The American Quarterly Review Part 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ART. V.--_The Siamese Twins. A Satirical Tale of the Times, with other Poems, by the Author of Pelham, &c._ J. & J.

Harper: New-York: pp. 308.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since the work which was to perform such miracles has appeared, and has been found so egregiously to disappoint expectation, why do those who puffed it on trust, still continue to extol it? The expression of their favourable antic.i.p.ations might be excused; for they may have believed all that they a.s.serted. But their eyes must now be open. The most prejudiced, on perusing the work, must be convinced of its imbecility as a satire, and its insipidity as a poem. Why, then, persist in error?

Complaisance to the prevailing fashion, and a desire to swim with the current, may be the feelings which generally prompt to such conduct. But they are poor apologies for wilfully deceiving the public in a matter so essential to the interests of poetical literature. The critic who knowingly recommends an undeserving poem, ought to be aware that he is contributing to destroy the public confidence in all new poetry; for when men find that tame and uninteresting works are so freely recommended, they very naturally conclude that the times produce none others worthy of recommendation.

We should think, indeed, that experience had, by this time, taught the world the little reliance which ought to be placed generally on contemporary criticism, particularly that description of it usually found in newspapers. But the wide diffusion of this species of periodical work, gives them an influence which no experience, however palpable, of their erroneous judgments in literary matters, has yet been able to counteract. The public, in truth, has. .h.i.therto had its attention but little drawn towards this subject. The fate of a new book seems to be a matter so uninteresting to any but the author and the publisher, that whether editors speak of it favourably or unfavourably, or pa.s.s over it with entire neglect, is considered of no importance. It is forgotten that _good_ literature forms the chief and most permanent glory of a country; that its prosperity is, therefore, of much national value, and ought, for the public benefit, to be a.s.siduously promoted.

But the chance of good literature being properly encouraged, will be ever extremely small, so long as worthless productions are forced into even temporary eclat, by those ready and often glowing commendations of careless editors, which must always, more or less, give direction to public patronage.

There is an erroneous opinion, unfortunately too prevalent among all cla.s.ses, that no book can become generally noticed and much praised in the periodical works, but in consequence of its merit. To those who hold this opinion, the system of reverberating praise from one journal to another, must be unknown. In this country this system is, at present, carried to a great extent. It is chiefly produced by indolence or want of leisure, preventing our editors from carefully reading and judging for themselves, aided by a desire which actuates many of them to be thought fashionable in their opinions. The literary idol of the day is generally set up in the English metropolis. Of course, the fashion of worshipping him commences there. We soon hear of him on this side of the ocean. We wait not to examine whether he be ent.i.tled to homage. We take that for granted, since we are told that he is considered so in London.

With slavish obsequiousness, we hasten to follow the capricious example of the great metropolis, and shout paeans for the fashionable idol, with as much zeal as if we really discerned in his works merit sufficiently exalted to ent.i.tle him to such applause, although the probability is, that, while we are bestowing it, we have scarcely glanced over his productions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the author calls it a satire. It is therefore as a satire, that it ought to be judged. In our opinion, it is no more a satire than a sermon; nay, we have read sermons in which the satiric thong is wielded with much more effect against wickedness and folly, than in this production. We need not enter into a philological explanation of the term satire,--the word is common enough, and we presume that every reader who understands plain English, knows its meaning. To render vice disgusting, and folly ridiculous, is the legitimate office of the satirist. Sarcasm and wit are his most usual and effectual weapons.

Ridicule and reprobation are also used; the former when the intention is to excite derision, and the latter when the arousing of indignation is the object. The great aim of the satirist ought always to be the reformation of depraved morals, corrupt inst.i.tutions, absurd customs, or offensive manners. The contemporary prevalence of such, is what excites his indignation, or provokes his ridicule; and, if he possesses power and dexterity to apply the lash, he performs a real service to society, and acquires a deserved and enviable name among the useful and agreeable writers of the day.

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

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

"Accordingly our saint one day, Into the market took his way, Climbed on an empty tub, that o'er Their heads he might declaim at ease, And to the rout began to roar In wretched Siamese.

'Brethren! (for every one's my fellow, Tho' I am white, and you are yellow,) Brethren! I came from lands afar To tell you all--what fools you are!

Is slavery, pray, so soft, and glib a tie, That you prefer the chain to liberty?

Is Christian faith a melancholy tree, That you will only sow idolatry?

Just see to what good laws can bring lands, And hear an outline of old England's.

Now, say if _here_ a lord should hurt you, Are you made whole by legal virtue?

For ills by battery or detraction, Say, can you bring at once your action?

And are the rich not much more sure To gain a verdict than the poor?

With us alike the poor or rich, Peasant or prince, no matter which-- Justice to all the law dispenses, And all it costs--are the expenses!

_Here_ if an elephant you slay, Your very lives the forfeit pay: Now that's a _quid pro quo_--too seri- Ous much for beasts _naturae ferae_.

_These_ are the thing's that best distinguish men-- These make the glorious boast of Englishmen!

More could I tell you were there leisure, But I have said enough to please, sure: Now then if you the resolution Take for a British const.i.tution, A British king, church, commons, peers-- I'll be your guide! dismiss your fears.

With Hampden's name and memory warm you!

And, d--n you all--but I'll reform you!

As for the dogs that wont be free, We'll give it them most handsomely; To church with scourge and halter lead 'em, And thrash the rascals into freedom."

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

"So high he went, with such celerity, It seemed as for some G.o.d-like merit he Carried from earth, like great Alcides, To Jupiter's ambrosial side is.

But, oh! as maiden speakers break Ev'n so, (while fearing to be crushed Each idler from beneath him dodges), Swift, heavy--like an avalanche--rushed To earth the astonished form of Hodges.

He lay so flat, he lay so still, He seemed beyond all farther ill.

They pinched his side, they shook his head, And then they cried, 'The man is dead!'

On this, each felt no pleasing chill; For ev'n among the Banc.o.c.keans, A gentleman for fun to kill, Is mostly punished--in plebeians.

They stare--look serious--mutter--cough-- And then, without delay, sneak off; Nor at a house for succour knocked, or Thought once of sending for the doctor."

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

A notable scheme now seized the fertile brain of the money loving missionary. The _lusus naturae_ which connected the bodies of the twins, he conceived would render their exhibition profitable in England. He obtained the consent of their father to carry them to Europe, by stipulating to allow them one-half of the earnings of their exhibition.

The acquiescence of the youths themselves he easily procured by inflaming their curiosity to witness the glory and happiness of England, which he described in the most glowing terms of national panegyric.