judgment that caused him to undervalue, for a period at least, the services of Washington during the revolutionary war, and to think that his popularity, when president, might be dangerous. Still, these unfounded prejudices were honestly entertained, and sprang naturally from his disposition and doctrines. During the war, he was impatient for some more decisive action than it was in the power of the commander-in-chief, for a long time, to bring about; and when the new constitution went into operation, its leaning towards aristocracy, which was the absurd imputation of its enemies, and which his anti-federal bias led him more readily to believe, derived all its plausibility from the just, generous and universal confidence that was reposed in the chief magistrate. These things influenced his conduct in old age, when he was governor of Massachusetts, and while the extreme heat of political feelings would have made it impossible for a much less positive character to administer any public concerns, without one of the parties of that day being dissatisfied. But all these circumstances are to be disregarded, in making an estimate of his services. He, in fact, was born for the revolutionary epoch; he was trained and nurtured in it, and all his principles and views were deeply imbued with the dislikes and partialities which were created during that long struggle. He belonged to the revolution; all the power and peculiarity of his character were developed in that career; and his share in public life, under a subsequent state of things, must be considered as subordinate and unimportant. His private habits were simple, frugal and unostentatious. Notwithstanding the austerity of his character, his aspect was mild, dignified and gentlemanly. He was entirely superior to pecuniary considerations, and, after having been so many years in the public service, must have been buried at the public expense, if the afflicting death of an only son had not remedied this honorable poverty.

James Otis, a distinguished American patriot, was born February 5, 1724–5, at Great Marshes, in what is now called West Barnstable, Mass. His family was one of the most respectable in the colony, and of English origin. In June, 1739, he entered Cambridge college. The first two years of his collegiate course are said to have been given more to amusement than to study, his natural disposition being vivacious and ardent; but subsequently he was distinguished for his application and proficiency. After finishing his course at the university, he devoted eighteen months to the pursuit of various branches of literature, and then entered upon the study of the law in 1745, in the office of Mr. Gridley. Under that eminent lawyer he employed his legal novitiate, and then went to Plymouth, where he was first admitted to the bar. The two years, however, of his residence in that town, were more occupied in study than in practice, so that, when he removed to Boston, in 1750, he was well qualified to assume a high rank in his profession. This he quickly did: his practice became very extensive. On one occasion, he went, in the middle of the winter, to Halifax, in consequence of urgent solicitation, to defend three men accused of piracy, and procured their acquittal. Although his professional engagements were so numerous, he cultivated his taste for literature, and, in 1760, published a treatise, entitled the Rudiments of Latin Prosody, with a Dissertation on Letters and the Principles of Harmony, in poetic and prosaic Composition, collected from the best Writers. He also composed a similar work on Greek prosody, which remained in manuscript, and perished with all his papers. It was never printed, as he said, because ‘there were no Greek types in the country, or, if there were, no printer knew how to set them.’

In 1755, he married Miss Ruth Cunningham, the daughter of a respectable merchant, who brought him a dowry at that time considered very large. Amid all the embarrassments which his affairs subsequently experienced, in consequence of his entire devotion to the concerns of the public, he sacredly preserved the fortune which he received with his wife, to whom it returned after his death. The public career of Mr. Otis dates from the period when he made his famous speech against the ‘writs of assistance,’ for which an application had been made, by the officers of the customs, to the superior court of Massachusetts, in pursuance of an order in council, sent from England, to enable them to carry into effect the acts of parliament regulating the trade of the colonies. When that order arrived, Otis was advocate-general, and was, consequently, requested to lend his professional assistance in the matter; but, deeming the writs to be illegal and tyrannical, he refused, and resigned his station. He was then applied to, to argue against the writs, which he immediately undertook to do, in conjunction with Mr. Thacher, and in opposition to his former preceptor, Mr. Gridley, the attorney-general. Of the discourse which he pronounced, president Adams the elder says, ‘Otis was a flame of fire; with a promptitude of classical allusions, a depth of research, a rapid summary of historical events and dates, a profusion of legal authorities, a prophetic glance of his eyes into futurity, and a rapid torrent of impetuous eloquence, he hurried away all before him. American independence was then and there born. Every man, of an immense crowded audience, appeared to me to go away as I did, ready to take arms against writs of assistance.’ The court adjourned for consideration, and, at the close of the term, the chief-justice, Hutchinson, delivered the opinion: ‘The court has considered the subject of writs of assistance, and can see no foundation for such a writ; but, as the practice in England is not known, it has been thought best to continue the question to the next term, that, in the mean time, opportunity may be given to know the result.’ When the next term came, however, nothing was said about the writs; and though it was generally understood that they were clandestinely granted by the court, and that the custom-house officers had them in their pockets, yet it is said that they were never produced or executed. Otis had now fully committed himself against the designs of the British ministry, and thenceforward bent all his energies to maintain the freedom of his country. At the next election of members of the legislature, in May, 1761, he was chosen, almost unanimously, a representative from Boston, and soon became the leader, in the house, of the popular party. For the detail of his course, during the period in which he was a representative, we must refer our readers to the biography of him by Mr. Tudor. In 1765, Mr. Otis was chosen, by the Massachusetts legislature, one of the members of a committee appointed to meet the committees of the legislatures of other colonies at New York, in consequence of the passage of the stamp-act by parliament. They met in convention October 19, in the same year, and named three committees to prepare addresses to the king, lords and commons. On the last Mr. Otis was placed. In this convention, Mr. Otis made the acquaintance of many distinguished men, from different colonies, and subsequently maintained, with several of them, a friendship and correspondence.

In May, 1767, after the repeal of the stamp-act, Mr. Otis was elected speaker of the house of representatives; but he was negatived by the governor, who entertained a peculiar animosity towards him, from his indefatigable endeavors to defeat every plan of encroachment. In the summer of 1769, the vehement temper of Mr. Otis was so much wrought upon by the calumnies which he discovered that the commissioners of the customs in Boston had transmitted to England concerning him, by which, indeed, they sought to have him tried for treason, that he inserted an advertisement in the Boston Gazette, denouncing them in severe terms. The next evening he happened to go to the British coffee-house, where one of the commissioners, a Mr. Robinson, was sitting with a number of officers of the army, navy and revenue. As soon as he entered, an altercation arose, which was quickly terminated by a blow from Robinson’s cane. Otis immediately returned it with a weapon of the same kind, when the lights were extinguished, and he was obliged to defend himself, single-handed, against numbers. After some time the combatants were separated. Robinson retreated by a back passage, and Otis was led home, wounded and bleeding. He received a deep cut on his head; and to this has been partly attributed the derangement under which he afterwards labored. Soon after this transaction, he instituted an action against Robinson, and obtained an award of £2,000 sterling damages, which, however, he gave up on receiving a written apology, in which the defendant acknowledged his fault and begged his pardon.

In 1770, he retired into the country on account of his health. At the election in 1771, he was again chosen a representative; but this was the last year that he took a part in public concerns, except occasionally to appear at a town-meeting. He withdrew, also, almost entirely, from the practice of his profession. His mind became seriously affected, and continued so, with some lucid intervals, until his death. Sometimes he was in a frenzied state; at others, he exhibited rather the eccentricity of a humorist than absolute derangement. The two last years of his life were passed at Andover. After he had been there for some time, he was supposed to be completely restored, and returned to Boston. He resumed his professional engagements, and pleaded a cause in the court of common pleas, in which he displayed considerable power, but less than was his wont. The interval of reason was not, however, of long duration, and he was induced to go back to Andover. Six weeks after his return, he was killed by a stroke of lightning, in the sixtieth year of his age, May 23, 1783.

The chief defect of Mr. Otis’ character was his irascibility. His merits are well summed up in the following extract from the work of Mr. Tudor, to which we have before alluded:—​‘In fine, he was a man of powerful genius and ardent temper, with wit and humor that never failed; as an orator, he was bold, argumentative, impetuous and commanding, with an eloquence that made his own excitement irresistibly contagious: as a lawyer, his knowledge and ability placed him at the head of his profession; as a scholar, he was rich in acquisition, and governed by a classic taste; as a statesman and civilian, he was sound and just in his views; as a patriot, he resisted all allurements that might weaken the cause of that country to which he devoted his life, and for which he sacrificed it.’ It is greatly to be regretted that, during his derangement, he destroyed all his papers; sufficient evidence, however, of his power as a writer, remains in the various state papers of which he was the author whilst a member of the legislature, though they were subjected to the revising pen of Samuel Adams, whose patient temper permitted him to undergo the labor of correcting and polishing, which the ardor of the other disdained.

Fisher Ames, one of the most eloquent of American statesman and writers, was born at Dedham, in Massachusetts, April 9th, 1758, of very respectable parents. Soon after the completion of his 12th year, he was admitted to Harvard college, with the reputation of uncommon talents and attainments. Diligence, regularity and success marked his collegiate course of four years. After receiving his degree, in 1774, the narrow circumstances of his widowed mother compelled him to postpone, for several years, the accomplishment of his original purpose of studying the law. In the interval, he acted as an assistant teacher in a public school, and continued to cultivate classical literature, to the signal improvement of his taste and fancy. At length, in 1781, he commenced the practice of the law, with the stock of knowledge which he had acquired in the office of a member of the profession, in Boston. Opportunity soon occurred for the display of his superior qualifications, both as a speaker and essay writer. The fame which followed his early efforts conduced to place him in the Massachusetts convention for ratifying the constitution, in 1788. From this sphere, in which he made a deep impression by some of his speeches, particularly that on biennial elections, he passed to the house of representatives in the state legislature. Here, he soon became so eminent as an orator and man of business, that the voters of the Suffolk district elected him their first representative in the congress of the U. States. He had not been long in that assembly before his friends and admirers were satisfied that they had not overrated his abilities. He won there the palm of eloquence, besides proving himself equal to the discussion of the deepest subjects of politics and finance, and the execution of the most arduous committee labors. He remained in congress during eight years, the whole of Washington’s administration, which he constantly and zealously defended. ‘His speech on the British treaty,’ says his distinguished biographer, doctor Kirkland, ‘was the era of his political life. For many months, he had been sinking under weakness, and, though he had attended the long and interesting debate on the question which involved the constitution and the peace of the U. States, it was feared he would be unable to speak. But when the time came for taking a vote so big with consequences, his emotions would not suffer him to be silent. His appearance, his situation, the magnitude of his subject, the force and the pathos of his eloquence, gave this speech an extraordinary power over the feelings of the dignified and numerous assembly who heard it. When he had finished, a member in opposition moved to postpone the decision of the question, that they might not vote under the influence of a sensibility which their calm judgment might condemn.’ On the retirement of Washington, Mr. A. returned to his residence at Deadham, where he occupied himself with the management of his farm and the practice of the law. The latter he relinquished in a few years, owing to the decline of his health; but he felt too deep an interest in the welfare of his country to withdraw his mind and pen from politics. He published a considerable number of essays, relating chiefly on the contest between Great Britain and revolutionary France, as it might affect American liberty and prosperity. No writer evinced more ardor for the success of Britain, or more horror of the character and tendencies of the French despotism. In 1804, Mr. A. was chosen president of Harvard college,—​an honor which he declined. When Washington died, Mr. A., then a member of council of the commonwealth, was appointed to pronounce his funeral eulogy before the legislature of Massachusetts. The injury which his constitution sustained in 1795 was never fully repaired. From that period his health declined, until, at length, after an extreme debility for two years, death ended his sufferings. He expired July 4th, 1808; and, when the intelligence of this event was received, a public meeting of citizens was held, in order to testify the general respect for his character. His remains were carried to Boston, where they were interred with honors such as had not been before paid to those of any private citizen. In 1809, his works were issued in a large octavo volume, with prefatory notices of his life and character, from the pen of the reverend doctor Kirkland, president of Harvard college, who had enjoyed his personal friendship and intimacy. The volume is fraught with profound remarks, various historical lore, and eloquent declamation. Although the political interest of most of the topics is gone, there remains much to captivate and reward attention in the richness of fancy, warmth of feeling, beauty of language, and felicity of copious illustration, which distinguish almost every page. Fisher Ames left seven children and a wife, to whom he was tenderly attached. In person, he exceeded a little the middle stature, was well-proportioned and perfectly erect. His features and countenance were fine, and his manners easy and affable. Of his delivery as an orator, his biographer states, that he did not systematically study the exterior graces of speaking, but his attitude was firm, his gesticulation natural and forcible, his voice clear and varied, and his whole manner earnest and expressive. According to the same authority, all the other efforts of his mind were probably surpassed by his powers of conversation.

Colonel Aaron Burr was born on the 6th of February 1756, at Newark, in New Jersey. His father, the Rev. Aaron Burr, was the first president of the College of New Jersey, which was opened at Newark, but was subsequently removed to Princeton; his mother was the daughter of the Rev. Jonathan Edwards, so distinguished as a metaphysician and divine, and who succeeded his son-in-law in the presidency of the College. The former died in 1757, and the latter in the following year, leaving only two children, Aaron and a daughter, afterwards the wife of Judge Tappan Reeve, of Conneticut. Colonel Burr inherited from his father a considerable property. He was graduated at Princeton when only 16 years old. When in his 20th year he joined the American army, after the battle of Bunker’s Hill, in the neighborhood of Boston. Here he volunteered to accompany General Arnold in the expedition against Quebec. This officer led the detachment under his command into Canada, by way of the Kennebec, and through the wilderness between the St. Lawrence and the settlements in the regions now constituting the state of Maine. On his arrival at Chaudière pond, Burr was sent with a communication to General Montgomery, who was advancing from the state of New York with the forces under his immediate orders; and who was so much pleased with the young messenger as to appoint him to be one of his aids-de-camp. In this capacity Burr was present at the battle of Quebec, and near the person of the General when he was killed. On his return from Canada, in May, 1776, he proceeded to the city of New York, on being ‘notified verbally, that it would be agreeable to the commander-in-chief’ that he should do so. But it would seem that Colonel (then already Major) Burr, for some reason or other, failed to make a favorable impression personally on General Washington. He, in consequence, became, in his turn, dissatisfied, and even inclined to quit the service; when through the instrumentality of Governor Hancock, he obtained the appointment of aid-de-camp to General Putnam,—​an appointment which he gladly accepted.

In July 1777, he was promoted to the rank of a Lieutenant Colonel; but was obliged, in March 1779, to resign his commission in the army, on account of the impaired state of his health. He had, on various occasions, during the war, highly distinguished himself by his bravery, vigilance, and skill, and had been repeatedly selected by Washington to execute his commands on important emergencies, although that great man and admirable judge of character, had formed but a low estimate of his principles and morals. On retiring from the army, and after an interval of repose required for the restoration of his health, Colonel Burr applied himself to the study of the law, as well to provide himself with an adequate field for distinction among his countrymen in his future life, as to repair the pecuniary losses which he had incurred, during the period of his military service, by the liberality and extravagance of his expenditure. He commenced the practice of his profession at Albany, in the month of April, 1782, and married in July following. As soon as the British troops had evacuated the city of New York, at the conclusion of the war, in November, 1783, he removed thither, where he speedily acquired an extensive and lucrative practice. He was a member of the Legislature during the sessions of 1784 and 1785; but as that body met in the city where he resided, and as he took part in its deliberations only on a few of the most important questions which came before it for its decision, his professional avocations suffered scarcely any interruption; and it was only after the existing constitution of the Union went into operation that he became prominent as a party politician. In 1789, he was appointed attorney-general of the state. In January, 1791, he was elected a senator of the United States; and he took his seat in that body in the autumn of that year. He was appointed, in October, 1792, to be a judge of the supreme court of the state of New York, but declined the appointment; preferring to hold his position in the United States Senate, as one of the most prominent leaders of the party (the democratic) to which he belonged. At the presidential election which took place in the autumn of 1800, an equal number of votes were found to have been given for the two highest candidates on the list, Mr. Jefferson and Colonel Burr; and it, in consequence, devolved on the members of the House of Representatives, voting by states, to decide which of these gentlemen should hold the office of president, and which of them that of vice-president. Notwithstanding that, prior to the choice of electors, Mr. Jefferson was alone intended, by the party that nominated him, as their candidate for the presidency, it was not until after 36 ballotings that the contest was decided in his favor. From this time forth, as from the circumstances of the case might naturally have been expected, Colonel Burr lost the confidence of the majority of his former political friends; and the attempts which he made to ingratiate himself with those to whom he had been heretofore opposed were only partially successful. In 1804, he was a candidate for the office of governor of New York, but failed of being elected. He was supported by a portion of both the political parties; by a minority of the democrats, and a majority of the federalists. Of the latter party, General Hamilton had been one of those who most earnestly opposed him; and a duel took place, on the 11th of July, between these distinguished men, growing out of their rivalship and adverse relation to each other. Burr was the challenger, conceiving himself to have been injuriously spoken of at the period of the preceding election by Hamilton, who was mortally wounded in the encounter. Colonel Burr continued at his post in the Senate of the United States till within two days of the expiration of his term of service as vice-president; the last public duty of any importance performed by him having been to preside at the trial of Judge Chase, who was impeached by the House of Representatives for ‘high crimes and misdemeanors.’ It was not very long afterwards that he formed the scheme of his singular, and even yet not satisfactorily explained, western expedition, which led to his arrest, and trials at Richmond, in Virginia, in August and September, 1807, for treason first, and then for a misdemeanor. He was acquitted or both these charges. In June, 1808, he embarked from New York for England; induced to take this step, in a certain degree, by the personal and political prejudices that had been excited against him, by the death of Hamilton, and by the equivocal course he had pursued in the western country, but, in a degree also, by an expectation of being able to obtain encouragement and assistance from some of the European governments, for attempting the emancipation of the Spanish American colonies from the oppressive domination of the mother country,—​a project which he had long contemplated. His efforts in this respect were, however, entirely unsuccessful; and he returned to the United States in June, 1812, after an absence abroad of 4 years. He opened an office in the city of New York, and practiced the law there, but without attracting the attention of the public to any considerable extent. In 1816, General Toledo, then in the city of New York, and whose object in visiting the United States was ‘not only to obtain the means of continuing the war (of Mexico against Spain), but to seek the person best capable of employing them,’ invited him to ‘assume the management’ of the ‘political and military affairs’ of the Mexican republic. Colonel Burr declined this invitation. But again, in 1819, he received a commission from the government of Venezuela, authorizing him to raise troops for the sea and land service of that republic, and pledging itself to pay all debts of his contracting in the exercise of the authority granted him. Colonel Burr died on the 14th of September, 1836, in the 81st year of his age, on Staten Island, where he had passed the summer for the benefit of the pure air. Agreeably to his own request, his body was conveyed to Princeton, to be there buried.

Alexander Hamilton was born in 1757, in the island of Nevis. His father was a native of England, and his mother of the island. At the age of 16, he became a student of Columbia college, his mother having emigrated to New York. He had not been in that institution more than a year, before he gave a brilliant manifestation of the powers of his mind in the discussion concerning the rights of the colonies. In support of these he published several essays, which were marked by such vigor and maturity of style, strength of argument, and wisdom and compass of views, that Mr. Jay, at that time in the meridian of life, was supposed, at first, to be the author. When it had become necessary to unsheath the sword, the ardent spirit of young Hamilton would no longer allow him to remain in academic retirement; and before the age of 19, he entered the American army, with the rank of captain of artillery. In this capacity, he soon attracted the attention of the commander-in-chief, who appointed him his aid-de-camp, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. This occurred in 1777, when he was not more than 20 years of age. From this time, he continued the inseparable companion of Washington during the war, and was always consulted by him, and frequently by other eminent public functionaries, on the most important occasions. He acted as his first aid-de-camp at the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth, and, at the siege of Yorktown, he led, at his own request, the detachment that carried by assault one of the enemy’s outworks, Oct. 14, 1781. In this affair, he displayed the most brilliant valor. After the war, colonel Hamilton then about 24, commenced the study of the law, as he had at that time a wife and family depending upon him for support. He was soon admitted to the bar. In 1782, he was chosen a member of congress from the state of New York, where he quickly acquired the greatest influence and distinction, and was always a member and sometimes chairman of those committees to which were confided such subjects as were deemed of vital interest to the nation. The reports which he prepared are remarkable for the correctness and power which characterize every effort of his pen. At the end of the session, he returned to the practice of his profession in the city of New York, and became eminent at the bar. In 1786, he was chosen a member of the legislature of his state, and was mainly instrumental in preventing a serious collision between Vermont and New York, in consequence of a dispute concerning territorial jurisdiction. He was elected a delegate of New York to the convention which was to meet at Philadelphia, in order to form a constitution for the United States. As the doors of the convention were closed during its sittings, and its records have never been given to the world, it is not possible to state the precise part which he acted in that body. It is well ascertained, however, that the country is, at least, as much indebted to him for the excellencies of the constitution, as to any other member of the illustrious assembly. Hamilton and Madison were the chief oracles and artificers. After the adoption of the constitution by the convention, he associated himself with Mr. Madison and Mr. Jay, for the purpose of disposing the public to receive it with favor. The essays which they wrote with that design, addressed to the people of New York, during the years 1787 and 1788, are well known under the name of the Federalist, and contributed powerfully to produce the effect for which they were composed. The larger portion of them was written by Hamilton. In 1788, he was a member of the state convention of New York, which met to deliberate on the adoption of the federal constitution, and it was chiefly in consequence of his efforts that it was accepted. On the organization of the federal government, in 1789, he was appointed to the office of secretary of the treasury. This was a situation which required the exercise of all the great powers of his mind; for the public credit was, at that time, in the lowest state of depression; and, as no statistical account of the country had ever been attempted, its fiscal resources were wholly unknown. But before Hamilton retired from the post, which he did after filling it during somewhat more than five years, he had raised the public credit to a height altogether unprecedented in the history of the country, and, by the admirable system of finance which he established, had acquired the reputation of one of the greatest financiers of the age. His official reports to congress are considered as masterpieces, the principles which he advocated in them still continue to exercise a great influence in the revenue department of the American government. Whilst secretary of the treasury, he was, ex officio, one of the cabinet counselors of president Washington; and such was the confidence reposed by that great man in his integrity and ability, that he rarely ventured upon any executive act of moment without his concurrence. He was one of the principal advisers of the proclamation of neutrality issued by Washington in 1793, in consequence of an attempt made by the minister of France to cause the United States to take part with his country in the war then waging between it and England. This measure he defended in a series of essays, under the signature of Pacificus, which were successful in giving it popularity. In 1795, Hamilton resigned his office, and retired to private life, in order to be better able to support a numerous family by the practice of his profession. In 1798, however, when an invasion was apprehended from the French, and a provisional army had been called into the field, his public services were again required. President Adams had offered the chief command of the provisional army to Washington, who consented to accept it on condition that Hamilton should be chosen second in command, with the title of inspector-general. This was accordingly done; and, in a short time, he succeeded in bringing the organization and discipline of the army to a high degree of excellence. On the death of Washington, in 1799, he succeeded, of course, to the chief command. The title of lieutenant-general, however, to which he was then entitled, was, from some unexplained cause, never conferred on him. When the army was disbanded, after the cessation of hostilities between the United States and France, general Hamilton returned again to the bar, and continued to practice, with increased reputation and success, until 1804. In June of that year, he received a note from colonel Burr,—​between whom and himself a political had become a personal enmity,—​in which he was required, in offensive language, to acknowledge or disavow certain expressions derogatory to the latter. The tone of the note was such as to cause him to refuse to do either, and a challenge was the consequence. July 11, the parties met at Hoboken, and on the first fire Hamilton fell mortally wounded, on the same spot where, a short time previously, his eldest son had been killed in a duel. He lingered until the afternoon of the following day, when he expired. The sensation which this occurrence produced throughout the United States, had never been exceeded on this continent. Men of all political parties felt that the nation was deprived of its greatest ornament. His transcendent abilities were universally acknowledged; every citizen was ready to express confidence in his spirit of honor and his capacity for public service. Of all the coadjutors and advisers of Washington, Hamilton was doubtless the one in whose judgment and sagacity he reposed the greatest confidence, whether in the military or civil career; and, of all the American statesmen, he displayed the most comprehensive understanding and the most varied ability, whether applied to subjects practical or speculative. A collection of his works was issued in New York, in three octavo volumes, some years after his death. His style is nervous, lucid and elevated; he excels in reasoning, founded on general principles and historical experience. General Hamilton was regarded as the head of the federalists in the party divisions of the American republic. He was accused of having preferred, in the convention that framed the federal constitution, a government more akin to the monarchical; he weakened the federal party by denouncing president Adams, whose administration he disapproved, and whose fitness for office he questioned. But his general course, and his confidential correspondence, show that he earnestly desired to preserve the constitution, when it was adopted, and that his motives were patriotic in his proceedings towards Mr. Adams. Certain it is that no man labored more faithfully, skillfully and efficiently, in organizing and putting into operation the federal government.

Patrick Henry, the second son of John and Sarah Henry, and one of nine children, was born May 29, 1736, in the county of Hanover and colony of Virginia. Until ten years of age, Patrick Henry was sent to a school in the neighborhood, where he learned to read and write, and made some small progress in arithmetic. He was then taken home, and, under the direction of his father, who had opened a grammar school in his own house, he acquired a superficial knowledge of the Latin language. At the same time, he made a considerable proficiency in the mathematics, the only branch of education for which, it seems, he discovered, in his youth, the slightest predilection. He was passionately addicted to the sports of the field, and could not brook the confinement and toil which education required. His father, unable to sustain the expense of his large and increasing family, found it necessary to qualify his sons, at a very early age, to support themselves. With this view, Patrick was placed, at the age of fifteen, behind the counter of a trader in the country. In the next year, his father purchased a small adventure of goods for his two sons, William and Patrick, and ‘set them up in trade.’ William’s habits of idleness were such, that the chief management of their concerns devolved upon the younger brother, and that management was most wretched. One year put an end to this experiment, and Patrick was engaged, for the two or three following years, in settling the accounts of the firm as well as he could. At the early age of eighteen, he married a Miss Shelton, the daughter of a respectable farmer in the neighborhood; and, by the joint assistance of their parents, the young couple were settled on a small farm, where, with one or two slaves, Mr. Henry had to dig the earth for subsistence. His want of agricultural skill, and his unconquerable aversion to every species of systematic labor, caused him, after a trial of two years, to abandon this pursuit. His next step seems to have been dictated by absolute despair; for, selling off his little possessions at a sacrifice for cash, he entered a second time into the unauspicious business of merchandise. But the same want of method, the same facility of temper, soon became apparent. He resumed his violin, his flute, his books, his inspection of human nature, and not unfrequently shut up his shop to indulge himself in the favorite sports of his youth. His reading, however, began to assume a more serious character. He studied geography, read the charters and history of the colony, and became fond of historical works generally, particularly those of Greece and Rome, and, from the tenacity of his memory and the strength of his judgment, soon made himself master of their contents. Livy was his favorite; and, having procured a translation, he made it a rule to read it through, once, at least, in every year, during the earlier part of his life. The second mercantile experiment in a few years left him a bankrupt; every remnant of his property was gone, and his friends were unable to assist him any further. As a last effort, he determined to make trial of the law. No one expected him to succeed; his unfortunate habits were by no means suited to so laborious a profession, and the situation of his affairs forbade an extensive course of reading. After a six weeks’ preparation, he obtained a license to practice the law, being at this time of the age of four and twenty. He was, at the time of his admission to practice, not only unable to draw a declaration or a plea, but incapable, it is said, of the most common and simple business of his profession, even the mode of ordering a suit, giving a notice, or making a motion in court. For three years, the wants and distresses of his family were extreme. The profits of his practice could not have supplied them even with the necessaries of life; and he seems to have spent the greatest part of his time, both during his study of the law and the practice of the first two or three years, with his father-in-law, Mr. Shelton, who then kept a tavern at Hanover court-house. Whenever Mr. Shelton was from home, Mr. Henry supplied his place in the tavern. The controversy between the clergy on the one hand, and the legislature and people of the colony on the other, touching the stipend claimed by the former, which had created a great excitement in Virginia, was the occasion on which his genius first broke forth. The display which he made in the parsons’ cause, as it was popularly called, placed him, at once, at the head of his profession, in that quarter of the colony in which he practiced. In the year 1764, he removed to the county of Louisa, and resided at a place called the Roundabout. In the autumn of the same year, a contest having occurred, in the house of burgesses, in the case of Mr. James Littlepage, the returned member of the county of Hanover, who was charged with bribery and corruption, the parties were heard by counsel, before the committee of privileges and elections, and Henry was on this occasion employed by Mr. Dandridge, the rival candidate. Henry distinguished himself by a brilliant display on the subject of the rights of suffrage. Such a burst of eloquence, from a man so very plain and humble in his appearance, struck the committee with amazement; a deep silence took place during the speech, and not a sound but from his lips was to be heard in the room.

In 1765, he was elected member of the house of burgesses, with express reference to an opposition to the British stamp-act. After having waited in vain for some step to be taken by another, and when the session was within three days of its expected close, he introduced his celebrated resolutions on the stamp-act. After his death, there was found among his papers one sealed, and thus indorsed:—​‘Enclosed are the resolutions of the Virginia assembly, in 1765, concerning the stamp-act. Let my executors open this paper.’ Within was found a copy of the resolutions in his own hand-writing. On the back of the paper containing the resolutions, is the following indorsement, also in his hand-writing:—​‘The within resolutions passed the house of burgesses in May, 1765. They formed the first opposition to the stamp-act, and the scheme of taxing America by the British parliament. All the colonies, either through fear, or want of opportunity to form an opposition, or from influence of some kind or other, had remained silent. I had been for the first time elected a burgess a few days before, was young, inexperienced, unacquainted with the forms of the house, and the members that composed it. Finding the men of weight averse to opposition, and the commencement of the tax at hand, and that no person was likely to step forth, I determined to venture, and alone, unadvised, and unassisted, on a blank leaf of an old law book, wrote the within. Upon offering them to the house, violent debates ensued. Many threats were uttered, and much abuse cast on me, by the party for submission. After a long and warm contest, the resolutions passed by a very small majority, perhaps of one or two only. The alarm spread throughout America with astonishing quickness, and the ministerial party were overwhelmed. The great point of resistance to British taxation was universally established in the colonies. This brought on the war, which finally separated the two countries, and gave independence to ours. Whether this will prove a blessing or a curse, will depend upon the use our people make of the blessings which a gracious God hath bestowed on us. If they are wise, they will be great and happy. If they are of a contrary character, they will be miserable. Righteousness alone can exalt them as a nation. Reader, whoever thou art, remember this; and in thy sphere, practice virtue thyself, and encourage it in others.

P. Henry.

It was in the midst of the debate above-mentioned, that he exclaimed, ‘Cæsar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third—​‘Treason!’ cried the speaker—​‘Treason, treason!’ echoed from every part of the house. Henry faltered not for an instant; but taking a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker an eye of fire, he finished his sentence with the firmest emphasis—​‘may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it.’ From this period, Mr. Henry became the idol of the people of Virginia; nor was his name confined to his native state. His influence was felt throughout the continent, and he was every where regarded as one of the great champions of colonial liberty. In the year 1769, he was admitted to the bar of the general court. He wanted that learning, whose place no genius can supply to the lawyer; and he wanted those habits of steady and persevering application, without which that learning is not to be acquired. But on questions before a jury, his knowledge of human nature, and the rapidity as well as justness of his inferences, from the flitting expressions of the countenance, as to what was passing in the hearts of his hearers, availed him fully. The defense of criminal cases was his great professional forte. The house of burgesses of Virginia, which had led the opposition to the stamp-act, kept their high ground during the whole of the ensuing contest.

Mr. Henry having removed again from Louisa to his native county, in the year 1767 or 1768, continued a member of that house till the close of the revolution; and there could be no want of boldness in any body of which he was a member. He was one of the standing committee of correspondence and inquiry concerning the pretensions of the British, which was appointed by the house, March 12, 1773. He was also of the number of delegates sent by Virginia to the first general congress of the colonies, which assembled in Philadelphia, September 4, 1774. When the congress rose, he returned home, and entered the legislature of Virginia again, determined upon prosecuting the work of national independence. In this career, he became, by his zeal and efficiency, obnoxious to the royal governor, and to all who were disposed to maintain the royal cause, or who dreaded the resort to force.

When intelligence was received of the battles of Lexington and Concord in Massachusetts, Henry summoned volunteers to meet him, in order to compel the governor of Virginia (lord Dunmore) to restore a quantity of powder which the latter had caused to be taken from the public magazine at Williamsburg. This was the first military movement in Virginia. The governor issued a proclamation, calling upon the people to resist it; but Henry, at the head of a considerable corps, obliged his lordship to consent to the payment of a pecuniary compensation for the powder withdrawn. The volunteers returned in triumph to their homes. As soon, however, as all seemed again quiet, the governor sent forth, though without any effect, a violent manifesto against ‘a certain Patrick Henry, and a number of deluded followers,’ etc.

Henry took a leading party in all the subsequent measures which ended in the prostration of the royal authority, and the erection of an independent government in Virginia. The colonial convention of 1775 elected him the colonel of the first regiment, and the commander of ‘all the forces raised and to be raised for the defense of the colony.’ He soon resigned this command, from a belief that he could serve the cause of his country more effectually in the public councils than in the field. Immediately upon his resignation he was elected a delegate to the convention, and, not long after, the first governor of the commonwealth—​a post in which he proved signally serviceable, by sustaining the public spirit during the revolutionary struggle, providing recruits and supplies for the continental army, and crushing the intrigues of the tories who infested Virginia. His administration was prolonged by reëlections until 1779, when he retired from the office, being no longer eligible without intermission, according to the constitution. As a member of the legislature, to which he at once returned, he continued to serve the great cause until the end of the war, when he was again elected governor of Virginia. The state of his affairs obliged him to resign the station in the autumn of 1786. In December of that year, he was appointed by the legislature one of the deputies to the convention, held at Philadelphia, for the purpose of revising the federal constitution. This appointment he declined, it being necessary for him to resume the practice of the law, in order to make some provision for his family. During the six following years, he regularly attended the courts, and his great reputation obtained for him lucrative business. His next appearance in political life was as a member of the convention, which was to decide the fate of the federal constitution in Virginia. Some of the features of that instrument inspired him with fears for the liberties of the country. All his great powers of eloquence and his personal influence were exerted to procure the rejection of it. The amendments proposed by Virginia originated in the objections so vehemently and plausibly urged by him and his associates. He became, nevertheless, a convert to the excellence of the system, and an earnest federalist, in the twofold acceptation of the term. In the spring of 1791, he bade a final adieu to public life, and, in 1794, to the bar, at which he had gained some brilliant triumphs, which are commemorated by his distinguished biographer William Wirt (Life of P. Henry, Philadelphia, 1817). In 1796, the post of governor of the state was once more tendered to him and refused. In the following year, his health began to decline, and continued to sink gradually until the moment of his death, which took place on the 6th of June. Mr. Henry, by his two marriages, was the father of fifteen children. By his first wife, he had six, of whom two only survived him; by his last, he had six sons and three daughters, all of whom, together with their mother, were living at his death. He had been fortunate during the latter part of his life; and, chiefly by the means of judicious purchases of lands, left his family, large as it was, not only independent, but rich. In his habits of living he was remarkably temperate and frugal. He seldom drank any thing but water; and his table was furnished in the most simple manner. His morals were strict. As a husband, a father, a master, he had no superior. He was kind and hospitable to the stranger, and most friendly and accommodating to his neighbors. He was nearly six feet high; spare, and what may be called raw-boned, with a slight stoop of the shoulders; his complexion was dark, sun-burned, and sallow, without any appearance of blood in his cheeks; his countenance grave, thoughtful and penetrating, and strongly marked with the lineaments of deep reflection: the earnestness of his manner, united with an habitual contraction or knitting of his brows, and those lines of thought with which his face was profusely furrowed, gave to his countenance, at some times, the appearance of severity. Henry was gifted with a strong and musical voice, and a most expressive countenance, and he acquired particular skill in the use of them. His style of speaking, to judge from the representations of his hearers, was altogether more successful than that of any of his cotemporaries. He could be vehement, insinuating, humorous and sarcastic by turns, and always with the utmost effect. He was a natural orator, of the highest order, combining imagination, acuteness, dexterity and ingenuity, with the most forcible action and extraordinary powers of face and utterance. As a statesman, his principal merits were sagacity and boldness. His name is brilliantly and lastingly connected with the history of his country’s emancipation.

John Hancock, was born at Quincy, near Boston, and was the son and grandson of an eminent clergyman, but, having early lost his father, was indebted for his liberal education to his uncle, a merchant of great wealth and respectability, who sent him to Harvard university, where he was graduated in 1754. He was then placed in the counting-house of his benefactor, and not long afterwards visited England, where he was present at the coronation of George III, as little prescient as the monarch himself of the part which he was destined to act in relation to the English government. On the sudden demise of his uncle, in 1764, he succeeded to his large fortune and extensive business; both of which he managed with great judgment and munificence. As a member of the provincial legislature, he exerted himself with zeal and resolution against the royal governor and the British ministry, and became so obnoxious to them, in consequence, that in the proclamation issued by general Gage, after the battle of Lexington, and a few days before that of Bunker hill, offering pardon to the rebels, he and Samuel Adams were especially excepted, their offenses being ‘of too flagitious a nature to admit of any other consideration than that of condign punishment.’ This circumstance gave additional celebrity to these two patriots, between whom, however, an unfortunate dissention took place which produced a temporary schism in the party which they headed, and a long personal estrangement between themselves. In fact, they differed so widely in their modes of living and general dispositions, that their concurrence in political measures may be considered one of the strongest proofs of their patriotism. Hancock was a magnificent liver, lavishly bountiful, and splendidly hospitable; Samuel Adams had neither the means nor the inclination for pursuing a similar course. He was studiously simple and frugal, and was of an austere, unbending character.

Hancock was president of the provincial congress of Massachusetts, until he was sent as a delegate from the province to the general congress at Philadelphia, in 1775. Soon after his arrival there, he was chosen to succeed Peyton Randolph as president of that assembly, and was the first to affix his signature to the declaration of independence. He continued to fill the chair until the year 1779, when he was compelled by disease to retire from congress. He was then elected governor of Massachusetts, and was annually chosen from 1780 to 1785. After an interval of two years, during which Mr. Bowdoin occupied the post, he was reëlected, and continued in the office until his death, Oct. 8, 1793, at the age of 56 years. In the interval, he acted as president of the convention of the state for the adoption of the federal constitution, for which he finally voted. (An able sketch of his character is contained in Tudor’s Life of Otis.) The talents of Hancock were rather useful than brilliant. He seldom spoke, but his knowledge of business, and facility in despatching it, together with his keen insight into the characters of men, rendered him peculiarly fit for public life. As the president of a deliberative assembly, he excelled. His voice was sonorous, his apprehension of questions quick; he was well acquainted with parliamentary forms, and inspired respect and confidence by his attention, impartiality and dignity. In his private life, he was eminent for his hospitality and beneficence. He was a complete gentleman of the old school, both in his appearance and manners; dressing richly, according to the fashion of the day, keeping a handsome equipage, and being distinguished for politeness and affability in social intercourse. When Washington consulted the legislature of Massachusetts upon the propriety of bombarding Boston, Hancock advised its being done immediately, if it would benefit the cause, although nearly his whole property consisted in houses and real estate in that town.

Ethan Allen, a brigadier-general in the American revolutionary army, was born in Salisbury, Connecticut, but was educated principally in Vermont, to which state his parents emigrated whilst he was yet young. His education was of a limited character. In the disturbances which agitated Vermont, he took an active part against the royal authority, in favor of the Green mountain boys, the name by which the settlers in that territory were designated.

In 1775, soon after the battle of Lexington, in compliance with the request of the legislature of Connecticut, Allen collected a body of about 230 Green mountain boys, and marched against the fortresses of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, for the purpose of taking them by assault. At Castleton, he was joined by colonel Arnold, who had received directions from the Massachusetts committee of safety to raise a corps of men for the same purpose, but, failing to accomplish that object, he determined to proceed with the small force of colonel Allen. They arrived at the lake opposite to Ticonderoga, on the evening of May 9, and, having with great difficulty procured boats, landed 83 men on the other shore during the night. The day beginning to dawn, however, Allen was obliged to attack the fort before his rear could cross the lake, having previously animated his soldiers, by a harangue, which he concluded with saying, ‘I now propose to advance before you, and in person to conduct you through the wicket-gate; but, inasmuch as it is a desperate attempt, I do not urge on any one contrary to his will. You that will undertake voluntarily, poise your fire-locks.’ They all immediately poised their fire locks. He then advanced at the head of the centre file to the wicket-gate, where a sentry snapped his fusee at him, and retreated through the covered way, followed by Allen, who formed his men upon the parade. The apartments of the commanding officer having been pointed out to him by a sentry who asked quarter, he instantly repaired thither, and, holding his sword over captain de Laplace, whom he found undressed demanded, the surrender of the fort. The latter asking him by what authority, ‘I demand it,’ said Allen, ‘in the name of the great Jehovah, and of the continental congress.’ De Laplace was constrained to comply with the summons, and the fort, with its stores and garrison, was given up. On the same day, also, Allen obtained possession of Crown Point, and soon after captured a sloop-of-war, the only armed vessel on lake Champlain, and thus accquired the entire command of the lake.

In the following autumn, he was twice despatched into Canada, to engage the inhabitants to lend their support to the American cause. In the last of these expeditions, he formed a plan, in concert with colonel Brown, to reduce Montreal. September 10, 1775, Allen accordingly crossed the river, at the head of 110 men, but was attacked, before Brown could join him, by the British troops, consisting of 500 men, and, after a most obstinate resistance, was taken prisoner. The events of his captivity he himself has recorded in a narrative compiled by him after his release, in the most singular style, but apparently with great fidelity. For some time he was kept in arms, and treated with much severity. He was sent to England as a prisoner, with an assurance, that, on his arrival there, he would meet with the halter. During the passage, extreme cruelty was exercised towards him and his fellow-prisoners. They were all, to the number of 34, thrust, hand-cuffed, into a small place in the vessel, enclosed with white-oak plank, not more than 20 feet wide by 22 long. After about a month’s confinement in Pendennis castle, near Falmouth, he was put on board a frigate, January 8, 1776, and carried to Halifax. Thence, after an imprisonment of five months, he was removed to New York. On the passage from Halifax to the latter place, Allen was treated with great kindness by captain Smith, the commander of the vessel, and evinced his gratitude by refusing to join in a conspiracy to kill the British captain and seize the frigate. His refusal prevented the execution of the plan. He remained at New York for a year and a half, sometimes in confinement, and sometimes at large, on parole. On May 6, 1778 Allen was exchanged for colonel Campbell, and immediately afterwards repaired to the head-quarters of General Washington, by whom he was received with much respect. As his health was impaired he returned to Vermont, after having made an offer of his services to the commander-in-chief, in case of his recovery. His arrival in Vermont was celebrated by the discharge of cannon; and he was appointed to the command of the state militia, as a mark of esteem for his patriotism and military talents. A fruitless attempt was made by the British to bribe him to lend his support to a union of Vermont with Canada. He died suddenly at his estate in Colchester, February 13, 1789.

General Allen was a man of strong and enterprising, but haughty and restless mind. Although his education had been circumscribed, he was daring in his pretensions to knowledge, and bold and peremptory in his assertions. Besides the narrative of his captivity, which we have noticed, and a number of pamphlets in the controversy with New York, he published a ‘Vindication of the Opposition of the Inhabitants of Vermont to the Government of New York, and their right to form an independent State,’ 1779, and a work, entitled, ‘Allen’s Theology, or the Oracles of Reason,’ the first formal publication in the United States openly directed against the Christian religion. Allen was a confirmed infidel. He adopted some of the most fantastical and absurd notions imaginable, believing, with Pythagoras, that the soul of man, after death, would live again in beasts, birds, fishes, etc. He often told his friends, that he himself would live again under the appearance of a large white horse. However, there is an anecdote extant, which proves that he professed to entertain those ideas more from an affectation of singularity, than from conviction. Whilst sitting in his library, conversing with a physician by the name of Elliot, Allen was informed that his daughter was dying, and desired to speak with him. He immediately repaired to her chamber, followed by Dr. Elliot. His wife was distinguished for her piety, and had instructed her daughter in the principles of Christianity. As soon as her father stood at her bedside, she said to him, ‘I am about to die; shall I believe in the principles you have taught me, or shall I believe in what my mother has taught me?’ He became greatly agitated; his chin quivered; his whole frame shook; and, after waiting a few moments, he replied, ‘Believe what your mother has taught you.’

Benedict Arnold was one of the most distinguished generals in the American army during the earlier part of the contest of the colonies with Great Britain, and subsequently infamous as a traitor to his country, was born in Connecticut, of obscure parentage, and received an education suitable to an humble condition. The occupations of his youth were not fitted to prepare him for the functions which he was called upon to exercise in the sequel. At first a dealer in horses, he sustained losses in his trade. Eager for renown, greedy of money, the troubles of his country inspired him with the hope of acquiring fame and fortune by the profession of arms: accordingly, on the breaking out of the revolutionary war, he embraced the cause of his countrymen with enthusiasm, and took the command of a company of volunteers at New Haven. He soon won a high military reputation. Washington, encouraged by secret advices that the Canadians were inclined to make part of the Union, projected the surprise of Quebec. This hazardous undertaking required leaders at once active, vigilant, bold, and inflexibly patient. He committed it to Montgomery and colonel Arnold, as the most capable. He exhorted them, with extreme earnestness, to treat the Canadians as friends, as fellow-citizens, and to punish severely the least irregularities of the soldiery. Arnold began his march in the month of September. He conducted his small force through deserts which man had never before penetrated. The river of Kennebeck had overflowed its banks; he crossed it by swimming, or on rafts. Unknown streams presented a new obstacle: he diverted their course. The snow fell in abundance; a few hours of sun during the day were insufficient to thaw the ice formed in the long and severe nights of the northern autumn; but nothing could arrest his progress. He was always in the van with the pioneers, who cut a passage through this wild country, and, at the end of each march, had arrived before the enemy knew of his approach. He thus put in practice a maxim which he was fond of repeating: ‘In war, expedition is equivalent to strength.’ The last division, conducted by a man less resolute and persevering, returned; while he, at the head of the two first, sustained the courage of the soldiers, who were exhausted by fatigue, hunger and every species of suffering. After two months of toil, all impediments were overcome, and he encamped before the fortress, but with a band so much enfeebled, that he was obliged to await the arrival of Montgomery, who approached by another route. Montgomery died gloriously in an assault, December 31, 1775. Arnold was severely wounded in the leg, and forced to convert the siege into a blockade. He was not, however, to be daunted by any reverse. From the bed to which his wound confined him, he infused into the little army, the command of which had now devolved upon him, his own spirit of determination and confidence. The enterprise failed: the courage and intelligence which he exhibited throughout, placed him, nevertheless, in the first class of American officers. He served with better fortune, and still greater distinction, in the subsequent campaigns, and bore a considerable part in that in which Burgoyne and his army were made prisoners. He fought with his usual intrepidity in the engagement which immediately preceded the capitulation. The first to throw himself into the intrenchments of the enemy, he was animating his men by his example, when a ball shattered the leg already wounded at the siege of Quebec. As he was borne from the ranks to his tent, he still issued orders for the continuance of the assault. The boldness of Arnold was so great, that he was accused of a disposition to entangle himself rashly in perilous situations; but it could not be denied, that his rapid discernment supplied him, in the midst of danger, with the surest expedients, and that success always justified his daring. The admiration of his fellow-citizens kept pace with his services. His love of glory was accompanied with an equally strong love of pleasure and dissipation, and he was very unscrupulous about the mode of obtaining the means of gratifying it. His ill-gotten wealth he squandered in frivolous expenses, or mere ostentation. Montreal, the second city of Canada, was, under his command, a scene of injustice and rapacity, and the Canadians soon abandoned the design of joining the confederation. The attempt on Canada was abandoned, and, the wounds of Arnold being not yet healed, he could be invested only with some stationary command. Washington, though he detested his vices, did not wish to leave his talents idle. The English having evacuated Philadelphia, he directed Arnold to take possession of that city with some troops of the Pennsylvania line,—​a delicate charge for a man so prone to extend his powers, and define them according to his interests. It was not long before he displayed in this city a magnificence as foreign to the habits of the country, as it was unseasonable in the midst of the calamities of war. He even lodged in his house the French envoy and all his suite on their arrival. From this time, too, he began to profess an extraordinary attachment to the French, and great zeal for an alliance with them. To relieve himself from the difficulties into which his extravagance had plunged him, he resorted to the same oppression and extortion which had rendered his authority odious to the Canadians. Under pretense of the wants of the army, he forbade the shopkeepers to sell or buy; he then put their goods at the disposal of his agents, and caused them afterwards to be resold with a profit. He prostituted his authority to enrich his accomplices, and squabbled with them about the division of the prey. The citizens applied for redress to the courts of justice. But, with his military authority as his shield, he set at defiance both justice and the laws. At length, however, a representation of the grievances which the state was suffering, was made to congress by the president of the executive council of Pennsylvania, a man of firm and upright character, who had endeavored in vain to repress the overweening and predatory spirit of Arnold, and a committee was appointed to inquire into the subject. Arnold replied to the charges with arrogance. Some members of congress were of opinion that he should be suspended from his military functions until the investigation of his public conduct was brought to an issue; but the accusation had become an affair of party, and he had influence enough to cause this proposition to be set aside. Congress at length resolved to lay the complaints against him before the commander-in-chief.

As soon as Arnold saw that the resolutions of congress would be of this tenor, he resigned the command which he held in Philadelphia. He was tried before a court martial, and condemned, January 20, 1779, to be reprimanded by the commander-in-chief. Congress ratified the sentence, and Washington, having caused the culprit to appear before him, performed the task with the considerate delicacy which he thought due to so distinguished an officer. Arnold, however, quitted the army, and, thenceforth, nourished an implacable hatred towards the cause which he had so brilliantly defended. The embarrassment of his affairs was at this time such, that private aid would not suffice to extricate him. He had, some time before, formed a partnership with some owners of privateers, who paid his share of the expenses of equipment, and expected to be compensated for their advances by his countenance and protection; but the chances were adverse, and, instead of profits to be divided, there were losses to be borne. Arnold, now without credit or authority, was no longer regarded by the owners as any thing more than an ordinary partner. They exacted his proportion of the loss, and their knowledge of his difficulties only served to render them more urgent in their suit. In this extremity he tried a last resort.

Congress, at the commencement of the revolution, committed an error which proved of great detriment to the finances. It entrusted some officers with agencies which had no immediate connection with the business of command or military service. Arnold, the least proper for such trusts, was charged with considerable ones, and had large claims for moneys and stores furnished in the expedition to Canada. The commissioners to whom they were referred for settlement, reduced them very considerably. He appealed from their decision to congress, who pronounced that the commissioners had shown more lenity than rigor in the liquidation of his accounts. Disappointed in all his expectations, Arnold at last determined to betray his country, and to make his treason in a high degree useful to England, that it might procure him a full pardon for his share in the revolt of the colonies. He wished to be regarded as a subject returned to his allegiance, and worthy of the honorable rewards due to faithful and virtuous citizens. As a first step, the British commanders were to be made acquainted with his discontent, but in so guarded a manner as to leave a retreat open in case the offers which might be made to him should not prove satisfactory. Particular circumstances facilitated the communications between them.

As soon as the English commander was apprized of the disposition of Arnold, he despatched emissaries charged with such offers as were most likely to determine a man whose hesitation was only about the means and conditions. Some of Arnold’s proceedings, about this period, warrant the supposition, that he at first meant to tamper with his brother officers, but relinquished this design on more mature reflection. He took good care that nothing of his real intentions should be divined by the subaltern English agents; but there was, at New York, a man whom he thought he could trust without risk. This was Charles Beverley Robinson, an American by birth, and a colonel in the British army, whose property all lay within the United States. His mansion, situated on the Hudson, was included in the American lines, and three miles lower than the forts upon the opposite bank. The commanding officers of West Point, having found it deserted, had made it their quarters. Arnold wrote to this officer, that the ingratitude of his country, and other considerations to be afterwards disclosed, had produced a change in his political sentiments; that he aspired to merit, thenceforward, the favor of the king; that he could render signal services; and wished to enter into a correspondence on the subject with Sir Henry Clinton. This overture was well received, and, a direct communication with the English general being established, it was agreed that Arnold should dissemble, with the utmost care, his discontent; that he should make every effort to obtain a command from general Washington; that, as soon as he succeeded, he should consult with Sir Henry Clinton as to his future movements, and be guided by the instructions which would be given by him. From this time, he entirely altered his manner and language. He affected to have forgotten the affront of the reprimand, and pretended to feel a more lively attachment than ever to the cause of independence.

The country through which the Hudson flows was the principal theatre of the war. A station in this quarter would, he thought, best answer his purpose. He was well acquainted with the localities. He examined, with minute attention, in what spot, by what operations, he could most beneficially second the enterprises of the British, and which was the most important position to betray into their hands. New York was, at this time, in the hands of the British, who had assembled there the greatest part of their troops. The fortress of West Point, a military station of very great importance, is distant twenty leagues from this city. Arnold aimed at the chief command of this post, with a view of betraying it into the hands of the British, with the garrisons, and the arms and immense stores which were deposited there; for Fort Clinton contained, besides the ammunition necessary for its own defense, the stock of powder of the whole army. The command of the fort had been entrusted to general Howe, an officer of tried courage, but of limited capacity, who could be employed elsewhere without inconvenience to the service. The wounds of Arnold did not as yet allow him to mount on horseback; they did not disqualify him, however, for conducting the defense of a citadel. He had early secured the patronage of some of the leading men of the State of New York, and Washington was prevailed upon to consign West Point to him. Being a traitor to his own country, he was apprehensive lest those to whom he was about to sell himself, might prove treacherous to him. He felt anxious to receive the price of his ignominious bargain at the moment of its ratification; but he could extort nothing more than a promise of 30,000 pounds sterling, and the assurance that he should be maintained in the British army in the rank of brigadier-general, which he already held. About a month previous (July 10, 1780,) the first division of the French army arrived at Newport, in the State of Rhode Island. The situation of the English became every day more and more critical. Sir Henry Clinton had relinquished his projected expedition. He urged Arnold to fulfill his engagements, and supposed the thing easy for a general who was master of the forts and the river; but there were, in fact, numerous obstacles in the way, and of these the presence of the commander-in-chief was the most serious. Arnold knew his vigilance and activity. He insisted, therefore, with Clinton on the necessity of deliberation, adding, however, that all should be in readiness to improve the first favorable opportunity. A young officer of foreign extraction served in the British Army. He was endowed with all the qualities which render a man useful to his country, and dear to society. This was John Andre, adjutant-general of the British army. General Sir Henry Clinton had taken him as his aid-de-camp, and did not disdain him as a counselor. To him Clinton committed the business of negotiating with Arnold. A correspondence ensued between Arnold and Andre, under the names of Gustavus and Anderson. Mercantile relations were feigned, to disguise the real object, and an American, whose dwelling stood between the lines that separated the two armies, served as a common messenger. At this period the rumor began to spread of a second division of the French army having sailed, and that Washington only awaited its arrival to begin the siege of New York. The marshal de Castries, who then administered the department of the marine with so much reputation, had, in fact, advised the French envoy of the approaching departure of a second expedition. Clinton caused Arnold to be told that it was time to act; that a day must be fixed for the surrender of the forts; and that, if time were given to the allies to effect a junction, it might no longer be in the power of Arnold himself to fulfill his engagements. He asked, also, plans of the forts, and the instructions necessary for the safe guidance of the British troops when they were sent to take possession of West Point. Arnold replied to these new importunities in the language concerted with Andre: ‘Our master goes away the 17th of this month. He will be absent five or six days. Let us avail ourselves of this interval to arrange our business. Come immediately and meet me at the lines, and we will settle definitively the risks and profits of the copartnership. All will be ready; but this inteview is indispensable, and must precede the sailing of our ship.’ It was thus that Arnold apprized Clinton of the approaching departure of the commander-in-chief. Washington had, in fact, given a rendezvous to count de Rochambeau, general of the French land forces, and to the chevalier de Ternay, commander of the squadron. They were to meet at Hartford, in Connecticut, to confer about the operations of this and the ensuing campaigns. But Arnold was not correctly advised as to the period of Washington’s departure, and the mistake led to important consequences. He had, in other letters, solicited an interview with Andre, and he now exacted it as a condition indispensable for the prosecution of the enterprise. Hitherto, everything had succeded beyond his hopes. There had been a total absence of those mysterious rumors, and vague surmises, which accompany, and seem to portend, a great conspiracy. Never had so momentous a plot been more felicitously brought so near to its execution. This profound secrecy was owing to the precaution of Arnold, in not having unbosomed himself to any of his own countrymen, and in admitting only Andre and Robinson as correspondents. He took credit for this policy, and his urgency for an interview with Andre arose chiefly from his resolution to confide to the hands of this officer alone the maps and particular information which Clinton demanded.

The 17th of September, the day specified for the departure of Washington, passed, and he was still at West Point. Arnold advertised Clinton of the delay, and explained his mistake by mentioning a circumstance which had not been before noted. The 17th fell on a Sunday,—​a day which the Americans consecrated entirely to the duties of religion, and on which most of them abstained even from journeys, which, elsewhere, would be thought indispensable. Clinton admitted this explanation the more readily as he knew that Washington respected the scruples of others, and was himself very religious. To obviate untoward accidents, it was agreed that Andre should leave New York only on the 19th of September, and reach the American forts about the 20th. He accordingly embarked in the night on board the Vulture sloop-of-war. Clinton sent with him Beverly Robinson, the colonel through whom Arnold had made his first overture. He expected that the prudence of this officer would moderate the ardor of Andre. Moreover, Arnold occupied Robinson’s house, and the private affairs, which he, as a refugee, had to adjust with congress, furnished a plausible pretense for his approaching the American lines and posts. September 20, they arrived almost opposite to fort Montgomery, situated on the same side as West Point, five miles lower down. They cast anchor in sight of the nearest American redoubts, but beyond the reach of some small cannon, the only artillery of those redoubts. The Vulture got aground at low water. The movement on board, and some signals which she made, alarmed the vigilance of colonel Livingston, who commanded at Verplanck’s Point. He ascertained, on reconnoitering, that the sloop might be sunk by one or two pieces of heavy cannon; and as those of the forts which he commanded were of too small a calibre, he requested larger from Arnold. The general refused them, to the great surprise of Livingston. But tacit obedience is the life of discipline, and he acquiesced in some idle excuse. Two days elapsed after the Sunday, and still Washington had, apparently, made no preparations for departure. Arnold was himself uneasy at this disappointment; but the apprehension of exciting suspicion by too frequent communications prevented him from making it known to Clinton. The English general was informed of it through another channel. He knew the unprincipled character of Arnold, and could comprehend the probability of a snare masked by a counterfeit scheme of treason. He was the more disquieted as Andre and Robinson were already far on their way; and there was equal inconvenience in leaving them ignorant, or advising them of their danger. If Arnold were sincere in his defection, his return to New York would disconcert all Arnold’s measures, and expose him to serious risks. If he deceived the British, all the risks were for Andre and Robinson. They had not, as yet, been able to communicate with the shore, but, persuaded that Washington must have set out for Hartford, they put in execution a stratagem, arranged beforehand with Arnold, to facilitate the rendezvous. Robinson wrote to the American general, Putnam, as if to transact with him business relating to his property, and proposed an interview. In this letter was enclosed another to general Arnold, wherein Robinson solicited a conference with him, in case Putnam should be absent. The packet, being directed to Arnold, would be opened only by him; but if, perchance, it fell into other hands, the whole could be read without exciting suspicion of a plot. This letter was despatched to the shore by a flag of truce as soon as the sloop had cast anchor. It happened to be on the very day fixed by Washington for his departure. He had never meant to set out earlier, and had neither sanctioned nor contradicted the various rumors current on the subject. He left his quarters in the morning, and, on reaching the bank, found Arnold there with his barge, ready to transport him to the other side. In crossing, Washington remarked the sloop with the English flag, and took a spy-glass to observe her more narrowly. Some moments after, he gave to an officer near him, in a low voice, according to his usual mariner, an order probably of no consequence, which Arnold was unable to overhear. Arnold was guilty, and whatever he could not immediately penetrate, alarmed his fears. He supposed that the general could not remain ignorant of the circumstance of the flag of truce, and, doubtful even whether he might not be already acquainted with it, he thought it well to show him the two letters which he had received, asking him, at the same time, what course he ought to pursue. Washington, in the presence of several persons, dissuaded him from seeing Robinson, and directed him to give for answer to this officer, that his private business appertained exclusively to the jurisdiction of the civil authority. They touched the shore just as this conversation ceased. The commander-in-chief, whose presence kept Arnold in the greatest perplexity, landed, and pursued his journey to Hartford. Thus was the main obstacle removed, and the plot could proceed. The opinion uttered by Washington, in such positive terms, concerning the conference with Robinson,—​the order heard by several persons present,—​became, however, a law for Arnold, with respect to his ostensible conduct. It was, in this way, the first obstacle that thwarted the measures concerted between him and Andre. They could not meet publicly under the auspices of a flag of truce, and, though Andre had used this means to reach the lines, they were obliged to arrange a secret interview.

On the morning after the departure of Washington, Arnold sought out a man called Joshua Smith, well known to be devoted to the English, although he resided within the American posts. He made him the bearer of two passports to be carried on board the Vulture, one for Andre, under the fictitious name of Anderson; the other for Charles Beverley Robinson, who had not the same reason for practicing disguise. He charged him with a letter also, in which he urged them to repair to him on shore. Smith waited until nightfall, and then proceeded to the English sloop in a boat which Arnold had provided for him. Andre and Robinson expected that Arnold would himself visit them, and they were surprised when his emissary, Smith, appeared before them alone. Robinson declared that he would not go on shore, and used every effort to deter his companion; but the young man, full of impatience and ardor, saw only the chances of success, would listen to no remonstrance, and could not brook the idea, either of returning to New York without having executed his mission, or of exposing the main enterprise to miscarriage, by a caution which his rivals would infallibly stigmatise as cowardice. He put on a gray surtout, to hide his uniform, and accompanied Smith on shore. Arnold was waiting to receive him at the water’s edge. They discoursed there for some time; but, as they were liable to be surprised, Arnold led him towards the house of Smith, when he immediately laid before him plans of the forts, a memoir, composed (for a better use) by the chief engineer, Duportail, on the means of attacking and defending them, and minute instructions with respect to the measures to be taken by the British for the occupation of them, when he (Arnold) should have done his part in opening the way. They presumed that Washington had already reached Hartford, and they were right; for he was there, at the same hour, in consultation with the French commander.

Arnold and Andre, calculating anxiously the probable length of Washington’s absence, supposed he would return in three or four days, that is, on the 25th or 26th of September, and one or other of these days was fixed for the execution of the plot. It was settled that Andre should go back in all haste to New York; that the English troops, which were already embarked, under pretense of a distant expedition, should be held ready to ascend the river, and sail at the first signal; that to facilitate the reduction of West point, Arnold should march out of the forts all the troops destined for the defense, and entangle them in gorges and ravines, where he would pretend to await the English assailants, while these were to debark on another side, and enter by passes left unguarded; and, at all events, the garrison and troops were to be so distributed, that, if they did not surrender at the first summons, they must be immediately cut in pieces. He informed Andre that the chain which was stretched across the river from West point to Constitution island, forming, when perfect, an effectual bar to the passage of the river, was now no longer an impediment. He had detached a link, ostensibly to have it mended; the smiths would not return it for some days; and the two ends of the chain were held together by a fastening too weak to bear even a slight concussion. The English would know at what moment they were to advance, by the kindling of fires, in the night, under the directions of Arnold, on the adjacent eminences. A single cannon fired from their ships, to be followed by a similar discharge from the shore, would proclaim that they had perceived the signals. Other tokens agreed upon were to furnish, successively, information of the several distances of the British forces in their approach. When they had arrived within three miles of the fortress, two English officers, in American uniform, were to ride full gallop to Arnold’s quarters, to learn how matters stood and to hasten with the intelligence to the British naval commander. Then only was Arnold to put in motion that portion of the garrison which remained in the works, and station it at posts which would not be attacked. They agreed upon the countersign to be given on the 24th and 25th. Arnold delivered to the Englishman drafts of all the works, and of the passes leading to them, several memoirs, written with his own hand, and full returns of the garrison and the forces of each division of the army. He had never before allowed a single paper to go out of his hands, which might expose him to detection. But he now saw no danger in confiding these to Andre, who was to reëmbark directly on board the sloop, and make sail for New York. Andre returned alone to the beach, whence a boat was to convey him to the Vulture. But this arrangement was defeated by an obstacle wholly unexpected. At an early hour, Livingston, still disturbed at the proximity of the sloop, had, of his own authority, caused a four-pounder to be dragged from his redoubt to a point of land from which the shot could reach the vessel. She was aground, and had already sustained some damage from the piece of the American officer, when she began to float again at the rising of the tide. Robinson took advantage of this circumstance to weigh anchor, and remove some miles lower down, beyond the reach of similar attack. This change of station attracted the notice of the master and rowers of the boat in which Andre expected to regain the sloop. They were Americans. The movements which they had witnessed for the two last days were unusual; and although men of their description, accustomed to ferry all persons indifferently from one side of the river to the other, did not affect to be of any party, they were unwilling to commit themselves. When Andre proposed to them to convey him to the sloop, they told him that it was too far, and peremptorily refused to go. He went back immediately to Arnold, and urged him to exert his authority in so serious a predicament. But the latter, perplexed at his unlooked-for-appearance, and already harassed with various disappointments, durst not attempt to compel the men, and told him he must submit to return by land; to lay aside his uniform altogether, and assume another dress. Andre changed his coat for one which Smith provided. Arnold now wished to withdraw the papers which he had entrusted to him; he thought it hazardous to send them by land. But Andre was very desirous of showing to Clinton with what punctuality he had executed his mission. These papers were a trophy of which he would not, therefore, allow himself to be dispossessed. He observed to Arnold, that danger of any kind could now no longer be in question, except so far as to show that they both despised it; and added, that he would keep the papers, which brought him into greater peril than Arnold, and, to allay his fears, would secrete them in his boots. Arnold submitted, and, leaving Andre in Smith’s house, returned to his quarters, from which he had been absent since the day before. The Patrol, spread through the whole neighborhood, made it imprudent for Andre to begin his journey before twilight. He was accompanied by Smith: each had a passport from Arnold, ‘to go to the lines of White plains, or lower, if the bearer thought proper; he being on public business.’ They were accosted, at Compond, by an American officer of militia, who told them that it was too late for them to reach, that evening, any other quarters. In order not to awaken his suspicions, they resolved to pass the night there. The next day, 23d, they crossed the Hudson to King’s ferry, pushing forward when they were not observed, and slakening their pace to conceal their eagerness, wherever they were likely to be seen. By means of their passports, they traversed all the American posts without molestation. They arrived, uninterrupted, a little beyond Pine’s bridge, a village situated on the Croton: they had not, however, crossed the lines, although they could descry the ground occupied by the English videttes. Smith, looking all around, and perceiving no one, said to Andre, ‘You are safe—​good bye,’ and retook, at full speed, the road by which they had come. Andre, on his part, believing himself out of danger, and all further precaution superfluous, put spurs to his horse. He had proceeded four leagues onward with the same good fortune; he could see the Hudson once more, and was about entering Tarrytown, the border village, when a man, armed with a gun, sprung suddenly from the thickets, and seizing the reins of his bridle, exclaimed, ‘Where are you bound?’ At the same moment, two others ran up, who were armed in like manner, and formed, with the first part of the patrol of volunteer militia that guarded the lines. They were not in uniform, and Andre, preöccupied by the idea that he was no longer on enemy’s ground, thought that they must be of his own party. It did not, therefore, occur to him to show him his passport, which was sufficient to deceive Americans, and could not alter his destination, if those who arested him were of the English side. Instead of answering their question, he asked them, in his turn, where they belonged to. They replied, ‘To below,’—​words referring to the course of the river, and implying that they were of the English party. ‘And so do I,’ said Andre, confirmed in his mistake by this stratagem. ‘I am,’ continued he, in a tone of command, ‘an English officer on urgent business, and I do not wish to be longer detained.’ ‘You belong to our enemies,’ was the rejoinder, ‘and we arrest you.’ Andre, struck with astonishment at this unexpected language, presented his passport; but this paper, after the confession he had just made, only served to render his case more suspicious. He offered them gold, his horse, and promised them large rewards, and permanent provision from the English government, if they would let him escape. These young men, whom such offers did but animate the more in their duty, replied, that they wanted nothing. They drew off his boots, and detected the fatal papers. They no longer hesitated to carry him before colonel Jameson, who commanded the out-posts. When questioned by that officer he still called himself Anderson, the name mentioned in his passport, and evinced no discomposure; he had recovered all of his presence of mind, and, forgetful of his own danger, thought only of Arnold’s, and of the means of extricating him. To apprise him of it safely, he begged Jameson to inform the commanding officer of West Point that Anderson, the bearer of his passport, was detained. Jameson thought it more simple to order him to be conducted to Arnold. He was already on the way, and the thread of the conspiracy was about to be resumed in the interview of the accomplices, when the American colonel, recollecting that the papers found upon the prisoner were in the hand-writing of Arnold himself, and adverting to the several extraordinary features of the business, sent, in all haste, after the pretended Anderson, and had him conveyed, under guard, to Old Salem. He despatched, at the same time, an express to Washington, charged with a letter containing a circumstantial account of this affair, and with the drafts and other papers taken from the prisoner. But the commander-in-chief, who set out on the same day, the 23d of September, to return to his army, had pursued a different route from that by which he went to Hartford, and the messenger was compelled to retrace his steps without having seen him. This delay proved the salvation of Arnold.

Jameson was a gallant soldier, but a man of an irresolute temper, and no great sagacity; moreover, treachery on the part of Arnold appeared impossible to one of an ingenuous and honorable character. He began to view his first suspicions as an outrage to an officer distinguished, as Arnold was, by so many noble exploits, and, wishing to reconcile the deference due to him with the performance of his own duty, he wrote him, that Anderson, the bearer of his passport, had been arrested on the 23d. Arnold did not receive this intimation until the morning of the 25th. It was on a Monday; and the same day, or the one following, had been selected for the consummation of the plot. Until that moment, he had believed success infallible. The exhilaration which this belief produced was even remarked, and he ascribed it to his expectation of the speedy arrival of his general, ‘for whom he had pleasant news.’ He was busy with the appropriate arrangements for the reception of a body of more welcome visitors, when he received the letter of Jameson. Those who were present on the occasion recollected, afterwards, that he could not, at first, conceal his dismay and extreme agitation; but that, recovering himself quickly, he said, in a loud voice, that he would write an answer; and, dismissing all about him, withdrew, to reflect on the course which it was best to adopt. The entrance of two American officers, however, interrupted his musings. They were sent by the commander-in-chief, and informed Arnold, that he had arrived that morning at Fishkill, a few leagues from West Point; that he was to have set out a few hours after them, and could not be far distant. Thus did the most alarming circumstances rapidly succeed each other. The traitor had no resource but a precipitate flight. Suppressing his emotion, he told the two officers that he wished to go and meet the general alone, and begged them not to follow him. He then entered the apartment of his wife, exclaiming—​‘All is discovered:—​Andre is a prisoner:—​The commander-in-chief will know every thing:—​The discharge of cannon, which you hear, is a salute, and announces that he is not far off:—​Burn all my papers:—​I fly to New York.’ He embraced her, as well as their infant child, whom she carried in her arms, and, solely intent on his escape, left her, without waiting for her reply, mounted the horse of one of the two officers, and rushed towards the Hudson, which was not far from his house. He had taken the precaution to have always ready a barge well-manned: he threw himself headlong into it, and caused the boatmen to make for the English sloop, with all possible dispatch. The barge, bearing a flag of truce, was still visible from the heights when Washington arrived. The two officers related to him what they had witnessed. Arnold had absconded. His wife, in the agonies of despair, seemed to fear for her infant, and maintained an obstinate silence. No one knew how to explain these extraordinary incidents. The commander-in-chief repaired, without delay, to the fort of West Point, where, however, he could learn nothing of a decisive import. But some orders, issued by Arnold the day before, redoubled his suspicions: he returned to the quarters of the general, and at this instant Jameson’s messenger presented himself, and delivered the packet with which he was charged. Washington seemed, for a few minutes, as it were, overwhelmed by the discovery of a crime which ruined the fame of an American general, and wounded the honor of the American army. Those who were near him anxiously interrogated his looks in silence, which he broke by saying,—​‘I thought that an officer of courage and ability, who had often shed his blood for his country, was entitled to confidence, and I gave him mine. I am convinced now, and for the rest of my life, that we should never trust those who are wanting in probity, whatever abilities they may possess. Arnold has betrayed us.’ Meanwhile, the precautions required by the occasion were every where taken. General Heath, a faithful and vigilant officer, was substituted for Arnold at West Point; the commanders of the other posts were admonished to be on their guard. Greene, who had been invested with the command of the army during the absence of Washington, recalled within the forts the garrisons which the traitor had dispersed, and marched a strong division near to the lines. Hamilton lost not an instant in repairing to King’s Ferry, the last American post on the side of New York. He had the mortification to learn, that a very short time before his arrival, Arnold’s barge had glided by with the swiftness of an arrow, and was then getting along side the Vulture, some miles lower down, opposite Teller’s Point,—​an anchorage situated at the head of the great basin of the Hudson, which is called Tappan bay. Livingston had remarked the barge that carried the fugitive, and, his suspicions being roused by the strange movements of the two or three days previous, would have stopped it, had not the sailors of his spy-boats been ashore when it passed. Messengers were sent to all the states of the Union, and to the French general, to inform them of this event. The express which bore the news to congress traveled with such rapidity, that he reached Philadelphia on the same day that the discovery was made in the camp. The magistrates were immediately directed to enter the house of Arnold, and to seize and examine his papers. They found nothing there relating to the conspiracy; but he had left memoranda which furnished ample proof that he was guilty of the extortions and peculations of which he had been accused two years before.

Jameson caused his unknown prisoner to be strictly guarded. The latter at first suppressed his true name, from consideration for Arnold; but, the day after his capture, supposing that the American general had had time to make his escape, he said to Jameson,—​‘My name is not Anderson; I am major Andre.’ The death of Andre, though ignominious, was happiness in comparison with the life of Arnold. Upon his establishment in the army of Great Britain, he found it necessary to make some exertions to secure the attachment of his new friends. With the hope of alluring many of the discontented to his standard, he published an address to the inhabitants of America, in which he endeavored to justify his conduct. He had encountered the dangers of the field, he said, from apprehension that the rights of his country were in danger. He had acquiesced in the declaration of independence, though he thought it precipitate. But the rejection of the overtures made by Great Britain, in 1778, and the French alliance, had opened his eyes to the ambitious views of those who would sacrifice the happiness of their country to their own aggrandizement, and had made him a confirmed loyalist. He artfully mingled assertions, that the principal members of congress held the people in sovereign contempt. This was followed, in about a fortnight, by a proclamation, addressed ‘to the officers and soldiers of the continental army,’ who have the real interest of their country at heart, and who are determined to be no longer the tools and dupes of congress and of France. To induce the American officers and soldiers to desert the cause which they had embraced, he represented that the corps of cavalry and infantry, which he was authorized to raise, would be upon the same footing with the other troops in the British service; that he should with pleasure advance those whose valor he had witnessed: and that the private men, who joined him, should receive a bounty of three guineas each, besides payment at the full value for horses, arms, and accoutrements. His object was the peace, liberty and safety of America. These proclamations did not produce the effect designed, and in all the hardships, sufferings and irritations of the war, Arnold remains the solitary instance of an American officer who abandoned the side first embraced in the contest, and turned his sword upon his former companions in arms. He was soon despatched, by Sir Henry Clinton, to make a diversion in Virginia. With about 1700 men, he arrived in the Chesapeake in January 1781, and, being supported by such a naval force as was suited to the nature of the service, he committed extensive ravages on the rivers, and along the unprotected coasts. It is said, that, while on this expedition, Arnold inquired of an American captain, whom he had taken prisoner, what the Americans would do with him, if he should fall into their hands. The officer replied, that they would cut off his lame leg, and bury it with the honors of war, and hang the remainder of his body in gibbets.

After his recall from Virginia, he conducted an expedition against New London in his native state of Connecticut. He took fort Trumbull, Sep. 6, with inconsiderable loss. On the other side of the harbor, lieutenant-colonel Earyre, who commanded another detachment, made an assault on fort Griswold, and, with the greatest difficulty, entered the works. An officer of the conquering troops asked who commanded. ‘I did,’ answered colonel Ledyard, ‘but you do now,’ and presented him his sword, which was immediately plunged into his own bosom. A merciless slaughter now commenced of the brave garrison, who had ceased to resist, and the greater part were either killed or wounded. After burning the town, and the stores which were in it, Arnold returned to New York in eight days. He survived the war but to drag on, in perpetual banishment from his native country, a dishonorable life amid a nation that imputed to him the loss of one of the brightest ornaments of its army—​the lamented Andre. He transmitted to his children a name of hateful celebrity. He obtained only a part of the debasing stipend of an abortive treason. His complaints soon caused it to be known, that all the promises by which he had been inveigled were not fulfilled. But baffled treason appears always to be overpaid, and the felon is the only one who thinks he experiences injustice. He enjoyed, however, the rank of brigadier-general; but the officers of the British army manifested a strong repugnance to serve with him. He possessed their esteem while he fought against them; they loaded him with contempt when treason brought him over to their side. He resided principally in England after the conclusion of the war, was in Nova Scotia, and afterwards to the West Indies, where he was taken prisoner by the French, from whom he escaped, and, returning to England, died in Gloucester place, London, June 14, 1801.

Horatio Gates was born in England, in 1728. He early embraced the career of arms, and rose to the rank of major by the force of merit alone. At the capture of Martinico, he was to aid general Monkton, and, after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, was stationed at Halifax in Nova Scotia. Seven years afterwards, he was again called into active life, by the breaking out of a new war, and was with Braddock when that unfortunate commander was defeated, in 1755. In consequence of a severe wound which he received in the battle, he was for some time debarred from active service; and, at the conclusion of the peace, he repaired to his native country. He soon, however, returned, and purchased an estate in Virginia, on which he resided until the commencement of the revolutionary war in 1775, when he was appointed adjutant-general by congress, with the rank of brigadier. In July, 1775, he accompanied the commander-in-chief to Massachusetts, where he continued until June in the following year, when he received the chief command of the army which had just retreated from Canada. This gave great umbrage to general Schuyler, who had hitherto superintended the forts and garrisons of New York, and now expressed his determination to resign, unless the injury were redressed. Congress, in consequence, endeavored to reconcile the pretensions of the two generals, by assigning to them authorities in some measure independent of each other. Schuyler was directed to provide and equip a naval armament, in order to obtain and preserve the command of the lakes and rivers which maintained the communications between Canada and the maritime and Hudson country, and Gates was enjoined to coöperate in this service as far as laid in his power. But they were only able to equip about 15 vessels, half of which were little better than boats, which were placed under the command of Arnold, who was opposed by a much superior force under Carleton. The first step of Gates occasioned some surprise and much clamor. The American forces had retreated to Crown Point, where such ravages were made among them by the small-pox, that Gates abandoned that fortress, and concentrated his army at Ticonderoga. This movement, which opened to the enemy the whole navigation of lake Champlain, was greatly condemned by Washington and all the field-officers. The unexpected retreat of general Carleton relieved them from the necessity of defending Ticonderoga. After this retreat, Gates marched with a considerable detachment to the assistance of general Washington, and continued with him, during his operations in the middle colonies, until the spring of 1777, when he resumed his command on the northern frontier. Here he was shortly afterwards superseded by Schuyler. But in August following, when Burgoyne had obtained possession of Ticonderoga, defeated St. Clair, occupied fort Ann and Skeensborough, and had arrived at fort St. Edward, on the upper branches of the Hudson, Gates was reinstated in the command. At fort St. Edward, Burgoyne remained for some time, in order to collect necessaries, and then, passing the Hudson, encamped at Saratoga. Gates immediately put himself in motion with an equal force, and, Sep. 19, an almost general engagement took place without any decisive result. Oct. 8, another action occurred, in which the British were totally defeated, and, on the 16th, Bugoyne surrendered with his whole army. This was, perhaps, the most important achievement of the whole war, or the one which had the greatest effect in giving it a favorable result.

About this time, when the popularity of general Gates was at its highest point, intrigues were commenced for elevating him to the station occupied by Washington, which were as shameful as they were unsuccessful. How far he himself was engaged in them, or whether he was concerned in them at all, it is not in our power to state; nor should we wish to enter into any details respecting it.

In June, 1780, Gates received the chief command of the southern districts. In this quarter, the affairs of the colonies were in a very bad condition. Charleston had been taken, and general Lincoln captured. When Gates assumed the command of the southern army, it scarcely amounted to 1500 men, badly supplied in every respect. After collecting all the troops he could, and equipping them as well as he was able, he advanced against the enemy, whom he met, August 16, under Cornwallis, at Camden, where the Americans were totally defeated. About fifty days after this disaster, general Greene was sent to supersede Gates, whose conduct was subjected to the investigation of a special court. After a long and tedious inquiry, he was finally acquitted, and reinstated in his command in 1782; but, in the interim, the war had been brought to a glorious termination by the capture of Cornwallis. When peace was made, he retired to his Virginia estate, and, in 1790, removed to New York, having first emancipated all his slaves, and provided for such of them as could not provide for themselves. On his arrival at New York, he was presented with the freedom of the city, and, in the year 1800, was chosen a member of the state legislature, in consequence of the critical balance of parties at that time, but resigned the seat as soon as the purpose for which he accepted it was gained. He died April 10, 1806, in the 78th year of his age.

General Gates possessed a handsome person, rather inclined to corpulency in the middle of his life; was courteous in his manners, and kind and generous in his disposition. He was a classical scholar and a sincere Christian.

Thaddeus Kosciusko, the last generalissimo of the republic of Poland, one of the noblest characters of his age, was descended from an ancient and noble, though not rich family, in Lithuania, aad was born in 1756. He was educated in the military school at Warsaw. The prince Adam Czartoriski, perceiving his talents and industry, made him second lieutenant in the corps of cadets, and sent him, at his own expense, to France, where he studied drawing and the military art. After his return, he was made captain. But the consequences of an unhappy passion for the daughter of Sosnowski, marshal of Lithuania (who was afterwards married to the prince Jos. Lubomirski), obliged him to leave Poland. Solitary studies, particularly in history and mathematics, and an elevated character, prepared him for the struggle for freedom, in which he engaged under Washington, who made him his aid. He distinguished himself particularly at the siege of Ninety-Six, and was very highly esteemed by the army and the commander-in-chief. He and Lafayette were the only foreigners admitted into the Cincinnati. Kosciusko received the rank of general, and, in 1786, returned to Poland. When the Polish army was formed (1789), the diet appointed him a major-general. He declared himself for the constitution of May 3, 1791, and served under prince Joseph Poniatowski. In the campaign of 1792, he distinguished himself against the Russians at Zieleneck and Dubienka. At the latter place, under cover of some works which he had thrown up in the course of 24 hours, he repulsed, with 1000 men, three successive attacks of 18,000 Russians, who prevailed only after the loss of 4,000 men. Kosciusko retired without having suffered severely. When king Stanislaus submitted to Catharine, he, with sixteen other officers, left the army, and was, therefore, obliged to retire from Poland. He went to Leipsic; and the legislative assembly of France, at this time, gave him the rights of a French citizen. The Poles becoming impatient under the oppression of Russia, some of Kosciusko’s friends in Warsaw determined to make an effort for the liberation of their country. They chose Kosciusko as their general, and made him acquainted with their plans. He imparted them to the counts Ignatius, Potocki and Kolontai in Dresden, who thought the enterprise injudicious. Kosciusko, however, went to the frontier, and sent general Zajonczeck and general Dzialynski into the Russian provinces of Poland, to prepare everything in silence. But when the Polish army was merged, in part, in the Russian, and the remainder reduced to 15,000 men, the insurrection broke out before the time fixed on. In Posen, Madalinski forcibly opposed the dissolution of his regiment. All now flew to arms; the Russian garrison was expelled from Cracow. Just at this moment, Kosciusko entered the city. The citizens now formed the act of confederation of Cracow (March 24, 1794), and Kosciusko, at their head, called upon the Poles to restore the constitution of May 3. Kosciusko then advanced to meet the Russian forces. Without artillery, at the head of only 4,000 men, part of whom were armed only with scythes and pikes, he defeated 12,000 Russians at Raclawice (April 4, 1794.) His army was now increased to 9,000 men, and he formed a junction with general Grochowski.

In the mean time, the Russian garrisons of Warsaw and Wilna had been put to death, or made prisoners. Kosciusko checked the outbreak of popular fury, sent troops against Volhynia, and organized the government at Warsaw. He marched out of the city, with 13,000 men, to oppose 17,000 Russians and Prussians, attacked them at Szezekocini, June 6, but was defeated after an obstinate conflict. He retreated to his entrenched camp before Warsaw. The Prussians took Cracow. Disturbances broke out, in conseqence, in Warsaw, June 28. The people murdered a part of the prisoners, and hung some Poles who were connected with the Russians. But Kosciusko punished the guilty, and restored order. The king of Prussia now formed a junction with the Russians, and besieged Warsaw with 60,000 men. Kosciusko, however, kept up the courage of his countrymen. After two months of bloody fighting, he repelled, with 10,000 men, a general assault. All Great Poland now rose, under Dombrowski, against the Prussians. This circumstance, together with the loss of a body of artillery, compelled the king of Prussia to raise the siege of Warsaw. Thus this bold general, with an army of 20,000 regular troops and 40,000 armed peasants, maintained himself against four hostile armies, amounting together to 150,000 men.

His great power consisted in the confidence which his fellow-citizens reposed in him. The nephew of the king, once his general, served under him. Kosciusko had unlimited power in the republic, but he displayed the integrity of Washington, and the activity of Cæsar. He attended to procuring supplies, superintended the raising and payment of money, and prevented plundering and fraud, and was equally active in the council and the field. His days and nights, all his powers, were devoted to his country. He secured the administration of justice, abolished bondage, and finally restored to the nation, May 29, in the supreme national council which he established, the great power which had been delegated to him. Catharine at length decided the contest by an overwhelming superiority of numbers. Suwaroff defeated the Poles under Sierakowski at Brzec, in Volhynia, September 18th and 19th. Repnin penetrated through Lithuania, and formed a union with Suwaroff; general Fersen was to support them with 12,000 men. To prevent this, Kosciusko marched from Warsaw with 21,000 men. Poninski was to have supported him with his division; but the Russians intercepted the messenger. The united Russian armies under Fersen attacked the Poles, who were not more than one-third as strong as the Russians, October 10, at Macziewice (about 50 miles from Warsaw); they were three times repulsed, but, on the fourth attack, they broke through the Polish lines. Kosciusko fell from his horse covered with wounds, exclaiming ‘Finis Poloniæ’ and was made prisoner by the enemy. In losing him, his country lost all. Suwaroff stormed Praga November 4; Warsaw capitulated on the 9th; Madalinski left Great Poland; an Austrian army appeared before Lublin. But the noble efforts of the conquered had awakened the regard of Europe towards the unhappy country, and the dearest hopes of the nation—​the restoration of their monarchy, with a free constitution—​found a powerful support in public opinion. Catharine caused the hero and his noble colleagues, who were prisoners of war, to be thrown into a state prison. Paul I gave them their liberty, and distinguished Kosciusko by marks of his esteem. He presented his own sword to the general, who declined it with these words—​‘I no longer need a sword, since I have no longer a country.’ To the day of his death, he never again wore a sword. Paul then presented him with 1,500 peasants, and his friend Niemcewicz, the poet, with 1,000. When on the Russian frontier, Kosciusko declined this present by a letter. He and his friend now went by the way of France and London, where Kosciusko was treated with distinction, to America (1797).

His fortune was very small. On his return to his native country after the war of the revolution, he had received a pension from America, and he now found there such a reception as he deserved. In 1798, he went to France. His countrymen in the Italian army presented to him the sabre of John Sobieski, which had been found (1799) at Loretto. Napoleon afterwards formed the plan of restoring Poland to its place among the nations, and thus, at the same time, injuring Russia, and extending his own power over the east of Europe. But Kosciusko would take no part in this struggle, which was conducted by Dombrowski, in 1807–8, being prevented less by ill health than by having given his word to Paul I never to serve against the Russians. To Napoleon’s proposals he answered, that ‘he would exert himself in the cause of Poland, when he saw the country possessed of its ancient territories, and having a free constitution.’ Fouche tried every means to carry him to Poland. An appeal to the Poles, which appeared under his name in the Moniteur of November 1, 1806, he declared to be spurious.

Having purchased an estate in the neighborhood of Fontainebleau, he lived there in retirement until 1814. April 9, 1814, he wrote to the emperor Alexander, to ask of him an amnesty for the Poles in foreign lands, and to request him to become king of Poland, and to give to the country a free constitution, like that of England. In 1815, he traveled with lord Stuart to Italy, and, in 1816, he settled at Soleure. In 1817, he abolished slavery on his estate of Siecnowicze, in Poland. He afterwards lived in retirement, enjoying the society of a few friends. Agriculture was his favorite occupation. A fall with his horse from a precipice, not far from Vevay, occasioned his death, October 16, 1817, at Soleure. He was never married. In 1818, prince Jablonowski, at the expense of the emperor Alexander, removed his body, which, at the request of the senate, the emperor allowed to be deposited in the tomb of the kings at Cracow. A monument was also erected to his memory, and the women went into mourning for his loss.

Nathaniel Greene, a major-general in the American army, was born, May 22, 1742, near the town of Warwick in Rhode Island. His father was an anchor smith, and, at the same time, a Quaker preacher, whose ignorance, combined with the fanaticism of the times, made him pay little attention to the worldly learning of his children, though he was very careful of their moral and religious instruction. The fondness for knowledge, however, of young Greene was such, that he devoted all the time he could spare to its acquisition, and employed all his trifling gains in procuring books. His propensity for the life of a soldier was early evinced by his predilection for works on military subjects. He made considerable proficiency in the exact sciences; and, after he had attained his twentieth year, he added a tolerable stock of legal knowledge to his other acquisitions. In the year 1770, he was elected a member of the state legislature, and, in 1774, enrolled himself as a private in a company called the Kentish Guards. After the battle of Lexington, the state of Rhode Island raised what was termed an army of observation, in order to assist the forces collected in Massachusetts, for the purpose of confining the British within the limits of Boston, and chose Greene its commander, with the title of major-general. His elevation from the ranks to the head of three regiments, may give some idea of the estimation in which his military talents were held. June 6, 1775, he assumed his command before the lines of Boston; and, not long afterwards, General Washington arrived, to take the command in chief of the American forces. Between these two distinguished men an intimacy soon commenced, which was never interrupted. Greene accepted a commission from congress of brigadier-general, although, under the state, he held that of major-general; preferring the former, as it promised a larger sphere of action, and the pleasure of serving under the immediate command of Washington. When the American army had followed the enemy to New York, after the evacuation of Boston, they encamped, partly in New York and partly on Long Island. The division posted upon the island was under the orders of Greene; but, at the time of its unfortunate affair with the enemy, he was suffering under severe sickness, and General Sullivan was in command. When he had sufficiently recovered his health, he joined the retreating army, having previously been promoted to the rank of major-general, and was appointed to command the troops in New Jersey destined to watch the movements of a strong detachment of the British, which had been left in Staten Island. December 26, 1776, when Washington surprised the English at Trenton, Greene commanded the left wing of the American forces, which was the first that reached the town, and, having seized the enemy’s artillery, cut off their retreat to Princeton. Next summer, Sir William Howe having embarked with a large force at New York, for the purpose of landing on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake, and thence marching to Philadelphia, Washington hastened to oppose him; and, September 11, the battle of the Brandywine took place, in which the Americans were defeated. In this affair, Greene commanded the vanguard, together with Sullivan, and it became his duty to cover the retreat, in which he fully succeeded. After General Howe had obtained possession of Philadelphia, the British army, in consequence of this victory, encamped at Germantown, where an attack was made upon it by Washington, October 4, 1777, in which Greene commanded the left wing. The disastrous issue of this attempt is well known; but it has been asserted, that the left wing was the only part of the American army which had the good fortune to effect the service allotted it that day. The next service upon which General Greene was engaged, was that of endeavoring to prevent lord Cornwallis from collecting supplies, for which he had been detached into the Jerseys, with 3000 men; but, before Greene could bring him to an action, he had received reinforcements, which gave him so great a superiority, that the American general was recalled by the commander-in-chief. In March of the following year, Greene, at the solicitation of Washington, accepted the appointment of quarter-master-general, on two conditions; that he should retain his right of command in time of action, and that he should have the choice of two assistants. At the battle of Monmouth, in the ensuing month of June, he led the right wing of the second line, and mainly contributed to the partial success of the Americans. After this, he continued engaged in discharging the duties of his station until August, when he was sent to join Sullivan, who, with the forces under his command, aided by the French fleet under D’Estaing, was preparing to make an attempt upon Newport in Rhode Island, then in possession of the enemy. The command of the left wing of the troops was assigned to Greene. The enterprise, however, failed, in consequence of some misunderstanding between Sullivan and D’Estaign; and the consequent retreat of the American army was covered by Greene, who repulsed an attack of the enemy with half their number. When General Washington, alarmed for the safety of the garrisons on the North river, repaired to West Point, he left Greene in command of the army in New Jersey. The latter had not been long in that command, before he was attacked, near Springfield, by a force much superior to his, under Sir Henry Clinton; but the enemy were repulsed, though they burned the village. This affair happened June 23. October 6, he was appointed to succeed the traitor Arnold in the command at West Point. In this station, however, he continued only until the 14th of the same month, when he was chosen by General Washington to take the place of General Gates, in the chief direction of the southern army. From this moment, when he was placed in a situation where he could exercise his genius without control, dates the most brilliant portion of Greene’s career. The ability, prudence and firmness which he here displayed, have caused him to be ranked, in the scale of our revolutionary generals, second only to Washington. December 2, 1780, Greene arrived at the encampment of the American forces at Charlotte, and, on the 4th, assumed the command. After the battle of the Cowpens, gained by Morgan, January 17, 1781, he effected a junction with the victorious General, having previously been engaged in recruiting his army, which had been greatly thinned by death and desertion; but the numbers of Cornwallis were still so superior, that he was obliged to retreat into Virginia, which he did with a degree of skill that has been the theme of the highest eulogy. He, soon afterwards, however, returned to North Carolina, with an accession of force, and, March 15, encountered Cornwallis at Guilford court-house, where he was defeated; but the loss of the enemy was greater than his, and no advantages accrued to them from the victory. On the contrary, Cornwallis, a few days afterwards, commenced a retrograde movement towards Wilmington, leaving many of his wounded behind him, and was followed for some time by Greene. Desisting, however, from the pursuit, the latter marched into South Carolina, and a battle took place, April 25, between him and lord Rawdon, near Camden, in which he was again unsuccessful, though again the enemy were prevented by him from improving their victory, and, not long after, were obliged to retire. May 22, having previously reduced a number of the forts and garrisons in South Carolina, he commenced the siege of Ninety-Six, but in June the approach of lord Rawdon compelled him to raise it, and retreat to the extremity of the state. Expressing a determination ‘to recover South Carolina, or die in the attempt,’ he again advanced, when the British forces were divided, and lord Rawdon was pursued, in his turn, to his encampment at Orangeburg, where he was offered battle by his adversary, which was refused. September 8, Greene obtained a victory over the British forces under Colonel Stewart, at Eutaw Springs, which completely prostrated the power of the enemy in South Carolina. Greene was presented by congress with a British standard and a gold medal, as a testimony of their sense of his services on this occasion. This was the last action in which Greene was engaged. During the rest of the war, however, he continued in his command, struggling with the greatest difficulties, in consequence of the want of all kinds of supplies, and the mutinous disposition of some of his troops. When peace released him from his duties, he returned to Rhode Island; and his journey thither, almost at every step, was marked by some private or public testimonial of gratitude and regard. On his arrival at Princeton, where congress was then sitting, that body unanimously resolved, that ‘two pieces of field ordnance, taken from the British army at Cowpens, Augusta, or Eutaw,’ should be presented to him by the commander-in-chief. In October, 1785, Greene repaired, with his family, to Georgia, some valuable grants of lands near Savannah having been made to him by that state. He died June 19, 1786, in his 44th year, in consequence of an inflammation of the brain, contracted by exposure to the rays of an intense sun. General Greene possessed, in a great degree, not only the common quality of physical courage, but that fortitude and unbending firmness of mind, which are given to few, and which enabled him to bear up against the most cruel reverses, and struggle perseveringly with, and finally surmount, the most formidable difficulties. He was ever collected in the most trying situations, and prudence and judgment were distinguishing traits in his character. In his disposition, he was mild and benevolent; but when it was necessary, he was resolutely severe. No officer of the revolutionary army possessed a higher place in the confidence and affection of Washington, and, probably, none would have been so well calculated to succeed him, if death had deprived his country of his services during the revolutionary struggle.

Baron von Frederic William Augustus Steuben; a distinguished Prussian officer, who attached himself to the American cause in the revolution of 1776. He had been aid-de-camp to Frederic the Great, and had attained the rank of lieutenant-general in his army. Sacrificing his honors and emoluments in Europe, Steuben came to America in 1777, and tendered his services to congress, as a volunteer in their army, without claiming any rank or compensation. He received the thanks of that body, and joined the main army under the commander-in-chief at Valley Forge. Baron Steuben soon rendered himself particularly useful to the Americans, by disciplining the forces. On the recommendation of general Washington, congress, in May 1778, appointed the baron inspector-general of the army, with the rank of major-general. His efforts in this capacity were continued with remarkable diligence, until he had placed the troops in a situation to withstand the enemy. In the estimates of the war office, 5000 extra muskets were generally allowed for the waste and destruction in the army; but such was the exact order under the superintendence of Steuben, that in his inspection return, but three muskets were deficient, and those accounted for. A complete scheme of exercise and discipline, which he composed, was adopted in the army by the direction of congress. He possessed the right of command in the line, and at one period was at the head of a separate detachment in Virginia. At the battle of Monmouth he was engaged as a volunteer. When reviewing the troops, it was his constant custom to reward the disciplined soldier with praise, and to pass severe censure upon the negligent. Numerous anecdotes are related illustrative of the generosity, purity and kindness of his disposition. After the treacherous defection of Arnold, the baron held his name in the utmost abhorrence. One day, he was inspecting a regiment of light horse, when that name struck his ear. The man was ordered to the front, and presented an excellent appearance. Steuben told him that he was too respectable to bear the name of a traitor; and at his request the soldier adopted that of the baron, whose bounty he afterwards experienced, and brought up a son by the same name.

At the siege of Yorktown, baron Steuben was in the trenches at the head of a division, where he received the first offer of lord Cornwallis to capitulate. The marquis de Lafayette appeared to relieve him in the morning; but, adhering to the European etiquette, the baron would not quit his post until the surrender was completed or hostilities recommenced. The matter being referred to general Washington, the baron was suffered to remain in the trenches till the enemy’s flag was struck. After the capture of Cornwallis, when the superior American officers were paying every attention to their captives, Steuben sold his favorite horse in order to raise money to give an entertainment to the British officers, as the other major-generals had previously done. His watch he had previously disposed of to relieve the wants of a sick friend. On another occasion, when he desired to reciprocate the invitations of the French officers, he ordered his people to sell his silver spoons and forks saying it was anti-republican to make use of such things, and adding, that the gentlemen should have one good dinner if he ate his meals with a wooden spoon for ever after. Steuben continued in the army till the close of the war, perfecting its discipline. The silence and dexterity of his movements surprised the French allies. He possessed the particular esteem of general Washington, who took every proper opportunity to recommend him to congress; from which body he received several sums of money, that were chiefly expended in acts of charity, or in rewarding the good conduct of the soldiers.

Upon the disbandment of the continental army at Newburgh, many affectionate bonds, formed amidst the danger and hardships of a long and arduous service, were to be broken asunder for ever. At this season of distress, the benevolent Steuben exerted himself to alleviate the forlorn condition of many. He gave his last dollar to a wounded black, to procure him a passage home. Peace being established, the baron retired to a farm in the vicinity of New York, where, in the society of his friends, and the amusements of books and chess, he passed his time as comfortably as his exhausted purse would allow. The state of New Jersey had given him a small farm, and that of New York 16,000 acres of land in the country of Oneida. The exertions of colonel Hamilton and general Washington subsequently procured him an annuity of $2500, from the general government. He built a log house, and cleared 60 acres of his tract of land, a portion of which he partitioned out, on easy terms, to twenty or thirty tenants, and distributed nearly a tenth among his aid-de-camps and servants. In this situation he lived contentedly, until the year 1795, when an apoplectic attack put an end to his life, in his sixty-fifth year. An abstract of his system of military manœuvres was published in 1779. The year preceding his death, he published a letter on the established militia and military arrangements.

Baron De Kalb, a major-general in the American army, was born in Germany, about the year 1717. When young, he entered into the service of France, in which he continued for 42 years, and obtained the rank of brigadier-general. In 1757, during the war between England and France, he was sent, by the French government, to the American colonies, in order to learn the points in which they were most vulnerable, and how far the seeds of discontent might be sown in them towards the mother country. He was seized, while in the performance of this commission, as a suspected person, but escaped detection. He then went to Canada, where he remained until its conquest by the British, after which he returned to France. In 1777, during the war of the revolution, he came a second time to the U. States, and offered his services to congress. They were accepted, and he was soon after made a major-general. At first he was placed in the northern army, but when the danger which threatened Charleston from the formidable expedition under sir Henry Clinton, in 1778, rendered it necessary to reinforce the American troops in the south, a detachment was sent to them, consisting of the Maryland and Delaware lines, which were put under his command. Before he could arrive, however, at the scene of action, general Lincoln had been made prisoner, and the direction of the whole southern army in consequence devolved upon the baron, until the appointment of general Gates. August 15th, Gates was defeated near Camden by lord Rawdon, and in the battle, baron de Kalb, who commanded the right wing, fell, covered with wounds, while gallantly fighting on foot. A tomb was erected to his memory, by order of congress, in the cemetery of Camden.

Richard Montgomery, a major-general in the army of the U. States, was born in 1737, in the north of Ireland. He embraced the profession of arms, and served under Wolfe, at Quebec, in 1759; but, on his return to England, he left his regiment, although his prospects for promotion were fair. He then removed to America, for which country he entertained a deep affection; he purchased an estate in New York, about 100 miles from the city, and married a daughter of judge Livingston. His feelings in favor of America were so well known, that, on the commencement of the revolutionary struggle, he was entrusted with the command of the continental forces in the northern department, in conjunction with general Schuyler. The latter, however, fell sick, and the chief command in consequence, devolved upon Montgomery, who, after various successes (the reduction of fort Chamblee, the capture of St. John’s, and of Montreal), proceeded to the siege of Quebec. This he commenced Dec. 1, 1775, after having formed a junction with colonel Arnold, at Point-aux-Trembles; but, as his artillery was not of sufficient calibre to make the requisite impression, he determined upon attempting the capture of the place by storm. He made all his arrangements, and advanced, at the head of the New York troops, along the St. Lawrence. He assisted, with his own hands, in pulling up the pickets that obstructed his approach to the second barrier, which he was resolved to force, when the only gun fired from the battery of the enemy killed him and his two aid-de-camps. The three fell at the same time, and rolled upon the ice formed on the river. The next day his body was brought into Quebec, and buried without any mark of distinction. Congress directed a monument, with an inscription, to be erected to his memory, and placed in front of St. Paul’s church, in New York, and, July 8, 1818, his remains were brought from Quebec, in consequence of a resolve of the state of New York, and interred near the monument. General Montgomery was gifted with fine abilities, and had received an excellent education. His military talents, especially, were great; his measures were taken with judgment, and executed with vigor The sorrow for his loss was heightened by the esteem which his amiable character had gained him. At the period of his death, he was only 38 years of age.

Gilbert Motier Lafayette, (formerly marquis de,) was born at Chavagnac, near Brioude, in Auvergne, Sept. 6, 1757, was educated in the college of Louis le Grand, in Paris, placed at court as an officer in one of the guards of honor, and, at the age of 17, was married to the granddaughter of the duke de Noailles. It was under these circumstances that the young marquis de Lafayette entered upon a career so little to be expected of a youth of vast fortune, of high rank, of powerful connections, at the most brilliant and fascinating court in the world. He left France secretly for America, in 1777, and arrived at Charleston, South Carolina, April 25, being then 19 years old. The state of this country, it is well known, was at that time most gloomy: a feeble army, without clothing or arms, was with difficulty kept together before a victorious enemy; the government was without resources or credit, and the American agents in Paris were actually obliged to confess that they could not furnish the young nobleman with a conveyance. ‘Then,’ said he, ‘I will fit out a vessel myself;’ and he did so. The sensation produced in this country, by his arrival, was very great: it encouraged the almost disheartened people to hope for succor and sympathy from one of the most powerful nations in Europe. Immediately on his arrival, Lafayette received the offer of a command in the continental army, but declined it, raised and equipped a body of men at his own expense, and then entered the service as a volunteer without pay. He lived in the family of the commander-in-chief, and won his full affection and confidence. He was appointed major-general in July, and, in September, was wounded at Brandywine. He was employed in Pennsylvania and Rhode Island in 1778, and, after receiving the thanks of his country for his important services, embarked at Boston, in January, 1779, for France, where it was thought that he could assist the cause more effectually for a time. The treaty concluded between France and America, about the same period, was, by his personal exertions, made effective in our favor, and he returned to America with the intelligence that a French force would soon be sent to this country. Immediately on his arrival, he entered the service, and received the command of a body of infantry of about 2000 men, which he clothed and equipped, in part, at his own expense. His forced march to Virginia, in December, 1780, raising 2000 guineas at Baltimore, on his own credit, to supply the wants of his troops; his rescue of Richmond; his long trial of generalship with Cornwallis, who boasted that ‘the boy could not escape him;’ the siege of Yorktown, and the storming of the redoubt, are proofs of his devotion to the cause of American independence. Desirous of serving that cause at home, he again returned to France for that purpose. Congress, which had already acknowledged his merits on former occasions, now passed new resolutions, Nov. 23, 1781, in which, besides the usual marks of approbation, they desired the American ministers to confer with him in their negotiations. In France, a brilliant reputation had preceded him, and he was received with the highest marks of public admiration. Still he urged upon his government the necessity of negotiating with a powerful force in America, and succeeded in obtaining orders to this effect. On his arrival in Cadiz, he found 49 ships with 20,000 men, ready to follow him to America, had not peace rendered it unnecessary. A letter from him communicated the first intelligence of that event to congress. The importance of his services in France may be seen by consulting his letters in the Correspondence of the American Revolution, (Boston, 1831.) He received pressing invitations, however, to revisit the country. Washington in particular, urged it strongly; and, for the third time, Lafayette landed in the United States, Aug. 4, 1784. After passing a few days at Mount Vernon, he visited Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, etc., and was everywhere received with the greatest enthusiasm and delight. Previous to his return to France, congress appointed a deputation, consisting of one member from each state, ‘to take leave of him on behalf of the country, and assure him that these United States regard him with particular affection, and will not cease to feel an interest in whatever may concern his honor and prosperity.’ After his return, he was engaged in endeavoring to mitigate the condition of the Protestants in France, and to effect the abolition of slavery. In the assembly of the notables, in 1787, he proposed the suppression of lettres de cachet, and of the state-prisons, the emancipation of the Protestants, and the convocation of the representatives of the nation. When asked by the count D’Artois, since Charles X, if he demanded the states-general—​‘Yes,’ was his reply, ‘and something better.’ Being elected a member of the states-general, which took the name of national assembly (1789), he proposed a declaration of rights, and the decree providing for the responsibility of the officers of the crown. Two days after the attack on the Bastile, he was appointed (July 15) commander-in-chief of the national guards of Paris. The court and national assembly were still at Versailles, and the populace of Paris, irritated at this, had already adopted, in sign of opposition, a blue and red cockade (being the colors of the city of Paris). July 26, Lafayette added to this cockade the white of the royal arms, declaring at the same time that the tri-color should go round the world. On the march of the populace to Versailles (October 5 and 6), the national guards clamored to be led thither. Lafayette refused to comply with their demand, until, having received orders in the afternoon, he set off, and arrived at 10 o’clock, after having been on horseback from before daylight. He requested that the interior posts of the chateau might be committed to him; but this request was refused, and the outer posts only were entrusted to the national guards. This was the night on which the assassins murdered two of the queen’s guards, and were proceeding to further acts of violence, when Lafayette, at the head of the national troops, put an end to the disorder, and saved the lives of the royal family. In the morning he accompanied them to Paris. On the establishment of the Jacobin club at Paris, he organized, with Bailly, then mayor of Paris, the opposing club of Feuillans. Jan. 20, 1790, he supported the motion for the abolition of titles of nobility, from which period he renounced his own, and has never since resumed it. The constitution of a representative monarchy, which was the object of his wishes, was now proposed, and July 13, 1790, was appointed for its acceptance by the king and the nation, and, in the name of 4,000,000 national guards, Lafayette swore fidelity to the constitution. Declining the dangerous power of constable of France, or generalissimo of the national guards of the kingdom, after having organized the national militia, and defended the king from the popular violence, he resigned all command, and retired to his estates. The first coalition against France (1792) soon called him from his retirement. Being appointed one of the three major-generals in the command of the French armies, he established discipline, and defeated the enemy at Philippeville, Maubeuge and Florennes, when his career of success was interrupted by the domestic factions of his country. Lafayette openly denounced the terrible Jacobins, in his letter of June 16, in which he declared that the enemies of the revolution, under the mask of popular leaders, were endeavoring to stifle liberty under the excesses of licentiousness. June 20, he appeared at the bar of the assembly, to vindicate his conduct, and demand the punishment of the guilty authors of the violence. But the Mountain had already overthrown the constitution, and nothing could be effected. Lafayette then offered to conduct the king and his family to Compiègne. This proffer being declined, he returned to the army, which he endeavored to rally round the constitution. June 30, he was burnt in effigy at the Palais-Royal, and Aug. 5, was accused of treason before the assembly. Still he declared himself openly against the proceedings of August 10; but, finding himself unsupported by his soldiers, he determined to leave the country, and take refuge in some neutral ground. Some persons have charged general Lafayette with a want of firmness at this period; but it is without a full understanding of the situation of things. Conscious that a price was set on his head at home, knowing that his troops would not support him against the principles which were triumphing in the clubs and the assembly, and sensible that, even if he were able to protract the contest with the victorious faction, the frontiers would be exposed to the invasions of the emigrants and their foreign allies, with whom he would have felt it treason against the nation to have negotiated, he had no alternative. Having been captured by an Austrian patrol, he was delivered to the Prussians, by whom he was again transferred to Austria. He was carried, with great secrecy, to Olmutz, where he was subjected to every privation and suffering, and cut off from all communication with his friends, who were not even able to discover the place of his confinement until late in 1794. An unsuccessful attempt was made to deliver him from prison by Dr. Bollman, a German, and colonel Huger, of Charleston, S. C. His wife and daughters, however, succeeded in obtaining admission to him, and remained with him nearly two years, till his release. Washington had written directly to the emperor of Austria on his behalf, without effect; but, after the memorable campaign of Bonaparte in Italy, the French government required that the prisoners at Olmutz should be released, which was done Aug. 25, 1797, after a negotiation that lasted three months. Refusing to take any part in the revolutions of the 18th Fructidor, or of the 18th Brumaire, he returned to his estate at La Grange, and, declining the dignity of senator, offered him by Bonaparte, he gave his vote against the consulate for life, and, taking no further part in public affairs, devoted himself to agricultural pursuits. On the restoration of the Bourbons, in 1814, he perceived that their principles of government were not such as France required, and he did not therefore leave his retirement. The 20th of March, 1815, again saw Napoleon on the imperial throne, and endeavoring to conciliate the nation by the profession of liberal principles Lafayette refused, though urged, through the medium of Joseph, to see him, protested against the acte additionnel of April 22, declined the peerage offered him by the emperor, but accepted the place of representative, to which the votes of his fellow-citizens called him. He first met Napoleon at the opening of the chambers: the emperor received him with great marks of kindness, to which, however, he did not respond; but, although he would take no part in the projects of Napoleon, he gave his vote for all necessary supplies, on the ground that France was invaded, and that it was the duty of all Frenchmen to defend their country. June 21, Napoleon returned from Waterloo, and it was understood that it was determined to dissolve the house of representatives, and establish a dictatorship. Two of his counselors informed Lafayette that in two hours the representative body would cease to exist. Immediately on the opening of the session, he ascended the tribune, and addressed the house as follows: ‘When, for the first time after an interval of many years, I raise a voice which all the old friends of liberty will still recognize, it is to speak of the dangers of the country, which you only can save. This, then, is the moment for us to rally round the old tri-colored standard, the standard of ‘89, of liberty, of equality, of public order, which we have now to defend against foreign violence, and domestic usurpation.’ He then moved that the house declare itself in permanent session, and all attempts to dissolve it high treason; that whoever should make such an attempt, should be considered a traitor, etc. In the evening, Napoleon sent Lucien to the house, to make one more effort in his favor. Lucien, in a strain of impassioned eloquence, conjured the house not to compromise the honor of the French nation by inconstancy to the emperor. At these words, Lafayette rose in his place, and, addressing himself directly to the orator, exclaimed, ‘Who dares accuse the French nation of inconstancy to the emperor? Through the sands of Egypt, and the wastes of Russia, over 50 fields of battle, this nation has followed him devotedly; and it is for this that we now mourn the blood of three millions of Frenchmen.’

This appeal had such an effect on the assembly, that Lucien resumed his seat without finishing his discourse. A deputation of five members from each house was then appointed to deliberate in committee with the council of ministers. Of this deputation, general Lafayette was a member, and he moved that a committee should be sent to the emperor to demand his abdication. The arch-chancellor refused to put the motion; but the emperor sent in his abdication the next morning (June 22). A provisional government was formed, and Lafayette was sent to demand a suspension of hostilities of the allies, which was refused. On his return, he found Paris in possession of the enemy; and, a few days after (July 8), the doors of the representatives’ chamber were closed, and guarded by Prussian troops. Lafayette conducted a number of the members to the house of Lanjuinais, the president, where they drew up a protest against this act of violence, and quietly separated. Lafayette now retired once more to La Grange, where he remained till 1818, when he was chosen member of the chamber of deputies. Here he continued to support his constitutional principles, by opposing the laws of exception, the establishment of the censorship of the press, the suspension of personal liberty, etc, and by advocating the cause of public instruction, the organization of a national militia, and the inviolability of the charter.

In August, 1824, he landed at New York, on a visit to the United States, upon the invitation of the president, and was received, in every part of the country, with the warmest expressions of delight and enthusiasm. He was proclaimed, by the popular voice, ‘the guest of the nation,’ and his presence was everywhere the signal for festivals and rejoicings. He passed through the 24 states of the Union in a sort of triumphal procession, in which all parties joined to forget their dissensions, in which the veterans of the war renewed their youth, and the young were carried back to the doings and sufferings of their fathers. Having celebrated, at Bunker hill, the anniversary of the first conflict of the revolution, and, at Yorktown, that of its closing scene, in which he himself had borne so conspicuous a part, and taken leave of the four ex-presidents of the United States, he received the farewell of the president in the name of the nation, and sailed from the capital in a frigate named, in compliment to him, the Brandywine, September 7, 1825, and arrived at Havre, where the citizens, having peaceably assembled to make some demonstration of their respect for his character, were dispersed by the gendarmerie. In December preceding, the congress of the United States made him a grant of $200,000, and a township of land, ‘in consideration of his important services and expenditures during the American revolution.’ The grant of money was in the shape of stock, bearing interest at six per cent., and redeemable December 31, 1834. In August, 1827, he attended the obsequies of Manuel, over whose body he pronounced a eulogy. In November, the chamber of deputies was dissolved. Lafayette was again returned a member by the new elections. Shortly before the revolution of 1830, he traveled to Lyons, etc., and was enthusiastically received—​a striking contrast to the conduct of the ministers towards him, and an alarming symptom to the despotic government. During the revolution of July, 1830, he was appointed general-in-chief of the national guards of Paris, and, though not personally engaged in the fight, his activity and name were of the greatest service. To the Americans, Lafayette, the intimate friend of Washington, had appeared, in his late visit, almost like a great historical character returning from beyond the grave. In the eyes of the French, he was a man of the early days of their revolution—​a man, moreover, who never changed side or principle. His undeviating consistency is acknowledged by all, even by those who do not allow him the possession of first rate talents. When the national guards were established throughout France, after the termination of the struggle, he was appointed their commander-in-chief, and his activity in this post was admirable. August 17, he was made marshal of France. His influence with the government seems to have been, for some time, great, but whether his principles were too decidedly republican to please the new authorities (a few days after the adoption of the new charter, he declared himself against hereditary peerage, and repeatedly called himself a pupil of the American school), or whether he was considered as the rallying point of the republican party, or whatever may have been the reason, he sent in his resignation in December, 1830, which was accepted, and count Lobau appointed chief of the national guards of Paris. Lafayette declared from the tribune, that he had acted thus in consequence of the distrust which the power accompanying his situation seemed to excite in some people. On the same occasion, he also expressed his disappprobation of the new law of election. Shortly before his resignation, he exerted himself most praiseworthily to maintain order during the trial of the ex-ministers. The Poles made him first grenadier of the Polish national guards. He died at Paris, May 18, 1834. Regnault-Warin’s Memoires sur le General Lafayette (Paris, 1824), contains many facts relative to his political life in France. His secretary, M. Levasseur, published an account of his tour in the United States (Paris, 1825), which has been translated in America.

Israel Putnam, a distinguished soldier in the French and English wars, and subsequently in that of the revolution, was born of English parents, at Salem, in the then province of Massachusetts, Jan. 7th, 1718. Being intended for a farmer, he received only a common education. He had a strong mind, vigorous constitution, great bodily strength, enterprise and activity, excelled in athletic exercises, and, while a stripling, was ambitious of performing the full labor of manhood. He married very young, and removed, in 1739, to Pomfret, in Connecticut, where he had purchased a tract of land. During his residence there, his flocks and those of his neighbors being terribly thinned by a monstrous she wolf, Putnam with a few associates, traced the ferocious animal to a deep cavern in a rock. Into this he crept alone, with a torch in one hand and a musket in the other, and, at the utmost personal risk, destroyed the creature. When the war of 1755 broke out between France and England, he was appointed, at the age of thirty-seven, commander of a company, enlisted the necessary number of recruits from the young men in his vicinity, and joined the army then commencing the campaign near Crown Point. His services as a partisan officer were unremitting and great, and caused him to be promoted, in 1757, to the rank of major, by the legislature of Connecticut. In 1758, he fell into the Indian ambuscade, and was taken prisoner, when returning to Fort Edward from an expedition to watch the enemy’s movements near Ticonderoga. The Indians were about to burn him to death, having already tied him to a tree and set fire to a circle of combustibles around him, when he was rescued by the interposition of their leader, Molang, a famous French partisan officer. He was then carried to Ticonderoga, where he underwent an examination before the Marquis De Montcalm, who ordered him to Montreal. There he found several fellow prisoners, among whom was colonel Peter Schuyler, who immediately visited, and found him almost destitute of clothing and dreadfully wounded and bruised. The colonel supplied him with money and, having clothed himself in a decent garb, he was immediately treated with the respect due his rank. An exchange of prisoners procured Putnam his liberty. He resumed his military duties, and, having been previously appointed a lieutenant-colonel, rendered especial service at the siege of Montreal by the British, in 1760. In 1762, after war had been declared between England and Spain, he accompanied the expedition, under Lord Albemarle, against the Havana. In 1764, having been appointed colonel, he marched, at the head of a regiment, with general Bradstreet, against the savages of the western frontier. On his return from this expedition, which resulted in a treaty between the contending parties, he betook himself, once more, to a country life, filled several offices in his native town, to represent it in the general assembly. In 1770, he went, with general Lyman and some others, to explore a grant of land on the Mississippi. General Lyman died there; but Putnam returned after having made some improvements on his tract. When hostilities commenced between England and the colonies (April 18th, 1775,) Putnam received the intelligence as he was plowing in the middle of a field; he left his plow there, unyoked his team, and, without changing his clothes, set off for the scene of action. Finding the British shut up and closely invested with a sufficient force in Boston, he returned to Connecticut, levied a regiment under colonial authority, and marched to Cambridge. His colony now appointed him a major-general on the provincial staff, and congress soon after confirmed to him the same rank on the continental. About this time the British offered him the rank of a major-general in his majesty’s army, with a pecuniary remuneration for his treason; but the temptation could not influence him. In the several preparatory operations for the battle of Bunker’s hill, he took an active part. After the commencement of the retreat at the battle of Bunker’s hill, Putnam arrived on the field with a reinforcement, and performed everything to be expected from a brave and experienced officer; the enemy pursued the retreating Americans to Winter hill, but Putnam halted there, and drove them back, under cover of their ships. On the evacuation of Boston, March 17th 1776, the greater part of the forces were dispatched to New York, and Putnam was, some time after, sent thither to take upon him the command. After the disastrous action on Long Island, and general Washington’s masterly retreat from thence, Putnam was nominated to the command of the right grand division of the army. He served some time in the vicinity of New York and was sent to the western side of the Hudson, and shortly after, to suprintend the fortifications of Philadelphia. After the battles of Trenton and Princeton, he was posted at Princeton, where he continued till the ensuing spring, with a very inferior force, guarding a considerable extent of frontier, curtailing and harrassing the enemy, without sustaining the least disaster. During his stay at Princeton, by attacking the foraging parties of the enemy and assemblages of the disaffected who infested his vicinity, he captured nearly a thousand prisoners.

In the spring of 1777, he was appointed to the command of a separate army in the highlands of New York. There was no regular enemy in this neighborhood, but the country around was filled with tories, and a species of banditti, called cow-boys, who committed shocking depredations. Many of the tories clandestinely traversed the country, with messages from one British army to another, and even on recruiting expeditions for the royal service. One of them, a lieutenant in the new tory levies, was detected in the American camp, and reclaimed by governor Tryon, his commander, with threats of vengeance in case of his punishment. He received this laconic answer from general Putnam: ‘Sir: Nathan Palmer, a lieutenant in your king’s service, was taken in my camp as a spy; he was tried as a spy; he was condemned as a spy; and you may rest assured, Sir, he shall be hanged as a spy.… P. S. Afternoon. He is hanged.’ After the capture of Fort Montgomery, Putnam selected West Point as the best calculated site for a fortress to protect the river. The reputation it afterwards attained, evinced the judiciousness of this selection. After the battle of Monmouth, Putnam was posted, for the winter, at Reading in Connecticut, that he might protect the country adjoining to the Sound, and the garrison at West Point. While he was on a visit to one of his outposts governor Tryon advanced upon him with 1500 men. Putnam had with him but 150 men and two field-pieces, with which he kept the enemy at bay some time. At length, seeing the enemy preparing to charge, he ordered his men to retire to a swamp, while he plunged down a precipice so steep as to have artificial steps, nearly one hundred in number, for the use of foot passengers. The enemy’s dragoons stopped short, afraid to venture, although within a sword’s length of him. While they went round the brow of the hill to gain the valley, he raised a force sufficiently strong to pursue Tryon on his retreat. In the campaign of 1779, he commanded the Maryland line, stationed near West Point. In the autumn of this year, the American army retired into winter quarters, at Morristown, and Putnam accompanied his family into Connecticut for a few weeks. At the commencement of his journey from thence to Morristown, while on the road between Pomfret and Hartford, he was seized with an extraordinary numbness of his right hand and foot, which crept gradually upon him, until his right side became, in a considerable degree, paralyzed. This severe affliction produced a transient depression of his mind; but he conquered his dejection, and resumed his naturally cheerful temper. He was still able to walk and ride moderately, and the faculties of his mind were unimpaired. In this situation he lived to see his country enjoying that independence of which he had been so able a champion, and died at Brookline, in Connecticut, May 29th 1790, aged seventy-two years.

Stephen Decatur, a celebrated American naval officer, was born January 5, 1779, on the eastern shore of Maryland, whither his parents had retired while the British were in Philadelphia. He entered the American navy in March, 1798, and was soon promoted to the rank of first lieutenant. While at Syracuse, attached to the squadron of commodore Preble, he was first informed of the fate of the American frigate Philadelphia, which, in pursuing a Tripolitan corsair, ran on a rock about four and a half miles from Tripoli, and was taken by the Tripolitans, and towed into the harbor. Lieutenant Decatur conceived the project of attempting her recapture or destruction. He selected, for this purpose, a ketch, and manned her with 70 volunteers. February 16, 1804, at 7 o’clock at night, he entered the harbor of Tripoli, boarded the frigate, though she had all her guns mounted and charged, and was lying within half-gun shot of the bashaw’s castle and of his principal battery. Two Tripolitan cruisers were lying within two cables’ length, on the starboard quarter and several gun-boats within half-gun-shot on the starboard bow, and all the batteries upon the shore were opened upon the assailants. Decatur set fire to the frigate, and continued alongside until her destruction was certain. For this exploit, the American congress voted him thanks and a sword, and the president immediately sent him a captaincy. The next spring, it being resolved to make an attack upon Tripoli, commodore Preble equipped six gun-boats and two bombards, formed them into two divisions, and gave the command of one of them to captain Decatur. The enemy’s gun-boats were moored along the mouth of the harbor, under the batteries, and within musket-shot. Captain Decatur determined to board the enemy’s eastern division, consisting of nine. He boarded in his own boat, and carried two of the enemy’s boats in succession. When he boarded the second boat, he immediately attacked her commander, who was his superior in size and strength, and, his sword being broken, he seized the Turk, when a violent scuffle ensued. The Turk threw him, and drew a dirk for the purpose of stabbing him, when Decatur, having a small pistol in his right pocket, took hold of it, and, turning it as well as he could, so as to take effect upon his antagonist, cocked it, fired through his pocket, and killed him. When Commodore Preble was superseded in the command of the squadron, he gave the frigate Constitution to Decatur, who was afterwards removed to the Congress, and returned home in her when peace was concluded with Tripoli. He succeeded commodore Barron in the command of the Chesapeake, after the attack made upon her by the British man-of-war Leopard. He was afterwards transferred to the frigate United States. In the war between Great Britain and the United States, while commanding the frigate United States, he fell in, Oct. 25, 1812, with the Macedonian, mounting 49 carriage-guns, one of the finest of the British vessels of her class, and captured her after an engagement of an hour and a half. When captain Carden, the commander of the Macedonian, tendered him his sword, he observed that he could not think of taking the sword of an officer who had defended his ship so gallantly, but should be happy to take him by the hand. In a letter written five days after the capture, he says, “I need not tell you that I have done every thing in my power to soothe and console captain Carden; for, really, one half the pleasure of this little victory is destroyed in witnessing the mortification of a brave man, who deserved success quite as much as we did who obtained it.” In January, 1814, commodore Decatur, in the United States, with his prize the Macedonian, then equipped as an American frigate, was blockaded at New London by a British squadron greatly superior in force. A challenge which he sent to the commander of the British squadron, sir Thomas Hardy, offering to meet two of the British frigates with his two ships, was declined. In January, 1815, he attempted to set sail from New York, which was blockaded by four British ships; but the frigate under his command, the President, was injured in passing the bar, and was captured by the whole squadron, after having maintained a running fight of two hours and a half with one of the frigates, the Endymion, which was dismantled and silenced. After the conclusion of peace, he was restored to his country, in 1815. The conduct of the Barbary powers, and of Algiers in particular, having been insulting to the United States, on the ratification of peace with Great Britain, war was declared against Algiers, and a squadron was fitted out, under the command of commodore Decatur, for the purpose of obtaining redress. In the spring of 1815, he set sail, and, June 17, off cape de Gatt, captured an Algerine frigate, after a running fight of 25 minutes, in which the famous admiral Rais Hammida, who had long been the terror of the Mediterranean sea, fell. The American squadron arrived at Algiers June 28. In less than 48 hours, Decatur terrified the regency into his own terms, which were, mainly, that no tribute should ever be required, by Algiers, from the United States of America; that all Americans in slavery should be given up without ransom; that compensation should be made for American property seized; that all citizens of the United States, taken in war, should be treated as prisoners of war are by other nations, and not as slaves, but held subject to an exchange without ransom. After concluding this treaty, he proceeded to Tunis, where he obtained indemnity for the outrages exercised or permitted by the bashaw. Thence he went to Tripoli, where he made a similar demand with like success, and procured the release of 10 captives, Danes and Neapolitans. He arrived at the United States Nov. 12, 1815, was subsequently appointed one of the board of navy commissioners, and was residing at Washington, in that capacity, when he was killed in a duel with commodore Barron, March 22, 1820, occasioned by his animadversions on the conduct of the latter. Courage, sagacity, energy, self-possession, and a high sense of honor, were the characteristic traits of Decatur. From his boyhood, he was remarkable for the qualities which presage eminence in naval warfare. He enjoyed the sea as his element. He possessed an active, muscular frame, a quick and penetrating eye, and a bold, adventurous and ambitious spirit.

Commodore Isaac Hull, was born in Connecticut, March 9th 1775. His father was an officer in the American army during the whole of the revolutionary war, and was detained for a long time a prisoner in the Jersey prison-ship. Commodore Hull’s passion for the sea was very early displayed, and became stronger as he grew up. With the hope of diverting his attention to other pursuits, he was sent by his friends to his uncle, General William Hull, at Boston, where he went to school. The object desired, however, not having been accomplished, they consented to his making a voyage. This proved a disastrous one; the vessel in which he sailed being wrecked on the coast of Ireland. He nevertheless returned home fortified in his resolution of leading the life of a seaman, which his family no longer opposed. At the age of 19, he already commanded a ship to London. On the passage of a bill by Congress for the increase of the navy, he made application for a lieutenantcy in the U. S. service, and devoted himself assiduously, while awaiting the decision of the government in his case, to the studies necessary for the naval profession. He was commissioned as a lieutenant on the 9th of March 1798, the day on which he completed his 23d year. He was ordered to the frigate Constitution, then preparing for sea at Boston. For a period of about four years, he was occupied in cruising on the West India station, for the protection of American merchantmen going to or returning from the Windward Islands. In 1808, he distinguished himself by cutting out of the harbor of Port Platte, in the island of Hayti, the French letter of marque, the Sandwich; an enterprise executed with great gallantry and spirit, and without any loss to the assailants. On the return of the Constitution to Boston, Lieutenant Hull was directed to superintend the repairs of the ship; but before this service was completed, he was ordered to proceed as first lieutenant of the frigate Adams to the Mediterranean. He subsequently commanded the schooner Enterprise of 12 guns, and rendered in her effectual aid to Captain Rodgers in the John Adams, in capturing a large corsair before the harbor of Tripoli. The next vessel that he was appointed to command was the Argus of 16 guns, which was in 1804; in which year, also, he was promoted to the rank of a master-commandant. He was made a captain in 1806. In the Argus, he cruised for some time off the coast of Morocco to watch the movements of corsairs in the ports of that state; and after rejoining Commodore Preble’s squadron off Tripoli, he was ordered to the Bay of Naples, and charged with the protection of American property in the event of the French gaining possession of that city. The next office intrusted to him was the conveying, on board of his vessel, of General Eaton and his officers to Alexandria, in Egypt. He at length returned to the United States, after an absence of four years and three months, and was immediately ordered to superintend the construction of gun-boats, in pursuance of the system adopted during the administration of President Jefferson. He was successively appointed to the command of the Norfolk Navy-Yard, and gun-boats on that station; to the command of the frigate Chesapeake; to that of the Constitution, in which vessel he conveyed to France, Mr. Barlow, the American minister to Napoleon; and to that of the navy-yard and gun-boats in the harbor of New York. At the commencement of the war of 1812, Captain Hull was appointed once more to command the Constitution frigate. He sailed in her from Annapolis on the 12th of July; and in the course of a few days an opportunity was afforded him of exhibiting a specimen of skillful seamanship and naval manœuvring, of so extraordinary a nature as to excite the admiration even of the enemy. After a chase of nearly three days, and as many nights, he succeeded in effecting his escape from a British squadron consisting of the Africa 64 gun-ship, 4 frigates and a brig. On the 19th of the following month, he had the good fortune to encounter the Guerriere, one of the frigates of this squadron, single-handed. There is, perhaps, no instance on record of a greater execution having been performed by an equal force, and in an equal time, in naval warfare, than was done by the Constitution on the present occasion. Although there was an interval of about two hours between the firing of the first and the last shot, the battle was really won in a fourth part of that time. Of the Americans 14 only, of the British 79, were killed or wounded; and while the Constitution was so little injured as to be ready to engage another frigate immediately afterwards, had she been called upon to do so, the Guerriere was completely dismasted, and reduced to a mere wreck. On his return into port, Captain Hull gave up the command of the Constitution, ‘with a feeling,’ to use the words of Mr. Cooper, ‘that was highly creditable to him, in order to allow others an equal chance to distinguish themselves; there being unfortunately many more captains than vessels in the navy at that trying moment.’ He was then appointed to the command of the navy-yard at Boston, and about a year afterwards was transferred to that at Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, where he remained until he was selected to be one of the first Navy Commissioners. After holding this office for a few months only, he accepted once more the command of the Boston station, and remained there eight years. At the expiration of this time, he was sent, in the frigate United States, to command the American squadron in the Pacific Ocean. Returning home in three or four years, he was ordered to the command of the Washington Navy-Yard. There he spent seven years, and, having obtained leave of absence, went to Europe with his family, and continued abroad two years. Upon his return, he was employed on various courts-martial, and other duties, for about 12 months. He was then appointed to the command of the line-of-battle-ship Ohio, and of the Mediterranean squadron; which cruise lasted nearly three years. Commodore Hull, finding his health to have become seriously impaired by the unremitted and arduous duties which he had been called upon to perform, asked for, and had granted to him, an unconditional leave of absence from the naval service. He established himself in the city of Philadelphia in the month of October 1842. And he died here on the 13th of February 1843. He was ever exemplary in the performance of his private, as of his public duties; and the modesty, amiability, and courtesy, of his intercourse with others, as strikingly characterized him as did his self-possession and intrepidity in danger.

Oliver Hazard Perry, a distinguished American naval officer, was born at Newport, Rhode Island, in August, 1785. His father was an officer in the United States navy, and he was early destined to follow his father’s profession. In 1798, he entered the service as a midshipman on board the sloop of war General Greene, then commanded by his father; and, when that vessel went out of commission, he was transferred to a squadron destined to the Mediterranean. He served during the Tripolitan war, and, though debarred, by his extreme youth, from an opportunity of distinguishing himself, he acquired, by his conduct, the regard and favor of his superior officers, and the friendship and esteem of his associates. Continuing sedulously attentive to his profession, he rose with sure and regular steps. In 1810, he was attached, as lieutenant-commandant, to the squadron of commodore Rodgers, at New London, and employed in cruising in the sound, to enforce the embargo act. In the following spring, he had the misfortune to be wrecked on Watch Hill reef, opposite Stonington, in consequence of having become enveloped in a thick mist, which prevented all possibility of ascertaining his course. By his intrepidity and coolness, however, he succeeded, in a great measure, in saving the guns and property, and got off all his crew. He was examined before a court of inquiry, at his own request, in relation to the loss, and not merely acquitted of all blame, but highly applauded for his conduct. He also received a very complimentary letter, on the occasion, from the secretary of the navy, Mr. Hamilton. Soon after this event, he returned to Newport, where he married the daughter of doctor Mason.

In the beginning of 1812, he was promoted to the rank of master and commander, and ordered to the command of the flotilla of gun-boats stationed at the harbor of New York. After remaining there a year, he grew tired of the irksome and inglorious nature of this service, and solicited to be removed to another of a more active kind. His request was complied with; and, as he had mentioned the lakes, he was ordered to repair to Sacket’s Harbor, lake Ontario, with a body of mariners, to reinforce commodore Chauncey. Such was his popularity amongst the sailors under his command, that, as soon as the order was known, almost all of them volunteered to accompany him. The rivers being completely frozen at the time, he was obliged, at the head of a large number of chosen seamen, to perform the journey by land, which he safely accomplished. Not long after his arrival at Sacket’s Harbor, commodore Chauncey detached him to take command of the squadron on lake Erie, and superintend the building of additional vessels. He immediately applied to increase his armament, and, with extraordinary exertions, two brigs, of twenty guns each were soon launched at Erie, the American port on the lake. When he found himself in a condition to cope with the British force on the same waters, although the latter were still superior in men and guns, he sought the contest, and, on the morning of the 10th of September, 1813, he achieved the victory which has given his name a permanent place in the history of his country. The details of this famous action, the manner in which it was brought to a fortunate issue by the intrepidity of the commander, in exposing himself in a small boat, for the purpose of shifting his flag from a vessel no longer tenable to one in which he could continue the fight, and in which he did continue it until the enemy’s pennant was lowered, are matters of history familiar to all. The merit of Perry is greatly enhanced by the reflection, that, whilst no victory was ever more decidedly the result of the skill and valor of the commander, this was the first action of any kind he had ever seen. The moderation and courtesy which he displayed towards the enemy, after the termination of the contest, were worthy of the gallantry by which it was gained, and caused the British commander, who had lost the battle by no fault of his, to say that ‘the conduct of Perry towards the captive officers and men, was sufficient of itself to immortalize him.’ In testimony of his merit, Perry was promoted to the rank of captain, received the thanks of congress and a medal, and the like marks of honor from the senate of Pennsylvania.

After the evacuation of Malden by the enemy, Perry acted as a volunteer aid to general Harrison, in his pursuit of the British, and was present at the battle of Moraviantown, October 5. At the time of the invasion of Maryland and Virginia, he commanded a body of seamen and mariners on the Potomac. He was afterwards appointed to command the Java frigate, built at Baltimore, and, on the conclusion of peace with England, sailed, in 1815, in the squadron under commodore Decatur, despatched to the Mediterranean to settle affairs between the United States and Algiers. While in that sea, some difference arose between him and Mr. Heath, commandant of marines on board his ship. This produced a courtmartial, by which both were subjected to a private reprimand from commodore Chauncey; but the affair did not terminate until a hostile meeting had taken place. The duel was fought in New Jersey, opposite to New York, in the summer of 1818. Neither party was injured, Heath having missed his aim, and Perry having fired in the air. In June, 1819, commodore Perry sailed from Chesapeake in the United States ship John Adams, for the West Indies and a cruise, with sealed orders, and was subsequently joined by other vessels, the whole under his command. His term of service, however, was near its end. In August, 1820, he was attacked by the yellow fever, and, after a few days’ illness, expired on the twenty-third of the same month, just as the vessel in which he was entered Port Spain, Trinidad. He was buried the next day with due honor; and in his own country every tribute of respect was paid to his memory. Congress made a liberal provision for the maintenance and education of his family.

John Marshall, Chief Justice of the United States, was born in Fauquier county, Virginia, on the 24th of September 1755. He was the son of Colonel Thomas Marshall, a planter of a moderate fortune, who afterwards served with distinction in the American army, during the war of the Revolution; and he was the eldest of 15 children. Colonel Marshall had removed with his family to a place called ‘The Hollow’ in the mountains east of the Blue Ridge, and, from the want of schools in that neighborhood, became of necessity the first instructor of his son. Being a man of vigorous intellect, though of a comparatively limited education, he succeeded in efficiently training the opening faculties of the latter, and imbuing him with a taste for literature. At the age of 14, young Marshall was placed under the charge of a Mr. Campbell, a respectable clergyman, at the distance of 100 miles from home, and remained with him a year; and he then pursued his classical studies for another year, under the direction of a Scottish gentleman who resided in his father’s family, and had lately become the pastor of the parish to which he belonged. This was all the formal instruction which he received at this period of his life, as he was never at any college. On the breaking out of the revolutionary war, Mr. Marshall embraced with ardor the cause of his country, and was engaged in the action at the Great Bridge, where Lord Dunmore was defeated by the provincial militia. He was appointed a lieutenant in the continental army in July 1776, and promoted to the rank of a captain in May 1777. He was present at the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth, and continued to serve with distinction until the time of enlistment of the troops with which he served had expired, when he returned to Virginia. An interval of 9 or 10 months was now occupied by him in prosecuting the study of the law, which he had already previously entered upon. Having been admitted to the bar, he again joined the army in October 1780, and served under the orders of Baron Steuben, in the defense of Virginia from the invasion of a British force commanded by General Arnold. But before the renewed invasion of the State in the following year, there being more officers than was required by the Virginia line, he resigned his commission; and, on the reöpening of the courts of law after the surrender of Lord Cornwallis, he commenced the practice of his profession, in which he rose rapidly to distinction. In the course of the year 1782, Mr. Marshall was chosen first a member of the Legislature, and then of the Executive Council. On his resignation of the last-mentioned office in 1784, he was, though residing at the time in Richmond, elected a member of the Legislature from his native county of Fauquier; and in 1787, he represented the county of Henrico in the same body. We next find him, as one of the delegates to the convention of Virginia which met in June 1788 for the ratification of the constitution of the United States, ably defending against its adversaries the provisions of this instrument,—​especially those relating to the powers of taxation, over the militia, and of the judiciary, granted by it to the general government. He was elected a member of the Legislature from the city of Richmond in 1789, 1790 and 1791. He declined a reëlection in 1792, and from this period until 1795, was occupied uninterruptedly in the practice of his profession. His friends were, however, unwilling in a season of great political excitement,—​it was just after the conclusion of ‘Jay’s treaty,’—​that he should remain abstracted from any participation in public affairs; and they, accordingly, elected him once more to the Legislature; where, if he did not succeed in preventing the adoption of resolutions approving of the votes of the senators from Virginia, against the ratification of the treaty, on the ground of its inexpediency,—​to him at least it was in a great measure owing that they did not touch the constitutional objection, and that they disclaimed all intention to censure the motives of the President of the United States (General Washington) in ratifying it. The extraordinary ability displayed at this time by Mr. Marshall obtained for him a conspicuous position in every part of the country, and he came to be regarded as a proper person to fill the highest political offices. Accordingly, he was offered successively the appointments of attorney-general of the United States, and minister to France, (on the recall of Mr. Monroe, in 1796,) both of which he declined. He continued in the Legislature of Virginia, where, however, he participated in the discussions only on important questions of general policy, his attention being for the most part given to his professional business, which had now become very extensive and lucrative. On his refusal to accept of the embassy to France, General Pinckney was appointed in his stead. But the French government (the Directory) having refused to receive the latter, Mr. Adams, who was then the president, deemed it proper to make a last effort to preserve peace with France, by sending a special mission to that country. For this purpose, Mr. Marshall, in conjunction with General Pinckney and Mr. Gerry, was selected; and in the then existing critical posture of our foreign relations, he did not feel himself at liberty, as before, to decline the appointment tendered to him. The mission was unsuccessful, the American envoys not having been even received as such. Their letters, addressed to Talleyrand, the French minister of foreign affairs, are attributed to the pen of Mr. Marshall, and have been applauded as admirable specimens of diplomacy. In the summer of 1798, Mr. Marshall returned to the United States; in 1799, at the urgent request of General Washington, he became a candidate and was elected to Congress; and in 1800, he was appointed secretary of war, and then secretary of state. During the short period that he was in Congress, it is needless to say that he ranked among the ablest of that body, and on all constitutional questions above every other member. ‘When he discussed them,’ remarks Mr. Binney, in his Eulogy of Mr. Marshall, ‘he exhausted them; nothing more remained to be said, and the impression of his argument effaced that of every one else.’ The speech which he delivered on the surrender of the person of Jonathan Robbins, on the requisition of the British minister in this country, under a clause of the treaty with Great Britain, upon a charge of murder committed on board a British frigate,—​which speech is believed to be the only one that he ever revised,—​is thus characterized by the same gentleman: ‘It has all the merits, and nearly all the weight, of a judicial sentence. It is throughout inspired by the purest reason, and the most copious and accurate learning. It separates the executive from the judicial power by a line so distinct, and a discrimination so wise, that all can perceive and approve it. It demonstrated that the surrender was an act of political power which belonged to the executive; and by excluding all such power from the grant of the constitution to the judiciary, it prepared a pillow of repose for that department, where the success of the opposite argument would have planted thorns.’ It may be mentioned that, during his term of service in Congress, he voted for the repeal of the obnoxious section of the act commonly known by the name of the ‘Sedition Law,’ and evinced his superiority to mere considerations of party, by thus voting in opposition to all the members with whose political opinions his own generally corresponded. On the 31st of January 1800, Mr. Marshall became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, an office which he filled with the highest honor to himself, and with the greatest advantage to his country, for upwards of 36 years. ‘The decision of the Supreme Court of the United States,’ we again quote the words of Mr. Binney, ‘have raised the renown of the country, not less than they have confirmed the constitution. In all parts of the world, its judgments are spoken of with respect. Its adjudications of prize law are a code for all future time. Upon commercial law it has brought us nearly to one system, befitting the probity and interest of a great commercial nation. Over its whole path, learning and intelligence and integrity have shed their combined lustre.’ Judge Marshall was a member of the convention which met in the year 1829, for revising the constitution of Virginia. He spoke with much power on both of the great questions which divided and agitated the parties composing that body, namely, the basis of representation and the tenure of judicial office; and while he contributed, by the sound sense and moderation of his views in reference to the former, to produce a compromise between the extreme opinions entertained concerning it, he was in no ordinary degree instrumental in causing the tenure of good behavior, for the judges of the Superior Courts, to be adopted in the proposed constitution, guarded ‘by a clause against the construction which had in one instance prevailed, that the repeal of the law establishing the court, and by a mere majority, should dissolve the tenure, and discharge the judge upon the world.’ Having been for some months in feeble health, he visited Philadelphia that he might have the benefit of the most skillful medical aid, and died in that city, on the 6th of July 1835. Judge Marshall published his ‘Life of Washington’ in 1805, in 5 volumes. It was greatly improved and compressed into 2 volumes, in a second edition which appeared in 1832. The first volume of the original work was published in a separate form in 1824, under the title of ‘The History of the American Colonies.’

John Paul Jones was born at Arbingland, in Scotland, July 6th 1747. His father was a gardener, whose name was Paul; but the son assumed that of Jones in subsequent life, for what reason is not known. Young Paul early evinced a decided predilection for the sea, and, at the age of 12, was bound apprentice to a respectable merchant of Whitehaven, in the American trade. His first voyage was to America, where his elder brother was established as a planter. He was then engaged for some time in the slave-trade, but quitted it in disgust, and returned to Scotland, in 1768, as passenger in a vessel, the captain and mate of which died on the passage. Jones assumed the command, at the request of those on board, and brought the vessel safe into port. For this service, he was appointed by the owners master and supercargo. While in command of this vessel, he punished a sailor who afterwards died of a fever at the island of Tobago—​a circumstance which gave rise to an accusation against Jones, of having caused his death, by the severity of the punishment upon him; but this has been completely refuted. Jones was afterwards in command of the Betsy, of London, and remained some time in the West Indies, engaged in commercial pursuits and speculations, by which it is said he realized a handsome fortune. In 1773, he was residing in Virginia, arranging the affairs of his brother, who had died intestate and childless, and about this time took the name of Jones. In Virginia he continued to live until the commencement of the struggle between the colonies and mother country. He offered his services to the former, and was appointed first of the first lieutenants, and designated to the Alfred, on board of which ship, to use his own language in one of his letters, ‘he had the honor to hoist, with his own hands, the flag of freedom, the first time it was displayed on the Delaware.’ Soon after this, we find Jones in command of the Providence, mounting 12 four-pounders, with a complement of 70 men, cruising from the Bermudas to the Gut of Canso, and making 16 prizes in little more than six weeks. In May, 1777, he was ordered to proceed to France, where the American commissioners, Franklin, Deane and Lee, were directed to invest him with the command of a fine ship, as a reward of his signal services. On his arrival in France, he was immediately summoned to Paris by the commissioners. The object of this summons was to concert a plan of operations for the force preparing to act against the British in the West Indies, and on the coast of America. This plan, which certainly did great honor to the projector, though untoward delays and accidents prevented its immediate success, was afterwards openly claimed by Jones as his own, without acknowledging the assistance or participation of the American commissioners or the French ministry. The Ranger was then placed under his orders, with discretion to cruise where he pleased, with this restriction, however, that he was not to return to France immediately after making attempts upon the coasts of England, as the French government had not yet declared itself openly as the ally of the U. States. April 10th 1778 he sailed on a cruise, during which he laid open the weakness of the British coast. With a single ship, he kept the whole coast of Scotland, and part of that of England, for some time, in a state of alarm, and made a descent at Whitehaven, where he surprised and took two forts, with 30 pieces of cannon, and set fire to the shipping. In this attack upon Whitehaven, the house of the earl of Selkirk, in whose service the father of Jones had been gardener, was plundered, and the family plate carried off. But the act was committed without his knowledge, and he afterwards made the best atonement in his power. After his return to Brest with 200 prisoners of war, he became involved in a variety of troubles, for want of means to support them, pay his crew, and refit his ship. After many delays and vexations, Jones sailed from the road of St. Croix, August 14th, 1779, with a squadron of seven sail, designing to annoy the coasts of England and Scotland. The principal occurrence of this cruise was the capture of the British ship of war Serapis, after a bloody and desperate engagement, off Flamborough head, September 23d, 1779. The Serapis was a vessel much superior in force to Jones’ vessel, the Bon Homme Richard, which sunk not long after the termination of the engagement. The sensation produced by this battle was unexampled, and raised the fame of Jones to its acme. In a letter to him, Franklin says, ‘For some days after the arrival of your express, scarce any thing was talked of at Paris and Versailles, but your cool conduct and persevering bravery during that terrible conflict. You may believe that the impression on my mind was not less strong than on that of the others. But I do not choose to say, in a letter to yourself, all I think on such an occasion.’ His reception at Paris, whither he went on the invitation of Franklin, was of the most flattering kind. He was every where caressed; the king presented him with a gold sword, bearing the inscription, Vindicati maris Ludovicus XVI remuneratur strenuo vindici, and requested permission of congress to invest him with the military order of merit—​an honor never conferred on any one before who had not borne arms under the commission of France. In 1781, Jones sailed for the U. States, and arrived in Philadelphia February 18 of that year, after a variety of escapes and rencounters, where he underwent a sort of examination before the board of admirality, which resulted greatly to his honor. The board gave it as their opinion, ‘that the conduct of Paul Jones merits particular attention, and some distinguished mark of approbation from congress.’ Congress passed a resolution, highly complimentary to his ‘zeal, prudence and intrepidity.’ General Washington wrote him a letter of congratulation, and he was afterwards voted a gold medal by congress. From Philadelphia he went to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to superintend the building of a ship of war, and, while there, drew up some admirable observations on the subject of the American navy. By permission of congress, he subsequently went on board the French fleet, where he remained until the conclusion of peace, which put a period to his naval career in the service of the U. States. He then went to Paris, as agent for prize-money, and, while there, joined in a plan to establish a fur-trade between the north-west coast of America and China, in conjunction with a kindred spirit, the celebrated John Ledyard. In Paris, he continued to be treated with the greatest distinction. He afterwards was invited into the Russian service, with the rank of rear-admiral, where he was disappointed in not receiving the command of the fleet acting against the Turks in the Black sea. He found fault with the conduct of the prince of Nassau, the admiral; became restless and impatient; was intrigued against at court, and calumniated by his enemies; and had permission, from the empress Catharine, to retire from the service with a pension, which was never paid. He returned to Paris, where he gradually sunk into poverty, neglect, and ill health, until his death, which was occasioned by jaundice and dropsy, July 18th 1792. His last public act was heading a deputation of Americans, who appeared before the national assembly to offer their congratulations on the glorious and salutary reform of their government. This was before the flight of the king. Jones was a man of signal talent and courage; he conducted all his operations with the most daring boldness, combined with the keenest sagacity in calculating the chances of success and the consequences of defeat. He was, however, of an irritable, impetuous disposition, which rendered him impatient of the authority of his superiors, while he was, at the same time, harsh in the exercise of his own; and he was deficient in that modesty which adorns great qualities and distinguished actions, while it disarms envy and conciliates jealousy. His early education was of a very limited kind. It terminated when he went to sea, at the age of twelve, but he supplied its defects by subsequent study, so as to enable himself to write with fluency, strength and clearness, and to sustain his part respectably in the polished society into which he was thrown. In his letters, he inculcates the necessity of knowledge for naval officers, and intimates that he had devoted ‘midnight studies’ to the attainment of that information which he deemed requisite in his situation. His memorials, correspondence, etc., are quite voluminous. He also wrote poetry, and in Paris was a great pretender to ton, as a man of fashion, especially after his victory over the Serapis, which, of course, gave him great eclat amongst the ladies of the French capital. At this period, he is described by an English lady then resident of Paris, as ‘a smart little man of thirty-six; speaks but little French, and appears to be an extraordinary genius, a poet as well as a hero.’ An account of his life has been written by J. H. Sherburne (Washington, 1828).

General Andrew Jackson was born on the 15th of March, 1767, at the Waxsaw settlement, in South Carolina. His parents emigrated to this country, two years previously, from the north of Ireland. He lost his father at a very early age; and the task of bringing him up devolved exclusively upon his mother. Intending him, it is said, to become a clergyman, she resolved, though restricted in her pecuniary circumstances, to give him a liberal education. For this purpose, she placed him at an academy, where he continued until his studies were interrupted by the advance of the British troops into the neighborhood, during the revolutionary war. Young as he was (scarcely 14 years of age), in company with an elder brother, he joined the American army. Before long, however, they had the misfortune of being made prisoners by the enemy, who maltreated them as rebels, and inflicted upon them injuries of which the brother died after having been exchanged. Andrew Jackson commenced the study of the law at Salisbury, in North Carolina, in the winter of 1784, and was admitted to the bar in 1786. In 1788, he removed to Nashville, then a new settlement in the western district of North Carolina. This district having been ceded to the United States, and organized into a territory in 1790, he was appointed to the office of United States’ attorney; and when the territory, in its turn, in 1796 became the state of Tennessee, he was a member of the convention to frame a constitution for it, and took a conspicuous part in the proceedings of this body. He was immediately afterwards chosen a representative, and in the next year a senator, in Congress. But his seat in the Senate he held only for a single session, alleging, as a reason for resigning it, his distaste for the intrigues of politics. On this, he was appointed by the Legislature of Tennessee to be a judge of the Supreme Court of that state; an office which he accepted with reluctance, and from which he soon retired to his farm on the Cumberland river, near Nashville. And there he continued to reside till the breaking out of the war with Great Britain, in 1812. During the earlier part of his residence in Tennessee, General Jackson had repeatedly distinguished himself by his prowess, in the warfare carried on by the settlers with their Indian neighbors, and had even earned from the latter, by his exploits, the appellations of ‘Sharp Knife’ and ‘Pointed Arrow.’ That after attaining to a prominent position in civil life, he should be selected by his fellow-citizens to occupy a corresponding military rank among them, was therefore almost a matter of course. The war of 1812, accordingly, found him a major-general of one of the divisions of the Tennessee militia. In the month of November of that year, he proceeded, by the direction of the government, at the head of a body of between two and three thousand volunteers, who had assembled on his invitation, down the Mississippi to Natchez, for the protection of the country against an apprehended hostile movement on the part of the Indians. The danger having passed away, he was ordered by the secretary of war to disband his troops on the spot. This order he did not hesitate to disobey, on account, as he stated, of many of his men being sick, and unprovided with the means of paying their expenses on their way home. They returned accordingly in a body with their General, whose apology for the course which he pursued was accepted by the government. In 1813 and 1814, General Jackson was employed against the Creek and Muscogee Indians, who had invaded the frontier settlements of Alabama and Georgia, and inflicted on the inhabitants the usual horrors of savage warfare. After a succession of bloody victories achieved by him over those tribes, they agreed, by a treaty concluded in August, 1814, to lay down their arms. In the month of May of this year, he was appointed a major-general in the service of the United States; and having first seized upon the town of Pensacola, in consequence of the admission into its harbor, by the Spanish governor, of a British squadron to refit, he proceeded to take the command of the forces intended for the defense of New Orleans against the approaching attack of the enemy. On arriving there on the 1st of December, he took his measures with the utmost decision and promptness. Becoming convinced of the expediency of taking precautions against the treachery of some disaffected individuals, he proposed to the Legislature of Louisiana, then in session, to suspend the privilege of the writ of Habeas Corpus. Impatient, however, of the time consumed in deliberating on his proposal, he proclaimed martial law, thus at once superseding the civil authority by the introduction of a rigid military police. Towards the enemy he acted with the same determined energy. Scarcely had the British troops effected a landing, when he marched against them, and by unexpectedly assailing them, in the night of the 22d of December, gained some advantages; the most important of which was that for which this movement of the General was chiefly made, namely, the impression produced upon his followers of their own ability to perform successfully the part assigned to them, at least while commanded by him, as well as that communicated to the invaders, of the formidable character of the opposition which they were destined to encounter. The contest for the possession of New Orleans was brought to a close by the memorable battle of the 8th of January, 1815, which raised the reputation of the American commander to the highest pitch among his countrymen, and served as a satisfactory apology with many for the strong measures adopted by him before the landing of the enemy, as well as for others which he adopted immediately after the retreat of the latter. General Jackson’s next public employment was the conduct of the war against the Seminole Indians, in 1818. With a force composed of Tennessee volunteers and Georgia militia, he penetrated into Florida to the retreats of the savages and fugitive slaves who had joined them, and set fire to their villages. He likewise took possession, without hesitation, of several of the Spanish posts in that region, whence the Indians had been supplied with arms and ammunition, and executed two Englishmen who had been actively engaged in this trade. The posts were restored by the orders of the government; but an attempt in the House of Representatives in Congress to inflict a censure upon General Jackson, for the irregularity of his proceedings, was defeated, after very protracted debates, by a considerable majority. When Florida was transferred by Spain to the United States, he was appointed the first governor of the new territory (in 1821). He resigned this office, and returned to his farm near Nashville, in the following year. In 1823, he was once more chosen to represent the State of Tennessee in the Senate of the United States, but resigned his seat in that body on becoming a prominent candidate for the presidency. Of the electoral votes which were given in the end of the year 1824, he received 99, Mr. Adams 84, Mr. Crawford 41, and Mr. Clay 37. The election devolved, by the provisions of the constitution, on the members of the House of Representatives in Congress, voting by states, and Mr. Adams was selected to be the president. In 1828, and again in 1832, General Jackson was chosen to fill that high office; in the former instance, by 178 of the electoral votes to 83 given in favor of Mr. Adams; and, in the latter, by a majority of 170 electoral votes above his opponent, Mr. Clay. He survived his presidency somewhat more than 8 years, dying at his residence, the ‘Hermitage,’ near Nashville, on the 8th of June, 1845. Though enfeebled in body, he retained his mental faculties, apparently undiminished, till the day of his death. ‘The violence of political strife,’ as is remarked by a writer in the American Almanac for 1846, ‘will long confuse men’s judgment of his character and abilities as a whole; but will accord to him the praise of great firmness, energy, decision, and disinterestedness,—​of remarkable military skill, and ardent patriotism.’

Winfield Scott, commander-in-chief of the American army, was born June 13, 1786, near Petersburg, Virginia. He is descended from a Scotch family, who were obliged to take refuge in America after the rebellion of 1745. After completing his preparatory education, he spent a year or two at William and Mary college, and afterward studied the law, and was admitted to the bar in 1806. In the autumn of 1807, he emigrated to South Carolina, intending to practice his profession at Charleston, but meeting with difficulties in the attainment of his object, he returned to the north. The political events of the country were then rapidly approaching the crisis of 1812; a bill had passed through Congress to enlarge the army, and Scott having applied for a commission, was appointed, in 1808, captain in a regiment of light artillery, and was ordered the following year to join the army in Louisiana, under the command of General Wilkinson. For some act of insubordination toward his commander he was suspended for a year, but he again joined the army before the commencement of the war. Shortly after that event, he received a lieutenant-colonel’s commission, and was posted at Black Rock, on the Niagara frontier. His first active service was at the attack of Qeenstown heights, where he took command of the American force after all the superior officers were killed or wounded. This affair, as is well known, ended disastrously, and Scott, with the survivors of his men, became prisoners-of-war. From Queenstown he was sent to Quebec, and shortly after exchanged. In the following year he distinguished himself at the attack on Fort George, in the descent upon York, and the capture of Fort Matilda, on the St. Lawrence. In March, 1814, he was made brigadier-general; July 3, in the same year, he captured Fort Erie, and on the fifth he fought the bloody battle of Chippewa, in which both sides claimed the victory. On the 25th of the same month was fought the still more sanguinary battle of Niagara or Lundy’s Lane. In this well-fought contest, General Scott was badly wounded, and his life is said to have been despaired of for some weeks. Philadelphia and Baltimore having been threatened with an attack, Scott was requested to take command of the forces in that vicinity. On his way to the scene of his duties, he passed through Princeton, and the learned dignitaries of the college in that town conferred upon the general the honorary degree of master of arts, a curious compliment, probably having some reference to the art of war. About the same time he was promoted to the rank of major-general, the highest grade in the army, he being at that time but twenty-eight years of age. On the conclusion of the peace, in 1815, he was tendered the post of secretary of war, but declined to accept it; and the same year he paid a visit to Europe, principally for the purpose of improving himself in his profession. About 1833 he brought the Black-Hawk war, in the north-western frontier, to a successful termination, and he was shortly after in command at the commencement of the Seminole war in Florida; but this not being so successful as was anticipated, he was ordered home and deprived of his command. In 1837-’38 he was stationed on the Niagara frontier to enforce the neutrality of the United States during the ‘patriot war’ in Canada; and soon afterward he superintended the removal of the Cherokee Indians beyond the Mississippi. By the death of General Macomb, in 1841, General Scott became commander-in-chief of the army. The scene of his next exploits was Mexico. After some difficulty with the president and secretary of war, General Scott was permitted to lead a force to Vera Cruz. The events of that campaign are recent and well known. San Juan de Ulloa was captured March 27, 1847; the battle of Cerro Gordo was fought on the 18th of April; the battle of Contreras on the 19th of August; and the battle of Churubusco on the following day; and after the storming of Molino del Rey and Chapultepec, the city of Mexico was captured September 14, 1847.

Zachary Taylor was born in Orange County, Virginia, in November, 1784. He was the second son of Col. Richard Taylor, whose ancestors emigrated from England about two centuries ago, and settled in Eastern Virginia. The father, distinguished alike for patriotism and valor, served as colonel in the revolutionary war, and took part in many important engagements. About 1790 he left his Virginian farm, and emigrated with his family to Kentucky. He settled in the ‘dark and bloody ground,’ and for years encountered all the trials then incident to border life. The earliest impressions of young Zachary were the sudden foray of the savage foe, the piercing warwhoop, the answering cry of defiance, the gleam of the tomahawk, the crack of the rifle, the homestead saved by his father’s daring, the neighboring cottage wrapped in flames, or its hearth-stone red with blood. Such scenes bound his young nerves with iron, and fired his fresh soul with martial ardor; working upon his superior nature they made arms his delight, and heroism his destiny. Zachary was placed in school at an early age, and his teacher, who now resides in Preston, Connecticut, still loves to dwell on the studiousness of his habits, the quickness of his apprehension, the modesty of his demeanor, the firmness and decision of his character, and a general thoughtfulness, sagacity, and stability, that made him a leader to his mates and a pride to his master.

After leaving school, the military spirit of young Taylor was constantly fanned by the popular excitement against the continual encroachments of England; and soon after the murderous attack of the British ship Leopard upon the Chesapeake, in 1808, he entered the army as first lieutenant in the 7th regiment of infantry. He soon gained distinction in border skirmishes with the Indians, and the declaration of war with England found him promoted to the rank of captain. Within sixty days after the commencement of hostilities in 1812, the imbecility of Hull lost to the country its Michigan territory, and fearfully jeoparded the whole northwestern region. It was of the utmost importance to entrust the few and feeble forts of that great dominion to men of established valor and discretion. Captain Taylor was at once invested with the command of Fort Harrison, situated on the Wabash, in the very heart of the Indian country. The defenses of this post were in a miserable condition, and its garrison consisted of only fifty men, of whom thirty were disabled by sickness. With this little handful of soldiers, the young commander immediately set about repairing the fortifications. He had hardly completed his work, when, on the night of the 4th of September, an alarm shot from one of his sentinels aroused him from a bed of fever, to meet the attack of a large force of Miami Indians. Every man was at once ordered to his post. A contiguous block house was fired by the enemy, and a thick discharge of bullets and arrows was opened upon the fort. The darkness of the night, the howlings of the savages, the shrieks of the women and children, the fast approaching flames, and the panic of the debilitated soldiers, made up a scene of terror, but could not shake the determination nor the judgment of the young chieftain. He inspired his men with his own courage and energy. The flames were extinguished, the consumed breastworks were renewed, and volley answered volley for six long hours till day break enabled the Americans to aim with a deadly precision that soon dispersed their foes. This gallant repulse, at odds so unfavorable, prompted a report from Major General Hopkins to Governor Shelby that ‘the firm and almost unparalleled defense of Fort Harrison had raised for Captain Zachary Taylor a fabric of character not to be affected by eulogy;’ and forthwith procured from President Madison a preferment to the rank of brevet major, the first brevet, it is said, ever conferred in the American army.

Major Taylor continued actively engaged throughout the war; but being without a separate command, he had no opportunity to again signalize himself by any remarkable achievement. After the treaty of peace, he remained at the West, faithfully performing his duties at different military posts, and preparing himself for any future call to more active service. In 1832, he was promoted to the rank of colonel; and soon after the opening of the Florida war, he was ordered to that territory. Here he was in constant service, and distinguished himself for his discretion and gallantry in circumstances of the most trying difficulty and peril. His entire career won for him universal esteem and confidence.

The greatest achievement of Colonel Taylor in Florida was his victory of Okee-Chobee, which was gained on the 25th of December, 1837. The action was very severe, and continued nearly four hours. The Indians, under the command of Alligator and Sam Jones, numbered about 700 warriors, and were posted in a dense hammock, with their front covered by a small stream, almost impassable on account of quicksands, and with their flanks secured by swamps that prevented all access. Colonel Taylor’s force amounted to about 500 men, a portion of whom were inexperienced volunteers. By an extraordinary effort, the stream in front was crossed, under a most galling fire of the enemy, by our soldiers, who sunk to the middle in the mire. A close and desperate fight ensued, during which the five companies of the sixth infantry, who bore the brunt of the fray, lost every officer but one, and one of these companies saved only four privates unharmed. The enemy’s line was at last broken, and their right flank turned. They were soon scattered in all directions, and were pursued until near night. The American loss was 26 killed and 112 wounded; that of the Indians was very large, but never definitely ascertained. Throughout the whole engagement, Colonel Taylor was passing on his horse from point to point within the sweep of the Indian rifles, emboldening and directing his men, without the least apparent regard for his own personal safety. This victory had a decisive influence upon the turn of the war; and the government immediately testified their sense of its importance by conferring upon its gallant winner the rank of brigadier-general by brevet.

In the following May, General Taylor succeeded General Jesup in the command of the Florida army, and in this capacity, during two years, he rendered vast services to the country by quelling the atrocities of Indian warfare, and restoring peace and security to the southern frontier. In 1840, at his own request, he was relieved by Brigadier-general Armistead, and was ordered to the southwestern department. Here he remained at various head-quarters until government had occasion for his services in Texas.

The project for the annexation of Texas, which was first officially broached in the last year of President Tyler’s administration, acquired more and more weight and influence, until finally, in March, 1845, an act to that effect was passed by both Houses of Congress, and was soon after ratified by the Texian government. Mexico, although the independence of Texas had been long before de facto secured, stoutly protested against the annexation. The special American envoy sent to the Mexican capital to attempt an adjustment of this and other difficulties, was refused a hearing, and great preparations were carried on by the Mexican government for another invasion of Texas. In June, General Taylor received orders to advance with his troops over the Sabine, and protect all of the territory east of the Rio Grande, over which Texas exercised jurisdiction. He accordingly marched into Texas, and in August concentrated his forces, amounting to about 3000 men, at Corpus Christi. Receiving orders from Washington to proceed to the Rio Grande, the general, with his little army, moved westward in March, 1846; and after considerable suffering from the heat and the want of food and water, reached the banks of the river opposite Matamoras on the 28th of the month. Colonel Twiggs, with a detachment of dragoons, in the mean time took possession of Point Isabel, situated on an arm of the Gulf, about 25 miles east. General Taylor took every means to assure the Mexicans that his purpose was not war, nor violence in any shape, but solely the occupation of the Texian territory to the Rio Grande, until the boundary should be definitively settled by the two republics.

After encamping opposite Matamoras, the American general prepared with great activity for Mexican aggression, by erecting fortifications, and planting batteries. The Mexicans speedily evinced hostile intentions. General Ampudia arrived at Matamoras with 1000 cavalry and 1500 infantry, and made overtures to our foreign soldiers to ‘separate from the Yankee bandits, and array themselves under the tri-colored flag!’ Such solicitations were of course spurned with contempt. The American general was summoned to withdraw his forces at the penalty of being treated as an enemy; he replied that, while avoiding all occasion for hostilities, he should faithfully execute the will of his government. General Arista soon after arrived at Matamoras, and, superseding Ampudia, issued a proclamation to the American soldiers, begging them not to be the ‘blind instruments of unholy and mad ambition, and rush on to certain death.’ He immediately threw a large body of troops over the river, in order to cut off all communication between General Taylor and his dépôt at Point Isabel. A detachment of 61 soldiers, under Captain Thornton, was waylaid by a Mexican force of ten times their number, and after a bloody conflict and the loss of many lives, was obliged to surrender. With but eight days’ rations, and the country to the east fast filling up with the Mexican troops, the position of General Taylor became very critical. He at once resolved, at every hazard, to procure additional supplies; and, leaving the fort under the command of Major Brown, he set out with a large portion of his army, on the 1st of May, for Point Isabel. He reached that place the next day, without molestation. Soon after his departure, the Mexicans opened their batteries upon Fort Brown. The fire was steadily returned with two long eighteen and sixteen brass six pounders by the garrison, which numbered about 900 men. The bombardment of the fort was kept up at intervals from batteries in its rear, as well as from the town, for six days. The Americans, though possessed of little ammunition, and having to mourn the fall of their gallant commander, sustained the cannonade with unyielding firmness until the afternoon of the 8th, when their hearts were thrilled with exultation by the answering peal of General Taylor at Palo Alto.

On the evening of the 7th, the American general, with about 200 men and 250 wagons left Point Isabel for the relief of Fort Brown, and after advancing seven miles encamped. The next morning he resumed his march, and at noon met 6000 Mexican troops under Arista, with 800 cavalry, and seven field pieces, in line of battle, on a plain flanked at both sides by small pools, and partly covered in front by thickets of chaparral and Palo Alto. General Taylor at once halted, refreshed his men, advanced to within a quarter of a mile of the Mexican line, and gave battle. The conflict first commenced between the artillery, and for two hours, Ringgold’s, and Duncan’s, and Churchill’s batteries mowed down rank after rank of the enemy. The infantry remained idle spectators until General Torrejon, with a body of lancers, made a sally upon our train. The advancing columns were received with a tremendous fire, and faltered, broke, and fled. The battle now became general, and for a time raged with terrific grandeur, amid a lurid cloud of smoke from the artillery, and the burning grass of the prairie. It rested for an hour, and then again moved on. The American batteries opened with more tremendous effect than ever; yet the ranks of the enemy were broken only to be refilled by fresh men courting destruction. Captain May charged upon the left, but with too few men to be successful. The chivalrous Ringgold fell. The cavalry of the enemy advanced upon our artillery of the right to within close range, when a storm of cannister swept them back like a tornado. Their infantry made a desperate onset upon our infantry, but recoiled before their terrible reception. Again they rallied, and again were they repulsed. Panic seized the baffled foe, and soon squadron and column were in full retreat. The conflict had lasted five hours, with a loss to the Americans of 7 killed and 37 wounded, and to the Mexicans of at least 250 killed and wounded.

In the evening, a council of war was held upon the propriety of persisting to advance upon Fort Brown, in spite of the vastly superior force of the enemy. Of the thirteen officers present some were for retreating to Point Isabel, others for intrenching upon the spot, and only four for pushing ahead. The general, after hearing all opinions, settled the question by the laconic declaration, ‘I will be at Fort Brown before to-morrow night, if I live.’ In the morning the army again marched.

The enemy were again met most advantageously posted in the ravine of Resaca de la Palma within three miles of Fort Brown. About 4 P. M. the battle commenced with great fury. By order of General Taylor, May, with his dragoons, charged the enemy’s batteries. The Mexicans reserved their fire until the horses were near the cannons’ mouth, and then poured out a broadside which laid many a poor fellow low. Those of the dragoons not disabled rushed on, overleaped the batteries, and seized the guns. The enemy recoiled, again rallied, and with fixed bayonets returned to the onset. Again they were repulsed. The ‘Tampico veterans’ came to the rescue, were met by the dragoons now reinforced with infantry, and all but seventeen fell sword in hand after fighting with the most deperate bravery. This decided the battle. The flanks of the enemy were turned, and soon the rout became general. The Mexicans fled to the flat boats of the river, and the shouts of the pursuers and the shrieks of the drowning closed the scene. A great number of prisoners including fourteen officers, eight pieces of artillery, and a large quantity of camp equipage fell into the hands of the victors. The American loss was 39 killed and 71 wounded; that of the enemy in the two actions was at least 1000 killed and wounded. Fort Brown was relieved, and the next day Barita on the Mexican bank was taken by colonel Wilson without resistance.

The victories of the 8th and 9th filled our country with exultation. Government acknowledged the distinguished services of General Taylor by making him Major-general by brevet; congress passed resolutions of high approval; Louisiana presented him with a sword, and the press everywhere teemed with his praise.

As soon as means could be procured, General Taylor crossed the Rio Grande, took Matamoras without opposition, and made colonel Twiggs its governor. The army soon received large volunteer reinforcements, and on the 5th of August the American general left Matamoras for Camargo, and thence proceeded through Seralos to Monterey, where he arrived the 19th of September. The Mexicans, under General Ampudia, had placed this strongly fortified town in a complete state of defense. Not only were the walls and parapets lined with cannons, but the streets and houses were barricaded and planted with artillery. The bishop’s palace on a hill at a short distance west of the city was converted into a perfect fortress. The town was well supplied with ammunition, and manned with 7000 troops of the line, and from 2000 to 3000 irregulars. The attack commenced on the 21st, and two important redoubts without the city, and an important work within, were carried with a loss to the Americans in killed and wounded of not less than 394. At three the next morning, a considerable force under General Worth dragged their howitzers by main strength up the hill, and assaulted the palace. The enemy made a desperate sortie, but were driven back in confusion, and the fortification was soon taken by the Americans with a loss of only 7 killed and 12 wounded. The next night, the Mexicans evacuated nearly all their defenses in the lower part of the city. The Americans entered the succeeding day, and by the severest fighting slowly worked their way from street to street and square to square, until they reached the heart of the town. General Ampudia saw that further resistance was useless, and, on the morning of the 24th, proposed to evacuate the city on condition that he might take with him the personel and materiel of his army. This condition was refused be the American general. A personal interview between the two commanders ensued, which resulted in a capitulation of the city, allowing the Mexicans to retire with their forces and a certain portion of their materiel beyond the line formed by the pass of the Rinconada and San Fernando de Presas, and engaging the Americans not to pass beyond that line for eight weeks. Our entire loss during the operations was 12 officers and 108 men killed, 31 officers and 337 men wounded; that of the enemy is not known, but was much larger. The terms accorded by the conqueror were liberal, and dictated by a regard to the interests of peace; they crowned a gallant conquest of arms with a more sublime victory of magnanimity.

General Taylor could not long remain inactive, and with a bold design to seek out the enemy and fight him on his own ground, he marched as far as Victoria. But by the transfer of the seat of the war to Vera Cruz, he was deprived of the greater portion of his army, and was obliged to fall back on Monterey. Here he remained until February, when, having received large reinforcements of volunteers, he marched at the head of 4,500 men, to meet Santa Anna; and on the 20th, took up a position at Buena Vista, the great advantages of which had previously struck his notice. On the 22d, a Mexican army of 20,000 made its appearance, and Santa Anna summoned the American commander to surrender. General Taylor, with Spartan brevity, ‘declined acceding to the request.’ The next morning the ten-hours’ conflict began. We shall not attempt to rehearse the history of that fearful battle: it is written forever on the memory of the nation. The advance of the hostile host with muskets and swords and bayonets gleaming in the morning sun; the shouts of the marshaled foemen; the opening roar of the artillery; the sheeted fire of the musketry; the unchecked approach of the enemy; the outflanking by their cavalry and its concentration in our rear; the immovable fortitude of the Illinoians; the flight of the panic-stricken Indianians; the fall of Lincoln; the wild shouts of Mexican triumph; the deadly and successful charge upon the battery of O’Brien; the timely arrival of General Taylor from Saltillo, and his composed survey, amid the iron hail, of the scene of battle; the terrible onset of the Kentuckians and Illinoians; the simultaneous opening of the batteries upon the Mexican masses in the front and the rear; the impetuous but ill-fated charge of their cavalry upon the rifles of Mississippi; the hemming-in of that cavalry, and the errand of Lieutenant Crittenden to demand of Santa Anna its surrender; the response of the confident chieftain by a similar demand; the immortal rejoinder, ‘General Taylor never surrenders!’ the escape of the cavalry to a less exposed position; its baffled charge upon the Saltillo train; its attack upon the hacienda, and its repulse by the horse of Kentucky and Arkansas; the fall of Yell and Vaughn; the insolent mission, under a white flag, to inquire what General Taylor was waiting for; the curt reply ‘for General Santa Anna to surrender;’ the junction, by this ruse, of the Mexican cavalry in our rear with their main army; the concentrated charge upon the American line; the overpowering of the battery of O’Brien; the fearful crisis; the reinforcement of Captain Bragg ‘by Major Bliss and I;’ the ‘little more grape, Captain Bragg;’ the terrific carnage; the pause, the advance, the disorder, the retreat; the too eager pursuit of the Kentuckians and Illinoians down the ravines; the sudden wheeling around of the retiring mass; the desperate struggle, and the fall of Harden, McKee, and Clay; the imminent destruction, and the rescuing artillery; the last breaking and scattering of the Mexican squadrons and battalions; the joyous embrace of Taylor and Wool; and Old Rough and Ready’s ‘’Tis impossible to whip us when we all pull together;’ the arrival of cold nightfall; the fireless, anxious, weary bivouac; the general’s calm repose for another day’s work; the retreat of the enemy under the cover of darkness—​are not all these things familiar to every American schoolboy? The American loss was 267 killed, 456 wounded, and 23 missing. The Mexicans left 500 dead on the field, and the whole number of their killed and wounded was probably near 2000. History tells not of a battle more bravely contested and more nobly won: and well did the greatest warrior of the age, in learning it, exclaim, ‘General Taylor’s a general indeed!’

The victory of Buena Vista was the last and crowning achievement of General Taylor’s military life. His department in Mexico was entirely reduced by it to subjection, and the subsequent operations of his army were few and unimportant. At the close of the war he retired from Mexico, carrying with him not only the adoration of his soldiers, but even the respect and attachment of the very people he had vanquished. Louisiana welcomed him with an ovation of the most fervent enthusiasm. Thrilling eloquence from her most gifted sons, blessings, and smiles, and wreaths from her fairest daughters, overwhelming huzzas from her warm-hearted multitudes, triumphal arches, splendid processions, costly banners, sumptuous festivals, and, in short, every mode of testifying love and homage was employed; but modesty kept her wonted place in his heart, and counsels of peace were, as ever, on his tongue. His prowess in conflict was no more admirable than his self forgetfulness in triumph.

His last great deed had hardly ceased to echo over the land, before the people began to mark him out for their highest gift. He coveted no such distinction, and constantly expressed a wish that Henry Clay might be the chosen one. But the popular purpose grew stronger and stronger, and General Taylor was named for the presidency by one of the great political parties of the country. During the political contest he remained steadfastly true to himself. He neither stooped nor swerved, neither sought nor shunned. He was borne by a triumphant majority to the presidential chair, and in a way that has impelled the most majestic intellect of the nation to declare, that ‘no case ever happened in the very best days of the Roman Republic, where any man found himself clothed with the highest authority of the state under circumstances more repelling all suspicion of personal application, all suspicion of pursuing any crooked path in politics, or all suspicion of having been actuated by sinister views and purposes.’

The inaugural address of President Taylor was redolent with old-fashioned patriotism, and breathed the very spirit of Washington. And his subsequent administration, though beset by sectional strifes of fearful violence, was conducted with wisdom, firmness, equanimity, and moderation, on great national principles, and for great national ends. Owing to his profound deference to the coördinate branches of government, and his inability to either dictate or assume, his policy in reference to some of the exciting questions of the day was not, during the short period of his administration, fully proclaimed to congress, and pressed upon its adoption; but, though a southern man and a slaveholder, he had deliberately and explicitly declared himself in favor of the prompt and untrammeled admission of California into the Union. He was taken away in the midst of the controversy, just as he was about to submit his views upon the subject to the representatives of the people. His last public appearance was in doing homage to Washington, on the birthday of our liberties, and his last official act was adding a new guaranty to the peace of the world, by signing the convention recently concluded between our country and Great Britain respecting Central America. Disease soon did its work. Confronting Death with the fearless declaration, ‘I am prepared—​I have endeavored to do my duty,’ the old hero succumbed—​his first and last surrender.

General Taylor married in early life a lady of Virginia, and was connected either by affinity or blood, with many of the most noted families of the Old Dominion. His excellent consort, a son, and a daughter, survive him. In person, General Taylor was about five feet eight inches in height, and like most of our revolutionary generals, was inclined to corpulency. His hair was gray, his brow ample, his eye vivid, and his features plain but full of firmness, intelligence and benevolence. His manners were easy and cordial, his dress, habits, and tastes simple, and his style of living temperate in the extreme. His speeches and his official papers, both military and civil, are alike famed for their propriety of feeling and their chastity of diction. His private life was unblemished, and the loveliness of his disposition made him the idol of his own household and the favorite of all who knew him. His martial courage was only equaled by his Spartan simplicity, his unaffected modesty, his ever wakeful humanity, his inflexible integrity, his uncompromising truthfulness, his lofty magnanimity, his unbounded patriotism, and his unfaltering loyalty to duty. His mind was of an original and solid cast, admirably balanced, and combining the comprehensiveness of reason with the penetration of instinct. Its controlling element was a strong, sterling sense, that of itself rendered him a wise counselor and a safe leader. All of his personal attributes and antecedents made him preëminently a man of the people, and remarkably qualified him to be the stay and surety of his country in its day of danger.

John E. Wool, a distinguished American general, was born in Newburgh, New York, in 1789. He received but a scanty education, and passed the greater part of his youth in the store of a merchant at Troy, in the situation of clerk. He afterwards commenced the study of law, but at the end of a year he gave up the idea of following this profession, and, war having been declared with Great Britain, he procured a captain’s commission in a regiment of infantry, and joined the forces under General Van Rensselaer, on the Niagara frontier. In the course of this war he distinguished himself greatly. For his services at Queenstown he was promoted to the rank of major; and for his gallant conduct at Plattsburgh he was made lieutenant-colonel, by brevet. During the interval of peace which followed the treaty of Ghent, Colonel Wool performed several important services. In 1832, he was despatched to Europe, for the purpose of procuring information on military matters; and in discharge of that duty he traveled through France and Belgium, and was present at Antwerp during the siege of that city by the French. In 1836, he superintended the removal of the Indians from the Cherokee country to the Arkansas; and, in 1838, he was placed in command of the Maine frontier during the troubles arising out of the boundary question. In 1841, he had risen by successive steps to the rank of brigadier-general. During the war with Mexico, General Wool was attached to the army under General Taylor; and it was to his skill and energy that the Americans were greatly indebted for the victory of Buena Vista. For his services on this occasion he was appointed major-general by brevet. Since the conclusion of the Mexican war, General Wool has been in command of the northeastern division of the American army, and now resides in the city of Troy.

Daniel Webster was born in the town of Salisbury, New Hampshire, January 18, 1782. His father, Major Ebenezer Webster, was one of the pioneers of the settlement in that quarter. He served with credit in the old French war, and also in the war of the revolution, especially under Stark, at Bennington. Major Webster established himself in a newly-granted township at the confluence of the Winnipisiogee and Pemigewasset, after the peace of 1763. In this region, then lying almost in a state of nature, the great orator and statesman was born, and passed the first years of his life. His opportunities of education were very deficient, and he was indebted for his earliest instruction to his mother, who was a woman of character and intelligence. For a few months only, in 1796, he enjoyed the advantages of Phillips’ Exeter academy. Here his education for college commenced; it was completed under the Rev. Dr. Wood, of Boscawen. He entered Dartmouth college in 1797, and during the four years of his study there, gave plain indications of future eminence. Soon after his graduation, he engaged in professional studies, first in his native village, and afterward at Fryeburg, in Maine, where at the same time he had the charge of an academy. He eked out his frugal salary by acting as a copyist in the office of register of deeds. He was moved to these strenuous exertions by the wish to aid his brother to obtain a college education. Having completed his law-studies in the office of governor Gore, of Boston, he was admitted to the bar of Suffolk, Massachusetts, in the year 1805. He immediately commenced the practice of law in his native state and county. His father, a man of sterling sense and character, who for the last twelve years of his life had been a judge of the court of common pleas, died in 1806, but not without the satisfaction of hearing his son’s first speeches at the bar. In 1807, Mr. Webster removed to Portsmouth in his native state, and soon became engaged in a most respectable and extensive, but not very lucrative practice. In 1812, he was chosen one of the members of congress from New Hampshire, and in due time was reëlected. Although among the youngest members of the house of representatives, and entirely without legislative experience, he rose at once to the front rank, both in the despatch of business and in debate. Among his associates in the house were Clay, Cheves, Lowndes, Calhoun, Forsyth, and other members of great ability. It was soon felt and admitted that he was worthy to be named with the ablest of them. It was the remark of Mr. Lowndes ‘that the south had not his superior, nor the north his equal.’ Finding the professional fields at Portsmouth inadequate to the support of a growing family, Mr. Webster removed to Boston in 1816. His professional reputation had grown as rapidly as his fame as a statesman. He placed himself at once by the side of the leaders of the Massachusetts bar. He had already appeared before the supreme court of the United States in Washington. By his brilliant argument in the Dartmouth college case, carried by appeal to Washington in 1817, he took rank among the most distinguished jurists in this country. In 1820, Mr. Webster was chosen a member of a convention called for the purpose of revising the constitution of Massachusetts. No one exercised a more powerful influence over its deliberations. He was offered, about this time, a nomination as a senator of the United States, but declined. In 1822, he yielded to the most pressing solicitations to become a candidate for the place of representative of the city of Boston in the eighteenth congress, and was chosen by a very large majority. This step involved a great sacrifice of professional interest. He took his seat in Congress in December, 1823, and early in the session made his celebrated speech on the Greek revolution, an effort which at once established his reputation as one of the first statesmen of the age. In the autumn of the same year he was reëlected by a vote of 4,990, out of 5,000 cast. In 1826 he was again a candidate, and not a hundred votes were thrown against him. Under the presidency of Mr. Adams (1825–29), he was the leader of the friends of the administration, first in the house of representatives, and afterward in the senate of the United States, to which he was elected in June, 1827. His great speech on the Panama mission was made in the first session of the nineteenth congress. When the tariff law of 1824 was brought forward, Mr. Webster spoke with great ability against it on the ground of expediency. He represented one of the greatest commercial constituencies in the Union; and his colleagues, with a single exception, voted with him against the bill. This law, however, forced a large amount of the capital of New England into manufactures; and in 1828 Mr. Webster sustained the law of that year for a more equal adjustment of the benefits of protection. The change which took place in his course in this respect was the result of the circumstances alluded to, and was approved by his constituents. Mr. Webster remained in the senate under the administration of Gen. Jackson, and Mr. Van Buren, a period of twelve years. During this time the most important questions were discussed, measures of the highest moment to the country were brought forward, and political events and combinations of the most novel and extraordinary character succeeded each other. Under all changes of men and measures, Mr. Webster maintained the position of a constitutional and patriot statesman, second to none who had ever devoted himself to the service of his country. In 1830, he made what is generally regarded the ablest of his parliamentary efforts, his second speech in reply to colonel Hayne of South Carolina. This gentleman in a speech on a resolution moved by Mr. Foote, of Connecticut, relative to the surveys of the public lands, had indulged in some personalities against Mr. Webster, had commented with severity on the political course of the New England states, and had laid down in rather an authoritative manner those views of the constitution usually known as the doctrines of ‘nullification.’ Mr. Webster was accordingly called upon to defend himself from the insinuations of the distinguished senator from South Carolina, to vindicate New England, and to point out the fallacies of nullification. To accomplish these objects, he employed all the resources of the most skillful rhetoric, polished sarcasm, and acute argument. The records of modern eloquence contain nothing of superior force and beauty. The second speech of Mr. Webster in this debate may be regarded as the greatest effort of this consummate orator. Shaping his public course by principle, and not by the blind impulse of party, Mr. Webster, though opposed to the administration of General Jackson, gave it a cordial support in its measures for the defense of the Union in 1832-’33. The doctrines of the president’s proclamation against the theories of South Carolina were mainly adopted from Mr. Webster’s speeches, and he was the chief dependence of the administration upon the floor of congress. When, however, the financial system of general Jackson was brought forward and fully developed, it was strenuously opposed by Mr. Webster. He foretold with accuracy the explosion which took place in the spring of 1837, and contributed materially to rally the public opinion of the country alike against the first phase of the new financial system, which was that of an almost boundless expansion of paper currency, issuing from the state banks, and against the opposite extreme, which was adopted as a substitute, that of an exclusive use of specie in all payments to or by the government. Mr. Webster maintained with great force of argument, and variety of illustration, the superior convenience of the financial system which had been adopted in the infancy of the government, with the approval of every administration, from that of Washington down, viz: that of a mixed currency of specie and convertible paper, kept within safe bounds by the law requiring all payments to be made in specie or its equivalent, and regulated by a national institution acting as a check upon the state banks. The clear and forcible manner in which these principles were inculcated by Mr. Webster contributed materially to the downfall of Mr. Van Buren’s administration. In 1839, Mr. Webster made a short visit to Europe. His time was principally passed in England, but he devoted a few weeks to the continent. His fame had preceded him to the old world, and he was received with the attention due to his character and talents at the French and English courts, and in the highest circles of both countries. On the accession of General Harrison to the presidency, Mr. Webster was placed at the head of his cabinet as secretary of state. His administration of the department during the two years he remained in it was signalized by the most distinguished success. The United States was at that time involved in a long standing controversy with Great Britain, on the subject of the northeastern boundary of Maine. To this had been added the difficult questions arising out of the detention of American vessels by British cruisers on the coast of Africa. Still more recently, the affair of M’Leod, in New York, had threatened an immediate rupture between the two governments. The correspondence between the United States’ minister, in London, in 1841, Mr. Stevenson and the British secretary of state for foreign affairs, Lord Palmerston, was of an uncompromising character. Other causes of mutual irritation existed, which the limits of this sketch do not permit us to enumerate.

Shortly after the accession of General Harrison, the Melbourne administration was overturned in England, and Sir Robert Peel returned to power. This cotemporary change of government in the two countries was favorable to a settlement of the long-standing difficulties. Mr. Webster, after coming into the department of state, intimated to the British minister that the government of the United States was convinced of the impossibility of settling the boundary-line by adhering to the course hitherto pursued—​that of topographical explorations, with a view to the literal execution of the treaty of 1783—​but was prepared to adopt a conventional line, on the basis of mutual gain and concession, if such a line could be agreed upon. The new ministry, taking advantage of this overture, immediately determined to send Lord Ashburton as a special envoy to the United States, to negotiate upon this and the other subjects in controversy. Massachusetts and Maine were invited to take part by their commissioners in the negotiation; and on August 9, 1842, the treaty of Washington was ratified by the senate. By this treaty the boundary dispute, which had lasted fifty years, was happily adjusted. An amicable and efficient arrangement was made for joint action in the suppression of the slave-trade, and an agreement entered into for a mutual extradition of fugitives from justice. The other subjects of discussion at that period, between Great Britain and the United States, with the exception of the Oregon boundary, were happily disposed of in the correspondence accompanying the treaty. The terms of this important treaty were equally honorable and satisfactory to both parties. Mr. Tyler’s cabinet was broken up in 1842, but Mr. Webster remained in office till the spring of 1843, being desirous of putting some other matters connected with our foreign relations in a prosperous train. Steps were taken by him in the winter of 1842-’3, which led to the recognition of the independence of the Sandwich islands by the principal maritime powers. His last official act was the preparation of the instructions of General C. Cushing, as commissioner for negotiating a treaty with China. With the commencement of Mr. Polk’s administration, Mr. Webster returned to the senate of the United States. He remained a member of that body during the whole of the administration of Mr. Polk, and till the death of General Taylor. Though unconnected with the executive government, he rendered the most material service in the settlement of the Oregon dispute. It has been publicly stated by Mr. M’Gregor, the distinguished member of parliament for Glasgow, that a letter written to him by Mr. Webster, and shown to the British ministers, led them to agree to the adoption of the line of boundary which was established in 1846. Mr. Webster opposed the Mexican war on principle; and in the full persuasion, which events have confirmed, that acquisitions of territory would disturb the balance of the Union, and endanger its stability. He, however, concurred in granting the supplies which were required for the efficient conduct of the war. His second son, Major Edward Webster, with the entire approbation of his father, accepted a commission in the Massachusetts regiment of volunteers, and sunk under the exposures of the service in Mexico. He was a young man of great promise. In conformity with Mr. Webster’s anticipations, the acquisition of Mexican territory led to agitations on the subject of slavery, which, during the years 1849-’50, seriously threatened the Union. The question whether slavery should exist in California seemed likely to lead to the renewal of the Missouri controversy, aggravated by all the bitterness which has grown out of the struggles of the last fifteen years. Mr. Webster entertained the most serious apprehensions of an inauspicious result. The convention of the people of California having unanimously adopted a constitution by which that question was disposed of, without the interference of congress, Mr. Webster conceived the hope that, by mutual concession on other and less important points, the harmony of the South and North could be restored, and a severance of the Union averted. With a view to this consummation, he made his great speech of March 7, 1850. A very powerful influence was exerted by this speech on the public mind. While the debates on what have been called the ‘compromise measures’ were in progress in the senate, General Taylor died. The chair of state was assumed by President Fillmore, who immediately called Mr. Webster to the department of state. His administration of the office was marked with characteristic ability and success. In a series of public addresses of unsurpassed ability, made in different parts of the Union, he enforced the great duty of mutual concession, in reference to the sectional controversy which so seriously alarmed the country. In December, 1850, the famous Hülsemann letter was written, to which Kossuth has applied the epithet of ‘immortal.’ Mr. Webster, by his firm and judicious manner of treating the Cuba question, obtained of the Spanish government the pardon of the followers of Lopez, who had been deported to Spain. About the same time, he received from the English government an apology for the interference of a British cruiser with an American steamer in the waters of Nicaragua. This is the second time that the British government has made a similar concession at the instance of Mr. Webster. The first was in reference to the destruction of the ‘Caroline,’ at Schlosser. It has been affirmed that these are the only occasions on which the British government has ever apologized for the conduct of its affairs. Mr. Webster’s intellectual efforts were not confined to politics. He filled a place second to none of his cotemporaries at the American bar, and his discourses upon various historical and patriotic anniversaries are among the brightest gems of modern eloquence. The works of Mr. Webster have been lately published in six volumes, 8vo, with a biographical memoir by Mr. Edward Everett, from which the preceding sketch has been for the most part extracted. He died at his residence in Marshfield, Massachusetts, on the 24th day of October, 1852.

Henry Clay was born April 12, 1777, in Hanover county, Virginia. His father was a Baptist clergyman, of small means, who died when his son was only five years of age. He was one of a large family of children, who were left under the care of their mother—​a firm-minded and truly excellent woman. Henry’s early advantages consisted in the privilege of attending a common country Virginia school; and such were the circumstances of the widow, that thus early, he was obliged to contribute to the support of the family. His work was generally on the farm. At fourteen years of age he was placed in a small retail shop in Richmond, Va. The next year he entered the office of Mr. Tinsley, clerk of the high court of chancery, where among other valuable acquaintances, he attracted the notice and acquired the friendship of the distinguished and beloved Chancellor Wythe—​one of the venerated signers of the declaration of independence. With him the poor orphan found a patron and a home. Under the direction of his great benefactor, and for the purpose of studying his profession, he entered the law office of Robert Brooke, attorney general of the State. In 1797 he moved to Lexington, Ky., where before he commenced the practice of the law, he devoted some months to severe study. Such were the youthful trials of this great man. The foundation of his long, eminent, patriotic and glorious career was thus, not family, nor wealth, nor titles, but talents, industry, integrity, and worth. Our space will not permit a full detail of a progress alike honorable to a people who saw and appreciated his value as a man, and to the patriot who devoted himself zealously to the public service. This commenced in 1797, when he took part in the debates relating to the call of a convention to form a constitution for Kentucky, and in 1798, when he zealously entered the field against the celebrated alien and sedition laws. As soon as he was eligible, he was elected to the legislature of Kentucky. He was a leading member until 1806, when he was sent to the senate of the United States, to fill the place occasioned by the resignation of General Adir. This, however, was only a fraction of a term; and at the close of the session, Mr. Clay was again chosen to a seat in the legislature. He was speaker several years. In 1809, he was a second time elected to the United States senate and to fill a fractional part of a term. This expired in 1811, when he was elected a member of the house of representatives. On the first ballot he was elected speaker, which office he filled with distinguished ability. It is no more than justice to remark, that thus far Mr. Clay had proved himself equal, and more than equal, to every place which he had been called upon to fill. Indeed, he was a member of the republican party, and so signal had been his eloquence, his patriotism, his influence and his efficiency, as to have attracted the eyes of the nation. He nobly sustained the administration of Mr. Madison and the war of 1812. After the conclusion of the treaty of Ghent, Mr. Clay, with Mr. Adams and Mr. Gallatin, went to London, where a commercial convention between this country and Great Britain was concluded. Mr. Clay was again elected to the house of representatives in 1815, and again made speaker. Subsequently, after two years absence from congress, he was reëlected in 1823, and again made the speaker, which place he filled until 1825, when he was appointed secretary of state by John Quincy Adams. Mr. Clay was speaker of the house from 1811 to 1825, with the exception of two years, during which time he voluntarily retired from congress.

Mr. Clay continued in the office of secretary of state until 1829. Two years later, in December, 1831, he was again elected to the senate of the United States, and continued a member of that body until March 31, 1842, when he resigned. Mr. Clay lived in elegant retirement at Ashland, until he was again (1849) elected to the senate. And here, after a brilliant parliamentary career, he closed his life, as his friend John Quincy Adams did, with his harness on—​still serving the country for whose welfare his heart so fervently beat. He died on the 29th of June, 1852.

The subject of the accompanying likeness is one, perhaps, as well known to the people of this country as any name engraven upon its political scroll. His long public service has been such as to keep him prominently before the public eye for forty years, during which period he has sustained an unsullied reputation, and has commanded the respect and a large share of the confidence of all parties. Mr. Woodbury graduated at Dartmouth College in 1809, and immediately applied himself to the study of the law, which he subsequently practiced with credit and success until 1816, when he was appointed secretary of the senate of the United States, and during the following year judge of the superior court. Shortly after this we find him a member of General Jackson’s cabinet, and in 1823, governor of New Hampshire. In the year 1825, Mr. Woodbury was chosen to the United States senate. In 1831, we find him secretary of the navy. In 1834, we find him secretary of the treasury, and find him again in the senate of the United States from New Hampshire, in 1841. In the autumn of 1845, a vacancy occurred on the bench of the supreme court of the United States, by the demise of Judge Story; this appointment was offered to Mr. Woodbury and accepted. Such are a few of the important datas in the career of Mr. Woodbury’s life, and would space permit us, we should be pleased, in this connection, to go into an elaborate description of his personal characteristics and patriotism. His character has ever been remarkable for firmness and consistency, and whether as a citizen, a politician, or a jurist, he has been found a steady supporter of the constitution of the United States.

We can give no better sketch of Mr. Rantoul’s life than to quote from Hon. Charles Sumner’s eulogy pronounced in congress. He was born August 13th, 1805, at Beverly, in the county of Essex, the home of Nathan Dane. Here under happy auspices of family and neighborhood, he commenced life. His excellent father, honored for his public services, venerable also in years and flowing silver locks, yet lives to mourn his last surviving son. The sad fortune of Burke is renewed. He who should have been as posterity, is now to this father in the place of ancestry. Mr. Rantoul was early a member of the legislature of Massachusetts, and there won his first fame. For many years he occupied a place in the board of education in that state. He was also, for a time, collector of the port of Boston, and afterwards attorney of the United States for Massachusetts. During a brief period he held a seat in the senate, and finally, in 1851, by the choice of his native district, remarkable for its intelligence and public spirit, he became a representative in the other branch of our national legislature. In all these spheres he performed most acceptable service, and the future promised opportunities of a higher character, to which his abilities, industry and fidelity would have amply responded. By fitness, by study, knowledge and experience, he was formed for public service, but he was no stranger to other pursuits. Early devoted to the profession of the law, he followed it with assiduity and success. In the antiquities of our jurisprudence, few were more learned, and his arguments at the bar, were thorough. Nor were his intelligence and promptness in all emergencies of a trial easily surpassed. Literature, neglected by many under the pressure of professional duties, was always cultivated by him. His taste for books was enduring. He was a constant student, amidst his manifold labors, professional and public. He was a reformer in the warfare with evil. He was enlisted earnestly and openly as a soldier for life. As such, he did not hesitate to encounter opposition, to meet obloquy, and to brave his enemies. His conscience, pure as goodness, sustained him in every trial, even that sharpest of all, the desertion of friends; and yet while earnest in his cause, his zeal was tempered beyond that of the common reformer. He knew well the difference between the ideal and the actual, and sought by practical means, in harmony with public sentiment, to promote the public interest. Recognizing in the social and political system the essential elements of stability and progress, he discerned the office of the conservative and the reformer; but he saw, also, that a blind conservatism was not less destructive than a blind reform. He was the faithful supporter of common schools, the glory of New England. By word and example he sustained the cause of temperance. Some of his most devoted labors, commencing in the legislature of Massachusetts, were for the abolition of capital punishment. With its final triumph, in the progress of civilization, his name will be indissolubly connected. In harmony with these noble reforms was the purity of his private life; there he was blameless. In manners, he was modest, simple and retiring. In conversation, he was disposed to listen rather than to speak, though all were well pleased when he broke silence, and in apt language declared his glowing thoughts. But in the public assembly, before the people, he was bold and triumphant. As a debater, he rarely met his equal. Fluent, earnest, rapid, incisive, his words at times came forth like a flashing scimitar. Few could stand against him; he always understood his subjects, and then clear, logical, and determined, seeing his point before him, pressed forward with unrelenting power. His speeches were enriched by study, and contained passages of beauty—​but he was most truly at home in dealing with practical questions arising from exigencies of life. Few had studied public affairs more intelligibly. As a constant and effective member of the democratic party, he had become conspicuous by the championship of its doctrines. There was no topic of national moment that did not interest him. Northwestern and Western interests were near his heart.

In person, Mr. Rantoul was of medium height, of spare figure, and restless activity both of mind and body. His manner of speaking was peculiar to himself; with great rapidity of utterance, his sentences were simple in their construction, and his language selected less with reference to ornament than to strength. Devoted to his profesion and studies, of abstemious habits, great purity of character, the friend of all moral movements of society, he was snatched away in the prime of life, when his talents, matured by earnest study, were unfolding themselves to the world with much power.

Franklin Pierce, president of the United States, is the son of Benjamin Pierce, who rose to the rank of brigade-major in the American army during the revolutionary war, and held several political offices in the state of New Hampshire. Franklin Pierce was born in the western part of that state, in the town of Hillsborough in 1804, and after completing his academical studies, entered Bowdoin college, Maine. Immediately on leaving college he commenced his legal studies with Judge Howe, of Northampton, Mass., but subsequently returned to his native state and, finally finished his studies at Amherst Mass. He was admitted to the bar and commenced the practice of his profession in his native town; but before the end of two years he was elected a representative in the state legislature, and during his second year’s service was chosen speaker of the house. In 1833 he was elected to congress, and remained a member of the house of representatives for four years. During this period, General Pierce, although a firm supporter of democratic measures, seldom distinguished himself as a debater, being modest and unassuming in his character, and rather quick to hear and slow to speak. In 1837 he was elected a member of the United States senate, but, after five years’ service in that body, resigned his seat, intending to devote himself wholly to his profession. He had been more than ten years in public life and he felt the necessity of giving his attention to his private affairs, which had suffered in his absence. He accordingly settled in Concord, the capital of his native state, and resumed his practice at the bar, with a firm resolution to be withdrawn for the future from public life. He rose to high distinction as an advocate, being considered one of the ablest lawyers in New Hampshire. He firmly adhered to his resolution of accepting no political office; he declined to be a candidate for governor of the state, or United States senator, and he also refused the offices of attorney-general and secretary of war, which were tendered him by President Polk. On the breaking out of the Mexican war, however, General Pierce, deeming that his services were required in the cause of his country, enrolled himself as a private soldier in the New England regiment, but President Polk sent him a colonel’s commission, and subequently raised him to the rank of brigadier-general in March, 1847. His command consisted of 2,500 men, with whom he landed at Vera Cruz, June 28, 1847. He distinguished himself in most of the battles which were fought between Vera Cruz and the city of Mexico, and made himself highly popular with the men under his command. On the restoration of peace between the two countries, he resigned his commission, and returned home, where he met with a brilliant reception from his fellow-citizens. He was elected president of the United States in 1852.

Samuel Finley Breese Morse, an American artist, better known, perhaps, as the inventor of the electric telegraph, is the eldest son of the Rev. Jedediah Morse, the first American geographer, and was born in Charlestown, Massachusetts, April 27, 1791. He was educated at Yale College, where he graduated in 1810. He had from a very early age determined to be a painter; and his father finding his passion for art incorrigible, consented to indulge him in his wishes; and he accordingly sailed for England, under the charge of Mr. Allston, and arrived in London, in August, 1811. Here he formed an intimacy with C. R. Leslie, and the first portraits of either of these artists painted in London were likenesses of each other. Mr. Morse made rapid progress in his profession. In 1813, he exhibited at the Royal Academy his picture of “The Dying Hercules,” of colossal size, which received high praise from the connoisseurs, and the plaster model which he made of the same subject, to assist him in his picture, received the prize in sculpture, the same year. Encouraged by this success, the artist determined to contend for the premium in historical composition offered by the academy the following year. The picture, the subject of which was, “The Judgment of Jupiter, in the case of Apollo, Marpessa, and Idas,” was completed in time, but Mr. Morse was obliged to leave England before the premiums were to be adjudged, and was consequently excluded from the privilege of competing for the prize. Mr. West afterward assured him that he would undoubtedly have won it. On his return to America, he settled in Boston, but he met with so little encouragement, that he removed to New Hampshire, where he found employment in painting portraits at $15 per head. He was induced by his friends to remove to Charleston, South Carolina, and there his art proved more profitable. About 1822, he took up his residence in New York, where he found his works and talents more justly appreciated, and his skill as an artist put into requisition. Under a commission from the corporation, he painted a full length portrait of Lafayette, then on a visit to the United States. It was shortly after this, that Mr. Morse formed that association of artists which resulted in the establishment of the National Academy of Design, of which he was elected president; and it is worthy of note, that the first course of lectures on the subject of art read in America, was delivered by him before the New York Athenæum, and afterward repeated to the students of the academy. In 1829, he paid a second visit to Europe, and remained abroad three years. On his return from Europe, in the packet-ship Sully, in 1832, a gentleman, in describing the experiments that had just been made in Paris with the electro-magnet, the question arose as to the time occupied by the electric fluid in passing through the wire, stated to be about one hundred feet in length. On the reply that it was instantaneous (recollecting the experiments of Franklin,) he suggested that it might be carried to any distance, and that the electric spark could be a means of conveying and recording intelligence. This suggestion, which drew some casual observation of assent from the party, took deep hold of Professor Morse, who undertook to develop the idea which he had originated; and, before the end of the voyage, he had drawn out and written the general plan of the invention with which his name will be inseparably connected. His main object was to effect a communication by means of the electro magnet that would leave a permanent record by signs answering for the alphabet, and which, though carried to any distance, would communicate with any place that might be on the line. His first idea was to pass a strip of paper, saturated with some chemical preparation that would be decomposed when brought in connection with the wire, along which the electric current was passing, and thus form an alphabet by marks, varying in width and number, that could be made upon the paper at the will of the operator, and by this means avoid separating the wire at the different points of communication. On his return to New York, he resumed his profession, still devoting all his spare time, under great disadvantages, to the perfection of his invention. Finding his original plan impracticable, he availed himself of the action of the electro-magnet upon the lever as a mode of using pens and ink, as in the ruling machine. Of these he had five, with the idea of securing the required characters from one of the pens. These he abandoned for pencils, and after a trial of various means for obtaining the end desired, and finding by experiment he could obtain any requisite force from the lever, he adopted the stylus or steel point for indenting the paper, and it is this he has since used. After great difficulty and much discouragement, Professor Morse in 1835 demonstrated the practicability of his invention by completing and putting in operation in the New York university, a model of his ‘Recording Electric Telegraph’—​the whole apparatus, with the exception of a wooden clock which formed part of it, having been made by himself. In 1837, he abandoned his profession, with great regret, hoping to make his invention a means of resuming it, under easier and more agreeable circumstances. In the same year, he filed his caveat at the patent-office in Washington; and it is somewhat singular that, during this year (1837), Wheatstone, in England, and Steinheil, in Bavaria, both invented a magnetic telegraph, differing from the American and from each other. Wheatstone’s is very inferior, not being a recording telegraph, but requiring to be watched by one of the attendants—​the alphabet being made by the deflection of the needle. Steinheil’s, on the contrary, is a recording telegraph, but from its complicated and delicate machinery, has been found impracticable for extended lines. At a convention held in 1851 by Austria, Prussia, Saxony, Wurtemberg, and Bavaria, for the purpose of adopting a uniform system of telegraphing for all Germany, by the advice of Steinheil, Professor Morse’s was the one selected. From the sultan of Turkey he received the first foreign acknowledgment of his invention in the bestowal of a nishan, or order—​the ‘order of glory:’ a diploma to that effect was transmitted to him with the magnificent decoration of that order in diamonds. The second acknowledgment was from the king of Prussia, being a splendid gold snuffbox, containing in its lid the Prussian gold medal of scientific merit. The latest acknowledgment is from the king of Wurtemberg, who transmitted to him (after the adoption of the Telegraph treaty by the convention above mentioned) the ‘Wurtemberg Gold Medal of Arts and Sciences.’ In 1838, he went to England, for the purpose of securing a patent there, but was refused through the influence of Wheatstone and his friends, under the pretense that his invention had already been published there. All that could be adduced in proof of this was the publication in an English scientific periodical of an extract copied from the New York ‘Journal of Commerce,’ stating the results of his invention, without giving the means by which they were produced. In the following spring, he returned to this country, and in 1840 perfected his patent at Washington, and set about getting his telegraph into practical operation. In 1844, the first electric telegraph was completed in the United States, between Baltimore and Washington; and the first intelligence of a public character which passed over the wires was the announcement of the nomination of James K. Polk, as the democratic candidate for the presidency, by the Baltimore convention. Since then, he has seen its wires extend all over the country, to the length of more than fifteen thousand miles—​an extent unknown elsewhere in the civilized world. His success has led to the invasion of his patent rights by others, whom he has finally succeeded in defeating, after an expensive and protracted litigation. Professor Morse still clings to the idea of resuming his early profession of painting, to which he is strongly attached, and in the progress of which he has always taken a deep interest. As an artist, he has always enjoyed a very high reputation. His tastes inclined to historical painting, but circumstances did not often permit him to indulge in it; he was mainly engaged in the painting of portraits. In 1820, he painted a large picture of the interior of the house of representatives, with portraits of the members, which passed into the possession of an English gentleman; and in 1832, while in Paris, he made a beautiful picture of the Louvre gallery, copying in miniature the most valuable paintings. He resides at Locust Grove, two miles south of Poughkeepsie, on the banks of the Hudson river.

This far-famed Frenchman, who has given his name to the art which he first discovered, the Daguerreotype, died not long since, at his residence, near Paris. The likeness which we present herewith, is from an original, taken after his own style and invention, and is necessarily correct. It would be superfluous for us to enlarge upon the merits of an art so familiar to all. Daguerre was an artist, a painter, and also possessed considerable chemical talent and taste; and it was while experimenting for other purposes, that he discovered the art which now bears his name. It was destined, however, to be wonderfully improved by other hands, and it is said that the Americans have produced by far the most perfect and beautiful specimens of the art that have ever yet been exhibited. Daguerre was favorably known to the world before the announcement of his discovery of the Daguerreotype. His attempts to improve panoramic paintings, and the production of dioramic effects, were crowned with the most eminent success. His pictures attracted much attention at the time of their exhibition. In them the alternate effects of night and day—​of storm and sunshine—​were beautifully produced. To these effects of light were added others, arising from the decomposition of form, by means of which, for example, in the ‘Midnight Mass,’ figures appeared where the spectators had just beheld seats, altars, etc.; or, again, as in ‘The Valley of Goldau,’ in which rocks tumbling from the mountains replaced the prospect of a smiling valley. He was in the 62d year of his age at the time of his death, and is represented to have been an extremely modest and worthy man, and one devoted to his profession of the fine arts.

Victor Hugo, a politician, one of the most prominent living French writers, was born February 26, 1802. The political contrariety which has marked his career may be said to have been inherited by Hugo, his father having been one of the first volunteers of the republic, and his mother, a Vendéan by birth and sentiment, a proscribed royalist, wandering while yet a girl in the Bocage of La Vendée. At the date of his birth, his father was a colonel in the army of Napoleon; and the child, born almost amid the roar of cannon, followed with its mother the steps of Bonaparte. From Besancon he was carried to Elba, from Elba to Paris, from Paris to Rome, from Rome to Naples, before he was five years of age, so that he exclaims, ‘I made the tour of Europe before I began to live.’ In Naples he resided about ten years, his father having been appointed governor of Avellino. In 1809 he returned to France with his two brothers and his mother, by whom he was educated within the walls of the convent of the Feuillantes, where the family had taken up its residence. He here received the benefit of classical instruction from an old general, whom his mother was then concealing from the imperial police. At the close of 1811, his father, then a general and majordomo of Joseph Bonaparte’s palace at Madrid, sent for his family to join him in that capital, and Victor accompanied his mother to Spain. He remained at Madrid about a year, and returned to the old convent until the restoration of 1814. This event, by exciting in his mother and father the opposite feelings of joy and indignant grief, led to their separation. Victor was placed by his father in a private academy, where he studied mathematics, it is said with great success, previous to his intended removal to the polytechnic school. In 1816 he published his parable of ‘The Rich and Poor,’ and an elegy called the ‘Canadian.’ In 1817 he was a competitor for a prize on the ‘Advantages of Study,’ offered by the academy. In 1819, having committed himself to a literary career with his father’s consent, he wrote two odes, entitled ‘The Virgins of Verdun,’ and ‘The Restoration of the Statue of Henri IV,’ and sent them to the Academy of Floral Fêtes, at Toulouse, by which they were both crowned. In 1820 he published his ‘Infant Moses in the Nile.’ In 1822 appeared the first volume of his ‘Odes and Ballads,’ a collection of occasional pieces, all breathing a royalist spirit. His ‘Hans of Iceland,’ and ‘Bug-Jargal,’ though not published until some years later, were written about this time. Before the close of the same year the young poet married Mdlle. Foucher, and rising into distinction as a royalist writer, he received a pension from Louis XVIII. In 1826 he published a second volume of ‘Odes and Ballads,’ which betrayed an inward revolution in his political and literary opinions. In the succeeding year he composed a drama, called ‘Cromwell,’ intended to assert the freedom of the Christian and romantic drama, against the theory of Aristotle’s unity, as understood and practiced by Racine. He prefaced it with a dramatic theory of his own, to which, however, he hardly gave a fair chance of success, since its accompanying illustration contained scarcely a feature of merit. In 1828 he published his ‘Orientals,’ a poem of finished versification, but destitute of force or spirit. In 1829, Victor Hugo published his ‘Last Days of a Condemned Prisoner,’ and so vividly depicted the anticipated tortures of a man left for execution, that the terrific interest of the work gave it an immense success. Hugo now prepared to make a second attack on the stiff and unnatural dramatic system prevalent in his country. On the 26th February, 1830, his ‘Ernani’ was played at the Théâtre Français. The indignation of the old and the enthusiasm of the new party knew no bounds. The academy went so far as to lay a complaint against the innovation at the foot of the throne, but Charles X, with a good sense which would have been very serviceable to him four months later, replied, that ‘in matters of art he was no more than a private person.’ Meanwhile the drama, which was far superior in construction to ‘Cromwell,’ succeeded. Shortly after the revolution of July, his ‘Marion de Lorme,’ embodying his new political tastes, and which had been suppressed by the censorship under the restoration, was brought out, and was considered theatrically successful. In January, 1832, his play, ‘Le Roi S’amuse,’ was performed at the Théâtre Français, and the next day interdicted by the government. This was scarcely necessary, the piece had not been warmly received; in fact, people, however willing to be amused, especially at the expense of monarchs, did not like to see the quondam royalist employed in burlesquing the historical heroes of their country. M. Hugo afterward published a number of dramatic pieces of various merit; among them are ‘Lucrèce Borgia,’ ‘Marie Tudor,’ ‘Angelo,’ and ‘Ruy Blas.’ His greatest novel is ‘Nôtre Dame de Paris.’ He has since produced ‘Chants du Creépuscle,’ and ‘Voix Intérieures.’ In the works of this poet may be found some of the sublimest creations of French poetry. It is to be regretted that, side by side with these, the author’s preverted taste led him to place images the most monstrous and disgusting. He was created a peer of France by Louis Philippe, and, on the downfall of that monarch, avowing the principles of the revolution, was returned to the constituent, and afterward to the national assembly, of which he was one of the few eloquent speakers. He is also a leading member of the Peace Congress, and was its president in 1849—​a position remarkable enough for the author of the bellicose ‘Lettres du Rhin.’ He was an energetic opponent of Louis Napoleon in December, and on that account was compelled to fly to Brussels in an assumed name.

Omar Pasha who commands the Turkish army, is an Austrian subject, and a native of Coroalia. He was born in 1801, at Vaski, a village situated in the circle of Ogulina, thirteen leagues from Fiume. His family name is Lattas. His father was lieutenant-administrator of the circle; his uncle was a priest of the United Greek Church. Admitted, when very young, into the School of Mathematics of Thurm, near Carlstadt, in Transylvania, after having completed his studies with distinction, the young Lattas entered the corps of the Ponts et Chaussees, which, in Austria, is organized on a military footing. In 1830, in consequence of a misunderstanding with his superiors, he left for Turkey, and embraced Islamism. Khosrew Pasha, who was then Seraskier, took him under his protection, procured him admission into the regular army, and attached him to his personal staff. He then gave him his ward in marriage, who was one of the richest heiresses in Constantinople, and a daughter of one of the Janizaries, whose head he had caused to be cut off in 1827, when that corps revolted against Sultan Mahmoud. In 1833, Lattas, who had taken the name of Omar, was chief of battalion, and was appointed aid-de-camp, and interpreter to General Chrzanowski, who had charge of the instruction of the Ottoman troops encamped near Constantinople. Omar was thenceforward actively employed in the reörganization of the Turkish army, and, still protected by Khosrew Pasha, obtained successively important missions and command in the army. The troubles of Syria, and the Albanian insurrection of 1846, gave him occasion to distinguish himself, and attracted to him the attention of the Sultan. He was sent to the Kurdistan, and succeeded in obtaining the submission of that province, which was nearly independent of the Porte. Named in 1848 to the command of the army, sent to the Danubian provinces, he made the authority of the Sultan respected, while at the same time he respected the susceptibilities and the privileges of those provinces, placed, as they were, under the double protection of Russia and Turkey. The year 1851 was the most brilliant period of the military career of Omar Pasha. Named commander-in-chief of Bosnia, the principal chiefs of which had refused to recognize Tanzimat—​that is, the new organization of his empire—​he combatted successfully, though with an inferior force, the Beys of that country. At last he was sent to Montenegro, where he found himself for the first time commanding an army of 30,000 men. The intervention of Austria, as is known, put a term to that expedition before decisive operations could be commenced. At the present date, Omar Pasha is at the head of nearly 100,000 men in the Crimea.

Edward Everett, an American orator, scholar, and diplomatist, was born in Dorchester, Massachusetts, in April 1794. His father was a respectable clergyman in Boston; and his elder brother was minister at the court of Spain. He received his early education at Boston, and entered Harvard college when little more than thirteen years old, leaving it with first honors four years later, undecided as to a pursuit for life. He turned his attention for two years to the profession of divinity; but, in 1814, he was invited to accept the new professorship of Greek literature at Cambridge, Massachusetts, with permission to visit Europe. He accepted the office; and, before entering on its duties, embarked at Boston for Liverpool. He passed more than two years at the famous university of Göttingen, engaged in the study of the German language and the branches of learning connected with his department. He passed the winter of 1817–18 at Paris. The next spring he again visited London, and passed a few weeks at Cambridge and Oxford. While in England, he acquired the friendship of some of the most eminent men of the day; among others, of Scott, Byron, Jeffrey, Campbell, Mackintosh, Romilly, and Davy. In the autumn of 1818, he returned to the continent, and divided the winter between Florence, Rome, and Naples. In the spring of 1819, he made a short tour in Greece. Mr. Everett came home in 1819, and entered at once upon the duties of his professorship. Soon after his return, he became the editor of the ‘North American Review,’ a journal, which, though supported by writers of great ability, had acquired only a limited circulation. Under its new editor, the demand increased so rapidly that a second and sometimes a third edition of its numbers was required. One of his first cares as editor was, to vindicate American principles and institutions against a crowd of British travelers and critics, who were endeavoring to bring them into contempt. The spirit with which he performed his task checked this system of assault; and Campbell, who had inadvertently admitted into ‘The New Monthly Magazine’ a paper of the same description, made a handsome amende. In 1824, Mr. Everett delivered the annual oration before the Phi-Beta-Kappa Society, at Cambridge, Massachusetts. The entire discourse was favorably received; but the peroration, being an apostrophe to Lafayette, who was present, touched a chord of sympathy in an immense audience, already excited by the unusual circumstances of the occasion. This was the first of a series of orations and addresses delivered by Everett on public occasions of almost every kind during a quarter of a century, and lately collected in two volumes. Up to 1824, he had taken no active interest in politics; but his articles in the review had evinced his acquaintance with the wants and spirit of the nation, and his recent oration had brought him prominently before the public. The constituency of Middlesex, Massachusetts, without any solicitation on his part, returned him to congress by a great majority over the regular candidate. For ten years he sat in congress, and proved himself a working member, never taking advantage of his superior powers to detain the house with oratorical display, but taking part in every debate of importance. In 1835, he retired from congress, and was for four successive years chosen governor of Massachusetts. In 1839, he was again a candidate for the same honor, but was defeated on local questions by a majority of one out of more than 100,000 votes. In 1841, he was appointed to represent the United States at the court of St. James, a position for which he was peculiarly qualified by his knowledge of the European tongues, and his acquaintance with the then mooted boundary question. Although the secretaryship of state at Washington was held by four different statesmen, of various politics, during Everett’s mission, he enjoyed the confidence and approbation of all. His firmness, high intelligence, and assiduous habits, won him great respect in England; and his scholarship was recognized in the bestowal of the degree of D. C. L. by the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. He returned to America in 1845, and was chosen president of Harvard college, which office he resigned in 1849. He now lives at Boston, employed on his promised ‘Treatise on the Law of Nations.’

Washington Irving was born in the city of New York, April 3, 1783, in which place his father, William Irving, had been settled as a merchant some twenty years. After receiving an ordinary school education, at the age of sixteen, he commenced the study of the law. Three years later he contributed, under the signature of Jonathan Oldstyle, a series of letters to the ‘Morning Chronicle,’ a newspaper of which his brother, Peter Irving, was editor. These juvenile essays attracted much notice at the time, were extensively copied by other journals, and in 1823 or 1824 were collected and published without the sanction of the author. In 1804, in consequence of ill health, he sailed for Bordeaux on a visit to Europe, and traveled through the south of France to Nice, where he took a felucca to Genoa, in which city he remained some two months. He then went by sea to Sicily, made the tour of the island, crossed from Palermo to Naples, passed through Italy, meeting Allston at Rome, who strongly recommended his devoting himself to art, thence over the St. Gothard, through Switzerland to Paris, where he remained several months. He then went to Holland, whence he embarked for England, where he spent part of the autumn, and returned to New York in March, 1806, completely restored to health. He again resumed the study of the law, and was admitted to the bar in November of that year, but never practiced. Shortly after he took the chief part in ‘Salmagundi,’ the first number of which appeared in January, 1807, and the last in January, 1808. In December the following year, he published his ‘Knickerbocker’s History of New York.’ In 1810, two of his brothers, who were engaged in commercial business, one being at the head of the establishment in New York, and the other in Liverpool, gave him an interest in the concern, with the understanding that he was not to enter into the duties and details of the business, but pursue his literary avocations. During the war with Great Britain, in 1813–14, he edited the ‘Analectic Magazine,’ and in the fall of the latter year, joined the military staff of the governor of the state of New York, as aid-de-camp, and military secretary, with the title of colonel. On the close of the war, May, 1815, he embarked for Liverpool, with the intention of making a second tour of Europe, but was prevented by the sudden and great reverses which followed the return of peace, overwhelming, after a struggle of two or three years, in which Mr. Irving took an active part to avert the catastrophe, the house in which his brothers had given him an interest, and involving him in its ruin. In 1818, he determined to try his pen as a means of support, and commenced the papers of the ‘Sketch-Book,’ which were transmitted piecemeal from London, where he resided, to New York for publication. Three or four numbers were thus published, when, finding that they attracted notice in England, he had them published in a volume, February, 1820, by Mr. John Miller; but he failing shortly after, the work was transferred to Mr. Murray, with a second volume, published in July of that year. Mr. Murray had bought the copyright for £200, but its success far surpassing his expectations, he sent Mr. Irving, of his own accord, first £100, and the sale still increasing, an additional £100. After a residence of five years in England, Mr. Irving removed to Paris in August, 1820, and remained there till July of the following year, when he returned to England and published his ‘Bracebridge Hall’ in London and New York in May, 1822. The following winter he passed in Dresden, returned to Paris in 1823, and crossed to London in May, 1824, to publish his ‘Tales of a Traveler,’ which appeared in August of that year in two volumes, and in four parts in New York. In August, he returned to Paris, and in the autumn of 1825, visited the south of France, spending part of the winter in Bordeaux. In February, 1826, he left that city for Madrid, where he remained two years. Here he wrote the life of ‘Columbus,’ which appeared in 1828. In the spring of 1828, he left Madrid on a tour to the south of Spain, visiting Granada and the main points mentioned in the ‘Chronicles of the Conquest of Granada, by Fray Agapida,’ of which he had made a rough sketch. This he prepared for the press at Seville, and transmitted to London and New York for publication; it appeared in 1829. In the spring of this year he again visited Granada, and resided some three months in the Alhambra, where he collected materials for the work published under that name in 1832. In July he went to England, being appointed secretary of legation to the American embassy in London, which office he held until the return of Mr. M’Lane in 1831, when, after remaining a few months as chargé, he resigned, on the arrival of Mr. Van Buren. While in England, in 1830, Mr. Irving received one of the fifty-guinea gold-medals, provided by George IV, for eminence in historical composition; the other was awarded to Mr. Hallam, the historian. In 1831, the university of Oxford conferred on Mr. Irving the degree of LL.D. In the spring of 1832, he returned to New York, after an absence of seventeen years. His return was greeted on all hands with the warmest enthusiasm; a public dinner was given to him, at which Chancellor Kent presided; and similar testimonials were offered in other cities, but which he declined. In the summer of this year he accompanied Mr. Ellsworth, one of the commissioners for removing the Indian tribes west of the Mississippi, and whom he had met on a tour to the west, on his expedition. The most interesting portion of this journey has appeared in the ‘Tour on the Prairies,’ published in 1835. This was followed in the same year by ‘Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey,’ and ‘Legends of the Conquest of Spain.’ In 1836 he published ‘Astoria,’ and in the following year he published ‘The Adventures of Captain Bonneville.’ In 1839 he entered into an engagement which lasted two years, with the proprietors of the ‘Knickerbocker Magazine,’ to furnish monthly articles for that periodical. In February, 1842, he received, unsolicited, the appointment of minister to Spain. He left for Madrid on the 10th of April of that year. His official duties terminating in the summer of 1846, he returned to this country, and, in 1848, commenced the publication of a revised edition of his works which had long been out of print. In 1849 he published ‘Oliver Goldsmith, a Biography,’ and ‘Mahomet and his Successors,’ 1849–50. He has recently published a life of Washington. Mr. Irving is essentially the man of his works, genial, warm-hearted, and benevolent; so much so, that all who see him would be apt to forget the author in the man. He has a countryseat, ‘Sunnyside,’ on the banks of the Hudson, twenty-five miles from the city of New York, which is now his home.

William Cullen Bryant, an American journalist and poet, was born at Cummington, Hampshire county, Massachusetts, November 3d, 1794. His forefathers, for three generations, were medical men; but this family penchant for physic did not exist, apparently, in the case of our poet, who changed the professional current by becoming a lawyer. For ten years he followed the tortuous course of legal practice, but at last gave it up for the more genial profession of literature. In 1808, Mr. Bryant published a little collection of poems, written before he had completed his fourteenth year, entitled, ‘The Embargo, and other Poems.’ In 1821, he published at Cambridge, Massachusetts, the volume entitled, ‘The Ages, and other Poems.’ In 1825, he came to New York, when he became one of the editors of the ‘New York Review’ (which, however, had but a short existence), and published several poems and tales, which quickly became popular. From this point he went on successfully, writing in the chief periodical publications, in conjunction with some of the leading American authors of his day, and becoming, moreover, the editor of a New York paper, the ‘Evening Post.’ In 1834–35, and also in 1845, he traveled in Europe, writing descriptions of what he saw for his journal in America. Mr. Bryant again visited Europe in 1849, and on his return published his ‘Letters of a Traveler,’ being a resume of his tours in Europe and this country. He has gained a high reputation by his poems; and his political writings in favor of free trade and free discussion, against monopolies of all kinds, are marked with clearness and vigor. He has labored earnestly to diffuse a taste for the fine arts in this country, and was president of the Apollo Association, prior to its incorporation as the American Art Union.

George Bancroft, the distinguished American author and historian, was born at Worcester, Massachusetts, in the year of 1800. His father, who was himself an author and a doctor of divinity, gave to his son’s mind the bent and disposition which in after-years conducted him to celebrity, position, and power. Not yet seventeen, Mr. Bancroft graduated at Harvard college, with honors, and soon entered upon a course of literary pursuits, having as their ultimate end the profession of a historian. In 1818, he went to Europe, and there studied at Göttingen and Berlin, enjoying the high advantages of the most thorough system of instruction and the society of distinguished and cultivated men. After an absence of four years, during which he traveled in England, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy, he returned to the United States. His first sphere of labor was naturally in accordance with his previous life, and he was appointed tutor of Greek in Harvard college. A love of intellectual independence and the desire to engraft upon the academic system in New England the German method of instruction, led him in company with a literary friend, to separate labors in the field of instruction, which were pursued for some time in the interior of New England, but afterward abandoned for duties of a more public and permanent character. During the interval of severer labors, Mr. Bancroft made many contributions to American literature, especially from the stores of German thought and intellect, then comparatively sealed, even to educated men in the United States. He early adopted decided political opinions, attaching himself to the democratic party, in whose behalf his first vote was cast. In 1826, in a public oration, afterward published, he announced as his creed ‘universal suffrage and uncompromising democracy;’ and in the ranks of the liberal party he rose to political preferment and distinction rarely attained by one whose career at the outset was so purely that of a scholar. In 1834, Mr. Bancroft published the first volume of his ‘History of the United States,’ a work to which he had long devoted his thoughts and researches and in which he laid the foundation of a reputation at once permanent and universal. The first and two succeeding volumes of the work, comprising the colonial history of the country, were hailed with the highest satisfaction, as exhibiting for the first time, in a profound and philosophical manner, not only the facts but the ideas and principles of American history. In January, 1838, Mr. Bancroft received from President Van Buren the appointment of collecter of the port of Boston, a post of more responsibility than profit, which he occupied until the year 1841, discharging its duties with a fidelity which proved that a man of letters may also be a man of business, in the strictest sense of the term. In 1844, he was the candidate of the democracy of Massachusetts for the office of governor of the state; and though the party was in the minority, his unusually large vote, greater than that which any other democratic candidate has since received, attested his popularity. In the spring of 1845, Mr. Bancroft was called by President Polk to a seat in the cabinet, and the administration of the navy department, over which he presided with an energy and efficiency which, notwithstanding the short period of his connection with it, perpetuated themselves in numerous reforms and improvements, of lasting utility to the naval service. In 1846, he was appointed minister-plenipotentiary to Great Britain, and there represented the United States, until succeeded by Mr. Abbott Lawrence, in 1849. In England, the prestige of Mr. Bancroft’s literary reputation and his high social qualities contributed to enhance the popularity and respect which attached to him during his entire diplomatic career, which was one of complete satisfaction to the government which he represented and to that to which he was accredited. On his return, he fixed his residence in the city of New York, and resumed more actively the prosecution of his historical labors. The fourth volume of his history appeared early in 1852. It includes the opening scenes of the great drama of American independence, and amply sustains the interest and dignity of the work by which Mr. Bancroft has inseparably linked his name with the annals of his country.

William Hickling Prescott, an eminent American historian, was born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1796, the son of an able lawyer, and grandson of that Prescott who commanded our troops at Bunker’s Hill. When he was twelve years of age his family removed to Boston, where Prescott has since resided, and where his classical training, begun in the place of his birth, was continued with success by Dr. Gardiner, a pupil of Dr. Parr. In 1811 he entered Harvard college, and was graduated there in 1814, with honors appropriate to his favorite studies, and with an intention to devote himself to the legal profession. But the great misfortune of his life had already befallen him. Before he had been graduated, an accidental blow had deprived him of the sight of one eye, and the natural consequences soon followed. The other became weakened by the increased labor thrown upon it; and, after a severe illness, during which he was entirely blind, he found the sight of his remaining eye so much impaired, that he was compelled to give up his professional studies and his hopes of success at the bar. The next two years he spent in Europe, traveling for his health in England, France, and Italy, and seeking the aid of the great oculists of London and Paris. He returned to America with renovated health, but for his misfortune found no relief. Still he was not disheartened, but turned with alacrity to those studies which remained yet within his reach. He resolved to become, in the best sense of the word, a historian, and freely gave himself ten years to prepare for the task, by a course of the classical reading he had always loved. He then selected his subject, and, having done this, gave ten years more to his ‘History of Ferdinand and Isabella,’ one of the few important periods in the affairs of modern Europe that seemed to invite the hand of a master. With this great work, in 1838, at the age of forty-two, he appeared before the world as an author, publishing simultaneously in London and Boston. It was received on both sides of the Atlantic, with unhesitating applause. It has since run through many editions, and been translated into German, Italian, French, and Spanish. During his labor on this work, Mr. Prescott’s vision had been somewhat improved by a diminution of the sensibility which had led to earlier inflammations, and which had compelled him to live in a darkened apartment, relying entirely on a reader when collecting his materials. His ‘Conquest of Mexico,’ therefore, first printed in 1843, though prepared largely from manuscript documents, was perhaps a work of less troublesome toil than his first had been. The prompt honors that it received were even more brilliant than those paid to the ‘Ferdinand and Isabella,’ and having before been admitted to several of the distinguished academies of Europe, he was now elected a member of the French institute. His ‘Conquest of Peru’ appeared in 1847. It is marked by the same striking events which distinguished its predecessors, and is, with the exception of a volume of collated miscellanies, his last work. It is understood that he is now engaged in writing a ‘History of Philip II.’ In 1850 he made a short visit to England, where he was received with marked kindness and respect by whatever is most distinguished in society and letters, and where the ancient university of Oxford conferred on him the honorary degree of doctor in the civil law.

Hiram Powers, sculptor, was born in Woodstock, Vermont, July 29, 1805. He was the eighth child of a family of nine, and his parents were plain country people, who cultivated a little farm. He acquired such education as the district school afforded, and he also found leisure to get some knowledge of divers kinds of handicraft, among which was the art of drawing. His father finding it difficult to maintain his family upon his farm removed to Ohio, where he shortly after died, and the future artist was thrown upon his own resources. He set out for Cincinnati to seek his fortune, and found employment in a reading-room connected with one of the principal hotels of the city, and afterwards became clerk in a produce store, where he remained until his principal failed. He then found a situation with a clockmaker, by whom he was employed in collecting debts, and afterwards in the mechanical part of the business; but, although this employment was not disagreeable to him, he aspired to some higher branch of the arts. In Cincinnati, he made the acquaintance of a Prussian, who was engaged upon a bust of general Jackson, and with some little instruction in the art of modeling obtained from him, Mr. Powers was soon able to produce busts in plaster of considerable merit, in fact one of his earliest he has declared, himself, to have been unsurpassed in likeness and finish by any of his later works. He then felt that his vocation was the arts, and he formed a connection with the Western Museum at Cincinnati, where, for about seven years, he superintended the artistic department, such as wax-work shows etc. After leaving this place he visited Washington in 1835, hoping to gain some reputation as an artist, which would enable him to increase his business, and furnish him the means of visiting Italy. In this he was not disappointed. After spending some time in the capital engaged in taking the busts of the most eminent men of the day, he was enabled, by the liberality of Mr. N. Longworth, to accomplish his long-cherished scheme; and in 1837 he landed in Florence. For some time after his arrival he continued to devote himself principally to busts, but he soon determined to employ his spare time on the production of an ideal work; the subject determined upon was ‘Eve.’ Just before the model of this statue was completed, Mr. Powers received a visit from the celebrated Thorwalsden, who was then passing through Florence. He expressed himself in terms of high admiration of the artist’s busts; and, in reference to these, declared Powers to be the greatest sculptor since Michael Angelo. The statue of ‘Eve’ also excited his admiration: and to the artist’s apology that it was his first statue, he replied that any man might well be proud of it, as his last. When the model of ‘Eve’ was completed, he began the ‘Greek Slave,’ which was finished in eight months. This, the best known and most admired of all Mr. Powers’ works, has been exhibited throughout the United States, and at the Great Exhibition at London. There are two copies in existence besides the original, one of which recently formed one of the prizes distributed by the Western Art-Union. Among some of his finest works are portraits of Jackson, Webster, Adams, Calhoun, Chief-Justice Marshall and many persons of less eminence. He has also produced some ideal busts; the ‘Proserpine’ is one of the finest.

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From the semi-barbarous epoch of the middle ages to the present century, which has seen the birth of steam navigation, the form and rig of vessels have undergone many modifications. We are about to give a rapid historical sketch of these, quoting, as far as possible, those types of naval architecture celebrated in preceding centuries. Still, we are hardly permitted to go back farther than the ninth century, where we find some certain ideas respecting the Scandinavian vessels. Before this period all is confusion, and leaves us full of uncertainty. We know well that the ancient Trireme gave birth to a sort of row-galleys known in the fifth century by the name of Dromons; but we have no positive details respecting the precise form of these vessels. In the sixth century, the Emperor Maurice, in a treatise on the military art, spoke of them as vessels particularly contrived for battle. Three hundred years later, the Emperor Leo, who wrote on the same subject, said that the dromon was long, and broad in proportion to its length, and that it carried on each side two banks of oars, one above the other, of twenty-five each; but nothing further to enlighten us. As for the Norman vessels from the ninth to the twelfth century, we know the drakar (dragon), which was as much of a dragon as the ancient Pristis was a whale—​that is to say, that at the summit of her prow rose a figure carved into a dragon, and that her form had something that resembled a serpent. All of the dragons were not of the same size. The dragon of Alaf Tryggrasson is spoken of in cotemporary histories as the giant of Scandinavian vessels.

Never was one seen larger, finer, or more imposing in bulk and decoration. She had thirty-four oars on each side. If the tradition is accurate, she must have been as long as the galleys of the sixteenth century. It was, it will be seen, a vessel of considerable importance; for galleys with twenty-six oars only were about one hundred and thirty feet long. The dragons were built to resist a sea more stormy than the Mediterranean. Consequently they had broad sides and a vast stern, so as to have a firm seat on the water. They were flatbottomed, and drew very little water. Besides the draker, the Scandinavians had the sekkar, or serpent vessel, which had twenty benches of rowers. Its form differed little from that of the dragon. It was only shorter, shallower and narrower. All Norman vessels were alike in bow and stern. But some war vessels had a little building on the poop called the castle. This castle was a little embattled platform, where the archers and slingers were placed. It would be difficult to tell precisely what the internal arrangements of the Scandinavian vessels were. The smallest were not probably decked. As for the larger ones, they doubtless had a deck like the galleys; and beneath this deck a hold, apportioned according to their wants, to rooms, magazines and stables for their horses. The Scandinavian vessels had only one mast, with a vane and four or five shrouds. The sail was square, attached to a yard, furnished with sheets at its lower angles, and managed by two braces that belayed aft. The yard had a halyard passing through a block at the mast head. As for the rudder, it consisted of two blades, large, crutchhandled oars, near the stern, on the right, and also left of the vessel. The anchors of the Normans were like oars, but they did not have that cross-bar of wood we call the stock. In the twelfth century we see the galleys, according to Wenesalf, which were only little light dromons, built particularly for speed, and having only one tier of oars. The following is a textual passage from this writer relating to them:—​‘What the ancients called liburnus, the moderns have named galley. It is a ship of no great depth, armed at the prow with a motionless piece of wood, vulgarly called calcar (spur), an instrument with which the galley pierces the enemy’s ships that she strikes.’ A diminutive of the galley was the galleon, which, being shorter and swifter, was better suited for discharging the Greek fire. For the rest, starting from this invention, the action of the shock of the calcar was by degrees replaced by the hand to hand struggle.

Among the galleys, which afterwards gave birth to the galea grossa, in assuming more capacity and more amplitude, some were manœuvred by two oars to the bench, others three. It is even certain that, at a later period, in the sixteenth century, the strongest ones had as many as five oars, which appears incredible. The galleys possessed only one mast, which was stepped rather forward—​that is, in the first third of the vessel. In the thirteenth century, the fleet which St. Louis took with him towards the Holy Land, gives proof of the thorough modifications which naval structures have undergone. St. Louis could only collect the eighteen hundred vessels which composed his fleet, without recourse to the marine of neighboring states—​Genoa and Venice among others. Now, the contracts for hire he exchanged with Venice for many vessels, give us information with respect to one called the St. Mary, represented in the engraving. This vessel had two decks and two masts. It possessed two poops, placed above each other, two platforms, an upper deck, and a fighting gallery of four or five feet overhanging the poop. This ship, manned by one hundred and ten sailors, was one hundred feet long. The same contracts give us also information concerning another vessel, called the Rochefort. Although not so long as the St. Mary, she was stronger and broader. She had two rudders; one to starboard, and the other to larboard. Her sparring consisted, also, of two masts; one at the prow, and the other amidships. The mainmast was smaller and lower than the foremast. It had only twenty-six braces, while the other had twenty-eight. The sails of almost all the fleet were of cotton. All the sails were rectangular triangles with the hypothenuse attached to the yard, and were called antennal. Still, it is proper to mention the assertion of some authors, that the sails of St. Louis’ vessels were square. Their assertions were only founded on the form and dimensions of the yards, which all the documents of the time represent as very long and slung by the middle. We ought to observe that, in speaking of the St. Mary and the Rochefort, Venetian ships, we have indirectly spoken of naval constructions coming from the ports of France and those of other European countries. At this period, all vessels, Genoese, Castilian, French, etc., resembled each other; and to be acquainted with one was to know all. The galleys of the thirteenth century were thus somewhat changed. Lighter, sharper than those of the preceding century, in the fourteenth, the kind called ‘subtle galleys,’ were observed to preponderate. These galleys, extremely light and swift, were furnished on each side with from twenty-four to twenty-six oars, and might have been from one hundred and ten to one hundred and twenty feet in length. Still, in the fourteenth century, and even in the fifteenth and sixteenth, the most celebrated ships were the carracks. Their tonnage may be estimated by their cargoes, which sometimes amounted to fourteen hundred casks.

In 1359, the Castilians took a Venetian carrack, which had three ‘covers’ (decks), and must consequently have been as high as the great storeships of the seventeenth century. In 1545, a French carrack, the Carraquon, which passed for the finest ship and fastest sailer of the western ocean, was of eight hundred tons burthen, and had one hundred pieces of artillery of all calibers for armament. The carracks of the fourteenth century had only two masts; in the fifteenth, they took three, and afterwards four. At first three-decked, they finally reached as high as seven decks. The poop and prow were the height of three or four men above the deck, and looked like castles raised at each of the extremities. The castles mounted each from thirty-five to forty guns. In the galleys, the employment of fire-arms did not effect material changes; the prow alone, somewhat shortened, was armed with a gun mounted on a mass of wood destined for its recoil, and extending amidships through the whole length of the vessel. This piece of wood was called the coursie, and the gun placed upon it the courser. At the sides, upright carriages supported a few falconets and other pieces of small ordnance. The galeass, originating in the galea grossa, as the latter did in the galley, carried, as well as the carrack and other ships, a castle at the bow and a castle at the stern. In the former, there were twelve guns in three tiers; in the latter, ten only in two tiers. She had thirty-two benches of rowers, and between each of her benches rose a swivel on a point. This, it will be perceived, was a formidable armament. The galeass had three masts and lateen sails. The Venetians made great use of this vessel. Their famous Bucentaur belonged to this class. At the end of the fifteenth century, when Christopher Columbus armed his vessels at Palos, he formed his little flotilla exclusively of caravels. Now, this name of caravel, which in the outset belonged only to a common barque, was at this time borne by a vessel of considerable, but not extraordinary size. The caravel had four masts; the forward one with a square sail surmounted by a topsail, the three others each carrying a lateen sail. These sails enabled the caravel to manœuvre well, and she was as prompt to handle as the French tartane, much renowned at that epoch. She came about as quickly as if she had been a row-boat. She had but one deck, and very little carrying capacity. Still, if the caravels of Christopher Columbus were smaller than those of a later period, at the close of the sixteenth century, they were large enough to contain ninety seamen and the provision necessary for a long voyage. The flag ship of Columbus was called the Santa Maria; the two other, La Pinta and La Nina. A passage in the journal of Columbus himself, gives a detail of the canvass of the Santa Maria. ‘The wind,’ says he, ‘became mild and manageable, and I set all the sails of the vessel—​the mainsail with the two studding sails, the foresail, the spritsail, the mizzen and the topsail.’ The caravels then had, like all the great vessels of the period, a castle at the bow and a castle at the stern. They made, on an average, six knots an hour. Columbus was only thirty-five days in going from Palos to San Salvador—​an ordinary passage even in these days of quick sailing. The sixteenth century was an epoch of progress for the marine; England particularly gave it the onward impulse. Meanwhile, an important invention, that of gun-ports, was due to a Frenchman, of Brest, named Descharges. The system then adopted for the arrangement of batteries has never since been changed, and exists to the present time. Historians and antiquaries have taken great pains to arrive at a knowledge of the forms of ships of war at this period. The documents written and drawn are, some so confused, others so deficient in proportion and perspective, that it is difficult to understand them.

Still, as some authentic details respecting the Great Harry are known, this ship may serve to give an idea of the navy of the sixteenth century; and we have accordingly presented our readers with an engraving of this formidable vessel. Up to the seventeenth century, one model seems to have prevailed in all naval constructions. The Spaniards and the Portuguese followed the example of the Venetians; the Dutch and the northern nations derived their nautical knowledge from the same sources; the English themselves, so jealous of their naval supremacy, received their lessons in improving and strengthening their embarkations from Italian masters. They were accustomed to place at the extremity of the prow a sculptured figure, which served to distinguish the vessels of one nation from another. The Venetians adopted a bust from preference; the Spaniards, a lion; the English, especially after the accession of the Stuarts, the figures of the reigning monarch, either on horseback, or riding on a lion. The stern, above the cabin windows, presented a plane surface or tablet, with apertures for light and air, starboard and larboard. On Venetian, Spanish and Portuguese stern some saint or hero was placed. Other nations had only the arms of their respective states. Before the end of the sixteenth century, some Portuguese and Spanish vessels carried as many as eighty guns mounted on carriages. At this period, the strongest vessel of the English navy carried but fifty guns or pieces deserving that name. The ‘Sovereign of the Seas,’ built in 1637, at Woolwich, Kent, ‘to the great glory of His Britannic Majesty,’ as a cotemporary description we have before us declares, was decorated in a style of regal magnificence. On her bow was king Edgar, on horseback, trampling on seven kings; on the stern, a cupid on a lion; and grouped together, at the bow, six statues, representing Counsel, Prudence, Perseverance, Strength, Courage and Victory. On the quarter-deck, four figures, with their attributes, Jupiter, with his eagle, Mars, with sword and shield, Neptune, with his sea-horse, and Eolus on a cameleon. On the stern, a Victory displayed her wings, and bore a scroll with this device: Validis incumbite remis. This vessel had two galleries on each side. These galleries, as well as the whole vessel, were covered with trophies, emblems and scutcheons, of all kinds. Her length from stem to stern was 232 feet. She carried five lanterns, one of which, the largest, could contain ten persons, standing, with ease. She had three decks running from stem to stern, a forecastle-deck, a half-deck, a quarter-deck, and a poop-deck. Her armament was as follows: thirty ports, with large and small guns, in the lower battery; thirty ports, with culverins, in the second battery; twelve ports in the forecastle, and fourteen on the half-deck; finally, thirteen or fourteen swivels, a multitude of port-holes for musketry, ten bow-chasers, and as many stern-chasers. There were twelve anchors. ‘The Sovereign of the Seas,’ says Charnock, ‘was the first large vessel constructed in England. Splendor and magnificence were particularly kept in view in building her. She was in some sort the occasion of the serious complaints made of the expenses of the navy in the reign of Charles I. Cut down one deck, she became one of the best ships of war in the whole world.’ It is certain that the suppression of this deck, and the lowering of her deck-cabin, gave her more stability than she had at first. Now, for speed, what she gained in strength by these changes was compensated by the length added to her masts. Topsails at this period were an important addition to ships. Old engravings show us the vessels of the sixteenth century sailing generally under their courses. After the building of the Sovereign of the Seas, this only occurred in particular cases and certain conditions of the elements. Captain Phineas Pett directed the work of building and afterwards improving the Sovereign of the Seas. A learned engineer, he deserves the credit of having done more than any one else to give an impulse to the English navy. The artillery was strengthened, and the crews larger, and better lodged. The entire navy felt this progress. The Sovereign of the Seas gauged 1637 tons, a thing which, according to a historian of the time, deserved the attention of the whole world, since it represented exactly the date of her launch. Notwithstanding the thrice-fortunate augury which the historian saw in this coïncidence, the Sovereign of the Seas met with the fate of the Great Harry. She was destroyed, like the latter, by fire, in a ship-yard, where she was being repaired, in 1696, after sixty years’ service. Observe here that Fuller, in his history of the ‘Wonders of England,’ acknowledges that at the commencement of the seventeenth century, the Dunkirkers furnished the models of the best vessels built at this period in the British ports.

When Louis XIV became king of France, there was no French navy, properly speaking. Voltaire asserts that in 1664 a few frigates and a line-of-battle ship, in poor condition, constituted the entire force. After the siege of La Rochelle, Richelieu, jealous of the growth of the English navy, had given a sort of impulse to naval ideas by arming immediately fifty ships and twenty galleys; but the effect of this impulse was merely momentary. Colbert was the true creator of the French navy. Under him, in less than five years, France possessed a triumphant maritime force. The most renowned of the French ships at this period was the Royal Sun. This vessel was constructed partly on French, and partly on Dutch principles. She was 1600 tons, 150 feet long, 48 broad, and 16 deep. She carried three lanterns on the poop. As the flag-ship, she carried at the main the white standard, embroidered with the fleurs-de-lys, and the French coat of arms surrounded the orders of St. Michael and the Holy Ghost. The decorations of the Royal Sun surpassed everything before or since. A model of this ship is contained in the naval museum of the Louvre, at Paris. The Royal Sun mounted 120 guns in three batteries complete, with stern and bow guns.

The seventeenth century was perhaps the most brilliant period in the history of galleys. Those of France were commanded by a general. There were two kinds of them, the ordinary and the extraordinary. The ordinary had only twenty-six oars, and twenty-six benches on each side; the extraordinary had often thirty-two. There was no difference of model between them, their dissimilarity only resulting from their relative sizes. All were extremely long, low and narrow. They carried only two masts and lateen sails. The armament consisted of five guns forward and two swivels. These swivels were attached to the sides of the galley to prevent the recoil. There were generally at least five rowers to each oar, the oars being very long and very heavy. Between the rowers’ benches and the sides of the ship there was a space where the soldiers were stationed. Soldiers to fight, sailors to manœuvre, and a gang composed of galley-slaves, or Turkish prisoners, made up the crews of the galleys.

Naval architecture, in the course of the eighteenth century, advanced in model, sparring and rigging of vessels. Two deckers with fifty guns were superseded by frigates carrying the same number of pieces in one battery. The following were the dimensions generally adopted for the different classes of vessels: For first class vessels, one hundred and sixty four to one hundred and eighty-six feet in length, forty-seven to fifty feet in breadth, twenty-three to twenty-five feet in depth; for second class vessels, one hundred and fifty-six to one hundred and seventy in length, forty-three to forty-seven in breadth, twenty and a half to twenty-three in depth; for third class vessels one hundred and fifty to one hundred and sixty in length, forty-two to forty-three in breadth, twenty to twenty and a-half in depth; for fourth class vessels, one hundred and thirty-five to one hundred and fifty in length, thirty-five to forty in breadth, seventeen to twenty in depth; for fifth class vessels, one hundred and two to one hundred and thirty in length, thirty-three to thirty-four in breadth, thirteen to seventeen in depth; for sixth class vessels, sixty to seventy in length, eighteen to twenty in breadth, nine to ten in depth. Among the considerable changes in construction, the first that strikes the eye is the enormous augmentation of canvas. Never did ships carry so much sail.

At the same time that ships of fifty guns became frigates, in their turn the light frigates—​those, for instance, which carried from ten to twenty pieces of artillery—​formed a new class of vessels, under the name of corvettes. The corvettes, at the beginning, had three masts, and their guns under cover. Afterwards, to increase their speed, they carried all their artillery on the upper deck. Later year, the mizzen-mast was abandoned in the smallest. This kind of corvette gave place to the brig-of-war. The bomb-galliot became a bomb-ketch, a sort of three-masted corvette, with platforms between the main and mizzen, and the main and fore masts. Yachts, galliots, gun-boats, armed some with a few light pieces, others with one heavy gun, complete the series of naval forces in use at the eighteenth century, except a few varieties peculiar to different seas and coasts. As for the fire-ship of the first part of the century, no mention is made of it at the close; and if, since that time, certain infernal machines, more or less closely fashioned after the fire-ships, have made their appearance, they have only proved unfortunate attempts, and not answered the expectations of their contrivers. The Turks alone preserved these old warlike contrivances up to the present time; and Navarino offered us, for the last time, the spectacle of a ship—​the Scipio—​engaged with a fire-ship. Like the fire-ship, the ancient galley disappeared with the eighteenth century. In the Mediterranean, the three-masted barque has become the xebeck; and we find, under the same appearance, all the embarkations spoken of in the preceding ages. The lateen vessels are those the least changed in appearance, because, from the simplicity of their rig, they sooner reached a stage bordering on perfection.

The ship Ocean, represented in engraving (17), is an excellent specimen of the science of the eighteenth century. Presented to Louis XIV, by the estates of Burgundy, nothing was spared to make the frigate worthy of its destiny. Built in 1760, it was modernized, and is still in existence.

The Portuguese were among the first to signalize themselves in the career of geographical discovery. At the beginning of the fifteenth century, Prince Henry, son of John I, was at the head of the marine of Portugal. Under his immediate direction, several voyages were undertaken to the coast of Africa; in one of which the voyagers were driven by a storm out of their usual course along shore, and for the first time the terrified mariners found themselves in the boundless ocean. When the storm abated, they were in sight of an island, to which, in their thankfulness to Heaven for the succor it afforded, they gave the name of Puerto Sancto, or the Holy Haven—​the least of the Madeiras. The voyages of the Portuguese now succeeded each other rapidly; and other navigators of this nation, either grown bolder, or again driven off the coast, discovered the Azores. In 1433, the Portuguese passed Cape Nun, hitherto the limit of their courses, and arrived at a cape, which presenting a frightful barrier to the still timid seamen, in the terrible surf that broke on the shoals near it, they named Bojador, signifying its projection into the sea and the consequent circuit it required to double it.

In succeeding expeditions, Cape Verd was reached, and the Senegal arrived at, and Lisbon saw with astonishment a different race from the Moors. Cape Mesurado was the limit of the Portuguese discoveries at the death of Prince Henry in 1463, which damping the ardor of discovery, it was not until 1471 that the Equator was crossed, and the islands in the gulf of Guinea were discovered.

The terrors of the burning zone, and the belief of the union of Africa and Asia being dissipated by these successive voyages, the passage to India round Africa was no longer deemed impossible, and a fleet was fitted out under Bartholomew Diaz for the express purpose of attempting it. The captain coasted Africa to within sight of its southern point, to which he gave the name of Cape of all Torments, from the violent storms he experienced off it, and which, as well as the want of provisions, obliged him to return to Lisbon, after an absence of sixteen months. The name of the Cape of all Torments was changed by the king to that of Good Hope, from the prospect it afforded of accomplishing the passage to India.

Ten years however elapsed after the discovery of the Cape before this passage was attempted; and Vasco de Gama had the honor of doubling the promontory the 20th of November, 1497. Sailing along the coast of Africa, he passed through the Mozambique Channel to Mombaz and thence to Melinda, where he procured pilots, and crossing the Arabian sea, arrived at Callicut the 22d of May, 1498. It is thought that the ridiculous ceremony of ducking, etc., on crossing the line, was first practiced in this voyage.

Christopher Columbo or Colon, better known by his Latinized name of Columbus, was born at Genoa about the year 1436. His father was a woolcomber, in not very affluent circumstances; although connected, according to some accounts, with persons of superior rank. Columbus was the eldest of a family of four. His two brothers, Bartholomew and Diego, will afterwards be mentioned in connection with his discoveries; his sister married an obscure person of the name of Bavarello.

Of the early life of Columbus very little is known. Considering the habits of the age, and the condition of his parents, he appears to have received a good education. While yet a mere child, he learned reading, writing, and arithmetic; he was also such a proficient in drawing and painting, that according to one of his biographers, he could have earned a livelihood by them. At an early age he went to the university of Padua, in Lombardy, then a celebrated school of learning. Here he acquired the Latin language, and devoted himself with zeal to the study of mathematics in all its branches, especially those connected with geography and navigation, towards which he seems to have been drawn from the first by an irresistible propensity. His stay at Padua connot have been long; for in his fourteenth year he returned to his father’s house in Genoa, where he is said to have pursued for some time the occupation of woolcombing. This, however, was far from his taste; and he made choice of the seafaring profession. Genoa being at that time one of the greatest commercial cities in the world, the enthusiasm for maritime enterprise was universal amongst its inhabitants. A historian of the period speaks of the proneness of the Genoese youth to wander through the world in quest of riches, which they intended to return and spend in their native city: few, however, he says, were able to carry their intention into effect—​not one in ten of those who left Genoa ever revisiting it. Of these adventurous youths, whose ambition to be sailors was nursed by the sight of the merchant-vessels landing their rich freights on the quays of Genoa, Columbus was one; and, as we have already seen, his education was suitable for the mode of life he had chosen.

At fourteen years of age Columbus left Genoa in the humble capacity of a sailor boy on board a Mediterranean trader; and for many years, at first as a common sailor, and latterly as master of a vessel, he appears to have sailed along the Mediterranean from the Levant to Gibraltar, possibly also undertaking an occasional voyage to some of the northern countries of Europe, with which the Genoese merchants may have had dealings. In this undistinguished course of life he passed his youth; and he does not come prominently into notice till he settled in Lisbon in 1470, when he was thirty-four years of age. At this period he is described as being above the middle size, and of strong muscular frame. His visage was long; his nose aquiline; his eyes of a bluish gray; his complexion fair, but somewhat inflamed. His hair in youth was reddish, but before he was thirty years of age it had turned quite white. His habits were simple; his manners grave and affable; his temper, which was naturally irritable, he had subdued by the force of his will; and in his attention to the observances of religion, he was devout and enthusiastic. His acquirements were far beyond what might have been expected in one whose life had been spent at sea. Besides being a skillful navigator, he was well-informed in astronomy, geography, and all the general science of the age; and while on shore, his leisure appears to have been spent in studying such scientific works as were within his reach. A marriage which he contracted about this period seems to have had some effect in determining his subsequent career. The lady to whom he became attached was Felipa de Palestrello, the daughter of Bartolemeo de Palestrello, an Italian who had distinguished himself as a navigator in the Portuguese service. Marrying this young lady, Columbus obtained from her mother all the charts, journals, and memorandums of her late husband, the possession of which was a treasure to him. After his marriage he lived for many years as a humble citizen of Lisbon, earning a livelihood for himself and family by constructing maps and charts, or by making an occasional voyage in a Portuguese vessel to the Guinea coast, then the ultimate limit of African navigation.

Columbus seems to have acted from deliberate choice in making Lisbon his place of residence. In no city in the world would the demand be so great at that time for maps and charts, or for persons skilled in any of the arts connected with navigation. Portugal had taken the lead of all the nations of Europe in maritime enterprise; and for upwards of twenty years all the great discoveries which had been made by navigators of new coasts or islands had been effected under the auspices of the Portuguese government.

The best result of Columbus’ labors in drawing maps was, that he thereby became acquainted with the small extent of that part of the earth’s surface known to geographers and navigators, as compared with the conjectural extent of the whole. This fact appears to have made a deep impression on his mind, and to have been the germ of his future speculations. It was not long, however, before the idea began to assume a more definite shape. Like all the navigators of the time, he was full of the notion of discovering a new route to India, Cathay, or Cipango—​the land of gold, and diamonds, and spices—​which was supposed to lie in the east of Asia, and respecting which the most gorgeous fancies were entertained. There was this difference, however, between the speculations of Columbus and other navigators as to this imaginary route to India, that while they universally followed Prince Henry in supposing that it was to be sought by sailing round Africa, he was employed in considering the possibility of effecting the same object by sailing due west across the Atlantic. This most original idea was fully formed in Columbus’ mind before the year 1474.

The globular form of the earth had been for a considerable time known to all scientific men, and various calculations had been made as to its probable size. On this latter point all were at fault, the general supposition being, that the globe was much smaller than it is. Columbus, in pondering on its imaginary magnitude, arrived at the conviction that the Atlantic was a comparatively narrow sea, and that if any one were to push boldly across it, he would inevitably reach the shores of India. These ideas were confirmed by the various rumors which prevailed of lands existing in the Atlantic to the west of Africa. Plato’s fabled island of Atalantis was supposed to be a real country lying in that quarter. There were many traditionary recollections of mariners having been cast upon unknown shores when driven far out to sea by the violence of a storm. There were legends also of adventurers who had embarked in ships in the northern countries of Europe, and gone to seek homes across the Atlantic; and of fugitive bishops and priests, who, to escape persecution in their own country, had committed themselves to the waves, and been conducted by the hand of Providence to fertile and happy islands to the west of the Azores. Moreover, certain circumstances had come within Columbus’ own knowledge, which seemed to argue the existence of land in that direction. Martin Vicenti, a pilot in the Portuguese service, had picked up a piece of carved wood floating in the ocean four hundred and fifty leagues west of St. Vincent, which, as the wind was westerly, he concluded must have come from some land opposite to Africa. Columbus’ brother-in-law, Pedro Correa, had seen a similar piece of wood, which had drifted across the ocean from the same quarter; and had also heard of large canes seen floating on the waves west of Madeira, apparently resembling the reeds known to be produced in the East Indies. It was likewise reported that, when the wind had blown long from the west, trunks of huge pine-trees were often cast ashore upon the Azores; and that once two dead bodies, evidently the corpses neither of Europeans nor Africans, were driven upon the beach of the island of Flores.

All these and many other arguments convinced Columbus that the East Indies could be reached by sailing westward from Gibraltar, or the western coast of Africa. Every circumstance corroborative of this view which came to his knowledge he diligently noted down; and at last the conviction became so strong, that he conceived himself to be expressly destined by God for the great work of discovering a new world. No doubt or hesitation remained in his mind; and his only wish was to find the means of making the contemplated voyage. Once launched upon the Atlantic, he was absolutely certain that, after having sailed seven or eight hundred leagues to the west of the Canaries, he would come upon Marco Polo’s island of Cipango, or the dominions of the great khan of Tartary.

Impressed with these delusive convictions, Columbus was eager to make application to some of the governments of Europe for means to make a voyage of discovery on the Atlantic. He first applied to John II, king of Portugal, who inherited the enterprising spirit of his grand-uncle, prince Henry, and in whose reign the means of finding the latitude at sea had been discovered. Columbus, without much difficulty, obtained an interview with the Portuguese monarch, to whom he explained his scheme of reaching the East Indies, not by the route round Africa, which all other navigators were pursuing, but by a shorter one across the Atlantic. Various accounts are given of the manner in which the proposal was received. John himself was a wise and magnanimous prince, and he appears to have been much impressed by the earnestness of the noble-looking foreigner who addressed him. Naturally cautious, however, of patronising an enterprise which might turn out to be a mere chimera, he referred the matter to some of his counselors, who dissuaded him from engaging in it. Still, such was the effect of Columbus’ representations, that John did not at once dismiss the project. On the contrary, by a piece of meanness not agreeing with his general character, he followed the advice of some of his counselors, and having, on false pretenses, procured from Columbus a detailed plan of his contemplated voyage, with maps and charts to correspond, he secretly despatched a vessel to ascertain the practicability of the intended route. The vessel actually sailed a considerable way beyond the Cape Verd islands; but a storm arising, the crew became afraid to venture farther, and put back, reporting that Columbus’ notion was mad and irrational.

Indignant at this unjust treatment, Columbus, whose wife had for some time been dead, secretly left Lisbon, taking with him his young son Diego. The reason for his leaving the city secretly is said by some to have been the fear of being prevented by the government; by others, the fear of being apprehended for debts which he was unable to pay. Proceeding to his native city of Genoa, he renewed an offer which he had previously made by letter, of conducting the enterprise under the patronage of the Genoese government—​an offer which was contemptuously refused, Genoa being already in the decline of her fortunes, and too broken-spirited to engage in any more bold enterprises. It is said that Columbus’ next offer was made to the Venetian government; which, however, is improbable. The usual account, also, of his sending his brother Bartholomew at this time to England to propose the scheme to Henry VII, is incorrect: it was not till the year 1488, when the negotiations with Spain had begun, that Bartholomew proceeded to England on this errand.

Columbus’ Negotiations in Spain. Spain was the country to which Columbus looked with the greatest hope after the rejection of his scheme by Portugal. No country at that time occupied the attention of Europe so much as Spain. By the marriage of Ferdinand II of Arragon, with Isabella of Castile, the whole of the peninsula, except Portugal, had been consolidated into one powerful kingdom. Ruling separately over their distinct territories—​the wise, cold, and wary Ferdinand over his subjects of Arragon, and the generous and high-souled Isabella over hers of Castile—​the two made it their common endeavor to promote the glory of Spain, and raise its reputation as one of the first powers of Christendom. They were at this time engaged in a war with Granada, the last of the Moorish kingdoms in Spain; and all their energies were occupied in the accomplishment of what was then regarded a noble and chivalrous enterprise—​the entire expulsion of the Moors from the peninsula. Spain, accordingly, was then the land of daring deeds, and hither our poor Italian resolved to bend his steps, with the scheme of a new world.

In Andalusia, one of the most southern of the Spanish provinces, and next to Granada, is an insignificant little seaport, of the name of Palos de Moguer. At a little distance from this village stood, and we believe still stands, a Franciscan convent, dedicated to Santa Marie de Rabido. One day, late in the year of 1485, a stranger on foot, accompanied by a little boy, stopped at the convent gate, and begged a little bread and water for his child. The stranger was of a noble aspect, venerable from his white hairs, and interesting from his foreign accent. While the porter of the convent was supplying him with what he had asked, the prior, Juan Perez de Marchena, chanced to pass, and, struck with the stranger’s appearance, he entered into conversation with him. The stranger informed him that his name was Columbus, and that, with his son, he was on his way to the neighboring town of Huelua, where his brother-in-law resided. Inviting him into the convent, the prior soon learned the rest of his story; and instantly conceiving a wonderful affection for the extraordinary man whom Providence had thus cast in his way, he insisted on his taking up his residence with him until a fit time should arrive for proceeding to the court of the Spanish sovereigns. Himself a man of information and ability, Juan Perez entered heartily into Columbus’ views, and sent for such scientific persons in the neighborhood as he thought would be able to form a judgment on the matter. Here, in the midst of a little club of listeners, gathered in the evenings in the comfortable apartment of the prior, did Columbus produce his charts and expound his project in the winter of 1485–6; and long afterwards, in the height of his fame, did the great navigator remember Juan Perez, his first kind friend in Spain.

Early in the year 1486 Columbus set out for Cordova, where the Spanish court then resided, making preparations for a spring campaign against the Moors of Granada. He left his son Diego under the charge of the worthy prior, who, to add to his other kindnesses, furnished him with a letter of introduction to Fernando de Talavera, prior of Prado, and confessor of Queen Isabella—​a man, therefore, of some importance, and likely to be of use to him. The letter proved of small avail; either Juan Perez had overrated his influence with so great a personage as Talavera, or Talavera was too busy to pay any attention to the poor Italian enthusiast who was introduced to him. Neither Columbus nor his project appears to have been mentioned to the Spanish sovereigns; and the campaign against the Moors having commenced, there was no hope of his obtaining an interview with them for some time. While the court was thus shifting about, Columbus remained in Cordova, supporting himself, as before, by his skill in designing maps. Here also his worth, his noble appearance, and the modest enthusiasm of his manners, gained him many kind friends, through whom he made the acquaintance of Mendoza, archbishop of Toledo, and grand cardinal of Spain. Mendoza, after being satisfied that there was something more in Columbus’ project than a mere vague fancy, procured him an audience with Ferdinand and Isabella. The able Ferdinand instantly perceived the propriety of at least inquiring into the scheme which was proposed to him; he therefore referred the matter to Fernando de Talavera, the above-mentioned prior, to whom Columbus had already been introduced: instructing him to hold a council of the most learned geographers and scientific men to examine and report on the plan submitted by Columbus.

Few meetings ever held are more interesting to us now than the great meeting of scientific men held in the convent of St. Stephen, at Salamanca, to investigate into the feasibility of Columbus’ project of reaching the East Indias by sailing due west. There were assembled all the sages of Spain, professors of astronomy, geography, and mathematics, most of them churchmen, together with a number of learned friars and ecclesiastical dignitaries in their robes; and in the midst of them all stood a simple mariner of Genoa, ready to explain his scheme and answer questions. A great majority seem to have been prepossessed against Columbus from the beginning, arguing that of necessity he must be wrong, seeing that it was not in the nature of things that one man could know better about such matters than all the rest of the world. Others, however, favored him so far as to be ready at least to enter into argument with him. The arguments produced against him were of the strangest kind—​a mixture of crude science with religious dogmas—​quotations from Scripture interpreted in the oddest manner; together with extracts from the Greek and Latin fathers. To all the objections urged Columbus answered with firmness and modesty, failing, however, as may be supposed, to convince men against long-cherished prejudice, backed by an erroneous interpretation of Scripture.

The deliberations of the assembly were interrupted by the departure of the court from Cordova in the spring of 1487. No answer had as yet been given to Columbus with respect to his project; on the whole, however, there seemed little hope of a favorable one. The next five years were occupied by the Spanish sovereigns in the war against Granada, so that they had no leisure to enter personally into a consideration of the merits of the proposal made to them by the Genoese navigator. During all that time Columbus waited patiently, generally residing at Cordova, where, it is said, the children in the streets used to point to their foreheads as he passed, bidding each other look at the mad Italian; sometimes, however, following the court in its journeys from place to place, and even taking part in the sieges and battles in which the Spanish troops were engaged. His hopes seem to have alternately risen and sunk during these five years. In the year 1488 he appears to have despaired of a favorable issue to his application; for in that year he despatched his brother Bartholomew Columbus to England to make an offer of his project to Henry VII. Unfortunately, Bartholomew was captured by pirates on the voyage, and was not able to reach England for some years, otherwise Spain might have been for ever deprived of the advantages offered her; for when the scheme was ultimately proposed to Henry VII, he embraced it more warmly than any monarch to whom it had been broached before. In the same year, 1488, Columbus received a letter from the king of Portugal, inviting him to return to that country, but he refused the invitation.

In the winter of 1491, when the Spanish monarchs were about to commence their last Moorish campaign, Columbus received an answer to his frequent applications. He was informed that the expenses of the war prevented the sovereigns from engaging at present in any new enterprise, but that, when the war was over, his scheme would be again considered. This was most disheartening to one who had waited so long. Already advanced in years, he began to fear that death would overtake him before he had obtained the means of accomplishing his design. He resolved to quit Spain. Before doing so, however, he offered his scheme to two of the Spanish nobles, whose wealth and importance made them almost independent princes—​the Duke of Medina Sidonia and the Duke of Medina Celi. Both, after some delay, refused to engage in the project, as too ambitious for any but a great sovereign. Columbus, therefore, hesitated no longer, but prepared to go to France, where he anticipated a more favorable reception. Before setting out, he proceeded to the convent at Palos, to visit his friend Juan Perez, and to bring away his son Diego, whom with his other son, Fernando, he intended to leave at Cordova. When his old friend the prior saw Columbus once more at the gate of his monastery, after several years of vain solicitation at court, he was deeply affected. He entreated him by all means to remain in the country. He had been father confessor to the queen, and thought he might still exercise an influence over her mind. He accordingly proceeded to Santa Fé, where the sovereigns were in person superintending the siege of the capital of Grenada. Perez obtained a ready access to the queen. He laid before her the propositions of Columbus with freedom and eloquence. Isabella was moved with the grandeur of the project. The principles on which it was founded, the advantages that would result from its success, and the glory it would shed on Spain, were for the first time represented to her in their true colors. She promised her patronage to the undertaking. Columbus was summoned to court, and 20,000 maravedies, equivalent to upwards of $200 of our money, were sent to him to pay his traveling expenses; and he arrived in time to witness the memorable surrender of Granada to the Spanish arms. It was now only necessary to agree upon the terms of the proposed enterprise. A meaner spirit, after years of unsuccessful toil, poverty, and disappointment, would have been glad to secure the assistance of the sovereigns on such arrangements as their own liberality might dictate. But Columbus stipulated his own rewards and honors, and would consent to no other. He demanded them as if he were already successful, and aware of the extent and importance of his discoveries. In consequence of his resoluteness in adhering to these demands, the negotiation was once more broken off; and Columbus, mounting his mule, left Santa Fé; resolved never to return. He was within two leagues of Grenada, when a courier overtook him and brought him back. The court now agreed that he should be admiral on the ocean, and enjoy all the privileges and honors allowed to the high admiral of Castile; that he should be governor over all the countries he might discover; and that he should reserve to himself one-tenth of all pearls, precious stones, gold, silver, and articles of merchandise, in whatever manner obtained, within his admirality. They also allowed that he should appoint judges in all parts of Spain trading to those countries; and that on this voyage, and at all other times, he should contribute an eighth part of the expense, and receive an eighth part of the profits. These articles of agreement were signed by Ferdinand and Isabella at the city of Santa Fé on the 17th of April 1492.

Preparations for the voyage were now commenced in good earnest. The port of Palos de Moguer, already mentioned, was fixed as the place where the armament should be fitted out. Royal orders were issued to the magistrates of Palos to have three caravels in readiness, and somewhat arbitrary measures were had recourse to for the purpose of obtaining crews. As soon as the nature of the enterprise became known, the little town of Palos was in an uproar; the owners of vessels refused to lend them; and the boldest seamen absconded, lest they should be pressed into such service. Columbus had repaired to the spot; but all his exertions were unavailing; neither vessels nor crew could be got. At length a rich and adventurous navigator, named Alonzo Pinzon, came forward, and interested himself strenuously in the expedition. His assistance was effectual. He owned vessels, and had many seamen in his employ, and consequently possessed great influence. He and his brother Vicente Pinzon determined to take commands, and sail with Columbus. Their example had a great effect; they persuaded their relations and friends to embark with them; and the vessels were ready for sea within a month after they had thus engaged in their equipment.

After all, the armament was miserably ill-proportioned to the grandeur of the enterprise. Only one of the three small vessels was full-decked. The other two, says Washington Irving, ‘were light barques, called caravels, not superior to river and coasting craft of more modern days. They are delineated as open, and without deck in the center; but built up high at the prow and stern, with forecastles and cabins for the accommodation of the crew. The largest vessel was called the Santa Maria: on board of this Columbus hoisted his flag. The second, called the Pinta, was commanded by Martin Alonzo Pinzon, accompanied by his brother Francisco Martin, as pilot. The third, called the Nina, had latine sails, and was commanded by the third of the brothers, Vicenta Yanez Pinzon.’ The crews, including Columbus, the three Pinzons, three other pilots, several royal officials, a physician and a surgeon, some private adventurers with their servants, and ninety sailors, amounted in all to one hundred and twenty persons.

Thus, in the fifty-sixth year of his age, after innumerable efforts and disappointments, and at least eighteen years after he had matured his project in his own mind, did Columbus find his wishes gratified, by being placed at the head of an armament bound on a voyage through the hitherto unexplored Atlantic. He still labored under the delusion that the lands he would reach by sailing in that direction would be the East Indies—​the golden regions lying in the eastern extremity of Asia, and described in such glowing colors by Marco Polo. So firm was he in this belief, that he was furnished by Ferdinand and Isabella with letters to be delivered to the great khan of Tartary. It ought to be mentioned also, as characteristic of the times, and of the almost wildly-enthusiastic genius of Columbus, that he had all along cherished the design of devoting the wealth which should be acquired from his discoveries to the object of rescuing the holy sepulchre of Jerusalem from the hands of the infidels.

The Voyage.—​On the 2d of August, 1492, Columbus and all his companions marched in solemn procession to the monastery of Rabida to confess their sins, obtain absolution, and implore the blessing of God on their expedition. The account of this deeply-interesting voyage may be best given in the elegant language of Robertson:

‘On Friday, the third day of August, in the year one thousand four hundred and ninety-two, Columbus set sail, a little before sunrise, in presence of a vast crowd of spectators, who sent up their supplications to Heaven for the prosperous issue of the voyage, which they wished rather than expected. Columbus steered directly for the Canary Islands, and arrived there (August 13) without any occurrence that would have deserved notice on any other occasion. But in a voyage of such expectation and importance, every circumstance was the object of attention. The rudder of the Pinta broke loose the day after she left the harbor; and that accident alarmed the crew, no less superstitious than unskillful, as a certain omen of the unfortunate destiny of the expedition. Even in the short run to the Canaries, the ships were found to be so crazy and ill-appointed, as to be very improper for a navigation which was expected to be both long and dangerous. Columbus refitted them, however, to the best of his power; and having supplied himself with fresh provisions, he took his departure from Gomera, one of the most westerly of the Canary Islands, on the sixth day of September.

‘Here the voyage of discovery may properly be said to begin; for Columbus, holding his course due west, left immediately the usual track of navigation, and stretched into unfrequented and unknown seas. The first day, as it was very calm, he made but little way; but on the second, he lost sight of the Canaries; and many of the sailors, dejected already and dismayed, when they contemplated the boldness of the undertaking, began to beat their breasts and to shed tears, as if they were never more to behold land. Columbus comforted them with assurances of success, and the prospect of vast wealth in those opulent regions whither he was conducting them. This early discovery of the spirit of his followers taught Columbus that he must prepare to struggle not only with the unavoidable difficulties which might be expected from the nature of his undertaking, but with such as were likely to arise from the ignorance and timidity of the people under his command; and he perceived that the art of governing the minds of men would be no less requisite for accomplishing the discoveries which he had in view, than naval skill and undaunted courage. Happily for himself, and for the country by which he was employed, he joined to the ardent temper and inventive genius of a projector, virtues of another species, which are rarely united with them. He possessed a thorough knowledge of mankind, an insinuating address, a patient perseverance in executing any plan, the perfect government of his own passions, and the talent of acquiring an ascendency over those of other men. All these qualities, which formed him for command, were accompanied with that superior knowledge of his profession which begets confidence in times of difficulty and danger. To unskillful Spanish sailors, accustomed only to coasting voyages in the Mediterranean, the maritime science of Columbus—​the fruit of thirty years’ experience, improved by an acquaintance with all the inventions of the Portuguese—​appeared immense. As soon as they put to sea, he regulated everything by his sole authority; he superintended the execution of every order; and allowing himself only a few hours for sleep, he was at all other times upon deck. As his course lay through seas which had not formerly been visited, the sounding line, or instruments for observation, were continually in his hands. After the example of the Portuguese discoverers, he attended to the motion of tides and currents, watched the flight of birds, the appearance of fishes, or seaweeds, and of everything that floated on the waves; and entered every occurrence with a minute exactness in the journal which he kept. As the length of the voyage could not fail of alarming sailors habituated only to short excursions, Columbus endeavored to conceal from them the real progress which they made. With this view, though they ran eighteen leagues on the second day after they left Gomera, he gave out that they had advanced only fifteen; and he uniformly employed the same artifice of reckoning short during the whole voyage. By the fourteenth of September, the fleet was above two hundred leagues to the west of the Canary Islands, at a greater distance from land than any Spaniard had been before that time. There they were struck with an appearance no less astonishing than new. They observed that the magnetic needle in their compasses did not point exactly to the polar star, but varied towards the west; and as they proceeded, this variation increased. This appearance, which is now familiar—​though it still remains one of the mysteries of nature, into the cause of which the sagacity of man hath not been able to penetrate—​filled the companions of Columbus with terror. They were now in a boundless and unknown ocean, far from the usual course of navigation; nature itself seemed to be altered, and the only guide which they had left was about to fail them. Columbus, with no less quickness than ingenuity, invented a reason for this appearance, which, though it did not satisfy himself, seemed so plausible to them, that it dispelled their fears or silenced their murmurs.

‘He still continued to steer due west, nearly in the same latitude with the Canary Islands. In this course he came within the sphere of the trade wind, which blows invariably from east to west between the tropics and a few degrees beyond them. He advanced before this steady gale with such uniform rapidity, that it was seldom necessary to shift a sail. When about four hundred leagues west of the Canaries, he found the sea so covered with weeds that it resembled a meadow of vast extent, and in some places they were so thick as to retard the motion of the vessels. This strange appearance occasioned new alarm and disquiet. The sailors imagined that they were now arrived at the utmost boundary of the navigable ocean; that these floating weeds would obstruct their farther progress, and concealed dangerous rocks, or some other large tract of land, which had sunk, they knew not how, in that place. Columbus endeavored to persuade them that what had alarmed ought rather to have encouraged them, and was to be considered as a sign of approaching land. At the same time a brisk gale arose and carried them forward. Several birds were seen hovering about the ship, and directing their flight towards the west. The desponding crew resumed some degree of spirit, and began to entertain fresh hopes.

‘Upon the first of October they were, according to the admiral’s reckoning, seven hundred and seventy leagues to the west of the Canaries; but, lest his men should be intimidated by the prodigious length of the navigation, he gave out that they had proceeded only five hundred and eighty-four leagues; and, fortunately for Columbus, neither his own pilot, nor those of the other ships, had skill sufficient to corect this error, and discover the deceit. They had now been above three weeks at sea; they had proceeded far beyond what former navigators had attempted or deemed possible; all their prognostics of discovery, drawn from the flight of birds and other circumstances, had proved fallacious; the appearances of land, with which their own credulity or the artifice of their commander had from time to time flattered and amused them, had been altogether illusive; and their prospect of success seemed now to be as distant as ever. These reflections occurred often to men who had no other object or occupation than to reason and discourse concerning the intention and circumstances of their expedition. They made impression at first upon the ignorant and timid; and, extending by degrees to such as were better informed or more resolute, the contagion spread at length from ship to ship. From secret whispers or murmurings, they proceeded to open cabals and public complaints. They taxed their sovereign with inconsiderate credulity in paying such regard to the vain promises and rash conjectures of an indigent foreigner, as to hazard the lives of so many of her own subjects in prosecuting a chimerical scheme. They affirmed that they had fully performed their duty by venturing so far in an unknown and hopeless course, and could incur no blame by refusing to follow any longer a desperate adventurer to certain destruction. They contended that it was necessary to think of returning to Spain while their crazy vessels were still in a condition to keep the sea; but expressed their fears that the attempt would prove vain, as the wind, which had hitherto been so favorable to their course, must render it impossible to sail in the opposite direction. All agreed that Columbus should be compelled by force to adopt a measure on which their common safety depended. Some of the more audacious proposed, as the most expeditious and certain method of getting rid at once of his remonstrances, to throw him into the sea, being persuaded that, upon their return to Spain, the death of an unsuccessful projector would excite little concern, and be inquired into with no curiosity.

‘Columbus was fully sensible of his perilous situation. He had observed with great uneasiness the fatal operation of ignorance and of fear in producing disaffection among his crew, and saw that it was now ready to burst out into open mutiny. He retained, however, perfect presence of mind. He affected to seem ignorant of their machinations. Notwithstanding the agitation and solicitude of his own mind, he appeared with a cheerful countenance, like a man satisfied with the progress he had made, and confident of success. Sometimes he employed all the arts of insinuation to soothe his men. Sometimes he endeavored to work upon their ambition or avarice, by magnificent descriptions of the fame and wealth which they were about to acquire. On other occasions he assumed a tone of authority, and threatened them with vengeance from their sovereign if, by their dastardly behavior, they should defeat this noble effort to promote the glory of God and to exalt the Spanish name above that of every other nation. Even with seditious sailors the words of a man whom they had been accustomed to reverence were weighty and persuasive, and not only restrained them from those violent excesses which they meditated, but prevailed with them to accompany their admiral for some time longer.

‘As they proceeded, the indications of approaching land seemed to be more certain, and excited hope in proportion. The birds began to appear in flocks, making towards the south-west. Columbus, in imitation of the Portuguese navigators, who had been guided in several of their discoveries by the motion of birds, altered his course from due west towards that quarter whither they pointed their flight. But, after holding on for several days in this new direction, without any better success than formerly, having seen no object during thirty days but the sea and the sky, the hopes of his companions subsided faster than they had risen; their fears revived with additional force; impatience, rage, and despair appeared in every countenance. All sense of subordination was lost. The officers, who had hitherto concurred with Columbus in opinion, and supported his authority, now took part with the private men; they assembled tumultuously on the deck, expostulated with their commander, mingled threats with their expostulations, and required him instantly to tack about and to return to Europe. Columbus perceived that it would be of no avail to have recourse to any of his former arts, which, having been tried so often, had lost their effect; and that it was impossible to rekindle any zeal for the success of the expedition among men in whose breasts fear had extinguished every generous sentiment. He saw that it was no less vain to think of employing either gentle of severe measures to quell a mutiny so general and so violent. It was necessary, on all these accounts, to soothe passions which he could no longer command, and to give way to a torrent too impetuous to be checked. He promised solemnly to his men that he would comply with their request, provided they would accompany him, and obey his command for three days longer; and if, during that time, land were not discovered, he would then abandon the enterprise, and direct his course towards Spain.

‘Enraged as the sailors were, and impatient to turn their faces again towards their native country, this proposition did not appear to them unreasonable. Nor did Columbus hazard much in confining himself to a term so short. The presages of discovering land were now so numerous and promising, that he deemed them infallible. For some days the sounding-line reached the bottom, and the soil which it brought up indicated land to be at no great distance. The flocks of birds increased, and were composed not only of sea-fowl, but of such land birds as could not be supposed to fly far from the shore. The crew of the Pinta observed a cane floating, which seemed to have been newly cut, and likewise a piece of timber artificially carved. The sailors aboard the Nina took up the branch of a tree covered with red berries, perfectly fresh. The clouds around the setting sun assumed a new appearance; the air was milder and warmer; and during night the wind became unequal and variable. From all these symptoms, Columbus was so confident of being near land, that on the evening of the eleventh of October, after public prayers for success, he ordered the sails to be furled, and the ships to lie to, keeping strict watch lest they should be driven ashore in the night. During this interval of suspense and expectation no man shut his eyes; all kept upon deck, gazing intently towards that quarter where they expected to discover the land, which had been so long the object of their wishes.

‘About two hours before midnight, Columbus, standing on the forecastle, observed a light at a distance, and privately pointed it out to Pedro Guttierez, a page of the queen’s wardrobe. Guttierez perceived it, and calling to Salcedo, comptroller of the fleet, all three saw it in motion, as if it were carried from place to place. A little after midnight the joyful sound of ‘Land! land!’ was heard from the Pinta, which kept always ahead of the other ships. But having been so often deceived by fallacious appearances, every man had now become slow of belief, and waited in all the anguish of uncertainty and impatience for the return of day. As soon as morning dawned [October 12th], all doubts and fears were dispelled. From every ship an island was seen about two leagues to the north, whose flat and verdant fields, well stored with wood, and watered with many rivulets, presented the aspect of a delightful country. The crew of the Pinta instantly began the Te Deum, as a hymn of thanksgiving to God, and were joined by those of the other ships with tears of joy and transports of congratulation. This office of gratitude to Heaven was followed by an act of justice to their commander. They threw themselves at the feet of Columbus, with feelings of self-condemnation mingled with reverence. They implored him to pardon their ignorance, incredulity, and insolence, which had created him so much unnecessary disquiet, and had so often obstructed the prosecution of his well-concerted plan; and passing, in the warmth of their admiration, from one extreme to another, they now pronounced the man whom they had so lately reviled and threatened, to be a person inspired by Heaven with sagacity and fortitude more than human, in order to accomplish a design so far beyond the ideas and conceptions of all former ages.

‘As soon as the sun arose, all their boats were manned and armed. They rowed towards the island with their colors displayed, with warlike music, and other martial pomp. As they approached the coast, they saw it covered with a multitude of people, whom the novelty of the spectacle had drawn together, whose attitudes and gestures expressed wonder and astonishment at the strange objects which presented themselves to their view. Columbus was the first European who set foot in the new world which he had discovered. He landed in a rich dress, and with a naked sword in his hand. His men followed, and kneeling down, they all kissed the ground which they had so long desired to see. They next erected a crucifix, and, prostrating themselves before it, returned thanks to God for conducting their voyage to such a happy issue. They then took solemn possession of the country for the crown of Castile and Leon, with all the formalities which the Portuguese were accustomed to observe in acts of this kind in their new discoveries.

‘The Spaniards, while thus employed, were surrounded by many of the natives, who gazed in silent admiration upon actions which they could not comprehend, and of which they did not foresee the consequences. The dress of the Spaniards, the whiteness of their skins, their beards, their arms, appeared strange and surprising. The vast machines in which they had traversed the ocean, that seemed to move upon the waters with wings, and uttered a dreadful sound resembling thunder, accompanied with lightning and smoke, struck them with such terror, that they began to respect their new guests as a superior order of beings, and concluded that they were children from the sun, who had descended to visit the earth.

‘The Europeans were hardly less amazed at the scene now before them. Every herb, and shrub, and tree, was different from those which flourished in Europe. The soil seemed to be rich, but bore few marks of cultivation. The climate, even to the Spaniards, felt warm, though extremely delightful. The inhabitants appeared in the simple innocence of nature—​entirely naked. Their black hair, long and uncurled, floated upon their shoulders, or was bound in tresses around their heads. They had no beards, and every part of their bodies was perfectly smooth. Their complexion was of a dusky copper color; their features singular, rather than disagreeable; their aspect gentle and timid. Though not tall, they were well-shaped and active. Their faces, and several parts of their bodies, were fantastically painted with glaring colors. They were shy at first through fear, but soon became familiar with the Spaniards; and with transports of joy received from them hawks’ bells, glass beads, or other baubles, in return for which they gave such provisions as they had, and some cotton yarn, the only commodity of value that they could produce. Towards evening Columbus returned to his ship, accompanied by many of the islanders in their boats, which they called canoes; and though rudely formed out of the trunk of a tree, they rowed them with surprising dexterity. Thus, in the first interview between the inhabitants of the old and new worlds, everything was conducted amicably, and to their mutual satisfaction. The former, enlightened and ambitious, formed already vast ideas with respect to the advantages which they might derive from the regions that began to open to their view. The latter, simple and undiscerning, had no foresight to the calamities and desolation which were approaching their country.

‘Columbus, who now assumed the title and authority of admiral and viceroy, called the island which he had discovered San Salvador. It is better known by the name of Guanahani, which the natives gave to it, and is one of that large cluster of islands called the Lucaya or Bahama Isles. It is situated above three thousand miles to the west of Gomera, from which the squadron took its departure, and only four degrees to the south of it; so little had Columbus deviated from the westerly course which he had chosen as the most proper.’

Cruise in the West India Archipelago—​Various Discoveries.—​Columbus imagined that the island he had thus discovered, and others which could be seen from it, belonged to the Archipelago, which, according to Marco Polo, lay east of the Asiatic continent. He resolved, therefore, to remain no longer at San Salvador, but to sail in the direction in which he conceived the mainland to lie. When he asked the natives, by signs, where they obtained the gold, of which most of them wore thin plates attached to their nostrils by way of ornament, they invariably pointed to the south. To the south, therefore, he determined to prosecute his voyage, not doubting but that the region which the natives pointed to must be Cathay or Cipango. Accordingly, after spending one day at San Salvador, he directed his course through the midst of that multitudinous cluster of islands now called the Bahamas, convinced as he gazed at their green and luxuriant foliage, that these must be the ‘seven thousand four hundred and fifty-eight islands abounding with spices and odoriferous trees,’ which Marco Polo described as filling the Chinese sea. He landed at three of the largest, and gave them names. Here the appearance of the ships and the Spaniards produced the same astonishment among the natives as at San Salvador. Receiving to his inquiries after gold the same invariable answer, that it lay to the south, he pushed on through group after group of islands, and at last, on the 28th of October, came in sight of Cuba. The appearance of this noble island as he approached it, its high mountains, its spreading forests, its broad rivers, made him uncertain whether it might not be part of the great continent he was in search of. ‘He entered the mouth of a large river with his squadron, and all the inhabitants fled to the mountains as he approached the shore. But as he resolved to careen his ships in that place, he sent some Spaniards, together with one of the people of San Salvador, to view the interior part of the country. They having advanced above sixty miles from the shore, reported, upon their return, that the soil was richer and more cultivated than any they had hitherto discovered; that, besides many scattered cottages, they had found one village containing above a thousand inhabitants; that the people, though naked, seemed to be more intelligent than those of San Salvador, but had treated them with the same respectful attention, kissing their feet, and honoring them as sacred beings allied to heaven; that they had given them to eat a certain root, the taste of which resembled roasted chestnuts, and likewise a singular species of corn called maize, which, when roasted whole or ground into meal, was abundantly palatable; that there seemed to be no four-footed animals in the country but a species of dog, which could not bark, and a creature resembling a rabbit, but of a much smaller size; that they had observed some ornaments of gold among the people, but of no great value.’ Here also, for the first time, the Spaniards saw the use of tobacco.

Columbus was particularly anxious to ascertain whether the country he had now reached belonged to the Indian continent. From the rude civilization which he saw around him, the ill constructed huts, the want of clothing among the natives, etc., he knew that he was still at some distance from the territories of the great khan, covered with finely-built cities, and abounding in gold and spices; but he imagined that Cuba might be the extremity of that part of the continent where the expected territories lay. Full of this delusion, he eagerly seized on every little circumstance which seemed to confirm it. When the natives spoke of Cubanacan as the place where the gold was to be found, meaning by it the central district of Cuba, he fancied that they were speaking of the country of Kubla Khan, one of the great potentates mentioned by Marco Polo. At length, however, after cruising along the coast for nearly a fortnight without approaching the confines of the desired country, he altered his course to the east-south-east, intending to sail for an island called Hayti, to which the natives directed him as a place where gold was more plentiful than with them. The fleet left Cuba on the 12th of November, having on board some of the natives, who were to act as guides. On their way thither, ‘Martin Alonzo Pinzon, impatient to be the first who should take possession of the treasures which this country was supposed to contain, quitted his companions, regardless of all the admiral’s signals to slacken sail until they should come up with him. Columbus, retarded by contrary winds, did not reach Hayti till the 6th of December. He called the port where he first touched, St. Nicholas, and the island itself Espagnola, in honor of the kingdom by which he was employed; and it is the only country of those he had yet discovered which has retained the name that he gave it. As he could neither meet with the Pinta, nor have any intercourse with the inhabitants, who fled in great consternation towards the woods, he soon quitted St. Nicholas; and, sailing along the northern coast of the island, he entered another harbor, which he called Conception. Here he was more fortunate; his people overtook a woman who was flying from them, and, after treating her with great gentleness, dismissed her with a present of such toys as they knew were most valued in those regions. The description which she gave to her countrymen of the humanity and wonderful qualities of the strangers, their admiration of the trinkets, which she showed with exultation, and their eagerness to participate in the same favors, removed all their fears, and induced many of them to repair to the harbor. The strange objects which they beheld, and the baubles which Columbus bestowed upon them, amply gratified their curiosity and their wishes. They nearly resembled the people of Guanahani and Cuba. Like them, they were naked, ignorant, and simple; and seemed to be equally unacquainted with all the arts which appear most necessary in polished societies; but they were gentle, credulous, and timid, to a degree which rendered it easy to acquire the ascendency over them, especially as their excessive admiration led them into the same error with the people of the other islands, in believing the Spaniards to be more than mortals, and descended immediately from heaven. They possessed gold in greater abundance than their neighbors, which they readily exchanged for bells, beads, or pins; and in this unequal traffic both parties were highly pleased, each considering themselves as gainers by the transaction.’

The Spaniards remained at Hispaniola for the space of a month, during which time they explored a great part of the coast, and became familiar with the natives. Columbus had a keen sense of the beautiful in scenery, and his journal is full of enthusiastic description of Hispaniola, its deep groves, its clear skies, its tranquil bays, its soft and balmy atmosphere, its birds with their splendid plumage. ‘Tongue,’ he says, ‘cannot express the whole truth, nor pen describe it; and I have been so overwhelmed at the sight of so much beauty, that I have not known how to relate it. The people also seem to have made a deep impression on him by their gentle and confiding manners. ‘So loving, so tractable, so peaceable,’ he says, ‘are these people, that I swear to your majesties there is not in the world a better nation nor a better land. They love their neighbors as themselves; and their discourse is ever sweet and gentle, and accompanied with a smile; and though it is true that they are naked, yet their manners are decorous and praiseworthy.’ Such are the descriptions given of the island of Hayti by its discoverer—​the first island doomed to experience the miseries produced by the cruelty and avarice of the invaders.

The part of Hayti which the fleet first touched at was its western extremity. As usual, one of the earliest inquiries made of the natives was where they obtained gold. The natives, in reply, pointed to a mountainous district to the eastward, which they named Cibao—​a sound in which Columbus, still clinging to his original delusion, traced a resemblance to the Cipango of Marco Polo. Proceeding eastward, therefore, Columbus anchored his two vessels in a habor, to which he gave the name of St. Thomas.

While here he received a message from a chieftain called Guacanagari, one of the five caçiques or kings amongst whom the whole island was divided, requesting that he would come and visit him. Columbus resolved to do so. ‘He sailed for this purpose from St. Thomas on the 24th of December, with a fair wind, and the sea perfectly calm; and as, amongst the multiplicity of his occupations, he had not shut his eyes for two days, he retired at midnight in order to take some repose, having committed the helm to the pilot, with strict injunctions not to quit it for a moment. The pilot, dreading no danger, carelessly left the helm to an inexperienced cabin-boy, and the ship, carried away by the current, was dashed against a rock. The violence of the shock awakened Columbus. He ran up to the deck. There all was confusion and despair. He alone retained presence of mind. He ordered some of the sailors to take a boat, and carry out an anchor astern; but, instead of obeying, they made off towards the Nina, which was about half a league distant. He then commanded the masts to be cut down, in order to lighten the ship; but all his endeavors were too late; the vessel opened near the keel, and filled so fast with water, that its loss was inevitable. The smoothness of the sea, and the timely assistance of boats from the Nina, enabled the crew to save their lives.’ Hearing of the accident, Guacanagari hastened to the shore, and, by the assistance of the Indians with their canoes, everything of value was saved from the wreck. Nothing could exceed the kindness of the chieftain: he testified the utmost sorrow at the loss which had befallen his visitors, and offered his services to repair it. The loss was indeed a serious one to Columbus. He had as yet heard no tidings from the treacherous Pinta; his best ship was a total wreck; and there remained but one crazy little bark to carry so many men back to Europe.

In these circumstances he resolved to leave part of his men in Hispaniola, returning to Spain with the rest for fresh ships and stores. Although driven by necessity to this resolution, it was advisable on many other accounts. The island was one which it would be desirable to colonize at all events; and by leaving a number of men in it, the way would be prepared for a settlement; a quantity of gold would be collected, ready to be carried to Spain against the time he came back; and, by intercourse with the natives, much knowledge would be obtained, not only about Hayti itself, but about the other islands and lands in the Archipelago. Nor did he meet with any difficulty on the part of his men. On the contrary, when the proposal was made to them, many were delighted with the idea of remaining on an island where they would lead a life of such enjoyment. Nothing remained, therefore, but to obtain the permission of Guacanagari, or some other cacique. This was soon granted. It appeared that the island was often visited by a terrible race of people called the Caribs, represented by the Haytians as cannibals, who came from the east, and, penetrating inland, burned their villages, and carried many of them away captives. On the proposal, therefore, of Columbus to leave some of his men on the island, to protect it with their great guns against the incursions of these Caribs, Guacanagari and his people exhibited unbounded delight. The Spaniards immediately commenced building a fortress on a spot named by Columbus La Navidad; not omitting, at the same time, to improve the opportunity of obtaining as much gold as possible from the natives, to be shipped for Spain. Considerable quantities were obtained; the natives readily exchanging little lumps of the precious metal for any trinket offered them. The hawk’s bells of the Spaniards, however, delighted them most. Tying these toys to some part of their persons, they would dance and caper about with them in perfect ecstacies at the sounds they produced; and it is told of one Indian that, having obtained a hawk’s bell in exchange for a lump of gold of about four ounces in weight, he made off to the woods as fast as possible with his prize, lest the Spaniard should repent of his bad bargain, and demand back the bell.

The fortress was soon finished, and thirty-eight men chosen to remain on the island. ‘He intrusted the command of these to Diego de Arado, a gentleman of Cordova, investing him with the same powers which he himself had received from Ferdinand and Isabella; and furnished him with everything requisite for the subsistence or defense of this infant colony. He strictly enjoined them to maintain concord among themselves, to yield an unreserved obedience to their commander, to avoid giving offense to the natives by any violence or exaction, to cultivate the friendship of Guacanagari, but not to put themselves in his power by straggling in small parties, or marching too far from the fort. He promised to revisit them soon, with such a reinforcement of strength as might enable them to take full possession of the country, and to reap all the fruits of their discoveries. In the meantime he engaged to mention their names to the king and queen, and to place their merit and services in the most advantageous light.

‘Having thus taken every precaution for the security of the colony, he left Navidad on the 4th of January 1493, and steering towards the east, discovered and gave names to most of the harbors on the northern coast of the island. On the 6th he descried the Pinta, and soon came up with her, after a separation of more than six weeks. Pinzon endeavored to justify his conduct by pretending that he had been driven from his course by stress of weather, and prevented from returning by contrary winds. The admiral, though he still suspected his perfidious intentions, and knew well what he urged in his own defense to be frivolous as well as false, was so sensible that this was not a proper time for venturing upon any high strain of authority, and felt such satisfaction in this junction with his consort, which delivered him from many disquieting apprehensions, that, lame as Pinzon’s apology was, he admitted of it without difficulty, and restored him to favor. During his absence from the admiral, Pinzon had visited several harbors in the island, and acquired some gold by trafficking with the natives, but had made no discovery of any importance.

‘From the condition of his ships, as well as the temper of his men, Columbus now found it necessary to hasten his return to Europe. The former, having suffered much during a voyage of such unusual length, were extremely leaky; the latter expressed the utmost impatience to revisit their native country, from which they had been so long absent, and where they had things so wonderful and unheard-of to relate. Accordingly, on the 16th of January, he directed his course towards the northeast, and soon lost sight of land. He had on board some of the natives, whom he had taken from the different islands which he discovered; and besides the gold, which was the chief object of research, he had collected specimens of all the productions which were likely to become subjects of commerce in the several countries, as well as many unknown birds, and other natural curiosities, which might attract the attention of the learned, or excite the wonder of the people. The voyage was prosperous to the 14th of February; and he had advanced nearly five hundred leagues across the Atlantic Ocean, when the wind began to rise, and continued to blow with increasing rage, which terminated in a furious hurricane. Everything that the naval skill and experience of Columbus could devise was employed in order to save the ships. But it was impossible to withstand the violence of the storm, and, as they were still far from any land, destruction seemed inevitable. The sailors had recourse to prayers to Almighty God, to the invocation of saints, to vows and charms, to everything that religion dictates or superstition suggests to the affrighted mind of man. No prospect of deliverance appearing, they abandoned themselves to despair, and expected every moment to be swallowed up in the waves. Besides the passions which naturally agitate and alarm the human mind in such awful situations, when certain death, in one of its most terrible forms, is before it, Columbus had to endure feelings of distress peculiar to himself. He dreaded that all knowledge of the amazing discoveries which he had made was now to perish; mankind were to be deprived of every benefit that might have been derived from the happy success of his schemes; and his own name would descend to posterity as that of a rash, deluded adventurer, instead of being transmitted with the honor due to the author and conductor of the most noble enterprise that had ever been undertaken. These reflections extinguished all sense of his own personal danger. Less affected with the loss of life than solicitous to preserve the memory of what he had attempted and achieved, he retired to his cabin, and wrote upon parchment a short account of the voyage which he had made, of the course which he had taken, of the situation and riches of the countries which he had discovered, and of the colony that he had left there. Having wrapped up this in an oiled cloth, which he enclosed in a cake of wax, he put it into a cask carefully stopped up, and threw it into the sea, in hopes that some fortunate accident might preserve a deposit of so much importance to the world.’

The storm at length abated, and Columbus was able to reach the Azores. After being detained here for a short time by a dispute with the Portuguese governor of one of the islands, he continued his voyage, anxious to reach Spain before the Pinta, which had again parted company with him in the storm, with the design, he feared, of being the first to carry the news of his discovery to Spain. A second storm, however, obliged him to make for the coast of Portugal, and take refuge in the Tagus. Proceeding to Lisbon by the king’s invitation, he was received with the highest honors—​having thus the satisfaction of announcing the success of his great scheme to the very persons who, fourteen years before, had scouted and rejected it. After remaining five days at Lisbon, he set out for Palos, having still heard no tidings of the Pinta. He reached the little Spanish seaport on the 15th of March, seven months and four days from the time of his departure from it. Great was the excitement among the inhabitants as they saw the little bark, which they instantly recognized, standing up the river. And when the news spread that the new world was discovered, that Columbus had returned with gold and specimens of the productions of the new lands, and, above all, with live natives on board his ship, the joy was indescribable. The bells were rung, the shops shut, all business was suspended, and the whole population hurried to the shore to receive the admiral with shouts and acclamations, such as usually attend the visits of royalty. Columbus’ first act on landing was to march with his people to church, to return thanks for the success of his voyage. On the evening of the day of his arrival, the missing Pinta likewise entered the harbor, having been driven far to the north by the violence of the storm. The commander, Martin Alonzo Pinzon, full of remorse and chagrin for his past conduct, took to his bed almost immediately on reaching Palos, and died in a few days.

After the first expressions of joy and admiration, Columbus departed for Seville. From this place he sent a message to Barcelona, where the king and queen at that time resided, to lay before them a brief account of his voyage, and to receive from them an indication of their royal will. His reception at Barcelona was particularly gratifying. He made a sort of triumphal entry, surrounded by knights and nobles, who emulated each other in their efforts to swell his praise. He was received publicly by the sovereigns, in a splendid saloon, seated on the throne, and encircled by a magnificent court. On his entrance, they rose to greet him, and would hardly allow him to kiss their hands, considering it too unworthy a mark of vassalage. Columbus then gave an account of his discoveries, and exhibited the different articles which he had brought home with him. He described the quantity of spices, the promise of gold, the fertility of the soil, the delicious climate, the never-fading verdure of the trees, the brilliant plumage of the birds, in the new regions which his own enterprise had acquired for his sovereigns. He then drew their attention to six natives of the new world, whom he had brought, and who were present, and described their manners and dispositions. He exhibited their dresses and ornaments, their rude utensils, their feeble arms; which corresponded with his description of them as naked and ignorant barbarians. To this he added, that he had observed no traces of idolatry or superstition among them, and that they all seemed to be convinced of the existence of a Supreme Being. The conclusion of his speech was in these words: ‘That God had reserved for the Spanish monarchs not only all the treasures of the new world, but a still greater treasure, of inestimable value, in the infinite number of souls destined to be brought over into the bosom of the Christian church.’

After he had finished his address, the whole assembly fell upon their knees, while an anthem was chanted by the choir of the royal chapel. With songs of praise the glory was given to God for the discovery of a new world. Columbus and his adventures were for many days the wonder and delight of the people and the court. The sovereigns admitted the admiral to their audience at all hours, and loaded him with every mark of favor and distinction. Men of the highest rank were proud of the honor of his company.

The news of the great discovery which had been made soon spread over Europe, and the name of Columbus at once became celebrated over the whole of the civilized world. As it was universally believed that the lands which he had discovered were what he supposed them to be—​the extremity of the Asiatic continent—​they were spoken of as the Indies; and hence, even after the error was found out, the name of West Indies still continued to be applied to them.

The Second Voyage—​Colony Founded in Hispaniola.—​No time was lost in fitting out a second expedition to the new world. On the morning of the 25th September, 1493, Columbus left the bay of Cadiz with three large ships and fourteen caravels, loaded with everything necessary to found a colony, and manned not with despondent sailors, as the first fleet had been, but with eager and joyous adventurers, with young and bold cavaliers. In the fleet were several enthusiastic priests, who embarked with the intention of spreading Christianity among the benighted heathens of the new lands.

Steering farther south than in his last voyage, the first land which Columbus made was one of the Caribbee, or Leeward Islands, to which he gave the name of Dominica. It was discovered on the 2d of November, 1493. After cruising for about three weeks among these islands, giving names to several of the largest, among which may be mentioned Porto Rico, and everywhere discovering traces of that savage and warlike disposition which the Haytians had attributed to the Caribs, he bent his course to the north-west, anxious to learn the fate of the little colony which he had left at Hispaniola. Anchoring off the coast of La Navidad, he was surprised and alarmed to find none of the Spaniards on the shore to welcome him, and to receive no return-signals to the shots which he fired announcing his arrival. He soon learned the dreadful truth. Not a man of the thirty-eight he had left remained alive—​they had all fallen victims to their own imprudence and licentiousness. A mystery hung about their story which was never fully cleared up; but it appeared, from the accounts of the natives, that as soon as Columbus had departed the men had begun to range through the island, committing all sorts of crimes, and losing the respect of the Indians; that at length one of the five chieftains of the island, named Caonabo, had attacked the fort, and put them all to death; and that Guacanagari and many of his subjects had been wounded in trying to protect them. With this account Columbus was obliged to be content, although some of his officers questioned its truth, and suspected Guacanagari of having been concerned in the massacre of their countrymen.

A second colony was immediately founded under better auspices. The plan of a city was marked out; and in a short time the building was sufficiently far advanced to afford protection to all who intended to remain on the island. To this rising city, Columbus gave the name of Isabella, in honor of the queen of Castile. Even thus early in the history of the colony, however, symptoms of discontent broke out. Many of the Spaniards were attacked by the diseases incident to a new climate; others, and especially such as were of noble families, began to complain of the hard labor imposed upon them. They had imagined that, on reaching the new world, they would find lumps of gold lying on the soil ready to be gathered, and mines of diamonds which it would only be necessary to open, in order to grow rich; and when they found that what gold the island contained was only to be obtained by industry, and that the principal value of the new country consisted in the fertility of its soil, and its readiness to yield abundant produce to the patient cultivator, they could not conceal their disappointment and dislike to the ambitious foreigner, whose false representations, they said, had lured them from their homes. To banish these gloomy thoughts from the minds of the colonists, Columbus, as soon as the settlement of Isabella was in tolerable condition, employed himself and his men in expeditions into the interior of the island, especially to the mountainous district of Cibao, where gold was said to be obtained in large quantities.

Returning from a long expedition into the interior in the end of March 1492, Columbus found the colony of Isabella in a most flourishing condition. The only drawbacks to the satisfaction of Columbus were the illness of many of the colonists, their growing discontent, and the symptoms of ill-will which the natives began at length to manifest towards the Spaniards. Still, as there was no appearance of any interruption to the tranquillity of the colony, Columbus resolved to undertake a voyage of discovery through the Archipelago, with a view to reach the great Indian continent, of which his imagination was still full. Leaving, therefore, his brother Diego to govern the Island, with the assistance of a council of officers, and intrusting the command of a body of soldiers to Don Pedro Margarita, he sailed from Hayti on the 24th of April 1494. For five months he sailed in various directions through the West Indian Archipelago in quest of the imaginary Cathay or Cipango; discovering nothing of consequence, however, except the island of Jamaica. The weather was tempestuous; and it was only by incessant care on the part of the admiral that his fleet was kept afloat. At length, wearied out with his labors, he was attacked by a violent fever, which terminated in a sort of lethargy or paralysis of all his faculties; and his officers, despairing of his life, returned to Hispaniola in the month of September.

Here a joyful surprise awaited Columbus, which contributed greatly to his recovery. His brother Bartholomew, whom he had not seen for several years, had arrived in the island during his absence. Bartholomew, it will be remembered, had been despatched in 1488 to England, with offers of his brother’s project to Henry VIII; but had been captured by pirates on the way. Escaping at length, he was engaged in negotiations with the English monarch, when he learned that his brother had returned to Spain with the announcement of a new world. Ere he could reach Spain, however, Columbus had departed on his second voyage; but on arriving, he had been treated with great honor by the Spanish sovereigns, and intrusted with the command of a squadron which they were sending out to the colony with provisions. Bartholomew was a man of extraordinary vigor and talent, with less enthusiasm and genius than his brother the admiral, but his equal in decision and sagacity; and much superior to his other brother Diego, who, though a worthy and good man, was of a soft and yielding character.

During Columbus’ absence the colony had fallen into confusion. Besides the growing discontent of many of the colonists, the natives were in insurrection—​provoked, as it appeared, by the ravages and cruelties of the whites. It was necessary, in the first place, to reduce the natives to obedience. Several months were spent in this wretched and bloody work; which was at length accomplished at the expense of the lives of some Spaniards and thousands of the natives. Many of the latter were also taken prisoners, and reduced to servitude; some of them being even shipped to Spain, to be sold in the slave market. The natives universally were compelled to pay tribute. ‘Each person above fourteen years of age, who lived in those districts where gold was found, was obliged to pay quarterly as much gold dust as filled a hawk’s bell; from those in other parts of the country twenty-five pounds of cotton were demanded.’ This was the first regular taxation of the Indians, and served as a precedent for exactions still more intolerable. Such an imposition was extremely contrary to those maxims which Columbus had hitherto inculcated with respect to the mode of treating them. But intrigues were carrying on in the court of Spain at this juncture, in order to undermine his power and discredit his operations, which constrained him to depart from his own system of administration. Several unfavorable accounts of his conduct, as well as of the countries discovered by him, had been transmitted to Spain. Columbus saw that there was but one method of supporting his own credit, and of silencing his adversaries. He must produce such a quantity of gold as would not only justify what he had reported with respect to the richness of the country, but encourage Ferdinand and Isabella to persevere in prosecuting his plans. The necessity of obtaining it forced him not only to impose a heavy tax upon the Indians, but to exact payment of it with extreme rigor; and may be pleaded in excuse for his deviating on this occasion from the mildness and humanity with which he uniformly treated that unhappy people.

The task of reducing the island to order occupied Columbus till towards the end of the year 1495. Meanwhile the representations of his enemies in Spain had gained such weight over the cold and jealous Ferdinand, and even over the generous soul of Isabella, that they resolved to send out a commissioner to investigate into his conduct. The person chosen for this office was Aguado, a groom of the king’s bed-chamber. On arriving in Hispaniola, Aguado’s behavior was so arrogant, and had such a bad effect upon the interests of the colony, that Columbus determined to proceed to Spain, and vindicate his conduct personally to the sovereigns. Accordingly, appointing his brother Bartholomew adelantado, or lieutenant-governor, of the island, and Francis Roldan chief-justice, he set sail in the spring of 1496, and arrived safely in Spain.

Third and Fourth Voyages—​Ill-treatment of Columbus—​Death. The appearance of Columbus in Spain, his manly and candid defense of his conduct, his glowing exposition of the value of his discoveries, and the best means of prosecuting them, had the effect of silencing his detractors for a time. A third expedition was fitted out at his solicitation. It was not, however, till the beginning of 1498 that all was in readiness. This delay arose partly from the dilatoriness of officials, and partly from the unwillingness of men to engage in an enterprise which did not now appear so captivating as it did at first. ‘To supply the want of voluntary recruits,’ a measure was adopted, at the suggestion of Columbus, which shows the desperate alternatives to which he was reduced by the great reaction of public sentiment. This was to commute the sentences of criminals condemned to banishment, to the galleys, or to the mines, into transportation to the new settlements, where they were to labor in the public service without pay. This pernicious measure, calculated to poison the population of an infant community at its very source, was a fruitful cause of trouble, and misery and detriment to the colony. It has been frequently adopted by various nations whose superior experience should have taught them better, and has proved the bane of many a rising settlement. It is assuredly as unnatural for a metropolis to cast forth its crimes and its vices upon its colonies, as it would be for a parent willingly to engraft disease upon his children.

On the 30th of May 1498, Columbus set sail on his third voyage, with a squadron of six vessels. Sailing much farther south in this voyage than he had done in the two former, he landed on the coast of Paria, in the South American continent. The circumstances of this third voyage, part of which lay within the tropics, and the appearance of the new coasts to which it conducted him, made a strong impression on the mind of Columbus, which had a natural bent for theorising upon every phenomenon presented to it. Among other theories which he started about this time, was one by which he attempted to explain the variation of the compass, and other extraordinary changes which occurred in passing from the old world to the new. According to this theory, he supposed that the earth, instead of being spherical, as hitherto imagined, was elongated or pear-shaped, with one end bulbous, and the other produced and tapering—​a theory which, however absurd it may seem, was really a step in advance of the science of the day.

After coasting along the South American continent, acquiring information which he thought all tended to show that he was on the track of the long-desired Indies of Marco Polo, Columbus was obliged, by the shattered condition of his ships, to make for Hispaniola. Here he found all in confusion. Roldan, whom he had appointed chief justice, had rebelled against the authority of the adelantado, and was living in another part of the island as the head of a band of insurgents. Bartholomew had governed the colony vigorously and well; but being a foreigner, and not of high birth, he was unpopular with the Spaniards. It required all Columbus’ skill and command of temper to restore the semblance of order. By a seasonable proclamation, offering free pardon to such as should merit it by returning to their duty, he made impression upon some of the malcontents. By engaging to grant such as should desire it the liberty of returning to Spain, he allured all those unfortunate adventurers who, from sickness and disappointment, were disgusted with the country. By promising to reëstablish Roldan in his former office, he soothed his pride; and, by complying with most of his demands in behalf of his followers, he satisfied their avarice. Thus gradually, and without bloodshed, but after many negotiations, he dissolved this dangerous combination, which threatened the colony with ruin, and restored the appearance of order, regular government, and tranquillity.

Meanwhile Columbus’ enemies were again undermining his popularity in Spain. The accounts which Roldan and others sent home of the arrogance of Columbus and his brothers, received more credit than the admiral’s own despatches. Owing also to the cessation of labor in the colony, Columbus was unable to send home so much wealth as the sovereigns expected. Private adventurers were likewise fitting out expeditions of discovery to the new world; and Ferdinand began to be of opinion that it would be more for the interests of the crown to deprive Columbus of his great and exclusive privileges as his viceroy in the new world, and to place the colonial government on a new footing. Isabella alone seemed to befriend the admiral. At length, however, on the arrival of some ships from Hispaniola freighted with natives, whom Columbus had been forced to permit some of the refractory colonists to take with them on their return to Spain, to be sold in the slave market, her queenly soul, abhorring the idea of making wealth by the sale of human beings, took fire, and she indignantly exclaimed, ‘What right has the admiral to give away my vassals?’ She no longer opposed Ferdinand’s desire to send out a person to examine into the conduct of Columbus, and, if necessary, to order him home. The person chosen as commissioner was Don Francisco de Bovadilla, an officer of the royal household.

On arriving at Hispaniola, Bovadilla reversed the order of his written instructions. He superseded Columbus before investigating into his conduct. Entering the admiral’s residence at Isabella, he seized all his furniture, books, and papers; and by his orders Columbus, with his brothers Diego and Bartholomew, were put in irons. What a burlesque on national gratitude was this outrage! The man who had led Europeans to an acquaintance with America, actually put in manacles by a miserable instrument of the Spanish government! Overcome with emotion, Columbus was thus led on board a ship which waited to receive him. On arriving on board, an officer charged with the duty of attending on him and his brothers offered, with considerate humanity, to remove the irons from his prisoners; but the admiral refused, saying that they were put on by the command of their majesties, and should remain till removed by the same authority. These irons Columbus afterwards preserved as relics.

The rumor had no sooner circulated at Cadiz and Seville that Columbus and his brothers had arrived, loaded with chains, and condemned to death, than it gave rise to a burst of public indignation. The excitement was strong and universal; and messengers were immediately despatched to convey the intelligence to Ferdinand and Isabella. The sovereigns were moved by this exhibition of popular feeling, and were offended that their name and authority should have been used to sanction such dishonorable violence. They gave orders for the immediate liberation of the prisoners, and for their being escorted to Granada with the respect and honor they deserved. They annulled, without examination, all the processes against them, and promised an ample punishment for all their wrongs. At his first interview with the sovereigns after his arrival, Columbus was so overcome that he threw himself at their feet, where he remained for some minutes drowned in tears, and unable to speak from the violence of his sobbings.

Columbus, however, was not reäppointed to his command in Hispaniola. Bovadilla, it is true, was superseded; but his successor was Don Nicholas de Ovando, a Spanish cavalier. It was represented to Columbus that this appointment was only temporary, and that as soon as the colony was in an orderly condition, he would be reinstated in his privileges. In the meantime, he was to undertake a fourth voyage of discovery. In consequence of the knowledge which he had obtained on his previous voyages—​as well as from the voyages of the numerous adventurers who followed him—​of the extent of the American continent, connected with the announcement with which Europe was then ringing, of the final accomplishment of the great feat of the circumnavigation of Africa by Vasco de Gama in 1497, the genius of Columbus had conceived a new project, or rather a modification of his former one. This was the discovery of some strait lying somewhere between Honduras and Paria, in about the situation of what is now known as the Isthmus of Darien, and leading into the Indian Ocean. Having discovered this strait, he would sail through it, coast along the Indies to the shores of Arabia, and either sail up the Red Sea, and travel overland to Spain; or repeat Vasco de Gama’s feat the reverse way, and reach Spain after having circumnavigated the world. Such was the gigantic scheme with the thoughts of which the great old man regaled his declining years. We mistake the character of Columbus if we suppose him merely to have been a man of extraordinary courage, coupled with what we usually understand by the term intellect. He had perhaps one of the most daring and fanciful imaginations. He regarded himself as a personage expressly predestined by heaven to discover a new world, and prepare the way for the recovery of the holy sepulchre, and the conversion of the whole world to Christianity. These three events he conceived to be linked to each other by prophecy; and he considered that he was the instrument in God’s hands for bringing them all about.

On the 9th of May 1502, Columbus again set sail from Cadiz on a fourth voyage of discovery. During this expedition he touched at some parts of the South American continent, and also at some of the formerly-discovered islands; but he failed in making any important discoveries, in consequence of the bad state of his vessels, which were old, and unfit for sailing. With a squadron reduced to a single vessel he now returned to Spain, where he heard with regret of the death of his patron Isabella. This was a sad blow to his expectations of redress and remuneration. Ferdinand was jealous and ungrateful. He was weary of a man who had conferred so much glory on his kingdom, and unwilling to repay him with the honors and privileges his extraordinary services so richly merited. Columbus, therefore, sank into obscurity, and was reduced to such straitened circumstances, that according to his own account, he had no place to repair to except an inn, and very frequently had not wherewithal to pay his reckoning. Disgusted and mortified by the base conduct of Ferdinand, exhausted with the hardships which he had suffered, and oppressed with infirmities, Columbus closed his life at Valladolid on the 20th of May 1506. He died with a composure of mind suitable to the magnanimity which distinguished his character, and with sentiments of piety becoming that supreme respect for religion which he manifested in every occurrence of his life.

Columbus experienced the fate of most great men—​little esteemed during his life, but almost deified after his decease. Fedinand, with a meanness which covers his memory with infamy, allowed this great man to pine and die, a victim of injustice and mortification; but no sooner was he dead, than he erected a splendid monument over his remains in one of the churches of Seville. The body of Columbus was not destined, however, to be indebted to Spain for even this posthumous honor; it was afterwards according to the will of the deceased, transferred to St. Domingo, and buried in the cathedral there; but on the cession of that island, to the French, in the year 1795, it was transferred to Havana, in the island of Cuba, where we hope it will rest in peace.

The discoveries of Columbus laid open a knowledge of what are now termed the West India Islands, and a small portion of the South American continent, which this great navigator, till the day of his death, believed to be a part of Asia or India. About ten years after his decease the real character of America and its islands became known to European navigators; and by a casual circumstance one of these adventurers, Amerigo Vespucii, a Florentine, had the honor of conferring the name America upon a division of the globe which ought, in justice, to have been called after the unfortunate Columbus.

Ferdinand Magellan was by birth a Portuguese, decended from a good family, and born towards the end of the fifteenth century. In consequence of certain services in the Indian Seas, he applied to the government for some recompense; but being treated with neglect, he left his own country to seek employment in a foreign land. In company with Ruy Falero, an eminent astronomer, and one of his associates, he traveled into Spain, and explained to Charles V, the reigning monarch, his project of making discoveries in distant seas. The court listened to the adventurer with favor, and consented to fit out an expedition.

Magellan’s little squadron consisted of five ships, manned with 237 men, and supplied with provisions, ammunition and stores, for two years. On the 1st of August, 1519, they left Seville, and on the 27th of September sailed from Sanlucar, steering for the Canaries. They refreshed at Teneriffe, and early in October passed the Cape de Verd Islands. Holding on their course, they bore along the coast of Africa, till they crossed the line, seventy days after their departure. In the beginning of December, they came to that part of Brazil which is now called the Bay of St. Lucia. They subsequently anchored at the mouth of a large river, supposed to be the Rio Janeiro, where they continued a fortnight. On their first landing, the inhabitants flocked to the beach in great numbers, beholding, as they imagined, five sea-monsters approaching the shore. When the boats put out from the ships, the natives set up a great shout, conceiving them to be young sea-monsters, the offspring of the others.

Proceeding along the South American Coast, the squadron arrived in April, 1520, at a large bay, now called by the name of St. Julian. Here they saw a wild, gigantic race, of great size and fierceness, who made a roaring not unlike that of bulls. One of them came on board the admiral’s ship, and was well pleased with his reception; but happening to cast his eyes on a looking-glass, he was so terrified, that starting backwards, he beat to the ground two men who stood behind him. Others subsequently came on board, and their behavior afforded great entertainment to the officers. One of these savages ate a basket full of ship-biscuits, and drank a cask of water at a meal. They wore sandals, or a kind of shoes, made of skins, and this caused their feet to appear like those of an animal. Magellan named them Patagonians, from the Spanish word pata, signifying a hoof, or paw.

Magellan determined to continue here till the return of spring, as it is winter in the southern hemisphere during our summer. He had ordered the allowance of provisions to be shortened, to meet this exigence, which caused much discontent among the crews. A mutiny soon followed, which was not quelled till one of the officers was hanged, and some others were sent on shore to be left among the Patagonians. Five dreary months were passed in the harbor of St. Julian, during which, every exertion was made to insure the successful prosecution of the voyage. On the 24th of August, the squadron again set sail, the weather being fine, and proceeded southward, till a violent gale from the east drove one of the vessels on shore, but the crew was happily saved. Coasting south with the four remaining ships, they approached a cape, near which an opening was discovered which was found afterwards to be a strait. Upon this, Magellan gave orders that all other ships should carefully examine the strait, promising to wait for them a certain number of days. While the three vessels were employed in this expedition, one of them was driven out of the strait by the reflux of the tide, when the crew, dissatisfied with their situation, rose on their captain, made him prisoner, and again set sail for Europe. After waiting several days beyond the time he had fixed, Magellan entered the strait or arm of the sea, which has ever since retained his name. The entrance lies in 52 degrees south latitude, and the strait, which is about 110 leagues in length, is very wide in some places, and in others not more than half a league from shore to shore. On both sides the land was high, and the mountains were covered with snow, on advancing about 50 leagues west from the entrance.

In about six weeks they found themselves again in an open sea, the coast terminating westward in a cape, and the shore of the continent taking a northerly direction. The sight of the Pacific Ocean gave Magellan the utmost joy, he being the first European who sailed upon it. Proceeding W.N.W. he arrived at the Ladrone Islands, to which he gave that name on account of the thievish disposition of the natives.

They sailed from the Ladrones on the 10th of March, 1521, and after visiting a number of islands, entered the port of Lebu on the 7th of April. From Lebu they sailed to the island of Mathan, which being governed by two kings, and one of them refusing to pay tribute to the king of Spain, Magellan prepared to reduce him. He marched into the interior of the island, accompanied by sixty Europeans. Here he was attacked by three distinct bodies of the islanders, whose united force amounted to upwards of six thousand. The battle was for some time doubtful, till Magellan’s impetuosity carrying him too far, he was killed by being wounded in the leg with a poisoned arrow, and stabbed through the body by a spear. Eight or nine of the Spaniards and fifteen of the Indians were also slain. After the death of the admiral, new commanders were chosen from among the surviving officers, and as the ships were now in a very bad condition, it was found necessary to make use of one to repair the other two.

Sailing W.S.W. they came to the rich island of Borneo. From this place they sailed to Cimbubon, where they were detained forty days in repairing their ships and taking in wood and water. Bending their course hence S.E. for the Moluccas, they came to anchor in the port of Tidore on the 8th of November. After remaining here some time, they set sail in one ship alone and with fifty-nine persons on board, for Europe. To double the Cape of Good Hope with the greater safety, they sailed as low as 42 degrees S. latitude, where they were obliged to wait seven weeks for a wind. On doubling the cape they were much distressed by hunger and sickness. For two months they held on their course to the N.W. without touching at any port, during which time they lost twenty-one persons, and the rest were on the point of starving.

In this situation they arrived at St. Jago, one of the Cape de Verd Islands. Finally on the 7th of September, they entered St. Lucar in Spain, with their number reduced to about eighteen persons. According to their reckoning, they had sailed 14,000 leagues, and crossed the equator six times, having been absent three years wanting fourteen days. This was the First Voyage Round the World that had ever been made.

Mr. Drake was first apprenticed to the master of a small vessel trading to France and Zealand; at the age of eighteen he went purser of a ship to the Bay of Biscay, and at twenty made a voyage to the coast of Guinea. Having obtained Queen Elizabeth’s permission for an expedition against the Spaniards, five ships were fitted out, having on board 164 able men and a large quantity of provisions. This fleet sailed out of Plymouth Sound on the 5th of November, 1577; but meeting with a violent storm, they were obliged to put back and refit. On the 13th of December they sailed again, and on the 25th passed Cape Cantin on the coast of Barbary. After visiting numerous islands and meeting with various adventures, having passed the line, they at length discovered the coast of Brazil on the 5th of April, it being fifty-four days since they saw land. As soon as the people on shore saw the ships, they made large fires in different parts, and performed ceremonies to prevail on the gods to sink the vessels, or at least to prevent their landing. Sailing southward, they anchored in fort St. Julian, where the admiral going on shore with six men, some of the natives slew the gunner, whose death was revenged by the commander, who killed the murderer with his own hand. At this place Magellan having executed one of his company who conspired against his life, Drake caused one of the crew named Doughty to be tried for the same offense against himself; and executed him on the same gibbet.

On the 20th of August, they fell in with the strait of Magellan, which they entered, but found so full of intricate windings, that the same wind which was sometimes in their favor, was at others against them. After several difficulties, they entered the South Sea on the 6th of September, and on the next day a violent storm drove them 200 leagues south of the strait, where they anchored among some islands, abounding in herbs and water. Being now arrived at the other mouth of the strait, they steered for the coast of Chili. On their course they met an Indian in a canoe, who informed them that at St. Jago there was a large ship laden for Peru. The admiral rewarded him for this information, whereupon he conducted them to the place where the ship lay at anchor. There were only eight Spaniards and three negroes on board, who mistaking them for friends, welcomed them, and invited them to drink Chili wine. Drake accepted the invitation, and going on board, put them under hatches; arriving on shore, he rifled the town and chapel, from which he took great quantities of silver and gold. Proceeding to sea, they arrived at the port of Tarapaxa, where some of them going on shore, found a Spaniard asleep, with eighteen bars of silver laying by his side, which they took without waking him.

Entering the port of Lima on the 13th of February, they found twelve sail of ships at anchor unguarded, the crews being all on shore. Examining these vessels they found much plate, together with rich silks and linens, which they took away; but having learned that a rich ship called the Cacafuego had lately sailed from that harbor for Taila, the admiral determined to follow her. Having come up with the chase, they gave her three shots, which brought away the mizzen-mast, whereupon they boarded her, and found thirteen chests full of rials of plate, eighty pounds-weight of gold, a quantity of jewels, and twenty-six tons of silver in bars.

They subsequently took several other rich prizes, and Drake having now revenged himself on the Spaniards, began to think of the best way of returning to England. To return by the straits of Magellan would be to throw himself into the hands of the Spaniards; he therefore determined to sail westward to the East Indies, and return by the Cape of Good Hope. But wanting wind, he sailed toward the north, and in 38 degrees N. latitude, discovered a country, which from its white cliffs he called New Albion, though it is now known by the name of California. Here they were received with much hospitality by the natives, and the king made Drake a solemn tender of his kingdom. Sailing hence, they saw the Ladrones on the 13th of October. The admiral held on his course without delay, and on the 4th of November, fell in with the Moluccas. Having arrived at a little island south of Celebes, they staid 26 days, in order to repair the ships. Setting sail hence, they ran among a number of small islands, and the wind shifting about suddenly, drove them upon a rock, on the evening of the 9th of January, 1579, where they stuck fast, till four in the afternoon of the next day. In this extremity they lightened the vessel by taking out eight pieces of ordnance and three tons of cloves. On the 18th of June, they doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and on the 22d of July arrived at Sierra Leone, where they found a great number of elephants. They staid here two days, and holding on their course for Plymouth, arrived there on Monday, September 26, 1580; but according to their own reckoning, on Sunday the 25th, having gone round the world in two years, ten months, and a few days. The honor of knighthood was conferred on Drake, and a chair was made from his ship, which is still shown as a curiosity at Oxford.

The distinguished English naval discoverer, Henry Hudson, sailed from London in the year 1607, in a small vessel, for the purpose of discovering a north-east passage to China and Japan, with a crew of only ten men and a boy besides himself, and, proceeding beyond the 80th degree of latitude, returned to England in September. In a second voyage, the next year, he landed at Nova Zembla, but could proceed no farther eastward. In 1609, he undertook a third voyage, under the patronage of the Dutch East India Company. Being unsuccessful in his attempt to find a north-east passage, he sailed for Davis’ straits, but struck the continent of America in 44 deg. N. lat., and holding a southerly course, discovered the mouth of the river Hudson, which he ascended about fifty leagues in a boat. His last voyage was undertaken in 1610. He sailed, April 17th, in a barque named the Discovery, with a crew of twenty-three men, and came within sight of Greenland, June 4th. Proceeding westward he reached, in latitude 60 deg., the strait bearing his name. Through this he advanced along the coast of Labrador, to which he gave the name of Nova Brittannia, until it issued into the vast bay, which is also called after him. He resolved to winter in the most southern part of it, and the crew drew up the ship in a small creek, and endeavored to sustain the severity of that dismal climate, in which attempt they endured severe privations. Hudson, however, fitted up his shallop for farther discoveries; but, not being able to establish any communication with the natives, or to revictual his ship, with tears in his eyes he distributed his little remaining bread to his men, and prepared to return. Having a dissatisfied and mutinous crew, he imprudently uttered some threats of setting some of them on shore; upon which a body of them entered his cabin at night, tied his arms behind him, and put him in his own shallop, at the west end of the straits, with his son, John Hudson, and seven of the most infirm of the crew. They were then turned adrift, and were never more heard of. A small part of the crew, after enduring incredible hardships, arrived at Plymouth, in September, 1611.

A belief that to the south of the strait of Magellan there would be found an open sea, or some other passage leading to the South Sea, had many years been gaining ground, when a company of Dutch merchants determined to make the experiment, which, if successful, would open to them, as they belived, the trade to India, by a new, instead of an interdicted passage, which the strait of Magellan then was.

Jacob le Maire was appointed principal merchant, and president of the ships; and Wilhelm Schouten, an able seamen, received the charge of patron or master mariner. The vessels fitted out were the Eendracht, a ship of three hundred and sixty tons, nineteen guns, and sixty-five men, and a galliot, named the Horne, of one hundred and ten tons, eight guns and twenty-two men. The president, Le Maire, and Patron Schouten, sailed in the former; the latter was commanded by Jan Schouten, brother to the patron, with Adrian Claesz as merchant.

June the 4th, 1615, they quitted the Texel, and in three days anchored in the Downs, where an English gunner was hired. On the 30th of August, dropped anchor in the road of Sierra Leone, where a stock of twenty-five thousand lemons was purchased from the natives, for a few beads. On the 5th of October, were in latitude four degrees seventeen minutes N. when a great noise was heard on board the Eendracht, and immediately after the sea around it became red with blood. Afterwards a piece of the horn of some sea animal was found sticking in the bottom of the ship, seven feet below the water line, having penetrated through the planking, and into one of the ribs: about the same length remained without; it was similar in shape and size to the end of an elephant’s tooth.

Having passed the line, they struck soundings in seventy-five fathoms depth, on the 4th of December, and two days after saw the American coast. On the 8th, anchored in Port Desire, where they took a large supply of birds, etc. On the 19th, the Horne caught fire, and was totally consumed. On the 13th of January, 1616, the Eendracht quitted Port Desire, and on the 20th, passed the latitude of the entrance of the straits of Magellan. On the 24th saw Terra del Fuego to the right, not more than a league off, and on the 29th passed to the north of some rocky islets: Terra del Fuego appeared to the W. N. W. and W., all hilly land covered with snow, with a sharp point which they called Cape Horne, in honor of the vessel which they had lost. On the 30th, having passed to the south of the Cape, steered west, encountering great waves with a current to the westward; and afterwards steered north. The ship continued to advance northward, and on the 1st of March, made the island of Juan Fernandez, and caught two tons of fish, but could find no anchorage. Steering for the East Indies they visited a number of small islands, and on the 5th of August came to the Isle of Goley, subject to the King of Tidore. Sailed again next day; and, after being much delayed by calms, met, September the 7th, with a ship of their own country, anchoring the same day at the Island of Ternate. They were kindly received by the people in power; the Eendracht had not lost one of her crew in her long cruisings, and they had discovered a new passage to the South Sea; yet these merits did not avail them, for on the arrival of the ship at Batavia, she was seized and condemned, on a supposed infringement of the rights of the Dutch East India Company, the officers and crew being put on board other ships, to be conveyed to Europe.

On the 31st of December, during the passage home, died the president, Jacob Le Maire, a victim to the unworthy treatment he had received—​a worthy man and a skillful navigator; and on the 1st of July, 1617, his companions arrived at Holland, by the way of Good Hope, having been absent two years and seventeen days.

In the year 1630, several wealthy merchants of Bristol united in fitting out a vessel for the purpose of accurately examining the whole northern coast of America. The command of this vessel, which was small, only of seventy tons burden, but one of the strongest ships of her size that had ever been built, was given to Captain James. She was provisioned for eighteen months, and manned with only twenty-two seamen, but these were all excellent sailors.

His stores having been all shipped, and the men on board, Captain James left Bristol in the month of April 1631. After passing the southern coast of Ireland, he sailed in a west-north-west-erly direction, and on the fourth of June discovered the coast of Greenland. Two days subsequently to this, his vessel was encompassed with ice, many immense pieces of which beat so violently against her that the captain was fearful she would have been staved and sunk. The boat that accompanied her was crushed to atoms. In one instance he was obliged to order the ship to be made fast to a great piece of the ice, and during a day and night to employ men incessantly in pushing off such masses of ice as floated against her; but in this labor all their poles were broken. The wind at length blew a perfect hurricane, and, though the broken ice on almost all sides rose higher than the decks, and the vessel was beaten about in a most alarming manner, she suffered no injury.

On the morning of the tenth of June, these hardy adventurers passed some masses of the ice that were as high as the topmost of their vessel, and left Cape Desolation, in Greenland, to the eastward. The weather was now so cold that at one time the sails and rigging were all frozen. On the twentieth, the ship reached the southern point of the island of Resolution, at the entrance of Hudson’s Strait, but she was several times carried round by the current, and floating ice, and was in imminent danger of being crushed to pieces before she could be brought to anchor. It now began to snow heavily, and the wind blew a storm from the westward. This drove the ice from the sea into the harbor where the vessel was stationed, until it was choked up. For some time the ice seemed to be perfectly firm and immovable, but it floated out again at the ebb of the tide. The various dangers to which the vessel was exposed in this harbor, of being thrown against the rocks, crushed to pieces in the ice, and sunk, were so great that the captain almost gave up all hope of being able to save her. He describes the thundering noise of the masses of ice beating against each other, the rushing of the water, and the fury of the current, to have been tremendous. After much difficulty and the most persevering exertions, however, she was navigated into a little cove or harbor, where, being made fast to the rocks, she was at length rendered tolerably secure.

Captain James landed on the island, but found that although the summer was far advanced, the ponds were yet frozen. The ground was rocky and barren, and no traces of animals were visible in the snow, though it was evident from some hearths and remains of fire-wood which were seen, that human beings had not long before visited the place. Captain James continued here two days, and then sailed westward; but the masses of ice were still almost impenetrable. They grated the sides of the vessel with such violence that it was feared they would burst through the planks. On looking out from the mast-head scarcely an acre of open sea was visible: nothing was to be seen but a continued and irregular range of ice, towering in different places to an immense height. The ship was thus surrounded till the twenty-seventh of June, when, by a gale from the south-east, the ice opened, and she was enabled to make some way.

Though exposed to incessant danger by the immense masses of ice, which floated on the surface of the ocean, Captain James and his associates proceeded still westward, and entered Hudson’s Strait about the beginning of July. On the fifteenth of that month, they arrived betwixt Digg’s Island and Nottingham Island, but the summer was so cold and unfavorable that it was now evident there would be no possibility of proceeding much further northward this year. About a fortnight afterwards, they were so fast enclosed in the ice, that notwithstanding the ship had all her sails set, and it blew a strong breeze, she was immovable and as firmly fixed as if she had been in a dry dock. On this, the captain and many of the men walked out of her to amuse themselves upon the ice. Several of the crew now began to murmur, and to express great alarm, lest they should not be able either to proceed or return; and lest their provisions, which were beginning to fall short, would soon wholly fail. The captain encouraged them as well as he was able, and though he was aware their murmuring was not without a reason, he affected to ridicule their fears. Among other contrivances to amuse them, he took a quantity of spirits upon the ice, and there drank the king’s health, although there was not a single man in the ship, and though she was at that time under all her sails. This was the twenty-eighth of July. On the thirtieth, they made some little way through the ice, part of the crew heaving the vessel along with their shoulders, whilst others at the same time, broke off the corners of the ice with mallets and iron crows, to clear the way. This labor was continued on the following day, and after much fatigue, they got the ship into thirty-five fathom water. All this time they were in latitude 58 deg. 45 minutes north, and a few days afterwards they were in an open sea free from ice. The Captain and his crew now joined in devout thanksgiving for their deliverance from the dangers to which they had been exposed.

A few days subsequently to this, whilst the ship was under sail, she struck upon some rocks that were concealed by the water, and received three such terrible blows, that the captain was fearful her masts would have been shivered to pieces, and he had no doubt that a hole had been beaten through her sides. But such was the strength of her timbers that she received little injury, and in a short time, was again out of danger.

On the twentieth of August, and in latitude 57 deg. north, they came within sight of land, part of the continent of North America, which the captain named New South Wales, in honor of Charles, Prince of Wales, afterwards King Charles the second: and on the third of September they passed a cape, to which he gave the name of Cape Henrietta Maria, after the Queen. In the ensuing evening, they encountered such a tempest of thunder, snow, rain, and wind, as none of the crew had ever before been exposed to. The sea washed completely over the decks, and the vessel rolled so tremendously, that it was not without great difficulty all things could be kept fast in the hold, and betwixt the decks.

As the winter was now approaching, Captain James began to look out for some harbor, where he and his companions could pass that cheerless season, with as little discomfort, and in as much security, as possible. Landing, on the third of October, upon an island, in the bay that has since been called James’ Bay, he found the tracks of deer, and saw some wild fowl; but not being able to discover a safe anchorage, he proceeded onward with the vessel, and two days afterwards moored the ship, in a place of tolerable security near the same island. It now snowed without intermission, and was so cold that the sails were frozen quite hard, and the cable was as thick with ice as a man’s body.

Several men were sent ashore to cut wood for fuel, and they collected as much as, it was estimated, would last two or three months. It was found inconvenient, particularly for some of the crew who were sick, to continue entirely in the vessel; a kind of house was, therefore, erected on shore, under the direction of the carpenter. In the meantime the captain and some of the men went into the woods to see whether they could discover any traces of human beings, that, in case they found such, they might be on their guard against attack. None were found. The topsails were now taken down from the vessel, thawed, and dried by great fires, and then folded up and secured from wet between the decks. The main-sail was carried on shore, to be used as a covering for the house. In about four days, the house was ready, and a portion of the crew slept in it every night, armed with muskets to defend themselves in case of attack, and guarded by two buck-hounds, which had been brought from England, for the hunting of deer. Such of the other rigging of the vessel as could be taken down, was now removed, and placed under the decks.

On the fourteenth of October, six of the men set out with the dogs, in the hope of killing some deer, the tracks of which they had previously seen. They wandered more than twenty miles over the snow, and returned the next day with one small and lean animal; having passed a cold and miserable night in the woods. Others went out a few days afterwards, and to a still greater distance; these were not only unsuccessful, but they lost one of their companions, who, on attempting to cross a small frozen lake, fell in and was drowned. The captain consequently gave directions that hunting to such distances should be no more attempted.

The crew at first brought beer ashore from the ship; but this, even in their house, and close by the fire, was frozen and spoiled in one night. After this they drank water, which they obtained from a well that they sunk near the house. Their time was chiefly passed in setting traps and hunting for foxes and other animals, and in such occupations as were requisite for their own preservation.

The winter was now so far advanced, that the ship appeared, from the shore, like a piece of ice in the form of a ship. The snow was frozen on every part, and her decks and sides were covered with ice. The captain began to despair of ever again getting her off. Every day the men were employed in beating the ice from the cables, and digging it out of the hawsers with a calking iron; and in these operations the water would freeze on their clothes and hands, so as very soon to render them unequal to almost any exertion.

The ship was found to beat so much, that the captain could devise no other means of preventing her from being shattered to pieces and destroyed, than by directing holes to be bored through her sides, and sinking her in shallow water; where, in the ensuing spring, he might have a chance of again raising her. This was a fearful expedient; but, after all the provisions and things requisite for use on shore had been taken out of her, it was adopted; although it was the general opinion of the crew that she could never be floated again. They, however, had so strong an attachment for their captain, and so much confidence in him, that, even in the midst of despair, they obeyed implicitly all his commands. With true Christian confidence, he exhorted them not to be dismayed. ‘If,’ said he, ‘we end our days here, we are as near heaven as in England; and we are much bound to God Almighty for having given us so large a time for repentance, and having thus, as it were, daily called upon us to prepare our souls for a better life in heaven. He does not, in the meantime, deny that we may use all proper means to save and prolong our lives; and in my judgment, we are not so far past hope of returning to our native country, but that I see a fair way by which we may effect it.’ He then said that there was timber enough in the island for them to build a pinnace or large boat, by which they might endeavor to effect their escape, in case their vessel should be destroyed. This was on the thirtieth of November.

The sufferings and the hardships which these brave men encountered for many successive months, it is impossible to describe. Happily, they had a tolerable store of provisions from their ship, and had not to depend upon the precarious subsistence to be obtained by hunting. Their liquids of every kind, wine, vinegar, oil, etc., were all frozen so hard, that they were obliged to cut them with hatchets, and then melt them over the fire for use.

In the beginning of January, the whole surface of the adjacent sea was so entirely frozen, that no water whatever was to be seen. Some of the men were obliged to be out of doors a considerable part of the day, in fetching timber, and in other necessary employments. Their shoes were all destroyed, except some that had been sunk in the ship, and which were now, of course, inaccessible. They were, consequently, reduced to the necessity of binding up their feet, as well as they could, in pieces of cloth. Their noses, cheeks, and hands, were sometimes frozen in blisters, which were as white as paper; and blisters as large as walnuts rose on different parts of their skin. Their mouths became sore, and their teeth loose.

Timber was cut down, according to the direction of the captain, and the carpenter and crew worked hard at the pinnace, till nearly the end of March, when the carpenter became so weak and ill, that it was necessary to lead him to his labor.

Though they were in the midst of a wood, yet when their fuel began to fail, they had great difficulty in obtaining more. Almost all the axes had been broken in felling timber for the pinnace, and it was peculiarly requisite that care should be taken of such cutting instruments as remained, lest there should be none left for finishing it. And, in felling the timber now, the trees were so hard frozen, that it was first requisite to light large fires around such as were to be cut, in order to thaw the wood, before the axes could make any impression upon them.

During all this season of distress, Captain James and his crew never omitted to perform their religious duties. They particularly solemnized Easter day, the 26th of April, 1632; and it was on this day, whilst they were sitting round their fire, that the captain proposed to attempt, on the first opening of the warm weather, to clear the ship of ice. This was considered by some of the crew impossible; because they believed her to be filled with one solid mass of ice. The attempt, however, was resolved upon; and the question was as to the implements with which it was to be made. These were brought into review, and were only two iron bars (one of which was broken), and four broken shovels, apparently very ineffectual instruments for such a labor.

The time passed miserably and slowly on, till the 16th of May, when they had a comfortable and sunny day. Some efforts were this day made to clear the decks of snow. From this period the vessel began to occupy much of the attention of the captain and his crew. The great cabin was found to be free both from ice and water, and a fire was lighted to clear and dry it. One of the anchors, which was supposed to have been lost, they found under the ice, and recovered. The rudder, which had been torn off by the ice, they were not able to find. By the 24th of May, they had labored so hard in clearing the vessel, that they came to a cask, and could perceive that there was some water in the hold. They pierced the cask, and found it full of good beer; which was a cause of great joy to them.

Their next object was to dig through the ice on the outside of the vessel, to the holes that had been cut for the purpose of sinking her. They succeeded in this operation; and, through the lowest of these, a considerable quantity of water flowed out. The holes were then prevented from admitting any more water, by having strong boards nailed on the outside. Five days afterwards the weather became much warmer than it had been. The water in the hold of the vessel tended to thaw the ice; and, by means of pumps, it was gradually cleared. Several butts of beer, one of cider, and another of wine, were found perfectly sound and good; as well as many barrels of salt beef and pork. A considerable store of shoes and clothing were now also found. These, when dried, were peculiarly acceptable. But it was a subject of sincere rejoicing, that, on examination of the vessel, no defect could be perceived in her; and sanguine hopes began to be entertained that she might still prove capable of performing the remainder of the voyage. Not long after this, the rudder was discovered and got up from beneath the ice.

The carpenter now died. He had been a man beloved by the whole crew, and, with the most exemplary patience, had endured a long illness, in the course of which, with great exertion, he had completed all the most difficult parts of the pinnace. Thus, although he was deeply lamented by his comrades, the loss of him was not so severely felt as it might otherwise have been. At this time nearly the whole crew were disabled, by illness, from working; nor did any of them recover until after the commencement of the warm weather.

From the elevated parts of the land, the open water was first seen on the 19th of June. Four days afterwards the provisions and other articles that were on shore, were carried on board. A cross was next erected; the king’s and queen’s pictures were tied to the top of it; and the island was named Charlton Island. The rigging of the ship was now set. On the 13th, the sea was clear of ice; and on the 2d of July, after the captain and his crew had all devoutly paid thanksgiving to the Almighty for their providential deliverance, they weighed anchor, and proceeded on their voyage.

Still, however, though in the open sea, they suffered great inconvenience from the beating of the floating ice against the ship. On the 22d of July, they again passed Cape Henrietta Maria. The ship had now become so leaky, that, for some time, it was found difficult to keep her clear of water by the pumps. After almost incredible exertions, they made their way northward, according to their estimate, as far as 69 deg. 35 min., when at length they came to an impenetrable mass of ice. It was the opinion of the whole crew, that in the present condition of the ship, the autumn now fast approaching, it would not only be imprudent, but wholly impracticable, to make any further attempt to discover the hoped-for passage of the sea to the north-west. The captain, therefore, with a sorrowful heart, consented to relinquish his object; and, on the 26th of August, determined on returing to England. In his passage homeward, the vessel encountered many difficulties from contrary winds and stormy weather; but, at length, safely arrived at the mouth of the Severn, October 22, 1632.

William Dampier was born in Somersetshire, England, in the year 1652. He lost both his parents when very young, and was bound apprentice to the master of a ship at Weymouth, with whom he made a voyage to France and another to New England. In 1673, he served in the Dutch war, and was afterwards an overseer to a plantation in Jamaica. He next visited the bay of Campeachy as a logwood cutter, and, after once more visiting England, engaged in a band of Buccaneers, as they called themselves, although in reality pirates, with whom he roved on the Peruvian coasts. He next visited Virginia, and engaged in an expedition against the Spanish settlements in the South Seas. They accordingly sailed in August, 1683, and, after taking several prizes on the coasts of Peru and Chili, the party experienced various fortune but no very signal success. Dampier, wishing to obtain some knowledge of the northern coast of Mexico, joined the crew of a captain Swan, who cruised in the hopes of meeting the annual royal Mannilla ship, which, however, escaped them. Swan and Dampier were resolved to steer for the East Indies, and they accordingly sailed to the Piscadores, to Bouton island, to New Holland and to Nicobar, where Dampier and others were left ashore to recover their health. Their numbers gave them hopes of being able to navigate a canoe to Achin, in which they succeeded, after encountering a tremendous storm, which threatened them with unavoidable destruction. After making several trading voyages with a Captain Weldon, Dampier entered, as a gunner, the English factory at Bencoolen. Upon this coast he remained until 1691, when he found means to return home, and, being in want of money, sold his property in a curiously painted or tattooed Indian prince, who was shown as a curiosity, and who ultimately died of the small pox at Oxford. Dampier is next heard of as a commander, in the king’s service, of a sloop of war of twelve guns and fifty men, probably fitted out for a voyage of discovery. After experiencing a variety of adventures with a discontented crew, this vessel foundered off the Isle of Ascension, his men with difficulty reaching land. They were released from this island by an East India ship, in which Dampier came to England. He afterwards commanded a ship in the South Seas, and accompanied the expedition of Captain Woodes Rogers as pilot.

This voyage was undertaken chiefly by the merchants of Bristol, England. Captain Woodes Rogers was appointed commander in chief, and William Dampier first pilot of the expedition. They sailed from Kingroad, Bristol, on the 1st of August, 1708, their force consisting of the Duke, a ship of three hundred tons burden, thirty guns, and one hundred and seventy men, commanded by Rogers; and the Duchess of two hundred and seventy tons, twenty-six guns, and one hundred and fifty-one men, under the command of captain Courtney. They entered the harbor of Cork on the 6th of August, where they enlisted a number of seamen in the room of about forty fellows who had run away. They set sail on the 1st of September, with a very mixed crew, and on the morning of the 10th discovered a sail, to which they immediately gave chase. On coming up with her she proved to be a Swedish ship, and was permitted to proceed unmolested on her way. During the time the ship was in custody, a design had been privately formed on board the Duke, by four inferior officers, to make a prize of her; and when they found she was given up, they began to mutiny; but the boatsman, being displaced, and, with ten others, put in irons, and a severe whipping given to some of the leaders of the disturbance, all was quiet again. On the 14th, however, some of the ship’s company, headed by a daring fellow, came up to captain Rogers at the steerage-door, and demanded the boatswain out of irons. The captain gave them good words, and having taken the ringleader, as if to speak with him on the quarter-deck, had him suddenly seized by the help of the officers, and lashed by one of his own followers. On the 16th the captain released the prisoners from irons on their acknowledging their sorrow for what they had done.

On the 17th, gained sight of the peak of Teneriffe, and the next day took a Spanish bark of twenty-five tons. On the 25th of September passed the tropic, when about sixty of the crew, who had never been this course before, were ducked three times, by hoisting them up halfway the main-yard, with a rope to which they were made fast, and sousing them into the water. After visiting the Cape de Verd islands, where they took in water and provisions, the ships again set sail on the 8th of October, in the evening. On the 14th, they came within sight of Brazil, and soon after came to anchor before the island of Grande, in eleven fathoms water. While they lay here another quarrel arose on board the Duchess, and eight of the ringleaders were put in irons. On the 25th, two men deserted and made their escape into the woods; but, in the night, were so terrified by the noise made by the baboons and monkeys, that they ran back, plunged into the water, and prayed to be taken on board again.

The ships sailed out of the bay of Grande on the first of December, steering for Juan Fernandez, and on the 5th of January, encountered a violent storm, which drove such a quantity of water into the Duchess that they expected she would sink every moment. As the men were going to supper about nine o’clock at night, she shipped a sea at the poop, which beat in the bulkhead and all the cabin windows. On deck the yawl was staved in pieces and one or two of the men severely hurt. On the 17th, took an observation, by which they found they had got round Cape Horn and were to the northward of Cape Victoria. About this time the scurvy began to make great havoc among the crews. They now bore away for the island of Juan Fernandez, which appeared in sight on the last day of January. On going on shore here they discovered a man clothed in goat-skins, whose name was Alexander Selkirk. They remained at this island till the 14th of February, having fully refreshed themselves, when they weighed anchor, with a fair gale at south-east.

After taking a number of valuable prizes, on the 23d of April, captain Rogers with some of his men made a descent in boats and barks upon the town of Guyaquil, which they took with but little resistance and plundered of great quantities of money, jewels, and provisions. He then marched out of the town, and returned on board his own ship, where he was heartily greeted by those of his people whom he had left behind. They afterwards obtained a considerable sum as a ransom for the town, and bore away for the Gallapagos islands, with a strong gale at S. S. W.; discovered land on the 17th of May, but found it barren and destitute of water. Continuing on their voyage, they took several rich prizes, visited Gorgona and the Gallapagos, and sailing for the East Indies arrived at the islands of Serpana and Guam. They left the latter place on the 21st of March, and on the 25th of May, made Bouton. They sailed from this island on the 8th of June, and on the 23d of July, they hove down upon Horn Island to careen their vessels. Having supplied themselves with such necessaries as they wanted, they left Batavia on the 12th of October, and sailed for the Cape of Good Hope.

They came to anchor in the Cape harbor, on the 28th of December. The English saluted the Dutch fort with nine guns: which compliment was was returned with seven. At this place they waited for the convoy of the Dutch fleet till April, on the 5th of which month the Dutch admiral hoisted a blue flag, and loosed his fore-top-sail, as a signal to unmoor; and the next day the whole fleet sailed with a fresh breze at S. S. E. On the 23d of July they arrived in the Texel, and sailing hence with seven prizes came to the moorings in the Downs on the 2d of October, 1711.

About the beginning of the year 1718, some English merchants, foreseeing war between England and Spain, resolved to fit out two ships for the South Seas. Two ships were accordingly provided, one called the Success, the other the Speedwell. The command of the former was given to captain Clipperton, and captain Shelvock was appointed to command the latter. They sailed from Plymouth on the 13th of February 1719, with a fair wind; but the whole stock of wine, brandy and other liquors, for the use of both ships, was still on board the Speedwell. On the 15th, had squally weather with rain; in the evening, unbent the best and small bowers in the Success, stowed their anchors, and found themselves often obliged to shorten sail for the Speedwell. Captain Shelvock came this day under the lee of the Success, and complained to Clipperton of the crankness of his ship, which proceeded from having too much weight aloft; and, therefore, desired him to send for his wine and brandy, which would give him an opportunity of striking down some of his guns into the hold. This was never done.

About ten o’clock at night, on the 19th, there arose a fresh breeze, so as to oblige both ships to take in their topsails. The gale increasing, the Success made a signal for the Speedwell to bring to, and by seven o’clock both ships were under bare poles, nor able to bear a rag of canvass during the night. On the 20th, the storm abated, when Clipperton made sail, steering S. by E., whereas Shelvock stood away to the N. W., so that from this day they never saw each other till they met by accident in the South Seas.

The Canaries being the first place appointed for a rendezvous, Clipperton sailed thither with such expedition as to arrive on the 5th of March. After waiting ten days he determined to continue his voyage, lest he should miss his consort at the next place of rendezvous, which was the Cape de Verd Islands. On the 21st, they saw St. Vincent, and next morning anchored in the bay. They remained here ten days, but not meeting with their consort, proceeded on their voyage.

On the 29th of May, found themselves off the north point of the entrance of the straits of Magellan, and the next day entered the straits. They arrived in the South Seas on the 18th of August, and on the 7th of September cast anchor off the island of Juan Fernandez. They left this island on the 8th of October, leaving behind two deserters whom they had not been able to find. After taking a number of valuable prizes; the Success bore away for the Gallapagos, in order to refresh; and anchored in York Road on the 9th of January 1720. On the 11th of August anchored with a prize they had taken, at the island of Lobos de la Mar. While here a conspiracy among the crew was discovered and punished.

On the 1st of November, sailed for the Bay of Conception; and in the passage took a ship, laden with tobacco, sugar and cloth. They made the Bay on the 6th in the afternoon, where they saw three men-of-war lying, with their topsails loose, who no sooner discovered them than they cut their cables, and stood in chase. At this time Captain Clipperton had one prize with him, which, as well as the Success, hauled close upon a wind; on which the best sailor among the Spanish men-of-war, gave chase to the prize, which she soon came up with and took. The other ships crowded all the sail they could for some time, till the largest, having her mizen-top-mast carried away, fired a gun, tacked, and stood in for the shore, which gave the Success an opportunity of making her escape. In the Spanish prize Clipperton lost his third lieutenant, and twelve of his men.

They continued cruising to the northward, and on the 4th of December found themselves very near the Gallapagos. On the 17th saw the island of Cocos, and most of the crew went on shore. On the 19th of January, 1721, sailed from this place, and on the 25th arrived on the coast of Mexico, where, discovering a sail, they sent their pinnace to give chase, to whom he struck. On the return of the pinnace they had the surprising account that this was a Spanish ship called the Jesu Maria, now commanded by Captain Shelvock, who had lost his ship and most of his men, and taken this prize. These ships again parted, and on the 31st of May, Clipperton anchored in the road of Guam. On the 5th of July entered the port of Amoy, where the crew demanded that the prize money should be shared. Clipperton not complying, they applied to the chief mandarin of the place, requesting that he would do them justice against the captain. Clipperton was therefore summoned before him; and on the mandarin’s demanding a reason why he refused to comply with the desires of the crew, he produced the articles, by which it appeared that the prize-money was not to be shared till their return to London. The mandarin decided that the shares should be settled, and this distribution was accordingly made on the 16th of September; £7,000 being set aside as belonging to the owners. This sum was immediately put on board a Portuguese East Indiaman, which ship was afterwards burnt, and the greater part of the money lost.

Clipperton afterwards took passage for England in a Dutch ship, and arrived there bankrupt in health and fortune, after a long and disastrous voyage.

The expedition under Commodore Anson was fitted out by the English government in the year 1740, to attack the Spanish settlements in America. The squadron consisted of six vessels of war, and two victuallers. These were the

Ships.	Commanders.	Guns.	Men.
Centurion	George Anson	60	400
Gloucester	Richard Norris	50	300
Severn	Edward Legge	50	300
Pearl	Matt. Mitchell	40	250
Wager	Dandy Kidd	28	160
Trial Sloop	John Murray	8	100

On the 18th of September, 1740, the squadron weighed from St. Helens, and reached Madeira the 25th of October. Having sailed hence, they discovered the land of Brazil, on the 16th of December, and on the evening of the 19th cast anchor at the island of St. Catherines. Having repaired their vessels, they quitted this place on the 18th of January, and on the same day of the following month came to anchor in the Bay of St. Julian. The squadron again stood to sea on the 28th of February, when the Gloucester not being able to purchase her anchor, was obliged to cut her cable, and leave her best bower behind. Having reached the southern extremity of the straits of Le Maire, the wind shifted and blew in violent squalls, and the tide turned furiously against them, driving to the eastward with such rapidity, that the two sternmost vessels, the Wager and the Anna Pink, with the utmost difficulty escaped being dashed in pieces on the shore of Staten Island.

For above three months they struggled with severe gales and terrific waves, and on the 1st of April, the weather, after having been a little more moderate, returned to its former violence; the sky looked dark and gloomy, and the wind began to freshen and blow in squalls; and there were all the appearances of an approaching tempest. Accordingly, on the 3d, there came on a storm, which exceeded in violence and duration all they had hitherto encountered. On the 14th in the morning the weather clearing up a little and the moon shining out on a sudden, the Anna Pink made a signal for seeing land right a-head; and it being then only two miles distant, they were under great apprehensions of running on shore; and had not the wind suddenly shifted, or the moon shone out, every ship must have perished. They found this land, to their disappointment, to be Cape Noir, though they imagined they were ten degrees more to the west. On the evening of the 24th of April, the wind increased to a prodigious storm, and, about midnight, the weather became so thick that the whole squadron separated, nor met again till they reached the island of Juan Fernandez. To add to their misfortunes, the scurvy began to make such havoc, that on board the Centurion only, it carried off forty-three men in the month of April, and twice that number in May.

On the 22d of May the Centurion encountered the severest storm it had yet experienced. Almost all the sails were split; the rigging was destroyed, and a mountainous wave breaking over them on the starboard quarter, gave the vessel such a shock, that several of the shrouds were broke, and the ballast and stores so strangely shifted, that she lay on her larboard side. The wind at length abating a little, they began to exert themselves to stirrup the shrouds, reeve new lanyards, and mend the sails; during which they ran great risk of being driven on the island of Chiloe. After many difficulties they at length reached the island of Juan Fernandez, in a most desponding condition. Here many of the crew died of weariness and disease.

A few days after the Centurion had arrived, the Trial Sloop appeared in sight, and on the 21st of June the Gloucester was discovered to leeward. The Anna Pink arrived about the middle of August, which, with the Trial and Gloucester, mentioned above, were the only vessels that ever joined the squadron; for the Severn and Pearl, having parted from the commodore off Cape Horn, with difficulty reached Brazil, whence they made the best of their way back to Europe, while the Wager was wrecked on the coast. The Anna Pink being judged unlit for service, was taken for the use of the squadron, and her men were sent on board the Gloucester.

About eleven in the morning of the 8th of September, they discovered a sail; when the Centurion, being in the greatest forwardness, made after her as fast as possible. Night coming on they lost sight of the chase. About three in the morning of the 12th, a brisk gale springing up at W. S. W. obliged them to lie upon a N. W. tack, which at break of day, brought them within sight of a sail, at about five leagues distant. She appeared to be a large vessel, and upon hoisting Spanish colors, and bearing towards the Centurion, the commodore ordered everything ready for an engagement; but upon coming nearer, she appeared to be a merchantman, without a single tier of guns, and had mistaken the Centurion for her consort. She soon surrendered, and was found to be a valuable prize.

It appearing from letters on board the prize, that several other merchantmen were at sea, between Callao and Valparaiso, the commodore sent the Trial sloop, to cruise off the latter port; and ordered the Gloucester to cruise off the island of Paita, till she should be joined by the Centurion. The Centurion and her prize weighing from the bay of Juan Fernandez, on the 19th of September, took her course to the eastward, proposing to join the Trial off Valparaiso.

On the 24th, in the evening, they came up with the latter, having taken a prize of six hundred tons burden, laden with a rich cargo. On the 27th, the captain of the Trial came on board the Centurion, bringing with him an instrument, subscribed by himself and all his officers, setting forth that the vessel was so leaky and defective, that it was at the hazard of their lives they staid on board; upon which, the commodore having ordered the crew and every thing of value to be put on board the prize, the Trial was scuttled and sunk. It was now resolved to join the Gloucester off Paita. With this view they stood to the northward, and, on the 10th of November discovered a sail, which Lieutenant Brett was ordered to chase, with the Trial’s pinnace and barge. They found her to be a Spanish vessel of two hundred and seventy tons burden. From the prisoners they learned that, a few days before, a vessel had entered Paita, the master of which told the governor he had been chased by a very large ship, which he imagined to be one of the English squadron, and that the governor had immediately sent an express to Lima, to carry the news to the viceroy, while the royal officer residing at Paita had been busily employed in removing both the king’s treasure and his own to Piuza, a town fourteen leagues within land. It was at once conjectured that the ship which had chased the vessel into Paita was the Gloucester; and, as they were now discovered, and the coast would soon be alarmed, so as to prevent cruising to any advantage, the commodore resolved to endeavor to surprise the place that very night.

When the ships were within five leagues of Paita, about ten o’clock at night, Lieutenant Brett, with the boats under his command, put off, and arrived without being discovered, at the mouth of the bay; though he had no sooner entered it, than some of the people on board a vessel riding at anchor there, perceived him, and immediately getting into their boat, rowed towards the shore, crying out ‘the English, the English dogs,’ etc., by which the town was alarmed and the attack discovered. The town was, however, taken in less than a quarter of an hour from the first landing of the boats; with the loss of one man killed and two wounded.

They weighed anchor from the coast of Paita on the 16th of November, the squadron being increased to six sail by the prizes. On the morning of the 18th, they discovered the Gloucester with a small vessel in tow, which joined them about three in the afternoon, when they learned that captain Mitchell had taken two prizes, one of which had a cargo consisting of wine, brandy and olives, and about seven thousand pounds in specie; and the other was a launch, the people on board which, when taken, were eating their dinner from silver dishes. Notwithstanding this circumstance, the prisoners alleged that they were very poor: having nothing on board, but cotton made up in jars, which, being removed on board the Gloucester, were examined, when the whole appeared to be an extraordinary piece of false package; there being concealed among the cotton, doubloons and dollars, to the amount of twelve thousand pounds.

The cargo and crews of the several vessels were afterwards divided between the Centurion and Gloucester. Quitting the coast of America, they stood for China, the 6th of May, 1742. The Gloucester, which had become decayed, was cleared of every thing by the 15th of August, and then set on fire. On the 27th they arrived at the island of Tinian, where they remained some time. On the night of the 22d of September, when it was excessively dark, the wind blew from the eastward with such fury, that those on board despaired of riding out the storm. At this time Mr. Anson was ill of the scurvy, and most of the hands were on shore, and all the hopes of safety of those on board seemed to depend on immediately putting to sea; all communication between the ship and the island being destroyed.

About one o’clock a strong gust, attended with rain and lightning, drove them to sea, where, being unprepared to struggle with the fury of winds and waves, they expected each moment to be their last. When at daybreak, it was perceived by those on shore that the ship was missing, they concluded her lost, and many of them begged the commodore to send the boat round the island to look for the wreck. In the midst of their gloomy reflections, the commodore formed a plan for extricating them from their present situation; which was by hauling the Spanish barque on shore, sawing her asunder, and lengthening her twelve feet; which would enlarge her to near forty tons burden, and enable her to carry them all to China.

But a discouraging circumstance now occurred, which was, that they had neither compass nor quadrant on the island. At length, on rummaging a chest belonging to the Spanish bark, they found a small compass, which though not much superior to those made for the amusement of school-boys, was to them of the utmost importance.

When this obstacle was removed, and all things ready for sailing, it happened on the afternoon of the 11th of October, that one of the Gloucester’s men being upon a hill, saw the Centurion at a distance. She was soon visible to all, and the next day cast anchor in the road. On the 14th, a sudden gust of wind drove her to sea a second time, but in about five days, they returned again to anchor. On the 20th of October, they set fire to the bark and proa, hoisted in their boats, and got under sail, steering away towards the south end of the island of Macao.

About midnight, on the 5th of November, they made the mainland of China, and on the morning of the 9th, a Chinese pilot came on board, and told them that he would carry the ship into Macao for thirty dollars, which being paid him they proceeded, and on the 12th entered the harbor of Macao.

On the 6th of April the Centurion again stood out to sea. On the last day of May they came in sight of Cape Espiritu Santo, where they continued to cruize till the 20th of June, when about sunrise the great Manilla ship came in sight, having the standard of Spain flying at the top-gallant-mast head, and to the commodore’s surprise, bore down upon him. The engagement soon began, and lasted an hour and a half, when the galleon struck to the Centurion, after having sixty-seven men killed and eighty-four wounded. The Centurion had only two men killed and seventeen wounded. The prize carried five hundred men and thirty-six guns, and her cargo was worth £400,000 sterling. It is impossible to describe the transports on board, when, after all their reiterated disappointments, they at length saw their wishes accomplished. But their joy was very near being suddenly damped by a very alarming accident; for no sooner had the galleon struck, than one of the lieutenants coming to Mr. Anson, whispered him, that the Centurion was dangerously on fire near the powder-room. The commodore received this shocking intelligence without any apparent emotion, and taking care not to alarm his people, gave the necessary orders for extinguishing the fire, which was done, though its first appearance threatened the ship with destruction.

On the 14th, the Centurion cast anchor off Bocca Tigris, forming the mouth of that river: and having got under sail on the 16th of October, 1743, came to anchor in the straits of Sunda on the 3d of January, and continued there till the 8th, taking in wood and water, when she weighed and stood for the Cape of Good Hope, where, on the 11th of March, she came to anchor in Table Bay. Mr. Anson continued here till the 3d of April, 1744, when he put to sea, and on the 19th of the month, was in sight of St. Helena, but did not touch at it.

On the 12th of June they got in sight of the Lizard, and on the evening of the 15th, to their great joy, came safe to anchor at Spithead. On his arrival Mr. Anson learned, that under cover of a thick fog, he had run through a French fleet, which was at that time cruizing in the chops of the channel.

In the year 1764, the Dolphin and Tamar, English ships-of-war, were fitted out for the purpose of prosecuting discoveries in the South Seas. Byron was commander-in-chief, and Captain Mouat commander under him.

On the 3d of July, the commodore hoisted his broad-pendant, and they sailed in prosecution of the voyage. On the 13th of September they came to an anchor in the road of Rio de Janeiro, on the coast of Brazil, when the commodore paid a visit to the governor, who received him in state. They weighed anchor on the 16th of October, steering for Cape Blanco, and on the 21st of November, entered the harbor of Port Desire, and the commodore in his boat, attended by two other boats, went to sound it. He landed, and they had a sight of four beasts, near thirteen hands high, and in shape like a deer, which they took to be granicoes.

On the 5th of December the ships got under sail, and on the 20th, ran close in-shore to Cape Virgin Mary, and came to an anchor. The commodore observed a number of men on horseback, riding to and fro, opposite the ship, and waving something white, which he took to be an ivitation to land; and as he was anxious to know what people these were, he went in one boat with a party of men well armed; the first lieutenant, with a separate party, following in another. When they came near the shore, the whole appeared to amount to five hundred persons, drawn up on a stony point of land that ran far into the sea. Byron now advanced alone, but as he approached, the Indians retreated: he therefore made signs that one of them should come forward, which was complied with. The one who advanced appeared to be chief, and was over six feet in height; round one of his eyes was a circle of black paint, and a white circle round the other; the rest of his face was painted in streaks of various colors. He had the skin of a beast, with the hair inwards, thrown over his shoulders. The commodore and the Indian having complimented each other, in language equally unintelligible to either, they walked together towards the main body of the Indians, few of whom were shorter than the height abovementioned, and the women were large in proportion.

On the 21st of December they began sailing up the Strait of Magellan, with a view to take in a stock of wood and water. On the 26th, came to anchor at Port Famine. In this place, they found drift-wood enough to have supplied a thousand vessels. The quantity of fish that was daily taken was equal to the supply of both the crews: and the commodore shot as many geese and ducks as furnished several tables besides his own. On the 4th of January 1765, they sailed in search of Falkland’s Islands.

On the 12th they saw land, and on the 14th a flat island, covered with tufts of grass as large as bushes. Soon after this they entered another harbor, to which Byron gave the name of Port Egmont. This harbor is represented to be the finest in the world, and capacious enough to contain the whole navy of England, in full security; there is plenty of fresh water in every part of it, and geese, ducks, snipes, and other edible birds, abound in such numbers, that the sailors were tired with eating them. The commodore was once unexpectedly attacked by a sea-lion, and extricated himself from the impending danger with great difficulty; they had many battles with this animal, the killing of one of which was frequently an hour’s work for six men; one of them almost tore to pieces the commodore’s mastiff-dog, by a single bite. The commodore took possession of the harbor, and the adjacent islands, by the name of Falkland’s Islands.

On Sunday, January the 27th, they left Port Egmont. Next day the commodore gave the name of Berkley’s Sound to a deep inlet between the islands. On the 6th of February stood in for Port Desire at the mouth of which they came to anchor, and had the pleasure of seeing the Florida, a store-ship, which they had expected from England. On the 20th, at Port Famine, received orders to sail for England.

Having narrowly escaped the dreadful effects of a storm on the 3d of March, at length the Dolphin was moored in a little bay opposite Cape Quod; and the Tamar about six miles to the eastward of it. On the 28th the Tamar narrowly escaped being dashed to pieces against the rocks, by the parting of the cables to her best bower-anchor. The Dolphin, therefore, stood out again into the bay, and sent her proper assistance, after which they both anchored for the night; a night the most dreadful they had known. The winds were so violent as perfectly to tear up the sea, and carry it higher than the heads of the masts: a dreadful sea rolled over them, and broke against the rocks, with a noise as loud as thunder. Happily they did not part their cables, or they must have been dashed in pieces against these rocks.

The ships came to anchor on the 4th of April, in a bay which had been discovered, proposing to take in wood and water. While they were here, several of the natives made a fire opposite the ship, on which signals were made for them to come on board; but as they would not, the commodore went on shore, and distributed some trifles which gave great pleasure. Four were at length prevailed on to go on board; and the commodore, with a view to their diversion, directed one of the midshipmen to play on the violin, while some of the seamen danced. The poor Indians were extravagantly delighted; and one of them to testify his gratitude, took his canoe, and fetching some red paint, rubbed it over the face of the musician; nor could the commodore, but with the utmost difficulty, escape the like compliment.

They sailed from this bay on the 7th, and next day the wind blew a hurricane. On the 9th, passed some dangerous rocks, which in Narborough’s Voyage are called the Judges. This day a steady gale at the southwest carried them at the rate of nine miles an hour, so that by eight in the evening they were twenty leagues from the coast. On the 26th, they sailed westward, and bore away for the island of Massafuero and anchored at seven o’clock on Sunday morning.

On the 30th of April they sailed, and on the 7th of June discovered land, being then in 14 deg. 5 min. south latitude, and 144 deg. 58 min. west longitude. The commodore steered for a small island, the appearance of which was pleasing beyond expression. Several natives ran along the beach, with long spears in their hands. The sailors made every possible sign of friendship—​but they retired to the woods, dragging their canoes after them. The commodore proceeded to the other island, and brought to, at three-quarters of a mile from the shore. The natives again ran to the beach, armed with clubs and spears, using threatening gestures. The commodore fired a cannon-shot over their heads, on which they retreated to the woods. This paradise in appearance, was named the Island of Disappointment.

Quitting these on the 8th of June, they discovered an island on the day following, low, and covered with various kinds of trees, among which was the cocoa-nut, and surrounded with a rock of red coral. They now sailed to the westward, and soon discovered another island, distant four leagues. The natives pursued them in two large double canoes, in each of which were about thirty armed men. At this time the boats were at a considerable way to leeward of the ships, and were chased by the canoes; on which the commodore making a signal, the boats turned towards the Indians, who instantly pulled down their sails, and rowed away with great rapidity. On the 12th of June, sailed to another island, and as they coasted along it, the natives, armed as those of the other islands, kept even with the ship for some leagues. This island is situated in 14 deg. 41 min. S. latitude, and 149 deg. 15 min. W. longitude; and both the islands the commodore called King George’s Islands. The boats having returned on board, they sailed westward the same day; and the next afternoon descried another island, towards which they immediately sailed, and found that it was well inhabited, and had a fine appearance of verdure; but that a violent surf broke all along the coast. It lies in 15 deg. south latitude, and 161 deg. 53 min. west longitude, and received the name of the Prince of Wales’ Island.

On the 24th they discovered another island, which was named the Duke of York’s Island. A terrible sea breaks round the coast, but the place itself had a pleasing appearance. On the 29th sailed northward, with a view to cross the equinoctial line, and then sail for the Ladrone Islands. On the 2d of July they discovered a low flat island, abounding with the cocoa-nut and other trees, and affording a most agreeable prospect. A great number of natives were seen on the beach, many of whom, in about sixty canoes or proas, sailed, and formed a circle round the ships; which having surveyed for a considerable time, one of the Indians jumped out of his boat, swam to the ship, ran up its side in a moment, sat down on the deck, and began laughing most violently: he then ran about the ship, pilfering whatever he could lay hands on, which was taken from him as fast as stolen. This man having as many antic tricks as a monkey, was dressed in a jacket and trousers, and afforded exquisite diversion. He devoured some biscuit with great eagerness, and having played the buffoon for some time, made prize of his new dress, by jumping over the side of the ship, and swimming to his companions. These Indians are of a bright copper, with regular and cheerful features, and are tall and well made. One of them, who seemed to be one of some rank, wore a string of human teeth round his waist. Some carried a long spear, the sides of which, for the length of three feet, were stuck with the teeth of the shark, which are as keen as a razor. The officers named this place Byron’s island, in honor of the commodore. It lies in 1 deg. 18 min. S. latitude, and 173 deg. 46 min. E. longitude. They sailed hence on the 3d of July, and on the 28th had sight of the islands Saypan, Tinian, and Aiguigan, which lie between two and three leagues from each other. At noon, on the 31st, anchored at the south-west end of Tinian. The water is so wonderfully clear at this place, that, though one hundred and forty-four feet deep, they could see the bottom. The commodore went on shore, where he saw many huts, which had been left the preceding year by the Spaniards. The commodore remained at Tinian till the 30th of September, by which time the sick being tolerably well recovered, he weighed anchor and stood to the northward.

On the 5th of November they came to an anchor off the island of Timoan, on which Byron landed the day following. The inhabitants, who are Malays, no sooner saw the boat approaching the shore, than many of them came to the beach, each having a dagger by his side, a spear in one hand, and a long knife in the other. The boat’s crew, however, made no hesitation to land, and bartered a few handkerchiefs for a goat, a kid, and a dozen of fowls.

Nothing worth notice happened till the 14th, when a sloop being seen at anchor in the harbor of an island, named Pulo Toupoa, Byron having anchored in the same harbor, and observed that the vessel hoisted Dutch colors, sent an officer on board, who was received with great politeness. The commodore sailed the following day, and held his course till the 19th, when he spoke with an English snow, bound from Bencoolen to Malacca and Bengal, in the East India Company’s service. At this time their biscuit was filled with worms, and rotten, and their beef and pork were unfit to eat. The master of the snow being apprized of the circumstance, sent Byron two gallons of arrack, a turtle, twelve fowls and a sheep. During their run hence to Prince’s Island, in the strait of Sunda, they were so abundantly supplied with turtle, by boats from the Java shore, that the common sailors subsisted wholly on that fish. They staid at Prince’s Island till the 19th, when they sailed for the Cape of Good Hope. On the 13th of February they came to anchor, and were treated with great politeness by the governor.

They sailed on the 7th of March, and, on the 25th, crossed the equinoctial line. About this time an accident happening to the rudder of the Tamar, and it being impossible to make a perfect repair of it at sea, the captain was ordered to bear away for Antigua; in consequence of which they parted company on the 1st of April; and the Dolphin, without meeting with any other material occurrence, came to an anchor in the Downs, on the 9th of May, 1766, after having been little more than twenty-two months in the circumnavigation of the globe.

In 1766, Capt. Wallis, of London, having been appointed to command the ship Dolphin, destined for a voyage round the world, received orders to take under his command the Swallow sloop, and Prince Frederick store-ship. They sailed on the 22d of August, and, on the 7th of September, came to anchor in the road of Maderia.

On the 12th, they sailed thence, and by the 12th of November, were in 30 degrees of south latitude, when they found the weather so cold as to have recourse to their thick jackets. On the 16th of December, being very near Cape Virgin Mary, they saw several men riding on the shore. The captain went ashore, and gave them combs, buttons, knives, scissors, beads, etc., and pleased the women greatly by the distribution of some ribbons. The tallest among these people was six feet seven inches; but the general height was from five feet ten to six feet. They were muscular and well made, but their hands and feet very small, in proportion to the rest of their bodies. The captain took eight of them into the boats: when they came into the ship, they expressed no surprise at the novelties which they beheld, till a looking-glass being observed, they acted many antic gestures before it. The marines being exercised before them, they were terrified at the firing of the muskets, and one of them falling down, shut his eyes, and lay without motion, as if to intimate that he knew the destructive nature of these weapons.

On the 21st, they turned into the Strait of Magellan, and on the 26th, anchored in Port Famine Bay; and the sick were sent on shore. On the 28th, the empty water-casks were landed. When they arrived here, many of the people were very sick with the scurvy; but, by the plentiful use of vegetables, and bathing in the sea, they all recovered in a short time.

They sailed on the 18th, and on the 3d of February came to anchor in York Road. The next day, Captain Wallis, with a party, went on shore near Bachelor’s River. There is a cataract near this river, the noise of which is tremendous, as it falls more than four hundred yards, partly over a very steep descent, and partly in a perpendicular line. On the 1st of March sailed again, and anchored in a place called Swallow harbor, whence they sailed the next morning; and, on the following day, the Swallow, being driven among breakers, made signals of distress; but was happily relieved by a breeze from the shore. On the 10th of April the two ships sailed in company; and, on the 11th, lost sight of each other, and did not meet again during the whole voyage.

This day the Dolphin cleared the Strait of Magellan, in which she had labored with innumerable difficulties, and escaped most imminent dangers, in a passage of almost four months, viz: from December the 17th, 1776, to the 11th of April following. The Spaniards, it seems, built a town here in 1581, which they named Phillipville, and left in it a colony of four hundred persons. They were all starved to death except twenty-four; and the place was called Port Famine, from the melancholy fate of these unfortunate men.

The long wished for relief was now fast approaching, for on Saturday, the 6th, the man at the mast-head cried, ‘Land in the west-north-west.’ As no anchorage was to be found, the captain steered for the other island, giving the name of Whitsun Island to this, because it was discovered on the eve of Whitsunday. Having approached the second, the lieutenant was sent on shore, with two boats, to take possession of the island and to call it Queen Charlotte’s Island. The boats returned loaded with cocoa-nuts and scurvy-grass, after having found two wells of excellent water. Provisions for a week were now allotted for an officer and twenty men, who were left on shore to take in water; the sick were landed for the benefit of the air; and a number of hands were appointed to climb the cocoa-trees, and gather the nuts.

An adjoining island, lying in nineteen degrees twenty minutes south latitude, and one hundred thirty-eight degrees thirty minutes west longitude, received the name of Egmont Island. On the 11th, they observed about sixteen persons on an island, which was called Gloucester Island. This day they likewise discovered another, which was called Cumberland Island; and on the day following, a third, which received the name of Prince William Henry’s Island. On the 17th, again discovered land, but could find no place in which the ship might anchor. This was named Osnaburgh Island, and having soon discovered high land, they came to anchor because the weather was foggy; but it no sooner cleared away, than they found the ship encompassed by hundreds of people. They sailed along the shore, while the canoes made towards the land. On the 21st, the ship came to anchor.

The boats having been sent to sound along the coast, were followed by large double canoes, three of which ran at the cutter, staved in her quarter, and otherwise damaged her; the Indians, at the same time, armed with clubs, endeavoring to board her. The crew now fired; and wounding one man dangerously, and killing another, they both fell into the sea. The ship made sail the following day, and was piloted round a reef, into a harbor, where she was moored. On the 24th, she sailed further up the harbor, followed by many canoes. In the evening, a number of very large canoes advanced, laden with stones; on which the captain ordered the strictest watch to be kept. Soon after a large canoe advanced, in which was an awning, on the top of which sat one of the natives, holding some yellow and red feathers in his hand. He delivered the feathers; and, while a present was preparing, he put back from the ship, and threw the branch of a cocoa-nut tree in the air. This appeared the signal for an onset, for the canoes, approaching the ship, threw volleys of stones into every part of her. On this two guns, loaded with small shot, were fired, and the people on guard discharged their muskets. The number of Indians now round the ships was full two thousand; and though they were at first disconcerted, they soon recovered their spirits, and renewed the attack. Thousands were observed on shore, embarking as fast as the canoes could bring them off; orders were therefore given for firing the cannon, some of which were brought to bear upon the shore. The scattered canoes soon got together again, and threw stones of two pounds weight from slings by which a number of seamen were wounded. At this time several canoes approached the bow of the ship, in one of which was an Indian, who appeared to have an authority over the rest; a gun was therefore leveled at his canoe, the shot of which split it in two pieces, which put an end to the contest; the canoes rowed off with the utmost speed, and the people on shore ran and concealed themselves behind the hills. Next day a lieutenant was despatched, with all the boats manned and armed, and having hoisted a pennant on a staff, he took possession of the place by the name of King George the Third’s Island.

Three days after this, the gunner conducted to the ship a lady of a portly figure and agreeable face, whose age seemed to be upwards of forty. Her whole behavior indicated the woman of superior rank. The captain presented her with a looking-glass and some toys, and gave her a handsome blue mantle, which he tied round her with ribbands. Having intimated that she would be glad to see the Captain on shore, on Sunday, the 12th, he landed, and was met by his fair friend, who was attended by a numerous retinue. As they advanced, great numbers of Indians crowded to meet them. Many advanced to meet her, whom she caused to kiss the captain’s hand, while she signified that they were related to her. Her house was above three hundred and twenty feet in length, and about forty in breadth. The captain, lieutenant, and purser, who had been ill, being seated, the lady helped four of her female attendants to pull of their coats, shoes and stockings; which being performed, the girls smoothed down the skin, and rubbed it lightly with their hands for more than half an hour; and the gentleman received great benefit from the operation. Orders had been given that the captain should be carried; but as he chose to walk, she took hold of his arm, and when they came near any wet or dirty place, she lifted him over, with as much ease as a man would a child. On the 15th, a large party in all the boats rowed round the island. The island was found to be every where very pleasant, and to abound with various necessaries of life. On the 17th, Captain Wallis received another visit from the lady whom he called his queen. On the 21st, she repeated the visit, and presented him with some hogs. The captain having sent a party on shore on the 25th, to examine the country minutely, caused a tent to be erected to observe an eclipse of the sun, and when it was ended, took his telescope to the queen’s house to show her the use of it; and her surprise is not to be expressed, on beholding several objects which she was very familiar with, but which were too distant to be seen by the naked eye. She made signs to be informed if he held his resolution as to the time of his departure, and being answered in the affirmative, her tears witnessed the agitation of her mind. The captain presented her with several articles of use and ornament, which she received in silent sorrow. After some time a breeze springing up, the queen and her attendants took their final leave, with many tears.

The place where the ship had lain was called Port Royal Harbor, and is situated in 17 degrees 30 minutes south latitude, and 150 degrees west longitude. The Dolphin sailed from Otaheite on the 27th of July, 1767, and passed the Duke of York’s Island. On the 28th, they discovered land, which was called Sir Charles Saunder’s Island. On the 30th again made land, which received the name of Lord How’s Island, on which smoke was seen, but no inhabitants. Their next discovery was some dangerous shoals, to which Captain Wallis gave the name of the Scilla Islands. They now steered westward till the 13th of August, when they saw two small islands, one of which was named Keppel’s Isle, and the other Boscawen’s Island. On the 16th they again discovered land, to which the officers gave the name of Wallis’ Island.

On the 18th of September they discovered the island of Saypan, and soon afterwards that of Tinian, off which they anchored on the day following. Tents were erected for the sick, who were sent on shore with all expedition. By the 15th of October the fruit and water were carried on board, and all the sick being recovered, on the next day they left the bay, and sailed to the west.

On the 3d of November they discovered three islands, which were named Sandy Isle, Small Key, and Long Island; which islands are in 19 degrees 20 minutes north latitude, and 247 degrees 20 minutes west longitude. They now altered their course, and, on the 13th, saw the island of Timoun, Aros, and Pesang. On the 16th they crossed the equinoctial line, and came again into south latitude. The next day they saw the islands of Pulo Totè, and Pulo Weste, and the Seven Islands. On the 22d saw the coast of Sumatra; and came to an anchor in the road of Batavia, on the 30th of November, 1767. From this place they sailed on the 8th of December, without losing a single man, and having only two on the sick list.

On the 24th of January they encountered a dreadful storm, which tore the sails to pieces, broke a rudder-chain, and carried several of the booms overboard; yet during this storm they observed a number of birds and butterflies. On the 30th they saw land; and came to anchor in Table Bay, at the Cape of Good Hope, on the 4th of February. Sailed on the 17th of March, anchored in the bay of St. Helena. On the 28th crossed the equinoctial line, and on the 24th of next month saw the Cape of Pico.

No material incident happened from this time to the end of the voyage; and on the 20th of May, 1768, the Dolphin came to anchor in the Downs.

A settlement having been commenced by the French on Falkland’s Islands, in the month of February, 1764, the Spaniards demanded them as an appendage to the continent of South America; and France having allowed the propriety of the demand, Mons. de Bougainville was ordered to yield possession of the islands to the Spaniards.

On the 5th of December he sailed from the harbor of Brest, in the frigate La Boudeuse, having on board the Prince of Nassau Seighen, three gentlemen who went as volunteers, eleven officers in commission, and warrant-officers, seamen, soldiers, servants and boys to the number of two hundred. On the evening of the 29th of January, they had sight of Rio-de-la-Plata, and on the morning of the 31st came to anchor in the Bay of Montevideo, where the two Spanish ships, which were to take possession of Falkland Islands, had been at anchor for some weeks. They sailed with these ships on the 28th of February, 1767; and on the 1st of April Bougainville, in the name of the French king, surrendered the islands to Don Puente, the Spanish governor, who received them for his most Catholic majesty, with the ceremony of hoisting the Spanish colors, and the firing of guns from the ships and on shore.

Falkland Islands lie in about 52 degrees south latitude, and 60 degrees west longitude. From the entrance of the Straits of Magellan, and from the coast of Patagonia, their distance is about 250 miles. The harbors are large, and well defended by small islands most happily disposed; and even the smallest vessels may ride in safety in the creeks, while fresh water is easily to be obtained. After waiting at these islands till the 2d of June, 1767, in expectation of the Etoile store-ship from Europe, Bougainville steered for Rio Janeiro, at which place he had appointed the Etoile to join him. They had fine weather from the 2d to the 20th of June, on which day they had sight of the mountains on the main land of Brazil, and entered Rio Janeiro the day following. At the same time a canoe was despatched from the captain of the Etoile, with information of the safe arrival of that vessel, which now lay in the port; and on the 14th of July, both vessels sailed, and on the 31st came to anchor in the Bay of Montevideo. As it was necessary that Bougainville should remain in his present station till the equinox was passed, his first care was to build a hospital for the sick, and to take lodgings at Montevideo.

On the 14th of November, 1767, they sailed from Montevideo, with a fine gale of wind at north. On the 16th, and the five following days, the sea ran high, and the wind was contrary. The 2d of December they had sight of Cape Virgins, with a fair wind. They now saw a number of albatrosses and petrels, the last of which are said to be a sign of bad weather whenever they are seen. They made their best efforts to reach the entrance of the Straits of Magellan; and Bougainville was seven weeks and three days in passing through it, the whole length of which, from Cape Virgin Mary to Cape Pillar, he computes at about 340 miles.

On the 22d of March, land was discovered, and when they had coasted one of the islands for about two miles, they had sight of three men, who advanced hastily towards the shore. They at first imagined that these were part of the crew of some European ship which had been wrecked on the coast, but discovered their conjecture ill-founded, for the people retired to the woods, from which, in a short time, issued a number of them, supposed to be near twenty, with long staves in their hands, which they held up with an air of defiance. This done, they retreated to the woods. These islanders were of a copper complexion and very tall.

During the night between the 22d and 23d they had much rain, accompanied with violent thunder, while the wind blew almost a tempest. At day-break land was discovered, which was called Harp Island, and in the evening a cluster of islands, eleven of which were seen, received the name of the Dangerous Archipelago. A steep mountain, which appeared to be encompassed by the sea, was discovered on the 2d of April, and received the name of Boudoir, or Boudeuse Peak, from Bougainville’s ship. Bearing to the northward of this peak they had sight of land, which extended farther than the eye could reach.

As Bougainville coasted the island, he was charmed with the appearance of a noble cascade, which, falling immediately from the summit of a mountain into the sea, produced a most elegant effect. On the shores very near to the fall of this cascade, was a little town, and the coast appeared to be free from breakers. It was the wish of our adventurers to have cast their anchor within view of such an enchanting prospect; but, after repeated soundings, they found that the bottom consisted only of rocks, and they were, therefore, under a necessity of seeking another anchoring place, where the ships were safely moored.

They remained at Otaheite until the 16th of April, when they departed, and in the beginning of May three islands were discovered. On the following day another island was seen to the westward of the ship’s course. To the islands the commodore gave the general name of the Archipelago of the Navigators. On the morning of the 11th, another island was discovered, which received the name of the Forlorn Hope.

The ships now steered a westerly course, and early on the morning of the 22d two islands were discovered, one of which received the name Aurora, from the early hour on which it was first seen, and the other that of Whitsuntide Isle, from the day which gave birth to it being so named. In the afternoon, mountainous lands, at thirty miles distance, were seen, appearing, as it were, over and beyond the Island of Aurora. On the 23d it was discovered that this was a separate island, the appearance being lofty, its descent steep, and the whole clothed with trees. From this time to the 27th, they passed many islands, on one of which they observed a fine plantation of trees, between which there were regular walks, resembling those of an European garden. They now quitted this great cluster of islands, which received the general name of Archipelago of the great Cyclades, which, it is conjectured, occupies no less than three degrees of latitude, and five of longitude.

From the 14th to the 18th of June they discovered a number of islands. On July the 2d a cape was discovered, which was called Cape l’Averdi, on which were mountains of an astonishing height. Two more islands were seen on the 6th, and, as the wood and water were expended, and disease reigning aboard, the commodore resolved to land here, and on the following afternoon the ships came to anchor.

In the afternoon of the 24th a favorable breeze enabled the ships to get out to sea. On the 31st a number of Indian boats attacked the Etoile with a volley of stones and arrows; but a single discharge of the musketry got rid of these troublesome companions. On the 4th of August two islands were seen. On the 5th a third island was seen, and then the northern point of New Britain which lies only forty-one minutes south of the land. On the 7th a flat island was seen, covered with trees, abounding with cocoa-nuts. Fishing-boats in multitudes surrounding the island; but the fisherman took no notice of the ships. This received the name of the Island of Anchorets. From this time till the end of the month innumerable small islands were observed every day.

Early in the morning of the 31st our voyagers had sight of the island of Ceram, which runs in a parallel east and west, abounds in lofty mountains, and is partly cleared, and partly in its original state. At midnight a number of fires attracted their attention to the island of Boero, where there is a Dutch factory, at the entrance of the Gulf of Cagei, which the French had sight of at day-break. Their joy on this occasion is not to be expressed, for at this time not half of the seamen were able to perform any duty, and the scurvy had raged so violently, that no man on board was perfectly clear of it.

They sailed on the 7th September and on the 13th the ships were surrounded with Indian boats, bringing parroquets, cockatoos, fowls, eggs, and bananas, which the natives sold for Dutch money, or exchanged for knives. By day-light on the 19th they were within about a league of the Coast of Celibes, which in this part is described as one of the finest countries in the world. On the morning of the 26th the coast of Java appeared with the rising sun. Having come to an anchor for the night, the ships sailed early in the morning of the 27th and on the next day came to anchor in the port of Batavia.

The ships sailed thence on the 16th of October, 1768, and cleared the straits of Sunda on the 19th in the afternoon. By this time the crew were all perfectly recovered of the scurvy, but a few remained ill of the bloody flux. On the 20th the ships were in sight of the Isle of France, and, on the 8th of November, the Boudeuse anchored in the port of that island; the Etoile, which had been unavoidably left behind, anchoring in the same port on the following day.

They sailed from this the 12th of December, 1768, leaving the Etoile behind them to undergo some necessary repairs. Without encountering any singular accident they had sight of the Cape of Good Hope on the 18th of January, and came to anchor in Table Bay on the following morning. Bougainville quitted this on the 17th, anchored off St. Helena on the 4th of February, and on the 25th, joined the Swallow, commanded by Captain Cartert. Nothing material happened from this time till they had sight of the Isle of Ushant, where a violent squall of wind had nearly blasted the hopes of the voyage. On the 15th the commander bore away for St. Maloes, which he entered on the following day, after an absence of two years and four months from his native country; during all which time he had buried only seven of his crew, a circumstance that will be deemed truly astonishing, when we reflect on the variety of dangers they had encountered and the amazing changes of climate they had experienced.

James Cook was born in a mud hut at Marton, in the north riding of Yorkshire, 27th October 1728. His father was an agricultural servant, who, with his wife, bore a most unexceptionable character for honesty and industry. The village school-mistress taught the boy to read; but at eight years of age his father, through his good conduct, was appointed to be bailiff of a farm near Great Ayton, belonging to Thomas Skottowe, Esq., who at his own expense put James to a day-school in that town, where he was taught writing and the first rules in arithmetic. The predilection of the lad inclined him for the sea; but as this stood contrary to the wishes of his parents, he was soon after his twelfth year apprenticed to William Sanderson, a general dealer in haberdashery, grocery, hardware, etc., at Staith, upon the coast, about ten miles north of Whitby. The youth’s mind, however, continued more occupied upon maritime affairs than anything else, and though he faithfully discharged his duty to his master, he longed to be at sea. An opportunity occurred to favor his desires. Mr. Sanderson canceled his indentures, and left him to pursue his inclinations. Thus freed, he bound himself to Messrs. John and Henry Walker, who owned the Freelove, in which Cook embarked. She was principally engaged in the coal trade, but made a voyage or two to the north; and when his time was out, the youngster still continued to serve as a foremast-man till he was made mate of one of Mr. John Walker’s ships. During this period he evinced no particular marks of genius. His associates, however, were not exactly the class of persons to observe the real bent of his mind; they thought him taciturn, and sometimes sullen; but this doubtless arose from his studious habits, and endeavors to acquire knowledge. As for practical seamanship, there could be no better school than a collier.

When in his twenty-seventh year, war broke out between England and France, and Cook, who was then in the Thames, tried to escape the press-gang, which was sweeping the river of every seaman that could be picked up. This restraint, however, did not meet his views; he looked upon the service of his country as honorable, and at once entered for the Eagle, of 60 guns, commanded by Captain Hamer, who, a few months afterwards, was superseded by Captain (subsequently Sir Hugh) Palliser. The young man’s steady conduct and seaman-like qualities soon attracted this officer’s attention. His knowledge of the coasts was excellent; and Mr. Skottowe having applied to Mr. Osbaldeston, M. P. for Scarborough, to exert his influence to raise Cook to the quarter-deck, by the joint interest of this gentleman, with Captain Palliser, a warrant as master was obtained on 10th May 1759, James being then in his thirty-first year. He joined the Grampus, but she had a master already; he was then appointed to the Garland, but she was abroad; and eventually he sailed in the Mercury, to join the fleet under Sir Charles Saunders, then engaged in conjunction with General Wolfe in the reduction of Quebec. Here the peculiar talents of Mr. Cook were called into active operation. The buoys in the navigation of the St. Lawrence had all been removed by the French at the first appearance of the English fleet, and it was essentially necessary that a survey should be made of the channels, and correct soundings obtained, to enable the ships to keep clear of the numerous shoals. By the recommendation of his old commander, Captain Palliser, this onerous duty was confided to Mr. Cook, who readily undertook it in a barge belonging to a 74. This could only be executed in many parts during the darkness of the night, on account of the enemy; and he experienced a narrow escape one night when detected, his boat having been boarded by Indians in the pay of the French, and carried off in triumph, he and his companions getting away just in time to save their lives and scalps. Through Mr. Cook’s judicious arrangements, the fleet reached the island of Orleans in safety; and he afterwards surveyed and made a chart of the St. Lawrence, which, together with sailing directions for that river, were published in London.

On his return from Quebec, Mr. Cook was appointed master of the Northumberland, under Lord Colville, who was stationed as commodore at Halifax. Here he enjoyed much leisure during the winter, but instead of frittering it away in the frivolous or worse amusements of a seaport, he diligently employed it in studies suitable to his profession. No sailor can possibly advance beyond the rank of an ordinary seaman unless he be acquainted with the theory as well as the practice of navigation; and to gain this knowledge, he must attain a proficiency in mathematics. Aware of this, Cook began by gaining a knowledge of Euclid’s Elements of Plane Geometry; and then of the higher branches of mathematical study, including nautical astronomy. By these means he soon learned to take observations, to calculate a ship’s progress, and to ascertain the degree of latitude and longitude at any given spot on the trackless ocean. In short, he became an accomplished mariner, ready for any office of trust. Besides improving himself in these useful branches of education, he possessed sufficient tact to cultivate urbanity of manner, and to gain the confidence and esteem of his acquaintance. This was a point of some consequence; for intellectual acquirements, without a polite and high moral bearing, are of small avail in the general intercourse of the world, and, personally, may do more harm than good. It is gratifying to know that Cook aimed at gentlemanly behavior not less than skill in his profession; and to this commendable effort—​which the most humble may practice—​is perhaps owing not a little of his future success in life.

In 1762 the Northumberland was ordered to Newfoundland, to assist in the recapture of that island; and here the talents and assiduity of our hero were again conspicuous. Greatly improved by his winter’s studies, he was now still more able to make nautical surveys, and these he carried on to a considerable extent on the coast of Newfoundland; laying down bearings, marking headlands and soundings, and otherwise placing on record many facts which proved highly advantageous to future voyagers, especially those engaged in fishing speculations.

Towards the close of this year (1762) Mr. Cook returned to England, and was married at Barking, in Essex, to Miss Elizabeth Batts, who has been spoken of as a truly amiable and excellent woman. In the following year, through the intervention of Captain (afterwards Admiral) Graves, the governor of Newfoundland, who was well acquainted with Cook’s worth, he was appointed to survey the whole coast of that island, which he accomplished with great ability, as well as Miquelon and St. Pierre, which had been ceded to the French. Cook then returned to England, but did not remain long. His constant friend, Sir Hugh Palliser, assumed the command at Newfoundland, and took Mr. Cook with him, bearing the appointment of marine surveyor, and a schooner was directed to attend upon him in his aquatic excursions. His charts and observations, particularly on astronomy, brought him into correspondence with the members of the Royal Society; and some scientific observations on the eclipse of the sun were inserted in the 57th volume of the Philosophical Transactions.

Here may be said to close the first chapter in Cook’s life. We have traced him from the humble home of his father, an obscure peasant, through the early part of his career, till his thirty-fourth year, at which time he had gained a footing among the most learned men in England. The youthful aspirant will observe that this enviable point had not been reached without patient study. Cook could have gained no acquaintanceship with members of the Royal Society, nor could he have placed himself in the way of promotion, had he been contented to remain an illiterate seaman.

First Voyage Round the World. Prepared by diligent self-culture, Cook was ready for any enterprise which circumstances might produce. The project of a voyage of discovery, involving certain important astronomical observations, fortunately came under discussion while he was in a state of hesitation as to his future movements. The principal object of the expedition was to observe a transit of the planet Venus over the face of the sun, which could only be done somewhere in the Pacific or Southern ocean. The transit was to happen in June 1769. The Royal Society, interested as in the phenomenon for the sake of science, applied to George III to fit out an expedition suitable to take the observations. The request was complied with; and no other man being so well calculated to take the command it was given to Cook. The appointment was quite to the mind of our hero, and he was soon ready for sea. He received the commission of a lieutenant from his majesty, and the Endeavour, of 370 tons, was placed at his disposal. About this time Captain Wallis returned from his voyage of discovery, and reported Otaheite (now called Tahiti) to be the most eligible spot for the undertaking. That island was therefore fixed upon for the observation. Mr. Charles Green undertook the astronomical department, and Mr. Banks (afterwards Sir Joseph) and Dr. Solander, purely through love of science, and at great expense to themselves, obtained permission to accompany the expedition.

The Endeavour was victualed for eighteen months, armed with 12 carriage guns and 12 swivels, and manned with a complement of 84 seamen. Every requisite preparation was made for such a voyage that human foresight could suggest; trinkets and other things were put on board to trade with the natives; and on the 26th of August 1768, they sailed from Plymouth Sound for the hitherto but little explored South Seas. On the 13th September they anchored in Funchal roads, Madeira, and here commenced the researches and inquiries of the men of science. From hence they departed on the night of the 18th; and falling short of water and provisions on the Brazil coast, they put into the beautiful harbor of Rio Janeiro on the 13th November. The viceroy of this fine city could make nothing of the scientific intentions of the English, and was exceedingly troublesome and annoying. When told that they were bound to the South Seas to observe the transit of Venus, he could form no other conception of the matter than that it was the passing of the north star through the south pole. Numerous difficulties were thrown in the way of the departure of the voyagers after they had victualed and watered; and when they sailed, shots were fired at them from the fort of Santa Cruz, a heavy battery at the entrance of the harbor; and on inquiry, Mr. Cook ascertained that the pass for the Endeavour had not been sent from the city. A spirited remonstrance was made, and the viceroy apologised.

On the 7th December the voyagers finally quitted this place, and on the 14th January 1769, entered the Straits of Le Maire, where the sea was running tremendously high, and on the following day anchored in the Bay of Good Success. Although the season was extremely inclement, yet the love of botany induced Mr. Banks, Dr. Solander, Mr. Monkhouse the surgeon, and Mr. Green the astronomer, to ascend the mountains in search of plants. They took with them their attendants and servants, with two seamen; and after suffering severe hardships from the cold and the torpor it produced, they got back to the ship on the second day, leaving two black men, who had accompanied them, dead from the extreme severity of the weather. They could not be got on, but lay down to rest, and slept the sleep of death. Dr. Solander with great difficulty was saved; for although the first to warn others against the danger of reposing, yet he was eventually himself so overcome, that great exertion was required to force him along. They found the inhabitants on the coasts of these straits a wretched set of beings, with scarcely any covering; dwelling in hovels made of sticks and grass, that offered no obstruction to the entrance of the wind, the snow, and the rain. They wandered about, picking up a scanty subsistence wherever they could, though they had not a single implement to dress their fish when caught, or any other food: still they appeared contented; and the only things they coveted from the English were beads and useless trinkets.

On the 26th January the Endeavour took her departure from Cape Horn, and before March 1st had run 660 leagues. Several islands were discovered in their progress, most of which were supposed to be inhabited; and their beautiful verdure and delightful appearance were highly gratifying to the sea-worn mariners. On the 11th of April they came in sight of Otaheite, and two days after anchored in Port Royal (Matavai), where the scientific gentlemen landed, and fixed upon a spot to serve them for an observatory. The natives displayed much friendship; but, to prevent collision, Mr. Cook drew up a code of regulations by which communication and traffic were to be carried on. A tent was erected on the site proposed—​the natives keeping outside a marked boundary—​and a midshipman with thirteen marines were placed over it as guards. As soon as this was accomplished, the party proceeded to examine the interior of the island; but soon after their departure, one of the natives snatched away the musket of the sentry. The marines were ordered to fire, and the thief was shot dead. This greatly alarmed the natives; but in a day or two they again became familiarized and friendly. Mr. Cook proceeded to erect a fort round the observatory, and mounted six swivel guns, which caused apprehensions among the chiefs; but the natives assisted in the works; and the commander displayed his sense of justice by publicly flogging the butcher for having attempted or threatened the life of a wife of one of the chiefs, who was particularly favorable to the English. On the first stroke of the lash, the natives earnestly solicited that the man should be forgiven; but Mr. Cook deemed the example essential, and inflicted the whole punishment, greatly to the pain and regret of the compassionate Indians, many of whom shed tears.

As soon as the fort was completed, and the astronomical instruments were landed, they sought for the quadrant by which the transit was to be observed, but it was nowhere to be found. Diligent search was made, and a reward offered, but without success; and it was feared that the object of their long and arduous voyage would remain unaccomplished. At length, through the judicious intervention of Mr. Banks, the quadrant was recovered from the natives who had stolen it, and with great joy set up in its place. The approach of the time of observation produced anxiety and excitement; and hoping that the atmosphere would be clear and favorable, as well as to make assurance sure, Mr. Cook established two other observatories—​one on the island of Eimeo, under Mr. Banks, and the other to the eastward of the main observatory, under Mr. Hicks (the master).

The morning of the 3d June was ushered in with a cloudless sky, and at the fort the transit was observed in the most satisfactory manner. The success of their enterprise was highly gratifying to the voyagers; but their pleasure was somewhat damped by the violence which at times was engendered between the natives and the seamen, the former of whom proved to be dexterous thieves. But Mr. Cook would not allow the plunderers to be fired upon, as he considered the issue of life and death to be of too important a nature to be intrusted to a sentinel, without any form of trial or show of equity; nor did he deem a petty theft as meriting so severe a punishment. On one occasion, however, he seized upon all their fishing canoes, fully laden; and though from motives of humanity he gave up the fish, yet he detained the vessels, under a hope that several articles which had been pilfered would be restored. But in this he was mistaken; for nothing of value was given up, and ultimately he released the canoes. Mr. Cook and Mr. Banks circumnavigated the island, and visited many villages, where they renewed acquaintance with the several chiefs. Exploring parties were also sent into the interior; and Mr. Banks planted the seeds of water-melons, oranges, lemons, limes, and other plants and trees which he had collected for the purpose (some of which are now in rich perfection); and it was ascertained that parts of the island manifested appearances of subterranean fire.

On the 7th July the carpenters began to dismantle the fort preparatory to departure, and on the 13th the ship weighed anchor. Tupia, one of the principal natives, and chief priest of the country, with a boy of thirteen, having obtained permission from Mr. Cook to embark for England, they took an affecting and affectionate leave of their friends. Few places possess more seductive influences than Otaheite. The climate is delightful, the productions of the earth bountiful and almost spontaneous, and the people, though addicted to pilfering, simple, kind-hearted, and hospitable.

After quitting Otaheite, the Endeavour visited the islands Huaheine, Ulietea, Otaha, and Bolabola, where Mr. Cook purchased various articles of food. They also anchored at Owharre, and exchanged friendly gifts with the natives; and presents of English medals, etc., with inscriptions, were made to the king Oree. Ulietea had been conquered by the king of Bolabola, but he received the English with considerable courtesy. These visits occupied rather more than three weeks; and Ulietea, Otaha, Bolabola, Huaheine, Tabai, and Mawrua, as they lay contiguous to each other, were named by Mr. Cook the Society Islands.

In their intercourse with the natives of these places (all of which more or less resembled the manners and habits of the Otaheitans), they were greatly assisted by Tupia, who was very proud of the power possessed by his new friends. On the 9th August, the Endeavour quitted Ulietea, and on the 13th made the island Oheteoa, where they attempted to land; but the natives displayed so much hostility, that Mr. Cook deemed it best to desist, and proceed on his way to the southward in search of a supposed continent. On the 25th they celebrated the anniversary of their departure from England, and on the 30th they observed a comet; it was just above the horizon, to the eastward, at one A. M.; and about half-past four, when it passed the meridian, its tail subtended an angle of forty-five degrees. Tupia declared that its appearance would be the signal for the warriors of Bolabola to attack the Ulieteans and drive them to the mountains. The vessel was now proceeding in a south-westerly direction from the Pacific towards New Zealand, Cook designing to return by way of the Cape of Good Hope, and thus circumnavigate the globe. On the 6th October land was discovered, which proved to be a part of New Zealand; where, having anchored, an attempt was made to open a communication with the natives, but without effect. Their hostile menaces and actions were all of a decidedly warlike nature, and it was only when they felt the superiority of firearms, of which they seemed to have been in ignorance, that they desisted from attacks. Tupia addressed them to be peaceable, and they understood his language; but he could not prevail upon them to put confidence in the English. A conflict took place, in which some of the New Zealanders were rather unnecessarily killed, and three boys were taken prisoners, who were treated with much kindness. As the place afforded nothing that the voyagers wanted, Mr. Cook named it Poverty Bay. The Boys were dismissed, and the treatment they had experienced induced some of the Indians to come off to the ship; but it appeared almost impossible to conciliate any one of them for long. Armed parties in large canoes assembled, and paddled off to the Endeavour, under pretext of trading, but in reality to plunder; and in various instances it was deemed essentially necessary to fire upon them. They also seized Tayeto, Tupia’s boy, but were compelled to relinquish their prey through the effects of a musket ball; and the lad, taking advantage, leaped from the canoe, in which he had been held down, and swam back to the ship. Whilst standing along the coast, they fell in with the largest canoe they had yet seen: her length was 68½ feet, her breadth 5 feet, and her depth 3 feet 6 inches. About this time the Endeavour narrowly escaped being wrecked on the rocks that lay some distance from the land; but by the skill and judgment of Mr. Cook, the danger was avoided. On the 9th November, Lieutenant Cook, accompanied by Mr. Green, landed with the necessary instruments to observe the transit of Mercury over the sun’s disc, and this they performed to their entire satisfaction.

On the 5th December, whilst turning out of the Bay of Islands, it fell calm; and the Endeavour drifted so close to the shore, that notwithstanding the incessant roar of the breakers, they could converse with the natives on the beach. The pinnace was got out to tow the vessel’s head round; but none expected to escape destruction, when a light land-breeze sprang up, and gradually they got clear from their perilous situation—​the ground was too foul to anchor. About an hour afterwards, just as the man heaving the lead sang out ‘seventeen fathoms,’ she struck on a sunken rock with force; but the swell washed her over, and she was again in deep water. On the 30th December they made the land, which they judged to be Cape Maria, Van Diemens; and on the 14th January, 1770, anchored in a snug cove in Queen Charlotte’s Sound, to refit the ship and clean her bottom. Here they caught a great quantity of fish by means of the seine—​at one time not less than three hundred weight at two hauls. They also found an excellent stream of fresh-water. In one of their researches they discovered an Indian family; and it is related that they had indisputable proofs of the custom of eating human flesh. The place they were in is described as very delightful; and Mr. Cook took several opportunities of obtaining views from the high hills, and examining the nearest coast. The inhabitants were friendly disposed, and everywhere received the English with hospitality. Mr. Cook selected a favorable spot, on which he erected a pole, and having hoisted the union jack, named the place Queen Charlotte’s Sound, in honor of her majesty. Coins and spike-nails were given to the Indian spectators; and after drinking the queen’s health in wine, the empty bottle was bestowed upon the man who had carried it when full, with which he was much delighted.

On the 5th February he quitted this part of New Zealand, and proceeded to explore three or four islands in that locality, giving names to capes, headlands, rocks, etc. But this was not accomplished without considerable peril, on account of the strength of the currents. To one place he gave the name of Admiralty Bay, where he took in wood and filled his water-casks, and sailed again on the 31st March, intending to return home by way of the East Indies. On the 19th April they came in sight of New Holland (or New South Wales, as it is now called), and anchored in Botany Bay on the 28th, where they landed; but contrary to the will of two or three Indians, who attacked the English with their lances, but on the firing of muskets, fled. The voyagers left beads and trinkets in the huts of the natives, and during the time they remained at that place they were untouched. The inhabitants seemed utterly regardless of the ship, though they could never have seen such a spectacle before. Here they caught a fish called a string-ray, which, after the entrails were taken out, weighed 336 pounds.

Mr. Cook prosecuted his discoveries in New South Wales with zeal and energy over a tract of 1300 miles; but on the 10th June, near Trinity Bay, the Endeavour struck on a reef of coral rocks, and was compelled to start her water, throw her guns overboard, and use every mode to lighten the vessel; but with four pumps at work, they could not keep her free; and every soul, though struggling hard for life, yet prepared for that death which now appeared to be inevitable. Upon these rocks the ship remained for nearly forty-eight hours, her sheathing ripped off, and the very timbers nearly rubbed through: by great exertion, however, she was got afloat at high tide, and it was found that she made no more water than when aground; and the men, by working incessantly at the pumps, kept her afloat. At the suggestion of Mr. Monkhouse, a sail was fothered (that is, pieces of oakum and other light materials were slightly stitched to it), and being hauled under the ship’s bottom, the loose pieces were sucked into the leaks, and in a great measure stopped the holes, so that they were enabled to keep the water in the hold under with only one pump. On the morning of the 17th, after running aground twice, they got into a convenient harbor for repairing their damages; and here, when the vessel was hove down, they found a large piece of rock in the ship’s bottom, firmly jammed in the hole it had made, so as to exclude the sea, and which, if it had fallen out, must have proved fatal to all.

About this time the scurvy broke out amongst them, and attacked indiscriminately both officers and men; but the quantity of fish that was caught, allowing each man two pounds and a-half per day, together with turtle and herbs, somewhat checked its progress. Three of the turtle caught weighed together 791 pounds. The natives took but little notice of the voyagers at first, but afterwards became familiar; and on one occasion, when refused something which they wanted, one of them seized a firebrand, and going to windward of the place where the armorer was at work, set fire to the high grass, so that every part of the smith’s forge that would burn was destroyed. A musket ball was fired at them, and they ran away. The fire was repeated in the woods shortly afterwards, but without injury, as the stores and powder that had been landed were already on board. The hills all round burned fiercely for several nights.

It must here be mentioned, that the injuries sustained by the vessel proved destructive to many valuable specimens that had been collected by Mr. Banks, which had been put for security in the bread-room, but the salt-water saturating a great portion, they were utterly spoiled. The place where they refitted was named by Mr. Cook Endeavour River. Its entrance for many miles was surrounded with shoals, and the channels between them were very intricate. On the 4th August they quitted their anchorage, and it was not till the 24th that they got clear of the reefs and sandbanks. After another narrow escape from being wrecked, they made New Guinea on the 3d September, where they anchored, and went on shore; but the hostility of the natives, who resembled those of New South Wales, prevented intercourse. The latter used a sort of combustible material that ignited, without any report. The land looked rich and luxurious in vegetation, and the cocoa-nut, the bread-fruit, and the plantain trees, flourished in the highest perfection. Mr. Cook made sail to the westward, contrary to the wish of his people, who wanted to cut down the trees to get their fruit, but which, through humanity to the natives, he would not permit. In pursuing their voyage, they fell in with islands which were not upon the charts, and passed Timor and others, intending to run for Java: on the 17th they saw a beautiful island, and found Dutch residents, with cattle and sheep. The crew of the Endeavour had suffered many privations and hardships, and the scurvy was making havoc among them, so that they complained of their commander not having put in at Timor; but now they obtained nine buffaloes, six sheep, three hogs, thirty dozen of fowls, etc., with several hundred gallons of palm syrup. This was the island Savu, and the natives are spoken of as highly pure in their morals and integrity, and their land a perfect paradise.

On the 21st Mr. Cook again sailed, and on the 1st of October came within sight of Java, and on the 9th brought up in Batavia Roads, where they found the Harcourt East Indiaman, and once more enjoyed the pleasure of communicating with their countrymen, and obtaining news from home. As it was deemed necessary to reëxamine the Endeavour’s bottom, preparations were made for the purpose. Tupia and his boy Tayoeta were almost mad with delight on viewing the display of European manners on shore; but sickness assailed all who resided in the city, and the two Indians became its victims. In about six weeks there were buried Mr. Spearing, assistant to Mr. Banks, Mr. Parkinson, artist, Mr. Green, astronomer, the boatswain, the carpenter and his mate, Mr. Monkhouse and another midshipman, the sailmaker and his assistant, the ship’s cook, the corporal of marines, and eleven seamen.

On the 27th of December the Endeavour, being completed, stood out to sea, and on the 5th of January 1771, anchored at Prince’s Island, but sailed again on the 15th for the Cape of Good Hope, where they arrived on the 15th of March. On the 14th April Mr. Cook resumed his voyage home, touched at St Helena (1st May to 4th), made the Lizard on the 10th of June, and anchored the next day in the Downs, where Mr. Cook left her.

The arrival of Mr. Cook, and the publication of sketches of his voyage, produced earnest desires to ascertain the full extent of his discoveries. Unknown parts had been explored; vast additions were made to geographical and scientific knowledge; the productions of various countries, together with the manners, habits, and customs of the natives, excited universal curiosity and deep interest; so that, when Dr. Hawkesworth’s account of the voyage, from the papers of Mr. Cook and Mr. Banks, was published, it was eagerly bought up at a large price. The astronomical observations threw much information on the theory of the heavenly bodies; navigation had eminently proved its vast capabilities: it had been in a great measure determined that no southern continent existed, or at least that neither New Zealand nor New South Wales were parts of such a continent; and most interesting accounts were given of the places visited and the perils encountered.

Mr. Cook was promoted to the rank of commander; the Royal Society honored him with especial favor and notice; and his society was courted by men of talent and research, eager for information. His worthy patrons, Sir Charles Saunders and Sir Hugh Palliser, were gratified to find their recommendations had been so well supported; the Earl of Sandwich, then at the head of the Admiralty Board, paid him considerable attention; and his majesty George III, treated him with more than ordinary consideration. Captain Cook enjoyed sufficient to make him proud; but he was too humble in mind, too modest in disposition, and too diffident in manners, to cherish one atom of unbecoming self-estimation.

Second Voyage Round the World. The idea of the existence of a southern continent, or as the learned called it, Terra Australis Incognita, had existed for more than two centuries; and though Cook had sailed over many parts where it was said to be situated, without seeing land, yet his first voyage did not altogether destroy the expectation that it might yet be found. Besides, his discoveries in the South Seas had whetted the public appetite for still further knowledge on the subject. The king, well pleased with what had been done, wished more to be accomplished; and accordingly, two stout ships built at Hull were purchased—​the Resolution, of 462 tons, commanded by Captain Cook, with a complement of 112 persons; and the Adventure, of 336 tons, commanded by Tobias Furneaux, with a crew including officers, of 81 souls. These appointments took place on the 28th of November 1771, and the most active exertions were immediately called into operation to fit them for the undertaking. Experience had taught Captain Cook what was the most essential and requisite for such a voyage; not only for the comforts and preservation of his people from scurvy, not only for commerce with the natives, but cattle and seeds of various kinds, and numerous things which philanthropy suggested, were shipped for the purpose of spreading the advantages of propagation and fertility amongst the South Sea islands; the benefits of which have since been experienced by other voyagers in an eminent degree. The Admiralty engaged Mr. W. Hodges as landscape painter; Mr. J. R. Forster and son were appointed to collect specimens of natural history; and Mr. Wales in the Resolution, and Mr. Bayley in the Adventure, were sent by the Board of Longitude to superintend astronomical observations, for which they were furnished with admirable instruments and four excellent time-pieces.

The instructions given to Captain Cook were—​‘To circumnavigate the whole globe in high southern latitudes, making traverses from time to time into every part of the Pacific Ocean that had not undergone previous investigation, and to use his best endeavors to resolve the much agitated question of the existence of a southern continent.’

On the 13th July 1772, the two vessels quitted Plymouth, and after touching at Madeira for wine, and at the Cape de Verde for water, crossed the line with a brisk south-west wind, and anchored in Table Bay, Cape of Good Hope, on the 30th October. Here Captain Cook ascertained that the French were prosecuting discoveries in the South Seas, and that, eight months before, two French ships had sailed about forty miles along land in the latitude of 48 degrees, but had been driven off by a gale of wind. He also learned that two others had recently left the Mauritius for a similar purpose. On the 22d November Captain Cook took leave of Table Bay, and pursued his voyage for Cape Circumcision, but encountered very severe gales, which destroyed much of the live stock, and the people experienced great inconvenience from the intensity of the cold. The judicious management of the commander, however, prevented any fatal result. Warm clothing was given to the men; the decks below were kept well dried and ventilated, as well as warmed; and an addition was made to the issue of grog. On the 10th December they fell in with immense icebergs, some two miles in circuit at the edge of the water, and about sixty feet in height, over which the sea was breaking with tremendous violence. On the 14th the ships were stopped by a field of low ice, to which no end could be seen, either, east, west, or south. On the 18th they got clear of this obstruction, but continued amongst the fields and bergs, with heavy gales of wind, till the 1st January 1773, when it was clear enough to see the moon, which they had only done once before since quitting the Cape. The fogs had been so impenetrable as to obscure the heavens. Various indications had induced a belief that land was not far distant, and Captain Cook had as near as possible pursued a course for the supposed Cape Circumcision. By the 7th January they had reached the latitude of 67 degrees 15 minutes south, where they found the ice closely packed from east to west-south-west, and further progress debarred, unless by running the hazard of getting blocked up as the summer in this part of the world was rapidly passing away. The captain therefore desisted from penetrating further to the south, and returned northerly, to look for the asserted recently-discovered land of the French. On the 1st February they were in latitude 48 degrees 30 minutes south, and longitude 58 degrees 7 minutes east, where it was stated to have been seen; but nothing of the kind presented itself to view. He traversed this part of the ocean with similar results; and during a dense fog, parted company with the Adventure. On the 23d they were in latitude 61 degrees 52 minutes south, and longitude 95 degrees 2 minutes east; the weather thick and stormy, and the ship surrounded by drifting ice. Captain Cook therefore stood to the north in a hard gale with a heavy sea, which broke up the mountains of ice, and rendered them, by their numbers, still more dangerous, especially in the long dark nights. On the 13th and 14th March the astronomers got observations which showed the latitude to be 58 degrees 22 minutes south, and the longitude 136 degrees 22 minutes east, whilst the watches showed the latter to be 134 degrees 42 minutes east. Captain Cook had become convinced he had left no continent south of him, and consequently shaped a course for New Zealand, to refresh his men, refit his ship, and look for the Adventurer. He made the land, and anchored in Dusky Bay on the 26th March, after having been 117 days at sea, and traversed 3660 leagues without seeing any land; whilst during the whole time, through the arrangements and supplies of Captain Cook, scarcely a single case of scurvy occurred. From Dusky Bay they removed to another anchorage, where fish were plentifully caught, and the woods abounded with wild fowl; timber and fire-wood were close at hand, and a fine stream of fresh water within a hundred yards of the ship’s stern. This place was named Pickersgill harbor, in honor of the lieutenant who discovered it. The workmen erected tents for the forge, the carpenters, the sail-makers, coopers, and others, and a spot was selected for an observatory. Some tolerably good beer was manufactured from the branches and leaves of a tree resembling the American black spruce, mixed with the inspissated juice of wort and molasses.

On the 28th some of the natives visited them, and though at first shy, a friendly intercourse was subsequently established. Captain Cook surveyed Dusky Bay, where in retired spots, he planted seeds, and left several geese. They also caught a number of seals, from which they procured a supply of oil. On the 11th May they quitted this place for Queen Charlotte’s Sound, and on the 17th it fell perfectly calm, and they had an opportunity of seeing no less than six waterspouts, one of which passed within fifty yards of the Resolution. The next day they made the Sound, where the Adventure had already arrived, and great was the joy of meeting. On the 4th June they celebrated the birthday of George III, and a chief and his family, consisting of ninety persons, were shown the gardens which had been made, which they promised to continue in cultivation. A male and female goat were put on shore on the east side of the Sound, and a boar and two sows near Cannibal Cove, which it was hoped would not be molested.

On the 17th June the ships sailed, and on the 29th July the crew of the Adventure manifested rather alarming symptoms of a sickly state. The cook died, and about twenty of her best men were incapable of duty through scurvy and flux; whilst at this period only three men were sick in the Resolution, and but one of these with the scurvy. The difference was attributed to the people of the former ship not having fed much upon celery, scurvy-grass, and other greens, whilst at Queen Charlotte’s Sound. On the 1st of August they were in the supposed position of Pitcairn’s Island, laid down by captain Carteret in 1767; but as its longitude was incorrectly stated, they did not see it, but must have passed it about fifteen leagues to the westward. August 6th, the ships got advantage of the trade-winds at south-east, being at that time in latitude 19 deg. 36 min. south, and longitude 131 deg. 32 min. west. The captain directed his course west-northwest, passed a number of islands and rocks, which he named the Dangerous Archipelago, and on the 15th of August came in sight of Osnaburgh Island, or Maitea, which had been discovered by captain Wallis, and sail was immediately made for Otaheite, which they saw the same evening.

On the 17th the ships anchored in Oaiti-piha Bay, and the natives immediately crowded on board with fruit and roots, which were exchanged for nails and beads; and presents of shirts, axes, etc., were made to several who called themselves chiefs. Their thieving propensities, however, could not be restrained; and some articles of value having been stolen, Captain Cook turned the whole of them out of the ship, and then fired musketry over their heads, to show them the hazard which they ran. It is worthy of remark, that though Tupia was well known to the islanders, yet very few inquired what had become of him; and those who did, on being informed that he was dead, expressed neither sorrow, suspicion, nor surprise; but every one anxiously asked for Mr. Banks and others who had accompanied Captain Cook in his former voyage. With respect to the Otaheitans, considerable changes had occurred. Toutaha, the regent of the great peninsula of that island, had been slain in the battle about five months before the Resolution’s arrival, and Otoo was now the reigning chief. Several others friendly to the English had fallen; but Otoo manifested much friendship for them. A few days subsequent to their anchoring in the bay, a marine died; the rest of the men, who labored under sickness and scorbutic weakness, very soon recovered, through the supplies of fresh meat and vegetables.

On the 24th the ships got under weigh, and the next evening anchored in Matavai Bay, where the decks became excessively crowded by natives, who had visited them the voyage previous. On the following day Captain Cook went to Oparre to see Otoo, whom he describes as a fine well-made man, six feet high, and about thirty years of age. He was not, however, very courageous, for he declined accompanying the captain on board the Resolution, as he was ‘afraid of the guns.’ The observatory was fitted up, the sick were landed, as well as a guard of marines, and the natives brought hogs and fruits to barter. Some disturbance that took place through two or three marines behaving rudely to the women, caused at the time considerable alarm; but the men were seized and punished, and tranquillity restored.

Everything being ready for sea, on the 1st of September the ships quitted Matavai Bay, and visited the other islands. At Owharre, the chief brought the presents he had received from Captain Cook on the previous voyage, to show that he had treasured them. He also behaved very generously, in sending the best fruits and vegetables that could be procured for the captain’s table. The intercourse with the natives was proceeding very quietly, when, on the 6th, without any provocation, a man assailed Captain Cook with a club at the landing-place; and Mr. Sparrman, who had gone into the woods to botanise, was stripped and beaten. The Indians expressed great contrition for this outrage; and the king, on being informed of it, not only wept aloud, but placed himself under the entire control of the English, and went with them in search of the stolen articles. His subjects endeavored to prevent this, but his sister encouraged him, and not meeting with success, Oree insisted on being taken on board the Resolution to remain as a hostage. He dined with Captain Cook, and was afterwards landed by that officer, to the great joy of the people, who brought in hogs and fruits, and soon filled two boats. The next day the ships unmoored, and put to sea for Huaheine, where they remained a short time, and received on board a native named Omai, who afterwards figured much in England.

The inhabitants of the Society Islands generally manifested great timidity; on some occasion they offered human sacrifices to a supreme being. The voyagers quitted this part of the world on the 17th, and sailed to the westward, and gave the name of Harvey’s Island to land they discovered on the 23d. It was in 19 degrees 18 minutes south, and 158 degrees 4 minutes west. By October 1st they reached Middleburg, and were welcomed with loud acclamations by the natives. Barter commenced; but the people ashore seemed more desirous to give than receive, and threw into the boats whole bales of cloth, without asking or waiting for anything in the return. After leaving some garden seeds, and other useful things, the ships proceeded to Amsterdam, where they met a similar reception; but Captain Cook putting a stop to the purchase of curiosities and cloth, the natives brought off pigs, fowls, and fruits in abundance, which they exchanged for spike nails. The island was extensively cultivated; there appeared to be not an inch of waste ground; and the fertility of the soil was excellent. Captain Cook paid a visit to the head chief, who was seated, and seemed to be in a sort of idiotic stupor, nor did he take the slightest notice of the captain or any one else. The inhabitants of these islands are described as being of good shape, regular features, brisk and lively; particularly the women, who were constantly merry and cheerful. Most of the people had lost one or both of their little fingers, but no reason could be gathered as to the cause of amputation.

The voyage was renewed on the 7th October, and on the 21st they came in sight of New Zealand, eight or ten leagues from Table Cape, when Captain Cook presented the chief with two boars, two sows, four hens, two cocks, and a great variety of seeds—​wheat, peas, beans, cabbage, turnips, onions, &c., and a spike nail about ten inches in length, with which latter he seemed to be more delighted than with all the rest put together. After beating about the coast in a variety of tempestuous weather, the Resolution anchored in Ship Cove, Queen Charlotte’s Sound, on the 3d November; but the Adventure was separated from them in a heavy gale, and was never seen or heard of during the remainder of the voyage. In this place they made the best use of the means they possessed to repair the damage they had sustained, but, on examining the stock of bread, ascertained that 4992 pounds were totally unfit for use, and other 3000 pounds in such a state of decay that none but persons situated as our voyagers were could have eaten it. On inquiry after the animals left on the island by Captain Cook, most of them were preserved in a good condition, with the exception of two goats that a native had destroyed. The articles planted in the gardens were in a flourishing condition. To his former gifts the captain now added many others, and placed them in such situations that they were not likely to be disturbed. Whilst lying here, complaint was made that some of the Resolution’s men had plundered a native hut. The thief was discovered, tied up to a post, and flogged in the presence of the chiefs and their people, who expressed themselves satisfied with the punishment inflicted. It was a great principle with Cook to set an example of strict honesty.

In this second voyage the captain gained indisputable proofs that the New Zealanders were eaters of human flesh; but he firmly believed that it was the flesh of captives, or those who had been killed in battle.

Captain Cook quitted New Zealand on the 26th November, his ship’s company in good health and spirits, and nowise daunted at the prospects of hardships they were about to endure in again searching for a southern continent or islands in high latitudes. They were not long before they once more encountered fields and islands of ice, and when in latitude 67 degrees 5 minutes, they were nearly blocked up. On the 22d of December they attained the highest latitude they could venture—​this was 67 degrees 31 minutes south, and in longitude 142 degrees 54 minutes west; but no land was discovered. The crew of the Resolution were attacked by slight fever, caused by colds, but on coming northward, it was cured in a few days; and on the 5th January 1774, when in 50 degrees south, there were not more than two or three persons on the sick list.

After traversing the ocean as far south as it was prudent to go, all the scientific men expressed their belief that ice surrounded the pole without any intervening land; the Resolution consequently returned to the northward to look for the island of Juan Fernandez. About this time Captain Cook was seized with a dangerous and distressing disease, and it was several days before the worst symptoms were removed. On his amending, there being no fresh provisions on board, and his stomach loathing the salt food, a favorite dog of Mr. Forster was killed and boiled, which afforded both broth and meat, and upon this fare he gained strength. The Resolution on the 11th March, came in sight of Easter Island, situated in 27 degrees 5 minutes south, and 109 degrees 46 minutes west, where they remained a few days, and found the inhabitants very similar in appearance and character to the people of the more western isles. The place, however, afforded scarcely any food or fuel, the anchorage was unsafe, and the only matters worthy of notice were some rudely-carved gigantic statues in the interior. Captain Cook left Easter Island to pursue a course for the Marquesas, and got sight of them on the 6th April. During the passage the captain had a recurrence of his disorder, but it was neither so violent nor so long in duration as before. The ship was anchored in Resolution Bay, at the island of St. Christina, where thievery was practiced equally as much as at the Society and other isles; and one of the natives was unfortunately killed whilst in the act of carrying away the iron stanchion of the gangway. They had now been nineteen weeks at sea, entirely on salt provisions; but still, owing to the anti-scorbutic articles and medicines, and the warmth and cleanliness preserved, scarcely a man was sick. Here they obtained fresh meat, fruits, yams, and plantains, but in small quantities; and the captain having corrected, by astronomical observations, the exact position of these islands, once more made sail for Otaheite. During the passage they passed several small islands, and discovered four others, which Cook named after his old commander, Sir Hugh Palliser. On the 22d April the anchor was again let go in Matavai Bay, where the usual process was gone through of erecting the observatory to try the rates of the watches; but no tent was required for the sick, as there was not a man ill on board.

During the stay of Captain Cook at this island, where refreshments of all kinds were readily obtained, and particularly in exchange for some red feathers that had been brought from Amsterdam, the old friendships were renewed with Otoo and other chiefs; there was a constant interchange of visits; and on one occasion the Otaheitans got up a grand naval review.

The large canoes in this part of the world are extremely graceful and handsome in display, particularly the double war canoes, with flags and streamers, paddling along with great swiftness, and performing their evolutions with considerable skill. No less than 160 of the largest double war canoes were assembled, fully equipped, and the chiefs and their men, habited in full war costume, appeared upon the fighting stages, with their clubs and other instruments of warfare ready for action. Besides these large vessels, there were 170 smaller double canoes, each of these last having a mast and sail, and a sort of hut or cabin on the deck. Captain Cook calculated that the number of men embarked in them could not be fewer than 7760, most of them armed with clubs, pikes, barbed spears, bows and arrows, and slings for throwing large stones; in fact, strongly resembling the representations of engagements with galleys in the Mediterranean described some centuries before. The spectacle at Otaheite was extremely imposing, and greatly surprised the English.

Whilst lying at Matavai Bay, one of the islanders was caught in the act of stealing a water-cask. Captain Cook had him secured and sent on board the Resolution, where he was put in irons, and in this degraded situation was seen by Otoo and other chiefs, who entreated that the man might be pardoned. But the captain would not comply with their requests; he told them that ‘any act of dishonesty amongst his own people was severely punished, and he was resolved to make an example of the thief he had caught.’ Accordingly, the culprit was taken ashore to the tents, the guard turned out, and the offender being tied to a post, received two dozen lashes, inflicted by a boatswain’s mate. Towha, one of the chiefs, then addressed the people, and recommended them to abstain from stealing in future. To make a further impression on them, the marines were ordered to go through their exercise, and load and fire with ball.

A few days afterwards one of the gunner’s mates attempted to desert, and it was soon ascertained that he had formed an attachment on shore, and if he had got away, the natives would have concealed him up the country. Indeed the temptations for remaining in this beautiful country were very great. Every requisite to sustain existence was abundant, the scenery splendid, the earth spontaneously fertile, the waters abounding with fish—​in short, a few hours’ exertion was sufficient to obtain a week’s supply; and in a climate replete with health, a European might have rendered others subservient to his will, and lived without labor of any kind.

They next anchored in Owharre harbor, at Huaheine, and the former amicable intercourse was repeated. The stock of nails and articles of traffic being much reduced, the smiths were set to work to manufacture more. Whilst lying here, the voyagers had an opportunity of witnessing a theatrical representation, principally founded on an actual occurrence. A young girl had quitted Otaheite and her friends to accompany a seaman to Ulieta, and she was now present to see the drama. It described her as running away from her home, the grief of her parents, and a long string of adventures, which terminated in her return to her native place, where her reception was none of the most gentle that can be conceived. The poor girl could hardly be persuaded to wait for the conclusion, and she cried most bitterly.

They parted from the inhabitants with much regret, and having called at Ulieta, they sailed past Howe Island, and discovered another nearly surrounded with reefs, to which the name of Palmerston was given. On the 20th July fresh land was seen, on which they went ashore, but found the natives fierce and hostile. The firing of muskets did not deter them; and one came close enough to throw a spear at the captain, which passed over his shoulder. The captain presented his piece, but it missed fire, and the daring fellow was saved. They named this Savage Island. It lies in latitude 19 degrees 1 minute south, longitude 169 degrees 37 minutes west. From thence, after passing a number of small islets, they anchored on the 26th on the north side of Anamocka, Rotterdam, and commenced trade for provisions. But here, as at the other islands, frequent disputes and conflicts took place with the inhabitants on account of their thievish propensities. Here they ascertained that a chain of islands, some of which they could see, existed in the neighborhood, forming a group within the compass of three degrees of latitude, and two of longitude, and which Captain Cook named the Friendly Isles; which designation they certainly merited, for the social qualities and conduct of the natives.

Pursuing their course westward, they came, on the 1st July, to a small island, which, on account of the great number of turtle, was named after that amphibious creature; and on the 16th they saw high land; and after coasting it for two other days, they anchored in a harbor in the island of Mallecollo, to which the captain gave the name of Port Sandwich. At first the natives were hostile, but they were soon conciliated through the bland manners of Cook, and were found strictly honest in all their dealings. In fact, they are described as totally different to any they had yet visited. They were very dark, extremely ugly, and ill-proportioned, and their features strongly resembled those of a monkey.

Soon after getting to sea, various other islands were seen and named; and an affray took place with some of the natives, in which two of them were wounded. A promontory near where the skirmish occurred they called Traitor’s Head. After cruising about amongst the great number of islands in this locality, making observations and taking surveys, they steered towards New Zealand, to wood and water, previous to a renewal of their search southward; and on the 4th September discovered land, and entered a pleasant harbor on the following day, where they were well received. On the 13th they weighed again, and surveyed the coast, by which they ascertained that the island was very extensive; and, from certain peculiarities, Cook named it New Caledonia. Botany here received great accessions. Many plants were collected hitherto unknown: and both geography and natural history afforded much research to the scientific men. A small island, on which were growing some pine trees, received the name of Pine Island; and another was called Botany, from the great variety of specimens obtained.

The Resolution, in proceeding for New Zealand, touched at an uninhabited island, abounding with vegetation, which was named Norfolk Island, and on the 18th October anchored in Ship Cove, Queen Charlotte’s Sound, where she refitted and the captain completed his survey. Captain Cook had buried a bottle near the Cove when he was here before, and in digging now it was not to be found. It was therefore supposed that the Adventure had anchored here, and her people had removed it. On the 10th November they took their departure; and having sailed till the 27th in different degrees of latitude, from 43 degrees to 54 degrees 8 minutes south, Captain Cook gave up hopes of falling in with any more land in this ocean. He therefore resolved to steer for the west entrance of the Straits of Magellan, in order to coast along the south side of Terra del Fuego, round Cape Horn to the Straits of Le Maire. On the 17th December he reached his first destination, and here the scenery was very different from what they had before beheld. Lofty rocky mountains entirely destitute of vegetation, craggy summits, and horrible precipices; the whole aspect of the country barren and savage. Yet near every harbor they were enabled to procure fresh-water and fuel; and there were plenty of wild fowl and geese. The inhabitants were wretchedly poor and ignorant.

On the 25th January 1778, having coasted it as far as 60 degrees south, the land presenting the same uncouth appearance, covered with ice and snow, and the ship exposed to numerous storms, and the people to intense cold, the course was altered to look for Bouvet’s Land; but though they reached the spot where it was laid down on the charts, and sailed over and over it, yet no such place could be discovered; and after two days’ search more to the southward, Cook came to the conclusion that Bouvet had been deceived by the ice, and once more bent his thoughts towards home—​especially as the ship stood in need of repairs, and her sails and rigging were nearly worn out—​and consequently steered for the Cape of Good Hope, where he heard of the Adventure, and anchored in Table Bay on the 22d of March. From thence he sailed on the 27th of April, touched at St. Helena on the 15th of May, and remained till the 21st, and then got under weigh for Ascension, where he arrived on the 28th; and from thence shaped a course for the remarkable island Fernando de Noronha, which he reached on the 9th of June; and pursuing his way for the western islands, anchored in Fayal Roads on the 14th of July, where Mr. Wales the astronomer determined the position of the Azores by a series of observations. The Resolution ultimately entered Portsmouth on the 30th; and Captain Cook landed after an absence of three years and eighteen days, having sailed 20,000 leagues in various climates—​from the extreme of heat to the extreme of cold. But so judicious had been the arrangements for preserving health, and so carefully had Captain Cook attended to the ventilation between decks, and the mode of promoting warmth, as well as the food, etc., of the people, that he lost only one man by sickness. It may naturally be supposed that the wear and tear of the ship was great, her rigging scarcely trustworthy, and her sails unfit to meet a fresh breeze; yet so careful were the officers of the masts and yards, that not a spar of any consequence was carried away during the whole voyage.

The fame of Captain Cook as a navigator, coupled with his marked humanity as a man, now exalted him in public estimation far beyond what he had before experienced; and the utmost anxiety prevailed to obtain intelligence relative to his discoveries, etc. The king, to testify his approbation, made him a post captain nine days subsequent to his arrival; and three days afterwards, a captaincy in Greenwich Hospital was conferred upon him, to afford an honorable and competent retirement from active service. On the 29th of February 1776, he was elected a member of the Royal Society, and in a short time he was honored with the gold medal; Sir John Pringle, in presenting it, uttering a well-merited eulogium on the worthy receiver. The account of his second voyage was written by Captain Cook himself, and manifests a plain manly style, giving facts rather than embellishments.

Cook’s Last Voyage. The discovery of a supposed north-west passage from the North Atlantic to the North Pacific oceans had for many years been ardently sought for both by the English and the Dutch. Frobisher in 1576 made the first attempt, and his example was in succeeding times followed by many others. But though much geographical information had been gained in the neighborhood of Hudson’s Bay, Davies’ Straits, Baffin’s Bay, and the coast of Greenland, yet no channel whatever was found. By act of parliament, £20,000 was offered to the successful individual. But though Captain Middleton in 1741, and Captains Smith and Moore in 1746, explored those seas and regions, the object remained unattained. The Honorable Captain Phipps (afterwards Earl Mulgrave) was sent out in the Racehorse, accompanied by Captain Lutwidge in the Carcase (Lord Nelson was a boy in this latter ship), to make observations, and to penetrate as far as it was practicable to do so. They sailed on the 2d of June 1773, and made Spitzbergen on the 28th; but after great exertions, they found the ice to the northward utterly impenetrable. Once they became closely jammed, and it was only with great difficulty they escaped destruction. On the 22d of August, finding it impossible to get further to the northward, eastward, or westward, they made sail, according to their instructions, for England, and arrived off Shetland on the 7th of September.

Notwithstanding these numerous failures, the idea of an existing passage was still cherished; and earl Sandwich continuing at the head of the Admiralty, resolved that a further trial should be made, and captain Cook offered his services to undertake it. They were gladly accepted, and on the 10th of February, 1776, he was appointed to command the expedition in his old but hardy ship, the Resolution, and captain Clerke, in the Discovery, was ordered to attend him. In this instance, however, the mode of experiment was to be reversed, and instead of attempting the former routes by Davis’ Straits or Baffin’s Bay, etc., Cook, at his own request, was instructed to proceed into the South Pacific, and thence to try the passage by the way of Behring’s Straits; and as it was necessary that the islands in the southern ocean should be revisited, cattle and sheep, with other animals, and all kinds of seeds, were shipped for the advantage of the natives.

Every preparation having been made, the Resolution quitted Plymouth on the 12th of July (the Discovery was to follow), taking Omai, the native brought from the Society Isles, with him. Having touched at Teneriffe, they crossed the equator September 1st, and reached the Cape on the 18th of October, where the Discovery joined them on the 10th of November. Whilst lying in Table Bay, the cattle were landed; and some dogs getting into the pens, worried and killed several of the sheep, and dispersed the rest. Two fine rams and two ewes were lost; but the two latter were recovered; the others could not be got back. Captain Cook here made an addition to his stock, and, besides other animals, purchased two young stallions and two mares.

November 30th the ships sailed again, and encountered heavy gales, in which several sheep and goats died. On the 12th of December they saw two large islands, which Cook named Prince Edward’s Islands; and three days afterwards several others were seen; but having reached Keguelen’s Land, they anchored in a convenient harbor on Christmas day. On the north side of this harbor one of the men found a quart bottle fastened to a projecting rock by stout wire, and on opening it, the bottle was found to contain a piece of parchment, on which was an inscription purporting that the land had been visited by a French vessel in 1772–3. To this Cook added a notice of his own visit; the parchment was then returned to the bottle, and the cork being secured with lead, was placed upon a pile of stones near to the place from which it had been removed. The whole country was extremely barren and desolate; and on the 30th they came to the eastern extremity of Kerguelen’s Land. To his great chagrin, whilst exploring the coast, captain Cook lost through the intense cold two young bulls, one heifer, two rams, and several of the goats.

On the 24th of January, 1777, they came in sight of Van Diemen’s Land, and on the 26th anchored in Adventure Bay, where intercourse was opened with the natives, and Omai took every opportunity of lauding his friends the English. Here they obtained plenty of grass for the remaining cattle, and a supply of fresh provisions for themselves. On the 30th they quitted their port, convinced that Van Diemen’s Land was the southern point of New Holland. Subsequent investigations, however, have proved this idea to be erroneous; Van Diemen’s Land being an island separated from the mainland of Australia by Bass’ Straits.

On the 12th of February captain Cook anchored at his old station in Queen Charlotte’s Sound, New Zealand; but the natives were very shy in approaching the ships, and none could be persuaded to come on board. The reason was, that on the former voyage, after parting with the Resolution, the Adventure had visited this place, and ten of her crew had been killed in an unpremeditated skirmish with the natives. It was the fear of retaliatory punishment that kept them aloof. Captain Cook, however, soon made them easy upon the subject, and their familiarity was renewed; but great caution was used, to be fully prepared for a similar attack, by keeping the men well armed on all occasions. Of the animals left at this island in the former voyages, many were thriving; and the gardens though left in a state of nature, were found to contain cabbages, onions, leeks, radishes, mustard, and a few potatoes. The captain was enabled to add to both. At the solicitation of Omai he received two New Zealand lads on board the Resolution, and by the 27th was clear of the coast.

After landing at a number of islands, and not finding adequate supplies, the ships sailed for Anamocka, and the Resolution was brought up in exactly the same anchorage that she had occupied three years before. The natives behaved in a most friendly manner, and but for their habits of stealing, quiet would have been uninterrupted. Nothing, however, could check this propensity, till captain Cook shaved the heads of all whom he caught practicing it. This rendered them an object of ridicule to their countrymen, and enabled the English to recognize and keep them at a distance. Most of the Friendly Isles were visited by the ships, and everywhere they met with a kind reception. On the 10th of June they reached Tongataboo, where the king offered captain Cook his house to reside in. Here he made a distribution of his animals amongst the chiefs, and the importance of preserving them was explained by Omai. A horse and mare, a bull and cow, several sheep and turkeys, were thus given away; but two kids and two turkey-cocks having been stolen, the captain seized three canoes, put a guard over the chiefs, and insisted that not only the kids and turkeys should be restored, but also everything that had been taken away since their arrival. This produced a good effect, and much of the plunder was returned.

Captain Cook remained at the Friendly Islands nearly three months, and lived almost entirely during that period upon fresh provisions, occasionally eating the produce of the seeds he had sown there in his former visits. On the 17th July they took their final leave of these hospitable people, and on the 12th August reached Otaheite, and took up a berth in Oaiti-piha Bay, which it was discovered had been visited by two Spanish ships since the Resolution had last been there.

Animals of various kinds had been left in the country by the Spaniards, and the islanders spoke of them with esteem and respect. On the 24th the ships went round to Matavai Bay, and Captain Cook presented to the king, Otoo, the remainder of his live stock. There were already at Otoo’s residence a remarkably fine bull and some goats that had been left by the Spaniards, and to these the captain added another bull, three cows, a horse and mare, and a number of sheep; also a peacock and hen, a turkey-cock and hen, one gander and three geese, a drake and four ducks. The geese and ducks began to breed before the English left the island.

They here witnessed a human sacrifice, to propitiate the favor of their gods in a battle they were about to undertake. The victim was generally some strolling vagabond, who was not aware of his fate till the moment arrived, and he received his death-blow from a club. For the purpose of showing the inhabitants the use of the horses, Captain Cook and Clerke rode into the country, to the great astonishment of the islanders; and though this exercise was continued every day by some of the Resolution’s people, yet the wonder of the natives never abated.

On the return of Omai to the land of his birth, the reception he met with was not very cordial; but the affection of his relatives was strong and ardent. Captain Cook obtained the grant of a piece of land for him on the west side of Owharre harbor, Huaheine. The carpenters of the ships built him a small house, to which a garden was attached, planted with shaddocks, vines, pine apples, melons, etc., and a variety of vegetables; the whole of which were thriving before Captain Cook quitted the island. When the house was finished, the presents Omai had received in England were carried ashore, with every article necessary for domestic purposes, as well as two muskets, a bayonet, a brace of pistols, etc.

The two lads brought from New Zealand were put on shore at this place, to form part of Omai’s family; but it was with great reluctance that they quitted the voyagers, who had behaved so kindly to them.

Whilst lying at Huaheine, a thief, who had caused them great trouble, not only had his head and beard shaved, but, in order to deter others, both his ears were cut off. On the 3d November the ships went to Ulietea, and here, decoyed by the natives, two or three desertions took place; and as others seemed inclined to follow the example, Captain Clerke pursued the fugitives with two armed boats and a party of marines; but without effect. Captain Cook experienced a similar failure: he therefore seized upon the persons of the chief’s son, daughter, and son-in-law, whom he placed under confinement till the people should be restored; which took place on the 28th, and the hostages were released. One of the deserters was a midshipman of the Discovery, and the son of a brave officer in the service. Schemes were projected by some of the natives to assassinate Captain Cook and Captain Clerke; but though in imminent danger, the murderous plans failed.

At Bolabola, Captain Cook succeeded in obtaining an anchor which had been left there by M. Bouganville, as he was very desirous of converting the iron into articles of traffic. They left this place on the 8th December, crossed the line, and on the 24th stopped at a small island, which he named Christmas Island, and where he planted cocoa-nuts, yams, and melon seeds, and left a bottle enclosing a suitable inscription.

On the 2d January, 1778, the ships resumed their voyage northward, to pursue the grand object in Behring’s Straits. They passed several islands, the inhabitants of which, though at an immense distance from Otaheite, spoke the same language. Those who came on board displayed the utmost astonishment at everything they beheld; and it was evident they had never seen a ship before. The disposition to steal was equally strong in these as in the other South Sea islanders, and a man was killed who tried to plunder the watering party; but this was not known to Captain Cook till after they had sailed. They also discovered that the practice of eating human flesh was prevalent. To a group of these islands (and they were generally found in clusters) Captain Cook gave the name of the Sandwich Islands, in honor of the noble earl at the head of the Admiralty.

The voyage to the northward was continued on the 2d February, and the long-looked-for coast of New Albion was made on the 7th March, the ships being then in latitude 44 degrees 83 minutes north; and after sailing along it till the 29th, they came to an anchor in a small cove lying in latitude 49 degrees 29 minutes north. A brisk trade commenced with the natives, who appeared to be well acquainted with the value of iron, for which they exchanged the skins of various animals, such as bears, wolves, foxes, deer, etc., both in their original state and made up into garments. But the most extraordinary articles were human skulls, and hands not quite stripped of the flesh, and which had the appearance of having been recently on the fire. Thieving was practiced at this place in a more scientific manner than they had before remarked; and the natives insisted upon being paid for the wood and other things supplied to the ships; with which Captain Cook scrupulously complied. This inlet was named King George’s Sound; but it was afterwards ascertained that the natives called it Nootka Sound. After making every requisite nautical observation, the ships being again ready for sea on the 26th, in the evening they departed, a severe gale of wind blowing them from the shore. From this period they examined the coast, under a hope of finding some communication with the Polar Sea; and one river they traced as high as latitude 61 degrees 30 minutes north, and which was afterwards named Cook’s River.

They left this place on the 6th June, notwithstanding all their watchfulness and vigilance, no passage could be found. The ships ranged across the mouth of the straits in about latitude 60 degrees, where the natives of the island by their manners, gave evident tokens of their being acquainted with Europeans—​most probably Russian traders. They put in at Oonaalaska and other places, which were taken possession of in the name of the king of England. On the 3d August Mr. Anderson, surgeon of the Resolution, died from a lingering consumption, under which he had been suffering more than twelve months. He was a young man of considerable ability, and he possessed an amiable disposition.

Proceeding to the northward, Captain Cook ascertained the relative position of the two continents, Asia and America, whose extremities he observed. On the 18th they were close to a dense wall of ice, beyond which they could not penetrate, the latitude at this time being 70 degrees 44 minutes north. The ice here was from ten to twelve feet high, and seemed to rise higher in the distance. A prodigious number of sea-horses were crouching on the ice, some of which were procured for food. Captain Cook continued to traverse these icy seas till the 29th; he then explored the coasts in Behring’s Strait both in Asia and America; and on the 2d of October again anchored at Oonalaska to refit; and here they had communication with some Russians, who undertook to convey charts and maps, etc., to the English Admiralty; which they faithfully fulfilled. On the 26th the ships quitted the harbor of Samganoodah, and sailed for the Sandwich Islands; Captain Cook purposing to remain there a few months, and then to return to Kamschatka. In latitude 20 degrees 55 minutes, the island of Mowee was discovered on the 26th of November; and on the 30th they fell in with another, called by the natives Owhyhee; and being of large extent, the ships were occupied nearly seven weeks in sailing round it, and examining the coast; and they found the islanders more frank and free from suspicion than any they had yet had intercourse with; so that on the 16th January 1779, there were not fewer than a thousand canoes about the two ships, most of them crowded with people, and well laden with hogs and other productions of the place. A robbery having been committed, Captain Cook ordered a volley of musketry and four great guns to be fired over the canoe that contained the thief; but this seemed only to astonish the natives, without creating any great alarm. On the 17th the ships anchored in a bay called by the islanders Karakakooa. The natives constantly thronged to the ships, whose decks consequently, being at all times crowded, allowed of pilfering without fear of detection; and these practices, it is conjectured, were encouraged by the chiefs. A great number of the hogs purchased were killed and salted down so completely, that some of it was good at Christmas 1780. On the 26th Captain Cook had an interview with Terreeoboo, king of the island, in which great formality was observed, and an exchange of names. The natives were extremely respectful to Cook; in fact, they paid him a sort of adoration, prostrating themselves before him; and a society of priests furnished the ships with a constant supply of hogs and vegetables, without requiring any return. On the 3d February, the day previous to the ships sailing, the king presented them with an immense quantity of cloth, many boat-loads of vegetables, and a whole herd of hogs. The ships sailed on the following day, but on the 6th encountered a very heavy gale, in which, on the night of the 7th, the Resolution sprung the head of her foremast in such a dangerous manner, that they were forced to put back to Karakakooa Bay in order to get it repaired. Here they anchored on the morning of the 11th, and every thing for a time promised to go well in their intercourse with the natives. The friendliness manifested by the chiefs, however, was far from solid. They were savages at a low point of cultivation, and theft and murder were not considered by them in the light of crimes. Cook, aware of the nature of these barbarians, was anxious to avoid any collision, and it was with no small regret that he found that an affray had taken place betwen some seamen and the natives. The cause of the disturbance was the seizure of the cutter of the Discovery as it lay at anchor. The boats of both ships were sent in search of her, and Captain Cook went on shore to prosecute the inquiry, and if necessary, to seize the person of the king, who had sanctioned the theft.

The narrative of what ensued is affectingly tragical. Cook left the Resolution about seven o’clock, attended by the lieutenant of marines, a sergeant, a corporal, and seven private men. The pinnace’s crew were likewise armed, and under the command of Mr. Roberts; the launch was also ordered to assist his own boat. He landed with the marines at the upper end of the town of Kavoroah, where the natives received him with their accustomed tokens of respect, and not the smallest sign of hostility was evinced by any of them; and as the crowds increased, the chiefs employed themselves as before in keeping order. Captain Cook requested the king to go on board the Resolution with him, to which he offered few objections; but in a little time it was observed that the natives were arming themselves with long spears and daggers, and putting on the thick mats which they used by way of armor. This hostile appearance was increased by the arrival of a canoe from the opposite side of the bay, announcing that one of the chiefs had been killed by a shot from the Discovery’s boat. The women, who had been conversing familiarly with the English, immediately retired, and loud murmurs arose amongst the crowd. Captain Cook perceiving the tumultuous proceedings of the natives, ordered Lieutenant Middleton to march his marines down to the boats, to which the islanders offered no obstruction. The Captain followed with the king, attended by his wife, two sons, and several chiefs. One of the sons had already entered the pinnace, expecting his father to follow, when the king’s wife and others hung round his neck, and forced him to be seated near a double canoe, assuring him that he would be put to death if he went on board the ship.

Whilst matters were in this position, one of the chiefs was seen with a dagger partly concealed under his cloak lurking about Captain Cook, and the lieutenant of marines proposed to fire at him; but this the captain would not permit; but the chief closing upon them, the officer of marines struck him with his firelock. Another native grasping the sergeant’s musket, was forced to let it go by a blow from the lieutenant. Captain Cook, seeing the tumult was increasing, observed, that ‘if he were to force the king off, it could only be done by sacrificing the lives of many of his people;’ and was about to give orders to reëmbark, when a man flung a stone at him, which he returned by discharging small shot from one of the barrels of his piece. The man was but little hurt; and brandishing his spear, with threatenings to hurl it at the captain, the latter, unwilling to fire with ball, knocked the fellow down, and then warmly expostulated with the crowd for their hostile conduct. At this moment a man was observed behind a double canoe in the act of darting a spear at Captain Cook, who promptly fired, but killed another who was standing by his side. The sergeant of marines, however, instantly presented, and brought down the native whom the captain had missed. The impetuosity of the islanders was somewhat repressed; but being pushed on by those in the rear, who were ignorant of what was passing in front, a volley of stones was poured in amongst the marines, who, without waiting for orders, returned it with a general discharge of musketry, which was directly succeeded by a brisk fire from the boats. Captain Cook expressed much surprise and vexation: he waved his hand for the boats to cease firing, and to come on shore to embark the marines. The pinnace unhesitatingly obeyed; but the lieutenant in the launch, instead of pulling in to the assistance of his commander, rowed further off at the very moment that the services of himself and people were most required. Nor was this all the mischief that ensued; for, as it devolved upon the pinnace to receive the marines, she became so crowded, as to render the men incapable of using their firearms. The marines on shore, however, fired; but the moment their pieces were discharged, the islanders rushed en masse upon them, forced the party into the water, where four of them were killed, and the lieutenant wounded. At this critical period Captain Cook was left entirely alone upon a rock near the shore. He, however, hurried towards the pinnace, holding his left arm around the back of his head, to shield it from the stones, and carrying his musket under his right. An islander, armed with a club, was seen in a crouching posture cautiously following him, as if watching for an opportunity to spring forward upon his victim. This man was a relation of the king’s, and remarkably agile and quick. At length he jumped forward upon the captain, and struck him a heavy blow on the back of his head, and then turned and fled. The captain appeared to be somewhat stunned. He staggered a few paces, and, dropping his musket, fell on his hands and one knee; but whilst striving to recover his upright position, another islander rushed forward, and with an iron dagger stabbed him in the neck. He again made an effort to procceed, but fell into a small pool of water not more than knee-deep, and numbers instantly ran to the spot, and endeavored to keep him down; but by his struggles he was enabled to get his head above the surface, and casting a look towards the pinnace (then not more than five or six yards distant), seemed to be imploring assistance. It is asserted that, in consequence of the crowded state of the pinnace (through the withdrawal of the launch) the crew of that boat were unable to render any aid: but it is also probable that the emergency of this unexpected catastrophe deprived the English of that cool judgment which was requisite on such an occasion. The islanders, perceiving that no help was afforded, forced him under water again, but in a deeper place; yet his great muscular power once more enabled him to raise himself and cling to the rock. At this moment a forcible blow was given with a club, and he fell down lifeless. The savages then hauled his corpse upon the rock, and ferociously stabbed the body all over, snatching the dagger from each others’ hands to wreak their sanguinary vengeance on the slain. The body was left some time exposed upon the rock; and as the islanders gave way, through terror at their own act and the fire from the boats, it might have been recovered entire. But no attempt of the kind was made; and it was afterwards, together with the marines, cut up, and the parts distributed amongst the chiefs. The mutilated fragments were subsequently restored, and committed to the deep with all the honors due to the rank of the deceased. Thus (February 14, 1779) perished in an inglorious brawl with a set of savages, one of England’s greatest navigators, whose services to science have never been surpassed by any man belonging to his profession. It may almost be said that he fell a victim to his humanity; for if, instead of retreating before his barbarous pursuers with a view to spare their lives, he had turned revengefully upon them, his fate might have been very different.

The death of their commander was felt to be a heavy blow by the officers and seamen of the expedition. With deep sorrow the ships’ companies left Owhyhee, where the catastrophe had occurred, the command of the Resolution devolving on Captain Clerke, and Mr. Gore acting as commander of the Discovery. After making some further exploratory searches among the Sandwich Islands, the vessels visited Kamschatka, and Behring’s Straits. Here it was found impossible to penetrate through the ice either on the coast of America or that of Asia, so that they returned to the southward; and on the 22d August 1779, Captain Clerke died of Consumption, and was succeeded by Captain Gore, who in his turn gave Lieutenant King an acting order in the Discovery. After a second visit to Kamschatka, the two ships returned by way of China, remained some time at Canton, touched at the Cape, and arrived at the Nore, 4th October 1780, after an absence of four years, two months, and twenty-two days, during which the Resolution lost only five men by sickness, and the Discovery did not lose a single man.

By this, as well as the preceding voyages of Cook, a considerable addition was made to a knowledge of the earth’s surface. Besides clearing up doubts respecting the Southern Ocean, and making known many islands in the Pacific, the navigator did an inestimable service to his country in visiting the coasts of New South Wales, Van Diemen’s Land, New Zealand, and Norfolk Island—​all now colonial possessions of Britain, and which promise at no distant day to become the seat of a large and flourishing nation of Anglo-Australians—​the England of the southern hemisphere.

The intelligence of Captain Cook’s death was received with melancholy regrets in England. The king granted a pension of £200 per annum to his widow, and £25 per annum to each of the children; The Royal Society had a gold medal struck in commemoration of him; and various other honors at home and abroad were paid to his memory. ‘Thus, by his own persevering efforts,’ as has been well observed by the author of the Pursuit of Knowledge Under Difficulties, ‘did this great man raise himself from the lowest obscurity to a reputation wide as the world itself, and certain to last as long as the age in which he flourished shall be remembered by history.’ But better still than even all this fame—​than either the honors which he received while living, or those which, when he was no more, his country and mankind bestowed upon his memory—​he had exalted himself in the scale of moral and intellectual being; had won for himself, by his unwearied striving, a new and nobler nature, and taken a high place among the instructors and best benefactors of mankind.

This voyage was undertaken for the purposes of commerce; principally, indeed, for the fur-trade, on the north-west coast of America, which had been strongly recommended by Captains Cook and King in their last voyage. Two vessels were fitted out for this purpose, the King George and Queen Charlotte, by a society of merchants and others, the former commanded by Nathaniel Portlock, the latter by George Dixon, both of whom had been with Captain Cook; the King George having sixty men, the Queen Charlotte thirty.

September 20th, 1785, they quitted St. Helens, and, proceeding to Guernsey, left it on the 25th. October 16th saw the Canary Islands, and 24th the Cape de Verde group, anchoring for a short time in Port Praya Bay, in St. Jago. Proceeding south, they anchored in Port Egmont, Falkland’s Islands, January 5th, 1786, where, taking in water, they made sail for States Bay, in Terra del Fuego. Having made a good offing from Cape Horn, they had tolerable weather; and continuing their route without touching at any place, or meeting any thing worthy of notice, dropped anchor 26th May in Karakooa Bay, in Owhyhee, Sandwich Islands.

The natives crowded them very much, bartering a variety of articles; but were nevertheless extremely troublesome. It was the general opinion, that it would be impossible to water the vessels without a strong guard, which they could not well spare; while the people were probably jealous that these vessels had come to revenge the death of Captain Cook. Next day they stood out of the bay, lying-to three leagues off, to carry on trade for hogs, plantains, etc. etc., which proved so serviceable that the sick, of whom there were several, began rapidly to recover. June 1st anchored in a bay in Woahoo, another of the islands, and were received civilly by the inhabitants. They now stood for another of the islands, named Oneehow; and, on the 8th, anchored in Yam Bay, where supplies of fruit, vegetables, and pigs, were willingly afforded by the principal chief Abbenooe, who seemed strongly their friend, from recollecting Captain Portlock along with Cook. They took leave of him, with regret, on the 13th, standing for the coast of America.

July 19th made the entrance of Cook’s River; and, while looking for good anchorage, were astonished by the report of a great gun; when, soon afterwards, a party of Russians came on board, attended by some Indians; but none understanding the language of either, no satisfactory information could be gained from them. Most of the natives had fled from their huts, alarmed perhaps by the Russians; several bears were seen, but none near enough to fire at. Two veins of kennel-coal were found, which burned very well, and the place was, therefore, called Coal Harbor. An elderly chief paying Captain Dixon a visit, informed him that they had a battle with the Russians, in which the latter were worsted, and added, that from the difference of dress, he knew they were of a different nation.

Quitting this place, they tried for some time to get into Prince William’s Sound; but, by a series of unfavorable winds, failed in this pursuit. September 23d, they stood away for the Sandwich Islands to pass the winter, and return in the spring. November 14th saw the summit of the high mountain in Owhyhee covered with snow, and employed two or three following days in coasting it, the natives bringing off a variety of articles to barter for iron and trinkets. The first mate of the King George reporting, that a bay they intended to anchor in did not admit of good anchorage, this design was dropped. During the time they lay to, hogs, fowls, wild-geese, bread-fruit, plantains, and several other things were procured in considerable quantities; the natives dealing pretty fairly, but committing a variety of thefts, even before their faces, with a dexterity almost inimitable. For several days they continued lying to off the islands of Mowee and Morotoi, procuring refreshments and receiving visits till the 30th, when both ships bore away for King George’s Bay, in Whoaboo, where they anchored in safety, after experiencing a variety of winds from all points of the compass.

Here they found every thing tabooed, or forbidden, so that it became necessary to court the king’s favor; for which purpose a present was sent to him, and another to a priest, their acquaintance on the former occasion, who paid them a visit, handing up a fig and plantain, which in these islands are signs of friendship. This was soon followed by a visit from Taheeterre, the king, followed by all the chiefs, who took off the taboo. The priest was remarkable for drinking large quantities of the ava, or yava-juice, for which he had two men in constant attendance chewing the root, which, with their spittle, forms this singular and (to us) nauseous beverage. The yava is a root resembling liquorice in shape and color. None but the chiefs and priests have permission to use it, and these are never at the trouble of chewing it themselves; but, as above observed, employ servants; these begin with chewing a sufficient quantity, and when well masticated, it is put into a wooden bowl kept for the purpose, to which a small quantity of water is added; the whole is then strained through a cloth, and, like wine in Europe, it thus forms not merely the drink, but the delight of all parties, feasts, rejoicings, and, in short, every public assemblage of the leading people. Its effects, however, are very pernicious; it is partly intoxicating or rather stupifying; and, by its constant use, the old priest was exceedingly debilitated, and his body covered with a white scurf, resembling leprosy, which is a common symptom throughout the South Sea islands of its frequent use.

The taboo was again put on without any explanation being given, though several canoes nevertheless came off, but without any women, as had been formerly the case. Afterwards it was understood that one of them had been detected in the King George eating pork, which being a heinous offense, she was taken as soon as she came on shore, and offered a sacrifice to the gods: human sacrifices, it appears, are here, as in most parts of the South Sea islands, frequently presented, and it is unquestionably the most inhuman and barbarous custom among them.

December 19th weighed, and two days afterwards anchored between Attoui and Wyema, where, after paying and receiving some visits, their former friend Abbenooe came on board with two canoes loaded with provisions, and remained for two or three days, seemingly very well pleased with his new abode. The king also made his appearance; he was stout and well made, about forty-five years of age, and possessed of more understanding and good nature than any of his subjects. January 5th caught a shark in the King George, thirteen and a half feet long, eight and a half broad, and six feet in the liver; forty-eight young ones in her, about eight inches each in length; two whole turtles of sixty pounds each; several small pigs, and a quantity of bones; so that the numbers and the voracity of this fish may be conceived. From this time to the 10th they were employed in purchasing wood, water, provisions, curiosities, and every thing else they wanted; and now, quitting the anchorage, proceeded to yam Bay, in Oneehow, where, after making a few excursions, they departed once more for Wymoa Bay, Attoui.

On the 3d March weighed, and made sail for the coast of America, and on the 24th April saw Montager Island, coming to anchor in the harbor, where there is sufficient shelter from the prevailing winds. The weather continued very variable, several unsuccessful attempts being made to get into Prince William’s Sound, and only a single straggling inhabitant being seen now and then, so that there was no opportunity to trade.

Captain Dixon now made an excursion in his boats up the Sound, and receiving some hints from the natives of a vessel being there, continued his search for several days, and at length got on board a vessel called the Nootka, from Bengal, commanded by Mr. Meares, which had wintered in Snug-corner Cove. The scurvy had made dreadful havoc among them, nearly all the officers and many of the crew having died of this frightful disorder, so that at length the Captain was the only person on board able to walk the deck. Along with his first mate he soon afterwards visited the ships, met with a hearty reception, and received such assistance as he wanted and as the others could afford. From him they learned that few or no furs could be obtained here; that several vessels from India had been already on this coast for the purposes of trade; and that two or three were expected next month in the same pursuit, which immediately determined our voyagers to separate and push for different parts of the coast, in order to be before their expected rivals; the Queen Charlotte to proceed to King George’s Sound, and Messrs. Hayward and Hill to Cook’s River in the King George’s long-boat, the latter to remain where she was for the present.

On the 13th May several canoes visited them, in one of which was a chief of great consequence, named Sheenaawa, whose party, like most others, were determined thieves, exerting their ingenuity and tricks for this purpose in an extraordinary degree. They danced, sung, laughed, and diverted the attention of the seamen in every possible way, while slyly their hands were seizing every thing on the decks, so that literally they were smiling in their faces and robbing them at the same time. In the meantime the Queen Charlotte and the long-boat sailed, while the King George shifted to Hinchinbroke Cove. Some of the boats were sent out to trade, which were tolerably successful; but they also suffered from continual thefts, which were sometimes accompanied by menaces, if they attempted to resist the plunderers.

June 9th the Nootka left her former anchorage, where she had been frozen in, and came close to the King George, when the crew of the latter were partly employed in rendering her assistance. Two days afterwards the long-boat returned from Cook’s River with a very good cargo, and was again sent off with orders to return by the 20th of July. On the 19th the Nootka sailed. Next day the surgeon took the invalids on shore for an excursion, who, by the use of spruce-beer, which they now brewed in abundance, were rapidly recovering. In the evening observed two Indian boats and several canoes, in which were about twenty-five natives, who came alongside next morning. Their chief, named Taatucktellingnake, was paralytic on one side, had a long beard, and seemed about sixty years of age; his country was called Cheeneecock, situated towards the south-west part of the Sound. July 11th hauled the seine frequently, when not less than two thousand salmon were caught at each haul; and so great were their numbers, that ships prepared for the purpose might have obtained any quantity they wished. The long-boat returned on the 21st, though without so much success as formerly. On the 26th sailed from this place. The natives in general are short in stature, with flat faces and noses, ill-formed legs, but good teeth and eyes; they wear their hair, which is black and straight, very long, but cut it short on the death of a relation, this seeming their only method of mourning. They are attentive to their women, but jealous of them. Their thieving habits seem fixed, the most dexterous being most in esteem, and receiving the greatest applause for the exertion of his talents; he is also distinguished by a fantastical dress, which, while it excites the notice of the spectators, gives the owner additional opportunities of exerting his fingers at their expense.

By the 3d of August had made little progress, from the shifting of the wind. On the 8th, two large boats visited them, with twenty-five men, women, and children on, board, who, very different from their other visitors, seemed very honest, and who were invited to dinner in the cabin, when they relished the English cookery so well, that the dishes were quickly obliged to be replenished. These departed in the evening well pleased with their entertainment, promising to return with the means of trading with their new friends.

On the 11th a new tribe visited them from the eastward, with about the same number of persons as the last; four days after the long-boat returned, having had pretty good success, notwithstanding some acts of hostility which they had been compelled to retaliate upon the Indians. Another party, from the north-west, were extremely addicted to thieving, nothing could escape them; and, when detected, were very impudent, and often threatened those they robbed. The men were of the size of Europeans, of a fierce and savage aspect, using daggers and long spears, easily provoked and ready to indulge their anger.

August 22d weighed and made sail from this coast, having done as much as it seemed likely they could do in the way of trade. September 28th made Owhyhee, the principal of the Sandwich group, when several canoes came off, with whom a brisk trade for hogs and other refreshments was carried on. At Attoui they found the Nootka and Queen Charlotte had been there and left letters for the King George. After procuring what necessaries they wanted, Captain Portlock directed his course for China with his cargo of furs; on the 4th November saw Saypan and Tinian, two of the Ladrone Islands; and on the 21st anchored in Macao Roads, where Captain Dixon was found, whose transactions shall now be noticed.

After separating, the Queen Charlotte coasted it for some time, till, seeing an appearance of an inlet, a boat was despatched which found an excellent harbor, where she soon after anchored. Several canoes came off, from whom some skins were procured, but by no means so many as they had at first reason to expect. The number of inhabitants was about seventy; the harbor, which is good, was named Port Mulgrave, and is situated in 59 degrees 32 minutes north latitude; 140 degrees west longitude. The language of these people is quite different from that of Prince William’s Sound, or Cook’s River, being extremely uncouth and difficult to pronounce. The mode in which they dispose of their dead is remarkable; the head is separated from the body, and both are wrapped in furs, the former being put into a box, the latter into an oblong chest, which are afterwards preserved and disposed of in a fanciful way.

June 4th quitted this place, and kept beating to the southward; a harbor was perceived at a distance, which, upon examination by the boats, was found to extend to a considerable distance, with a number of coves here and there, very well calculated for anchorage; it was named Norfolk Sound. The people were at first civil and well-behaved; but soon became troublesome and thievish, like almost all their brethren on this coast. Trade here was not very brisk. July 1st saw an island, and were soon surrounded by Indians, who, after gratifying their curiosity in examining the vessel, began to trade, and soon parted with all their skins. Several fresh tribes visited them almost daily, who, delighted with European articles of barter, were content to leave their furs behind in exchange. The residence of one was strongly fortified, resembling a nippah or fortified place, in New Zealand; and, from some circumstances which transpired, Dixon was tempted also to believe they were also like the New Zealanders, cannibals. Proceeding to the eastward, eleven canoes came alongside on the 24th with one hundred and eighty persons; but curiosity was the prevailing motive, as they had nothing to sell; and, five days after, no less than two hundred men, women, and children, in eighteen canoes, came off to indulge their curiosity; a number that, on this coast, is rarely found in one community. Their chief had the most savage aspect of any yet seen, his whole appearance sufficiently marking him as the leader of a tribe of cannibals. His stature was above the common size, his body spare and thin, and, though seemingly lank and emaciated, his step was bold and firm, his limbs strong and muscular; his eyes, which were large and goggling, seemed ready to start from their sockets; his forehead deeply wrinkled, as well by age as an habitual frown, which, joined to a long visage, hollow cheeks, high cheek-bones, and natural ferocity of temper, rendered him a most formidable figure.

August 8th, made sail for the Sandwich Islands. September 2d made Owhyhee, and, after procuring refreshments, stood on for Whahoo, being visited the next day by Abbenooe and the king, by whose commands they received abundant supplies of wood, water, and provisions, of which they were in extreme want, several of the crew being nearly dead with the scurvy. Attoui was their next destination, where the chiefs inquired particularly after their friend Po-pote (Captain Portlocke,) and were desirous of contributing all in their power to the assistance of the ship, every one supplying the Captain with a liberality as unbounded as it was unexpected, but which did not go unrewarded; saws, hatchets, nails, and other iron instruments being given to the men, and buttons, beads, and a variety of ornaments to the women.

September 18th made sail for China, and anchored in Macao Roads the 9th November, where being joined as already noticed, by the King George, their meeting was extremely agreeable. Captain Portlock was very much surprised in Canton with his old friend Tiaana, from the Sandwich Islands, who was no less pleased at seeing him, embracing the Captain in the most cordial and affectionate manner.

During his stay, Tiaana was introduced to every place worthy of notice; he was usually dressed in a cloak and fine feather cap, and, to show that he was a person of consequence, carried a spear in his hand. Afterwards, at the persuasion of Mr. Ross, he wore a light satin waistcoat and a pair of trousers. He frequently attended places of public worship, behaving with the greatest decorum, and joining the congregation in the ceremonies of kneeling or standing, as if he had been all his life regularly accustomed to them. Some of the customs of the Chinese displeased him exceedingly, and, during the voyage, was nearly throwing the pilot overboard for some real or imaginary offense; he was, however, of a kind disposition, displaying frequent instances of humanity as well as generosity. Being once at an entertainment, given by one of the Captains at Macao, his compassion was strongly excited after dinner by seeing a number of poor people, in Sampans, crowding round the vessel and asking alms; he solicited his host’s permission to give them some food, remarking it was a great shame to let poor people want victuals, and that in his country there were no beggars. In compliance with his importunities, the broken meat was collected under his care, and he distributed it in the most equal and impartial manner. Tiaana was six feet two inches high, exceedingly well-made, but inclined to corpulency; he had a pleasing animated countenance, fine eyes, and otherwise expressive as well as agreeable features. He was universally liked, and, previous to his departure for Attoui, the gentlemen at Canton furnished him with bulls, cows, sheep, goats, rabbits, turkeys, etc. etc., besides all kinds of seeds which could be useful in his island, with directions how to rear and propagate them. The best skins of their cargoes were disposed of to the East India Company for fifty thousand dollars, while the inferior ones were sold to the Chinese, both vessels receiving in return cargoes of tea. February 6th, 1788, weighed and made sail down the river, quitting Macao finally a day or two afterwards. On the 20th saw the island of Pulo Sapata, four leagues distant; and, 25th, the islands of Aramba; three days afterwards Mr. Lander, surgeon of the Queen Charlotte, died, having been ill for some time, and attended by his brother surgeon, Mr. Hoggan, of the King George. On the 30th of March the ships agreed to separate, and make the best of their way to St. Helena, where the King George arrived the 13th June, and the Queen Charlotte on the 18th. The former at length reached England, without any occurrence worthy of remark, on the 22d August; and the latter the 17th September. Nor was the voyage unfortunate; for though no great gain was made, yet nothing was lost, which, in a new commercial speculation, is not an uncommon occurrence.

France becoming jealous of the renown acquired by the English circumnavigators, determined to send out an expedition, which, in its scientific equipments, should vie with them in every respect. Two ships were appointed to this service, the Boussole and Astrolabe, the former commanded by La Perouse, the latter by M. de Langle, both captains in the navy, and men of considerable attainments, besides being assisted by men of science and artists. The voyage is interesting as far as it goes; but, unfortunately, the ships, after quitting Botany Bay, in 1788, have never since been heard of, to the regret of all lovers of science and humanity, on account not only of the acquirements but amiable character of the commanders.

On the first of August, 1785, they quitted Brest, and, on the 13th, reached Madeira; they saw Teneriffe on the 19th, and on the 16th of October, the island of Trinidada, barren, rocky, and with a violent surf breaking on the shores, where refreshments not being obtainable, the commander steered for St. Catharine’s on the Brazil coast.

This island is extremely fertile, producing all sorts of fruit, vegetables, and corn, almost spontaneously. It is covered with trees of everlasting green, but they are so curiously interwoven with plants and briars, that it is impossible to pass through the forests without opening a path with a hatchet; to add to the difficulty, danger is also to be apprehended from snakes whose bite is mortal. The habitations are bordering on the sea. The woods are delightfully fragrant, occasioned by the orange-trees, and other odoriferous plants and shrubs, which form a part of them.

On the 14th of January the navigators struck ground on the coast of Patagonia. On the 25th, La Perouse took bearings a league to the southward of Cape San Diego forming the west point of the straits of Lemaire. On the 9th of February, he was abreast of the straits of Magellan. Examining the quantity of provisions he had on board, La Perouse discovered he had very little flour and bread left in store; having been obliged to leave a hundred barrels at Brest. The worms had also taken possession of the biscuits, and consumed or rendered useless a fifth part of them. Under these circumstances, La Perouse preferred Conception to the island of Juan Fernandez. The Bay of Conception in Chili is a most excellent harbor; the water is smooth, and almost without any current, though the tide rises six feet three inches.

At daybreak, on the 15th of March, La Perouse made the signal to prepare to sail. On the 17th, about noon, a light breeze sprung up, with which he got under way. On the 8th of April, about noon, they saw Easter Island. The Indians were alarmed, except a few who had a kind of slight wooden club. Some of them assumed an apparent superiority over the others, which induced La Perouse to consider the former as chiefs, but he soon discovered that these selected persons were the most notorious offenders. Having but a few hours to remain upon the island, and wishing to employ his time to the best advantage, La Perouse left the care of the tent, and other particulars, to his first lieutenant M. d’Escures. A division was then made of the persons engaged in the Adventure; one part, under the command of M. de Langle, was to penetrate into the interior of the island to encourage and promote vegetation, by disseminating seed, etc., in a proper soil; and the other division undertook to visit the monuments, plantations, and habitations, within the compass of a league of the establishment. The largest of the rude busts upon one of the terraces is fourteen feet six inches in height, and the breadth and other particulars appeared to be proportionate.

Returning about noon to the tent, La Perouse found almost every man without hat or handkerchief; so much had forbearance encouraged the audacity of the thieves, that he also experienced a similar depredation. An Indian, who had assisted him in descending from a terrace, rewarded himself for his trouble by taking away his hat. Some of them had dived under water, cut the small cable of the Astrolabe’s boat, and taken away her grapnel. A sort of chief, to whom M. de Langle made a present of a male and female goat, received the animals with one hand, and robbed him of his handkerchief with the other.

On the 28th of May, they saw the mountains of Owhyhee, covered with snow, and afterwards those of Mowee, which are less elevated. About one hundred and fifty canoes were seen putting off from the shore, laden with fruit and hogs, which the Indians proposed to exchange for pieces of iron of the French navigators. Most of them came on board of one or the other of the vessels, but they proceeded so fast through the water that they filled along-side. The Indians were obliged to quit the ropes thrown them, and leaping into the sea, swam after their hogs, when taking them in their arms, they emptied their canoes of the water, and resumed their seats.

After having visited a village, M. de Langle gave orders that six soldiers, with a sergeant, should accompany him: the others were left upon the beach, under the command of M. de Pierrevert, the lieutenant; to them was committed the protection of the ship’s boats, from which not a single sailor had landed. The party reëmbarked at eleven o’clock in very good order, and arrived on board about noon, where M. de Clonard had received a visit from a chief, of whom he had purchased a cloak, and a helmet adorned with red feathers; he had also purchased a hundred hogs, a quantity of potatoes and bananas, plenty of stuffs, mats, and various other articles. On their arrival on board, the two frigates dragged their anchors; it blew fresh from the south-east, and they were driving down upon the island of Morokinne, which was, however, at a sufficient distance to give them time to hoist in their boats. La Perouse made the signal for weighing, but before they could purchase the anchor, he was obliged to make sail, and drag it till he had passed Morokinne, to hinder him from driving past the channel.

A fair wind accompanied the navigators on their departure from the Sandwich Islands. Whales and wild geese convinced them that they were approaching land. Early in the morning of the 23d they descried it; a sudden dispersion of the fog opened to them the view of a long chain of mountains covered with snow. They distinguished Behring’s Mount St. Elias, on the north-west coast of America. Having taken in as much wood and water as was required, the navigators esteemed themselves the most fortunate of men, in having arrived at such a distance from Europe without having a sick person among them, or any one afflicted with the scurvy; but a lamentable misfortune now awaited them. At the entrance of this harbor perished twenty brave seamen, in two boats, by the surf. On the 30th of July, at four in the afternoon, La Perouse got under way. This bay or harbor, to which he gave the name of Port des Français, is situated in 58 deg. 37 min. north latitude, and 139 deg. 50 min. west longitude. In different excursions, he says, he found the high-water mark to be fifteen feet above the surface of the sea. The climate of this coast is infinitely milder than that of Hudson’s Bay, in the same degree of latitude. Pines were seen of six feet in diameter, and one hundred and forty feet in height. Vegetation is vigorous during three or four months of the year. The men wear different small ornaments, pendant from the ears and nose, scarify their arms and breasts, and file their teeth close to their gums, using, for the last operation, a sand-stone, formed into a particular shape. They paint the face and body with soot, ochre, and plumbago, mixed with train-oil, making themselves most horrid figures. When completely dressed, their flowing hair is powdered, and plaited with the down of sea-birds; but, perhaps, only the chiefs of certain distinguished families are thus decorated. Their shoulders are covered with a skin, and on the head, is generally worn a little straw hat, plaited with great taste and ingenuity. Sometimes, indeed, the head is decorated with two horned bonnets of eagles’ feathers. Their head-dresses are extremely various, the grand object in view being only to render themselves terrible, that they may keep their enemies in awe. Some Indians have skirts of otters’ skins. A great chief wore a skirt composed of a tanned skin of the elk, bordered by a fringe of beaks of birds, which, when dancing, imitated the noise of a bell; a common dress among the savages of Canada, and other nations in the eastern parts of America. The passion of these Indians for gaming is astonishing, and they pursue it with great avidity. The sort of play to which they are most devoted, is a certain game of chance; out of thirty pieces of wood, each distinctly marked like the French dice, they hide seven: each plays in succession, and he who guesses nearest to the whole number marked upon the seven is the winner of the stake, which is usually a hatchet or a piece of iron.

At length, after a very long run, on the 11th of September, at three in the afternoon, the navigators got sight of Fort Monterey, and two three-masted vessels which lay in the road. The commander of these two ships having been informed, by the viceroy of Mexico, of the probable arrival of the two French frigates, sent them pilots in the course of the night. Loretto, the only presidency of Old California, is situated on the east coast of this peninsula and has a garrison of fifty-four troopers, who furnish detachments to fifteen missions; the duties of which are performed by Dominican friars. About four thousand Indians, converted and residing in these fifteen parishes, are the sole produce of the long labors of the different religious orders which have succeeded each other. A small navy was established by the Spanish government in this port, under the orders of the viceroy of Mexico, consisting of four corvettes of twelve guns, and one goletta. They are destined to supply with necessaries the presidencies of North California; and they are sometimes despatched as packet-boats to Manilla, when the orders of the court require the utmost expedition.

The company were received with all possible politeness and respect; the president of the missions, in his sacerdotal vestment, with the holy water in hand, waited to receive them at the entrance of the church, which was splendidly illuminated as on their highest festivals: he then conducted them to the foot of the high altar, where Te Deum was sung in thanksgivings for their arrival. Before they entered the church they passed a range of Indians: the parish church, though covered with straw, is neat, and decorated with paintings, copied from Italian originals. The Indians, as well as the missionaries, rise with the sun, and devote an hour to prayers and mass, during which time a species of boiled food is prepared for them: it consists of barley meal, the grain of which has been roasted previous to its being boiled. It is cooked in the centre of the square, in three large kettles. This repast is called atole by the Indians, who consider it as delicious: it is destitute of salt and butter, and must consequently be insipid. The women have little more to attend to than their housewifery, their children, and the roasting and grinding of several grains: the latter operation is long and laborious, as they employ no other means than that of crushing it in pieces with a cylinder upon a stone.

The Indians of the rancheries, or independent villages, are accustomed to paint their bodies red and black, when they are in mourning; but the missionaries have prohibited the former, though they tolerate the latter, these people being singularly attached to their friends. The ties of family are less regarded among them than those of friendship: the children show no filial respect to the father, having been obliged to quit his cabin as soon as they were able to procure their own subsistence.

A Spanish commissary at Monterey, named M. Vincent Vassadre y Vega, brought orders to the governor to collect all the otter-skins of his missions and presidencies, government having reserved to itself the exclusive commerce of them; and M. Fages assured La Perouse that he could annually furnish twenty thousand of them. The Spaniards were ignorant of the importance of this valuable peltry till the publication of the voyages of Captain Cook; that excellent man has navigated for the general benefit of every nation; his own enjoys only the glory of the enterprise, and that of having given him birth.

New California, though extremely fertile, cannot boast of having a single settler; a few soldiers, married to Indian women, who dwell in the forts, or who are dispersed among the different missions, constituting the whole Spanish nation in this district of America. The Franciscan missionaries are principally Europeans; they have a convent in Mexico.

On the evening of the 22d every thing was on board, and leave had been taken of the governor and missionaries. On the morning of the 24th they sailed. On the 3d of November the frigates were surrounded with noddies, terns, and man-of-war birds; and on the 4th they made an island which bore west. This small island is little more than a rock of about five hundred toises in length. La Perouse named it Isle Necker. About an hour past one in the morning La Perouse saw breakers at two cables’ length ahead of the ship; the sea being so smooth, the sound of them was hardly heard; the Astrolabe perceived them at the same time, though at a greater distance than the Boussole; both frigates instantly hauled, with their heads to the south-east; La Perouse gave orders for sounding; they had nine fathoms rocky bottom; soon after ten and twelve fathoms, and in a quarter of an hour got no ground with sixty fathoms. They just escaped the most imminent danger to which navigators can be exposed.

The island of Assumption, to which the Jesuits have attributed six leagues of circumference, from the angles now taken, was reduced to half, and the highest point is about two hundred toises above the level of the sea. A more horrid place cannot be conceived. It was a perfect cone, as black as a coal, and very mortifying to behold, after having enjoyed, in imagination, the cocoa-nuts and turtles expected to be found in some one of the Marianne Islands. Having determined the position, he continued his course towards China; and on the 1st of January 1787, found bottom in sixty fathoms; a number of fishing-boats surrounded him the next day. On the 2d of January our navigators made the White Rock. In the evening they anchored to the north-ward of Ling-sing Island, and the following day in Macao Road. Macao, situated at the mouth of the Tigris, is capable of receiving a sixty-four gun-ship into its road, at the entrance of the Typa; and in its port, below the city, ships of seven hundred tons half laden.

The climate of the road of Typa is, at this season of the year, precarious; most of the crews were afflicted with colds, accompanied with a fever; which yielded to the salutary temperature of the island of Luconia, when they approached it on the 15th of February. Wanting wood, which he knew was dear at Manilla, La Perouse came to a resolution of remaining twenty-four hours at Marivella to procure some, and early the next morning all the carpenters of the two frigates were sent on shore with the long boats; the rest of the ship’s company, with the yawl, were reserved for a fishing-party; but they were unsuccessful, as they found nothing but rocks and very shallow water.

On the 28th the navigators came to an anchor in the port of Cavite, in three fathoms, at two cables’ length from the town. Cavite, situated three leagues to the south-west of Manilla, was formely a place of importance. Manilla is erected on the Bay which also bears its name, and lies at the mouth of a river, being one of the finest situations in the world: all the necessaries of life may be procured there in abundance, and on reasonable terms; but the cloths, and other manufactures of Europe, are extravagantly dear. La Perouse confidently asserts, that a great nation, without any other colony than the Philippines, which would establish a proper government there, might view all the European settlements in Africa and America without envy or regret. These islands contain about 3,000,000 of inhabitants, and that of Luconia consists of about a third of them. These people seem not inferior to Europeans; they cultivate the land with skill, and among them have ingenious goldsmiths, carpenters, joiners, masons, blacksmiths, etc. La Perouse says he has visited them at their villages, and found them affable, hospitable, and honest.

On the 9th of April, according to the French reckoning, and the 10th as the Manillese reckon, our navigators sailed and got to the northward of the island of Luconia. On the 21st they made the island of Formosa; and experienced, in the channel which divides it from that of Luconia, some very violent currents. On the 22d they set Lamy Island, at the south-west point of Formosa, about three leagues distant. The tack they then stood on conveyed them upon the coast of Formosa, near the entrance of the bay of Old Fort Zealand, where the city of Taywan, the capital of that island, is seated.

The whole of the next day a dead calm occurred, in mid channel, between the Bashee Islands, and those of Botol Tabacoxima. It is probable that vessels might provide themselves in this island with provision, wood, and water. La Perouse preserved the name of Kumi Island, which Father Gambil gives it in his chart. In the night of the 25th our navigators passed the strait of Corea, sounding very frequently, and as this coast appeared more eligible to follow than that of Japan, they approached within two leagues of it, and shaped a course parallel to its direction. On the 27th they made the signal to bear up, and steer east, and soon perceived, in the north-north-east, an Island not laid down upon any chart, at the distance of about twenty leagues from the coast of Corea. He named it Isle Dagelet, from the name of the astronomer who first discovered it. The circumference is about three leagues.

On the 30th of May, La Perouse shaped his course east towards Japan, and on the 2d of June saw two Japanese vessels, one of which passed within hail of him. It had a crew of twenty men, all habited in blue cassocks. This vessel was about one hundred tons burden, and had a single high mast stepped in the middle. The Astrolabe hailed her as she passed, but neither the question nor the answer was comprehended. At different times of the day seven Chinese vessels of a smaller construction were seen, which were better calculated to encounter bad weather.

During the seventy-five days since our navigators sailed from Manilla, they had run along the coasts of Quelpert Island, Corea, and Japan; but as these countries were inhabited by people inhospitable to strangers, they did not attempt to visit them. They were extremely impatient to reconnoitre this land, and it was the only part of the globe which had escaped the activity of Captain Cook. The geographers who had drawn the strait of Tessoy erroneously determined the limits of Jesso, of the Company’s land, and of Staten Island; it, therefore, became necessary to terminate the ancient discussions by indisputable facts. The latitude of Baie de Ternai was the same as that of Port Acqueis, though the description of it is very different. The plants which France produces carpeted the whole of this soil. Roses, lilies, and all European meadow-flowers were beheld at every step. Pine-trees embellished the tops of the mountains; and oaks, gradually diminishing in strength and size towards the sea, adorned the less elevated parts. Traces of men were frequently perceived by the havoc they had made. By these, and many other corroborating circumstances, the navigators were clearly of opinion, that the Tartars approach the borders of the sea, when invited thither by the season for fishing and hunting; that they assemble for these purposes along the rivers, and that the mass of people reside in the interior of the country, to attend to the multiplication of their flocks and herds. M. de Lange, with several other officers who had a passion for hunting, endeavored to pursue their sport, but without success, yet they imagined that by silence, perseverance, and posting themselves in ambush in the passes of the stags and bears, they might be able to procure some of them. This plan was determined on for the next day, but, with all their address and management it proved abortive. It was therefore generally acknowledged that fishing presented the greatest prospect of success. Each of the five creeks in the Baie de Ternai afforded a proper place for hauling the seine, and was rendered more convenient by a rivulet, near which they established their kitchen. They caught plenty of trout, salmon, cod-fish, harp-fish, plaice, and herrings.

At eight in the morning of the 7th, he made an island which seemed of great extent; he supposed, at first, that this was Segalien Island, the south part of which some geographers had placed two degrees too far to the northward. The aspect of this land was extremely different from that of Tartary; nothing was to be seen but barren rocks, the cavities of which retained the snow. To the highest of the mountains La Perouse gave the appellation of Peak Lamanon. M. de Lange, who had come to anchor, came instantly on board his ship, having already hoisted out his long boat and small boats. He submitted to La Perouse whether it would not be proper to land before night, in order to reconnoitre the country, and gather some necessary information from the inhabitants. By the assistance of their glasses, they perceived some cabins, and two of the islanders hastening towards the woods.

Our navigators were successful in making the natives comprehend that they requested a description of their country, and that of the Mantchous; one of the old sages rose up, and, with great perspicuity pointed out the most essential and interesting particulars with the end of his staff. His sagacity in guessing the meaning of the questions proposed to him was astonishing, though, in this particular, he was surpassed by another islander of about thirty years of age. The last-mentioned native informed our navigators that they had a commercial intercourse with the people who inhabit the banks of Segalien river, and he distinctly marked, by strokes of a pencil, the number of days it required for a canoe to sail up the river to the respective places of their general traffic. The bay in which they lay at anchor was named Baie de Langle, as Captain de Langle was the first who discovered it, and first landed on its shore. They spent the remainder of the day in visiting the country and its inhabitants. They were surprised to find among a people composed of hunters and fishermen, who were strangers to the cultivation of the earth, and without flocks or herds, such gentle manners, and such a superiority of intellect. The attention of the inhabitants of the Baie de Langle was attracted by the arts and manufactures of the French, they judiciously examined them, and debated among themselves the manner of fabricating the several articles. They were not unacquainted with the weaver’s shuttle. A loom of their construction was carried to France, by which it appeared that their methods of making linens was similar to that of the Europeans; but the thread of it is formed of the bark of the willow-tree. Though they do not cultivate the soil, they convert the spontaneous produce of it to the most useful and necessary purposes.

At daybreak, on the 4th of July, La Perouse made the signal for getting under way; early on the 19th, he saw the land of an island from north-east-by-north, as far as east-south-east, but so thick a fog prevailed that none of the points could be particularly discovered. The bay, which is the best in which he had anchored since his departure from Manilla, he named Baie d. Estaing. M. de Langle, who first landed in the island, found the islanders assembled round three or four canoes, laden with smoked fish: he was there informed that the men who composed the crews of the canoes were Mantchous, and had quitted the banks of the Segalien river to become purchasers of these fish. In the corner of the island, within a kind of circus planted with stakes, each surmounted with the head of a bear, the bones of animals lay scattered. As these people use no firearms, but engage the bears in close combat, their arrows being only capable of wounding them, this circus might probably be intended to perpetuate the memory of certain great exploits. Having entertained conjectures relative to the proximity of the Coast of Tartarty, La Perouse at length discovered that his conjectures were well-founded; for when the horizon became a little more extensive, he saw it perfectly. In the evening of the 22d he came to anchor in thirty-seven fathoms, about a league from land. He was then abreast of a small river, to the northward of which he saw a remarkable peak; its base is on the shore, and its summit on all sides preserves a regular form. La Perouse bestowed on it the title of Peak la Martiniere.

On the 28th, in the evening, our navigators were at the opening of a bay which presented a safe and convenient anchorage. M. de Langle reported to La Perouse that there was excellent shelter behind four islands; he had landed at a village of Tartars, where he was kindly received, and where he discovered a watering place abounding with the most limpid element. From M. de Langle’s report, La Perouse gave orders to prepare for anchoring in the bottom of the bay, which was named Baie de Castris.

In this bay the French navigators first discovered the use of the circle of lead or bone, which these people, and the inhabitants of Segalien Island, wear on the thumb like a ring; it greatly assists them in cutting and stripping the salmon with a knife, which is always hanging to their girdle. Their village was built upon low marshy land, which must doubtless be uninhabitable during the winter, but on the opposite side of the gulf, another village appeared on a more elevated situation. It was seated at the entrance of a wood, and contained eight cabins, larger and better constructed than the first. Not far from these cabins, they visited three yourts, or subterranean houses. They were sufficiently capacious to accommodate the inhabitants of the whole eight cabins during the severity of the inclement season. On the borders of this village several tombs presented themselves, which were larger and more ingeniously fabricated than the houses; each of them contained three, four, or five biers, decorated with Chinese stuffs, some pieces of which were brocade. Bows, arrows, and the other most esteemed articles of these people, were suspended in the interior of these monuments, the wooden door of which was closed by a bar, supported at each end by a prop.

The women are wrapped in a large robe of nankeen, or salmon’s skin, curiously tanned, descending as low as the ankle-bone, sometimes embellished with a border of fringe manufactured of copper, and producing sounds like those of little bells. Those salmon which furnish a covering for the fair, weigh thirty or forty pounds, and are never caught in summer; those which were taken by the French visiters did not exceed three or four pounds in weight; but that disadvantage was fully compensated by the extraordinary number, and the extreme delicacy of their flavor.

On the 2d of August, La Perouse sailed with a light breeze. On the 19th Cape Troun was perceived to the southward, and Cape Uries to the south-east-by-east; its proper direction, according to the Dutch chart: their situation could not possibly have been determined with more precision by modern navigators. In the evening of the 6th, they made the entrance of Avatcha Bay, or St. Peter and St. Paul. The light-house, erected by the Russians on the east point of the entrance, was not kindled during the night; as an excuse for which the governor declared the next day, that all their efforts to keep it burning had been ineffectual; the wind had constantly extinguished the flame, which was only sheltered by four planks of wood very indifferently cemented.

The government of Kamtschatka had been materially changed since the departure of the English, and was now only a dependency of that of Ochotsk. These particulars were communicated to our navigators by lieutenant Kaborof, governor of the harbor of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, having a sergeant and forty soldiers under his command. M. de Lessops, who acted as interpreter, and who perfectly understood the Russian language, wrote a letter, in La Perouse’s name, to the governor of Ochotsk, to whom La Perouse also wrote in French himself. He told him that the narrative of Cook’s last voyage had spread abroad the fame of the hospitality of the Kamtschadale government; and he flattered himself that he should be as favorably received as the English navigators, as his voyage, like theirs, was intended for the benefit of all maritime nations.

The Kamtschadales are of an imitative genius, and fond of adopting the customs of their conquerors. They have already abandoned the yourts, in which they were formerly accustomed to burrow like badgers, breathing foul air during the whole of the winter. The most opulent among them now build isbas, or wooden houses, like those of the Russians: they are divided into three small rooms, and are conveniently warmed by a brick stove. The inferior people pass their winters and summers in balagans, resembling wooden pigeon-houses, covered with thatch, and placed upon the tops of posts twelve or thirteen feet high, to which the women, as well as men, find a ladder necessary for their ascension. But these latter buildings will probably soon disappear; for the Kamtschadales imitate the manners and dresses of the Russians. It is curious to see in their little cottages, a quantity of cash in circulation; and it may be considered as a still greater curiosity, because the practice exists among so small a number of inhabitants. Their consumption of the commodities of Russia and China are so few, that the balance of trade is entirely in their favor, in consequence of which it is necessary to pay them the difference in roubles. The Kamtschadales, says La Perouse, appeared to me to be the same people as those of the Bay of Castries, on the coast of Tartary; they are equally remarkable for their mildness and their probity, and their persons are not very dissimilar.

The approach of winter now warned our navigators to depart; the ground, which, on their arrival on the 7th of September, was adorned with the most beautiful verdure, was as yellow and parched up on the 25th of the same month, as in the environs of Paris at the conclusion of December. La Perouse therefore gave preparatory orders for their departure, and, on the 29th, got under way. M. Kasloff came to take a final leave of him, and dined on board. He accompanied him on shore, with M. de Langle, and several officers, and was liberally entertained with a good supper, and a ball.

Induced by a western gale, La Perouse attempted to reach the parallel of Bougainville’s Navigator’s Islands, a discovery due to the French, where fresh provision might probably be procured. On the 6th of December, at three in the afternoon, he saw the most easterly island of that Archipelago, and stood on and off during the rest of the evening and night. Meaning to anchor if he met with a proper place, La Perouse passed through the channel between the great and the little islands that Bougainville left to the south; though hardly a league wide, it appeared perfectly free from danger. He saw no canoes until he was in the channel, yet he beheld several habitations on the windward side of the island, and a group of Indians sitting under the shade of cocoa nut trees, who seemed delighted with the prospect afforded by the frigates.

At break of day they were surprised not to see land to the leeward; nor was it to be discovered till six o’clock next morning. Charmed with the beautiful dawn of the following morning, La Perouse resolved to reconnoitre the country, take a view of the inhabitants at their own homes, fill water, and immediately get under way; prudence warning him against passing a second night at that anchorage, which M. de Langle also thought too dangerous for a longer stay. It was therefore agreed on to sail in the afternoon, after appropriating the morning in exchanging baubles for hogs and fruit. At the dawn of day the islanders had surrounded the two frigates, with two hundred different canoes laden with provision, which they would only exchange for beads, axes, and cloth; other articles of traffic, were treated by them with contempt. While a part of the crew was occupied in keeping them in order, and dealing, the rest were despatching empty casks on shore to be replenished with water. Two boats of the Boussole, armed, and commanded by Messrs. de Clonard and Colinet, and those of the Astrolabe, commanded by Messrs. de Monti and Bellegarde, set off with that view at five in the morning, for a bay at the distance of about a league. La Perouse followed close after Messrs. Clonard and Monti, in his pinnace, and landed when they did. It unfortunately happened that M. de Langle had formed a resolution to make an excursion in his jolly-boat to another creek, at the distance of about a league from their watering-place; from this excursion a dire misfortune ensued. The creek, towards which the long-boats steered, was large and commodious: these and the other boats remained afloat at low water, within half a pistol-shot of the beach, and excellent water was easily procured. Great order was observed by Messrs. de Clonard and de Monti. A line of soldiers was posted between the beach and the natives, who amounted to about two hundred, including many women and children. They were prevailed on to sit down under cocoa-trees, at a little distance from the boats; each of them had fowls, hogs, pigeons, or fruit, and all of them were anxious to dispose of their articles without delay, which created some confusion.

While matters were thus passing with perfect tranquillity, and the casks expeditiously flilling with water, La Perouse ventured to visit a charming village, situated in the midst of a neighboring wood, the trees of which were loaded with delicious fruit. The houses formed a circle of about one hundred and fifty toises in diameter, leaving an interior open space, beautifully verdant, and shaded with trees, which rendered the air delightfully cool and refreshing. Women, children, and aged men attended him, and earnestly importuned him to enter their houses; they even spread their finest mats upon the floor, decorated with chosen pebbles, and raised a convenient distance from the ground, to prevent offensive humidity. La Perouse condescended to enter one of the handsomest of these huts, which was probably inhabited by a chief, and was astonished to behold a large cabinet of lattice-work, on which as much taste and elegance were displayed as if it had been produced in the environs of Paris. This enchanting country, blessed with a fruitful soil without culture, and enjoying a climate which renders clothing unnecessary, holds out to these fortunate people an abundance of the most estimable food. The trees invite the natives to partake of the bread-fruit, the banana, the cocoa-nut, and the orange; while the swine, fowls, and dogs, which partake of the surplus of these fruits, afford them a rich variety of viands. The inhabitants of this enviable spot were so rich, and entirely free from wants, that they looked with disdain on the cloth and iron tendered by the French visitors, and only deigned to become customers for beads. Abounding in real blessings they languished only for superfluities.

The boats of the Boussole now arrived, loaded with water, and La Perouse made every preparation to get under way. M. de Langle at the same instant returned from his excursion, and mentioned his having landed in a noble harbor for boats, at the foot of a delightful village, and near a cascade of transparent water. He spoke of this watering-place as infinitely more commodious than any other, and begged La Perouse to permit him to take the lead of the first party, assuring him that in three hours he would return on board with all the boats full of water. Though La Perouse, from the appearance of things at this time, had no great apprehensions of danger, he was averse to sending boats on shore without the greatest necessity, especially among an immense number of people, unsupported and unperceived by the ships. The boats put off from the Astrolabe at half past twelve, and arrived at the watering-place soon after one; when, to their great astonishment, M. de Langle and his officers, instead of finding a large commodious bay, saw only a creek full of coral, through which there was no other passage than a winding channel of about twenty-five feet wide. When within, they had no more than five feet water; the longboats grounded, and the barges must have been in the same situation had they not been hauled to the entrance of the channel at a great distance from the beach. M. de Langle was now convinced that he had examined the bay at high-water only, not supposing that the tide at those islands rose five or six feet. Struck with amazement, he instantly resolved to quit the creek, and repair to that where they had before filled water; but the air of tranquillity and apparent good humor of the crowd of Indians, bringing with them an immense quantity of fruit and hogs, chased his first prudent idea from his recollection.

He landed the casks on shore from the four boats without interruption, while his soldiers preserved excellent order on the beach, forming themselves in two lines, the more effectually to answer their purpose. Instead of about two hundred natives, including women and children, which M. de Langle found there at about half after one, they were, at three o’clock, increased to the alarming number of one thousand and two hundred. M. de Langle’s situation became every instant more embarrassing; he found means, however, to ship his water, but the bay was almost dry, and he had not any hopes of getting off the long-boats till four in the afternoon. He and his detachment, however, stepped into them, and took post in the bow with his musket and musketeers, forbidding any one to fire without his command; which he knew would speedily be found necessary. Stones were now violently thrown by the Indians, who were up to their knees in water, and surrounded the long-boats, at the distance of about six feet; the soldiers, who were embarked, making feeble efforts to keep them off.

M. de Langle, still hoping to check hostilities, without effusion of blood, gave no orders, all this time, for firing a volley of musketry and swivels; but shortly after, a shower of stones, thrown with incredible force, struck almost every one in the long-boat. M. de Langle had only fired two shots, when he was knocked overboard, and massacred with clubs and stones by about two hundred Indians. The long-boat of the Boussole, commanded by M. de Boutin, was aground near the Astrolabe, leaving between them a channel unoccupied by the Indians. Many saved themselves by swimming, who fortunately got on board the barges, which keeping afloat, forty-nine persons were saved out of the sixty-one, of which the party consisted. M. Boutin was knocked down by a stone, but fortunately fell between the two long-boats, on board of which not a man remained in the space of about five minutes. Those who preserved their lives by swimming to the two barges, received several wounds; but those who unhappily fell on the other side were instantly despatched by the clubs of the remorseless Indians.

The crews of the barges, who had killed many of the islanders with their muskets, now began to make more room by throwing their water-casks overboard. They had also nearly exhausted their ammunition, and their retreat was rendered difficult, a number of wounded persons lying stretched out upon the thwarts, and impeding the working of the oars. To the prudence of M. Vaujaus, and the discipline kept up by M. Mouton, who commanded the Boussole’s barge, the public are indebted for the preservation of the forty-nine persons of both crews who escaped. M. Bouton had received five wounds in the head, and one in the breast, and was kept above water by the cockswain of the longboat who had himself received a severe wound. M. Colinet was discovered in a state of insensibility upon the grapnel-rope of the barge, with two wounds on the head, an arm fractured, and a finger broken. M. Lavaux, surgeon of the Astrolabe, was obliged to suffer the operation of the trepan. M. de Lamanon, and M. de Langle, were cruelly massacred with Talio, master at arms of the Boussole, and nine other persons belonging to the two crews. M. le Gobien, who commanded the Astrolabe’s long-boat, did not desert his post till he was left alone; when, having exhausted his ammunition, he leaped into the channel, and, notwithstanding his wounds, preserved himself on board one of the barges. A little ammunition was afterwards found, and completely exhausted on the infuriated crowd; and the boats at length extricated themselves from their lamentable situation.

At five o’clock the officers and crew of the Boussole were informed of this disastrous event; they were at that moment surrounded with about one hundred canoes, in which the natives were disposing of their provisions with security, and perfectly innocent of the catastrophe which had happened. But they were the countrymen, the brothers, the children of the infernal assassins, the thoughts of which so transported La Perouse with rage, that he could with difficulty confine himself to the limits of moderation, or hinder the crew from punishing them with death.

On the 14th of December, La Perouse stood for the island of Oyolava, which had been observed before they arrived at the anchorage which proved so fatal. This island is separated from that of Maouna, or of the Massacre, by a wide channel, and vies with Otaheite in beauty, extent, fertility, and population. At the distance of about three leagues from the north-east point, he was surrounded by canoes, laden with bread-fruit, bananas, cocoanuts, sugar-cane, pigeons, and a few hogs. The inhabitants of this island resemble those of the island of Maouna, whose treachery had been so fatally experienced. Some exchanges were conducted with these islanders with more tranquillity and honesty than at the island of Maouna, as the smallest act of injustice received immediate chastisement.

On the 17th they approached the island of Pola, but not a single canoe came off perhaps the natives had been intimidated by hearing of the event which had taken place at Maouna. Pola is a smaller island than that of Oyolava, but equally beautiful, and is only separated from it by a channel four leagues across. The natives of Maouna informed our visitors, that the Navigator’s Islands are ten in number, viz. Opoun, the most easterly, Leone, Fanfoue, Maouna, Oyolava, Calinasse, Pola Skika, Ossamo, and Ouera. These islands form one of the finest archipelagoes of the South Sea, and are as interesting with respect to arts, productions, and population, as the Society and Friendly Islands, which the English navigators have so satisfactorily described. In favor of their moral characters, little remains to be noticed; gratitude cannot find a residence in their ferocious minds; nothing but fear can restrain them from outrageous and inhuman actions. The huts of these islanders are elegantly formed; though they disdain the fabrications of iron, they finish their work with wonderful neatness, with tools formed of a species of basaltes in the form of an adze. For a few glass-beads, they batered large three-legged dishes of wood, so well-polished as to have the appearance of being highly varnished. They kept up a wretched kind of police; a few, who had the appearance of chiefs, chastised the refractory with their sticks, but their assumed power seemed generally disregarded; any regulations which they attempted to enforce and to establish, were transgressed almost as soon as they were promulgated. Never were sovereigns so negligently obeyed, never were orders enforced with such feeble shadows of authority.

Imagination cannot figure to itself more agreeable situations than those of their villages. All the houses are built under fruit-trees, which render them delightfully cool; they are seated on the borders of streams, leading down from the mountains. Though the principal object in their architecture is to protect them from offensive heat, the islanders never abandoned the idea of elegance. Their houses are sufficiently spacious to accommodate several families; and they are furnished with blinds, which are drawn to the windward to prevent the intrusion of the potent rays of the sun. The natives repose upon fine comfortable mats, which are cautiously preserved from humidity. Nothing can be said, by our travelers, of the religious rites of these natives, as no moral was perceived belonging to them. The islands are fertile, and their population is supposed to be considerable. Opun, Leone, and Fanfoue, are small; but Maoune, Oyolava, and Pola, may be classed among the largest and most beautiful in the South Sea. Cocoa island is lofty, and formed like a sugar-loaf; it is nearly a mile in diameter, covered with trees, and is separated from Traitors’ Island by a channel about a league wide.

At eight in the morning La Perouse brought to, to the west-south-west, at two miles from a sandy bay in the western part of the Great Island of Traitors, where he expected to find an anchorage sheltered from easterly winds. About twenty canoes instantly quitted the shore and approached the frigates in order to make exchanges; several of them were loaded with excellent cocoa-nuts, with a few yams and bananas; one of them brought a hog, and three or four fowls. It evidently appeared that these Indians had before some knowledge of Europeans, as they came near without fear, traded with honesty, and never refused to part with their fruit before they were paid for it. They spoke, however, the same language, and the same ferocity appeared in their countenances; their manner of tattooing, and the form of their canoes, were the same, but they had not, like them, two joints cut off from the little finger of the left hand; two individuals had, however, suffered that operation.

On the 27th of December, Vavao was perceived, an island which Captain Cook had never visited, but was no stranger to its existence, as one of the archipelago of the Friendly Islands; it is nearly equal in extent to that of Tongataboo, and is particularly fortunate in having no deficiency of fresh water. The two small islands of Hoongatonga are no more than two large uninhabitable rocks, which are high enough to be seen at the distance of fifteen leagues. Their position is ten leagues north of Tongataboo; but that island being low, it can hardly be seen at half that distance. On the 31st of December, at six in the morning, an appearance like the tops of trees, which seemed to grow in the water, proved the harbinger of Van Dieman’s point. The wind being northerly, La Perouse steered for the south coast of the island, which may, without danger, be approached within three musket-shots. Not the semblance of a hill is to be seen; a calm sea cannot present a more level surface to the eye. The huts of the natives were scattered irregularly over the fields, and not socially collected into a conversable neighborhood. Seven or eight canoes were launched from these habitations, and directed their course towards the vessels; but these islanders were awkward seamen, and did not venture to come near, though the water was smooth, and no obstacle impeded their passage. At the distance of about eight or ten feet, they leaped overboard and swam near the frigates, holding in each hand a quantity of cocoa-nuts, which they were glad to exchange for pieces of iron, nails, and hatchets; from the honesty of their dealings a friendly intercourse ensued between the islanders and the navigators, and they ventured to come on board.

Norfolk Island, off the coast of New South Wales, which they saw on the 13th of January, is very steep, but does not exceed eighty toises above the level of the sea. It is covered with pines, which appear to be of the same species as those of New Caledonia, or New Zealand. Captain Cook having declared that he saw many cabbage-trees in this island, heightened the desire of the navigators to land on it. Perhaps the palm which produces these cabbages is very small, for not a single tree of that species could be discovered. On the 26th, at nine in the morning, La Perouse let go the anchor at a mile from the north coast of Botany Bay, in seven fathoms water. An English lieutenant, and a midshipman, were sent on board his ship by Captain Hunter, commander of the Sirius. They offered him, in Captain Hunter’s name, all the services in his power; but circumstances would not permit him to supply them with provision, ammunition, or sails. An officer was despatched from the French to the English Captain, returning thanks, and adding, that his wants extended only to wood and water, of which he should find plenty in the bay. The journal of La Perouse proceeds no further. La Perouse, according to his last letters from Botany Bay, was to return to the Isle of France in 1788.

They left Botany Bay in March, and, in a letter which the commodore wrote February 7, he stated his intention to continue his researches till December, when he expected, after visiting the Friendly Islands, to arrive at the Isle of France. This was the latest intelligence received of the fate of the expedition; and M. d’ Entrecasteaux, who was despatched by the French government, in 1791, in search of La Perouse, was unable to trace the course he had taken, or gain any clew to the catastrophe which had befallen him and his companions.

In 1825 the attention of the public was excited towards this mysterious affair, by a notice published by the French minister of the marine, purporting that an American captain had declared that he had seen, in the hands of one of the natives of an island in the tract between Louisiade and New Caledonia, a cross of the order of St. Louis, and some medals, which appeared to have been procured from the shipwreck of La Perouse. In consequence of this information, the commander of a vessel which sailed from Toulon, in April, 1826, on a voyage of discovery, received orders to make researches in the quarter specified, in order to restore to their country any of the shipwrecked crew who might yet remain in existence. Other intelligence, relative to the wreck of two large vessels, on two different islands of the New Hebrides, was obtained by Captain Dillon, the commander of an English vessel at Tucopia, in his passage from Valparaiso to Pondicherry, in May, 1826, in consequence of which he was sent back to ascertain the truth of the matter. The facts discovered by him on this mission, were, that the two ships struck on a reef at Mallicolo; one of them immediately went down, and all on board perished; some of the crew of the other escaped, part of whom were murdered by the savages; the remainder built a small vessel and set sail, but their fate is not known. It is not certain that these were the vessels of La Perouse.

George Vancouver, born about the year 1750, accompanied captain Cook in his second voyage round the world, and, on his return, went out with him in the Discovery, to the north pole, and arrived again in England in 1780. In the latter end of the last mentioned year, he was appointed a lieutenant of the ship Fame, part of lord Rodney’s fleet, then on its way to the West Indies, where he remained till 1789, being employed, during the last six years, on the Jamaica station, in the sloop Europa. On his arrival in England, in 1790, he was made master and commander of the Discovery; in which ship he was sent out to ascertain if there existed in North America, between the thirtieth and sixtieth degrees of latitude, an interior sea, or any canals of communication between the known gulfs of the Atlantic and the Great Sea; a point about which Cook and other navigators had been able to give no satisfactory information.

On the 17th of August, 1791, he reached the southern coast of New Holland, where he discovered King George the Third’s Sound; and, after leaving Dusky Bay, in New Zealand, ascertained the situation of some dangerous rocks and an inhabited island, giving to the former the name of the Snares, and to the latter that of Oparo. On the 24th of January, 1792, he set sail from Otaheite; and in the following March, arrived at Owhyhee, where he was visited by the chiefs of the island. He then proceeded along the north coast of New Albion to De Fuca’s Straits, Nootka, and Monterey Bay. Here he passed some days, and having received an important communication from the Spanish commandant relative to the cession of Monterey, he forwarded a despatch to England, by captain Broughton, in the ship Dædalus, together with his journal of discoveries up to that time.

In February, 1793, he sailed to the Sandwich Islands, where he endeavored to establish peace between the different chiefs, and compelled them to execute two islanders, whom he discovered to have been the murderers of lieutenant Hergest and other seamen of the Dædalus. In April, he sailed along the American shore as far as Cape Decision; and, after coasting along the western side of Queen Charlotte’s Islands to Nootka, proceeded to the Spanish settlements of New California, and discovered, to the south of Monterey, a double chain of mountains, and that the one nearest the sea was the least in height. In January, 1794, in which year he was made a post-captain, he reached Owhyhee, which was, shortly after his arrival, ceded by the king Tamaahmæah to the king of England. On leaving Owhyhee, he passed Trinity Isles, and discovered an island uninhabited and covered with snow, which he called Tschericow. He then proceeded up Cook’s river, and after minutely examining several bays, straits, and inlets, and discovering King George the Third’s Archipelago, he terminated his operations in Port Conclusion, which he reached on the 22d of August, where he made the following remarks in his journal:—​‘The principal object which his majesty appears to have had in view, in directing the undertaking of this voyage, having at length been completed, I trust the precision with which the survey of the coast of North-West America has been carried into effect will remove every doubt, and set aside every opinion of a northwest passage, or any water communication navigable for shipping, existing between the North Pacific and the interior of the American continent, within the limits of our researches.’ On the 6th of July, 1795, he arrived at St. Helena, and observed that, having made the tour of the world by the east, he had gained twenty-four hours; it being, according to his estimation, Monday, instead of Sunday, the 5th of July, as in the island.

He arrived in London in November, 1795, and, in a state of declining health from the effects of his voyages, devoted himself to the arrangement of his manuscripts for publication, until within a very short time of his death, which occurred on the 10th of May, 1798. In the same year, his work, edited by his brother, was printed at the expense of government, entitled, ‘A Voyage of Discovery to the North Pacific Ocean, and round the World, in which the Coast of North West America has been carefully Examined and accurately Surveyed, Undertaken by His Majesty’s Command, and Performed in the Years 1790, 1791, 1792, 1793, 1794, and 1795:’ and was, shortly after its appearance, translated into French, German and Swedish.

The world is indebted to Vancouver for ascertaining the precise knowledge of the North-West American coast, of which he entered parts never before deemed accessible but to the smallest sea boats, and traveled in a canoe nearly nine thousand miles among the labyrinth of isles which border that part of the coast. His maps afford an exact description of the discoveries, which he determined with great precision. Zealous, and indefatigable in the pursuit of his object, he was, at the same time, benevolent and unassuming, and insisted on his companions sharing in the credit of his undertakings. In his account he offers some curious notions in reference to the various inhabitants of the north-west coast, the Russian and Spanish colonies, and the isles of the Great Sea; which, by their frequent intercourse with Europeans, had suffered much change in an interval of thirty years. His narrative, in addition to the information it contains, is also replete with interest.

On September 28th, 1791, in the two sloops, La Recherche and L’Esperance, of sixteen guns, and one hundred and ten men each, they weighed from the harbor of Brest, completely equipped for a voyage of circumnavigating the globe. The conduct of the expedition was assigned to Captain D’Entrecasteaux. The leading object of the voyage was to endeavor to procure intelligence relative to Captain La Perouse, who had long been missing in the South Seas, and to make a complete tour of New Holland; an island, by far the largest in the world; comprehending an immense circuit of at least three thousand (French) leagues. The accomplishment of this last point was essential to the history of geography, and what had not been effected by either Cook or La Perouse.

The first port they made was Santa Cruz in Teneriffe; they arrived there on the 17th of October, and having taken in wines and provisions, proceeded on their route to the Cape of Good Hope; and while they continued there, the expedition sustained a considerable misfortune in the death of the astronomer Bertrand. February 16th, 1792, they left the Cape, and bore away for the island of New Guinea, some parts of which they explored; they reached the islands Arsacides on July the 9th, and New Ireland the 17th ditto. They afterwards made for Amboyna, one of the Molucca islands, and arrived Sept. 6th. October 11th, they left Amboyna, and sailed immediately for the west part of New Holland. December 3d, 1792, they arrived at the Cape, which is at the south-west extremity of New Holland, and sailed along the southern shore, till January 3d, having by this means traced and ascertained about two-thirds of the whole extent of the southern coast. On the 11th of March, they passed very near the North cape of New Zealand, and making for shore, several canoes came along side. On the 16th, they discovered two little islands at a little distance from each other. The most eastern one lies in 30 deg. 17 min. south latitude, and in 179 deg. 41 min. east longitude. On the 17th, discovered an island about five leagues in circumference, conspicuous by its elevated situation. It lies in 29 deg. 3 min. south latitude, and in 179 deg. 54 min. east longitude. On the 2d of March they saw Ebona, the most south-westerly of the Friendly Islands. The next day anchored at Tongataboo, the largest of the Friendly Islands. Among the islanders they frequently met with men six feet high, their limbs shaped in the most comely proportion. The fertility of the soil, which exempted them from the necessity of extreme labor, may conduce not a little to the unusual perfection of their forms. Their features have a strong resemblance to those of Europeans. A burning sky has impressed a slight discolor on their skins. Those, among the women, who are but little exposed to the rays of the sun, are sufficiently fair. Some of them are distinguished by a beautiful carnation, which gives a vivacity to their whole figure. A thousand nameless graces are visible in their gestures, when engaged in the slightest employments. In the dance their movements are enchanting.

The language of this people bears an analogy with the gentleness of their manners; it is well adapted to music, for which they have a peculiar taste. Their concerts wherein every one performs his part, demonstrate the just ideas which they entertain of harmony. The women, as well as the men, have their shoulders and breasts naked. A cotton cloth, or rather a piece of stuff, manufactured from the bark of mulberry-tree into paper, serves them for apparel. It forms a beautiful drapery, reaching from a little above the waist down to the feet. These islands produce a species of nutmegs, which differs very little in form from those of the Moluccas. It is not, however, aromatic, and is almost twice as large. They also procured the bread-fruit tree, for the purpose of transporting it into the West India Islands. We must not confound these excellent species of bread-fruit tree with the wild species of it found in the Moluccas, and observed for a long time past in the Isle of France. In this second sort the grains do not miscarry, while in the good fruit-tree they are replaced by a food truly delicious, when baked under ashes or in the oven. In other respects it is a most wholesome viand, affording a pleasant repast during the whole time of their continuance on this island, and for which they willingly relinquished the ship’s stock of baker’s bread. The Molucca sort produces thirty or forty small fruits; while every tree of the Friendly Islands produces three or four hundred extremely large, of an oval form, the greatest diameter being from nine to ten inches, and the smallest from seven to eight. A tree would be oppressed with such an enormous load, if the fruit were to ripen all at once; but sagacious nature has so ordered it, that the fruit succeed each other, during eight months of the year, thus providing the natives with a food equally salubrious and plentiful. Every tree occupies a circular space of about thirty feet in diameter. A single acre occupied by this vegetable would supply the wants of a number of families. Nothing in nature exhibits a similar fecundity. As it has no seeds, it has a wonderful faculty of throwing out suckers; and its roots frequently force their way up to the surface of the earth, and there give birth to fresh plants. It thrives exceedingly in a tropical climate, in a soil somewhat elevated above the level of the sea; and suits very well with a marly soil, in which a mixture of argillaceous clay preponderates.

They quitted the Friendly Islands on the 10th of April, 1793. April 15th saw Enouan, the most eastern of the islands of the Archipelago of the Holy Ghost, and afterwards that of Anaton. The eruptions of the volcano of Tana presented in the night a spectacle truly sublime. April 27th, steering for New Caledonia; in a night darker than usual, they ran among some islands surrounded with breakers, not noticed till then by navigators; they were only apprised of danger by an uncommon circumstance; the flight of a flock of sea-fowl over their heads about three in the morning. This indication of the proximity of land induced the officer upon watch to slacken sail, and lie-to, at a critical juncture, when an hour’s more sailing must have dashed them to pieces against the rocks. These new discovered islands lie about thirty leagues north-east of New Caledonia, where they anchored April 26th.

After the description that Cook and Foster had given of the inhabitants of New Zealand, they expected to find realized the advantageous portrait given of them by these celebrated voyagers. They had reason, however, partly to suspend their belief of those accounts, when they afterwards observed a number of human bones, broiled, which the savages were devouring, eagerly fastening on the smallest tendinous parts which adhere to them. This fact at least suffices to prove that the New Zealanders are cannibals. They often attacked the boat; but the good countenance exhibited prevented their assailing or massacreing any of their company. Notwithstanding these hostilities, the ship was every day visited by numerous bodies of the islanders. The soil being every where barren, they perceived but few vestiges of any taste for agriculture; still, however, they observed in some gardens the Colocasia, the Caribbe cabbage, the banana-tree, and the sugar-cane. The barbarous customs of the natives did not prevent their reiterated excursions into the interior parts of the country. On these occasions they kept together to the number of twenty, always well armed. As evening came on, they commonly took their station on some elevated post in the mountains, where they passed the night in a situation which protected them from hostile assaults. To guard against surprise, they kept watch by turns.

May 9th, they weighed anchor, and sailed before the wind for the north. In their course, observed the eastern part of the reefs and islands, the western side of which they saw the year before. May 21st, were close on the island of St. Croix, and sent in two boats to look out for an anchoring place. While the sailors were employed in sounding, one of the natives, at the distance of upwards of eighty paces, lanced an arrow, which slightly wounded the forehead of one of them. A volley of firearms, however, soon dispersed the group of canoes which had surrounded the boats, and from which the lance proceeded. Although the wound was apparently so inconsiderable, it was attended with a tetanus, which proved mortal to the unfortunate sailor after only eight days. The arrow did not appear to have been poisoned, as it is well known that beasts pierced with the same weapons do not experience any fatal symptoms. In India, it is no uncommon thing to see the slightest puncture followed by a spasm, which is a certain forerunner of death.

July 16th and 17th, they sailed in view of the Anchoret Islands of Bougainville. On the 20th they lost D’Entrecasteaux, the captain. He died of convulsions, every fit of which was succeeded by a speechless stupor, August 16th, 1793, in 129 deg. 14 min. of east longitude, and so near the equator, that they were only half a minute to the south. Here the inhabitants brought very large sea-turtles, the soup of which they experienced to be a salutary remedy for the scurvy, which was now prevalent among them. In this island they procured a number of interesting objects, and quitted it August the 29th, and sailed for Bouao, where they anchored September the 3d, 1793. In this mountainous isle, where the productions of nature are extremely varied, they had a favorable opportunity of continuing their botanical researches, etc. Here several of the men died of a contagious bilious dysentery, contracted in the low marshy grounds of the country.

October 28, 1793, cast anchor in the road of Sourabaya, in the Isle of Java. Here divisions broke out among the crews, in consequence of gaining intelligence of the further progress of the French revolution. D’Auribeau hoisted the white flag Feb. 19th, 1794, and surrendered the two vessels to the Dutch. He also seized all the journals, charts, and memoirs, which were connected with the voyage, and arrested all those of the ship’s companies that were obnoxious to his own political sentiments. One journal, however, was fortunately saved, by having been stowed in a box of tea. In this hazardous, yet important voyage, of two hundred and fifteen persons, thirty-six lost their lives; the astronomer, Pearson, died at Java; and Ventenat at the Isle of France. Riche, the naturalist, remained at Java, as well as Billadiere. Lahay, the botanist, also stopped there; having under his care the bread-fruit trees, brought from the Friendly Islands. Pison, the painter, tarried with the governor of Sourabaya; but afterwards returned to Europe, and published an account of the voyage.

FIRST VOYAGE.

On the 16th of January, 1819, Lieutenant Parry was appointed to the command of his Majesty’s ship Hecla, a bomb of three hundred and seventy-five tons; and the Griper, gun brig, one hundred and eighty tons, commissioned by Lieutenant Matthew Liddon, was at the same time directed to put herself under his orders. The object of the expedition was to discover a north west passage into the Pacific. Every individual engaged in the expedition was to receive double pay. They took in provisions for two years, and also a supply of fresh meats and soups preserved in tin cases, essence of malt and hops, and other stores adapted to cold climates and a long voyage. The ships were ballasted entirely with coals, and the men were supplied with an abundance of warm clothing.

Captain Parry was to pass, if possible, through Lancaster’s Sound to Behring’s Strait. If he succeeded, he was to proceed to Kamtschatka and return to England round Cape Horn. Other instructions were given, but much was left to his own discretion. He sailed in the beginning of May, and proceeded up the straits of Davis, where he found the ice close packed. As he was making his way towards the western shore, on the 25th of June, the ice closed round the ships and arrested their progress. Here the ice was so close, that the whales could not descend in the usual way, but were obliged to go down tail first, much to the amusement of the Greenland sailors. Their situation during the 28th was unpleasant, and would have been dangerous to ships built in the ordinary way. Each roll of the sea forced the heavy masses of ice against the rudder and counter with great violence; but being so well strengthened, they escaped without damage. While in this state, a large white bear approached the Griper, attracted by the smell of some red herrings, which the men were frying at the time. They killed him, but he sunk between the pieces of ice, and they were unable to obtain him. On the 30th, the ice began to slacken a little about the ships, and after two hour’s heaving, they succeeded in moving the Hecla about her own length to the eastward; and the ice continuing open after eight hours’ incessant labor, they hauled both ships into open water.

Captain Parry having failed in his first attempt to approach the western shore, came to the determination of trying to effect this object, about the latitude of mount Raleigh, which forms one side of the narrowest part of Davis’ Strait. They kept on during the 1st and 2d of July, without finding any opening. On the third day, the wind having shifted to the south-west, another large chain of icebergs was seen to the northward. They could find no bottom near these icebergs with one hundred and ten fathoms of line. At four A. M. on the 4th, they came to a quantity of loose ice floating among the bergs. The breeze blew lightly from the southward, and wishing to avoid going to the eastward, they pushed the Hecla into the ice, in hopes of being able to make way through it. But it immediately fell calm and the ship becoming perfectly unmanageable, was for some time at the mercy of swells, which drifted her fast towards the bergs. The Griper’s signal was made not to enter the ice, and after two hours’ hard pulling, they succeeded in getting the Hecla clear of the icebergs, which it is very dangerous to approach whenever there is a swell.

The ice was now so close that they found it impossible to proceed further westward; and they made the best way they could, by beating northward, until the 10th, when a thick fog came on, which made it necessary to use great caution in sailing, to avoid the icebergs. The reflection of light, however, is so strong from these vast bodies of ice, that in the thickest fog they can be seen at a sufficient distance to enable the navigator, if in smooth water, to keep clear of them. The people succeeded in killing a large bear, which was seen near them on a piece of ice, and towed it on board. These animals sink immediately on being wounded, and to secure them, it is necessary to throw a rope over the neck, at which the Greenland seaman are very expert. After encountering many difficulties from the tenacity of the ice, on the 21st Captain Parry reached latitude 73 deg. As he was unwilling to increase his distance from Lancaster’s Sound, he determined to enter the ice here. He accordingly ran in among the floes, and on the evening of the 22d, the ships were so beset, that no open water could be seen from the mast-head. The weather being clear on the next day, and a few narrow lanes of water appearing to the westward, they proceeded to warp the ships through the ice. At eight P. M., they had advanced four miles to westward, and having come to the end of clear water, they secured the ships in a deep bight or bay in a floe, called by the sailors, Natural Dock. On the next day, a boat was sent to try to find a lane of clear water leading to the westward. She returned without success, and the weather was so foggy, that it was with difficulty she found her way back to the ships by means of muskets and other signals.

On Tuesday 27th the clear water had made so much to the westward, that a narrow neck of ice was all that separated the ships from a large open space in that quarter. The men were just ordered out to saw off the neck, when the floes suddenly opened and allowed the Griper to push through under all sail. Although they lost no time in attempting to get the Hecla through after her, yet before they could effect it, the passage was completely blocked up by a piece of floating ice, which was drawn after the Griper, by the eddy produced in her motion. Before they could haul it out of the channel, the floes pressed together and wedged it immovably, and although the saws were used with great effect, it was not until after seven hours’ labor, that they succeeded in getting the Hecla into the lanes of clear water, which opened towards the westward. They now perceived with pleasure, a pitching motion of the vessel, which, from the closeness of the ice, does not often occur in those regions, as a sure indication of an open sea. The wind breezing up by one o’clock P. M., the ice had all disappeared, and the sea was free from obstructions of any kind. Here they found the whales so numerous, that no less than eighty-two are mentioned in this day’s log. It is commonly thought by the Greenland fishermen, that the presence of ice is necessary to insure the finding of whales; but no ice was seen this day, when they were most numerous. At half past five P. M., the high land about Possession bay came in sight. Lancaster’s Sound was now open to the westward, and the experience of a former voyage had given Captain Parry reason to believe that the two best months for the navigation of those seas were yet to come. This, together with the magnificent view of the lofty Byaur Martin Mountains, which recalled forcibly to his mind the events of the preceding year, animated him with expectation and hope. On the 31st, they anchored in Possession bay and discovered a flag staff which had been erected on the former expedition. The only animals found here were a fox, a raven, some ring plovers, snow-buntings, and a wild bee. Several tracks of bears and reindeers were also seen upon the moist ground. Three black whales were seen in the bay, and the crown bones of several others were lying near the beach. The tide rises here about eight feet, and the flood seems to come from the northwest.

On the first of August, Captain Parry finding that the Griper could not keep up with the Hecla, determined to leave her. He appointed the middle of Lancaster Sound as a place of rendezvous, and crowding all sail on the Hecla, he came towards evning in sight of the northern shore of the sound; and the next day had a clear view of both sides of it.

Having run due west nearly out of sight of the Griper, the Hecla hove to for her to come up in longitude 83 degrees 12 minutes west from Greenwich, there being not the slightest appearance of land to the westward. The only ice met consisted of a few large bergs, much worn by the washing of the sea. Whales were seen, and the wind increased so that the top-gallant-yards were taken in. On the 4th, Lieutenant Beechy discovered, from the crow’s nest, breakers to the northward. They sounded, and found bottom with forty-five fathoms of line. The Griper coming up, the vessels bore away to the westward. The sea was here so clear of ice, that they began to flatter themselves, that they had indeed entered the Polar Sea. Their vexation was therefore extreme, when, towards evening, land was seen ahead. At eight P. M., they came to a stream of ice extending several miles in a direction parallel to their course; and after sailing for two hours along the edge of the ice, they found it proceeded from a compact body of floes, which completely cut off their passage. The weather here was calm and foggy, and the men amused themselves in pursuing white whales, which were swimming about the ships in great numbers. But these animals were so wary, that they seldom suffered the boats to approach within thirty or forty yards of them, without diving. They also saw for the first time, one or two shoals of nar-whales, called by the sailors sea-unicorns. Finding that the sound or strait was closed, excepting in one place to the southward, to this opening they directed their course. They had sailed but a few hours, however, when it fell calm; and the Griper, having spread both her top-masts, advantage was taken of the calm weather to shift them. The Hecla’s boats were at the same time employed in bringing aboard ice to be used as water. Berge-ice is preferred for this purpose, but that of floes which is in fact the ice of sea water, is also used. One of the boats was upset by the fall of a mass of ice, but fortunately no injury was sustained. A breeze springing up from the north-north-west, they made sail and stood to the southward. After sailing a short time, they discovered that they were entering a large inlet about ten leagues wide at its mouth, and in the centre of which no land could be distinguished. The western shore was so encumbered with ice that it was impossible to sail near it. They therefore ran along between the ice and the eastern shore, where there was a broad channel, with the intention of seeking a lower latitude or a clearer passage to the westward. Since they had first entered Lancaster’s Sound, the sluggishness of the compasses, and the irregularity produced by the attraction of the ship’s iron, had been found to increase rapidly as they proceeded to the westward. The irregularity increased as they advanced to the southward, which rendered it not improbable that they were approaching the magnetic pole. The compasses therefore were no longer fit for the purposes of navigation, and the binnacles were removed as useless lumber into the carpenter’s store-room, where they remained during the rest of the season. Being desirous of obtaining all the magnetic observations they were able, on a spot which appeared so full of interest in this department of science, two boats were dispatched from each ship to the nearest eastern shore, under the command of Lieutenant Beechy and Hoppner, who, together with Captain Sabine, were directed to make the necessary observations. As soon as the boats returned, the ships hove to the southward, along the edge of the ice, and by midnight the channel was narrowed to about five miles. They could find no soundings; the weather was serene, and the sun for the second time that season just dipped below the northern horizon, and reappeared a few moments after. They had hoped to find a passage to the south of the ice, especially as the inlet widened considerably as they advanced in that direction; but on the morning of the 8th, they perceived that the ice ran close in with a point of land, which seemed to form the southern extremity of the eastern shore. The prospect from the crow’s nest began to assume a very unpromising appearance. The whole western horizon from north round to south by east, being completely covered with ice, beyond which no indication of water was visible. Captain Parry therefore determined, as the season was fast advancing, to return immediately to the northward, in the hope of finding the channel between Prince Leopold’s Isles and Maxwell Bay more open than when they left it, in which there could be little doubt of effecting a passage to the westward. They had sailed to the southward in this inlet about one hundred and twenty miles, Cape Kater being by the observations in latitude 71 deg. 53 min. 30 sec., longitude 90 deg. 03 min. 45 seconds. They returned to the northward with a light but favorable breeze. On the 10th, the weather was thick with snow, which was succeeded by rain and fog. The ships moored to a floe, but when the weather cleared, they found themselves drifting with the floe upon another body of ice to leeward. They therefore cast off and beat to the northward, which was very difficult to do, on account of the drift ice with which the whole inlet was now covered. Although several days were thus passed in contending with fogs, head winds, and all the difficulties of arctic navigation, yet neither officers nor crews lost health or spirits. They repined not at the dangers and difficulties of their situation, but because the accomplishment of their hopes was delayed.

A light southern breeze enabled them to steer towards Prince Leopold’s Isles, which they found more encumbered with ice than before. Here they saw a great number of nar-whales, lying with their backs above the water in the same manner as the whale, and frequently with their horns erect and quite stationary for several minutes together. Three or four miles to the northward, they discovered an opening, having every appearance of a harbor, with an island near the entrance. It was named Jackson’s Bay. The whole of the 14th was consumed in the attempt to find an opening in the ice, but as it remained perfectly close and compact, on the 15th Captain Parry went on shore to make observations. He landed in one of the numerous valleys, which occur on this part of the coast, very much resembling bays, being bounded by high hills, which appear like bluff head-lands. He ascended the hill on the south side of the ravine, which is very steep, and covered with detached blocks of lime-stone, some of which are constantly rolling down, and which afford a very insecure footing. From the top of the hill no water could be seen over the ice to the northwest; and the whole space comprised between the islands and the northern shore, was covered with a bright dazzling blink.

It was a satisfaction, however, to find that no land appeared, and captain Parry was too well aware of the suddenness with which obstructions, occasioned by the ice, are often removed, to be at all discouraged by present appearances. On the top of this hill, he deposited a bottle containing a short notice of his visit, and raised over it a small mound of stones. The wind was light the next day, and the ice being closed, the ships scarcely changed their position. Despairing of being able to penetrate westward, in the neighborhood of Prince Leopold Isles, captain Parry determined to stand towards the northern shore again, and after beating for some hours among the drift ice, the ships got into clear water near the coast. They had just light enough at midnight to see to read and write in the cabin. Passing along the shore, they left the ice behind them, and on the 21st they had nothing to hinder their passage westward, but want of wind. But the wind freshening soon after, all sail was made to the westward, where the prospect began to wear a more and more interesting appearance. It was soon perceived that the land along which they were sailing, and which had appeared to be continuous from Baffin’s Bay, began now to trend much to the northward, leaving an open space between that coast, and a distant land to the westward, which appeared like an island, of which the extremes to the north and south were distinctly visible. The latter was a remarkable headland, and was named Cape Hotham. They discovered also several headlands on the eastern land; between the northernmost of which and the island to the westward, there was a channel of more than eight leagues in width, in which neither land nor ice could be seen from the mast head. The arrival off this noble channel, to which captain Parry gave the name of Wellington, was an event for which they had all been anxiously looking; for the continuity of land to the northward, had always been a source of uneasiness to them, from the possibility that it might take a turn to the southward, and unite with the coast of America. Every one thought that they were now finally disentangled from the land, which forms the western side of Baffin’s Bay; and that in fact they had actually entered the Polar Sea. Fully impressed with this idea, captain Parry gave to this opening the name of Barrow’s Straits.

Two thirds of the month of August had now elapsed, and they expected that the sea would remain navigable six weeks more. The ships had suffered no injury, they had a plenty of provisions, the crews were in high health and spirits, and the sea before them, if not open, was at least navigable. On the 23d, a fresh breeze sprung up, and although Wellington channel was open to the northward, captain Parry judged it best to try a large opening south of Cornwallis’ island. But their disappointment was extreme, when it was suddenly reported from the crow’s nest, that their passage was obstructed by a large body of ice. Lieutenant Beechy discovered, however, that one part of the barrier consisted of loose pieces of ice, and the Hecla being immediately pushed into this part of it, succeeded, after a quarter of an hour’s ‘boring,’ in forcing her way through the neck. The Griper followed, and they continued their course to the westward, having once more a navigable sea before them. At 2 P. M., having reached longitude 95 deg. 67 min., they came to two extensive floes, which obliged the ships to tack, as there was no passage between them. They then beat to the northward in search of a passage, but none was found. After several unsuccessful attempts to force a passage, they at last succeeded by ‘boring’ through several heavy streams, and at midnight were enabled to pursue their course to the westward.

The ships made very little way this night, but in the morning they advanced with more speed, and more land was seen to the westward. The space to the westward was now so broad, that captain Parry thought best to appoint a place where the Griper should find the Hecla in case of a separation. But about 7 P. M., this precaution was found to have been needless, for the ice stretched across the strait, and barred the passage. Captain Parry now resolved to seek a passage along the northern shore. As the vessels were rounding the eastern side of the island captain Sabine was despatched to make observations, and examine the natural productions of the shore. He reported that he had found the island much more interesting than any other parts of the shores of the polar regions they had yet visited. The remains of Esquimaux habitations were found in four different places. Some of them are described by captain Sabine, as consisting of stones rudely placed in an elliptical form. They were from seven to ten feet in diameter, the flat sides of the stones standing vertically, and the whole structure being similar to that of the summer huts of the Esquimaux, which had been seen the preceding year. Attached to each were smaller circles of about four or five feet in diameter, and from the moss and sand which covered some of the lower stones, the whole encampment appeared to have been deserted for several years. The fogs now froze hard upon the rigging, which made it difficult to work the ship, as each rope was increased to twice or three times its proper diameter.

On the evening of the 29th, a very thick fog came on, and they sailed under such circumstances as have seldom occurred in navigation. Observing that the wind always blew some hours steadily from one quarter, the quarter-masters steered by the vane at the mast head, instead of the compass, which was here utterly useless. At night the ships made fast to a floe, about six or seven feet thick, which was covered with numerous pools of water, all hard frozen. The officers amused themselves in skating upon the pools, and the men in sliding, foot-ball, and other games. Thus the ships remained until the 21st, when a new expedient for sailing was adopted.

Before the fog commenced, and while they were sailing on a course, which they knew to be the right one, the Griper was exactly astern of the Hecla, at the distance of about a quarter of a mile. The quarter master stood aft, near the taffrail, and kept her constantly astern, by which means they were enabled to steer a tolerably straight course to the westward. The Griper, on the other hand, kept the Hecla right ahead, and thus they steered one ship by the other, for the distance of ten miles out of sixteen and a half, which they traversed between one and eleven P. M. The morning of the first of September brought a breeze, and with it a snow storm, so that they were unable to shape their course that afternoon. At one on the 2d, a star was seen, the first that had been visible for more than two months. The fog came on again, and there was not wind enough to enable them to keep the ships under command. On the morning of the 3d, a northern breeze enabled them to make considerable progress, and on the 4th, at nine P. M., they crossed the meridian of 110 deg. west from Greenwich, latitude 74 deg. 44 min. 20 sec., by which the ship’s company became entitled to a reward of 5000 pounds, offered by the king’s order in council ‘to such British subjects as might penetrate so far west within the Arctic circle.’ On the 5th, they found the passage blocked up again, and as no change seemed likely to take place, they came to anchor in a tolerable roadstead, a mile and a half from the northern shore. In the evening, Captain Sabine and some of the other officers landed on an island, to which they gave the name of Melville Island. Here they saw several flocks of ducks and gulls; tracks of the deer and musk ox were also observed, and some addition made by the gentlemen to their collection of marine insects. The bay of the Hecla and Griper, as they called the roadstead where the ships lay, was the first place in which they had dropped anchor since leaving England. The flags were hoisted in honor of the epoch; the first time that the eye of civilized man had looked on that barren and inhospitable region. In the afternoon the ice was observed to be in motion; and the ship got under way and sailed a short distance. But finding no opening, the ships were secured to a floe, which it was necessary to do every night, the weather being too dark to allow them to keep under way. Captain Parry, fearing that the floes might change their position, determined to remove nearer the shore. Two large masses lay aground, and the vessels were secured between them and the shore. Parties went out and returned with a white hare, some fine ptarmigans, a few snow-buntings, skulls of the musk ox, and several reindeer’s horns; but they were unable to meet with either of the two latter animals. Several lumps of coal were also picked up, and were found to burn with a clear lively flame, like canalcoal, but without splitting and crackling in the same manner. At five A. M., on the 10th, a floe ran against the berg, within which the Hecla was secured and turned it round as on a pivot.

They were now so surrounded with ice, that all they could do was to attend carefully to the safety of the ships. On the 11th, one of the officers killed the first musk ox they had yet been able to approach.

The packed ice remained immovable, and the ‘young ice’ rapidly forming, farther progress was considered impracticable that season. Captain Parry thought it best to run back to the bay of Hecla and Griper and to pass the winter there. The signal for weighing anchor was given on the 22d, but the cables had become so stiff with frost, that it was five P. M. before the anchors were brought on board; and they did not reach the anchorage till the evening of the next day. A proper place being found, the ships dropped anchor on the edge of the bay of ice, in the evening of the 24th; and on the next day, they commenced cutting a canal. Two parallel lines were marked out a little more than the breadth of the ships apart; along these lines, a cut was then made with an ice saw, and others again at right-angles with them, at intervals of from ten to twenty feet. The pieces thus cut, were again divided diagonally, in order to give room for their being floated out of the canal. The seamen, who are fond of doing things in their own way, took advantage of a fresh northerly breeze, by setting some boat’s sails on the pieces of ice, a contrivance which saved both time and labor.

At half past seven P. M., they weighed anchor, and began to warp up the canal; but the wind blew so fresh, and the people were so much fatigued, that it was midnight before they reached the termination of their first day’s labor. All hands were again set to work on the morning of the 25th, when it was proposed to sink the pieces of ice under the floe instead of floating them out. To effect this it was necessary for some to stand on the end of the piece of ice, which it was intended to sink, while others hauling upon ropes attached to the opposite end, dragged the block under that part of the floe, on which the people stood. The officers took the lead in this employ, and were frequently up to their knees in water during the day, with the thermometer generally at 12 deg. and never higher than 16 deg. At six P. M. the Griper was made fast astern of the Hecla, and the two ships’ companies, being divided on each bank of the canal, soon drew the ships to the end of their second day’s work. The next day at noon, the whole canal was completed, a length of four thousand and eighty-two yards through ice seven inches thick. The wintering ground was called winter harbor, and the group of which the island formed a part, was denominated Georgian Islands, in honor of the reigning sovereign of Great Britain.

Having reached the place where they were probably to pass nine months, and three of them in the absence of the sun, Captain Parry was called upon to act in circumstances in which no British naval officer had before been placed. The security of the ships, the preservation of the stores, a regular system for the maintenance of good order, cleanliness, and consequently good health; amusement and employment for the men, were all to be attended to. Scientific observations were also to be made, and Captain Sabine employed himself immediately in selecting a place for an observatory, which was erected in a convenient spot, about seven hundred yards to the westward of the ships. The whole of the masts were dismantled, except the lower ones and the Hecla’s main-top-mast; the lower yards were lashed fore and aft amidships, to support the planks of the housing intended to be erected over the ships; and the whole of this frame work was afterwards roofed over with a cloth. This done, Captain Parry’s whole attention was directed to the health and comfort of the officers and men. The surgeon reported that not the slightest disposition to scurvy had shown itself in either ship. In order to preserve this healthy state of the crew, arrangements were made for the warmth and dryness of the berths and bedplaces; and finding that when the temperature had fallen considerably below zero, the steam from the coppers began to condense into drops on the beams and sides, they were obliged to adopt such means for producing a sufficient warmth, combined with due ventilation, as might carry off the vapor and thus prevent its settling on any part of the ship. For this purpose, a large stone oven, cased with cast iron, in which all their bread was baked in the winter, was placed on the main-hatch-way, and the stove pipe led fore and aft on one side of the lower deck, the smoke being thus carried up the fore hatch-way. On the opposite side of the deck, an apparatus had been attached to the galley-range for conveying a current of heated air between decks. For the preservation of health, a few alterations were made in the quantity and quality of the provisions issued. The allowance of bread was reduced to two-thirds. A pound of preserved meat, together with a pint of vegetable or concentrated soup per man was substituted for one pound of salt beef weekly; and a small quantity of sour krout and pickles, with as much vinegar as could be used, was issued at regular intervals. They were obliged to institute the most rigid economy, with regard to their coals, as they were unable to find any on the island, excepting a few lumps; and the moss which grew in abundance was found totally unfit for the purposes of fuel.

Great attention was paid to the clothing of the men, and one day in the week was appointed for the examination of the men’s shins and gums by the medical gentlemen, in order that any slight appearance of the scurvy might be at once detected and checked by timely and adequate means.

Under circumstances of leisure and inactivity, such as they were now placed in, and with every prospect of its continuance, Captain Parry was desirous of finding some amusement for the men during this long and tedious interval. He proposed, therefore, to get up a play occasionally on board the Hecla; and his proposal being readily seconded by the officers, Lieutenant Beechy having been chosen manager, the performance was fixed for the 5th of November, to the great delight of the ships’ companies. In order still further to promote good humor, and to afford amusing occupation during the hours of constant darkness, they set on foot a weekly newspaper, which was to be called the North Georgia Gazette and Winter Chronicle, and of which Captain Sabine undertook to be the editor, under the promise of being supported by original contributions from the officers of the two ships. The meridian altitude of the sun was observed, for the last time, on the 16th of October.

On the 26th the light was sufficient to allow of reading and writing in the cabins, from half past nine till half past two. The rest of the hours were spent by lamp light. It now became rather a painful experiment to touch any metallic substance in the open air, with the naked hand; the feeling produced by it exactly resembling that occasioned by the opposite extreme of intense heat; and taking off the skin from the part affected. They found it necessary, therefore, to use great caution in handling the sextants and other instruments; particularly the eye-pieces of the telescopes, which, if suffered to touch the face, occasioned an intense burning pain; but this was easily remedied by covering them over with soft leather. The month of November set in with mild weather. The fourth was the last day that the sun, independently of refraction, would be seen above the horizon for ninety-six days; but the weather was too thick for making any observations. On the 5th, their theatre was opened, with the representation of Miss in her Teens; which afforded the men a great fund of amusement. Even fitting up the theatre and taking it to pieces again, was a matter of no small importance; as it kept the men employed a day or two before and after each performance, which was a considerable object gained.

On the 11th, the thermometer fell to 26½ for the second time. The wolves began to approach the ships boldly, howling most piteously on the beach near, and sometimes coming along side the ships, when everything was quiet at night; but they seldom saw more than one or two together, and therefore could form no idea of their number. The white foxes used also to visit the ships at night, and one of these was caught in a trap, set under the Griper’s bows.

The stars of the second magnitude in Ursa Major were perceptible to the naked eye, a little after noon on the 11th of December, and the Aurora Borealis appeared faintly in the south-west at night. The cold continued to increase. About the middle of the month, a serious loss took place in the bursting of the bottles of lemon juice; in some boxes of which, two thirds of the contents were found to be destroyed. The vinegar also froze in the same manner, and lost much of its acidity, when thawed. A few gallons of highly concentrated vinegar congealed into a consistence like honey.

Theatrical entertainments took place regularly once a fortnight, and continued to prove a source of infinite amusement to the men; and more than one or two plays were performed, with the thermometer below zero, on the stage on board the Hecla.

The North Georgia Gazette, which we have already mentioned, was a source of great amusement, not only to the contributors, but to those who, from diffidence of their own talents, or other reasons, could not be prevailed on to add their mite to the little stock of literary composition, which was weekly demanded; for those who declined to write were not unwilling to read, and more ready to criticise than those who wielded the pen; but it was that good humored sort of criticism that could not give offense.

On Christmas day the weather was raw and cold, with a considerable snow drift, although the wind was only moderate from northwest. Divine service was performed on board. The men’s usual proportion of fresh meat was increased, as also their allowance of grog, and the day passed with much of the same kind of festivity by which it is usually distinguished at home.

On the first of January scurvy made its appearance among them. Mr. Scallon, gunner of the Hecla, had complained for some days, and the symptoms were now decidedly scorbutic. It was found to be owing to the dampness of his bedding, and proper measures were taken to prevent an increase of the malady. By raising mustard and cress in small boxes near the cabin stove, they were able to give Mr. Scallon and one or two more patients nearly an ounce of salad per day. The vegetables thus raised were necessarily colorless from the privation of light; but they had the same taste as if raised in ordinary circumstances. So effectual were they in the case of Mr. Scallon, that he recovered in less than a fortnight.

Toward the end of the month they began to look out for the sun from the mast head. On the morning of the third of February, the weather being clear, a cross, consisting of the usual vertical and horizontal rays, was seen about the moon. At twenty minutes before noon the sun was seen from the Hecla’s maintop, at the height of fifty-one feet above the sea, being the first time it had been seen for eighty-four days, twelve days less than its actual stay below the horizon. There was now, from eight o’clock till four, sufficient light for any kind of work, and on the seventh they began to collect ballast for the Hecla, to make up for the expenditure of stores.

The coldest part of the year was now approaching; yet the sun had sufficient power to affect the thermometer, which rose from 40 deg. to 35 deg. when exposed to its rays. The distance at which sounds were heard in the open air during the continuance of this intense cold was truly surprising. Conversation carried on a mile off could be distinctly heard. The smoke from the ships, too, owing to the difficulty it has to rise in a low temperature, was carried horizontally to a great distance. On the 15th, the mercury sunk to 55 deg. below zero, which was the most intense degree of cold observed during the winter. Mercury was malleable in this state of the atmosphere.

From this time the temperature gradually rose. The length of the days had so much increased by the 26th of February, that a very sensible twilight was visible in the north.

For the last three or four days of April, the snow on the black cloth of the housing had begun to thaw a little during a few hours in the middle of the day, and on the 30th so rapid a change took place in the temperature of the atmosphere, that the thermometer stood at the freezing, or, as it may more properly be termed in this climate, the thawing point, being the first time that such an event had occurred for nearly eight months, or since the 9th of the preceding September.

This rapid change in the weather revived their hopes of a speedy departure from Melville Island; and they all had sanguine expectations of leaving their winter quarters before July. On the first of May, however, it blew a gale, and the sun was seen at midnight for the first time that season. On the 6th, the people began the operation of cutting the ships out of the harbor; and on the 17th, the ships were once more afloat. On the 21st, some of the officers took a walk inland, and were able to fill a pint bottle with water from a pool of melted snow, which was the first they had seen; a proof of the extreme severity of the climate.

A perceptible change had now taken place in the ice. The upper surface was covered with innumerable pools of brackish water, so that the liberation of the sea might be daily expected. Being desirous of obtaining as much game as possible during the remainder of the time that must be passed in Winter Harbor, Captain Parry sent out hunting parties to remain ten or twelve miles inland, with orders to send whatever game they might procure, to the ships, and also to observe the ice from the hill tops, and report any change that might take place.

The dissolution of the ice continued daily, and on the 22d, it was observed to be in motion in the offing; settling to the eastward at the rate of a mile an hour. The dissolution of the ice of the harbor went on so rapidly, in the early part of July, that they were greatly surprised, on the 6th, in finding that in several of the pools of water, on its upper surface, holes were washed quite through to the sea beneath.

On the morning of the 26th, there being a space of clear water for three quarters of a mile to the southward, they took advantage of a northern breeze to run as far as the opening would permit, and then dropped anchor at the edge of the ice, intending to advance step by step as it separated. The ice across the entrance of the harbor in this spot, as well as that in the offing, appeared from the crow’s nest quite continuous and unbroken, with the same appearance of solidity as at midwinter.

On the 30th, the whole body of the ice was in motion toward the south-east, breaking away, for the first time, from the points at the entrance of the harbor. This rendering it probable that the ships would soon be released, Captain Parry furnished Lieutenant Liddon with instructions for his guidance during the coming season of operations, and appointed places of rendezvous in case of separation.

On the first of August, the harbor was clear of ice, and there appeared to be water in the direction of their intended course. At one P. M., every thing having been brought on board, they weighed anchor and ran out of Winter Harbor, in which they had passed ten entire months of the year, and a part of the two remaining ones, September and August.

After a few tacks, they had the mortification to perceive that the Griper sailed much worse than before, though great pains had been taken during her reëquipment to improve her qualities. By midnight the Hecla had gained eight miles to windward of her, and was obliged to heave to, to avoid parting company.

A southerly wind springing up the next day, made it probable that the ice would close in upon the ships, and they therefore began to look out for a situation where they might be secured inshore, behind some of the heavy grounded ice. At one o’clock they perceived that a heavy floe had already closed completely in with the land at a point a little to the west-ward of them. A proper place having been found for their purpose, the ships were hauled in and secured, the Griper’s bow resting on the beach, in order to allow the Hecla to lie in security without her. This place was so completely sheltered from the accession of the main ice, that Captain Parry began to think of taking the Griper’s crew on board the Hecla, and pursuing the voyage in that ship alone.

Every moment’s delay cofirmed Captain Parry in the opinion that it was expedient to attempt to penetrate to the southward, as soon as the ice would allow the ships to move at all, rather than persevere in pushing directly westward. He therefore ordered Lieutenant Liddon to run back a certain distance eastward as soon as he could, without waiting for the Hecla, should that ship still be detained, and to look out for any opening to the southward, which might seem favorable to the object in view, and then wait for the Hecla.

On the 15th, Lieutenant Liddon was enabled to sail, in the execution of his orders. Captain Parry, however, observing that the Griper made little or no way, hoisted the signal of recall, with the intention of making one more attempt to penetrate westward. The ice had so far separated as to allow him to sail a mile and a half along shore, when he was again stopped. He was fortunate in finding a tolerably secure situation for the Hecla within the grounded ice; but the Griper was left by the wind in a place where, should the ice press upon her, there could be no hope of safety. For fear of the worst, Captain Parry made preparations to send parties to assist the Griper’s company, if the wreck should become unavoidable; but they were shortly after relieved from all anxiety on this account, by the recession of the ice from the shore, whereby the Griper was enabled to gain a station near the Hecla.

The ice to the west and southwest, as seen from their present station, gave them no reason to expect a speedy opening in the desired direction. It apeared as solid and compact as so much land; to which the inequalities of the surface gave it no small resemblance. Captain Parry, therefore, determined to defer the attempt to try a more southern latitude no longer.

The point at which the ships were now lying, and which is the westernmost to which Arctic navigation has ever been carried, is in latitude 74 deg. 26 min. 25 sec., and longitude 113 deg. 64 min. 43 sec. Cape Dundas seen yet farther west, is in longitude 113 deg. 57 min. 35 sec., by which the length of Melville island appears to be about a hundred and thirty-five miles, and its breadth, at the meridian of Winter Harbor, from forty to fifty miles.

At nine P. M., they were abreast of the place where they had landed on the 5th, and here perceived that the ice closed with the land a little to the eastward. There was no safety for the ships, unless they could get past one of the small points at the embouchure of a revine, against which a floe was setting the smaller pieces of ice and had blocked up the passage before they arrived. After heaving two hours at the halsers, they succeeded in getting through, and moored the ships to some very heavy grounded ice near the beach. Hares were observed here, feeding on the sides of the cliffs, and a few ptarmigans were seen. The place where the Hecla was now secured, being the only one of the kind which could be found, was a little harbor, formed, as usual, by the grounded ice, some of which was fixed to the bottom in ten or twelve fathoms. One side of the entrance to this harbor consisted of masses of floes, very regular in their shape, placed quite horizontally, and broken off so exactly perpendicular, as to resemble a handsome, well-built wharf. On the opposite side, however, the masses to which they looked for security were themselves rather terrific objects, as they leaned over so much towards the ship, as to give the appearance of their being in the act of falling upon her deck; and as a very trifling concussion often produces the fall of much heavier masses of ice, when in appearance very firmly fixed to the ground, Captain Parry gave orders that no guns should be fired near the ship during her continuance in this situation. The Griper was of necessity made fast near the beach, in rather an exposed situation, and her rudder unshipped, in readiness for the ice coming in; it remained quiet, however, though quite close, during the day, the weather being calm and fine.

In the evening of the 18th, some heavy pieces of grounded ice to which the bow halser of the Hecla was fastened, fell off into the water, snapping the rope without injuring the ship. Nevertheless, as every alteration of this kind must materially change the centre of gravity of the whole mass, it was thought prudent to move the Hecla out of her harbor to the place where the Griper was lying, lest some of the bergs should fall upon her deck and crush or sink her.

On the 20th and 21st, the young ice formed to such a degree, as to cement together all the loose ice about the ships; nor did it thaw on either of those days, though the sun shone clearly upon it for several hours. The main body remained close and firm in every direction. The same state of things obtained on the 22d, and in the morning of the 23d, the young ice was an inch and a half thick. A breeze springing up from the westward put it in motion, so that by noon the ships were able to warp out and proceed eastward. In a short time, however, the ice closed so firmly around them that they became wholly unmanageable, and received many blows, more severe than any they had received before. After having drifted with the ice six miles, they were made fast to some grounded ice.

The situation in which the ships were now placed, and the shortness of the navigable season, caused great anxiety. Judging from the experience of 1819, it was reasonable to conclude that about the 7th of September, was the limit beyond which the ships could not keep the sea with any degree of safety or prospect of success; but being thoroughly impressed with the idea that it was incumbent on him to make every possible effort, Captain Parry determined to extend this limit to the 14th of September, before which date the winter would have set in. The prospect was not very encouraging, even with this extension; they had only advanced sixty miles this season, and the distance to Icy Cape was yet between eight and nine hundred miles, supposing them to find a clear passage. The provisions, too, were so far reduced in quantity, that by no means could they be made to hold out longer than till April, 1822, and the deficiency of fuel was even more apparent. These and other minor considerations, induced Captain Parry to ask the advice and opinions of his officers relative to the expediency of returning to England. They all agreed that any attempt to penetrate farther westward in their present parallel, would be fruitless, and attended with loss of time that might be more profitably employed elswhere. They advised that the vessel should run back along the edge of the ice, in order to look for an opening that might lead toward the American continent, and after a reasonable time spent in the search, to return to England. This advice agreeing with his own opinions, Captain Parry resolved to comply with it.

On the twenty-fourth the ships moved again, and found less ice as they advanced, so that when, on the morning of the 27th, they cleared the east end of Melville Island, the navigable channel was not less than ten miles wide. A constant look-out was kept from the crow’s nest for an opening to the south, but none occurred. The weather was hazy, so much so that they were again obliged to steer the ships one by the other. As they proceeded, several islands hitherto unknown, were discovered, but no opening was seen in the ice, and when they had, on the 30th, reached longitude 90 degrees, they became satisfied that there was no possibility of effecting their object, and Captain Parry, therefore, conceived it to be his duty to return forthwith to England, in order that no time might be lost in following up his discoveries, if his government should deem fit to do so.

The Hecla arrived at the Orkney Islands on the 28th of October; and the Griper on the first of November. Thus did they return from a voyage of eighteen months duration, in good health and spirits, with the loss of only one man.

Second Voyage.—​The discoveries made by the expedition under Captain Parry in 1819–20, being believed to afford a strong presumption of the existence of a Northwest Passage to the Pacific Ocean, the British government commanded that another attempt should be made to discover it. The Hecla having been found well adapted to this kind of service, the Fury, a ship of precisely the same class, was selected to accompany her. Captain George F. Lyon was appointed to command the Hecla, and Captain Parry, whose efforts had made him justly celebrated, was commissioned to command the expedition.

Some alterations in the interior arrangements of the vessels, such as were suggested by the experience of Captain Parry, were made. Among these was an apparatus for melting snow, which was found very useful, and was so little in the way that it could not even be seen. Cots and hammocks were substituted for the former bed places, and some improvements were made in the manner of victualing the ships.

In his official instructions, Captain Parry was directed to proceed into Hudson’s Strait, till he should meet the ice, when the Nautilus Transport, which was placed at his disposal, was to be cleared of its provisions and stores. He was then to penetrate westward, till he should reach some land which he should be convinced was a part of the American continent, at some point north of Wager River. If he reached the Pacific, he was to proceed to Kamschatka; thence to Canton or the Sandwich Islands, and thence to England, by whatever route he might deem most convenient.

Accordingly, in the beginning of April, 1821, the three vessels sailed from England. Nothing worthy of note occurred till they met with the ice in Davis’ Strait, where the vessels were moored to an iceberg, and the Nautilus was unladen. This done, she parted company on the 1st of July, and sailed for England, while the Fury and Hecla stood towards the ice, which they reached a little before noon, and ran along its edge, keeping as much to the westward as possible.

On the 24th they reached the Savage Islands, and landed on one of them. They are many—​all exhibiting the same appearance of utter sterility. That on which they landed was from six to eight hundred feet above the level of the sea. Here they noticed the same appearances of an Esquimaux camp as had been seen at Melville Island, with a few pieces of fir, which proved that the savages, in these parts, were not in want of wood, since they could afford to leave it behind them. Hares and several species of birds were seen on this island.

As soon as the exploring party returned on board, all sail was made to the westward, the sea being now nearly free from ice. The next day the hills on the coast of Labrador were seen. Thus they kept on till the 31st, discovering islands as they proceeded. On the afternoon of this day, an Esquimaux oomiak was seen coming from the shore of Salisbury Island, under sail, accompanied by eight kayaks. In this boat were sixteen persons, of which two were men, and the rest women and children. In dress and personal appearance, these people did not differ from the Esquimaux last seen, but their behavior was far less offensive.

On the first of August, the ships kept on westward between Nottingham Island and the north shore, which is fringed with small islands. This channel is about twelve miles wide. In the course of the morning, some Esquimaux came to the ships from the main land, bringing oil, skin dresses, and walrus’ tusks, which they exchanged for any trifle that was offered. They also offered toys for sale, such as models of canoes, weapons, etc. Here, for the first time, the navigators saw the dresses of the savages lined with the skins of birds, having the feathers inside.

Having run forty miles in the night without seeing any ice, they came the next morning to a pack so close as to prevent their farther progress. The ships received very heavy blows, and with considerable difficulty got clear of it. They ran along the edge several miles to the northward, in search of an opening; but finding none, they stood back to the southwest, to try what could be done in that quarter.

The expedition being now about to enter upon ground hitherto unexplored, it became necessary for Captain Parry to decide on the route he should pursue with most advantage; and after mature deliberation, he came to the resolution to attempt a direct passage of the Frozen Strait, though he greatly feared the loss of time that would be the consequence of a failure.

After contending with the ice for several days, on the 11th, the ship succeeded in getting to the northern land, and a party of the officers landed upon a small rock, or islet, a mile and a half from the shore.

Soon after the party returned on board, a fresh gale from the north compelled them to make the ships fast to the largest floe near, in order not to lose much ground. The gale moderated about noon, and they cast off from the floe and made sail. They made considerable progress till evening, when the ice closed round them again. After sunset on the 13th, they descried land to the westward, which they believed to be a part of the continent. Yet they continued closely beset, and on the 15th the Hecla drifted back with the ice, out of sight of her consort. This was partly owing to the extraordinnry refraction upon the horizon, which apparently diminished and distorted objects, at no great distance, in a wonderful manner. On the next day, however, the Hecla hove in sight, and upon which the Fury set sail and beat through the channel. On the morning of the 17th, the weather being too foggy to move, parties from both ships went on shore, to examine the country and to procure specimens of its natural productions.

As soon as the weather cleared up, they returned on board, and sailed to the northeast, where alone they had any chance of finding an outlet. Having ascertained the continuity of land round this inlet, they gave it the name of the Duke of York’s Bay. It was now certain that the object of the expedition could not be effected in that direction; and they therefore sailed back, through the narrow channel by which they had entered, with the intention of seeking an opening further north, without delay.

It would be tedious to tell of every obstacle that hindered or delayed the ships. They pursued their intended course along the shore, when the wind and weather permitted; and when unavoidably detained, they landed. Among other places, they landed at Repulse Bay, in latitude 66 deg. 30 min. and longitude 86 deg. 30 min. From all indications, the water through which they had been sailing, was the imperfectly known Frozen Strait; and Captain Parry resolved to keep along the land to the northward, and examine every bend or inlet, which might appear likely to afford a practicable passage to the westward.

Sailing on the 23d along the northern shore of Frozen Strait, it was observed that the land appeared in one place to consist of islands only, behind which no land was visible. This part of the coast appeared to Captain Parry so favorable to the accomplishment of his enterprise, that he resolved to examine it more closely. Having beat up to the mouth of an opening that seemed practicable, he found the greater part of the channel filled with a body of ice, rendering examinations in ships or boats impossible. The only means, therefore, of exploring it were, to despatch a party by land. Captain Lyon undertook this service, accompanied by five persons, furnished with a tent and four days’ provision. The ships were anchored to await his return a mile from the shore. The flood tide came out of this inlet, a circumstance that materially strengthened their hopes of success.

Captain Lyon first landed on an island, and then crossed a strait to a steep point. Thence proceeding northward to a hill, he found the strait continuous, and returned to the ships. On this short journey, he passed the remains of a great many Esquimaux habitations. The result of Captain Lyon’s excursion was to convince all concerned, that a communication existed here between Frozen Strait and a sea to the northward and eastward of it, and Captain Parry determined to explore it as far as possible.

After drifting about some time in the ice, and more than once narrowly escaping shipwreck, measures were taken to survey this part of the Frozen strait; but little knowledge was gained by all their efforts. On the 1st of September, the prospect of getting northward, was by no means encouraging; and they were, from time to time, beset with ice, and drifted back. On the 3d, they found that after a laborious investigation, which had occupied a whole month, they had returned to nearly the same spot where they had been on the 6th of August, near Southampton Island.

On the 1st of October, rain fell, which immediately freezing, made the decks and ropes as smooth as glass. For several days the thermometer had been below the freezing point, and sometimes as low as 20 deg. at night, which change, together with the altered aspect of the land, and the rapid formation of young ice near the shores, gave notice of the approach of winter. The commencement of this dreary season in these regions may, indeed, be dated from the time when the earth no longer receives and radiates heat enough to melt the snow which falls upon it.

On the 8th the young ice on the surface began to give them warning that the navigation of those seas was nearly eneed for the season. When the young ice has acquired the thickness of half an inch, and is of considerable extent, a ship must be stopped by it, unless favored by a strong and fair wind; and even when making progress, is not under the control of the helmsman, depending mostly on the thickness of the ice on one bow or the other. Boats cannot be employed in such situations with much effect.

When to these difficulties were added the disadvantage of a temperature near zero, and twelve hours of daily darkness, Captain Parry became convinced that it was expedient to place the ships in the most secure situation that could be found, rather than run the risk of being permanently detached from the land by attempting to gain the continent. Accordingly a canal was sawed into a harbor on the south side of a small island, to which the name of Winter Island was given, and the ships were warped to their winter stations. Thus ended their operations for the season, after having explored a portion of coast six hundred miles in extent, one half of which belonged to the continent of America.

The arrangements for passing the winter comfortably were pretty much the same as those which had been made at Melville Island, with some improvements, suggested by former experience. The theatre was better fitted than before, and a school was established for the benefit of such of the crews as might wish to learn to read and write. The lower deck of the Fury was fitted for a church, and the companies of both ships attended during the winter. The men were sent to walk on shore for exercise, whenever the weather was favorable; and finger-posts were erected in various parts of the island, to prevent them from losing their way.

On the 11th of December, the weather being tolerably clear, stars of the third magnitude were visible to the naked eye at forty minutes past eight, and those of the second magnitude till a quarter past nine, which may give some idea of the degree of light at this period. The twilight was, of course, very long, and the redness of the sun’s rays might be seen more than three hours after its setting.

On the 13th, the thermometer fell to 31 deg., being the lowest temperature yet experienced. Rising on the 17th to 5 deg., the play of The Poor Gentleman was performed. On Christmas eve the theatre was again put in requisition, and the next day was celebrated to the utmost extent their means would allow. Among the luxuries of the Christmas dinner were a few joints of English roast beef, which had been preserved expressly for the occasion, the first and last ever eaten in Frozen Strait.

The same occupations, that had employed them at Melville Island served to beguile the time this winter. Nothing material occurred till the first of February, unless the circumstance of seeing a white bear may be accounted so.

On the first of February, a number of Esquimaux were seen coming toward the ships over the ice, and the appearance of huts was discovered on the shore with a telescope. Captains Parry and Lyon, with three or four others, set out to meet the natives who were slowly approaching, to the number of twenty-five. As the officers advanced, they stood still, awaiting their approach. They had no arms, but carried only a few strips of whalebone, which they had brought for a peace-offering, and which the gentlemen immediately purchased for a few small nails and beads. There were several women and children with the party, and the behavior of all was quite peaceable and orderly. They were all handsomely dressed in deerskins, and some had double suits.

However quiet these savages were, they did not exhibit the slightest signs of apprehension or distrust. As soon as some understanding was established, the officers expressed a wish to visit their huts, and the Esquimaux readily complying, they all set out together. The savages were greatly astonished on the way, to see a large dog, belonging to the whites, fetch and carry; and the children could scarcely contain their joy when Captain Lyon gave them a stick to throw, and the dog brought it back to them. An infirm old man, who supported himself with a staff, which he much needed, was left behind by his companions, who took no notice of his infirmities, but left him to find his way as he might, without reluctance or scruple.

An intercourse was kept up between the ships and the Esquimaux, as long as the latter remained there, which was until the 23d of May, when they set off with all their goods and chattels, including a parting gift from Captain Parry.

The caulking of the bows being now completed, the ships were released from the ice by sawing around them; an operation which made them rise in the water six inches and a half, in consequence of the buoyancy occasioned by the winter’s expenditure.

An increased extent of open water appeared in the offing, Captain Lyon again departed, accompanied by nine persons, with a tent, fuel, and provisions for twenty days. Each individual was furnished with a light sledge, to draw his provision and baggage, which might weigh about an hundred pounds. Their instructions were, after gaining the continent to proceed along the coast and examine it, and to make observations respecting the tides and the natural productions of the country.

He set out on the 8th of May, and rested on the 9th at a low, rocky point, which he called Point Belford. Proceeding northward, he had given the following names successively to different parts of the coast, viz: Blake’s Bay, Adderly’s Bluff, Palmer Bay, Point Elizabeth, and Cape William; when, finding his provision and fuel half expended, he judged it prudent to return.

Flocks of birds now began to give token of returning summer, and, on the 25th, some Esquimaux, who came from an encampment to the westward, reported having seen a great many reindeer. Yet at the close of May it was a matter of general regret that there was little prospect of the departure of the ice, and that few indications of a thaw had been observed. The navigators could not fail to remember that at Melville Island, though so much farther north, the season had, on the same day two years before, advanced full as far as now at Winter Island. The parts of the land which were most bare were the smooth, round tops of the hills, on some of which were little pools of water. There were also, on the low lands, a few dark, uncovered patches, looking, in the snow, like islets in the sea. Vegetation seemed striving to commence, and a few tufts of saxifrage oppositifolia, when closely examined, discovered some signs of life. Such was the state of things on shore: upon the ice, appearances were as unpromising. Except in the immediate vicinity of the ships, where from incessant trampling, and the deposit of various stores upon the ice, some heat had been absorbed artifically, there was no perceptible sign of dissolution on the upper surface, where six or seven inches of snow yet remained on every part. In these circumstances, Captain Parry resolved to try what could be done to release the ships by cutting and sawing. Arrangements were, therefore, made for getting everything on board, and for commencing this laborious work.

The operation began on the 3d of June, and was completed in sixteen days, by severe and persevering labor. In the meanwhile, Nature seemed unwilling to lend our mariners any aid: the dissolution of the ice was so slow as scarcely to be perceptible. However, it was so weakened by the cut made, that the first pressure from without effected a rupture, so that a favorable breeze only was needed, to enable the ships to put to sea. On the 2d of July, the wind, for the first time, became fair, and the ships sailed.

Winter Island is ten miles and a half in length, from north-west by north, to south-east by south, and its average breadth from eight to ten miles. It is what seamen call rather low land; the height of the south-east point, which was named Cape Fisher, out of respect to the chaplain and astronomer, being seventy-six feet, and none of the hills above three times that height. The outline of the land is smooth, and in the summer, when free from snow, presents a brown appearance. Several miles of the north-west end of the island are so low and level, that when the snow lay thick upon it, our travelers could only distinguish it from the sea by the absence of hummocks of ice.

The basis of the island is gneiss rock, much of which is of a gray color, but in many places also the feldspar is so predominant as to give a bright and red appearance to the rocks, especially about Cape Fisher, where also some broad veins of quartz are seen intersecting the gneiss; and both this and the feldspar are very commonly accompanied by a green substance, which appeared to be pistacite, and which usually occurs as a thin lamina adhering strongly to the others. In many specimens these three are united, the feldspar and quartz displaying tolerably perfect crystals. In some of the gneiss small red garnets are abundant, as also in mica-slate. In lumps of granite, which are found detached upon the surface, the mica sometimes occurs in white plates, and in other specimens is of a dirty brown color. There are several varieties of mica-slate, and some of these have a brilliant metallic appearance, like silver; those which are most so, crumble very easily to pieces. The most common stone next to those already mentioned is lime, which is principally schistose, and of a white color. Many pieces of this substance, on being broken, present impressions of fossil-shells, and some have also brown waved lines running quite through them. Nodules of flint occur in some masses of lime, but they are not common. Iron pyrites is found in large lumps of black stone, tinged externally with the oxyde of iron: it is here and there met with in small perfect cubes.

Sailing northward along the coast, the ships were soon stopped by the ice. While they remained stationary, a party of natives was discovered on shore, who proved to be their neighbors of Winter Island. They were cordially greeted by the officers and seamen as old acquaintances, and loaded with presents. On leaving the ships, one of them sent Captain Parry a piece of seal skin as a present, without the least prospect or expectation of a return. We mention this trifling incident, merely because it was the first and only undeniable proof of gratitude observed among these people.

Slowly and painfully our navigators pursued their course northward, always with difficulty and often with great danger. On the 12th of the month, they discovered the mouth of a considerable river, and Captain Parry went on shore to examine it. The water was fresh, and the stream varied in breadth from four hundred yards to the third of a mile. After ascending a mile and a half, the Captain heard the roar of a waterfall. At the mouth, the banks of the river were about two hundred feet high, but here they rose much higher, and the water ran on a more elevated level. As Captain Parry proceeded inland, he found the stream rushing with great fury over two small cataracts. Then turning a right angle of the river, he perceived a greater spray, occasioned by a very magnificent fall. Where the stream begins its descent it is contracted to the breadth of one hundred and fifty feet, the channel being worn in a solid bed of gneiss rock. After falling about fifteen feet, at an angle of thirty degrees, the river is again narrowed to forty yards, and as if collecting its strength for a great effort, is precipitated ninety feet, in one unbroken mass. A cloud of spray rises from the cataract, surmounted by an uncommonly vivid rainbow. The basin which receives the fall is circular and about four hundred yards in diameter, rather wider than the river immediately below. Above the cataract, the stream winds in the most romantic manner imaginable among the hills, with a smooth and unruffled surface. To this beautiful water-course Captain Parry gave the name of Barrow’s River. Its entrance is in latitude 67 deg. 18 min. 05 sec., and longitude 81 deg. 25 min. 20 sec.

The next day large herds of walrusses were seen upon the drift ice, and all the boats were sent to kill some for the sake of the oil. The sportsmen found them lying huddled together, piled upon one another. They waited quietly to be shot, and were not greatly alarmed even after one or two volleys. They suffered the people to debark on the ice near them, but on their near approach displayed a somewhat pugnacious purpose. After they got into the water three were struck with harpoons and killed. When first wounded, they were quite furious: one of them resolutely attacked Captain Lyon’s boat, and injured it with his tusks. Those which remained uninjured surrounded the wounded animals, and struck them with their tusks; whether to assist their escape, or with a hostile intention, cannot be ascertained. Two of the animals killed were females, and one weighed over fifteen hundred pounds, which was not considered an uncommon bulk. The strength of the walrus is very great. One of them being touched with an oar, seized it with his flippers, and snapped it with the utmost ease. Many of these animals had young ones, which, when assailed, they carried off, either between their flippers or on their backs. They were most easily killed with musket-balls, even after being struck with the harpoon, as their skins are so tough as to resist a whaling lance.

On the 15th, the ships reached Igloolik, for the situation of which we refer our readers to the map. Here they found a new band of Exquimaux, who proved to be the acquaintances and relatives of those of Winter Island. These people dwelt not in snow huts, but in tents, made of the skins of the walrus and seal, the former shaved thin enough to allow the transmission of light. They were clumsily made, and supported by a kind of tent-pole, constructed by tying bones or deer’s horns together. The edges of the tents were kept down by placing stones upon them. To keep the whole fabric erect, a thong was extended from the top to a large stone at the distance of a few yards. These abiding places had little appearance of affording comfort or convenience.

From these people Captain Parry learned that he had unquestionably been coasting the continent. He then determined to attempt to penetrate a large inlet, stretching west-ward from Igloolik, which, at the time of his arrival, was closed by a fixed barrier of ice, and which he named The Strait of the Fury and Hecla. We shall not follow the navigators in their arduous but unsuccessful efforts to penetrate west-ward at this point, as we have already alloted more space to their adventures than consists with our intended limits. Suffice it to say, that after persevering in the attempt till the 30th of September, they found themselves as far from the attainment of their object as at first. The cold weather then setting in, they were compelled to lay the ships up at Igloolik.

One important point was settled, however, beyond the possibility of doubt. Finding his researches ineffectual by water, Captain Parry undertook to explore the Strait of the Fury and Hecla by land. He found it continuous, and pursued his journey far enough to see the open sea beyond, thus proving the existence of a passage at this point, though it was then, and probably ever will be, closed by an insurmountable barrier of ice. Besides this result of his endeavors, the position of Cockburn Island, and indeed of all the lands adjacent to Igloolik, was ascertained, and correctly laid down on the map.

Besides the Esquimaux found at Igloolik, our friends had the society of the savages of Winter Island, who rejoined them shortly after their arrival. We are sorry that we cannot relate the adventures and observations of this winter, as they are extremely entertaining; but as they are not important in their nature, we trust to be excused for omitting them.

Igloolik is a low island, ten miles long and six broad, and exhibits the same appearance of sterility as the adjacent continent, excepting in places which have been inhabited by the natives. There, the accumulation of animal substances has produced a luxuriant vegetation. In some parts there are spots several hundred yards in extent, covered with bright green moss. The whole land seems to be composed of innumerable fragments of thin schistose limestone, some of which contain the impressions of fossil remains, while others present the cellular structure usually found in madreporite. The interior is almost an entire swamp; but there are rising grounds, which, with the remains of Esquimaux habitations upon them, are excellent landmarks.

East of Igloolik is a group of small islands called by Captain Parry Calthorpe Islands. Like almost all the land in this vicinity, they are low, but their geology differs from that of Igloolik, and resembles that of Winter Island, being composed of gneiss. Two of this group, however, are high and rugged. From the top of one of these there is a view of the adjacent shores.

The entrance of the Strait of the Fury and Hecla is about three miles wide, and is formed by two projecting headlands between which the tide rushes with great velocity. The south shore is high, but of gradual ascent, perfectly smooth and composed of beautifully variegated sand-stone. Beyond the entrance the land is bold and mountainous. Captain Parry, who it will be remembered explored the southern shore of the Strait, states the hills to consist of gray gneiss and red granite, rising, in some instances, a thousand feet above the level of the sea. In some places he saw slate, and in others sand-stone. He has left no positive data, by which we may determine the length of this Strait; but as he was rather more than a day in accomplishing the distance on foot, by a circuitous route, we may conclude that it does not exceed fifteen or twenty miles. From the point where his journey terminated he saw a continuous sea to the westward, open and unobstructed save by ice and by one small island.

There are several islands in the Strait of the Fury and Hecla. On one of these (Liddon Island) abundance of beautifully veined clay iron-stone was found. The other minerals were asbestos, crystals of carbonate of lime, and a great variety of sand-stone, of which the island is formed.

Amherst Island is flat, and on the northern part is formed of black slate, with strong indications of coal. This part of the island is utterly bare of vegetation. In a low cliff of black and rugged slate there is a beautiful and romantic grotto. The water oozing through the sides and roof, has formed the most brilliant stalactites, which form a splendid contrast with the shady part of the ebon grotto behind. The other part of the island is of clay and limestone, on which there is a very scanty covering of shriveled grass and moss.

The winter in Igloolik was spent like the preceding one, in amusements on board ship, and intercourse with the Esquimaux.

On the 9th of August the ships ran out of their harbor, where they had been detained three hundred and nineteen days. They were so embarrassed by the ice, that little use could be made of their sails; nevertheless, by the 30th of the month they passed Winter Island, having been carried three degrees by the drift in which they were beset. On the 9th of October, they made the Orkney Islands, and on the 10th reached Lerwick in Shetland, where they were received with many congratulations on their safe return.

Third Voyage. The British Government having resolved to fit out a third expedition, under Captain Parry, the Hecla and Fury were made ready for sea, the latter under the command of Captain Hoppner, and sailed from England on the 16th of May 1824. They were to attempt the northwest passage at Prince Regent’s Inlet. Having crossed the Atlantic without any material adventure, they made the bay of Lievely in Disko Island on the 5th of July.

Sailing up Baffin’s Bay, on the 17th the ships came to ice, and after many obstructions, only penetrated seventy miles to the westward. Here they encountered a hard gale, and sustained several shocks that would have crushed any ship of ordinary strength. They reached Lancaster’s Sound on the 10th of September. The winds not being favorable, the ships made small progress, and on the 13th the crews had the mortification to perceive the sea ahead covered with ice, in attempting to penetrate which they were soon immovably beset. Nevertheless, the exertions of Captain Parry and his coadjutor were unremitting.

The officers landed at one place, a little east of Admiralty Inlet. The vegetation was, as usual in those regions, very scanty. With great exertion and extreme difficulty, the expedition reached Port Bowen in Prince Regent’s Inlet, on the 27th, where, by the middle of October, Captain Parry deemed it advisable to lay up the ships for the winter. Several journeys inland proved the country to be exceedingly broken and rugged; so much so that the researches of the explorers were of necessity confined to a very limited extent.

About midnight on the 27th of January, a brilliant display of the Aurora Borealis was observed. It broke out in a single compact mass of yellow light, appearing but a short distance above the land. This light, notwithstanding its general continuity, sometimes appeared to be composed of numerous groups of rays, compressed laterally, as it were, into one, its limits to right and left being well defined and nearly vertical. Though always very brilliant, it constantly varied in intensity; and this appeared to be produced by one volume of light overlaying another, as we see the darkness of smoke increase when cloud rolls over cloud. While some of the officers were admiring the exceeding beauty of the phenomenon, they were suddenly astonished at seeing a brilliant ray shoot down from the general mass between them and the land, thence distant about three thousand yards.

The principal animals seen were bears, foxes, hares and mice, but no deer or wolves. These appeared but rarely, and the same may be said of the feathered creation. In July, a canal was sawed in the ice, and the ships were towed to sea. Captain Parry hoped to sail over to the western shore of the inlet, but he had only made eight miles in the intended direction, when he was stopped by the ice. As no opening appeared in that quarter, he determined to try to cross more to the northward. The most he gained was some knowledge of the character of the shores.

On the 30th of July, the ships being beset close to the land, a hard gale brought the ice close upon them. The Hecla received no damage but the breaking of two or three hawsers; but the Fury was forced on shore. She was heaved off again, with little injury, but this was but the commencement of her misfortunes. On the 1st of July, she was again nipped, and so severely strained as to leak a great deal. As the tide fell, her stern, which was aground, was lifted several feet, and the Hecla also remained aground. No place was found where the Fury might be hove down to repair the damage, as the shore was everywhere lined with masses of grounded ice. The ships were again made to float, but it was found, notwithstanding incessant labor on board the Fury, that four pumps constantly going could hardly keep the water under. In these circumstances the only harbor that could be found was formed by grounded masses of ice, within which the water was from three to four fathoms deep at low tide.

On the night of the 2d, the ice came in with great violence, and again forced the Fury on shore. The strength and number of the Hecla’s hawsers only saved her from sharing the same fate. In the meanwhile the crew of the Fury were completely exhausted by labor, and their hands had become so sore by the constant friction of the ropes that they could no longer handle them without mittens. In this situation it was determined to land the stores and provisions of the vessel, in order that she might undergo a complete repair.

Accordingly anchors were carried to the beach, by which the grounded icebergs that formed the harbor were secured in their position, thus enclosing a space just sufficient to admit both ships. In this position a great part of the Fury’s stores were landed. The injury was found to be more severe than had at first been supposed; indeed, it appeared that the compactness of her fabric had alone saved her from sinking. Nevertheless, no exertion was spared to render her seaworthy again, though the daily pressure of the ice was another, and a very great disadvantage.

In spite of every effort, it was found impossible to save the Fury, and the Hecla was greatly endangered in the attempt. She was compelled to leave the land and drift about among the ice, to avoid being forced on shore. On returning, Captain Parry found that the Fury had been driven farther on the beach than before, and nine feet of water were in her hold. Her keel and bottom were more injured than ever. The first glance satisfied Captain Parry that the vessel could never return to England. By and with the advice of a council of his officers, therefore, he decided to leave her to her fate, and as his provisions would barely suffice for another twelvemonth, to return home. In pursuance of this resolution the Hecla reached Sheerness on the 21st of October. On the eastern shore of Prince Regent’s Inlet is Cape Kater, the most southern point attained by the ships in this expedition. It is in latitude 71 deg. 53 min. 30 sec. and longitude 90 deg. 03 min. 45 sec.

This intrepid navigator was born at Spilsby, in Lincolnshire, in the year 1786. In 1800, he went as a midshipman, on board the Polyphemus; and, in 1802, proceeded with Captain Flinders, to New Holland, in the Investigator, from which vessel, on its arrival at Port Jackson, in July, 1803, he was removed, as supernumerary master’s-mate, to the Porpoise storeship, and was shortly afterwards wrecked on a coral reef. He then joined the Bellerophon, in which he was engaged at the battle of Trafalgar; and, some time after, was appointed an acting lieutenant of the Bedford, in which he accompanied the royal family of Portugal from Lisbon to South America; and, returning to Europe, assisted at the blockade of Flushing, where he continued till 1814, when the Bedford was ordered out as part of the expedition against New Orleans, where he greatly distinguished himself by his skill and valor. In 1815, he was made first lieutenant of the Forth; and, in January, 1818, was appointed to the command of the Trent brig, then about to accompany Captain Buchan on a voyage to Spitzbergen; and, on his return, he offered to undertake a journey to the North Pole, from the shores of the former, by traveling in sledge-boats across the ice.

In the early part of 1819, he was selected to head an expedition, over land, from Hudson’s Bay, to the Arctic Ocean; and having embarked at Gravesend, on the 23d of May, arrived at the former place on the 30th of August; and, on the 9th of September, began to ascend the streams between York Factory and Cumberland House, a journey of six hundred and ninety miles, which he performed in about six weeks, having been nearly killed by an accident, which he thus relates:—​‘In the afternoon, whilst on my way to superintend the operations of the men, I had the misfortune to slip from the summit of a rock into the river, betwixt two of the falls. My attempts to regain the bank were, for a time, ineffectual, owing to the rocks within my reach having been worn smooth by the action of the water; but, after I had been carried a considerable distance down the stream, I caught hold of a willow, by which I held until two gentlemen came in a boat to my assistance.’ From Cumberland House he proceeded along the snow, to Fort Chepywan, where he arrived on the 26th of March, 1820, after having walked eight hundred and fifty-seven miles, with a weight on his ancles, the whole distance, of nearly three pounds; and in the course of which, he describes the cold to have been so severe, that ‘the tea froze in the tin pots before it could be raised to the mouth, and even a mixture of spirits and water became thick by congelation.’ On the 29th of July, he arrived at Fort Providence, whence he proceeded to the Yellow Knife River, and directed his course towards the Polar Sea, through a country never before visited by a European; wintering, on his way thither, at Fort Enterprise, near the head of the Copper Mine River, where he remained, in a hut built by the Canadians, till the end of June, 1821; during which time, he wrote great part of his journal, and in which year he was made a commander.

On the 7th of July, he reached the westerly part of the Copper Mine River; a few days afterwards, traversed the Copper Mountains, and pitching his tent beneath them, sent forward in advance, his two Esquimaux interpreters, to inform their countrymen of his approach, and of the object of his expedition. After reconnoitering the mouth of the Copper Mine River, and giving to one of the neighboring promontories the name of Cape Hearne, he embarked in a canoe, on the 21st of July, and ‘commenced the navigation of the Arctic Ocean, with a voyage before him of not less than one thousand two hundred geographical miles; Fort Churchill, on the western shore of Hudson’s Bay, being the nearest spot at which he could hope to meet with a civilized being.’ The tempestuous weather, however, the shortness of his provisions, and the fears of the Canadians, who were unwilling to proceed further, compelled him to land at Cape Flinders. Hence he proceeded along the coast to Point Turnagain, now called the Duke of York’s Archipelago; and having carried his researches so far as ‘to favor the opinion of those who contend for the practicability of a north-west passage,’ he, on the 25th of August, terminated his survey of the coast, at the mouth of Hood’s River, where he left, in a box, an account of his proceedings, for the information of Captain Parry, who was then exploring the Arctic Sea in an easterly direction.

On the 31st of August, Captain Franklin, having broken up his canoes to make smaller ones, commenced his return to Fort Chepywan, where he arrived in July, 1822, after one of the most appalling and disastrous journeys ever recorded. During the time it occupied, his principal food was tripe de roche, leather, and boiled bones; three of his companions died of cold and hunger, and two were murdered, and devoured unconsciously by the remainder. The nights, in addition to the danger attending them from the frequency of the wolves, were so chilly, that the tents of himself and his party were, every morning, surrounded with snow to the height of three or four feet; and the blankets that covered their bed so hardened with frost that it was with difficulty they could be folded. Several times Captain Franklin fainted from fatigue, and the ice on which he kept continually falling, prevented him from traveling at the rate of more than two or three miles per day; often had he to wade up to his waist through water, where the temperature was scarcely above the freezing point; and, on one occasion, he was upset in his canoe, and only prevented, by clinging to a rock, from being dashed to pieces in the cataracts of the rapids. The following extract from his journal, will give some idea of the sufferings he endured:—​‘A partridge being shot, the feathers were torn off, it was held to the fire a few minutes, and then divided into six portions. I and my companions ravenously devoured our shares, as it was the first morsel of flesh either of us had tasted for thirty-one days; unless, indeed, the small gristly particles which we found occasionally adhering to the pounded bones may be termed flesh.’ The delivery of Captain Franklin and his party from the death with which hunger, fatigue, and disease daily threatened them, was owing to the assistance of some Indian hunters, who came to them in their last stage of despair. ‘They treated us,’ says the captain, ‘with the utmost tenderness, gave us their snow-shoes, and walked without any themselves, keeping by our sides that they might lift us when we fell. They prepared our encampment, cooked for us, and fed us as if we had been children: evincing humanity that would have done honor to the most civilized people.’

On his arrival in England, Captain Franklin was made a post-captain; he married, in August, 1823, the daughter of William Penden, Esq., architect of the king’s stables at Brighton; and, at the end of the same year, submitted to Lord Bathurst ‘a plan for an expedition over-land to the mouth of the Mackenzie River, and thence, by sea, to the north-western extremity of America; with the combined object, also, of surveying the coast between the Mackenzie and Copper Mine Rivers;’ an expedition which he was permitted to superintend, upon his showing to government, that ‘in the proposed course, similar dangers to those of the former over-land expedition were not to be apprehended.’

Accordingly, on the 16th of February, 1825, he embarked at Liverpool, having undergone ‘a severe struggle between the feelings of affection and a sense of duty,’ in taking leave of his wife, whose death, then hourly expected, took place six days after his departure. On the 29th of June, he arrived at the Methye River, and, in the following August, at the left bank of the Mackenzie, whence he proceeded to the mouth of that river, and, shortly after, found salt water; in commemoration of which, he landed on an island which he had discovered, and hoisted on a pole a silk union-jack, sewed and given him by his wife, ‘under the express injunction that it was not to be unfurled before the expedition reached the sea.’ On leaving this island, which he called Garry’s, and where he had deposited, beneath a signal-pole, a letter for Captain Parry, he commenced his ascent of the Great Bear Lake River, on the banks of which he remained till the summer of 1826, when, in spite of many dangers and obstacles, he proceeded to about half-way between Mackenzie River and Icy Cape, in latitude 70 deg. 26 min. N., and longitude 148 deg. 52 min. W.; at which point he calculated he could not with safety proceed further. His feelings at being compelled to return, he thus expresses in his journal: ‘It was with no ordinary pain that I could now bring myself even to think of relinquishing the great object of my ambition, and of disappointing the flattering confidence that had been reposed in my exertions. But I had higher duties to perform than the gratification of my own feelings; and a mature consideration of all things, forced me to the conclusion that we had reached that point, beyond which perseverance would be rashness, and the best efforts must be fruitless.’

On the 1st of September, 1827, Captain Franklin arrived at Liverpool, from New York, where he had received every mark of attention both public and private; and, in the same year, he was presented by the Geographical Society of Paris, with their annual gold medal, value twelve hundred francs, and also elected a corresponding member of that institution. In November, 1828, he married a second time; in the following year had the honor of knighthood conferred upon him, and also the degree of D. C. L. by the University of Oxford; and, in 1830, he was appointed commander of the Rainbow. In both expeditions to the Arctic Sea, Captain Franklin was accompanied by Dr. Richardson, a journal of whose discoveries is appended to the former’s second narrative, which, as well as that containing an account of his first voyage, combines the most intense interest with the most valuable information, and is written with great spirit, elegance, and accuracy. In the course of his perilous journey, by sea and land, Captain Franklin evinced a contempt of personal danger in the pursuit of his enterprise, and a degree of kind-heartedness to, and consideration for, those who accompanied him, that has rendered him equally the pride of his friends, and an honor to his country.

On the 19th of May, 1845, Sir John sailed from England in search of the North West Passage. He had two vessels, the Erebus and Terror; the crews, officers, and men numbered one hundred and thirty-eight. On the 26th of July, sixty-eight days afterwards, they were seen by a whale ship, moored to an iceberg near the centre of Baffin’s Bay. No special anxiety was entertained respecting them until the beginning of 1848, for Franklin had intimated that the voyage would probably continue for three years, and that they might be the first to announce their own return. But as month after month passed away without any tidings, an anxious and painful sympathy sprung up in the public mind, and the British government determined that a search for the missing vessels should be made, in three different quarters, by three separate expeditions fitted out for that purpose.

One quarter, the region known as Boothia, was beyond the scope of these expeditions, and Lady Franklin determined to organize an expedition to explore that region. She appropriated all the means under her control, and a subscription supplied the deficiency. The Prince Albert, a vessel of ninety tons burthen, was fitted out at Aberdeen, and Captain Forsyth, of the Royal Navy, offered his gratuitous services as commander. At about the same time, Mr. Henry Grinnell, a wealthy merchant of New York, fitted out, at his own cost, two vessels,—​the Advance and the Rescue,—​and dispatched them to the Arctic Seas to aid in the search for Sir John. An exceedingly interesting narrative of the voyage has been published by Dr. Kane, the surgeon, naturalist and journalist of the expedition.

Time passed on, and all the vessels of the various expeditions returned to port without any tidings of the lost ones. In May, 1853, Mr. Grinnell again fitted out the Advance for the purpose of continuing the search, if necessary, for two years. She had a company of seventeen persons, under the command of Dr. Kane. She has been absent for over two years, and fears are entertained for the safety of her noble commander and his brave companions.

Subsequent to the departure of the Advance, the fate of Sir John Franklin and his crew was ascertained. They had perished of hunger and hardships, in attempting to reach the settlements of the Hudson’s Bay Company, by an overland journey from the Arctic Seas. Relics of the ill-starred voyagers were discovered by some agents of the company in the possession of the Esquimaux Indians. These relics consisted of philosophical instruments, watches, rings, spoons, etc., bearing the initials of Sir John and his companions. These had been picked up by the Indians at the place where the navigators had so miserably perished.

The vast continent of Africa, measuring 5000 miles in length, and about 4700 in its greatest breadth, and the area of which is calculated at 12,000,000 square miles, or nearly one-fourth of the entire land area of the globe, has presented greater obstacles to human enterprise than any other equal portion of the earth’s surface. The peculiar physical condition of Africa has operated as one cause of her isolation from the rest of the world. The other portions of our earth situated under the tropics consist generally either of sea, or of narrow peninsular tracts of land, the clusters of islands blown upon the sea-breeze. Africa, on the other hand, presents scarcely one gulf or sea-break in its vast outline. A consequence of this compact geographical shape of a continent, the greater part of which is within the torrid zone, is its subjection, throughout its entire extent, to the unmitigated influence of the sun’s heat. All that is noxious in climate we are accustomed to associate with Africa. Here stretching out into a boundless desert, where for days the traveler toils amid burning sands under a stifling sky—​there covered with dense and swampy jungle, breathing out pestilence, and teeming with all the repulsive forms of animal life, the African continent seems to defy the encroachments of European civilization. And although, probably, our ideas of these African horrors will be modified by more accurate knowledge, enough seems ascertained to prove that the lying open of interior Africa to the general flood of human influence will be among the last achievements of the exploring spirit of our race.

Notwithstanding the difficulties which lie in the way, Africa has at all times been an object of curiosity and interest to the inhabitants of the civilized parts of the earth; and scientific zeal, the desire of extending traffic, and even the mere thirst for adventure, have prompted many expeditions for the purpose of exploring its coast and making discoveries in its interior. The ancients appear to have acquired much knowledge of Africa, which was afterwards lost, and had to be reacquired by the moderns for themselves. The African coasts of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea were not only familiar to the ancient geographers, but were inhabited by populations which performed a conspicuous part in the general affairs of the world, and ranked high in the scale of civilization—​the Egyptians, Carthaginians, etc. Nor, if we may believe the evidence which exists in favor of the accounts of the circumnavigation of Africa by ancient navigators, were the other coasts of the continent—​those, namely, which were washed by the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean—​unvisited by northern ships. Regarding the interior of Africa, too, the knowledge possessed by the ancients, although very meagre in itself, was nearly as definite as that possessed by their modern descendants, until within a comparatively recent period. As far as the northern borders of the Great Desert, their own personal observation might be said to extend; and respecting the wandering tribes of black and savage people living farther to the south, they had received many vague notices. The Nile being one of the best-known rivers of the ancient world, its origin and course were matters of great interest, and the African geography of the ancients, in general, may be said to consist of speculations respecting this extraordinary river. The first mention made of the other great African river, the Niger, is by Ptolemy, who lived seventy years after Christ. Ptolemy believed that this river discharged itself ultimately into the Nile; others, however, did not admit this conclusion, and acknowledged that the real course of the Niger was a mystery.

Such are some of the more prominent points in the ancient geography of Africa. How wild and inacurate must have been the notion entertained respecting the shape and total extent of the African continent, may be judged from the fact, that one geographer describes it as an irregular figure of four sides, the south side running nearly parallel to the equator, but considerably to the north of it! Others, again, held forth the fearful picture of Central Africa as a vast burning plain, in which no green thing grew, and into which no living being could penetrate; and this hypothesis of an uninhabitable torrid zone became at length the generally received one.

The invasion of Africa by the Arab races in the seventh century wrought a great change in the condition of the northern half of that continent. Founding powerful states along the Mediterranean coasts, these enterprising Mohammedans, or Moors, as they were called, were able, by means of the camel, to effect a passage across the Desert which had baffled the ancients, and to hold intercourse with the negroes who lived on its southern border along the banks of the Niger and the shores of Lake Tchad. In some of the negro states the Arabs obtained a preponderance, and with others they carried on an influential and lucrative commerce. The consequence was a mixture of Moorish and negro blood among the inhabitants of the countries of Central Africa bordering on the Great Desert, as well as a general diffusion of certain scraps of the Mohammedan religion among the negro tribes. Hence it is that, in the innermost recesses of interior Africa at the present day, we find the negroes partly professing Paganism, partly Mohammedanism, but all practicing ceremonies and superstitions in which we observe the Pagan spirit with a slight Mohammedan tincture.

It was not till the fifteenth century that the career of modern European discovery in Africa commenced. The Portuguese, leading the van of the nations of Europe in that great movement of maritime enterprise which constitutes so signal an epoch in the history of modern society, selected the western course of Africa as the most promising track along which to prosecute discovery; their intercourse with the Moors having made them aware that gold and other precious commodities were to be procured in that direction. In the year 1433, Cape Bojador was passed by a navigator called Gilianez; and others succeeding him, passed Cape Blanco, and, exploring the entire coast of the Desert, reached at length the fertile shores of Gambia and Guinea. The sudden bending inwards of the coast line at the Gulf of Guinea gave a new direction and a new impulse to the activity of the Portuguese. Having no definite ideas of the breadth of the African continent, they imagined that, by continuing their course eastward along the Gulf, they would arrive at the renowned country of the great Prester John, a fabulous personage, who was believed to reign with golden sway over an immense and rich territory, situated no one could tell where, but which some contended could be no other than Abyssinia. The Portuguese, while prosecuting their discoveries along the African coast, did not neglect means for establishing a commercial intercourse with those parts of the coast which they had already explored. Settlements or factories for the convenience of the trade in gold, ivory, gum, different kinds of timber, and eventually also in slaves, were founded at various points of the coast between Cape Verd and Biafra. Various missionary settlements were likewise founded for the dissemination of the Roman Catholic faith among the natives.

The chimera of Prester John was succeeded by the more rational hope of effecting a passage to India by the way of Southern Africa. This great feat, accordingly, was at length achieved by Vasco de Gama, who, in 1497, four years after the discovery of America by Columbus, persisted in his course to the south so far as to double the Cape of Good Hope, and point the way northward into the Indian Ocean. By his voyages and those of his successors, the eastern coast of Africa, from the Cape of Good Hope through the Mozambique Channel to the Red Sea, was soon defined as accurately as the western coast had been by the voyages of his predecessors; and thus the entire outline and shape of the African continent were at length made known. This great service to science and to the human race was rendered, it ought to be remarked, by the Portuguese, who may be said to have conducted the enterprise of the circumnavigation of Africa from its beginning to its end; and this is perhaps the greatest contribution which the Portuguese, as a nation, have made to the general fund of human knowledge.

The outline of Africa having thus been laid down on the maps, and the extent of its surface ascertained, the attention of discoverers was next turned to its interior. The efforts made by the Portuguese to explore Nigritia in search of Prester John have been already alluded to; but it was by the other nations of Europe, especially the English, the French, and the Dutch, who, on the decline of the Portuguese power, began to compete with each other in this field of enterprise, that the greatest advances were made in the knowledge of geography of the various parts of Africa, and of the races which inhabit it. For these last two hundred years, discoverers and travelers of various nations have been adding to our information respecting this vast continent; and in consequence of their joint labors, some in one part, some in another, we are now able to form an idea, very general, it must, be admitted, but still tolerably distinct, of Africa and its inhabitants. In presenting a summary view of the progress of African discovery, from the period of the final circumnavigation of the continent, and its correct delineation in outline, down to the present time, it will be advantageous to take up its various divisions in the following order:—​Western Africa, Southern Africa, Eastern Africa, Central Africa or Nigritia, and Northern Africa, including the Great Desert.

Western Africa.—​The shores of Western Africa, especially those which border the Gulf of Guinea, have retained to the present time the distinction which they acquired at the period of their discovery by the Portuguese, of being the market which European ships visit for African commodities.

The Portuguese, as we have already mentioned, where the first to plant factories along this coast, from the southern termination of the Great Desert to Congo, and other maritime districts south of the equator. Allured by the profits of the slave trade, other European nations hastened to occupy stations on the same coast; and towards the end of the eighteenth century, the number of European forts and factories round the Gulf of Guinea were said to be forty in all; of which fifteen belonged to the Dutch, fourteen to the English, four to the Portuguese, four to the Danes, and three to the French. Deriving its principal commercial importance from the trade in negroes, which this chain of forts was intended to guard, Western Africa has, since the abolition of the slave trade, fallen considerably out of view. According to the best information, however, that has been obtained, ‘the territory is in the possession of a number of petty states, many of which compose aristocratic republics, turbulent, restless, licentious, and generally rendered more depraved by their intercourse with Europeans.’

Proceeding from north to south, let us briefly notice the various countries of the western coast, with the tribes which inhabit them. The most northerly is Senegambia, the name applied to the district watered by the two rivers Senegal and Gambia, commencing from the Desert, and extending as far as the Grain Coast. According to Mungo Park, this territory is inhabited by four tribes—​the Feloops, the Jaloffs, the Foulahs, and the Mandingoes. In all these tribes, part are Mohammedans by profession; but the great body of the people are Pagans, called by their Mohammedan brethren Kafirs, or infidels, and practicing the Fetish form of worship; that is, the worship of inanimate objects. The Feloops were described by Park as a gloomy and revengeful race, but honorable and faithful in their dealings with friends; the Jaloffs as an active and warlike people, with jet-black skins, but among the most handsome of the negroes, divided into several principalities, and excelling in the manufacture of cotton cloth; The Foulahs—​a race of more importance in Africa than Park imagined—​as of a tawny complexion, with soft silky hair and pleasing features, much attached to a pastoral life; and the Mandingoes, who are by far the most numerous people in this part of Africa, as of a mild, sociable, and obliging disposition, the men commonly above the middle-size, well-shaped, strong, and capable of enduring great labor, the women good-natured, sprightly and agreeable.

The tract of country adjoining Senegambia on the south, and stretching along the Gulf of Guinea, from the Grain Coast to the Bight of Biafra, has been named Upper Guinea, and includes, besides the colonies of Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Ivory and Gold Coasts, so noted for their unhealthiness, three native states—​namely, Ashantee, Dahomey, and Benin. Our information respecting these negro kingdoms is derived from the discoveries of various travelers, among whom may be mentioned Mr. Norris, who undertook a journey to the court of the king of Dahomey in 1772, with the hope of making arrangements beneficial to English trade; Mr. Bowditch, who took part in a mission for a similar purpose to the king of Ashantee in 1817; and Captain Adams, who visited Benin at a later period.

Ashantee is described as a hilly country, well watered by numerous streams, and covered almost entirely with that rich vegetable luxuriance, the labor of removing which, it has been observed, is as severe for the agriculturist as the opposite labor of fertilizing barren lands. The Ashantee negro clears the land by means of fire—​thus both removing the rank vegetation, and spreading the soil with a rich manure, which yields two crops a year. Besides innumerable kinds of fruit and flowers, and all the giant trees of the tropics, the productions are sugar, tobacco, maize, rice, yams, and potatoes. All kinds of tropical animals likewise swarm in Ashantee. The human inhabitants of the whole region or empire are estimated at three millions, and though possessing, in a marked degree, some of the worst negro characteristics, they are, upon the whole, more advanced than most of the African tribes, not only practicing a regular and tolerably skilled agriculture, but showing considerable ingenuity in several mechanical arts—​as dyeing, tanning, pottery, weaving, and the manufacture of instruments and ornaments out of gold, iron, etc. They are also cleanly, and well clad, and pay some attention to the building and decoration of their houses. Their government is an absolute monarchy, or nearly so; the classes of society under the monarch being cabocees or nobles, gentry, traders, and slaves. Polygamy is allowed, but no one but the king possesses many wives. The royal number of wives is said to be precisely 3333, who, however, act also in other capacities; as bodyguards, etc. The most horrible of the Ashantee customs is that of sacrificing a number of persons on the death of every man of rank, the number of victims being regarded not only as indicating the dignity of the deceased in this world, but as determining his rank in the next. The belief in a future state is one of the strongest of their religious ideas. Regarding the origin of mankind, they, as well as other negro tribes of the Guinea Coast, have the following singular tradition:—​The Great Spirit, they say, having created three white men and women, and as many black, offered the blacks the first choice of two articles which he held in his hand, one of which was a calabash, the other a sealed paper. The blacks chose the calabash, which contained gold, iron, and all the choice products of the earth; in consequence of which the negro race to this day possess these blessings in abundance: while the sealed paper falling to the share of the whites, has conferred on them a higher gift of knowledge, wherewith the contents of the calabash may be turned to account. This admission of the superiority of the whites on the part of the Ashantees appears also in their belief that the good negroes become white in the future state. No part of Africa, or even of the world, is believed to be richer in gold than Ashantee.

The kingdom of Dahomey, situated eastward from Ashantee, resembles it in the general aspect of the soil, and in many other particulars. It appears to be a recent negro state, formed by the conquest of a number of tribes by a powerful race from the interior. The government of the Dahomans, like that of the Ashantees, is an absolute monarchy; but the Dahoman king seems to be still more despotic in practice than his Ashantee neighbor. When, in obedience to some superstitious freak, he wishes to send a message to some of his deceased relatives in the other world, he delivers the message to some attendant negro, whose head is immediately cut off, as a means of forwarding him to his destination; and if the monarch has forgot any part of his communication, he immediately adds a postscript by a second messenger. The bloody custom of sacrificing a number of victims on the occasion of a great man’s funeral is practiced at Dahomey as well as Ashantee. The Dahomans have similar religious beliefs with the Ashantees: their principal object of worship, appropriately enough, is the tiger. Of late years some improvement is said to have taken place in the habits of this fierce African race.

Passing from Upper Guinea, of which Ashantee and Dahomey are the principal territories, we come next to Lower or South Guinea, which extends from the Bight of Benin to the commencement of Southern Africa, and includes the provinces or districts of Loango, Congo, Angola and Benguela. The whole of this tract of coast presents the aspect of a country degraded and deteriorated by intercourse with Europeans, to a condition worse than its original negro barbarism. Here, more than three centuries ago, the Portuguese established themselves partly as missionaries of Christianity, and partly as traders in slaves; and while their efforts in the former capacity, directed as they are by the most absurd and wretched bigotry, produced almost no beneficial effect, the curse of the slave traffic which they imported has adhered to the country with a tenacity which all the rigors of modern philanthropy cannot overcome. It is from these coasts that the exportation of negroes is said to go on at the present time more busily than it did before the abolition of the slave trade. The characteristics of the coast, and of the population which inhabit it, are determined by the brutal traffic of which it is the scene. It is impossible, within our limits, to give a description of the whole line of shore, of the small port-towns scattered along it, with their motley population of negroes, mulattoes, and slave-dealing Portuguese; or of the negro districts in the interior, where the natives fight and kidnap each other to supply the demand for slaves on the coast.

Southern Africa. Occupied with their commerce on the coasts of Western Africa, the Portuguese scarcely give a thought to the southern extremity of the continent, the aspect of which was less promising; and accordingly, for a century and a half after the famous voyage of Vasco de Gama, the district round the cape of Good Hope remained a blank waste to Europeans. The prudent and enterprising Dutch, however, having embarked in the East India trade, soon discovered the importance of the cape as a commercial station, and in the year 1650 they founded Cape Town, the capital of Cape Colony, the most flourishing of all the European settlements in Africa. Encroaching, without the least scruple, on the territories of the natives, the Dutch extended their possessions so as to include an area of upwards of 120,000 square miles, some spots of which were cultivated and planted with vines, or laid out in corn-fields, but the greater part of which was converted into immense grazing farms. Under the Dutch the natives suffered dreadfully, numbers of them being reduced to bondage, and others driven into the interior to find subsistence as they best could. In 1795 the colony was taken by the English; it was again restored to the Dutch in 1800; a second time, however, it was taken by the English, to whom it was finally ceded in the year 1815, and is now, accordingly, an English possession. Both before and after the cession of Cape Colony to the British, various travelers have undertaken journeys among the tribes inhabiting this extremity of Africa; and no accounts are more full and interesting than those of the various missionaries, who, since the beginning of the present century, have employed themselves in the arduous task of carrying the doctrines of Christianity into the heart of the native tribes. The native tribes of Southern Africa are two in number—​the Hottentots and the Caffres; the former, so far as not extirpated, inhabiting the tract of country adjacent to Cape Colony on the western coast, and the other the tract adjacent to the colony on the eastern coast.

Of the Hottentots of the colony and its vicinity, it is said that they have ‘become noted and almost proverbial for presenting man in his lowest estate, and under the closest alliance with the inferior orders of creation. It must, indeed, be admitted that they take particular pains to render their external appearance the most hideous that the human body can possibly present. Grease is poured over their persons in copious streams, which, being exposed to the perpetual action of smoke, forms on their skin a black and shining cake, through which the native color, a yellowish-brown, is scarcely perceptible. Grease in Africa forms the chief distinction of rank—​the rich besmearing themselves with fresh butter, while the poorer classes are obliged to tear the fat from the bowels of slaughtered animals. They assign as a reason for this singular practice, an effect which has been readily admitted by judicious travelers—​namely, that such a coating has, in this climate, a most salutary influence in defending them from the rays of the sun, and in averting many cutaneous disorders. Nature seems to have aided the task of disfiguring them, by covering the head with irregular tufts of hard and coarse hair, and causing singular prominences, composed of fat, to jut out in parts where they are least ornamental. Nor do their habits of life present anything to redeem this outward deformity. Their kraals or villages, consist of a confused crowd of little conical hovels, composed of twigs and earth, in which large families sit and sleep without having room to stand upright. The fire in the middle fills these mansions with thick smoke, the floors being deeply covered with every species of filth. At festivals, when an ox or a sheep is killed, the Hottentots rip open the belly, tear out the entrails, which they throw on the coals, and feast on them before the animal is completely dead. Yet they are a friendly, hospitable race, living together in the greatest affection and harmony. The sluggish and senseless stupidity with which they have been so generally taxed, seems to have been in a great measure produced by their degrading subjection to the Dutch boors.’ It has been asserted that the Hottentots are destitute of all ideas of religion; but this is not correct. It is ascertained that they believe in a Supreme Being, as well as in an inferior spirit of malignant nature; and that they practice certain superstitious rites, such as are usual among savages.

Such is the description given of the Hottentots as they were under the Dutch rule. Since the Cape came into the possession of the British, they have not been treated with the same neglect and cruelty as they experienced from the Dutch, who used to prohibit Hottentots, equally with dogs, from entering their places of worship; still, with some exceptions, arising from the beneficial effects produced in some places by the missionaries, the account seems to remain substantially true. Immediately to the north of the colony, and on the borders of the Snewburg or Snowy Mountains, are the Bosjesmans, or Bushmans, the most savage and degraded of all the South Africans. They were visited in 1797 by Mr. Barrow, private secretary to Lord Macartney, with the view of ascertaining whether friendly relations might not be entered into with them, to prevent their incursions upon the farms of the Europeans.

Mr. Barrow, at the same period, crossed the frontier which divides the colony from the country of the Caffres, and made acquaintance with this race, differing widely in almost all respects from their neighbors the Bushmans. He found them a handsome and spirited people, of frank and generous deportment, leading a roaming pastoral life, and possessing numbers of cattle, in the rearing of which they seemed proficient.

Before the commencement of the present century, little more was known respecting the original inhabitants of Southern Africa than what we have thus generally indicated. But in 1801, two gentlemen, Messrs. Trutter and Somerville, made an excursion to a considerable distance beyond the districts of the Bushmans and the Caffres, whom Mr. Barrow had visited, and discovered a large river, now called Orange River, flowing westward into the Atlantic. The banks of this river they found inhabited by a pastoral tribe called the Koranes; and the information they received from this people inducing them to continue their journey still farther to the north, they at last reached what not a little surprised them—​a city or town of two or three thousand houses, very neatly built, and well-arranged. The name of this city was Lattakoo; and the accounts which the travelers brought back of it to the Cape, and of the friendliness with which they had been received by the Boshuanas, who were then the prevalent tribe, induced the government to send Dr. Cowan and Lieutenant Denovan to continue the discovery, and, if possible, make their way past Lattakoo, so as ultimately to reach Mozambique on the east coast. The issue of this expedition was unfortunate. The travelers reached Lattakoo in safety, but were killed at a distance of eleven days’ journey beyond it. The same route was afterwards pursued by Dr. Henry Lichtenstein, who added considerably to the knowledge then possessed of this part of Africa. But the most enterprising traveler in these regions was Mr. John Campbell, a missionary, who, animated with an eager desire to spread Christianity among the rude Hottentots and Caffres, undertook a journey for that purpose in 1813. He reached Lattakoo, made known the object of his visit to Mateebe, king of the Boshuanas, and, after some importunacy, obtained leave to establish a missionary station in the capital. Having succeeded in the object of his expedition, Mr. Campbell returned, but made a second journey to Lattakoo in 1820. He found the missionary establishment in active operation, but little progress had been made in converting the natives, who manifested the most profound indifference on the subject of religion. Mr. Campbell now penetrated beyond Lattakoo, and came among tribes till then unknown, some of them showing a considerable advance in the arts of life, inhabiting neat villages, cultivating the ground, smelting iron and copper, and manufacturing various implements. He also came upon the borders of an immense desert, which, from its appearance, and the information which he was enabled to collect respecting it, he thought entitled to be named the Southern Sahara, as rivaling in extent the Great Northern Desert. Whether, as he was led to imagine, this Desert stretches from the tropic of Capricorn, where he saw its extremity, to the equator, is a point which can only be settled by farther discovery; but the supposition does not appear probable.

Subsequently to Mr. Campbell’s journey, these regions have been visited by other travelers, who have made us better acquainted with the tribes of the South Cape, by giving us details of their customs and manner of life. The latest of these is Mr. Robert Moffat, likewise a missionary. The general conclusion, from the accounts of these various travelers, seems to be, that the southern extremity of Africa is inhabited by two principal races—​the Hottentots, who, both physically and intellectually, are far inferior to the average of mankind; and the Caffres, a bold and savage, but promising race, resembling in their general features the natives of other parts of Africa, and divided into a number of tribes, who inhabit villages scattered through the country which borders on the Southern Desert.

While describing the inhabitants of Southern Africa, we have left the general features of the country itself undescribed. The following passage will supply the deficiency:—​‘Southern Africa consists,’ says a writer, ‘of a most strange assemblage of mountains and plains, of spots lovely and picturesque beyond description, and gifted with inexhaustible fertility, and of seemingly boundless plains, where barrenness reigns so completely paramount, that the very principle of vegetation appears to be extinct. At a certain distance from the colony we enter upon regions over which the clouds of ignorance—​almost the only clouds one meets with—​-still brood. We traverse large rivers, which rise no one knows where, and envelop their exits in equal obscurity. Ranges of mountains also, with appellations uncouth, and hiding no one knows what treasures of the animal and vegetable kingdoms in their unvisited recesses, sweep before us along the verge of the horizon, dim, blue, and shadowy, like so many fragments of fairyland. And if the great outlines of the landscape be original and bold, the filling up and coloring are no less so. Everything upon which the eye rests has the appearance of having been cast in a mould nowhere else made use of in the system of nature. Among the terrestrial animals, what bulk and fantastic formations! How numerous and strikingly contrasted are the groups that present themselves! In their character and habits what extremes seem to meet! How unspeakably lavish seems to be the waste of vitality! Yet who will dare to say that, in this prodigious outpouring of animal life, there is a single creature that does not enjoy and adorn the scene on which it moves? If there be anything we should be disposed to think out of place, it is the stunted representatives of humanity, who, under the name of Bushmen, roam in indescribable misery and degradation over those sublime savannahs. To a man of imagination, nothing more inspiring can be conceived than climbing one of the breezy peaks overlooking that strange wilderness, at the moment that the dawn is busily unfolding all its varied features. From every tree the heavy dewdrops pour like rain; streams of white mist, smooth and glassy as a tranquil river, float slowly down the valleys, reflecting from their surface the trees, and cliffs, and crags on either hand. Here, through openings between feathery mimosas, weeping-willows, and tall trembling reeds, we catch a glimpse of some quiet lake, the haunt of the hippopotamus; while a herd of graceful purple antelopes are seen drinking on its further margin. There, amidst thick clumps of camel-thorn, we behold a drove of giraffes, with heads eighteen feet high, browsing on the tops of trees. Elsewhere, the rhinoceros pokes his long ugly snout from a brake; while the lion, fearless in the consciousness of his own strength, parades his tawny bulk over the plain, or reclines, in sphinx-like attitude, beneath some ancient tree.’

Eastern Africa. With the exception of the countries bordering on the Red Sea—​Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia—​which cannot be included in so general a survey as the present, the eastern coast of Africa is undoubtedly the least-known portion of the whole circuit of the continent. The tract of country extending from the northern extremity of Caffreland to Cape Guardafui, and including the states or territories of Sofala, Mozambique, Zanguebar, and Ajan, was early visited by the Portuguese in their voyages to India; and in the course of the sixteenth century, various settlements were planted in it by them, similar to those which they planted along the Guinea Coast. The most conspicuous difference was, that here the ruling race were not pure negroes, but men of Arabic descent, and vehement Mohammedans. It was from these that the Portuguese wrested the immense line of coast-territory which they once held in this part of Africa, and of which they made Mozambique the capital. On the ruin of the Portuguese power in India, their settlements in Eastern Africa declined; the Arabs and blacks reconquered a great portion of their ancient territory; and it is now merely by sufferance that the once-powerful Portuguese retain a footing on the coast at all. What they do possess, however, they guard with the utmost jealousy; and they testify extreme aversion to the intrusion of any other European nation into those territories where they once lorded it so proudly. Mr. Salt, who visited Mozambique in 1808, found it to contain a population of less than three thousand, of whom only five hundred were Portuguese. ‘The rural population of this part of Africa,’ says Mr. Macculloch, ‘is in the most degraded state; and although the soil be naturally rich and productive, the culture of cotton, indigo, sugar, and other articles of commerce is wholly neglected. Rice, millet, and manioc are raised almost without labor, furnishing, with cocoa-nuts, almost the entire food of the slaves. The commerce of Mozambique has greatly decreased, in consequence of our exertions to suppress the traffic in slaves; but although much diminished, the slave trade is still carried on to a considerable extent both with Brazil and Arabia. These slaves, who are chiefly of the tribe of the Monjores, and brought from the centre of the continent, a distance of forty or forty-five days’ journey from the colony, are procured from the native merchants in exchange for salt, shells, tobacco, coarse cloths, etc. Goods costing about two dollars, will bring in, as far as the case may be, either a slave or an elephant’s tusk, weighing from sixty to eighty pounds of ivory. Hippopotamus’ tusks, gold dust, Columbo-root, gums, and amber, are the other chief exports.’

From these few particulars, which include nearly all that is known of this part of Africa, it will appear that, with the exception of the infusion of the Mohammedan and Arabic element, which is here very strong, it bears a close resemblance to the corresponding portion of the western coasts. There are at the same impediments, arising from climate, to the acquisition of much knowledge of the country by Europeans, who, at best, are unable to penetrate farther than a few miles into the interior. It appears probable, indeed, that the last portion of the coast of Africa to be thoroughly explored will be these sites of the declining Portuguese colonies.

Central Africa. Under the general name of Central Africa may be included the whole of the interior of the continent south of the Great Desert. This immense extent of country may be divided into two parts—​Southern Central Africa, lying between the tropic of Capricorn and the equator; and Northern Central Africa, called also Souden, or Nigritia, lying between the equator and the Great Desert. The former is as yet totally unknown and unexplored; and before our information respecting it can be at all authentic and accurate, two most difficult expeditions must have been made, which have not yet been so much as proposed—​one from the Cape of Good Hope northwards as far as the Mountains of the Moon, the other transversely across the continent from Congo to Zanguebar or Mozambique. At what future period the spirit of enterprise may achieve these two journeys it is impossible to tell.

Northern Central Africa, or Nigritia, has, on the other hand, been penetrated by travelers, who have advanced into it from all directions. From the earliest times this part of Africa attracted attention, as being the country through which the famous Niger flowed, on whose banks the great city of Timbuctoo, of the wealth of which vague accounts had reached the shores of the Mediterranean, was reputed to be situated. To ascertain the course of this river, and to reach this celebrated negro city, were the leading objects of all who engaged in the enterprise of African discovery. In the year 1618, an English company was formed for the purpose of opening up a communication with Timbuctoo, and not long afterwards a similar company was formed in France. For a century and a half the two nations continued to compete with each other in the enterprise: the English trying to make their way up the river Gambia, which they imagined to be the outlet of the Niger; the French, on the other hand, persevering along the Senegal, which seemed to them more likely to be identical with the Niger. Much useful information was acquired in these successive voyages respecting Western Africa; but no intelligence was obtained of the site of the great city of the negroes. It was clearly ascertained, however, that neither the Senegal nor the Gambia could be identical with the Niger, supposing the traditionary accounts of that river to be true. Three distinct opinions respecting this river began to be entertained. Some said that there was no Niger at all, such as the ancients had described it, but that some river, branching off into the Senegal and Gambia, was alluded to. Others believed that the ancient accounts of the Niger as a river flowing towards the east was-correct, and that it was to be considered one of the upper branches of the Nile. A third party maintained that the supposition of the Niger being identical with the Nile was untenable, considering the immense breadth of the continent, and that the true Niger was some stream rising in the interior of Africa, and flowing into the sea at some point of the western coast farther south than the Senegal and the Gambia. A subsequent modification of this opinion was, that the Niger did not flow into the sea at all, but terminated in some great marsh or lake in the interior of Africa, resembling the Caspian Sea.

Such was the state of information, or rather of doubt, with respect to the course of the Niger, when, in the year 1788, a number of spirited men of science, including Lord Rawdon, Sir Joseph Banks, the bishop of Landaff, Mr. Beaufoy, and Mr. Stuart, formed themselves into an association for the purpose of prosecuting this and other questions of African geography to an issue. No sooner had the society been formed, than it commenced its labors. The first travelers, however, whom it sent out were cut off by death. One of them, Major Houghton, ascended the Gambia, and never returned; it was afterwards ascertained that he had been killed by the Moors in the interior. It was at this juncture that the celebrated Mungo Park presented himself to the society. Born in the county of Selkirk, in Scotland, in the year 1771, and having been educated for the medical profession, Park had just returned from a voyage to the East Indies in the capacity of assistant-surgeon on board one of the East India Company’s vessels, when he offered his services to the association through Sir Joseph Banks. After due inquiry into Mr. Park’s character and qualifications, they were accepted. This was in 1793; but he did not depart on his expedition till the summer of 1795. His instructions were, on his arrival in Africa, ‘to pass on to the river Niger either by the way of Bambouk, or by such other route as should be found most convenient —​that he should ascertain the course, and, if possible, the rise and termination of that river—​that he should use his utmost exertions to visit the principal towns or cities in its neighborhood, particularly Timbuctoo and Houssa—​and that he should be afterwards at liberty to return to Europe either by the way of the Gambia, or by such other route as, under all the then existing circumstances of his situation and prospects, should appear to him to be most advisable.’

The ship in which Park sailed reached the African coast in the latter end of June 1795, and on the 5th of July the traveler took up his residence in the house of an English settler in the village of Pisania, situated on the northern bank of the Gambia, at a considerable distance from the coast. After remaining here about five months, preparing for his journey into the interior, and acquiring information respecting the western parts of Africa, Park launched upon his perilous enterprise on the 2d of December 1795. For three months he toiled on in a north-westerly direction, passing through various negro kingdoms, and numberless towns and villages, almost everywhere received with kindness and respect, although the cupidity of some of the negro sovereigns stripped him of most of the articles of value he had brought along with him, as a tax for allowing him to pass through their dominions. For a detailed account of all his adventures during the journey, we must refer to his own narrative, which has long and justly been regarded as one of the most interesting and best-written books in the English language. Suffice it to say, that after having pushed on till he found himself near the southern borders of the Great Desert, and when ‘fancy had already placed him on the banks of the Niger, and presented to his imagination a thousand delightful scenes in his future progress,’ a cruel accident came to delay, and, as it seemed, utterly to prevent, the fulfillment of his ‘golden dream.’ In this part of Africa he found that the Moors, or men of Arab blood, were the ruling race, domineering over the negroes in the most insolent manner; and while from the negroes, almost universally, he experienced kind treatment, the Moors he describes as the most barbarous and tyrannical of the human race. Accordingly, after entering the countries which, from their proximity to the Great Desert, were under the thraldom of the Moors, he proceeded with greater caution than he had found it necessary to adopt in passing through the countries inhabited by a pure negro population. His caution, however, was of no avail; on the 7th of March, 1796, he was carried away captive by a Moorish chief to Benown, a village on the margin of the Desert, where he was detained for nearly three months, enduring incredible hardships from the cruelty of his keepers, who persecuted him both as a stranger and as a Christian.

Escaping at length from the hands of his tormentors, Park continued his journey in a south-easterly direction, passing, as before, through several negro kingdoms, where, however, the Moors seemed to exercise a powerful influence, and where, consequently, he was obliged to undergo much suffering and insult, although, even in the depths of his distress, he always found sympathy and compassion from some poor negro. On the 21st of July, 1796, he was approaching a large town called Sego, the capital of the kingdom of Bambarra, in company with a party of negroes, who were proceeding thither, and who entertained him on the way with accounts of the traffic which went on at this town, and of the Great Water, or Joliba, which flowed past it. This stream Park had no doubt was the Niger, of which he was in search; and so it proved. ‘We rode together,’ he says, ‘through some marshy ground, where, as I was anxiously looking around for the river, one of them called out, “Geo affilli!” (“See the water!”) and looking forwards, I saw with infinite pleasure the great object of my mission—​the long-sought-for majestic Niger glittering to the morning sun, as broad as the Thames at Westminster, and flowing slowly to the eastward. I hastened to the brink, and having drunk of the water, lifted up my fervent thanks in prayer to the Great Ruler of all things for having thus far crowned my endeavors with success.’

Having thus been successful in reaching the banks of the long-sought Niger, Park would have pursued his journey along them so as to ascertain its farther course, and even trace it to its termination; but his entire destitution of everything necessary for such an enterprise, and the reports which he received of the bigotry of the Moors who ruled in the districts through which he must pass, prevented him from advancing farther than Silla, a town considerably to the east of Sego. Accordingly, having collected all the information he could respecting the course of the river beyond this point—​having done all that he could towards the settlement of the question of the course of the Niger—​having ascertained the existence of large trading cities in the interior of Africa, some of which he had visited, and the position of three others of which (namely, Jenné, Timbuctoo, and Houssa) he had learnt by accurate inquiry—​having, moreover, accumulated a vast mass of information respecting the manners, customs, and social condition of the natives of Central Africa—​Park returned to the coast along the banks of the Niger, and consequently by a route different from that which he had adopted on his journey inland. He reached Pisania on the 10th of June, 1797, having thus been absent twenty-one months in the interior of Africa. He arrived in London on Christmas Day in the same year; was received with great enthusiasm by all classes; prepared the narrative of his journey for publication; and at length, in 1800, having in the meantime married, he settled as a medical practitioner in Peebles.

Park’s success gave an impulse to the spirit of discovery, and two attempts were made shortly after his return to follow up what he had begun. ‘A German, named Hornemann, undertook to penetrate into the continent by way of Egypt, and succeeded in reaching Fezzan, whence he wrote, in April, 1800, to England; but no particulars relative to his future history are known. He was never again heard of till 1824, when Captain Clapperton, who followed the same route with a better issue, learnt that the German traveler had succeeded in penetrating from Fezzan to Nyffee, or Nouffie, on the Niger, where he fell a victim to dysentery. Hornemann’s papers had been all accidentally burnt.

‘In 1804, another enterprising spirit, Mr. Nicholls, endeavored to enter the African interior from the Calabar coast, in the Gulf of Guinea, but, at the very outset of his journey, he also perished from the pestilential fever of those latitudes.’ At length Mr. Park—​who, notwithstanding the public respect and domestic comfort which he enjoyed in the situation in which he had settled down, still hankered after a life of wandering in Africa, avowing, it is said, to Sir Walter Scott, who was one of his most intimate friends, that he preferred it to any other—​consented, on the invitation of government, to undertake a second journey. ‘All requisite preparations for the enterprise were completed before the end of January, and on the 30th of that month 1805, Park set sail from Portsmouth, in the Crescent transport, taking on board with him from the dockyards of that place four or five artificers.’ He was accompanied also by his brother-in-law, Mr. Anderson, and a friend, Mr. Scott. When, on the 21st of March 1805, the transport anchored in the Goree Roads, near the mouth of the Gambia, and ‘Mr. Park’s purposes were made known here, almost every man of the garrison volunteered his services for the expedition. The traveler selected thirty-five able-bodied men, and also accepted the offered services of one officer, Lieutenant Martyn, thinking it of consequence to have in the party some one already acquainted with the soldiers. Two experienced seamen from the Squirrel frigate were added to the party with the view of benefiting by their valuable assistance in sailing down the Niger.

‘Park communicated these arrangements by letter to the colonial department, and thus he describes his departure from Goree:—​“On the morning of the 6th of April we embarked the soldiers, in number thirty-five men. They jumped into the boat in the highest spirits, and bade adieu to Goree with repeated huzzas. I believe that every man in the garrison would have embarked with great cheerfulness; but no inducement could prevail on a single negro to accompany me.”’ Park’s intentions with respect to this second journey were stated to government before his departure from England. He said that ‘he would proceed up the Gambia, cross the country to the Niger, and travel down that river to its termination.’ Sailing up the Gambia as far as Kayee, Park and his party commenced their land journey from that point on the 27th of April, in high spirits, and amply provided with all necessaries. ‘At Kayee he was able, for the first time, to perfect his preparations for the route, by attaching a few natives to his party. Isaaco, a Mandingo priest and merchant, and one well inured to long inland journeys, engaged himself to act as a guide to the expedition, and to give it the assistance of several negroes, his own personal attendants.’ Unfortunately it was the worst season of the year for traveling, and the journey was one of continued toil and sickness. Before the 19th of August more than three-fourths of the party had died, or been left behind to die. On that day, after leaving the place called Toniba, ‘coming,’ says Park, ‘to the brow of a hill, I once more saw the Niger rolling its immense stream along the plain!’ This was a pleasant sight for Park’s companions. Several more of them, however, died before Sego, the capital of Bambarra, was reached. Here, being kindly received by Mansong, the king of the Bambaraas, Park hoped to be able to obtain a vessel in which he might navigate the Niger to its termination. He waited for several weeks at Sansanding, a town a little below Sego, using all his endeavors to obtain from Mansong a canoe sufficient for his purpose. ‘After much labor, he did get a vessel of the desired kind fitted up, and named it his Britanic majesty’s schooner the Joliba. At Sansanding, on the 28th of October, Mr. Anderson underwent the fate of so many of his companions, and regarding his death Park observes—​“No event that took place during the journey ever threw the smallest gloom over my mind till I laid Mr. Anderson in the grave. I then felt myself as if left a second time lonely and friendless amidst the wilds of Africa.”

‘At this point the authentic account of Mungo Park’s second journey ends. Isaaco’s engagement here terminated, and the papers given to him by the traveler, and carried back to the coast, constitute the only records of the expedition which came from Park’s own pen. These papers were accompanied by several letters, the most interesting of which is one (dated Sansanding, November 17) addressed to Lord Camden. In this letter Park says—​“I am sorry to say, that of forty-four Europeans who left the Gambia in perfect health, five only are at present alive; namely, three soldiers (one deranged in his mind), Lieutenant Martyn, and myself. From this account I am afraid that your lordship will be apt to consider matters as in a very hopeless state; but I assure you I am far from despairing. With the assistance of one of the soldiers, I have changed a large canoe into a tolerably good schooner, on board of which I this day hoisted the British flag, and shall set sail to the east, with a fixed resolution to discover the termination of the Niger, or perish in the attempt. I have heard nothing that I can depend on respecting the remote course of this mighty stream, but I am more and more inclined to think that it can end nowhere but in the sea. My dear friend Mr. Anderson, and likewise Mr. Scott, are both dead; but though all the Europeans who are with me should die, and though I myself were half dead, I would still persevere, and if I could not succeed in the object of my journey, I would at last die on the Niger.”’

These were the last words which Park sent to Europe; the next intelligence was a vague rumor of his death. For five years, however, no authentic information of the event was received; but from the exertions of Isaaco, Park’s former guide, who was induced in 1810 to make a journey with a view to ascertain the traveler’s fate, it appeared that his prophetic words had been accomplished, and that he had ‘died on the Niger.’ Isaaco obtained the particulars from Amadi Fatouma, who acted as guide to the party onward from Sansanding. They were as follows:—​Passing Jeuné and Timbuctoo in safety, the little schooner, with Park and his surviving companions (eight in number) on board, reached Yaour, in the kingdom of Houssa. Not willing to delay his progress by landing, Park sent Amadi Fatouma, whose engagement as guide terminated here, on shore with presents to the king. These presents being treacherously appropriated by the inferior chief to whom Amadi delivered them, the king of Houssa, thinking his dignity insulted, sent an army after the schooner. The army came upon the schooner at a part of the river called Boussa. ‘There is before Boussa a rock extending across the river, with only one opening in it, in the form of a door, for the water to pass through. The king’s men took possession of the top of this rock, until Park came up to it and attempted to pass. The natives attacked him and his friends with lances, pikes, arrows, and other missiles. Park defended himself vigorously for a long time; but at last, after throwing everything in the canoe overboard, being overpowered by numbers, and seeing no chance of getting the canoe past, he took hold of one of the white men and jumped into the river; Martyn did the same; and the whole were drowned in their attempt to escape by swimming. One black remained in the canoe, the other two being killed, and he cried for mercy. The canoe fell into the hands of the natives. Amadi Fatouma, on being freed from his irons three months afterwards, ascertained these facts from the native who had survived the catastrophe.’

From 1805 to 1822, various attempts were made to penetrate after Park into the heart of Nigritia. In 1809 Roentger, a German, proceeded from Morocco with a view to cross the Great Desert, but he seems to have been murdered by his guides. Shortly after, some information was obtained from two Americans, Adams and Riley, who were wrecked off the coast of the Great Desert, and carried into the interior by the Arabs. Adams alleged that he had been carried as far as Timbuctoo, but little credit was attached to his statement. The famous Burckhardt was to attempt a journey into the interior from Egypt, but died before carrying his resolution into effect. In 1816 the British government, possessed with the idea, which we have seen that Park himself came latterly to entertain, that the Congo was the outlet of the Niger, fitted out two expeditions, one of which, under Captain Tuckey, was to ascend the Congo in vessels; the other, under Major Peddie, was to penetrate the interior by Park’s route, and, embarking on the Niger, to sail down it so as to meet Captain Tuckey, which would of course happen if the Niger and Congo were identical. Both parties were brought to a halt—​the expedition up the Congo by cataracts, which prevented further navigation, and the land expedition by the hostility of the natives; and the only result of consequence was to explode the hypothesis that the Niger and the Congo were the same.

About the year 1819 attention was drawn to the possibility of penetrating into Central Africa by a route not yet tried—​namely, from Tripoli through the Great Desert; and as the bashaw of Tripoli, whose influence extended far into the interior, was understood to be willing to cultivate the good will of the British, it was resolved to make the attempt under his auspices. Accordingly, in 1819, Mr. Ritchie and Lieutenant Lyon began the journey from Tripoli across the Desert. They reached Mourzouk in Fezzan; but Mr. Ritchie dying there of bilious fever, the expedition was abandoned. In April 1822, however, three new adventurers, Major Denham, Captain Clapperton, and Dr. Oudney, with several companions, followed the same route. ‘A caravan, belonging to a great native merchant named Boo Khaloom, was on the point of starting for Soudan on the Niger, and with this the band of travelers were to cross the Desert in company.

‘Boo Khaloom, a Moor or Arab of remarkable abilities, and of a liberal and humane disposition, had a retinue on the journey of above two hundred Arabs, and with this company performed their dreary marches, under a burning sun, across the sands of the interior. The most extraordinary sight on this route was the number of skeletons strewed on the ground, the wrecks of former caravans. Sometimes sixty or seventy lay in one spot, and of these some lay entwined in one another’s arms, as they had perished! For fourteen days, hills of sand, and plains of sand, constituted the only objects in sight of travelers. At the end of that time they again beheld symptoms of herbage, being now on the northern borders of the kingdom of Bornou. Shortly afterwards, on reaching a town called Lari, the British travelers beheld a sight which made up for all they had undergone. This was the great inland sea of Africa, Lake Tchad, the existence of which had been so often canvassed, and which now lay before them “glowing with the golden rays of the sun.”

‘Lake Tchad, one of the most interesting points of Central African scenery, is a vast triangular sheet of water, about one hundred and eighty miles long from east to west, and above one hundred miles in extent at its greatest breadth. It lies between 14 and 17 degrees of north latitude, and 12 and 15 degrees of east longitude. Two large streams flow into it—​the one called the Yeou, from the west, and the other the Shary or Tshary, from the south. Lake Tchad is situated about five hundred miles to the east of the Niger, and the country lying between them bears the general name of the Soudan, though particular appellations are given to provinces, such as Houssa, and others. Bornou is the district lying immediately to the west of the lake. Major Denham spent a considerable time here. He found the kingdom of Bornou in a very peculiar position as to government. The people are negroes, and had once been subjugated by the Foulahs or Fellatahs—​a bold race, of uncertain descent, and the conquerors and oppressors of many kingdoms in the interior. But a Bornouese negro, of humble birth and powerful talents, had aroused his countrymen and driven out the Fellatahs. This individual was found by Major Denham to be in possession of the whole power of Bornou, though, out of respect to the prejudices of his people, the old Fellatah prince was still permitted to hold a nominal throne, and the empty title of sultan. The real ruler contented himself with the title of sheikh. He is described by Denham as being extremely intelligent, and as holding the reins of power with great firmness and sagacity. The Bornouese are disciples of Mohammed, and may be called well civilized in comparison with other inland nations. Their country supplies them abundantly with food, and they carry on manufactures to a considerable extent in cotton.

‘Major Denham found an opportunity of traveling round nearly the whole of Lake Tchad, and thus satisfied himself that the waters of the Niger did not enter this inland pool. After eighteen months’ stay in Bornou, Denham was joined by Captain Clapperton who had separated from him in order to explore the country of Soudan—​an excursion on which Dr. Oudeney unfortunately perished from fatigue, and the diseases incidental to the climate. Clapperton was well received at Soccatoo, the Capital of Houssa, and the seat of Bello, the great Soudanite monarch, and the head of the Fellatah nation. Like the sheikh of Bornou, Sultan Bello was found to be an able and intelligent man.

‘Soccatoo, the capital of Houssa, situated on a tributary of the Niger, and distant four days’ journey from that river, is one of the largest cities of the interior, containing, to appearance, above forty thousand inhabitants. The city is laid out in regular streets, and is surrounded, like most African towns, with clay walls. The houses are well-built cottages, generally of clay; and the mosques, as well as parts of the sultan’s palace, are ornamented with painted wooden pillars, in a very pretty style of architecture.

‘Upon the whole, the two countries of Houssa and Bornou must be regarded as far above any kingdoms of the African interior yet visited by Europeans in point of power and civilization. The Fellatah sultan, Bello, was extremely anxious that an English consul should be sent to Soccatoo, and that a trade should be opened up with the English. Before the travelers left either Houssa or Bornou, however, they found the rulers of these places to cool in their desire for British intercourse. This arose, without doubt, from the intrigues of the Arabs, who were afraid that the traffic through the Desert from the Mediterranean might be superseded by the commerce of the British from the Atlantic or western coast. The Arabs, therefore, artfully placed before the minds of the African princes the consequences which had resulted to India and other countries from a connexion with Britain.’

Having spent in all about three years in the interior of Africa, Denham and Clapperton returned to Tripoli, which they reached on the 26th of January 1825. ‘The safe return of two principal members of this expedition, and the interesting nature of the observations made by them, was cheering and encouraging to the British authorities and to all who took an interest in African Discovery. But the question of the Niger’s outlet, through which alone it was obvious commercial intercourse could be securely and effectually established with the interior, remained yet in doubt, though the late travelers were fully convinced that the river flowed into the Atlantic somewhere in the Gulf of Guinea. Ere he had rested many months at home, Clapperton, one of the bravest of the many brave men who had risked their lives on the same dangerous adventure, was again on his way to Africa at the head of an exploratory party. His companions were Dr. Morrison and Captain Pearce, besides a faithful servant of Clapperton, Richard Lander. It was resolved on this occasion to enter the interior from Badagry, a district on the northern coast of the Gulf of Guinea, from which Clapperton believed the Niger might be soonest reached.’

In the course of their arduous journey all of the party died except Clapperton and his servant Lander. They persevered, nevertheless, passing through many populous negro towns situated between the coast and the Niger. The whole of this tract of country they found very thickly peopled; and the natives appeared, at a distance from the coast, to be of superior disposition and character. In April 1826 they reached Boussa on the Niger, the place where Park had been killed; they saw the spot where the traveler had met his death, and heard that some relics of him were still preserved, but could not obtain a right of them. After staying some time at Boussa, Clapperton crossed the Niger, and paid another visit to the territories of his former acquaintance, Sultan Bello, who, however, seemed less friendly to him than on the previous occasion, apparently suspecting the motives which actuated the British in their efforts to procure information respecting a part of the world so remote from their own. Wearied out by his toils, Clapperton became ill at Soccatoo, and died there on the 13th of April 1827, in the arms of Richard Lander, who, with great difficulty, made his way alone back to the coast, which he reached in November. He immediately set out for England, carrying Captain Clapperton’s papers with him, and a journal of his own proceedings subsequent to Clapperton’s death.

‘Meanwhile the British government were making another attempt from the Mediterranean. About the time that Clapperton set out on his second journey, Major Laing, an able officer, who had already traveled on the African coasts, entered the Desert by way of Tripoli, under the protection of a personage who had resided twenty-two years at Timbuctoo. When in the middle of the Desert, the party was attacked by a band of wild Tuaricks, and Major Laing was left for dead, with twenty-four dreadful wounds on his person. He recovered, however, by the care of his surviving companions, although numerous portions of bone had to be extracted from his head and temples! When able to do so, he pursued his journey, and on the 18th of August reached the famous city of Timbuctoo. Several letters were received from him, dated at this place, which he described as having disappointed him in point of extent, being only about four miles in circuit, but that he had found its records copious and interesting. Major Laing never had the opportunity, unhappily, of making these valuable discoveries known, being murdered, three days after leaving Timbuctoo, by a wretch who had undertaken to guide him to the mouth of the Senegal, or its neighborhood. What became of the ill-fated traveler’s papers is not known.

‘The next light thrown upon African geography came from a source somewhat different from those described. René Cailliè, a Frenchman of humble origin, assuming the character of a Mohammedan on a pilgrimage to Mecca, joined, on the 19th of April 1827, a small native caravan, traveling from the river Nunez to the interior. He soon after reached the Joliba (the name which the Niger bears as far down as Timbuctoo), but was detained by illness for five months at a place called Timé. On his recovery, he passed onwards to Jenné on the Niger, a city described by him as containing eight thousand or ten thousand inhabitants, and as being a place of considerable traffic. At Jenné, he embarked in a loose native vessel of sixty tons burden, and sailed with a party of merchants through Lake Dibbie, and down the Niger, until, in April 1828, the vessel stopped at Cabra, the port of Timbuctoo. The inhabitants of Cabra were about twelve hundred in number, and were solely occupied as porters, either in unloading goods, or in conveying them on the backs of asses to Timbuctoo. That city itself lies about ten miles from the Niger, and is a place of some ten thousand or twelve thousand inhabitants. It is chiefly built of bricks, and is supported entirely by commerce. The population are partly negroes and partly Moors; but the king is a negro, and the government is solely in the hands of that class. On the other hand, though all the people engage more or less in trade, the Moors are the principal merchants. The great article of traffic is salt, which is brought from the mines in the neighboring Desert of Sahara, and is disseminated from Timbuctoo over the whole of Central Africa.

‘After leaving Timbuctoo, Cailliè made his way across the Desert to Tangier, where he arrived in August 1828, and whence he was forwarded by the French consul to Europe. Upon the whole, however, M. Caillé has contributed little to the removal of those glaring blanks which have so long defaced the map of Africa.

‘Not so the next adventurer to whom we have to allude. This was Richard Lander, the faithful follower of Clapperton. Lander made an offer of his services to government for the investigation of the course and termination of the Niger. The offer was accepted; and Lander embarked at Portsmouth on the 9th of January 1830, accompanied by his younger brother John, who shared in all the toils and honors of the expedition. The Landers arrived on the 19th of March at Badagry, and at the end of the month started on the same route pursued by Clapperton in his journey to the Niger. Paskoe, the old guide, was again taken into service by the Landers. After an interesting journey through the populous cities of Yarriba, the travelers arrived at Boussa on the Niger on the 17th of June. The king of Boussa welcomed them with great cordiality. Though gentle and hospitable, this prince was a mere ignorant savage in comparison of the kings of Houssa and Bornou. At Boussa, notwithstanding that aversion always evinced by the natives to speak about Park, the Landers found an old nautical publication belonging to that traveler, with a loose paper or two between the sheets—​one of them an invitation card to dinner. The man who possessed this book regarded it as his household god—​every written paper being of magical import in the eyes of the natives. The tobe, or surtout-dress, of rich crimson damask, which Park had worn, was also recovered at Boussa by the Landers; but no distinct account was got of the mode in which these articles came into the hands of their owners.’

After making all inquiries, so as to rescue any relics of Park, and even ascending to Yaourie, a city and province a few days’ journey farther up the Niger for that purpose, obtaining for their trouble a double-barreled gun which had belonged to the traveler, the Landers endeavored to procure a canoe, that they might sail down the river, and solve the great problem of its course and termination. They were assisted in the kindest manner by the king of Boussa, who sent messengers down the Niger to a town called Rabba, in order to pave the way for the secure passage of the travelers. On the 20th of September, the travelers embarked in a canoe provided for them on the Niger.

‘On the 7th of October they arrived opposite Rabba, having passed a number of islands and towns on the river, which was always a magnificent stream, but varying considerably in width. Rabba is a large market town, governed by a relative of Sultan Bello. The ruler of Rabba being dissatisfied with the presents made to him, the travelers were reluctantly forced to give him Park’s tobe, and they subsequently had the misfortune to lose his gun. Near Rabba, the river took a wide sweep to the eastward, but it again turned to the south. Egga, another famous market town on the river, and Kacunda, were afterwards passed, and the mouths of two large tributaries, the Coodoovia and the Tchadda, were also seen. Various other towns were passed in succession, the largest of which were Bocqua and Attah. The Landers had now arrived at a region where signs of European intercourse were seen, and where the natives had been tainted by the demoralising consequences of the slave commerce. At a place called Kirree the travelers suffered a heavy misfortune. They were attacked by a number of canoes, seized, and their property taken from them. Richard’s journal, amongst other articles, was lost in the river, though the notes of his brother were happily preserved. The travelers expected nothing but death at this time themselves; but their lives were saved, that they might be carried down the river to Eboe Town where the king of the Eboe poople resided, and by whose subjects the attack had been made.

On their way to Eboe Town, they passed a large lake on the river, which afterwards divided itself into three broad streams, flowing at different inclinations to the south-west. From this, and previous branchings of the stream, the Landers felt convinced that they were close by the termination of the Niger in the Gulf of Guinea; and their anxiety to continue their route was proportionable to their pleasure at the near accomplishment of their task. Obie, the Eboe king, resolved to detain them, however, till a ransom was got up from the English; but King Boy, a monarch residing farther down the river, and who was then in Eboe Town, became bound for the ransom of the Landers, and carried them down (what proved to be the stream commonly called the Nun River) to Brass Town, his father’s capital. King Boy subsequently went down to the mouth of the river with Richard Lander, leaving John at Brass Town. An English merchantman was lying in the Nun, and, with hope in his heart, Richard Lander went on board of her with Boy, and explained his situation to the commander, Captain Lake, expecting to find a country’s sympathy and aid. The wretch refused to expend a penny on their ransom, though, if he had possessed a spark of intelligence, he might have been assured that the British government would gladly have paid, ten times over, any outlay made in such circumstances. Richard Lander with difficulty prevailed on Boy to go and bring his brother John to the brig, by which time the traveler hoped Lake would relent. The brutal captain, however, did not relent; and when John Lander came to the brig, he and his brother, much against their will, were forced to leave the river without satisfying Boy, who had generously taken the risk of recovering their ransom. It is a consolation to think that the British government ultimately remunerated Boy beyond his expectations. In Captain Lake’s vessel, meantime, the Landers, after much danger, crossed the bar of the river Nun, and entered the open sea in the Bight of Benin, Gulf of Guinea, with the deep satisfaction on their minds of having thus attained the glory of discovering the termination of the Niger! On the 1st of December they were put ashore at Fernando Po, where they experienced the warmest reception from the British residents. Shortly after, they found a passage homewards, and reached Britain on the 9th of June 1831, after an absence of a year and a half.

‘The solution of the great African mystery by the Landers was justly felt by their countrymen as a national triumph. But the matter, when explained, looked so simple, as in the case of Columbus with the egg, that men wondered how they could have been so long in the dark with respect to it. The splitting of the Niger into numerous branches near its close, some of them a hundred miles distant from others, was the real cause of all the difficulty. Like the Nile, the Niger has a large delta (so called from the shape of the Greek letter Δ delta), and each of its branches bore the look of independent streams. The delta of the Niger is partly inhabited, but is extremely marshy.’

Since the completion of Park’s great discovery by the Landers, two expeditions have been fitted out for the navigation of the Niger from its mouth into the interior. At first there was a general belief that now a communication had been opened up with Central Africa, and that, by means of the Niger, an easy and speedy intercourse could be held with the negro tribes living south of the Great Desert. Accordingly, two steamers, one of them entirely iron, were fitted out in 1832, at the expense of some individuals in Liverpool anxious to commence the new trade. They arrived at the Delta of the Niger in the month of October, accompanied by a sailing-vessel laden with articles for traffic. Many of the crew were carried off by the pestilential influence of the climate; and the steamers did not ascend very far. The Tchadda, a tributary of the Niger, was explored for about a hundred miles by one of them; but its banks were not found to present much opportunity for commerce, and the steamer returned to the Niger. Richard Lander, who had given his services to the expedition, was mortally wounded in a scuffle with the natives, while ascending the river in a boat with a supply of kowries which he had returned to the sea-coast to procure. He died thirteen days after, on the 2d of February 1834; and in July, the vessels left the Niger on their voyage home, the crew of the one having been reduced from twenty-nine to five and that of the other from nineteen to four. In a commercial point of view, likewise, the expedition was a failure, the only article of value procured from the natives being ivory, and that in too small a quantity to pay the expenses of the enterprise.

A second expedition, consisting of three iron steamers commissioned by government, set sail for the Niger in May 1841. The object of this expedition was to open up such an intercourse with the native princes on the banks of the Niger as might serve to assist in suppressing the African slave trade, and to plant the seeds of civilization in the centre of the continent. Besides being amply manned and furnished, the vessels carried with them all that was necessary for establishing a little colony or model farm on the hanks of the Niger, such a scheme seeming best fitted for inoculating the African population with the habits which it was desired to naturalize among them. The entire number of individuals connected with the expedition was 301, of whom 145 were Europeans, and 156 persons of color. The vessels commenced the ascent of the Niger on the 20th of August; passed Aboh, the capital of the Eboe country, where the commissioners negotiated with Obie, the king or chief of the district, regarding the suppression of the slave trade. Ninety-five miles farther up they came to Iddah, the capital of the king of Eggarah, with whom a treaty was also concluded. On the 10th of September the confluence of the Niger and the Tchadda was reached; and here it was determined to establish the model farm. Accordingly, the part of the crews and cargoes intended for the purpose was disembarked.

Meanwhile sickness had become so prevalent, and the number of deaths so great, that two of the steamers were obliged to descend the river with the invalids, in order to give them the chance of recovery on the coast. The remaining steamer, the Albert, advanced as far as Egga, about 350 miles from the sea. Farther than this, however, the increasing illness of the crew prevented it from proceeding; and accordingly, having explained to the chief of the place the object of their visit, the commander turned back on the 5th of October, and descended the river, there being hardly hands sufficient left to manage the vessel. The Albert reached the sea on the 16th of October, the other two steamers having reached it on the end of the previous month. The expedition had been most disastrous. Of the 145 white men, only fifteen escaped the river fever; while of the 156 blacks, only eleven were attacked. The list of deaths showed a total of fifty-three. The news of these unfortunate results having reached England, orders were sent out in the summer of 1842 to abandon the enterprise, and remove the laborers from the model farm; which was accordingly done.

By way of summing up the information which we have yet been able, by all our researches and expeditions, to obtain respecting Soudan or Nigritia, we may state an opinion which seems to be gaining ground. It is maintained by some that there is evidence that great changes have occurred in Central Africa within the last few centuries; that, in fact, a general movement towards civilization is discernible in the heart of this vast and forbidding continent—​a movement not originated by European contact, but born among the Africans themselves. There is evidence, it is said, that a few centuries ago the inhabitants of Nigritia were very far inferior in promise and culture to what they are at present; that the commercial spirit and manufacturing ingenuity which travelers report to exist among the negro tribes are of recent growth. The great agents in this change in the condition of Central Africa are said to be the Foulahs—​a people of doubtful origin, but possibly Asiatic. These Foulahs are represented as having acted as conquerors of the original negro tribes—​triumphing by virtue of their superior temperament and organization, and incorporating the petty states of the old negro chiefs into large kingdoms; helping also to civilize the natives by introducing among them the ideas of Mohammedanism, which, however inferior and pernicious in themselves, were yet an advance upon the original negro beliefs.

‘Throughout the whole extent of Nigritia or Negroland,’ says a writer who advocates the opinion we have just stated, ‘the Foulahs undoubtedly occupy preëminence. They are found spread over a geographic region of 28 to 30 degrees of longitude (1500 miles), and 7 to 10 degrees in latitude, or 500 miles. They extend from the Atlantic Ocean, from the mouth of the Senegal and Senegambia on the west, to the kingdoms of Bornou and Mandara on the east; from the Desert of Sahara on the north, to the mountains of Guinea or Kong on the south. This wide superficies contains more than 700,000 square miles, which is equal to the fourth part of Europe, and a tenth part of the immense continent of Africa.’

In some parts of this vast extent of territory the Foulahs are politically supreme, in others they are feudal dependents of the original chiefs; but everywhere they seem to be the growing power. ‘The Foulahs,’ says Mr. Hodgson, ‘are not negroes. They differ essentially from the negro race in all the characteristics which are marked by physical anthropology. They may be said to occupy the intermediate space betwixt the Arab and the negro. All travelers concur in representing them as a distinct race in moral as in physical traits. To their color, the various terms of bronze, copper, reddish, and sometimes white, has been applied. They concur also in the report that the Foulahs of every region represent themselves to be white men, and proudly assert their superiority to the black tribes among whom they live.… The Foulahs are rigid Mohammedans, and, according to Mollien the French traveler’s report, they are animated by a strong zeal for proselytism. They are the missionaries of Islam among the Pagan negro tribes. Where they have conquered, they have forced the adoption of the Koran by the sword; and whilst pursuing quietly their pastoral occupation, they become schoolmasters (maalims), and thus propagate the doctrines and precepts of Islam. Wherever the Foulah has wandered, the Pagan idolatry of the negro has been overthrown; the barbarous Fetish and greegree have been abandoned; anthropophagy and cannibalism have been suppressed.… Thus the Foulahs are now exercising a powerful influence upon the moral and social condition of Central Africa. I do not doubt that they are destined to be the great instrument in the future civilization of Africa, and the consequent suppression of the external Atlantic slave trade.… They will, probably, erect one vast empire in the Soudan, and the influence which that power may exert in the great question of African civilization, gives them no ordinary importance.’ If this opinion be true, what might not be the result if the Foulahs, at present barbarians and Mohammedans, themselves were overpowered by the higher and purer ideas which have raised Europe to its present supremacy over the earth? Meanwhile, it is consoling to think that, even in Central Africa, the human race has been moving onward.

Northern Africa and the Great Desert.—​Respecting that vast section of the African continent which extends from the Mediterranean to Nigritia, it appears that we are only beginning to obtain a correct description. Various officers of the French army at present engaged in the arduous enterprise of establishing the colony of Algeria, have occupied themselves in collecting information regarding the numerous tribes overspreading Northern Africa; and it would seem, from their accounts, that the ideas we have been accustomed to entertain concerning these regions are far from correct.

According to the recent accounts, Northern Africa, between the Mediterranean and Nigritia, consists of two portions—​the Tell, or that strip of land varying from 50 to 120 miles in breadth, which lies along the sea; and the Sahara, or, as it has commonly been called, the Great Desert. The following remarks respecting the Tell are from the work of Mr. Hodgson previously quoted:—​‘On the Mediterranean coast of Africa, there are in progress at this moment great political and commercial revolutions. There exists in that region a sanguinary and unceasing conflict of Christianity with Mohammedanism, of civilization with semi-barbarism. France having conquered the extensive territory of Algeria, is now pushing forward her victorious legions into the more important and more populous empire of Morocco. The result of a conflict between undisciplined hordes and the science of European warfare cannot be doubtful. But there are elements in this contest which perhaps have not been well understood. It is not with the Arab populations of those countries with which France has chiefly to contend. That, indeed, is the more intellectual but smaller portion of the people of Algeria and Morocco. The more ferocious and larger portion of that population consists of the aboriginal Berbers, the ancient Numidians, and Mauritanians. The Romans term this race genus insuperabile bello—​“unconquerable in war.” It remains to be determined if they have lost that proud appellation.’

‘To form a correct conception of the Sahara,’ says a writer in the Edinburgh Review (No. 169), condensing the information contained in some of the recent French publications on the subject, ‘our readers must dismiss from their minds all loose and fantastic conceptions which have been attached, from time immemorial, to the interior of Northern Africa. Instead of a torrid region, where boundless steppes of burning sand are abandoned to the roving horsemen of the Desert, and to beasts of prey, and where the last vestiges of Moorish civilization expire long before the traveler arrives at Negroland and the savage communities of the interior, the Sahara is now ascertained to consist of a vast archipelago of oases; each of them peopled by a tribe of the Moorish race or its offsets, more civilized, and more capable of receiving the lessons of civilization, than the houseless Arabs of the Tell (the mountainous tract lying between the Great Desert and the sea); cultivating the date-tree with application and ingenuity, inhabiting walled towns, living under a regular government, for the most part of a popular origin; carrying to some perfection certain branches of native manufactures, and keeping up an extensive system of commercial intercourse with the northern and central parts of the African continent, and from Mogador to Mecca, by the enterprise and activity of their caravans. Each of the oases of the Sahara, which are divided from one another by sandy tracts, bearing shrubs and plants fit only for the nourishment of cattle, presents an animated group of towns and villages. Every village is encircled by a profusion of fruit-bearing trees. The palm is the monarch of their orchards, as much by the grace of its form, as by the value of its productions; and the pomegranate, the fig-tree, and the apricot cluster around its lofty stem. The lions and other beasts of prey with which poetry has peopled the African wilds, are to be met with only in the mountains of the Tell, never in the plains of the Sahara. The robber tribes of the Tuaricks frequent the southern frontier of the Sahara, and the last tracts of habitable land which intervene between these oases and the real Desert; but in the Sahara itself, communications, carried on after the fashion of the country, are regular and secure. War is, indeed, of frequent occurrence between the neighboring tribes, either for the possession of disputed territories, or the revenge of supposed injuries; but all that is yet known of these singular communities shows them to be living in a completely constituted state of society, eminently adapted to the peculiar part of the globe which they inhabit, governed by the strong traditions of a primitive people, and fulfilling with energy and intelligence the strange vocations of their life.’

‘Almost all the Sahara tribes,’ says M. Carette, a French captain of engineers, who has contributed much to clear up our notions of this portion of Africa, ‘are accustomed to a system of annual peregrination, which must have existed from time immemorial, inasmuch as it is based upon the nature of the climate and the produce, and the primary wants of their existence. This general movement is commonly performed in the following manner:—​During the winter and spring the tribes are collected in the waste tracts of the Sahara, which, at this season of the year, supply water and fresh vegetation, but they never remain more than three or four days on any one spot; and when the pasture is exhausted, they strike their tents, and go to establish themselves elsewhere. Towards the end of the spring they pass through the towns of the Sahara, where their merchandise is deposited. They load their camels with dates and woollen stuffs, and then turn their steps towards the north, taking with them their whole wandering city—​women, dogs, herds, and tents—​for it is at this season that the springs begin to dry and the plants to wither on the Sahara, at the same time that the corn is ripe in the Tell. There they arrive at the moment of the harvest, when corn is abundant and cheap, and thus they take a double advantage of the season, by abandoning the waste as it becomes arid, and seeking their fresh stock of provisions in the north, when the markets are overstocked with grain. The summer they pass in this country, in commercial activity, exchanging their dates and woollen manufactured goods for corn, raw wool, sheep, and butter; whilst their herds are allowed to browse freely upon the lands, which lie fallow after the gathering in of the harvest. The signal for the return homewards is given at the end of the summer; the camels are reloaded, the tents again struck, and the wandering city once more marches forth, as it came, in short day’s journeys towards the south. The Sahara is regained about the middle of October, the period when the dates are ripe. A month is passed in gathering and storing this fruit; another is devoted to the exchange of the wheat, and barley, and raw wool, for the year’s dates and the woollen stuffs—​the produce of the yearly labor of the women. When all this business is concluded, and the merchandise stored away, the tribes quit the towns, and lead their flocks and herds from pasture-land to pasture-land among the waste tracts of the Sahara, until the following summer calls for a renewal of the same journey, the same system of trade.

‘The Sahara,’ continues M. Carette, ‘is that part of Algeria which is most civilized and most capable of receiving civilization. It is there that habits of precision are most generally diffused, and there that we find the greatest amount of intelligence, activity, and social disposition.’ The only portion of the Sahara which answers to our ideas of an uninterrupted waste of sand, seems to be the most southern belt of it, which adjoins Nigritia, and which is infested by a roving race called the Tuaricks, who conduct a commercial intercourse, especially in slaves, between the negro countries and the oases of the more northern parts of the Sahara. ‘These Tuaricks,’ says M. Carette, ‘pretend to be of Turkish descent, and affect to treat the Arabs with disdain. They are tall, strong, of slender make and of fair complexion, with the exception of a few of mixed blood. They wear a head-dress, one of the ends of which covers the whole face except the eyes; and almost all, whether rich or poor, have their feet bare, because, according to their own account, they never go on foot.’ The southern Tuaricks keep the towns of the Soudan in a constant state of blockade, hunting down the negroes in their neighborhood, and carrying them off for sale.

Conclusion. From the general survey which we have taken of Africa, and of the progress of African discovery, it appears that, while there is scarcely a point in its vast circuit where Europeans have not attempted to settle, scarcely any of the settlements have flourished. For the purpose of trade, such establishments will no doubt be maintained at a vast sacrifice of life—​the consequence of the pestilential effects of the climate on European constitutions; but it is not likely that any settlements of a permanent description will be effected except at the southern and northern extremities of the continent. Cape Colony, as yet, is the most prosperous, indeed the only settlement, worthy of the name, in Africa: whether the French will be able to make anything of Algeria, remains yet to be seen. As for the centre of the continent, it seems quite hopeless to suppose that Europeans can ever operate there directly. The utmost that can be anticipated is, that they shall be able to act upon the continent through native agents. By establishing a commerce with Central Africa, they may stimulate whatever tendencies to civilization exist among the negro races; they may create an activity through the continent resembling that caused by the slave traffic, but everyway nobler and more beneficial. Whatever seeds of improvement there are among the natives, whether negroes, Foulahs, or Arabs, may be developed by this means, and made to fructify. In this respect, nothing could be more gratifying than to know that the opinion explained in a former part of this article with regard to Central Africa is well-founded, and that an actual movement is in progress among the natives towards a more advanced stage of humanity.

Samuel Hearne was born in London, in 1745, and, at the age of eleven, embarked on board a vessel under the command of Captain (afterwards Lord) Hood; with whom he was engaged in many successful victories against the French, and acquired the right to a considerable share of prize-money, which he requested might be transmitted to his mother, who ‘would know better than himself how to dispose of it.’ At the termination of the war, seeing little chance of his advancement in the king’s navy, he quitted it, and entered the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, who soon found him to be a most intelligent and enterprising auxiliary. In 1768 he made a voyage to the head of the bay, for the purpose of improving the cod fishery in that part; and, at the same time, made a very useful survey of the adjoining coasts. In the following year, he was appointed to head an expedition, the principal objects of which were to ascertain the situation of the Copper Mine River, and the possibility of a north-west passage. Accordingly, on the 6th of November, 1769, he set out, accompanied by four attendants; when after having crossed the Seal River, and walked some time over the barren grounds beyond it, the depth of the snow and scarcity of his provisions compelled him to return, having proceeded no farther than the sixty-fourth degree of latitude.

Undiscouraged by this failure, he immediately made arrangements for a second expedition; and, in February, 1770, resumed the route he had before taken, advancing slowly northward and westward in the pursuit of his object; determined, rather than leave it unattained, to perish by the famine to which he was constantly exposed. ‘Often,’ he says, ‘I fasted whole days and nights, twice upwards of three days, and once near seven days; during which I tasted not a mouthful of any thing, except a few cranberries, water, scraps of old leather, and burnt bones.’ In July, while between the sixty-third and sixty-fourth degrees of latitude, he took up his winter quarters among a tribe of Indians, with whom he remained till about the 11th of August, when a gust of wind blowing down and destroying his quadrant, he was compelled to return to Prince of Wales’ Fort, where he arrived on the 25th of November, with the loss of his gun and several of his most useful effects, which had been stolen from him by some of his attendants.

On the 7th of the following month, accompanied by an Indian chief, who pointed out a new route likely to lead to the discovery of the copper mine, he set out a third time, in the hope of ascertaining its situation. After determining the latitude of a place called Congecathawhachaga, he began, on the 15th of July, 1771 his survey of the Copper Mine River; in the course of which, he was more than once shocked at beholding the massacre of several parties of Esquimaux, by the Indians who accompanied him. After a journey on foot of nearly one thousand three hundred miles, he reached the mouth of the river, which, from the quantity of whalebone and seal-skins seen by him in the tents of the Esquimaux, he assumed must empty itself into the ocean; and that, consequently, he ‘had reached the northern shore of North America, and stood on the borders of the Hyperborean Sea.’ Mr. Barrow however, in his Chronological History of Voyages into the Arctic Regions, denies the conclusions of Hearne upon this point, and observes, ‘equally unsatisfactory is his statement as to the latitude of the Copper Mine River;’ which, instead of 71 deg. 54 min., he cites the authorities of Dalrymple and other geographers to prove, could only be about sixty-nine degrees.

On leaving the Copper Mine River, Hearne proceeded, in a state of great agony from the soreness of his feet, as far as Lake Athapusco, or the Slave Lake; from which, in February, 1772, he departed eastward, and, on the 30th of June, arrived at Prince of Wales’ Fort, after an absence of eighteen months, and having endured, in the latter part of his journey, the horrors of a famine, which destroyed several of his attendants, and nearly proved fatal to himself. On his return, he received the thanks of the Company and a handsome gratuity; and, in 1774, he established in the interior of the country, Cumberland Factory. In 1775, he became governor of the Prince of Wales’ Fort; seven years after which, it was attacked and taken by a French squadron, under the command of La Perouse, who seized all the papers he found, but restored the manuscript of Hearne, on condition of its being printed on his arrival in England. After rebuilding, and putting in a good state of defense, the fort, he continued to reside there till 1787; in which year he returned to England, and prepared his journal for the press, which appeared about three years after his death, which took place some time in 1792. The work, containing a preface, in which he refutes the charges of Dalrymple as to the correctness of his latitudes, has been translated into most of the European languages; and besides throwing a light upon one of the most important points in geography, shows its author to have been a man of extraordinary courage and perseverance, of profound observation, and of a benevolent and enlightened mind. He had also intended to publish copies of a vocabulary of the language of the northern Indians, which he had completed in sixteen folio pages; but the original was, unfortunately, lost by a friend to whom he had lent it.

John Lewis Burckhardt, descended from an eminent family in Switzerland, was born at Lausanne, about the year 1785. He received the rudiments of his education at a school at Neufchatel, and completed his studies at the universities of Leipsic and Gottingen. At the latter, he recommended himself, by his talents and general good conduct, to the favorable notice of the celebrated Blumenbach, who gave him a letter of introduction to Sir Joseph Banks, upon whom Burckhardt called, on his arrival in London, in July, 1806. His acquaintance with Sir Joseph brought him in connexion with the other members of the African Association, and ended in his undertaking, under the patronage of the Society, to explore the interior of Africa. His offer was accepted in May, 1808, when he immediately set about preparing himself for his journey, by studying in London and at Cambridge, not only the Arabic language and oriental customs, but also astronomy, chemistry, mineralogy, medicine and surgery. In addition to this, he suffered his beard to grow, accustomed himself to wear the eastern dress, and in the intervals of his studies, exercised himself by long journies on foot, bare-headed, in the heat of the day, sleeping upon the ground, and living upon vegetables and water.

On the 25th of January, 1809, he received his final instructions, and on the 2d of March, he embarked at Cowes, for Malta, where he appeared in an oriental costume, and, by his judicious conduct, contrived to conceal his real character from several Swiss officers, whom he had previously known. Being unable to procure a vessel bound for Cyprus, he embarked in one sailing to the coast of Caramania. ‘I introduced myself,’ he says, ‘to the passengers, who were Tripolines, as an Indian Mohammedan merchant, who had been, from early years, in England, and was now on his way home; and I had the good fortune to make my story credible. During the course of our voyage, numerous questions were put to me relative to India, which I answered as well as I could; and when I was asked for a specimen of the Hindoo language, I answered them in the worst dialect of the Swiss-German.’ Having landed at Satalia, he made an excursion to Tarsus, where, finding a vessel bound for the coast of Syria, he embarked for that country, and entered it at the point where the Aasi, the ancient Orontis, falls into the sea. Here he joined a caravan proceeding to Aleppo, in his way whither he was much annoyed by the companions of his journey insisting that he was a Frank; and at Antakia, one going so far as to pull him by the beard, he resented the affront by giving the offender a blow on the face. On his arrival at Aleppo, he assumed the name of Ibrahim, and applied himself with unceasing assiduity to the study of the Arabic language, into which he made an attempt to translate Robinson Crusoe. In July, 1810, he started, by way of Palmyra, for Damascus; and, in the course of his journey, was twice attacked by banditti, and robbed of his watch and compass. He quitted Damascus in September, but returned to that city, after having visited the ruins of Balbec, Libanus, and Mount Hermon. He subsequently made an excursion into the Hauràn, the patrimony of Abraham, and, on the 1st of January, 1811, again entered Aleppo. From hence he accompanied an Arab sheikh into the desert towards the Euphrates, but the protection of his guide being insufficient, he was robbed of all his clothes, and compelled to return, without having accomplished any of the objects of his journey. ‘It was in this excursion to the desert,’ says Mr. Barker, the British consul at Aleppo, ‘that Burckhardt had so hard a struggle with an Arab lady, who took a fancy to the only garment which the delicacy or compassion of the men had left him.’ On the 14th of February, he finally quitted Aleppo, and once more returning to Damascus, made another journey from thence into the Hauràn, in the course of which, he discovered the ruins of a city unvisited by any other European, which he conjectured to be those of Petra, the capital of Arabia Petræa. The ruins are situate in the valley of Ghor, or Araba, the existence of which, he says, ‘appears to have been unknown to ancient as well as modern geographers.’ Speaking of Balka, he observes, ‘many ruined places and mountains in that district preserve the names of the Old Testament; and elucidate the topography of the province that fell to the share of the tribes of Gad and Reuben.’

After many hardships and dangers, our traveler reached Cairo, in Egypt, with the intention of joining a caravan, and traveling to Fezzan, in the north of Africa,—​the grand object of his mission. Whilst, however, the caravan was preparing, he undertook an expedition to Nubia, on which he set out, accompanied by a guide, on the 14th of February, 1813. They were mounted on dromedaries, and Burckhardt’s only incumbrances were a gun, a sabre, a pistol, and a woollen mantle, which served by day for a carpet, and for a covering during the night. The country through which he passed was in a state of great distraction, but he proceeded in safety as far as the Mahass territory, on reaching which, ‘he found himself,’ says Mr. St. John, in his life of our traveler, ‘in the midst of the worst description of savages. The governor, a ferocious black, furiously intoxicated, and surrounded by numerous followers in the same condition, received him in a hut. In the midst of their drunken mirth, they called for muskets, and amused themselves with firing in the hut, and Burckhardt every moment expected that a random ball would put an end to his travels.’ Having proceeded up the Nile almost as far as Dongola, he turned towards the north, and at Kolbe swam across the river, ‘holding by his camel’s tail with one hand, and urging on the beast with the other.’ He then visited Ybsambul, Mosmos, Derr, and Assouan, where he remained till the 2d of March, 1814; his whole expenditure during the time of his stay, for himself, his servant, dromedary, and ass, not exceeding one shilling and sixpence per day.

Having assumed the character of a poor trader and a Turk of Syria, he on the day above-mentioned, set out with a caravan, through the deserts of Nubia, to Berbery and Shendy, as far as Suakim, on the Red sea, whence he performed his pilgrimage to Mecca by way of Jidda. During this journey, in the course of which he had an opportunity of confirming many of the statements of Bruce, he endured a series of hardships and sufferings scarcely inferior to those of Park in Africa. Whilst mad with thirst in the burning desert, he beheld the mocking mirage; and if he escaped burial beneath the overwhelming sand, lifted like a wave by the tempestuous blast, it was doubtful whether he had not yet a more dangerous foe to meet in the plundering Arab. At Damer, he cried beads for sale, to procure provisions for his ass; at Jidda, his finances were so low, that he was compelled to sell his slave, and he had already thoughts of resorting to manual labor, when he fortunately obtained three thousand piastres (about £100) by giving a bill upon Cairo. Crocodile’s flesh occasionally formed part of his food, and the dangers of the desert he found no greater than the inconveniences. Though almost worn out with fatigue, ‘I was obliged,’ he says, ‘every day, to fetch and cut wood, to light a fire, to cook, to feed the ass, and finally to make coffee; a cup of which, presented to my companions, was the only means I possessed of keeping them in a tolerable good humor.’ In his way through the Nubian desert, he relates a singular custom of the Arab guides, for the purpose of extorting small presents from travelers. ‘They alight,’ he says, ‘at certain spots, and beg a present; if it be refused, they collect a heap of sand, and mould it into the form of a diminutive tomb, and then placing a stone at each of the extremities, they apprise the traveler that his tomb is made; meaning, that henceforth there will be no security for him in this rocky wilderness.

Our traveler remained at Mecca from the 9th of September until the 15th of January, 1815, during which time he accurately noted the manners and customs of the holy city, without his real character being discovered, though it had been previously suspected by the pasha of Tayef, who jocosely observed, ‘It is not the beard alone which proves a man to be a true Moslem.’ On the 28th, Burckhardt reached Medina, which he quitted on the 21st of April, in a state of great mental depression, and still suffering from the recent attack of an intermittent fever. To add to his dejection, he found, on his arrival at Yambo, the plague in its most virulent shape: and being unable to procure a boat, he was obliged to remain a witness of its horrors for more than a fortnight, during which time, he says, ‘the air, night and day, was filled with the piercing cries of those who had been bereaved of the objects of their affection.’ At length, on the 24th of June, he reached Cairo, where, after having recruited his health, he employed himself in drawing up an account of his travels. In the spring of 1816, he visited Mount Sinai; and, having returned to Cairo, was making preparations to commence his long-delayed journey to Fezzan, to explore the source of the Niger, when he was attacked with dysentery on the 14th, and died on the 15th of October, 1817. ‘I have closed,’ says Mr. St. John, ‘the lives of few travelers with more regret.’ His obsequies were performed after the Mohammedan custom, according to his own request to Mr. Salt, to whom he observed, a few moments previously to his death, ‘that as he had lived as a Mussulman in the east, the Turks would claim his body; and perhaps,’ said he, ‘you had better let them.’

Thus fell another victim in the cause of geographical discovery, which, in Mr. Burckhardt, may be said to have lost one of its most able and enterprising devotees. Patient, courageous, cautious, and intelligent, no fatigues dispirited, no obstacle disconcerted, and no dangers dismayed him. He conformed himself to the manners of the various countries through which he passed with admirable tact; and, with an apparent carelessness of what was passing around him, suffered nothing worth observation to escape his attention.

James Bruce was born at Kinnaird, near Falkirk, in Stirlingshire, on the 14th of December, 1730, and, in 1738, was placed under the care of his uncle, a barrister in London, who sent him, in January, 1742, to school, at Harrow. Here he so successfully prosecuted his studies, that Dr. Cox, the head-master, said of him, in a letter to a friend, ‘When you write to Mr. Bruce’s father about his son, you cannot say too much; for he is as promising a young man as ever I had under my care; and, for his years, I never saw his fellow.’ From Harrow, he went, for a few months, to a private academy, where he renewed his classical studies, and acquired a knowledge of French, drawing, arithmetic and geometry. In the November of 1747, he entered the University of Edinburgh, with the intention of studying the law; which, at his father’s desire, he had determined on adopting as his profession. Disinclination, however, and ill-health, induced him, in the spring of 1748, to relinquish for ever the sedentary labors of a law student; and being threatened with consumption, he retired to Scotland, where he remained till 1753. In the July of that year, he went to London, with the intention of embarking for the East Indies, where he purposed settling as a free trader, under the patronage of the Company, to whom he had already prepared a petition. An attachment, however, frustrated this design; and, in February, 1754, he married a Miss Allan, daughter of a deceased wine-merchant; and, for a short time, held a share in the business. This he relinquished on the death of his wife, which happened in Paris, eight months after her marriage; and such was the bigotry of the catholics towards protestants, that he was compelled to inter her at midnight, and to steal a grave in the burying ground assigned to the English embassy.

After this event, he again turned his attention to literature, and acquired a knowledge of the Spanish and Portuguese tongues, as well as the art of drawing; all of which studies he pursued with a view to their utility in the future travels that he secretly contemplated. At the commencement of the vintage season, in July, 1757, he embarked for the continent; and, after landing at Corunna, traversed Spain and Portugal, where he sojourned till the end of the year, devoting much attention to the social and political state of those countries. At the beginning of 1758, he passed over the Pyrenees to France; thence down the Rhine into Germany and the Netherlands, whence he was recalled to England, in July, by a letter announcing the death of his father. Whilst at Brussels, having taken the part of a young stranger, insulted in his presence, he was challenged to fight a duel, in which he severely wounded his antagonist, and was obliged to fly the city. The death of his father entitled him to an inheritance which afforded him ample means of efficiently and uninterruptedly pursuing the studies which were necessary to the success of his designs; and, by the year 1761, he had collected most of the Dutch and Italian books on the subject of oriental literature. He had also made great progress in the Arabic and Ethiopic languages, to the study of which was owing his determination to explore the sources of the Nile.

About this time, a rupture being anticipated between England and Spain, he visited Mr. Wood, the under-secretary of state, whom he requested to lay before the minister, Mr. Pitt, a plan he had concerted, when abroad, of an expedition against the latter country, by attacking Gallicia, in Ferrol. After much negotiation, his suggestion was adopted by the ministry, but it was subsequently abandoned, owing to the Portuguese ambassador having represented the great danger that would result to his country from such an expedition. Chagrined at the failure of his military project, he meditated returning to Scotland, where the recent discovery of some valuable mines on his estate would have enabled him to live with comfort and independence, when he received a message from Lord Halifax, requesting to see him before he left London. His lordship ridiculed the idea of Bruce’s retirement; and, after hinting to him the encouragement which the king would bestow on enterprise and discovery, suggested Africa to him, as a fit region for the exercise of both; and, as a further inducement to his visiting that country, offered him the situation of consul-general at Algiers, with leave to appoint a vice-consul in his absence. He promised him, in addition, the rewards stipulated in the affair of Ferrol, and advancement to a higher diplomatic station, if he made wide incursions into the former country.

He at length acceded to the proposal of Lord Halifax, and, in June, 1762, having previously been introduced to the king, set out for Africa. He reached that country on the 20th of March, 1763; when such was his knowledge of the Arabic, that he was able to fulfill his consular duties without the aid of an interpreter. On his way thither, he passed through the principal cities of Italy, where he made several sketches of its temples and ruins; and, it appears from his manuscripts, that he also intended writing a dissertation on the ancient and modern state of Rome. Shortly after his arrival at Algiers, a dispute occurred between him and the dey, concerning Mediterranean passes, for carrying which in a form differing from that originally prescribed, several British vessels were seized and destroyed; of which, having first remonstrated with the dey, he immediately wrote to inform government. The ministry, however, who had been secretly prejudiced against him, by a party hostile to him at Algiers, treated his communication very lightly; and, in May, 1765, being recalled to England, he was compelled, either to abandon the principal design of his residence in Barbary, or to make his intended excursions as a private individual. After some consideration, he adopted the latter alternative; and, on the 25th of August, sailed for Tunis, stopping, on his way thither, at Utica and Carthage, the ruins of which cities he stayed some time to examine, making drawings of the most important parts, in which he was assisted by a young Bolognese artist, whom he had brought with him from Italy. In one of his incursions into the interior of the country, he discovered Cirta, the capital of Syphax, whence he returned to Tunis, and started thence for Tripoli, by way of Gabs and Gerba. On entering the desert which borders the latter town, he was attacked by the Arabs, and compelled to return to Tunis, where he remained till August, 1766, when he crossed the desert in safety, and arrived at Tripoli. He next proceeded, across the Gulf of Sydra, to Bengazi and Ptolometa, and shortly afterwards, set sail for Crete, when a shipwreck drove him again upon the African shore, with the loss of every thing but his drawings and books, which he had fortunately despatched from Tripoli to Smyrna. From Begazi, the place of his shipwreck, and where he was cruelly treated, he escaped, by a French vessel, to Canea, where he was detained by an intermittent fever, till the end of April, 1767, when he proceeded, by way of Rhodes, to Sidon.

On the 16th of September he commenced his journey to Balbec, which he reached on the 19th of the same month; and, having returned to Tripoli, set out, in a few weeks, for Palmyra. After making several drawings, which, as well as those of Balbec, he afterwards presented to the king, he traveled along the coast to Latakia, Antioch, and Aleppo, where he was attacked by a fever, from which he with great difficulty recovered. About this time, meditating the discovery of the source of the Nile, he left Aleppo for Alexandria, where he arrived on the 20th of June, 1768. From hence he proceeded by land to Rosetta, where he embarked on the Nile for Cairo. After impressing the bey of the city with an idea of his skill in medicine and prophecy, he sailed to Syene, visiting, in his way thither, the ruins of Thebes; and, on the 19th of February, 1769, set out from Kenne, through the Thebaid desert, to Cosseir, on the Red Sea; and from thence proceeded to Tor and Jidda, where he landed on the 5th of May. After making several excursions in Arabia Felix, he quitted Loheia, on the 3d of September, for Masuah; where on his arrival, he was detained for some weeks, by the treachery and avarice of the governor of that place, who attempted to murder him, in consequence of his refusal to make him an enormous present. In February, 1770, he entered Gondar, the capital of Abyssinia, the ras of which city appointed him gentleman-usher of the king’s bed-chamber, commander of the household cavalry, and governor of a province.

On the 27th of October, after having taken an active part, in the councils of the sovereign, and effected several cures of persons about the court attacked with the small-pox, he left the capital, and set out in search of the source of the Nile, which he discovered at Saccala, on the 14th of the following November. The joy he felt on the occasion is thus described by himself: ‘It is easier to guess than to describe the situation of my mind at that moment; standing in that spot which had baffled the genius, history, and inquiry of both ancients and moderns, for the course of nearly three thousand years. Kings had attempted this discovery at the head of armies, and each expedition was distinguished from the last only by the difference of the numbers which had perished, and agreed alone in the disappointment which had uniformly, and without exception, followed them all. Fame, riches, and honor, had been held out, for a series of ages, to every individual of the myriads those princes commanded, without having produced one man capable of gratifying the curiosity of his sovereign, or wiping off the stain upon the enterprise and abilities of mankind, or adding this desideratum for the encouragement of geography. Though a mere private Briton, I triumphed here in my own mind over kings and their armies; and every comparison was leading the nearer to presumption, when the place itself where I stood, the object of my vain glory, suggested what depressed my short-lived triumphs. I was but a few minutes arrived at the source of the Nile, though numberless dangers and sufferings, the least of which would have overwhelmed me, but for the continual goodness and protection of Providence; I was, however, then but half through my journey, and all those dangers which I had already passed, awaited me again on my return. I found a despondency gaining ground fast upon me, and blasting the crown of laurels I had too rashly woven for myself.’

After returning to Gondar, our traveler found much difficulty in obtaining permission to proceed on his way homewards; it being a rule with the inhabitants never to allow a stranger to quit Abyssinia. A civil war breaking out in the country about the period of his intended departure, he was compelled to remain in it till the December of the following year, and took part in one of their battles, in which his valiant conduct was such that the king presented him with a rich suit of apparel, and a gold chain of immense value. At length, at the end of 1771, he set out from Gondar, and in the February of the following year, arrived at Senaar, where he remained two months, suffering under the most inhospitable treatment, and deceived in his supplies of money which compelled him to sell the gold chain he had been presented with. He then proceeded by Chiendi, and Gooz, through the Nubian desert, and on the 29th of November, reached Assouan, on the Nile, after a most dreadful and dangerous journey, in the course of which he lost all his camels and baggage, and twice laid himself down in the expectation of death. Having procured, however, fresh camels, he returned to the desert and recovered most part of his baggage, with which, on the 10th of January, he arrived at Cairo: where, ingratiating himself with the bey, he obtained permission for English commanders to bring their vessels and merchandise to Suez, as well as to Jidda, an advantage no other European nation had before been able to acquire. In the beginning of March he arrived at Alexandria, whence he sailed to Marseilles; where he landed about the end of the month, suffering under great agony from a disease called the Guinea worm, which totally disabled him from walking, and had nearly proved fatal to him during his voyage. Notwithstanding, however, the perils he underwent, and the barbarities he witnessed in the course of his travels, and particularly at Abyssinia, yet even that country he left with some regret, and would often recall, with a feeling almost of tenderness, the kindnesses he had received there, especially from the ras’s wife, Ozoro Esther, between himself and whom a very affectionate intimacy had existed.

After residing a few weeks in the south of France, he set out for Paris, in company with Buffon, to whom he communicated much valuable information which that celebrated naturalist has acknowledged in his advertisement to the third volume of the History of Birds. His health being still unconfirmed, he left the French capital in July, and made a second tour into Italy where he resided till the spring of 1774, when he again returned to France, and thence proceeded to England, which he reached in June following, after an absence of twelve years. Previously to leaving Scotland, he had contracted an engagement with a lady, whom, during his travels, he never forgot; and he was so incensed, on his arrival at Rome, on hearing that she had married an Italian marquess, that he insisted on fighting with her husband, who, however, declined the challenge. After remaining some months in London, he returned to his mansion at Kinnaird, to regulate his private affairs, which he found greatly disordered in consequence of his relations having supposed him dead, and taken possession of great part of his effects; to prevent a recurrence of which, he married the daughter of Thomas Dundas, Esq., of Fingask, who, after bearing him three children, died in the spring of 1785.

In 1790, the account of his travels, which had long been looked for with anxiety, appeared in five quarto volumes, with plates, maps and charts. The extraordinary events and discoveries which they contained, occasioned many to doubt the truth and accuracy of Bruce; and some went so far as to assert, that he had never even been in Abyssinia. Recent travelers, however, and among them Mr. Salt, one of his most hostile sceptics, have confirmed the greater part of his assertions relative to that country, though many of them still remain doubtful and unauthenticated. Such was the effect of the reports circulated against his work, that, according to Dr. Clarke, a short time after its publication, several copies were sold in Dublin for waste paper. Being, however, translated into French, his book was widely circulated on the continent; and he had made arrangements for printing an octavo edition, when, on the 26th of April 1794, he fell down the stairs of his mansion at Kinnaird, while in the act of handing a lady to dinner, and expired the following morning.

The person of Mr. Bruce being nearly six feet four inches in height, and of great muscular strength, was well suited to the enterprises he undertook and the dangers he encountered. Though his hair was a dark red, his countenance had a handsome cast; and though he possessed great urbanity of manners, his mien was dignified, and almost haughty. He paid particular attention to his dress, especially during his travels, the fatigue and danger of which never prevented him from appearing in the most elegant costume of the different countries he visited. He was an excellent horseman and swimmer, and an unerring marksman; and, for his skill in the latter capacity, was mistaken by the barbarians, who were unaquainted with the use of fire-arms, for a magician. In addition to his numerous literary accomplishments, he acquired a considerable knowledge of physic and surgery, which he practiced with great success in Africa and Abyssinia. He possessed a mind prudent and vigorous, and a spirit untameable by danger or disappointment, so that he was enabled finally to ensure the success of his most ambitious projects. In Abyssinia he discovered a plant very serviceable in cases of dysentery; and brought the seeds of it to England, where it is known by the name of Brucea, having been so called by Sir Joseph Banks, in honor of its finder. An island in the Red Sea, on the coast of Abyssinia, also bears his name.

The doubt which prevailed respecting the truth of his narratives, was in a great degree owing to the habit he had of telling his own exploits, which he embellished with a coloring of romance calculated to weaken the credulity of his hearers. His account of his travels became the subject of much disputation; and Dr. Vincent, who defended it, allowed that Bruce was in some instances mistaken, by aspiring to knowledge and science which he had not sufficiently examined; though, he adds, ‘his work throughout bears internal marks of veracity, in all instances where he was not deceived himself; and his observations were the best which a man, furnished with such instruments, and struggling for his life, could obtain.’ He was often pompous and ostentatious, especially in his character of consul. The Bey of Cairo, having, after a long conversation, ordered him a purse of sequins, he declined accepting any thing more than a single orange, saying to the Bey, who requested to know his reason, ‘I am an Englishman, and the servant of the greatest king in Europe: it is not the custom of my country to receive pecuniary gratuities from foreign princes without the approbation of our sovereign.’ In alluding to his pictures of Palmyra and Balbec, which are in the king’s library at Kew, he used to speak of them as ‘the most magnificent presents ever made in that line by a subject to a sovereign.’ It has been said, however, that he received for these drawings the sum of £2000. He was descended, on his mother’s side, from Robert Bruce, King of Scotland, a circumstance he was excessively proud of; and he once said to a friend, that ‘he was entitled to give his servants royal livery.’ He occupied much of the latter part of his life in the formation of a museum, in his own house, which contained many rare and valuable curiosities.

He expressed an utter contempt for all kinds of suspicion with regard to his veracity, which he could never be prevailed on to take any pains to substantiate. When requested by his friends, to alter or explain any thing, he would sternly repeat, ‘What I have written, I have written!’ with which words he concluded the preface to his travels. ‘Dining out, one day,’ says Major Head, ‘at the house of a friend, a gentleman present observed, “that it was impossible the natives of Abyssinia could eat raw meat;” on which, Bruce without saying a word, left the table, and shortly returned from the kitchen with a piece of raw beef-steak, peppered and salted in the Abyssinian fashion, and said to the gentleman, “Sir, you will eat that, or fight me;” the person addressed chose to do the former, when Bruce calmly observed, “Now sir, you will never again say it is impossible.”’ Major Head also relates the following anecdote: ‘Single-speech Hamilton, who was Bruce’s first cousin, one evening said to him, “that to convince the world of his power of drawing, he need only draw something then in as good a style as those paintings which it had been said were done for him by his Italian artist.” “Gerard!” replied Bruce, very gravely, “you made one fine speech, and the world doubted its being your own composition; but, if you will stand up now here, and make another speech as good, we shall believe it to have been your own.”’

He used to teach his daughter, who was scarcely twelve years old, the proper mode of pronouncing the Abyssinian words, ‘that he might leave,’ as he said, ‘some one behind him who could pronounce them correctly. He repeatedly said to her, with feelings highly excited, ‘I shall not live, my child, but you probably will, to see the truth of all I have written thoroughly confirmed.’

John Ledyard was born about 1750, at Groton, Mass., and after having received a good education, and passed some time among the Indians of America, for the purpose of studying their manners, went to Europe about the year 1776, and made the tour of the world with Captain Cook, as corporal of a troop of marines. On his return to England in 1780, he formed the design of penetrating from the north-western to the eastern coast of America; and, after some conversation on the subject with Sir Joseph Banks, who furnished him with some money, which he expended in sea stores, with the intention of sailing to Nootka Sound, he altered his mind, and determined on traveling overland to Kamschatka, from whence the passage is very short to the opposite shore of America. Accordingly, towards the close of the year 1786, he started with only ten guineas in his pocket, and on his arrival at Stockholm, he attempted to traverse the gulf of Bothnia on the ice, but finding the water unfrozen, when he came to the middle, he returned to Stockholm, and proceeding northward, walked to the arctic circle, and passing round the head of the gulf, descended on its eastern side to St. Petersburgh, where he arrived in March, 1787, without shoes and stockings, which he was unable to purchase. In this state, however, he was treated with great attention by the Portuguese ambassador, who often invited him to dinner, and procured him an advance of twenty guineas on a bill drawn on Sir Joseph Banks, and finally obtained him permission to accompany a convoy of provisions to Yakutz, where he was recognized and kindly received by Captain Billings, whom he had known in Cook’s vessel, and with whom he returned to Irkutsk.

From hence he proceeded to Ocsakow, on the coast of the Kamschatkan Sea, whence, in the spring, he intended to have passed over to that peninsula, and to have embarked on the eastern side, in one of the Russian vessels trading to America; but finding the navigation obstructed he returned to Yakutz, to await the termination of the winter. His intentions, however, were suddenly frustrated by the arrival of an order from the empress for his arrest, which took place in January, 1788, without any reason being assigned for such a proceeding. He was deprived of his papers, placed in a sledge, and under the guard of two cossacks, conducted through the desert of Siberia and Tartary, to the frontiers of Poland, where he was left, covered with rags and vermin, and prohibited from returning to Russia on pain of death. In this situation he set out for Kœnigsberg, on arriving at which town, he obtained five guineas, by drawing a bill in the same manner as before, with which sum he proceeded to England. On his arrival, he called on Sir Joseph Banks, who proposed to him to undertake a voyage to Africa, to discover the source of the river Niger, at the expense of the society for making discoveries in that part of the world; an offer he accepted with avidity, and being asked when he would be ready to set out, he exclaimed, ‘To-morrow morning!’ On the 30th of June, 1788, he embarked for Calais, passed through France to Marseilles, reached Alexandria on the 5th of August, and on the 19th arrived at Cairo, where he had almost completed the preparations for his departure to Senar, when he was seized with a billious fever, and died in the latter end of the following October.

Mr. Ledyard was a man of extraordinary vigor both of mind and body, and no record exists of a more bold and perserving adventurer. In person he was of the middle stature, strong and active; and in manners, though unpolished, pleasing and urbane. ‘Little attentive,’ says his biographer ‘to deference of rank, he seemed to consider all men as his equals, and as such he respected them. His genius, though uncultivated and irregular, was original and comprehensive. Ardent in his wishes, yet calm in his deliberations; daring in his purposes, but guarded in his measures; impatient of control, yet capable of strong endurance; adventurous beyond the conception of ordinary men, yet wary and considerate, and attentive to all precautions; he seemed to be formed by nature for achievements of hardihood and peril.’ He appears to have undergone much sufferings during his Siberian tour, and, like Mr. Park, more than once owed his life to the kindness of women. ‘In wandering,’ he says, in his journal, ‘orve the plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, and frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wandering Tartar; if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, the women have ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so; and to add to this virtue, these actions have been performed in so free and kind a manner, that if I was dry, I drank the sweetest draught; and if hungry, I ate the coarsest morsel with a double relish.’

He left some manuscripts behind, which were printed in London a few years after his death, in a work called Memoirs of the Society instituted for encouraging Discoveries in the Interior of Africa. A work, entitled Voyages de MM. Ledyard et Lucas, en Afrique, suivis d’extraits d’autres voyages, was also printed at Paris in 1804. Mr. Ledyard, in his journal, evinces great powers of observation, and a sound judgment and understanding. Some idea of his sufferings may be formed, in reading the following extract: ‘I have known,’ he writes, ‘both hunger and nakedness to the utmost extremity of human suffering. I have known what it is to have food given me as charity to a madman; and I have at times been obliged to shelter myself under the miseries of that character, to avoid a heavier calamity. My distresses have been greater than I have ever owned, or ever will own, to any man. Such evils are terrible to bear; but they never yet had power to turn me from my purpose. If I live, I will faithfully perform, in its utmost extent, my engagements to the Society; and if I perish in the attempt, my honor will still be safe, for death cancels all bonds.’

John Baptist Belzoni was born about 1780, at Padua, in Italy, and passed the greater part of his youth at Rome, where he was preparing himself to become a monk, when, he observes, ‘the sudden entry of the French into that city, altered the course of my education, and being destined to travel, I have been a wanderer ever since.’ In 1803, he visited England and married; when, having but scanty means of subsistence, he went to Scotland and Ireland, and exhibited, at various theatres, a series of experiments in hydraulics, a science to which he had devoted much of his time in Italy. Finding, however, that he received but little profit from these exhibitions, he determined on a public display of his strength, which he put forth in feats that astonished and attracted crowded audiences wherever he appeared. Though, at that time, very young, he was six feet seven inches in height; and such was his elephantine power, that he could walk across the stage with no less than two-and-twenty persons attached by straps to different parts of his body. In 1812, he exhibited at Lisbon and at Madrid; and sailed afterwards to Malta, whence, he set out for Cairo, for the purpose of making a machine for raising water out of the Nile to water the bashaw’s gardens. Whilst on his way to the palace, he received so severe a blow on the leg, that he was confined to his bed thirty days before he could be introduced to the bashaw; who merely observed, on being told of Belzoni’s wound, ‘that such accidents could not be avoided where there were troops.’

Having concluded an agreement to make a machine which should enable one ox to raise as much water as was drawn previously by four, he, after much difficulty and obstruction on the part of those whose cattle were employed in the gardens, completed his work, and demonstrated with great success, a practical experiment of its power. The opposition, however, of the Arabs to the use of his machine, which they had materially damaged, induced Belzoni to relinquish his projects concerning it, and to undertake, at the suggestion of Mr. Salt and Mr. Burckhardt, an expedition to Thebes, for the purpose of removing an enormous bust, to which they had given the name of ‘the younger Memnon.’

‘It has been erroneously stated,’ says Belzoni, ‘that I was regularly employed by Mr. Salt for the purpose of bringing the colossal bust from Thebes to Alexandria. I positively deny that I was ever engaged by him in any shape whatever, either by words or writing, as I have proofs of the case being on the contrary. When I ascended the Nile, the first and second time, I had no other idea in my mind, but that I was making researches for antiquities which were to be placed in the British Museum; and it is naturally to be supposed, that I would not have made these excursions, had I been aware that all I found was for the benefit of a gentleman whom I never had the pleasure to see before in my life.’

Our traveler, accompanied by his wife, left Boolak on the 30th of June, 1815, examined the ruins of ancient Antinoe, and arrived at Ashoumain, where he met with the first remains of Egyptian architecture, which he supposes to have been of a date anterior to those of Thebes. Having arrived at Siout, he requested of the bashaw’s physician, permission to employ the workmen necessary to remove the head of Memnon; but not receiving a favorable reply, he, by means of his interpreter, procured the requisite assistance, and after viewing the tombs of Issus, proceeded to Thebes. On his way thither, he visited, near Dendera, the Temple of Tentyra, before which he remained seated some time, lost in admiration, at ‘the singularity of its preservation, and the extent and magnificence of its structure.’ On his return to Dendera, the inhabitants insisted on detaining his interpreter, imagining him to be the same who had joined the French army, some years ago, and declaring ‘that he had been long enough among Christian dogs.’ With much difficulty he procured the man’s release, and in a few days, came in sight of the ruins of Thebes, of which he thus writes:—​‘The most sublime ideas that can be formed from the most magnificenct specimens of our present architecture, would give a very incorrect picture of these ruins: for such is the difference, not only in magnitude, but in form, proportion, and construction, that even the pencil can convey but a faint idea of the whole. It appeared to me like entering a city of giants, who, after a long conflict, were all destroyed, leaving the ruins of their various temples as the only proofs of their former existence.’ After pausing with wonder before the two colossal figures in the plain, he proceeded to examine the bust, which it was the object of his expedition to remove. ‘I found it,’ he observes, ‘near the remains of its body and chair, with its face upwards, and apparently smiling on me, at the thought of being taken to England.’ Finding the distance to his boat on the Nile too far to go every night, he built a small hut with the stones of the Memnonium, in which, with Mrs. Belzoni, he determined to remain till he had accomplished the removal of the bust. This, after much difficulty and persuasion, he procured sufficient men to raise from the ground; ‘which,’ says Belzoni, ‘so astonished the Arabs, that, though it was the effect of their own efforts, they said it was the devil that did it.’ On the 5th of August, he reached, with the head, that part of the land which he was afraid of being prevented from crossing by the rising of the water; and on the 12th, he observes, ‘Thank God, the young Memnon arrived on the bank of the Nile.’ Next day he entered a cave in the mountains of Gornou, for the purpose of taking out a sarcophagus which had been mentioned to him by Mr. Drouetti; and which, after having more than once lost his way in the different avenues that led to it, he was preparing to remove, when the Arabs, who were working for him, were put into prison by the cacheff of Erments, who replied, on his complaining of such conduct, ‘that the sarcophagus had been sold to the French consul, and that no one else should have it.’

Whilst waiting the arrival of a boat from Cairo, be made an excursion to the Temple of Ybsambul, the entrance of which, though choked up by an accumulation of sand to the height of thirty-six feet, he determined on using his utmost endeavors to open. Previously, however, to commencing his operations, he made a voyage to the second cataract of the Nile; in reference to which he says, ‘though some authors assert that the Nile has no waves, but runs quite smooth, I can assure the reader that we were this day tossed about as if by a gale at sea.’ On his return to Ybsambul, he immediately began to clear the entrance to the temple, and after five days’ labor, had succeeded in uncovering twenty feet of sand, when, finding that he had neither sufficient time nor money for the completion of his undertaking, he obtained a promise from the cacheff to keep the place untouched till his return, and descended the Nile to Deboade, where he took possession of an obelisk, twenty-two feet long, ‘in the name of his Britannic majesty’s consul in Cairo.’ On arriving at Thebes, he met two Frenchmen, who made some remarks on the head of Memnon to deter him from taking it away, and was told by their dragoman, that if he persevered in his researches, ‘he should have his throat cut, by order of two personages.’ After hiring a boat to convey the bust to Cairo, he proceeded to Carnak, where he employed twenty men to dig away the sand from a large temple, from the ruins of which he transported to Luxor six sphinxes and a white statue of Jupiter Ammon, which he subsequently conveyed to England, and are now in the British Museum. The merit of the discoveries he made here, was attempted to be taken from him by Count de Forbin, who published an account, extracted from Belzoni’s letters.

After examining the extensive ruins of Medinet Aboo, which he describes as ‘best worthy the attention of the traveler of any on the west of Thebes,’ and penetrating into several tombs which he discovered in the valley of Beban el Malook, Belzoni returned to Luxor with the intention of putting on board the colossal head, which, after many impediments, he effected on the 17th of November. On the 15th of December he arrived at Cairo, with the bust and other antiquities; the latter of which he left, according to the instructions of Mr. Salt, at the consulate, and with the former, departed for Alexandria, where he saw it safely deposited in a British transport. Having accomplished this important object, he proceeded to resume his operations at the Temple of Ybsambul, stopping on his way thither at Thebes, where he found the agents of Mr. Drouetti in the act of completing many of the excavations he had begun, and removing several statues and sphinxes from the ruins. With some difficulty our traveler procured sufficient workmen to pursue his excavations at Carnak, where he discovered a magnificent temple, dedicated to the great God of the creation; on entering which, he says, ‘my mind was impressed with ideas of such solemnity, that for some time I was unconscious whether I were on terrestial ground, or in some other planet.’

From Carnak he again proceeded to Gornou, a tract of rocks two miles in length, and formerly the burial place of the city of Thebes; of which subterranean abodes, the most wonderful in the world, he thus speaks:—​‘In some places there is not more than a vacancy of a foot left, which you must contrive to pass through in a creeping posture, like a snail, on pointed and keen stones, that cut like glass. Once I was conducted from such a place to another resembling it, through a passage of about two feet in length, and no wider than a body could be forced through. It was choked with mummies, and I could not pass without putting my face in contact with that of some decayed Egyptian; but as the passage inclined downwards, my own weight helped me on, however, I could not avoid being covered with bones, legs, arms, and heads rolling from above; at the same time my throat and nose were choked with dust; but, though fortunately I am destitute of the sense of smelling, I could taste that the mummies were rather unpleasant to swallow.’ After collecting several papyri from the shrouds of the mummies, and purchasing a pair of beautiful brazen vessels, which he describes as ‘two of the finest articles of metallic composition, that ever were to be found in Egypt,’ he returned to Carnak, where, among other discoveries, he dug up, and sent to England, a colossal head of red granite, still larger than that of the younger Memnon. About this time he was joined by Captains Mangles and Irby, with whose assistance he succeeded in entering the temple at Ybsambul, which he found to be one hundred and seventeen feet wide, and eighty-six feet high, and ‘enriched with beautiful intaglios, paintings, colossal figures, etc.’ His next and most important discovery was in the valley of Beban el Malook, of a vast and magnificent tomb, described by him as ‘a new and perfect monument of Egyptian antiquity, which can be recorded as superior to any other in point of grandeur, style, and preservation.’ Speaking of the day on which he discovered this tomb, he says, ‘I may call it one of the best, perhaps, of my life; it led me to the fortunate spot which has paid me for all the trouble I took in my researches.’

On his return to Cairo, he was much annoyed to hear that the credit of the discoveries he had made had been usurped by others, who had been announced, by name, in the English journals, as the means of bringing to light the principal temples which he had so long been employed in excavating. Accordingly he resolved, in future, to keep his operations as secret as possible; and with this view, went alone, to inspect the second great pyramid of Ghizeh, ‘that enormous mass which, for so many ages, has baffled the conjectures of ancient and modern writers;’ and which, whether one solid mass, or possessing any cavity in the interior, no one had yet been able to ascertain. Notwithstanding, however, the difficulty of the attempt, and the uncertainty of success, he resolved on making an effort to discover an entrance to the tomb; a project for the undertaking of which, £20,000 had been considered by Mr. Drouetti necessary, while Belzoni determined to begin it with the small sum of £200, all he, at that moment, possessed. Having procured the requisite number of workmen, he commenced his operations, and after a month’s labor, to his inexpressible delight, found a passage, and penetrated into the centre of the pyramid. So unsuccessful, however, were his attempts at first, that those who came to see him at work, ridiculed the idea of his proceeding further, and the Count de Forbin, says Belzoni, ‘requested, in a kind of sarcastic manner, when I had succeeded in opening the pyramid, (which, no doubt, he supposed I never would,) that I would send him a plan of it.’ Accordingly Belzoni sent it to the count, who taking advantage of the opportunity, on his arrival in Paris, caused it to be published in the newspapers, that he himself had penetrated into the pyramid, and produced the plan as an evidence.

Having sent some account of his proceedings to England, Belzoni made a third journey to Thebes, whence, after taking models in wax of the principal tombs, he set out on a voyage to the Red Sea, principally with the intention of visiting Sarkiet Minor, said to be the site of ancient Berenice. Accordingly, on the 16th of September, 1818, accompanied by Mr. Beechey, he embarked at Gornou, and sailing down the Nile, was witness to one of the most calamitous inundations ever known; the river having risen three feet and a half higher than usual, and swept away several villages and some hundred of their inhabitants. On leaving the Nile, he proceeded across the desert to the Red Sea, the coast of which he found to have been accurately described by Bruce; and, at Cape el Golahen, he discovered the ruins of a town, which, from his own observations, and those of the geographer, D’Anville, he concluded to be the site of ancient Berenice, of which city he had found no traces at Sarkiet Minor. Returning to Gornou, he was met by Mr. Salt and Mr. Banks, the latter of whom, having been authorized to take possession of the obelisk found by Belzoni in the island of Philoe, engaged him to remove it down the Nile to Alexandria, preparatory to its embarkation for England. On reaching the spot where it lay, he, after some opposition on the part of Mr. Drouetti, who claimed the obelisk as his own, commenced his operations for putting it on board, which he effected after a delay of three days, caused by its slipping from the machine into the water. Having arrived at Luxor, he landed for a few days to visit the excavations he had commenced at Carnak, when, on his returning to the boat, he was suddenly attacked by a large party of Arabs, headed by two Europeans and Mr Drouetti, who endeavored to force Belzoni to deliver up the obelisk. He was, however, firm in his refusal; but, on reaching the Nile, hastened on to Alexandria, determined to quit Egypt for ever, as he observes, ‘I could not live any longer in a country where I had become the object of revenge, to a set of people who could take the basest means to accomplish their purpose.’

Previously, however, to sailing for Europe, he made an excursion to Faiume, the ruins of ancient Arsinoe, Lake Mœris, and the Oasis of Ammon, near Zaboo, where he received a severe injury on his side, in consequence of his camel falling with him down a hard rock of twenty feet in depth. In this journey he tried to discover some remains of the famous Temple of the Labyrinth; visited the fountain at Ell Cassar, mentioned by Herodotus; and, after passing some time at various places, in search of antiquities, returned to Alexandria, whence, in the middle of September, 1819, he says, ‘Thank God, we embarked for Europe; not that I disliked the country I was in, for, on the contrary, I have reason to be grateful; nor do I complain of the Turks or Arabs in general, but of some Europeans who are in that country, whose conduct and mode of thinking are a disgrace to human nature.’ On his arrival in Italy, he visited his friends and family at Padua; to which city he presented two lion-headed statues of granite, which were placed, by his townsmen, in the Palazza della Justitia, who also struck a medal in honor of him. In 1820, he reached England; and, in the same year, published an Account of his Travels and Discoveries, a work which excited the interest and attention of the whole literary and scientific world. In 1821, he exhibited, at the Egyptian Hall, in Piccadilly, a representation of two of the principal chambers of a tomb he had discovered in Beban el Malook, besides a model of the entire excavation; with several specimens of Egyptian sculpture, cases containing idols, mummies, etc., and a superb manuscript of papyrus.

In the latter end of 1822, Belzoni left England for Gibraltar, with the intention of traveling through Africa to Senaar, by way of Timbuctoo, a city which, up to that time, had never been visited by an European. On reaching Fez, he was introduced to the emperor of Morocco, who, at first, gave him permission to join a caravan about to set out for Timbuctoo; but, subsequently, remanded him back to Tangiers, whence our traveler proceeded to Gibraltar, determined not to relinquish his project, although he had already fruitlessly expended £1,000 in his attempt to accomplish it. Having arrived at Madeira, he continued his course to Teneriffe and Cape Coast Castle, where he resolved to take a northerly direction, from the kingdom of Benim direct to Houssa, towards the east of which country he had some hope of falling in with the Niger. On the 30th of October, he reached the Bar of Benim river; and, after making an excursion to the capital of Warra, about one hundred and twenty miles distant from Bobee, returned to the latter place, and set out, in company with Mr. Houtson, an English merchant, on his expedition to Timbuctoo. Whilst stepping into the canoe in which he departed, he evinced much agitation; and when the crew of the vessel he had just left, gave him three cheers, it was with trepidation, though with earnestness, that he exclaimed—​‘God bless you, my fine fellows! and send you a happy sight of your country and friends!’ He reached Gato on the 20th of November, 1823; and, on the 26th, departed for Benim, where he arrived in the evening of the same day, suffering slightly from an attack of diarrhœa, of which he had complained in the course of his journey. After some negotiation with the king of Benim, to whom Mr. Belzoni was represented as an Indian, or Malay, on his return home, it was arranged that he should be escorted as far as Houssa, whither, however, his diarrhœa, now changed to a dysentery, prevented him from preparing to proceed.

On the 2d of December, his illness increased to such an alarming degree, that he expressed a conviction of his approaching death, and begged Mr. Houtson to send him back to Gato, in the faint hope that the sea breeze might revive him. On his arrival there, though much fatigued, he appeared better for the voyage; resumed his usual cheerfulness, ate and drank, slightly, of bread and tea, and fell into a sound sleep, from which, however, he awoke with a dizziness in the head, and coldness in the extremities; shortly after he lost the power of speech, and, in the afternoon of the 3d of December, tranquilly expired.

Previously to his death, he had given directions respecting his papers, and had attempted to write to his wife; but, his strength failing him, he requested Mr. Houtson ‘to bear witness that he died in the fullest and most affectionate remembrance of her; and begged that gentleman would write to her, and send her the amethyst ring which he then wore.’ He was buried on the day following his death, the funeral service being delivered by Mr. Houtson, who placed over his grave the following inscription:—​‘Here lie the remains of G. Belzoni, Esq., who was attacked with a dysentery at Benim, on the 26th of November, on his way to Houssa and Timbuctoo, and died at Gato, on the 3d of December, 1823. The gentleman who placed this inscription over the grave of this intrepid and enterprising traveler, hopes that every European, visiting this spot, will cause the ground to be cleared, and the fence around it put in repair, if necessary.’

The character of Belzoni was of an intrepid and enterprising nature; and he possessed a spirit of perseverance, in the midst of the many difficulties and dangers which surrounded him, that would have turned most men from their object. His person was as well-favored as it was tall and powerful; and his countenance was handsome and intelligent. He was accompanied by his wife in all his expeditions, except the last: she was, for a woman, as prodigious in size and strength as Belzoni was for a man; and proved of much assistance to him in the course of his researches in Egypt. The travels of Belzoni are the most interesting ever recorded; the account of them is written by himself, choosing, as he says in his preface, to tell in his own way his events and discoveries; being more solicitour about the accuracy of the facts than the manner of relating them. His narrative, however, although occasionally confused, from an over-earnestness to convey to the reader’s mind an adequate idea of the difficulties encountered by the author, is written in a pure and unostentatious style, and in a tone which occasionally approaches to the poetic and sublime. Nor is his diction inelegant; and, notwithstanding his want of a classical education, he displays, in his work, a very extensive knowledge of ancient history, and particularly of the classical traditions respecting Thebes and other celebrated places of Egypt.

George Forster, born some time about the year 1750, went out as a writer in the service of the East India Company to Madras, whence, in 1782, he set out on his return to England, by way of Persia and Russia. Embarking on the Ganges, towards the latter end of June, he proceeded through Rajmahal, Monghee, and Patna, to Benares, where he spent three months in familiarity with the Hindoos, and in endeavoring to discover the origin of the Brahmin theology. After making an excursion to the fort of Biggighur, and assuming, for safety, a Georgian name, he proceeded through the Delhi country to Najebabad, where he represented himself as a Turkish merchant, and joined a kafila going to Cashmere. On the 6th of March, he crossed the river Jumma; and, on the 20th, arrived at a frontier town of the Punjaub, or Five Rivers, whence, after a rest of three days, he left the caravan; and in company with his servants, and an other Cashmerian, passed through the respective armies of two rajahs at war with each other; and, about the middle of April, reached Jummoo. Leaving this wealthy and commercial city, he set out, on foot, towards Cashmere, which, after a fatiguing journey of ten days, he approached, on the 26th, at a time, he observes, ‘when the trees, the apple, the pear, the peach, the apricot, the cherry, and mulberry, bore a variegated load of blossoms. The clusters also of red and white roses,’ he continues, ‘with an infinite class of flowering shrubs, presented a view so gaily decked, that no extraordinary warmth of imagination was required to fancy that I stood, at least, on a province of fairy land.’

Whilst residing at Cashmere, he was declared, by a Georgian who noticed the flatness of his head, to be a Christian, but threatening his detector with the confiscation of an estate he found him to possess at Benares, in the event of his discovering him, he escaped exposure, and, immediately afterwards, solicited his passport, and left the city. On the 10th of July, he crossed the Indus, about twenty miles above the town of Altack, and, on the following day, passed the Kabul river to Akorah; whence, after a journey, in which he was nearly discovering his true religion, and a few transient dangers, he proceeded to Kabul, which he reached on the 2d of August. A few days after his arrival, he was attacked by a malignant fever, which appeared on his body in bright blue spots, and left him scarcely strength to move for some time after his recovery. Having hired one side of a camel, where he was placed in a pannier, he set out for Kandahar; in the course of his journey whither he was much annoyed by the insults and reviling of the whole kafila, in consequence of his no longer wearing the Mohammedan disguise, which, consequently, on his arrival at Herat, he thought it prudent again to assume. Here he joined another kafila, about to proceed to Tursheez, and obtained great respect the whole way, by representing himself as a pilgrim going to visit the shrine of Meshed. On the 28th of December, he left Tursheez, with a body of pilgrims proceeding to Mesanderan, whence he journeyed to Mushedsir on the Caspian sea; embarked at that city for Baku, shaved off his beard, which had grown to an enormous thickness, and sailed to Astrachan, where he arrived in the beginning of 1784, and, in the following July, landed in England.

Immediately on his arrival he began to put his manuscripts in form for the press, and in 1786, published, in London, his Sketches of the Mythology and Manners of the Hindoos. Returning some time after this to India, he published, at Calcutta, in 1790, the first volume of his travels, under the title of A Journey from Bengal to England, and was just about to print a second, when he died at Nagpoor, whither he had been sent on an embassy, some time in the year 1792. In 1798, a complete edition of his travels was published in two quarto volumes, but so negligently edited, that it has been doubted whether the second volume was compiled from the manuscripts of Forster, of whom no account was given, nor of the manner in which his papers were obtained. The work, though not gaining the reputation it deserved, received great commendation from the literary world, and was translated into German by Meineis, and into French, with the addition of notes and two maps, by Langlès, who has written a short memoir of Forster, in the Biographie Universelle.

Few travels have been more adventurous and hazardous than those of Forster; yet the gay and spirited manner in which the account of them is written, gives no indication of any apprehension on the part of the author, who seems to have been as much at home in the deserts of Khorasan, as on the banks of the Thames. Indeed, had he not preserved, during his travels, the unreserved, unsuspicious, and familiar manner which his disguise as a Mohammedan rendered necessary, he would neither have had so good an opportunity of seeing the manners and dispositions of his infidel associates, nor have lived, perhaps, to relate them.

This distinguished traveler and antiquarian, son of the Rev. Edward Clarke, was born at Willingdon, in the county of Sussex, on the 5th of June 1769. Whilst very young, he gave proofs of a roving disposition, and of a fondness for natural history and chemistry, and many amusing anecdotes are related of his conduct under the influence of these predilections. He received the rudiments of education at an academy in the village of Uckfield; and, in 1779, was sent to the grammar school at Tunbridge, then under the superintendence of the celebrated Vicessimus Knox. Here he made but little classical progress, but his fondness for books was evinced by his habit of reading late at night, when all his schoolfellows were asleep, for which purpose he spent great part of his pocket-money in purchasing candles. In 1786, shortly after which his father died, he entered Jesus College, Cambridge, where he obtained the situation of chapel clerk, to the duties of which office he was scrupulously attentive, but distinguished himself in no branch of university learning, excepting that of English declamation. He devoted himself, however, with great assiduity to his self-selected studies, which consisted of history, antiquity, and every variety of learning comprehended under the term of belles lettres. Natural history, and particularly mineralogy, also occupied great part of his time; and he evinced a capacity for scientific pursuits, by the construction of a large balloon at Oxford, and of an orrery at home, for the purpose of delivering lectures to his sister, his only auditor. His sole means of support at this time were derived from an income of about £96 per annum, the source of which was a Rustat scholarship, and his exhibition from Tunbridge. Thus situated, and having made a vow to accept no pecuniary assistance from his mother, whose income was extremely small, he determined to exert himself, and accordingly, as the time approached for his examination, he, for the first time, entered upon a regular course of study, and on proceeding to his degree, in January 1790, he obtained the mathematical honor of a junior optime, which, though it did not confer a high distinction, enabled the college, with some show of justice, to elect him afterwards to a fellowship. In the following April, on the recommendation of the Bishop of Gloucester, he became tutor to the Honorable Henry Tufton, nephew of the Duke of Dorset, with whom he made the tour of Great Britain; and, on his return, published an account of it, but the work is by no means on a level with his subsequent performances.

In 1791, he went with his pupil to Calais; and, in the following year, he obtained an engagement to accompany Lord Berwick on a tour to Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. ‘He was now,’ says Mr. St. John, one of his biographers, ‘in the position for which nature had originally designed him.’ ‘An unbounded love of travel,’ are the words of Clarke himself, ‘influenced me at a very early period of my life. It was conceived in infancy, and I shall carry it with me to the grave. When I reflect upon the speculations of my youth, I am at a loss to account for a passion, which, predominating over every motive of interest, and every tie of affection, urges me to press forward, and to pursue inquiry, even in the bosom of the ocean and the desert. Sometimes, in the dreams of fancy, I am weak enough to imagine that the map of the world was painted in the awning of my cradle, and that my nurse chaunted the wanderings of pilgrims in her legendary lullabies.’ He remained abroad about two years, and on his return, became tutor, successively, to Sir Thomas Mostyn, and to two sons of the present Marquis of Anglesey. In 1798, having previously taken his degree of M. A., he resumed his residence at Cambridge; and, in the following year, set out with his pupil and friend, Mr. Cripps, on a tour through Denmark, Sweden, Lapland, Finland, Russia, Tartary, Circassia, Asia Minor, Syria, Palestine, Greece, and Turkey. Having arrived at the gulf of Bothnia, Clarke declared he would not return until he should have ‘snuffed the polar air,’ and he accordingly proceeded as far as Enontakis, in latitude 68 deg. 30 min. 30 sec. north: beyond which, illness prevented him from venturing.

On the 26th of January 1800, he arrived at Petersburg, whence he continued his course to Moscow, and Taganrog on the sea of Azoff; and, on his reaching Achmedshid, in the Crimea, he passed some time with his pupil in the house of Professor Pallas. He next visited Constantinople, where he was employed in searching for, and examining, Greek medals; and, among other curiosities of the Turkish capital, he contrived to enter the seraglio, ‘where,’ he says, ‘no Frank had before set his foot.’ Hence he made an excursion to the Troad, at the prospect of beholding which, he had previously said in a letter to a friend, ‘Tears of joy stream from my eyes while I write.’ Egypt and Syria next claimed his attention; and whilst near the lake of Genesareth, he took particular observation of the Druzes, whom he describes as ‘the most extraordinary people on earth,’ and whose custom of prostrating themselves weekly before the molten calf, he observes, ‘is exactly that worship at which Moses was so incensed in descending from Mount Sinai.’

In 1801, he returned to Egypt, and whilst in that country, a dispute arising between the French and English generals respecting the literary treasures collected by the former, he was deputed by General Hutchinson to point out those most worthy of being conveyed to England, which country is indebted to him, amongst other things, for the acquisition of the famous sarcophagus of Alexander the Great. From Europe he proceeded to Greece, where his enthusiasm seems to have reached its highest stretch. ‘It is necessary,’ he exclaims, ‘to forget all that has preceded—​all the travels of my life—​all I ever imagined—​all I ever saw! Asia, Egypt, the Isles, Italy, the Alps—​Whatever you will! Greece surpasses all! Stupendous in its ruins!—​awful in its mountains,—​captivating in its vales,—​bewitching in its climate. Nothing ever equaled it—​no pen can describe it—​no pencil can portray it!’

Our traveler returned to Cambridge in 1802, when, in consequence of his presents to the university, of which the principal was a Grecian statue of Ceres, he was presented with the degree of LL. D. It does not appear at what time he took orders, but in 1806, in which year he married Angelica, daughter of Sir William Beaumaris Rush, he succeeded to the college living of Harlton, in Cambridgeshire; and shortly afterwards to the vicarage of All Saints, Cambridge, where he officiated with great popularity, and upon which he bestowed an altar-piece, after the Grecian model. In the year last-mentioned, he commenced a course of lectures on mineralogy, the excellence of which induced the university, in 1808, to found a professorship for the encouragement of that branch of learning, when he was unanimously elected to the chair. About the same time he received £1,000 from the curators of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, for the manuscripts he had collected during his travels, including the famous one known as the Patmos Plato, to which Professor Porson assigned a very high antiquity. In 1810, the first volume of his travels appeared; and was succeeded, at subsequent periods, by five others. The publication of them produced him a sum of £6595; and by no means a more than adequate one, when it is considered that the work occupied five thousand pages of quarto letter-press; a task, under which, he says, ‘I should have sunk, had I not been blessed with double the share of spirits which commonly belong to sedentary men.’ Yet amidst all this toil and multifarious employment, he pursued the study of chemistry both with zeal and success, as appears in one of his letters to a friend, in September, 1816, in which he says, ‘I sacrificed the whole month of August to chemistry. Oh, how I did work! It was delightful play to me; and I stuck to it, day and night. At last, having blown off both my eye-brows and eye-lashes, and nearly blown out both my eyes, I ended with a bang that shook all the houses round my lecture-room. The Cambridge paper has told you the result of all this alchemy, for I have actually decomposed the earths, and attained them in a metallic form.’ The death of this accomplished traveler took place at the residence of his father-in-law, on the 9th of March, 1822, and he was buried on the 18th, in the chapel of Jesus College, Cambridge, with academic solemnities.

For ardent enterprise, energy of purpose, industry of research, and extent and variety of observation, few travelers are to be compared with Dr. Clarke. His works have, on this account, become more popular than any other of a similar nature, though containing an account of countries both before and since visited and described. They would certainly bear abridgement; but it would require a most skillful hand to select from pages where few paragraphs appear worthy of rejection, if of curtailment. Although he expresses himself with enthusiasm, and many of his reflections are hastily and inconsiderately formed, his style is chaste and clear, and he details the most curious facts with a simplicity incompatible with exaggeration. In speaking of the second volume, Lord Byron says, in a letter to the author, ‘in tracing some of my old paths, adorned by you so beautifully, I receive double delight. How much you have traversed! I must resume my seven-leagued boots, and journey to Palestine, which your description mortifies me not to have seen, more than ever.’

A peculiar feature in the character of Dr. Clarke, is the rapidity with which he passed from one pursuit to another. ‘I have lived to know,’ he says in a letter to Dr. D’Oyley, ‘that the great secret of human happiness is this:—​never suffer your energies to stagnate. The old adage,’ he adds, ‘of “too many irons in the fire,” conveys an abominable lie. You cannot have too many; poker, tongs, and all—​keep them all going.’ ‘His ardor for knowledge,’ says his biographer, the Rev. Mr. Otter, ‘not unaptly called by his old tutor, literary heroism, was one of the most zealous, most sustained, and most enduring principles of action that ever animated a human breast.’ As a preacher, his biographer speaks of ‘the sublimity and excellence of his discourses,’ and says that his ardor in the pursuit of science was ‘softened by moral and social views.’ In private life he was amiable and benevolent; and, to conversation equally interesting and intelligent, joined the most kind and captivating manners. He was survived by five sons and two daughters.

In addition to his Travels, Dr. Clarke was the author of Testimony of different Authors respecting the Colossal Statue of Ceres; The Tomb of Alexander; Description of the Greek Marbles brought from the Shores of the Euxine, Archipelago, and Mediterranean; besides some letters and pamphlets, on subjects relating to science and antiquity.

Richard Pocoke was born at Southampton, some time in the year 1704. After having received a classical education, and acquired a knowledge of several oriental languages, he, in August, 1733–4, about which time he took the degree of LL. D., visited France and Italy; and in 1736, he set out on an expedition to the east. He reached Alexandria in September, 1737, and proceeded thence to Rosetta, where he visited Cosmas, the Greek patriarch, and observed the veneration of the people for ‘two of those naked saints, who are commonly natural fools, and are held in great esteem in Egypt.’ On the 11th of November, he reached Cairo, when he took great pains in ascertaining the modern condition of the country, and the customs of the people, with every description of whom he associated and conversed. After descending the well of Joseph, visiting and examining the pyramids near Cairo and Saccara, and endeavoring to discover the site of ancient Memphis, which in accordance with Bruce and others, he places at Metrahenny, he made an excursion to Faiume, the Fake Mœris, and ancient Arsinoe; in which province he discovered, at Baiamont, the ruins of two pyramids; where, he observes, ‘I saw the people sifting the sand in order to find seals and medals, there being no part in all the east where the former are found in such great abundance.’ About two miles distant from Lake Mœris, he explored the remains of the Temple of the Labyrinth, a building which once contained three thousand rooms, ‘contrived in such a manner that no stranger could find his way out;’ and he relates a tradition, prevalent among the inhabitants near the lake, of King Caroon, ‘who had keys to his treasures that loaded two hundred camels.’ ‘One would imagine from this,’ he observes, ‘that the fable of Charon might have its rise here, and that this name might be the title of the chief person who had the care of the labyrinth and of the sepulchres in and about it.’

Mr. Pococke embarked in the beginning of December, for Upper Egypt; and, on the 9th of January, 1738, reached Dendera, where he discovered the remains of all the ancient buildings choked with ashes, and the inhabitants of the Arabs fixed on the Temple of Athor-Aphrodite, or the Egyptian Venus. He then visited the ruins of Thebes, Elephantina, Philoe, and the cataracts; and returning to Cairo, the latter end of February, prepared for an excursion to Mount Sinai; but a war just breaking out between the monks and Arabs in that part, he changed his course, and, sailing down the Nile to Damietta, arrived at Jaffa on the 14th of March. Proceeding immediately to Jerusalem, he explored every spot worthy of notice in that city; and his topographical observations have removed much obscurity respecting several parts of it. After making an excursion to Jericho and Jordan, he proceeded along the brook of Kedron to the Dead Sea, where he bathed, in order to ascertain the truth of Pliny’s assertion that no living bodies would sink in it. ‘I stayed in it,’ says Mr. Pococke, ‘near a quarter of an hour, and found I could lay on it in any posture without motion and without sinking; it bore me up in such a manner, that when I struck in swimming, my legs were above the water, and I found it difficult to recover my feet.’ His face was covered with a crust of salt on coming out of the lake, and he describes the water as having the effect of constringing his mouth, in the same manner as strong alumn juice. In May, he returned to Jaffa, whence he sailed to Acra, and visited the northern parts of Palestine and Galilee, particularly Mounts Carmel and Tabor, Cana, Nazareth, the lake of Tiberias, and Mount Hermon; whence he proceeded towards the sea, and sailed to Tyre, Sidon, and Mount Lebanon. He next explored Balbec and its magnificent temple; proceeded to Damascus, Horus, and Aleppo; and after crossing the Euphrates to Orfah, continued his route through Antioch and Scanderoon to Tripoli, where on the 25th of October, he embarked for Cyprus. After passing some time in this island, he returned to Egypt; visited Mount Sinai; followed the track of the Israelites through the wilderness; embarked at Alexandria for Crete; ascended Mount Ida, and continued his course to Smyrna and Constantinople. He then visited the principal cities of Greece, and returned to England in 1741; two years after which, he published, in one folio volume, an account of his travels, with maps and plates, under the title of A Description of the East, and some other Countries, which was succeeded by two other volumes of the same size.

Mr. Pococke, on his return to England, was spoken of with great reputation through Europe; and having taken orders, was made, in 1756, Archdeacon of Ossory; in 1765, Bishop of Elphin; in the July of the same year, Bishop of Meath; and died of apoplexy in the following month of September.

The following description of the route from England to India was drawn up by Dr. Buist, of the Bombay Times:

The only way, not many years ago, of reaching India from England, was by sailing vessels, which, touching at St. Helena or the Cape of Good Hope, made the voyage in about four months. Now, the journey is usually performed partly by sea, and partly by land, in from thirty-five to forty days. This overland journey, as it is called, admits of variation. Some travel across France to Marseilles, and then proceed by a steamer to Alexandria; and this is undoubtedly the quickest way of reaching Egypt, through which it is necessary to pass. The greater number of travelers, however, prefer proceeding by steamer from Southampton direct to Alexandria, because this saves much fatigue, shifting of luggage, and also some expenses.

Having spent a few months in England in the latter part of 1845, it became necessary for me to decide on returning to my official duties in Bombay. Of the different modes of making the journey, I preferred that by steam vessel from Southampton. Occupied till the last moment with business in London, I did not find it possible to leave town till the morning of the 3d of December. Packing having been got through rapidly enough, I found myself on my way to the South-Western Railway station, at half-past six—​an unpleasant time to start on a long journey, but travelers learn to accommodate themselves to all sorts of inconveniences. The distance from London to Southampton was traversed in little more than three hours. I found various friends and acquaintances about to be my companions on the journey to India, and a more pleasant and agreeable party than that turned out to be which left Southampton in the Tagus, on the 3d of December, no one need desire to travel with.

It is sad to witness the parting of relatives with those about to leave for India; doubly sad to those who know the sickness, the suffering, the sorrow, and the disappointment too often awaiting the young who quit home with visions of the East flitting before them in their brightest hues. The looked-for return—​the bright future—​the hopes of happy meetings—​all how rarely realised!

We quitted our moorings at three o’clock P. M., and lost sight of England in the darkness while yet very close to it. We steered down the Channel during night. Next day the weather was thick, and the land invisible. The Bay of Biscay, which opens after passing Ushant, has, by means of steam, been divested of half its terrors.

We sighted Cape Finisterre on the morning of the 7th—​the first land we had seen since leaving Southampton. We continued to make good progress, though latterly we had had a rough wind and heavy sea to contend with.

The vessel, in general, approaches tolerably near to the Cape. The outlines of the landscape are bold, varied, and beautiful; but a heavy swell, which commonly rolls in, is apt to interfere with the voyager’s contemplations.

From this on running down the coast of Portugal, the steamer on most occasions keeps pretty close in-shore, so that the land is for the most part visible. The first places of note that present themselves are Oporto and Vigo Bay. The appearance presented here by the mainland is exceedingly picturesque. The coast seems rocky and precipitous, jagged and irregular. There are lighthouses on certain small islands, and on more than one of the headlands; and white-walled dwellings and villages everywhere present themselves.

The heights of Torres Vedras, close on shore, present nothing to the eye that is marvellous or attractive, though rich in the most striking historical associations. The magnificent pile at Mafra is generally distinctly visible without the aid of a telescope. It is of enormous extent, containing a palace, convent, and superb church. The lines of Byron here recur to remembrance:—

The ridge, on the highest pinnacle of which the convent of our Lady of the Rock is situated, is wild, rugged, and precipitous, ascending to an elevation of about two thousand five hundred feet. A low cliff skirts the sea-shore, and singular masses, apparently of drift sand, make their appearance, stretching for some miles along and inland.

A very picturesque appearance is often presented by the fishing-boats when the breeze is fresh. They have a drag-net attached to the extreme end of a long outrigger, stretching some thirty or forty feet beyond the vessel, and hundreds of sea-birds follow the net, with the view, apparently, of picking up any stray fish they can extract from it.

The Rock of Lisbon, a huge, unshapely, but striking mass, indicates the approach to the Tagus. The river opens up magnificently from the sea. The spires and lofty buildings of Lisbon are distinctly visible, with the vessels at anchor off the quay. Cape Espartelle, a remarkable headland, with a lighthouse upon its extremity, becomes visible a little to the south of the debouchure of the Tagus. The cliff is obliquely stratified, and marked like those of Alum bay, Isle of Wight. The land now recedes, and is in a considerable measure lost sight of, till, rounding close in upon cape St. Vincent, the scene of the celebrated engagement in 1797, the bay of Cadiz is entered. In crossing this bay, land is for some time lost sight of. It becomes visible again off cape Trafalgar; but this celebrated headland it was our misfortune to pass in the dark.

The next place of importance reached by the steamer is Gibraltar, where we quit the Atlantic ocean, and enter the Mediteranean. The rock of Gibraltar first comes into view about ten miles off. As the bay is approached, the suddenness of the change in the color of the water, from bright deep blue to green, as the soundings decrease at once from twenty-four to sixteen fathoms, strikes the voyager. The transition is instantaneous, without any intermediate hue or shading. Rounding the point Carnero, and breasting Europa point, you find yourself at once within a beautiful sheltered and spacious recess, some six miles across and ten in depth, with British men-of-war, steamers, and merchant-ships of every nation at anchor. The appearance of the rock of Gibraltar, with respect to its known military strength, generally disappoints the stranger. The most formidable of the batteries are either concealed in mysterious galleries in the bosom of the rock itself, half-way up, or lie so close on the line of the sea, as to be lost sight of amongst the hulls of the vessels around. The promontory consists of a vast rock, rising from twelve hundred to fourteen hundred feet above the sea; it is about three miles in length, and from one-half to three-quarters of a mile in width, and is joined to the mainland by a low sandy isthmus, about a mile and a half in length. On the north side, fronting the isthmus, the rock is almost perpendicular, the east and south sides are also steep and rugged; but on the west side it slopes downward to a fine bay, nine miles long by four and a half miles broad. On this slope lies the town, containing a mixed population of sixteen thousand, and above rise the principal ramparts of the rocky fortress, which is generally garrisoned by from three to four thousand troops. The ordnance consists of more than seven hundred cannons fit for service.

Gibraltar derives its name from Tarif, a Moorish general, by whom it was taken from the Spaniards in 711—​Gibel Tarif, the Mountain of Tarif. It remained in the hands of the Moors till the beginning of the fourteenth century, when it was recovered by the Spaniards. It was retaken by the Moors in 1333. In 1462 it finally fell into the hands of the Christians, after having been possessed by their adversaries for seven hundred and forty-eight years. On the 24th of July, 1704, it was captured by the English, who fell on it suddenly, and stormed it—​the garrison amounting to no more than one hundred and fifty men, the batteries mounting one hundred guns. From this time till nearly the end of the century, numberless attempts to wrest it from them have been made by the French and Spaniards, but in vain. During the late war, it seemed to be considered idle to attempt to disturb them.

The town of Algesiras, a place of considerable importance, and remarkable as that at which the Moors first landed in Spain, lies across the bay about five and a half miles off, while the village of St. Roque, at the upper end of the bay, is conspicuous on the slope. The high blue mountains of Granada fill up the background.

The winter climate of Gibraltar is extremely delightful. In December, the temperature varies from 60 to 75 degrees, clouds shading the piercing rays of the sun. In summer, it is occasionally extremely hot, especially when the wind blows from the African shore. The appearance presented by Gibraltar, viewed from the harbor, is peculiarly striking after nightfall. The numberless lights, seen in all their brightness through the open windows, look as if issuing from apertures admitting to some bright cave or furnace in the centre of the rock, whose huge black mass towers on high, the houses in the town being indistinguishable in the darkness. In summer, the surface of the sea is occasionally so closely covered with luminous particles, as to seem sheeted in phosphorus. The slightest ripple increases the intensity of the light, and the dolphins flash through the water, literally ‘moving in light of their own making.’ In winter, this in a great measure disappears, the luminosity being confined to a few bright masses which sweep by the ship. I have often taken up bucketsful of water brilliant with luminous particles when stirred, but though I have tried the experiment in a hundred different ways, I have never been so fortunate as to get a sight of the zoophyte or animalculæ by which this is given forth, either with the naked eye or glass.

We landed at Gibraltar at noon, and embarked about five o’clock on the evening of the 10th. Of this time—​of which a good deal was made by the more active of our passengers—​I was unable to avail myself, being occupied in duties which I could not properly desert. Some of the party provided themselves with mules, and made an interesting excursion over the rock. The view of the African shore from Gibraltar Bay is, towards sunset, peculiarly beautiful—​the fortress of Ceuta, standing out purple and red in the setting sun, in mimic rivalry of that on the European shore. One huge mass of mountains, of the Atlas group on the African side, with the Sierras of Andalusia on the Spanish shore, ‘fill the mind with beauty’ for a long while on leaving or on approaching Gibraltar.

After staying but a few hours, our gallant vessel was again on her course. The weather, unfortunately, was not propitious. On leaving Gibraltar we encountered a heavy gale of wind, which lasted four days. The wind was westerly, and, as is usual in such circumstances, the mercury in the barometer kept rising as the gale increased. When at its height, the column stood at 30.114, and began steadily to descend as the storm abated. How useful is this instrument to the mariner—​how faithful its prognostications of storm and calm!

Pursuing our way up the Mediterranean, the vessel steers direct for Malta, by which we approach the African shore. On the 14th we were off Algiers. The bay and town, with the villas around, were plainly visible by the naked eye: we were little more than six miles off. The country adjoining appeared fertile and well-cultivated, and we could see roads, gardens, and enclosures, with fields and vineyards, all looking in good condition. Cape Faroe, and the promontory of the Seven Capes, are jagged, irregular headlands, very distinctly visible. Cape Bon was another headland which came into sight. We likewise passed within view of the dreary island of Pantellaria, which is evidently the huge tumulus of an extinct volcano. It is about thirty-six miles in circumference, and seems about three thousand feet in height. The raptured craters and streams of lava are easily traceable, with beds of loose stones hurled down the mountain’s side during some of its fiercer explosions. A large mass of cloud, which might readily be mistaken for the smoke of smouldering fires, almost constantly rests on the summit of the mountain. There is a considerable town, of the same name with the island, near the sea-shore on the western slope, and vineyards and gardens appear scattered about in surprising abundance. It belongs to the king of Sicily, and is used as a penal settlement, whither the Sicilian convicts are sent.

Our coal had been so heavily taxed by the storm, which had only now abated, that we were at one time on the point of making for Tunis. The wind got round upon us, and it is astonishing how rapidly in these seas the swell goes down after a gale. Six hours after it had ceased to blow the waves were nearly smooth, and the speed of the vessel almost doubled.

We reached Malta at daybreak on the 17th of December, and proceeded to land with as little delay as possible. Had we come in an opposite direction, we should have had to perform a troublesome quarantine. The island of Malta, which now belongs to England, is sixty miles from the nearest point in Sicily, and two hundred from the African shore. It attains at one place an elevation of six hundred feet. The climate is fine and healthy, though hot in summer, and suffers occasionally from the sirocco, which blows from the south-east, and occurs chiefly in September. The mean annual temperature is 67 degrees; the variation of the yearly means from 1820 to 1840 was no more than 3 degrees; the extreme range during the year is about 24 degrees.

Malta consists entirely of calcareous rocks, with scarcely any soil, diluvium, or abraded matter. The country has rather an arid appearance, but it produces grapes in abundance, and other fruits. At a distance, the view is rendered lively by the great number of windmills perched on the heights, and employed for grinding corn. The inhabitants speak a language partly Arabic and partly Italian, the former predominating.

The port of Malta consists of two splendid harbors, separated from each other by the narrow promontory called Mount Xiberras. On this stands the capital, Valetta. Marsamuscetta is the name given to the western or quarantine harbor; the other is called Valetta, or the great Harbor. The entrance to this last is guarded on the one side by the fortress of St. Elmo, on the other by that of Ricasoli, both of remarkable strength. On Fort St. Elmo is one of the most brilliant lighthouses in the Mediterranean. The great Harbor runs away into numerous creeks and inlets. In one of these is the dockyard, victualling-yard, and arsenal, with a wet-dock just finished, which is said to have cost the government not much under a million sterling. In another is the merchant shipping wet-dock and store-yards. A number of British, American, and French ships of war are commonly at anchor in the port: one British line-of-battle ship, of the largest size, with the admiral’s flag on board, being of the number. The vast variety of forms, and diversity of appointments, of the mercantile vessels, especially of those from the Levant, present a most picturesque appearance.

It is seldom the traveler to or from the East can find leisure to examine the whole of the noble sights in or around Malta. There are abundance of excellent ‘guide-books,’ of which a supply can at all times be procured from the admirable library of Mr. Muir, for those who have leisure and inclination for such things. I shall confine myself to a short notice of those which, during my brief visit now and on a former occasion, I was able to examine.

One of the principal objects of attraction is the cathedral of St. John, the patron of the order of the famed Knights of Malta. It was built in 1580. Externally, it is a heavy-looking pile. It has a fine chime of bells, supposed to have been brought from Rhodes, and its internal decorations are rich and beautiful. The floor is mosaic marble pavement, chiefly composed of sepulchral monuments of the knights, whose figures are represented in white marble. The governor now resides in the palace of the Grand Master; it is a fine spacious building, well worthy of attention. The most striking object connected with it is the armory. It contains ten thousand stand of modern infantry arms, fit for immediate use. The most attractive portions of its contents are the arms and suits of armor of the middle ages: some of these are beautifully chased, and inlaid with gold. There is a singular piece of ordnance, an eight or ten pounder, made of a moderately strong tube of sheet-copper, covered over with coils of tarred rope. The gun was really neatly formed, and at first the singular nature of the material of which it was made was not apparent. It seems to have been burst in firing. No great wonder that it should. The library is said, at the time of the expulsion of the knights, to have contained seventy thousand volumes. There are in the palace tables, slabs, vases, and ornaments of various kinds, cut from the marble of Valetta.

The fortifications of Malta are most extensive and intricate; they are connected with the harbors; and on looking at their powers of defense, the mind sinks under the conviction that they are impregnable. Fort St. Elmo, the most massive of these works, contains accommodation for two thousand men. Few things are more dazzling or trying for the eyes than the rocks and buildings around Malta harbor; they are of an intense yellowish-white, without one particle of vegetation to relieve them. The waters of the harbor are singularly pure, so that the bottom is distinctly visible to the depth of thirty or forty feet. The Parlettario is the favorite resort for quarantine-bound passengers. It is a long narrow room, near the anchorage, divided by a barrier, where the gold and silver filagree-work, for which Malta is famous, is sold. Here also are shell cameos, bracelets, and brooches in mosaic, and a vast variety of bijouterie. The Maltese females are celebrated for the skill and delicacy with which they embroider in gold and colored silks, as well as for the beauty of the knit silk gloves, etc., which they manufacture; and on these a good deal of money is usually expended in the Parlettario for the benefit of friends at home.

There is a tradition that, from the time of the visit of St. Paul, Malta has been devoid of serpents or other poisonous reptiles. During our stay, we had evidence of the baselessness of the tradition—​having seen a snake killed by a soldier on duty close by his sentry-box. It was about three feet long, of a dingy brown, and had very much the hue and aspect of the common cobra. We had no means of determining whether it was poisonous or not. Close by the anchorage were several sentry stations, and the neat economical penthouse with which the soldier was protected from the sun, struck me as particularly suitable for India. It is a light wooden stand, not unlike a music stand in shape, with a movable board, which can be fixed at any degree of angle, to shelter the sentinel from the sun. Without such a protection in summer, the poor soldier would soon be broiled to death.

So many days had been lost in the storm after leaving Gibraltar, that the time allowed us at Malta was limited to eight hours. We quitted the shore at four o’clock, and were on board as speedily as possible. The Oriental Steam Navigation Company had at this time but one vessel for the Bombay mail, as it is called, which plies constantly betwixt Malta and Alexandria—​the Iberia. She is of five hundred tons burden, with engines of two hundred horse-power; a clever-going, clean, tidy little ship, with one of the most kind-hearted, attentive, and obliging captains that can be. And here I may be permitted a few passing remarks on the Tagus and Iberia, in which both my voyages were performed, belonging to the lighter class of the Oriental Steam Navigation Company’s ships. The Tagus is a fine powerful vessel, of nine hundred tons and three hundred horse-power, well kept, and a stout sea-boat. Nothing can surpass the politeness and attention of her officers; and the whole attendance has that air of thorough respectability which imparts so much confidence, and assures so much comfort, to the passengers—​contrasting strikingly in the latter with the ragamuffianly crew which, on the Suez side, constitutes the servants in the government steamers. The Oriental Company give high pay to their servants, so as to make their service eminently desirable. They keep the establishment always fully employed; the heaviest punishment that can be inflicted on either seaman or servant is dismissal, with the assurance that he will never be employed by them again. The provisioning of the vessel is let out to a provider, who receives five shillings a-day for each passenger: the officers have nothing to do with it, but to see that everything is abundant and of the best.

We had a beautiful run of six days from Malta to Alexandria; our voyage bringing us within the farther limits of the Mediterranean, known as the Levant. The time occupied from Southampton to Alexandria was about twenty days, including stoppages.

Egypt. The land around Alexandria is so low, that it does not come into sight till we are quite close to the harbor of Alexandria; but some time previously, we observe rising, as it were, out of the sea, the windmills, Pompey’s Pillar, the Lighthouse, and Cleopatra’s Needle, with several towers and minarets. From the town westward to the Lake Mareotis, for the space of nearly a mile, the sand hillocks by the shore are literally covered with windmills. I counted about two hundred. The turrets are about thirty feet high in all, the length of the arms about twenty feet, breadth of sail three to three and a half feet. They have eight vanes each; and as they are set different ways, and so move in opposite directions in different mills, when tossing their arms in the wind, they look like a set of sea-monsters sprawling about on the shore, and striving to regain their native element. They are all employed in grinding wheat; and though rugged and rude enough in appearance, are in reality simple and efficient implements. They employ a single pair of stones, made either of French bhurr or vesicular lava from Sicily. They have no sifting or bolting apparatus: the ground wheat is received from the stones in a sack, and the flower afterwards dressed through a fine gauze sieve by the hand. I visited several of them, with a view to the introduction of a similar species of machine into India.

On landing at Alexandria, the traveler now feels that he is fairly out of Europe. He may have seen a stray and stunted palm-tree or two at Gibraltar or Malta, with here and there a Turk or Arab in his native dress: these last, indeed, may be met with in the streets of London. At Alexandria all the costumes are Oriental, European residents mostly dressing like Turks. Vast groves of magnificent date-trees, far surpassing in beauty those to be met with in Western India, stretch away in all directions. Long strings of camels are employed in carrying merchandise. The women are all veiled—​covered over with that unsightly blue vestment which conceals the person and the face, leaving a pair of little holes for the eyes to peep through. Formerly it was the custom for passengers from the steam-packets to place themselves on the backs of donkeys, in order to get through the streets. This is all changed now, and the traveler finds a large and roomy van ready for his convenience.

The great square of Alexandria, where most of the European inhabitants reside, has a singularly fine and pleasing appearance, though without anything of which the architect can boast. The houses are built of whitish limestone, like Bathstone, only here the walls remain pure as when erected—​taking no tarnish from the weather. In the centre is an obelisk of the yellowish-white Cairo marble, which surmounts a fountain. The residences of the consuls around the square are each surmounted by a flag-staff, on which on gala-days the ensigns of their respective nations are displayed. The French consul has a strange-looking corkscrew staircase surrounding his, and leading to a watch-tower which overlooks the town. Many of the sign boards of the shopkeepers, especially of the apothecaries, are painted with Greek characters. Here are situated the principal hotels, and hence diverge streets to all parts of the town.

Alexandria was originally built in the form of a Madonian mantle, with its longer side to the sea. At one time it contained a population of above half a million, of which half were slaves. It boasted of four thousand palaces, four thousand baths, four hundred theatres or places of amusement, twelve thousand shops for the sale of vegetables, and forty thousand tributary Jews. Its public libraries are said to have contained seven hundred thousand volumes of books. It was accidentally destroyed by fire during the war with the Romans in Cæsar’s time. Ages of misrule under Saracens, and latterly under Turks, fell like a blight on everything in Alexandria, as on everything else in Egypt: and not until the era of Mehemet Ali, the present vigorous ruler, did the country show any symptom of revival. Since the beginning of the present century, the population of Alexandria has increased from seven thousand to seventy thousand. With its harbor and docks, it now possesses the appearance of a thriving port.

Vestiges of the ancient splendor of Alexandria are everywhere to be found. Fragments of richly-sculptured columns, of architraves, cornices, and other portions of architectural ornament, are to be seen strewed about in every quarter of the city—​broken up for lime or for paving-stones, and built into the meanest houses. Huge shafts of granite are continually disclosed, half buried amongst the rubbish or the sand; and the mounds of ruins are in many cases one mass of porphyries, granites, verde-anticoes, and marbles, brought from Upper Egypt or the south of Europe. In the course of a few hours I picked up some hundred specimens of thirty different varieties of the stones I have named, which required only a little polishing to restore to them their lustre. Mosaics, and pieces of ancient glass, are also abundant; the latter marked by that iridescent semi-metallic hue which indicates decay through extreme lapse of time. The sights of Alexandria are Pompey’s Pillar, Cleopatra’s Needle, the Catacombs, the pasha’s palace, and the battle-field where Abercromby fell; the Lake Mareotis, of which a distant view usually satisfies the traveler; and the canal. Pompey’s Pillar stands on an eminence about six hundred yards from the present walls of the town, close beside the road which leads from the Rosetta Gate to the Mahmoudyè Canal. The total height of the column is ninety-eight feet. The shaft, which is a single block of red granite or syenite, is nine feet eight inches in diameter, and seventy-three in length. It is now shown to have been erected by Publius, the prefect of Egypt, in honor of the Emperor Dioclesian. It probably was only put in its place when it is said to have been erected, forming most likely a portion of some of the more ancient and noble relics of Egypt. Cleopatra’s Needles are at the opposite extremity of the town: they consist of two obelisks, one prostrate and one erect, of the same material as the column. One is seventy, the other sixty-five feet high, and about seven feet in diameter at the base. They stood originally at Heliopolis, and were brought to Alexandria by one of the Cæsars. Both are covered with hieroglyphics.

The Lake of Mareotis is one of the curiosities of the neighborhood of Alexandria, and is situated a short way beyond the Rosetta Gate. This lake, which is about a hundred and fifty miles in circumference, was originally fresh-water; and being about five or six feet deep, it answered the purpose of navigation. In consequence of its connexion with the Nile being cut off, its waters were wholly dried up, or nearly so; and in this condition it was eighty or ninety years since. An entire change followed. It is divided from the sea by mounds of sand, blown up from the shore, and its bottom is several feet lower than the level of the Mediterranean. Thus exposed to the danger of submersion, it was resolved, during the siege of Alexandria in 1788, to let in upon it the waters of the ocean. It was certain to produce a wide-spread calamity; but when did the demon War stop to consider results? Four cuts were made, each of six yards in width, and ten distant from each other. The water rushed in with a fall of six feet. Two more cuts were finished next day, and the sea finally broke down the divisions. What a scene of devastation! The sea flowed in for a week. The calamity was fearful. The sites of three hundred villages were flooded, and rendered barren for ever. The bank was afterwards closed up again, and the communication with the sea cut off; but the basin of the lake being lower than the surface of the sea, and the Mediterranean here being without tide, there was no means of drawing off the salt water. It was by degrees in a great measure evaporated by the sun, leaving a vast expanse of once fertile surface covered with a dazzling snow-white sheet of salt. In this condition I examined it in June 1845. The Nile is admitted annually to it at flood, and the lake then reappears; but the returning dry season only restores the condition previously existing. Nor does there appear to be any remedy for this, until the successive depositions of silt from the river accumulate sufficiently to raise the bottom of the lake to a level with the sea—​an operation only to be effected through some vast and very indefinite lapse of time. Till then, the salt must always mingle with the fresh-water silt deposited every year. Could rice or any grain be grown on it, as in India, which flourishes even on saline grounds, the process of recovery would of course be greatly accelerated. The lake formerly communicated by a canal with a port of Old Alexandria.

In various masses of rock, composed of oölitic limestone, adjacent to the lake and near the town, are a number of curious catacombs, and other ancient works of art, including a variety of mosaics. South of the city are several high mounds, likewise interesting from the relics of ancient art found imbedded in them. The bricks used for building in Alexandria are those excavated from the ruins of the ancient city: they are quarried in abundance in all directions. They are well-formed, and excellently burnt; and so perfectly cemented together, that it is often more difficult to break the hardened mortar than the material it unites. The potter’s wheel of Alexandria is a singular one: it consists of a spindle about two feet long, turning in a socket some one and a half feet under the level of the floor, and a collar about three inches from the upper extremity. The circular disk on which the ware is thrown is of course above this last. The wheel is turned at the rate of about two revolutions a second, by a circular flange some one and a half feet in diameter just above its lower insertion. The potter sits on the floor, his legs in a small pit below the wheel, shuffling with his feet on the flange just mentioned, and so making the wheel revolve. It is certainly the most awkward-looking implement by much that I have seen for the purpose. Yet the ware turned out is good, strong, well-shaped, and is afterwards thoroughly burned in kilns.

Admission to the pasha’s palace may be procured by an order from the vakeel, or steward. It is a neat, but plain and unpretending building. The view from it is beautiful. The rooms are handsome, and well-proportioned and arranged; and the floors, of inlaid brightly-polished wood, have a very pleasing effect.

Travelers for India usually hurry through Egypt, with the view of not losing the steamboat, which is ready for them at Suez. But as there are two steamers a-month, those who have time and money to spare, may occupy themselves very delightfully in spending a fortnight on the journey. The conveyance of travelers from Alexandria to Suez is effected by the pasha, at an expense of £12. This charge includes everything save liquors and hotel bills of all kinds at Cairo, which fall on the passenger, and frequently amount to 15s., or £1. All charges of this class seem in Egypt extortionately high, and are indeed out of all proportion to tavern bills in Europe. But then it must be remembered that the whole establishments are permanently maintained, for the sake of employment, one day in fourteen; that unless when the passengers are on the way, the innkeepers are wholly idle. And now the arrangements hurry every one so fast, that they can only get some half-dozen hours of even the passengers, desiring to saddle them with the expenses incurred on their account during the interval when the house is open for the reception of guests, but when there are no guests to be received. Having arranged matters at the Transit Office, the traveler is duly informed of the hour when the vans quit the hotel, and should make the best of his time in the interval. The vans proceed to the place of embarkation, about two miles distant, on the Mahmoudyè Canal. The luggage is forwarded beforehand on camels, a carpet-bag being all that is allowed—​it is all, indeed, that is requisite—​for each individual to carry along with him.

The road to the canal leads through the great square already described, and on to the Rosetta Gate—​an old ragged fragment of the fortifications of the town. And here, to his astonishment, the traveler finds that Alexandria is being fortified, after the manner of Paris, with walls, and bastions, and ditches, and all the other contrivances of military engineership. The works are being constructed on the recommendation of the French, and under the superintendence of French engineers. A quarter of a century in time, and some millions of money, may be allowed for their completion, the miserable starving population being taxed for this useless and wanton waste. Passing onward, the road leads close to the elevation on which stands Pompey’s Pillar. Not far to the left is the battle-field where Sir Ralph Abercromby fell.

The Mahmoudyé Canal connects Alexandria with Atfèh, a navigable point on the Nile. This important public work was begun in 1819, and completed in little more than six months, having been opened on the 24th of January 1820. It is forty-eight miles in length, ninety feet across, and about eighteen feet in depth. For a long distance, the banks of the canal are ornamented on one side by neat villas, with most beautiful shrubberies and flower-gardens in front of them. The little kiosks, or summer-seats, consisting in a circle of benches, shadowed by lofty trees, almost hang over the banks. The canal is nowhere strait, and passes along a country so perfectly level, that locks are not required. One only exists at Atfèh. As many as a hundred and fifty thousand people are said to have been employed in the excavation of the canal: the inhabitants of all the villages in Lower Egypt were marched down to the stations respectively assigned to them, one month’s pay having been advanced to enable them to supply themselves with provisions. The assemblage of so enormous a multitude, which would have formed a double line from end to end of the canal, had they stood as close as possible to each other, was sure to be productive of fatal results; and accordingly twenty thousand are understood to have perished on the occasion. Provisions ran scanty, many fell victims to starvation, and pestilence swept many more away. Two-thirds of them were without tools or clothing of any kind whatever, groping up the mud, and lifting it out with their hands. The last portion of this statement appeared to myself incredible, until I had seen people engaged in cleaning out a portion of an old canal near the Lake Mareotis. They dug with their hands into the soft mud, until a portion about a cubic foot in size was detached; this was passed on to the nearest workman, and so conveyed by others to the bank. Not one vestige of implement or attire was possessed, or apparently desired by them.

The banks of the canal are sufficiently high to intercept the view of the adjoining country, so that, after passing the villas already alluded to, there is really nothing to be seen. A good sailing-boat traversed the distance in eight hours; one, tugged by horses, in ten. A small high-pressure steamer is presently employed, which goes snort, snorting along at the rate of about five miles an hour. The boats containing the passengers and luggage are towed behind. We started at half-past six, and were no less than eleven hours on the canal, reaching Atfèh on the Nile at half-past five. It has always been my fortune to pass this filthy little village late at night, or early in the morning, so as scarcely to be able to see it, and the matter did not seem entitled to excite much regret. On reaching the Nile, the traveler finds a neatly-kept and commodious steamer awaiting him—​not very roomy, but such as passengers, if not numbering more than fifty, may put up with without much discomfort. In going up the Nile, several large works for assisting the irrigation of the country are passed.

One who has examined the magnificent specimens of grain now grown in England, is exceedingly disappointed on examining that for which Egypt, for thirty centuries, has been famous. I collected many specimens in 1840: it is exceedingly prolific on the root, but not more so than grain at home thinly sown on rich soil. The stalks of the barley are seldom above eighteen or twenty inches long; each root produces from six to twenty-five stems, fifteen being about the average. There are six rows of grains or pickles on each stalk, each row containing at an average about ten grains, so that the return from the seed in from six to nine hundred. The roots are from six to fourteen inches from each other, and I do not believe that an acre of land in Egypt will yield nearly so much grain, by measure or weight, as a similar surface in England—​both under present cultivation. The barley itself, when rubbed out, would have been little short of unsaleable in average season at home, so thin, husky, and poor it was. It is trampled out of the straw by oxen, and cleared of chaff by the wind. The straw is chopped or cut up into what we in India call boosa, by an implement closely resembling a turnip-sowing harrow, drawn over it by oxen, each roller being armed with three or four circular cutters. The crop which most surprises by its abundance is tobacco, vast fields of which extend in all directions. Nor is it to be wondered at that the cultivation of this narcotic should rival in extent that of grain, or roots, or fruits for human food. In Egypt, every man who can afford it smokes at every hour of the day. The dull and watery eye, the want of energy and enterprise apparent in all, tell too plainly how the drug is doing its work. It is sad to see Englishmen reducing themselves to the level of Turks, as is too often the case, by the filthy and degrading practice of everlasting smoking. A singular variety of raft, consisting of a framework of slight sticks, buoyed up by a vast number of earthen pots, is frequently to be seen on the Nile. They appear to be chiefly employed in carrying coarse earthenware down the river.

From the moment of arrival in Egypt, we feel that we are in a country possessing many relics of the past; but this feeling cannot be said to exist in perfect force till we approach Cairo, which is the threshold of all the great marvels of ancient art. Those who have not before sailed up the Nile, watch for the first appearance of the pyramids. These become suddenly visible about forty miles below Cairo; and the cry that they are in sight, renders the spectator almost breathless with anxiety to discover them. They are seen far across the desert breaking the western horizon, and seem at this enormous distance almost as large as when looked at from Cairo. Here the desert sand has fairly drifted over the fertile soil, and is blown in masses into the river. The banks of the Nile, indeed, show that this has been an event of frequent occurrence since silt began to accumulate, alternate beds of sand and mud being visible all down a section of ten to fifteen feet of bank. The sand examined through a magnifier, is of a yellowish smoke color, sharp and angular, often of a pretty regular cubical form. It looks like the quartz portions of disintegrated granite, which it probably is.

The banks of the Nile, which have been hitherto dull and uninteresting, become exceedingly striking as we approach Boulac, which is in the vicinity of Cairo. Long lines and groups of trees skirt the left bank of the river. Amongst some half-dozen of beautiful acacias, the magnificent golden flowers of the acacia fistula stand conspicuous. The tree receives its name from the seed-pod being of the form and size of an ordinary fife: the flower is something like that of the laburnum, with each branch five or six times the size of those of the latter tree. Then come the gardens and pleasure-grounds around the palace of Shoubra. The island of Rhoda, a garden nearly altogether, divides and half fills up the river in front. The beautiful weeping-willow of Egypt—​most graceful and lovely of its loveliest of races—​is conspicuous everywhere. The long sweeping yards of the lateen-sailed boats of the Nile, sometimes not less than sixty feet in length, shoot up by the shore. Just beyond are the large cotton-mills and other works of the pasha, intruding English steam-engines, and huge chimney stalks, which, though striking enough as contrasts, seem here eminently out of place. Sweeping along the eastern horizon, at a distance of two miles, is the Citadel, with the vast city and countless minarets of Grand Cairo. On the other or right side but two objects present themselves to the eye—​the desert and the pyramids: and they are enough.

The voyage up the Nile, extending to 120 miles from Atfèh, occupied from eighteen to nineteen hours, and was brought to a close at Boulac. Here travelers disembark, and go to Cairo by vans provided on purpose. The drive to the city is by no means over a good road; but being through fields and gardens, the scene is everywhere most rich and beautiful. ‘All, save the spirit of man is divine;’ saving, it may be added, his habitations and his fleshly tenements. More wretched hovels than are the houses, more squalid wretches than are the people, cannot be conceived. Crossing various canals and gardens, and threading some beautiful avenues of trees, the traveler at length reaches the great square of Grand Cairo, and the picture presented is sufficiently striking. There is nothing in the way of building which deserves the name of fine architecture; but the houses are lofty and picturesque, and of every conceivable shape and size—​tall graceful minarets shooting up in all directions. The Hotel d’Orient the principal one in Cairo, is in the great square, and is a large and very showy building, though the establishment and style of living is somewhat too French for an Englishman’s taste. There is an excellent, though less conspicuous, English tavern close by. The area enclosed by the great square is surrounded by a very wide and deep ditch, which is filled with water during the inundation: fine rows of acacia-trees skirt it on both sides, and form a double avenue along the road which intersects it. Vast crowds of people are at all times in the neighborhood, and here almost alone in Cairo there is abundant room for observing the passers-by. It is indeed almost the only open space in this vast city, the thoroughfares of which consist of narrow lanes, hardly anywhere deserving the name of streets. The houses are so high, and the balconies above project so far, that it is often difficult to obtain a glimpse of the sky above. They are almost everywhere crowded most densely with people. Nimble donkeys, with jingling bells, trot rapidly along, threading their way with extraordinary dexterity through the multitude. Lines of huge camels, with vast burdens on their sides, bear down upon you, threatening to close up the pathway, and arrest the progress of the living current. Contrasted with all this activity and bustle, is the profound composure of the shopkeepers, who, in the richest dresses, and with long flowing beards, recline beside their wares, smoking their hookas, or long cherry-stalked, amber-mouthed pipes, as in a state of the most apathetic unconcern. I have rarely seen so large a proportion of fine-looking men as are to be found thus occupied in many of the bazaars.

We reached Cairo at eight o’clock in the morning, and were told that the first set of vans would set off for Suez at eleven, and the last at four o’clock in the afternoon. To those who propose going forward, there is little time to spare. Some of our party, however, who were active, were able to traverse the city, to inspect the palace of the pasha, and to enjoy the magnificent view from the battlements of the Citadel. They also had a little time to spend on shopping at the silk embroidery and perfumery bazaars, and to purchase some memorials of their stay; to visit the reading-rooms and museum of the Egyptian Society—​the valuable collection of Dr. Abbot being one of the richest and most interesting in Egypt.

Cairo is said to contain a population of two hundred thousand inhabitants: it stands on a plateau about forty feet above the level of the Nile, and on the edge of the Desert. The Citadel is one of the most prominent objects of attraction, and can be examined however short almost may be the traveler’s stay. It was built about the year 1171, by the Caliph Yoosef Saláh-è-deen, well known in the history of the Crusaders as ‘the Magnificent Saladin.’ A long ride through narrow, crowded, and irregular lanes, past numerous mosque of great magnitude and beauty, leads to the bottom of the steep winding ascent, at the extremity of which is the gate of the fortress. The first object of attraction which it contains is a magnificent mosque, which has now been ten years in process of construction. It is still incomplete. It consist of an open square, surrounded by a single row of thirty-five columns. In the centre of this is a superb fountain, and on the east a lofty gate leads to the inner part of the house of prayer. I do not know to what variety of architecture the building can be referred. I cannot concur with Sir Gardiner Wilkinson, that its attractions are due more to the beauty of the material of which it is constructed than to the skill displayed in the structure itself. To me it seemed in this latter respect supremely beautiful; not the less so because of the extent to which it departed from anything known to us of Greek, Roman, Gothic, or even of Indian art. The extreme richness of its decorations partake nothing of tediousness—​they are all symmetrical, tasteful, and beautiful. I do not even know that the effect is heightened by the burnished brass mouldings which surrounded the base of the capital and top of the basement of the column, though this sort of combination of metal and stone is one of the most unusual in masonry. The walls, which consist of the common building-stone of Cairo, are everywhere crusted over with a yellowish-white variegated horny-colored marble. It is brought from a considerable way across the country, having been discovered some fourteen years since at a place called Wadee Moähut, about seventy miles from the Nile, and is a travertine, or fresh-water limestone, deposited from springs. The undulations and coatings of the deposit form beautiful markings in the marble; it is unfortunately not susceptible of a very high polish, and is often defaced by small angular crevices, which, however, cease to be observable a few yards off. It is brought in large blocks from the quarry, and sawn into slices beside the building. The magnificent granite columns which formerly surrounded Joseph’s Hall are lying prostrate around. They were pulled down in 1827, to make room for the mosque, and were in all likelihood originally the fragments of some of the noble works of Egypt’s splendor in its earlier days. They are of the same material as that of which Pompey’s Pillar and Cleopatra’s Needle are composed. Just beyond the mosque is the palace and harem of the pasha—​a neat, plain building, more richly than tastefully fitted up and furnished within, but quite worthy of examination. The Mint is beyond this; and near by is Joseph’s Well, an excavation two hundred and sixty feet in depth, a winding staircase leading to the bottom. The reader must be reminded that the Joseph here referred to is not the Hebrew patriarch, though commonly imagined to be such, but the famous Sultan Saladin, by whom the works were constructed.

From the palace garden may be seen the spot where Emir Bey leaped his horse over the wall, to escape the massacre which awaited his brother Mamelukes on the 1st of March 1811. Mohammed Ali had prepared an expedition into Arabia, to chastise the Wahabees, who had robbed and murdered the pilgrims on their way to Mecca. The Mamelukes, impatient of his curtailment of their power, resolved to avenge and liberate themselves by the overthrow of his government. Their secret was badly kept, and the pasha was informed of the plot hatching against him. He pretended to disbelieve it altogether, and treated it as a slander against the Mamelukes. His preparations being completed, he invited all his courtiers and chiefs to the Citadel, to be present at the investiture of his son with authority to be exercised during his absence. The beys of the Mamelukes were received with the usual courtesy; but on their retirement, found the gates shut against them, while volleys of musketry were poured in on them from every side. Horses and riders fell in heaps. It is said that four hundred and forty were slaughtered in the court, Emir Bey alone escaping. He remembered that a heap of rubbish thrown over the wall, had accumulated to a considerable height near its base. He leaped his horse over: the animal was dashed to pieces, but the rider escaped. He found shelter in the tents of some soldiers near, and succeeded in making his way to Constantinople. He survived till within these few years. The beautiful aqueduct seen from the Citadel was originally built by Saladin the Magnificent in 1171, for the purpose of bringing water from the Nile to supply the garrison: it was renewed and enlarged in 1518.

Before requesting the reader to accompany me on the route eastward to Suez, I shall pause to describe some things which I visited and felt interested in on the occasion of my previous visit to Cairo.

The Nile—​Pyramids. Egypt, as is well known, consists of the fertile valley of the Nile, and a strip of desert on each side. The Nile, formed by streams coming out of Abyssinia on the south, is about 1500 miles in length; at certain places it forms rapids, or sloping cataracts, and at other points encloses islands, interesting for their beauty or the ruins which remain upon them. The remarkable phenomenon connected with the Nile, is its annual overflow of the banks which border it—​an event looked for with as much certainty as the daily rising of the sun. These inundations of the Nile are owing to the periodical rains which fall between the tropics. They begin in March, but have no effect upon the river until three months later. Towards the end of June it begins to rise, and continues rising at the rate of about four inches a-day, until the end of September, when it falls for about the same period of time. The towns are generally built in such a situation and manner as not to be overflowed by the inundation, and in some parts of the country there are long raised causeways, upon which the people may travel during the floods. It is only in cases of an extraordinary rise that any villages are destroyed. The inundations, instead of being viewed as a calamity, are considered a blessing, for they are the cause of inexhaustible fertility. After the waters have subsided, the earth is found covered with mud, which has been left there by the river. This mud, which is principally composed of argillaceous earth and carbonate of lime, serves to fertilize the overflowed land, and is used for manure for such places as are not sufficiently saturated by the river; it is also formed into bricks, and various vessels for domestic use. The whole valley of the Nile may be considered as an alluvial plain, formed of the washed-down mud and sand of Central Africa, and it is therefore to these inundations that Egypt owes its existence.

Notwithstanding the overflow of the Nile, the atmosphere of Egypt is extremely dry and healthful. During our winter, the climate of Egypt is delightful. The inhabitants speak with intense affection of the Nile, for to it they owe the verdure of their fields, their food, their drink, and the cotton for their clothing. In its taste the water is delicious and salubrious.

The Pyramids are situated about ten miles from Cairo, in a western direction, and consequently on the farther side of the Nile. The traveler may now have the benefit of a carriage for the journey: formely, the only conveyance was by donkeys. The road leads by Old Cairo, a decayed suburb of Cairo, at two miles’ distance, on the banks of the river. The Nile is forded or crossed in boats at the upper end of the island of Rhoda. When within a couple of miles of the end of the journey, a number of frightful-looking Bedouins commonly make a rush from a large village a little way off, as if intent on mischief. They are men anxious to be employed as guides; and they had better be employed at once, to save further annoyance.

The Pyramids scarcely appear to increase in size until you are close up to their base; then their bulk seems enormous, and the distance betwixt one and the other looks like a forenoon’s journey. They are four in number in one view—​three large, and one small—​and are usually known as the Pyramids of Gizeh. They stand on a plateau some forty feet above the plain, and are fairly within the Desert. I do not believe any one who has not visited them has a correct idea of their vast dimensions. The present base of the Great Pyramid of Cheops, as it is called, is 746 feet each way; the mass is estimated at eighty-five millions of cubic feet, and covers an area of eleven acres. Measured by the slope, its height is 611 feet, and its perpendicular height is 461 feet, being 117 feet higher than St. Paul’s, London. The age of the Pyramids is unknown, but it cannot be less than three thousand years. And what a waste of human labor in their construction! A hundred thousand men, changed every three months, for twenty years, are said by the Greek writers to have been occupied in their erection!

At a distance, the Pyramids appear to be tolerably smooth and pyramidal; but on coming close to them, they are found to have a ragged and half-ruined aspect, in consequence of the outer coating of stones and plaster having been removed. Their sides in this rough state present the appearance of a series of steps, composed of huge blocks of yellowish-white limestone. The ascent is toilsome, but I made a point of reaching the top of the Great Pyramid. The ledges of stone are uncomfortably high for a stair; and ladies meaning to ascend, should provide themselves with a footstool, which the guides could lift and hand up to them at each step. There are altogether 206 tiers of stone, from one to four feet high. At length we reached the top, which is an irregular platform, thirty-two feet square; the stones constituting the apex having been thrown down. On gaining this lofty eminence, on which there was room to move about, I felt an extraordinary exhilaration of spirits, not only from the effect of historical associations, but from the remarkable fineness of the atmosphere. The view on all sides was magnificent. One of its most striking features is the distinctness of the line which divides the fertile region from the Desert. There is no middle ground—​no debateable land, over which fertility and desolation, the sand of Sahara and the silt of the Nile, alternately hold sway. So far as the influence of the Nile extends, all is verdure; the moment the sand begins, utter waste ensues.

Having satisfied our curiosity, the party descended; but all found that coming down was a vast deal more fatiguing and dangerous than going up. However, we got to the bottom in safety; and being pretty well appetized, we adjourned to luncheon in a sort of cave close by, where victuals we had brought with us were enjoyed. It is necessary to make this provision for refreshment, because there is no house, tent, or village in the neighborhood. The Great Pyramid is not entirely solid. An entrance has been made, by which a series of labyrinthian passages and chambers have been discovered. The entrance is on the north side; but we did not feel inclined to enter; for the journey in some places requires to be performed on hands and knees. At the centre are two chambers of red granite, in one of which is a sarcophagus; and here is supposed to have slept one of the great rulers of the earth, the king of what was the greatest kingdom of the earth, the proud mortal for whom this mighty structure was raised.

The ascent of the second Pyramid is seldom attempted by visitors: it is much more difficult than that of the first, especially over that portion of the smooth granite crust which still remains about thirty feet down. It is of somewhat less magnitude than the other, but looks as large, from standing on higher ground. The third of the group is considerably smaller. The fourth I did not visit. In the neighborhood of these grand objects of antiquity lie scattered about many interesting remains. The most attractive of these is the Sphinx—​a gigantic figure, half-woman, half-lion, nearly all hewn from the solid rock, the fore-legs and part of the back only being built. There is an altar between the two paws, on which sacrifices appear to have been offered. From the lower part of the body to the top of the head, the Sphinx measures 66 feet, the recumbent portion 102, the paws 50, and the circumference of the head 100 feet. Such has been the drifting of the sands, that the whole figure is now covered except the head and a portion of the dilapidated neck.

A few miles above the Pyramids of Gizeh once stood Memphis, a city as large and flourishing as Alexandria, but now utterly destroyed, and the very ruins hardly distinguishable. Continuing the journey up the valley of the Nile, and within the distance of two hundred miles, the traveler passes the ruins of many decayed cities, now reduced to miserable villages of half-starving Arabs, but once the glory of Egypt. Among these are Arsinöe, Dendera, Thebes, Karnac, Edfou, Elephantina, and Philöe. Edfou is thus described by Mr. Stephens:—​‘At one corner of this miserable place stands one of the magnificent temples of the Nile. The propylon (or gateway), its lofty proportions enlarged by the light of the moon, was the most grand and imposing portal I saw in Egypt. From a base of nearly 100 feet in length, and 30 in breadth, it rises on each side of the gate in the form of a truncated pyramid, to the height of 100 feet, gradually narrowing, till at the top it measures 75 feet in length and 18 in breadth. Judge, then, what was the temple to which this formed merely the entrance; and this was far from being one of the large temples of Egypt. It measured, however, 440 feet in length and 220 in breadth, about equal to the whole space occupied by St. Paul’s Churchyard. Its dromos, pronaos, columns, and capitals, all correspond; and enclosing it is a high wall, still in a state of perfect preservation. I walked round it twice, and, by means of the wall erected to exclude the unhallowed gaze of the stranger, I looked down upon the interior of the temple. Built by the Egyptians for the highest uses to which a building could be dedicated—​for the worship of their gods—​it is now used by the pasha as a granary and storehouse.’

Few travelers proceed farther up the Nile than Philöe, as the journey through Nubia is less safe or agreeable than that within the Egyptian territory. Yet without a visit to the Nubian valley of the Nile, which extends to near the head branches of the river in Abyssinia, much of the ancient grandeur of this part of the world will remain unexplored. Nubia, which is at present a Turkish province, subject to the pasha of Egypt, is frequently called by the name Ethiopia—​from the black complexion of whose inhabitants the term Ethiopian came in early times to signify one who is black, or a negro. This country of Nubia, or Ethiopia, is understood by some historians to have enjoyed a degree of civilization and refinement in art at a date even earlier than Egypt; and till the present day, it possesses pyramids and other monuments of architectural skill as wonderful, in the eyes of the traveler, as those in the lower divisions of the Nile.

So much for a glance at the archaeological treasures of Egypt; let us now return to Cairo, in order to undertake an excursion which has been seldom performed.

The Petrified Forest. This extraordinary curiosity is situated eight or ten miles south from Cairo, and is reached by a journey on the back of a donkey through a rugged piece of country. The ground over which you travel is a dry gravely soil, without a particle of vegetation. Having proceeded for some miles through a rocky valley, a sudden turn to the right takes you through a low range of sand-hills, and in less than a quarter of an hour you arrive at the forest. And such a forest! Trees lying prone on the ground, and transferred into stone. The world contains nothing so wonderful as a work of nature. On every side the prostrate forest extends as far as the eye can reach. Plains and rolling hillocks of sand sweep on and on to the horizon, all strewed thickly over with fragments of fallen trees. They lie at some places so close to each other, that a sure-footed Cairo donkey can scarcely thread his way through them: at other places they are few and far between, scarcely within stone-throw of each other, as if those had been the thickets, these the openings, in the forest. The trees are nowhere round in the surface, but sharp and angular, as if split by heat into many fragments. Few pieces are more than from four to six feet in length; but a series of these may often be seen lying end to end for a space of from fifty to sixty feet, as if the tree they constituted had been sawn or broken across, the pieces remaining in their places. The aspect of the fallen trunks is like that of the half rotten bog-wood found in an Irish or a Scottish morass. In hue, they are for the most part of a lightish chesnut-brown; some of them of a dusky-white, precisely of the color of common ash or pine long exposed to the weather. Of this tint are nearly all the smaller fragments, which often lie about as if chipped off from the larger ones. There are no fangs of roots or branches connected with the stems, but there are the rudiments of both in abundance. The knots indicating where branches once had been, are often of singular beauty and distinctness; sometimes so much so, as to seem fresh torn off the stem. The whole scene is the very picture of solitude and desolation, enhanced beyond that of the ordinary Desert—​which leaves no token of ever having been more productive than it is—​inasmuch as the remains around remind you that what is now salt and barrenness must once have been fertility and verdure. The trees, as already said, are mostly on the surface; many of them, however, are half-buried, others barely show themselves above the sand. The sand itself is light colored; the nodules of stone intermixed with it are rounded; sea-shells everywhere abounding. Near the edge of the forest there are what resemble the dry beds of small-sized streams and torrents: here the little cliffs displayed are of very soft limestone, full of oyster-shells, so fresh and bright, that they seem scarcely at all affected by the weather. They are of the transparent kind, nearly flat, and scarcely thicker than common paper. Selenite here abounds, as generally over the Desert, where sea-salt prevails. It is here for the most part fibrous, the fibers being horizontal, and at right angles to the axes of the vein. I took nearly half a ton of specimens home with me; and these, like the whole of the rest of my collection, were carried free of charge both by the Egyptian Transit and Steam Navigation Company. They were afterwards distributed amongst various of our public museums.

As for the nature of the trees, they are not palms, as their branches show; nor am I aware that there is any living race nearly kindred to them. They are completely silicified, ring like cast-iron, strike fire with flint, and scratch glass. How has this transformation been effected? By no chemical process now known to man. We have nothing at all analogous to it either in the laboratory of the chemist or that of nature. There is no substance more indestructible than charcoal. Cut off from air, it resists the most intense heats known to us, and remains in the bowels of the earth unscathed for millions of years! Here the whole woody and carbonaceous matter has vanished, and its place we find silica—​the earth of flints, a substance nearly insoluble, and by itself infusible by any heat we are acquainted with. Yet so quietly and perfectly has the exchange been effected, that for every atom of charcoal that has been displaced, an atom of flint has been left behind. Textures and tissues so minute, that the help of microscopes is required for their detection—​that their delineation can only be attempted after they have been much magnified—​are changed in substance, but in substance only: the most minute and fragile of their forms remain as when the green leaves and bright blossoms drew their sustenance, and the vital fluids circulated through them. Egypt is the land of hoar antiquity; but what are the wonders of the mummy-case to this? The trees look as if they had fallen down, and been turned to stone on the ground where they grew; they look ‘like to a forest felled by mighty winds;’ they bear no marks of rolling or abrasion, such as that by which flints themselves are rounded. Yet all is sea-sand and shells everywhere; there is nothing to sustain vegetation; and whether the theory that they belong to an age previous to that of the rock in which they are occasionally imbedded, be adopted or not, it is clear that, subsequent to their assumption of their present form and condition, the ground on which they now repose sunk beneath, and rose again far above, the surface of the sea.

It is singular, considering the extent of area, and the diversity of positions in the world over which silicified trees are found exposed above ground, that so little has been written on the subject. In Trinidad, in the West Indies, they are abundant; and they prevail over a vast expanse of surface on the seaboard of New Holland. They abound on the Coromandel coast near Madras; and in Scinde are found from Sukkur to Kurrachee, on salt desert sand, resting on nummulite limestone, exactly as in Egypt.

Cairo to Suez. It has been already stated that our party arrived at Cairo on the morning of the 23d of December. Only a few hours is allowed, and every one should make his arrangements without unnecessary delay. Having arranged at the Transit Office to get all luggage, a small bag excepted, sent forward, and secured his place, the traveler may be considered ready to start. The conveyance to Suez is by vans, which start in detachments at specified hours. In hot weather, it is preferable to start from Cairo in the afternoon, so as to travel all night. By this plan he arrives at the centre sleeping-station in the morning, and after a few hours’ repose, he can again proceed, so as to reach Suez early in the following morning. Some go on direct; others stop.

The distance from Cairo to Suez is eighty-five or eighty-six miles; and as the line of route is without any towns or villages, station-houses have been erected for the accommodation of travelers, and for changing of horses. There are altogether seven station-houses, of which No. 4 from Cairo is the most commodious. Refreshments are furnished at three of the stations, and they are usually of the most sumptuous kind. The vans are of different sizes. For the greater part they are strong clumsy machines, open all around, tolerably stuffed, but without springs—​merely suspended on leathern straps. They have two wheels about five feet in diameter; that is, one-third larger than those of a common carriage. They are drawn by four horses, two being in shafts, and two before them in traces. They are, in general, not over-well trained, tempered, or conditioned; but really, on the whole, get on wonderfully well. The plan of the drivers generally is to urge them a good gallop for a mile or so, and then allow them a few minutes to rest. Including twelve hours’ repose by the way, the journey from Cairo to Suez is performed in thirty-two to thirty-six hours.

There is but little of the Suez desert covered with drift sand; it consists mainly of hard gravel, with a vast abundance of loose stones in all directions. The vans seldom adhere very regularly to any particular track, and the jolting is occasionally dreadful. In the direction of Suez, as indeed in most other directions, unless when approaching the Nile, you enter on the Desert at once. The burying-ground around the city is all in sand; and the first step beyond this, the ground is as completely barren and desolate as it can be in the heart of the Great Sahara itself. The route through might be almost traced by the skeletons and bones of camels to be seen all a long; thousands and thousands lie bleaching by the wayside. The surface of the ground is salt, and covered with rounded pebbles, chiefly the Egyptian agate, and sea-shells. Pieces of petrified wood, often of considerable magnitude, lie strewed around: and when the limestone rock shows itself above the sand and gravel, it is generally perforated by the pholas, or some other variety of marine borer. The rocks, like those near Cairo, abound in petrifactions—​beautiful specimens of crabs and stars-fishes being amongst the most abundant. Little nimble fairy-looking lizards, in color very like the surface of the ground around them, are occasionally to be seen in the Desert; also a curious variety of serpent, with two horn-like processes protruding from the forehead. There are numberless vultures and carrion crows, which feed on the dead carcases of the animals who so frequently perish on the way across. Besides these, scarcely a living thing is to be seen. Here and there are considerable quantities of the poisonous henbane, and half-way betwixt Suez and Cairo numerous bushes of the prickly acacia or camelthorn. Just beyond the centre station is what is called ‘the tree of the Desert;’ solitary acacia, about one and a half feet in diameter, and ten feet length of stem, with a large thick bushy round top. This is seen at a vast distance from each side: to the weary wayworn traveler it seems almost impossible to approach it, he riding for hours after first catching sight of it without apparently coming nearer it.

The beautiful phenomenon known to sailors as ‘looming,’ to naturalists as mirage, equally visible in extremely cold as in warm countries, is often seen in great perfection betwixt Cairo and Suez. It is occasioned by the unequal temperature and refractive powers of different strata of the atmosphere—​objects being invariably elongated or depressed, or a succession of images of them exhibited one over another. Scoresby gives drawings of images of ships and icebergs being seen by him in the arctic regions—​direct or reversed, or the one and the other alternately—​high up in the air. Pools, and lakes of water, are occasionally seen to fill up the hollows or valleys; and this is the shape the illusion most frequently assumes. Three of us together once saw so perfect a picture of a pool surrounded by lofty rocks and hills, by which there were two tall men in black fishing, that, but for the fact that we had traversed the ground before, and knew that there was no such thing in existence, no reasoning short of that which induced us to refuse the testimony of ourselves could have persuaded us that it was all deception. The fishers turned out to be a couple of crows, the rocks and trees a few stones and shrubs—​not half so many inches in reality as they seemed feet in altitude. On another occasion, the low hillocks to the south of the centre station rose into stupendous cliffs—​a noble river cleft its way through a chasm by which they were disrupted, and was received in a finely-wooded lake at their base. It seemed some three or four miles off—​the whole was occasioned by the distortion of objects not two hundred yards away. So constantly had we witnessed these exhibitions in April 1840, that the Red Sea was visible for nearly an hour before we believed it to be other than an illusion: the sight of ships and steamers was the first thing that convinced us of the reality.

The portion of the road nearest to Suez is extremely rough, and the path is covered on every side with large rounded stones; the whole forming one of the most unsightly portions of the Desert. Barren and arid as it is, it is curious to find fresh plants of the water-melon species growing here and there on the most unfruitful-looking spots. The leaves are about the tint, form, and size of those of the sweet-scented geranium. The stems trail along the ground, attaining a length of two or three feet. The fruit is about the size of a smallish apple, bright-green, and very pretty. In many places here, the sand of the Desert is in process of solidification into rock. The muriates and sulphates of the sea-salt, with which the soil is charged, seem to act on the calcareous material abounding everywhere; and the result is a carbonate of soda and sulphate of lime. The last constitutes the cementing material: it is bright and shining, in small plates or crystals, and yields readily to the finger-nail. A specimen of the rock which is the result of this, would most grievously perplex a geologist not familiar with the process by which it is formed. It consists of the sand and the sea-shells of the Desert—​the last of these, when near Suez, being all apparently perfectly recent and identical with those now in the Red Sea; of the Egyptian jaspers, which here mainly constitute the gravel of the Desert, and are themselves the remnants of an abraded conglomerate of one of the rock formations at hand, and of the oyster, nummulite, and other shells of the different varieties of tertiary limestone, everywhere presenting itself above the surrounding drift and alluvium. With these heterogeneous materials, the bones of birds and animals now existing in the country, or portions of the works of man, may occasionally mingle, and present a conglomerate made up of as many different kinds of material as can be collected together. This, it must be recollected, is a process not confined to a few limited spots: it is apparently in progress over vast expanses of surface in all parts of the Desert towards the shore of the Red Sea. Though there is no continuous rain, heavy showers occasionally fall near Suez; and in the pools formed by them, fishes, some inches long, have been found four or five miles from the sea.

When within four miles of Suez, you reach the edge of a perfectly level plain, diversified here and there by slight ridges and hillocks of sand and gravel, but the whole wearing the appearance of one of the most recent upheavals—​the Red Sea, at a geological period comparatively recent, having obviously covered a large surface now dry land. It was noon before we reached Suez, and we were to leave at three; but as I had been before disappointed in my attempts to examine the country around, I was resolved to make the most of the two hours at my disposal. I accordingly, hammer in hand, and knapsack on back, proceeded to make a geological ramble; and I need only say, was amply repaid for my trouble, as well as for the annoyance from a scorching sun. Close to Suez is the track where the Israelites crossed the Red Sea in flying into the wilderness from Egyptian bondage. Wilkinson assumes the place to have been a little above the harbor, at the camel ford, where the water then must have been much deeper than now, and where the effects of ‘a strong east wind,’ as described in Exodus, are now similar to what they seem to have been from the account given of them in Holy Writ. The extremity of the Red Sea is a few miles above the town, and thither travelers sometimes proceed to have the pleasure of placing one foot on African, the other on Arabian ground.

The entire journey through Egypt from Alexandria to Suez is usually performed in seventy-two hours; and to afford time for travelers getting forward, the steamers for India do not start for several hours later.

Suez to India. Suez is a poor, walled town, situated at the head of the Red Sea, and sustains its existence principally by the trade of the great caravans of pilgrims from Egypt in their journey to Mecca. Latterly, it has come a little into note by being made the point of embarkation for India. The pasha built a very large and handsome hotel at Suez, the only decent-looking building in the place. The water here is all highly saline: it contains a considerable quantity of pure alkali, and is well adapted for washing—​that used by Europeans for drinking is brought from the Nile. Coal is also transported across the Desert from Cairo on camels, and here costs £6 a ton.

Quitting Suez, a long pull of nearly two miles through shallows and intricate channels brings you to the roadstead, where the steamer waits your reception—​the smoking funnel and roaring steam giving note of a preparation for a start. The Gulf of Suez, which comes to a point a little way above the town, is about three miles across at the place from which the steamer starts. The distance from Suez to Aden is sixteen hundred miles due south-east; that from Aden to Bombay is nineteen hundred and sixty miles east and by north. Passengers to Calcutta are accommodated in the magnificent steamers of the Oriental Steam Navigation Company, each from twelve hundred to fifteen hundred tons burden, and four hundred to five hundred horse-power. These vessels proceed straight to Aden, this part of the route being common to both; then stretch away south-east for Ceylon, nearly at right angles to the path pursued by the Bombay vessels. The Bombay passengers are conveyed by the packets or war-steamers of the Indian navy: a portion of these are from seven hundred to seven hundred and fifty tons burden, and from two hundred and twenty to two hundred and fifty horse-power. Two very superior vessels, each of twelve hundred tons and four hundred horse-power, have lately been put on the line, and two others of still larger dimensions are now in process of construction. It was on board the Acbar, a first-rate ship, commanded by one of the most popular officers of the Indian navy, that we found ourselves on Christmas eve 1845. The traveler towards the East, who has been dragging by each remove a lengthening chain—​who has found semi-tropical Europe at Gibraltar and Malta, and fairly tasted of the Orient in Egypt—​at length finds a floating fragment of India before him at Suez. The talk becomes exclusively of Bombay: inquiries are made after old places and friends, and England is spoken of as now a distant country, not soon to be seen again. The regulations as to dress, discipline, etc., are the same in the Indian as in the royal navy; and the packets are in all respects regarded as ships of war. To the old Indian, everything looks familiar; to the visitor for the first time to the East, all seems a fragment and foretaste of what is to come. Seldom, indeed, do you find so large a variety of races assembled in so narrow a compass. The officers, engineers, and regular seamen of the ship are Englishmen, all rigged out man-of-war fashion. The pilots are Arabs, from Aden or Mocha. Their costumes are beautifully picturesque and they are for the most part highly intelligent-looking men. Then you have the sepoys of the Bombay Marine Battalion, smart, dark-olive complexioned men, in the common uniform of the English soldier. The servants of the ship are mostly Portuguese, natives of the East, dressed in jackets and trousers of white cotton, such as Europeans not in uniform usually wear in India. The butler and head-servants are generally Parsees or Mussulmen: the Hindoo is forbidden by his creed from serving where his hands might be defiled by the flesh of the sacred cow. The firemen are mostly Mohammedans, or low-caste Hindoos—​strong active fellows, who perform all the drudgery about the engine-room.

Fairly afloat on the Red Sea, there is little to attract the eye, the shores being rocky, sandy, and lifeless. If the weather be clear, we see in the distance north from Suez the towering summit of Sinai. As the traveler proceeds southwards, he begins to be interested in the changes presented by the firmament. At night the Southern Cross becomes prominent amongst the constellations, and the beautiful clouds of Magellan give nubulæ of an aspect altogether different from any he has seen before. The Great Bear is no longer seen to sweep around the Pole; the tail becomes at times altogether invisible, the four stars which constitute the quadrangle only keeping in view, and the great land-mark, so to speak, by which the tyro astronomer guides his way amongst the constellations, is for a period lost sight of. The moon and planets again shine out with unusual splendor; and the phenomena, new to the European, are presented by a night sky intensely bright without the sensation of cold being occasioned by it.

The middle channel alone is navigable for vessels of any considerable burden. Vast margins on either shore are filled up with coral to near the surface of the water. The scenes these present are often beyond description beautiful. When we went up in June 1845, the wind blew a strong breeze against us. Captain Barker, who was engaged in the survey, knew every channel and island so well, that he often took the most narrow and intricate, to enable him to keep the lee of some rocky island, and so shelter his ship from the adverse wind. From the mast-head, the track through which we navigated was of so deep and intense a blue, it was hard to believe that the waters were not colored by some dyeing substance. They looked like the liquid seen streaming from the dyer’s pot. A few ships’ length on either side, they suddenly became slightly tinted with green; a little beyond, the greenish blue became turned into a bluish green; a band of the most intense emerald green succeeded, and then swept towards the shore; the last hue the sea assumed, before breakers appeared, was a whitish green, when the coral was but a few feet beneath the surface. These colors appeared in well-defined bands—​they were not shaded, nor run into each other, as if produced by the gradual shoaling of the reef, but seemed the effect of a set of shelves, with precipices of no great elevation between. The effect of the whole was heightened by the brown and burnt hue of the rocks and islands which were constantly appearing, rising suddenly from the surface to an altitude of some scores or hundreds of feet.

Keeping straight on our course down the middle of the Red Sea, we do not approach the land till the Straits of Babel-Mandeb make their appearance. Here the sea is greatly narrowed, not only by the projections of land, but by the island of Perim. The Straits are closed in on both sides by rugged, barren, burnt-looking rocks—​the distance across being about three miles. Pushing her way through one of the channels, the steamer turned towards the left in a south-easterly direction, being now in what is called the Sea of Babel-Mandeb, which is a portion of the Indian Ocean. A series of picturesque and precipitous capes and headlands, along the coast of Arabia-Felix, on our left, came in view, and stretched away to the most prominent of them, for which we were steering—​Cape Aden.

It was near midnight when we reached Aden, and a portion only of the passengers landed. The only object of the stoppage is to take in coal. Aden is situated in latitude 12 degrees 47 minutes north: longitude 45 degrees 9 minutes east. It is a wild, barren peninsula, composed of volcanic rocks, and of no use except as a half-way house to India via the Red Sea. Within two hundred yards of the landing-place there is a hotel, kept by a Parsee. It contains a large roomy hall, in which smoking is specially forbidden, but always indulged in, with a very good verandah all round, and good bedrooms, and baths. There is a store for general merchandise behind, and a billiard-room, likely to become a common nuisance, close by. I was one of the party who went ashore to the hotel; but all attempts to sleep were vain, in consequence of the noise made by members of the party, who chose to sit up drinking and smoking! As early as three o’clock I arose, and made a most interesting little excursion to the extinct volcanoes in the neighborhood, where the garrison is situated. This leads me to speak of the manner in which the place has become a British settlement.

Aden fell into our possession in 1839. It previously belonged to the sultan of Lahege, who was little better than a common marauder, and in 1837 plundered a Madras vessel sailing under British colors, which had the misfortune to go ashore. A collision with Britain followed; and finally, after some fighting, and a stipulation by treaty to pay the sultan a few thousand dollars annually, the place was taken possession of. The population has since risen from six hundred to above ten thousand, besides the troops and their followers from India: of these there are generally three thousand in garrison. A traffic is kept up with the interior of Arabia by means of camels and asses. There is good fresh water in wells in the cantonments, but nowhere besides, which is a sore drawback in the place.

We quitted Aden about three in the afternoon, and after losing sight of land, saw nothing but the broad ocean, till the high lands on the south of Bombay made their appearance. In a few hours the vessel arrived at its destination, and I stood once more on Indian ground, with well-known faces around me. The journey altogether from Southampton had occupied from thirty-nine to forty days, which is about the average allowance of time. My expenses may be set down at £120. Fortunately, no accident had occurred on the journey; neither, as is usually the case, was there any interruption in the arrangements established for the benefit of travelers. All went on smoothly and agreeably; and every year promises to add new accommodations and new pleasures to the excursion. Such is the story of what is now a very unromantic affair—​an overland journey to India.

[1] Some years ago, a traveler, Mr. G. A. Hoskins, visited the site of this capital state of ancient Ethiopia, an island, if it may be so called, about 300 miles long, enclosed within two forking branches of the Nile. He found in it several distinct groups of magnificent pyramidal structures. Of one ruin he says—​‘Never were my feelings more ardently excited than in approaching, after so tedious a journey, to this magnificent necropolis. The appearance of the pyramids in the distance announced their importance; but I was gratified beyond my most sanguine expectations when I found myself in the midst of them. The pyramids of Gizeh are magnificent, wonderful from their stupendous magnitude; but for picturesque effect and elegance of architectural design, I infinitely prefer those of Meroe. I expected to find few such remains here, and certainly nothing so imposing, so interesting, as these sepulchres, doubtless of the kings and queens of Ethiopia. I stood for some time lost in admiration. This, then, was the necropolis, or city of the dead! But where was the city itself, Meroe, its temples and palaces? A large space, about 2000 feet in length, and the same distance from the river, strewed with burnt brick and with some fragments of walls, and stones, similar to those used in the erection of the pyramids, formed, doubtless, part of that celebrated site. The idea that this is the exact situation of the city is strengthened by the remark of Strabo, that the walls of the habitations were built of bricks. These indicate, without doubt, the site of that cradle of the arts which distinguish a civilized from a barbarous society. Of the birthplace of the arts and sciences, the wild natives of the adjacent villages have made a miserable burying-place; of the city of the learned—​“its cloud-capt towers,” its “gorgeous palaces,” its “solemn temples”—​there is “left not a rack behind.” The sepulchres alone of her departed kings have fulfilled their destination of surviving the habitations which their philosophy taught them to consider but as inns, and are now fast mouldering into dust. Scarcely a trace of a palace or a temple is to be seen.’

[2] When Alexander the Great was in Babylon, the Chaldæans told him their order had begun their astronomical observations 400,000 years before he was born.

[3] It may be necessary to remind our readers here that the annual number of public executions in Howard’s time was fearfully large.

[4] Of the famous ‘Black Assize’ at Oxford, mentioned in the text as an instance of the malignity of the jail fever, the following is the account given by the chronicler Stowe:—​‘The 4th, 5th, and 6th days of July, 1577, were holden the assizes at Oxford, where was arraigned and condemned one Rowland Jenkes for his seditious tongue; at which time there arose such a damp, that almost all were smothered. Very few escaped that were not taken at that instant. The jurors died presently. Shortly after died Sir Robert Bell, lord chief baron; Sir Robert D’Olie, Sir William Babington, Mr. Weneman, Mr. D’Olie, high sheriff; Mr. Davers, Mr. Harcourt, Mr. Kirle, Mr. Phetplace, etc. There died in Oxford three hundred persons; and sickened there, but died in other places, two hundred and odd, from the 6th of July to the 12th of August, after which day died not one of that sickness, for one of them infected not another, nor any woman or child died thereof.’ An occurrence so horrible gave rise of course to much speculation at the time, and various strange explanations were had recourse to, of which the following will serve as a specimen:—​‘Rowland Jenkes,’ says one anonymous writer, ‘being imprisoned for treasonable words spoken against the queen, and being a popish recusant, had notwithstanding, during the time of his restraint, liberty sometimes to walk abroad with a keeper; and one day he came to an apothecary and showed him a recipe which he desired him to make up; but the apothecary, upon the view of it, told him that it was a strong and dangerous recipe, and required some time to prepare it, but also asked him to what use he would apply it. He answered, to kill the rats that, since his imprisonment, spoiled his books; so, being satisfied, he promised to make it ready; after a time he cometh to know if it was ready; but the apothecary said the ingredients were so hard to procure, that he had not done it, and so gave him the recipe again, of which he had taken a copy, which mine author had there precisely written down, but did seem so horribly, poisonous, that I cut it forth, lest it might fall into the hands of wicked persons. But after, it seems, he had got it prepared, and against the day of his trial had made a week or wick of it [for so is the word—​that is, so fitted, that, like a candle, it might be fired], which, as soon as ever he was condemned, he lighted, having provided himself with a tinder-box and steel to strike fire. And whosoever should know the ingredients of that wick or candle, and the manner of the composition, will easily be persuaded of the virulency and venomous effects of it.’ This explanation seems to have been adapted to the public appetite for the wonderful; at all events, being anonymous, it is to be regarded as nothing more than a curiosity. The generally received explanation was, that the disease arose from infection brought into court by the prisoners; and the opinion, sanctioned by lord Bacon, that this infection was a fever bred by the filth of the jail, was but too surely confirmed by subsequent instances of a precisely similar nature.

This book was written in a period when many words had not become standardized in their spelling. Titles of individuals were not always spelled with a capital letter. Proper nouns may have multiple spelling variations; inconsistent use of hyphens, diacriticals, and small capitals were not changed. Dialect, obsolete words, spelling errors and incorrect dates were not changed. Words missing from the text were not added.

Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and were moved to the end of the book. Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside down, and partially printed letters, were corrected. Letters in reverse order were corrected. Capital letters were added where missing at the beginning of sentences. Final stops missing at the end of abbreviations and sentences were added. Duplicate letters and words at line endings or page breaks were removed.

Unprinted dashes were added between entries within the Table of Contents. For consistency, space was added between letters B. C. Unprinted quotation marks were added and mis-matched quotation marks were adjusted to standard usage.

The List of Illustrations omits the Frontispiece, the image preceding the text and final image of the book. Contained in the List, but omitted in the book, were two illustrations: ‘Disappointed Gold Seekers’ and ‘Gold Seeker’s Grave.’ An Illustration entitled ‘City of Barcelona—Spain’ was inserted at that point instead.