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Discovering Diverse Content Through
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very ground you tread on, and would, too, all the same, if you had
never a brogue to the foot or a kirtle to the back. Beggar, indeed!
Why, could not he see for himself last night that you had been just
robbed and murdered like out of your own by them thieving Saxons,
and wasn't it for that very reason that, before he went off to his
fishing this blessed morning, he gave me the key of that big black
box, and says—says he, 'Nora, my old woman, I have been thinking
that the young lady up-stairs has been so long on the road that may
be she'll be in want of a new dress like; so, as there is nothing like
decent woman-tailoring to be found in the island, maybe she'll
condescend to see if there's anything in my poor mother's box that
would suit her for the present.' And troth, my darling," old Nora
went on, "it's you that are going to have the pick and choice of fine
things; for she was a grand Spanish lady, she was, and always went
about among us dressed like a princess."

Nora had opened the box at the beginning of this speech, and with
every fresh word she uttered, she flung out such treasures of finery
on the floor as fully justified her panegyric on the deceased lady's
wardrobe.

Nellie soon found herself the centre of a heap of thick silks and
shiny satins, and three-piled velvets and brocaded stuffs, standing
upright by virtue of their own rich material, and of laces so delicate
and fine, that they looked as if she had only to breathe upon them
in order to make them float away upon the air like cobwebs.

She was quite too much of a girl as yet to be able to resist a close
and curious examination of such treasures; nevertheless, her instinct
of the fitness of things was stronger than her vanity, and there was
an incongruity between these courtly habiliments and her broken
fortunes, which made her feel that it would be an absolute
impossibility to wear them. Selecting, therefore, a few articles of
linen clothing, she told old Nora that everything else was far too fine
for daily wear, and began, of her own accord, to restore them to
their coffer. Not so, however, the good old Nora. That any thing
could be too fine for the adornment of any one whom "the master"
delighted to honor, was a simple absurdity in her mind; and she
became so clamorous in her remonstrances, that Nellie was fain to
shift her ground, and to explain that she was bent at that moment
upon "taking a long ramble by the sea-shore, for which anything like
a dress of silk or satin (Nora's own good sense must tell her) would
be, to say the least of it, exceedingly inappropriate."

At these words a new light seemed to dawn upon the old woman's
mind, and, plunging almost bodily down into the deep coffer in her
eagerness to gratify her protégé, she exclaimed, "So it's for a walk
you'd be going this morning, is it? and after all your bother last
night! Well, well, you are young still, and would rather, I daresay, be
skipping about like a young kid among the rocks than sitting up in
silks and satins as grave and stately as if you were a princess in
earnest. Something plain and strong? That's what you'll be wanting,
isn't it, a-lannah? Wait a bit, will you? for I mind me now of a dress
the old mistress had made when she was young, for a frolic, like,
that she might go with me unnoticed to a 'pattern.' And may I never
sin if I haven't got it," she cried, diving down once more into the
coffer, and bringing up from its shining chaos a dress which,
consisting as it did simply of a madder-colored petticoat and short
over-skirt of russet brown, was not by any means very dissimilar to
the habitual costume of a peasant girl of the west at the present
hour. Nora was right. It was, as ladies have it, "the very thing!"
Stout enough and plain enough to meet all Nellie's ideas of
propriety, and yet presenting a sharp contrast of coloring which
(forgive her, my reader, she was only sixteen) she was by no means
sorry to reflect would be exceedingly becoming to her clear, pale
complexion, and the blue-black tresses of her hair. It was with a
little blush of pleasure, therefore, that she took it from the old
woman's hand, exclaiming, "Oh! thank you, dear Nora. It is exactly
what I was wishing for—so strong and pretty. It will make me feel
just as I want to feel, like a good strong peasant girl, able and
willing to work for her living; and, to say the truth, moreover," she
added, somewhat confidentially, "I should not at all have liked
making my appearance in those fine Spanish garments. I should
have been so much afraid of the O'More taking me for his mother."

The annunciation of this grave anxiety set off old Nora in a fit of
laughing, under cover of which Nellie contrived to complete her
toilette. Madder-dyed petticoat, and, russet skirt, and long dark
mantle, she donned them all; but the effect, though exceedingly
pretty, was by no means exactly what she had expected; for Nora,
turning her round and round for closer inspection, declared, with
many an Irish expletive, which we willingly spare our readers, "That
dress herself how she might, no one could ever mistake her for
anything but what she really was, namely, a born lady, and perhaps
even, moreover, a princess in disguise." With a smile and a courtesy
Nellie accepted of the compliment, and then tripped down the
winding staircase of her turret, took one peep at Lord Netterville as
he lay in the room below, in the "calliogh" or nook by the hearth,
which, screened off by a bent matting, had been allotted to him as
the warmest and most comfortable accommodation the tower
afforded, and having satisfied herself that he was still fast asleep,
stepped out gayly into the open air. She was met at the door by
"Maida," who nearly knocked her down in her boisterous delight at
beholding her again, and she was playfully defending herself from
the too rapturous advances of her four-footed friend when Roger
ran his fishing-boat alongside the pier, and, evidently mistaking
Nellie for some bare-footed visitor of Nora's, called out in Irish:

"Hilloa, ma colleen dhas! run back to the tower, will you, and tell
Nora to fetch me down a basket, and you shall have a good handful
of fish for your pains, for I have caught enough to garrison the
island for a week."

Guessing his mistake and enchanted at the success of her

masquerade, Nellie instantly darted into the kitchen, seized a
fishing-creel which was lying near the hearth, and rushed down to
the pier. Roger was still so busy disentangling the fish from the net
in which he had caught them, that he never even looked at Nellie
until he turned round to place them in her basket. Then for the first
time he saw who it was whom he had been so unceremoniously
ordering about upon his commission. Had Nellie been rich and
prosperous, he would probably have laughed and made exceedingly
light of the matter; but poor, and almost dependent on his bounty
as she was, he flushed scarlet to the forehead, and apologized with
an eager deference, which was not only very touching in itself, but
very characteristic of the sensitive and generous-hearted race from
which he sprung. "But, after all," he added, in conclusion, smiling
and laying his finger lightly on the folds of Nellie's mantle, "after all,
how could I dream that, her weeks of weary wandering only just
concluded, Mistress Netterville would have been up again with the
sun, looking as fresh and bright as the morning dew, and
masquerading like a peasant girl?"

"But I am not masquerading at all," said Nellie, laughing, and yet

evidently quite in earnest. "I am as poor as a peasant girl, and
mean to dress like one, ay, and to work like one too, so long as I
needs must be dependent upon others."

"Not if I am still to be master here," said Roger, very decidedly,

taking the fishing-creel out of her hands. "Like a wandering princess
you have come to me; and like a wandering princess I intend that
you shall be treated, so long as you condescend to honor me by
your presence in this kingdom of barren rocks."

"But the fish," said the laughing and blushing Nellie; "in the
meantime, what is to be done with the fish? Nora will be in pain
about it; for she told me last night that there wasn't a blessed fish
in the bay that would be worth a 'thraneen' if only half-an-hour
were suffered to elapse between their exit from the ocean and their
introduction to her kitchen."

"Nora is quite right," said Roger, responding freely to the young

girl's merry laugh; "and it has cost me both time and pains, I do
assure you, to impress that fact upon her mind. But Maida has
already told her all about it; and here she comes," he added, as he
caught a glimpse of the old woman descending leisurely toward the
pier. "So now we may leave the fish with a safe conscience to her
tender mercies, and, if you are inclined for a stroll, I will take you
up to yonder rocky platform, from whence you will see the Atlantic,
as unfortunately we but seldom see it on this wild coast, in all the
calm glories of a summer day."

To Be Continued.
 Mexico, By Baron Humboldt [Footnote 57]

[Footnote 57: Essai politique sur le Royaume de

Nouvelle-Espagne. 2 vols. fol. Chez F. Schoell. Paris.]

Some old books, like some old married couples, deserve a second
celebration. Fifty years are surely long enough to wait for a
rehearsal of nuptials; and a married pair who can for a half-century
live at peace with themselves and the public, respected and
esteemed, receive a merited recognition and a pleasing recompense.
Books that have circulated with an equal longevity and enjoyed
universal appreciation, have also their rights for a share of the cakes
and ale. If the old people have only a new coat and a new gown,
they look young again; if the old favorite volumes are honored with
a fresh binding, their backbones seems strengthened. It is charming
to witness an ancient dame clinging to the side of her equally
ancient husband for time almost out of mind; and it has a home
look to find two venerable tomes, called Volume One and Volume
Two, supporting and comforting each other on the same shelf in the
library. When one of the aged who have trudged on through life
together drops off, how soon the second follows after; and when
one book is lost or destroyed, its companion pines away in dust, if
not in ashes, till, finally neglected, it mysteriously disappears.

But Baron Humboldt's two folios on New Spain or Mexico indicate

that time, as yet, has written no wrinkles on their brow. They are
good for another lease of life of equal length; their high state of
preservation has imparted a healthy appearance; and perhaps
grandchildren hereafter will be delighted to make their acquaintance.
On the present occasion, the compliments of the season, and of the
editor, must be extended to them. And in the interchange of
courtesies, let us hear what they have to say for themselves. It is
somewhat surprising in modern times that Humboldt's folios on
Mexico should have retained so long their pre-eminence. The baron
wrote upon subjects wherein our knowledge is continually
increasing, where important changes are daily made by new
discoveries, and where a constant demand is kept up for new
books. His great essay is devoted to branches of political and social
sciences, which in their nature are progressive sciences,—geography,
topography, economical and commercial statistics. But in the case of
the baron, an exception is found in the general law in relation to the
rise, reign, and fall of standard authorities. His supremacy in the
department of Mexico was established in the first decade of the
present age; it may not be destroyed in the last. Yet one fact is
truly remarkable: his essay was published in 1811 in Paris, in the
most imposing and expensive form, in two volumes in folio; it had
been anxiously expected; it was instantly translated into all the
modern languages of Europe; it was received with eulogiums and
commendations; but no second edition was ever called for. This
singular fate of a performance so much extolled, and still quoted,
needs some explanation; and in giving this, the interest manifested
abroad in the situation of Mexico must also be explained; for in
truth, the popularity of the essay was, for the most part, due to the
importance of and attention bestowed upon that rich province of the
king of Spain on the western shores of the Atlantic. Mexico had
been a resplendent gem in the Spanish crown from the time of the
conquest by Cortez in 1521; it had been the envy of rival nations,
and often the prize which they desired to win from its rightful
sovereign. England was eager to supply its market with African
slaves, in order to gain access to its ports, and thereby stimulate
the contraband trade. France was perpetually on guard at the
Bahamas to capture its bullion fleets, bearing their precious cargoes
from Vera Cruz to Cadiz. The Dutch defeated the best of Spanish
admirals, and carried off the richest spoils; while all three, English,
French, and Dutch cruisers, partly privateers, partly public armed
vessels with their piratical captains and crews, in times of profound
peace made private war on every ship sailing under the flag of
Castile. The capital of that far-off country was described in the last
century as one of the wonders of the modern world. We read in
Spence's Anecdotes, that a travelled gentlemen who had seen
several of the most splendid courts abroad, stated in the presence
of Mr. Pope, the poet, that he had never been struck so much with
anything as by the magnificence of the City of Mexico, with its
seven hundred equipages and harness of solid silver, and ladies
walking on the paseo waited upon by their black slaves, to hold up
the trains, and shade with umbrellas their fair mistresses from the
sun. But this New Spain had nothing attractive beyond its wealth; it
had no arts, sciences, or history; no literature, poetry, or romance.
With the death of Hernando Cortez, these had died out. No one
desired more on these subjects. But everybody wished to learn all
that could be learned of its prolific revenues, and of its enormous
resources in the precious metals, then supplying the commerce of
all nations with coin. Nothing was talked of, listened to, or
considered, when discussing the condition of that country, except its
vast production of silver. "Thank you," said Tom Hood, when dining
with a London Amphictyon, who was helping his plate too profusely,
"thank you, alderman; but if it is all the same to you, I will take the
balance in money." Interest in Mexico was taken in nothing else.

It must be remembered that credit in commerce is of recent origin,

and paper currency of still more recent creation. Both, comparatively
speaking, were in their infancy at the close of the last century.
Precious metals were then the sole, or at least the great, medium of
commercial exchanges; and consequently, silver and gold performed
a more important part in the markets than they do now. They were
more highly appreciated and sought after. Then it was, that the
Mexican mines yielded the far greater portion of the total product;
and, of course, the control of these mines was supposed to afford
the control of the commerce of the world. Economists and
statesmen, therefore, turned their gaze upon that strange land
beyond sea, as the only land in that direction worthy of their notice.
But the notice bestowed upon it was absorbing. Napoleon, availing
himself of the imbecility of the king of Spain, and of the venality of
the Prince of Peace, endeavored to divert the Mexican revenues
from the royal House of Trado at Seville to the imperial treasury of
France. Ouvrard, also, the most daring speculator in the most
gigantic schemes under Napoleon, the contractor-general for the
armies and navy of the French empire, undertook, on his own
responsibility, to enter into a private partnership with the Spanish
sovereign to monopolize the trade of Mexico, and divide equally the
profits. Napoleon assented to this arrangement; English bankers
took part in the negotiation; and the British government under
William Pitt gave it their sanction and aid. Yet, strange to relate, all
this transpired while England was at war with France and Spain, and
a British fleet blockaded the harbor of Vera Cruz. These hostile
nations were drained of money, and wanted an immediate supply.
France had anticipated the public revenues to meet the imperial
necessity; the Bank of England had stopped specie payments;
Madrid was threatened with a famine from a series of failures in the
crops at home, and no funds were in the royal coffers to purchase
wheat abroad. Thus all were clamorous for coin, which Mexico only
could produce. It was known that fifty millions of silver dollars were
on deposit in the Consulado of Vera Cruz, awaiting shipment to
Spain; and it was well known, also, that, if shipped, the greater
portion of the amount would soon find its way to Paris and London.
In this state of affairs, the emergency became so pressing upon the
belligerents, that their war policy was compelled to succumb; the
blockade was raised and the bullion exported. We shall not soon
forget how a similar exigency in the late war compelled the Lincoln
administration to permit provisions being furnished to the
Confederates, in order to procure cotton to strengthen our finances.
Cotton was king of commerce in 1864, Silver was king in 1804.

England, at the same time, was meditating seriously upon the

resources and riches of New Spain. Aware of the importance
attached by the British cabinet to the subject, Dumouriez, the
distinguished French republican exile, then in London, addressed Mr.
Windham, the Secretary of War and for the Colonies, a paper
advocating its conquest. The general called attention to the fact
that, once in English occupancy, "the commerce of the two seas will
be in your hands; the metallic riches of Spanish America will pour
into England; you will deprive Spain and Bonaparte of them; and
this monetary revolution will change the political face of Europe." It
seems Mr. Windham entertained the project, and referred it to Sir
Arthur Wellesley. In the sixth volume of the Wellington
Supplementary Dispatches, the proposition is examined.

While such was the state of public opinion in Europe, finding

expression daily in high quarters, and of which the above are only
isolated examples, Humboldt undertook his scientific expedition to
Spanish America, and was preparing his great essay on New Spain.
He landed in Mexico in March, 1803, and remained in the country
for one year, engaged in the study of the physical structure and
political condition of the vast realm, and in the investigation of the
causes having the greatest influence on the progress of its
population and native industry. But no printed work could be found
to aid him in his researches with materials, and therefore he
resorted to manuscripts in great numbers, already in general
circulation. He had also free, uninterrupted access to official records;
records which for the first time were permitted to be examined by a
private gentleman. Finally, he embodied his topographical,
geographical, statistical, and other collections, into a separate work
on New Spain, "hoping they would be received with interest at a
time when the new continent, more than ever, attracts the attention
of Europeans." The original sketch was drawn up in Spanish for
circulation, and from the comments thereon, he informs us, he "was
enabled to make many important corrections." The Essay reviews
the extent and physical aspect of the country; the influence of the
inequalities of surface on the climate, on agriculture, commerce, and
defence of the coasts; the population, and its divisions into castes;
the census and area of the intendencias—calculated from the maps
drawn up by him from his astronomical observations; its agriculture
and mines, commerce and manufactures; the revenues and military
defences. But Humboldt very candidly confesses, as incident to such
an undertaking, that, "notwithstanding the extreme care which I
have bestowed in verifying results, no doubt many serious errors
have been committed." It can be readily imagined what attention
was given in Europe to the first rude sketch of statistics published
by him in 1804-5, The cupidity and ambition of merchants,
statesmen, and military men were aroused by this first authentic
revelation of Mexican revenues and resources. All nations were
anxious to learn more; all classes of people listened in wonder to
this true account respecting the prodigious production of the
precious metals. In this pleasing excitement, Humboldt was
preparing his complete Essay, to satisfy the public desire. Having
learned caution from the inaccuracies pointed out in his first rough
publication, he was in no great haste to send forth the final result of
his labors. Thus, he waited for four or five years; and, unfortunately
for his own profit, he waited too long. The interest in Mexico had
gone by; the golden visions of its boundless opulence had vanished;
its fascinations, that had charmed for years, like some castle raised
by magic in a night, resplendent with gems of ruby, amethyst, and
jasper, had passed away; the spell of enchantment was broken. For
the rebellion burst out in 1810, and commerce, revenues, industry,
all perished in the general ruin it created. It was now, in common
estimation, one of the poorest colonies of Spain; and what cared the
public for more Spanish poverty beyond the Atlantic, when too much
of it already was visible in the peninsula? The great Essay,
therefore, when finally published, was not purchased with impatient
eagerness; it fell flat on the market. For Mexico was now ruined, the
public thought; and so does the public continue to think, even unto
the present day. Thenceforth, Mexican antiquities only were
attractive. The Edinburgh Review, in 1811, writing on the essay,
commences: "Since the appearance of our former article on this
valuable and instructive work, a great and, for the present at least,
lamentable revolution has taken place in the countries it describes.
Colonies which were at that time the abode of peace and industry
have now become the seat of violence and desolation. A civil war,
attended with various success, but everywhere marked with cruelty
and desolation, has divided the colonists, and armed them for their
mutual destruction. Blood has been shed profusely in the field and
unmercifully on the scaffold. Flourishing countries, that were
advancing rapidly in wealth and civilization, have suffered alike from
the assertors of their liberties and from the enemies of their
independence." The Quarterly Review did not notice the Essay,
making no sign of its existence.

It is true, some learned gentlemen gave a look into the work, and
scientific men studied it well. But the learned and scientific were
only a small, select number in the general mass of readers; and
Humboldt had not designed his information for, and waited not the
approbation of, the select alone, but of all classes alike that could
read. Europe closed the map of Mexico when the revolution broke
forth, and shut out all further inquiry into its political and industrial
condition. Then it was that, instead of a cordial greeting with open
arms at every fire side, which Humboldt reasonably anticipated for
his production, the door was almost rudely slammed in his face. He
never forgot that treatment of the book; he never wrote more upon
Mexico; never furnished to the learned or unlearned a new edition,
with emendations and corrections, notes and new maps. As it went
from the hands of the author then, we receive it now.

At the moment, however, when Europe closed the map, America for
the first time seriously opened it; and just in proportion with
receding time, as Mexico has faded into insignificance from
European view, in the same proportion with advancing time has
Mexico loomed up into importance with us. They refused to
Humboldt then the high consideration his Essay merited; we bestow
upon him now more respect and veneration than his Essay
deserves. To the European mind, Humboldt's New Spain was Mexico
no more; to the American, Mexico is the same New Spain—changed,
to be sure, but still the land for enterprise and riches. It was not
altogether unknown to us before our revolution. It had a
consideration while the States were English colonies; for Northern
merchants sometimes smuggled into its ports, and sometimes, too,
our fillibusters buccaneered on its coasts, like other loyal English
subjects sailing under "the brave old English flag." When our
revolution came, aid was invoked from Spain as well as from France;
for the Spanish sovereign had a personal insult to avenge on the
British, and Spanish supremacy on the seas to maintain. But Spain,
though willing, had, first of all, to concentrate her fleets. One
armada was contending with the Portuguese in South America;
another was acting as convoy for the galleons, with cargoes of
silver, proceeding from Mexico to Spain. Treaties with Portugal were
hastily patched up, and "the ordinanza of free trade" liberated the
convoy from protecting the ships laden with the silver. The policy of
that ordinance Humboldt, and many respectable Mexican writers
after him, have much misunderstood; and they are greatly mistaken
in their estimate of its beneficial effects on mining prosperity. After
the United States became an independent nation, Spain, in order to
be rid of the Louisiana incumbrance, which was dependent upon the
revenues of Mexico for support, transferred that territory to France;
and Napoleon, in turn, sold it to the American government. But did
its boundaries extend to the Sabine or the Rio Grande, on the
south? And did they extend to the Russian Pacific possessions on
the north? These were uncertain questions, and hence from this
purchase originated those many diplomatic complications, and no
less numerous domestic controversies, which have been the fruitful
source of change in cabinets and of defeats of national parties, with
the downfall of not a few distinguished men. Hence, also, the first
settlements in Texas; next the American colonists, and the question
of annexation; the war with Mexico; the treaty of Guadalupe
Hidalgo, and the acquisition of California. Before these measures
were decided, however, Colonel Burr had already, with his band of
adventurers, undertaken that mysterious enterprise in the same
direction, whose object seems to have been as vague as the
boundaries to be invaded were uncertain. Ouvrard, also, had
solicited and effected the co-operation of leading merchants in
Northern cities, in his joint speculation with the king of Spain, for
the vast Mexican commercial scheme. And herein was given the
great impulse to amassing those large private fortunes, by Mr. Gray
of Boston, Mr. Oliver of Baltimore, Mr. Girard of Philadelphia, and the
Parish family. Subsequently came the Mexican revolution, protracted
for twelve years, during which period the commerce of that country,
previously a Spanish monopoly, was completely under the control of
Americans. At the close of the Napoleon wars Spain desired the
monopoly restored, in order to transfer it to France. This movement
called forth, in favor of free commerce, the celebrated message
announcing the Monroe doctrine. The message gave umbrage to
Russia in reference to her American possessions, and fixed their
ultimate destiny. It also forced England to disclose her claim for the
first time, and to exhibit her title to the Vancouver country south of
the Russian—a title until then unheard of and unknown to American
statesmen. The Missouri Compromise grew out of the acquisition of
Louisiana, and its repeal grew out of the acquisition of California. As
a supplement to the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, was concluded the
treaty for the Messilla Valley, which negotiation sprung from a
mistake in Humboldt's maps, faithfully copied by Disturnell, in giving
a wrong location, in longitude and latitude, to El Paso on the Rio
Grande. The invasion of Mexico by France in 1862, nearly kindled a
desolating war between the United States and the French empire.
Unforeseen obstacles, however, induced Louis Napoleon to pause in
the conquest; for he had, in its inception, been deceived respecting
the condition of Mexico and the Mexican people, and misled as to
the easy development by France of the abundant resources of the
country. The moral support, moreover, extended to the liberal party
by the American government compelled the French to abandon an
expedition which was properly appreciated in all its imposing
magnitude by the emperor, but which so many to this day do not
comprehend.

No one can fail to be astonished in contemplating the large space

occupied by Mexico in American affairs; the immense acquisition of
territory made from within her ancient landmarks; the princely
private fortunes accumulated from her commerce; the vast treasures
discovered in her former mines; the rich agricultural crops gathered
from her Louisiana valley, her Texas loamy soil, and her California
plains; while, upon the margin of the Mississippi river, a city, created
by Mexican aid and contributions, has grown into an opulent mart of
commerce, surpassing all other American cities in the value of its
exports, in the happy era of our greatest prosperity. Nor can that
prosperity ever return until New Orleans once more becomes the
leading emporium for the outlet of the great staples of this republic.
It is no less surprising to recall the fate of so many statesmen, and
others of mark, who have risen to distinction, or who have been
forced to retire, from questions growing out of their policy toward
Mexico. It is no longer disputed that the first fatal error of the first
Napoleon was his invasion of Spain, thereby to control the Mexican
revenues; perhaps it will soon be conceded that the first fatal error
of Louis Napoleon was, in too closely following in the footsteps, in
the same direction, of his illustrious uncle. Colonel Burr, the Vice-
President of the United States, from his ill-starred adventure, fell
into disgrace and sunk into an infamous notoriety. General
Wilkinson, once upon the military staff of Washington, was both the
accomplice and ruin of Burr, and died in obscurity in a voluntary
exile. The Missouri Compromise destroyed the aspirations of many
Northern statesmen who opposed its adoption, and shattered the
popularity of others who afterward advocated its repeal. The
question of annexing Texas was the fatal rock upon which were
wrecked the hopes of President Van Buren for renomination; it
defeated Mr. Clay; it elected Mr. Polk. In succession to the
presidency, were elected General Taylor and General Pierce, from
their distinguished positions in the war with Mexico. To the like
cause, Colonel Frémont was indebted for his popular nomination,
nearly crowned with success. Winfield Scott was made a Brevet
Lieutenant-General for his meritorious services in the Mexican
campaign, and many of the greatest generals in the recent strife,
both Federal and Confederate, received their first practical lessons in
the art of war on the same distant field. To all of these historical
celebrities, the crude statistics or the elaborate Essay of Humboldt
were well known; for Humboldt's publications were the only source
of authentic information on Mexico of much value. Other foreign
authors, who followed after, copied extensively from him, and native
writers have not failed to quote from the same source. But although
foreign authors have drawn more from the Essay, they have been
less circumspect in verifying the accuracy of its statements; while
the Mexican writers, availing themselves sparingly of extracts,
sometimes, at least, favor the public with interesting corrections.
Travellers too often have given us too much of Humboldt. Indeed, it
may be said, they have fed upon him; they have imbibed him with
their pulque, and taken him solid with their toasted tortilla. His
Essay has been pulled apart leaf by leaf, to be reprinted page after
page in their, for the most part, ephemeral productions. Humboldt in
pieces has been dished up to suit all customers. An oyster could not
be served in more varieties of style. Even foreign embassies have
supplied some of these literary cooks. None of them seemed to
know that man, even in Mexico, must have more than Humboldt. In
a fervid imagination, they thought he could be improved upon, by
reducing the Essay to sublimated extracts. But Doctor Samuel
Johnson hinted, long ago, that extracts from a work are as silly
specimens of its author as was that by the foolish old Greek, who
exhibited a brick from his house as a specimen of its architecture.
Mr. Prescott, on the contrary, in his celebrated history of the
Conquest, with his usual discriminating judgment, has properly
availed himself of the Essay to afford his readers a vivid and
veracious picture of the natural configuration of the country. And to
understand the country properly, this is the primary lesson to be
attentively studied. But it is much to be regretted that Mr. Duport, in
his standard French work on the production of its precious metals,
was misled by errors existing in the maps accompanying the Essay.
In consequence, he has made serious mistakes in describing its
geological structure, in the run and inclinations of the strata in the
silver rock, in the silver-bearing region.

Whoever desires to comprehend the political condition and the

industrial or commercial resources of Mexico, ought to commence as
Humboldt commenced. It is only through a strict investigation of its
material interests that Mexico can be understood. To begin with an
examination of its political history is to begin where the labor should
end. Mexico, for three hundred years, was a colony, and, like other
colonies, had no history, no policy of its own; no armies, no navies,
no wars; nothing of statesmanship peculiar to itself; for all were
absorbed in the history of the mother country. When emerging from
a colonial chrysalis, it did not become a nation; it may be somewhat
doubted if it has even yet reached that position. As a republic, its
federal government has been without a policy, its administrations
without stability, its finances without an exchequer; its armies
unable to conquer abroad, or contend with foreign invaders at
home; it has no navy; it is almost destitute of all the essential
elements that constitute a people. True, Mexico has had great
vicissitudes of fortune, with changes, frequent changes, and for the
most part violent overthrows, of the federal rulers. But these
convulsions have produced no serious results. The storms passed
over without indications of wide-spread disaster. Sunshine came
again without any visible improvement; no signs of increasing
intelligence, no symptoms of decay to the superficial observer; for
these petty conflicts originated in personal motives, and so ended.
Having no political object, they are devoid of grave consideration, of
any interest or profit. Their civil wars have been of regular periodical
return, but these wars are of no more historical significance than
the wars of the Saxon Heptarchy. Mexico, for many reasons, must
still be contemplated, while a sovereign nation, as she was viewed
when a viceroyalty of Spain. The country now appears in
Christendom as an enigma full of strange anomalies. In the
erroneous estimation of most men, it is hastening on to ruin and
decay: calamities that came upon the people in their revolt from
Spain, and which will cling to them until their race is extinct. The
royal finger of scorn, too, is pointed at the republic, as a reproach
and warning to all republican governments of their ultimate failure.
It would be vain to waste time on its political records, to elucidate
Mexican questions. These annals are dumb. But to the mountains,
the mines, the mills, where the rich minerals are produced and
industry is developed, the inquirer must go to find out what Mexico
really is. In observing the people in their private pursuits, he will
imperceptibly be led to comprehend their political institutions. In
daily contact with the distinct classes, divided into castes, he will in
like manner be soon conversant with the most noted men. Enigmas
will vanish upon nearer approach and on closer inspection;
anomalies will no longer embarrass. Perhaps previously formed
opinions may be shocked, rudely assailed, and demolished. He may
see many lingering remnants of Astec superstition in one caste,
where they often disobey the priest; and much affectation of
infidelity in another, where they kneel as suppliants at the
confessional to crave a blessing. He will perceive marks of seeming
decay everywhere, amid indications of progress. The federal
government will be pronounced not only bad, but bad as
government in a republic can be; yet will he find some consolation
in knowing that the viceregal government was far worse. In the
dregs of a popular polity, some protection for the people will be
manifest, which was denied under a king. He will hear Spain, on all
sides, spoken of with reverence and respect; he will soon
understand, on all sides, that Spaniards are detested. He will be
gratified with the cordial welcome bestowed upon Americans; and
wonder at the common hatred, in all classes, to the United States.
While he is aware that millions upon hundreds of millions of dollars,
from outlying provinces torn from the nation, have been yielded to
their neighbor on the north, he will also discover that the heart of
the Mexican territory has not been reached. Nor need he be
surprised when the truth is revealed, that the Liberal executive will
sooner forget the hostile invasion by France, than forgive the moral
support extended to the native cause by that American neighbor.

On the whole, he may conclude that the Mexicans, after all, are
somewhat rational and sensible, not entirely deficient in refinement
and intelligence, or in energy and industry. But these opinions can
only be formed by pursuing the method of Humboldt, and bearing
his elaborate production in mind. By constant comparison of his
statements with more recent publications from the Mexican press on
the same subjects, not only greater accuracy in details will be
reached, along with later information, but the advancement in
knowledge and wealth will be made apparent. It is thus a just
estimate of Mexico at present with Mexico of the past can be
formed; and while many imperfections in the parts of the Essay will
be detected, no one can fail to admire and appreciate its general
excellence.
 One Fold.
"And there shall be one fold."
 Disciple.

"One Fold! Good Lord, how poor thou art,

To have but one for all!
Methinks the rich with shame will smart
To stand in common stall
With ragged boors and work-grimed men;
And ladies fair, with those who when
They pray have dirty, hands.
Dost think the wise can be devout
When, close beside, an ignorant lout
With mouth wide-gaping stands?

I would thou wert a richer Lord,

And could an hundred folds afford
Where each might find his place.
Look round, good Lord, and thou wilt see
Most men the same have thought with me,
And herd with whom they best agree
In fashion, creed, and race."

Master.

"Good child, thou hast a merry thought!

But folds like mine cannot be bought,
Nor made at fancy's will.
If any find my fold too small
'Tis they who like no fold at all,
The same who heed no shepherd's call,
Whom wolves will find and kill.
My fold alone is close and warm,
Shielding its inmates from all harm—
Its pastures rich and sweet.
Hither, with gentle hand, I bring
The peasant and the crownèd king
Together at my feet
 Together at my feet.
Here no man flings a look of scorn
At him who may be baser born,
For all as brothers meet.
The wise speak kindly to the rude;
The lord would not his slave exclude;
Proud dames their servants greet.
My fold doth equally embrace
The men of every clime and race,
And here in peace they rest.
Here each forgets his rank and state.
And only he is high and great
Who loveth me the best.
The rich, the poor, the bond, the free,
The men of high and low degree,
My fold unites in one with me—
With me, the Shepherd, called The Good,
Who rules a loving brotherhood.
Therefore, in that my fold is one,
Believe me, it is wisely done."
 Translated From The French Of M. Vitet.

Science And Faith.

Meditations On The Essence Of The Christian

Religion,
By M. Guizot.

Some time ago political life seemed to be the prominent occupation

in France. M. Guizot was then cautiously defending his opinions, and
was really wearing out his energy and his life in this work. At that
time, we have heard it wished more than once, not that the struggle
should cease, but that death might not surprise him with his mind
occupied solely with these passing events. He needed, as a last
favor and at the end of an ambitious career, some years of quiet
and retreat to meditate upon the future, and to revive the faith of
youth by the lessons of riper years. He required this for himself, for
the interest of his soul. Nothing then foretold that he would soon be
engaged in the arena of metaphysical and religious controversy. The
disputes about these questions seemed almost lulled to sleep. Not
that doubt and incredulity had surrendered their arms; they followed
their accustomed work, but without noise, without parade, and
without apparent success. This was a truce which had allowed
Christian convictions to become reanimated, to increase, and to gain
ground. The proof of this was seen in those gloomy days, when the
waves of popular opinion, which threatened to destroy, bent,
completely subdued and submissive and with an unlooked-for
respect, before sacred truths and the ministers of religion. This was
the natural result of that bitter struggle which had lasted for fifteen
years. The aggressors could not undertake two sieges at one time,
and so political power became the target against which all their
efforts were directed.

It is not the same now. Power is protected by an armor which has

disheartened its adversaries; and the more surely it is guarded, the
more exposed and compromised are other questions, which equal or
even exceed it in importance. The spirit of audacity and aggression
compensates itself for the forced forbearance from politics, imposed
upon it by the political power. It sees that in religious matters the
ground is not so well protected; it feels more at ease there and not
nearly so hard pushed. From this fact there arises a series of bold
attacks of a new order, which scandalize the believing, and astonish
the most indifferent, when they think for a moment of the preceding
calm. It is no longer men or ministers, it is not a form of
government, it is God himself whom they attack? We do not ask
that the government should place the least restriction on the rights
of free thought, even should it be to the advantage of the truths
that we venerate the most. We desire to state the fact, and nothing
more. It may be that these attacks are not important enough to
cause as much anxiety as they have done. They are passionate,
numerous, and skilfully arranged; but they cannot shake the edifice,
and will serve rather to strengthen it, by summoning to its aid
defenders who are more enlightened, and protectors who are more
vigilant. Still, they are a great source of trouble. The restlessness,
the distress, and the vague fears that the agitation of political affairs
seemed alone capable of producing, now arise in the heart of the
domestic circle and in the depths of the individual soul from these
new discussions. It is not personal interests that are now risked, but
souls that are in danger; and if the crisis is apparently less violent
and intense, it is really graver and more menacing, and no one can
remain neutral in the struggle.

And so M. Guizot wishes to take a part, and has entered the fray.
He is of the number who, at certain times and upon certain
subjects, do not know how to be silent. In politics he held back and
he forbore. He saw the events, but he did not say what he thought
of them. His debt in politics is now amply paid; all the more since
he owed it to himself, as well as to his cause, to reestablish the real
sense, the true physiognomy of the things he did. He had to explain
clearly his views, his intentions, his acts; to interpret them and to
comment upon them, we can almost say, to finish them during his
own life; to give the true key to his future historians; in a word, to
write his own memoirs. This was his duty, and he has acted rightly
in not delaying it. It was not less for other ends, and in the design
of a greater work, that he wished for twenty years' solitude and
repose at the end of his life. His desire was heard. The days of calm
and retreat have come, not, perhaps, at the time that he desired,
and still less under conditions that he would have chosen, but for
his glory they are such that he can well think them fruitful, worthy,
valuable, full of vigor and of ardor. Happy autumn! when the
recollections of the world and the echoes of political strife are only
the recreation of a soul incessantly engaged with more serious
problems. It is in these heights, in these serene regions, while he is
questioning himself on his destiny and on his faith, that war has
come to seek him; not the personal war of former times, but
another kind of war, less direct and more general, yet perhaps more
provoking. He is not the man to refuse the contest. Under the
weight of years that he bears so well, stronger, more resolute,
younger than ever, he has entered the arena; he will be militant
until the end.

What will he do? What is his plan? What position will he take? The
volume which is before us is an answer to these questions. It is only
a first volume; but it is complete in itself, it is a work that one
cannot study too closely, nor diffuse too widely. The developments,
the additions, and the supplements which the three remaining
volumes will soon add to the work, will, without doubt, make it still
more comprehensive and solid; but as it is now, we consider it,
without any commentary whatsoever, to be a most effective reply to
the attacks which have recently been levelled against Christian
doctrines, or, to speak more correctly, against the essence of all
religion.
Before entering into the work, let us say something of the manner
in which it is written. We are not going to speak of the author's
style. We would announce nothing new to the world by saying that
M. Guizot, when he has time and really tries, can write as well as he
speaks. His pen for many years has followed a law of progress and
of increasing excellence. He has shown in these Meditations a new
skill, perhaps higher than in his Memoirs even, in the art of
clothing his ideas in excellent language; learnedly put together, yet
without effort or stiffness, true in its coloring, sober in its effects,
always clear and never trivial, always firm and often forcible.
Something more novel and more characteristic appears in this book.
It is in reality a controversial work, but a controversy which is
absolutely new. It is more than courteous, it is an impersonal
polemic. The author has, certainly, always shown himself respectful
to his opponents; he has ever admitted that they could hold
different opinions from his in good faith; and even at the rostrum, in
the heat of contests, his adversaries were not persons, they were
ideas; but the people he disputed with were always, without
scruple, called by their names. Here it is different; there is not a
single proper name, the war is anonymous. In changing the
atmosphere—in passing, if we can be allowed the expression, from
earth to heaven, or, at least, from the bar to the pulpit, from politics
to the gospel, he changes his method and takes a long step in
advance. He endeavors to leave persons entirely out of
consideration, for they only embarrass and embitter the questions.
He forgets, or at least he does not tell us, who his adversaries are;
he refutes them, but he does not name them.

Is not this discretion at once, good manners and good taste? It is

also something more. Without doubt, by speaking only of ideas and
not of those who maintain them, one loses a great means of
effective action. In abstract matters, proper names referred to here
and there are a very powerful resource—they arouse and excite
attention, they give interest and life to the argument; but what is
gained on one hand is frequently lost on another. The use of proper
names, though it may have nothing to provoke irritation, still always
incurs the danger of causing the debate to degenerate into a
personal dispute. The questions are reduced to the capacity of those
who sustain them. Better take a plainer and more decided path, and
keep persons completely out of view. M. Guizot has done well. In no
part of his book is there reason to regret the vivacity and attraction
of a more direct polemic; whilst the urbanity and the omission of
names, without really changing or diminishing the questions, spread
a calm gravity throughout the work, almost a perfume of tolerance,
which gains the reader's confidence and disposes him to allow
himself to be convinced. It is true that this kind of polemics can only
be maintained when greatness of thought compensates for the lack
of passion. It is necessary to take wing, mount above questions,
conquer all and enlighten all. Such is the character of these
Meditations. The comprehensiveness of his views, the greatness of
his plan, and the clearness of his style, alike impress upon it the
seal of true originality.

It is not a theology that M. Guizot has undertaken; he has not

written for doctors; he discusses neither texts nor points of doctrine;
he does not attempt to solve scholastic difficulties; still less does he
wish to mingle in the discussion of incidental events, to descend to
the questions of to-day, and to follow, step by step, the crisis which
agitates the Christian world at this time. He has grappled with more
weighty and more permanent questions. He wishes to show clearly
the truth of Christianity in its essence, in its fundamental dogmas, or
rather in its simplicity and innate greatness, without commentary,
interpretation, or human work of any kind, and consequently before
all disunion, schism, or heresy. He has tried to expose the pure idea
of Christianity, so that he can be more able to demonstrate its divine
character.

Such is his intention. What has he done to attain it? The book itself
must answer this question. But in these few pages how can we
speak of it? How can we analyze a work when one is tempted to
quote every paragraph? And on the other hand to give many
extracts from a book, is only to mutilate it and give an incorrect
idea of its real value. Let us only try, then, to say enough to inspire
our readers with the more profitable desire of studying M. Guizot
himself.

I.

The beginning and the foundation of these Meditations is a well-

known truth, which the author establishes with absolute certainty,
and which at this time it is useful to keep in mind. This truth is, that
the human race, since its first existence and in every place where it
has existed, has been engaged in trying to solve certain questions
which are, so to speak, personal to it. These are questions, of
destiny, of life rather than science, questions it has invincibly tried to
determine. For example, Why is man in this world, and why the
world itself? Why does it exist? Whence do they come, and where
do they both tend? Who has made them? Have they an intelligent
and free Creator? or are they merely a product of blind elements? If
they are created, if we have a Father, why, in giving us life, has he
made it so bitter and painful? Why is there sin? Why suffering and
death? Is not the hope of a better life only the illusion of the
unhappy; and prayer, that cry of the soul in anguish, is it only a
sterile noise, a word thrown to the mocking wind?

These questions, together with others which develop and complete

them, have excited the deepest interest of the human race since it
first existed upon the earth, and it alone is interested in them. They
speak only to it; among all living creatures, it alone can comprehend
and is affected by them. This painful yet grand privilege is the
indisputable evidence of its terrestrial royalty; it is at once its glory
and its torment.

This series of questions, or rather mysteries, M. Guizot places at the

beginning of his Meditations, under the title of Natural
Problems. Man, indeed, possesses them by his very nature; he
does not create or invent them, he merely submits to them. We do
not mean by this that for humanity in general these problems are
not obscure and confused, without a distinct form or outline,
surrounded with uncertainties and frequently rather seen than
clearly apprehended. This must be true of the great mass of
mankind, who live from hand to mouth, who go and come and
work, absorbed in petty pleasures or occupied with dreary toil. Still
we think that there is not a single one, even among these
apparently dull and heedless men, in whatever way he may have
lived and whatever hardships he has had to sustain, who has not at
least once in his life caught a glimpse of these formidable questions
and felt an ardent wish to see them solved. Make as many
distinctions as you please between races, sexes, ages, and degrees
of civilization; divide the globe and its inhabitants by zones or
climates; you will no doubt discover more than one difference in the
way in which these problems are presented to the soul; you will find
them more or less prominent, and more or less attention paid to
them; but you will find a trace of them everywhere and among all
people. It is a law of instinct, a general law for all times and places.

If such is our lot, if these questions necessarily weigh upon minds,

these questions which are "the burden of the soul," as M. Guizot
calls them, are we not really compelled to try to solve them? It is on
our part neither vain curiosity, nor capricious desire, nor frivolous
habit which leads us to attempt it. It is a necessity, quite as serious
and as natural to us as the problems are themselves; a need we
feel in some way to have lifted from us the weight which oppresses.
We must have a reply at any cost; who can give it to us?

Faith or Reason? Religion or Philosophy? At every moment we see in

what a very limited manner reason, science, and all purely human
resources suffice to satisfy us. It can be said that, from the very
infancy of human society up to the present day, it has been from
the various religions, thought to be divine and accepted as such by
faith, that humanity has asked these indispensable responses.

We readily see from this, what a deep interest is attached to these

natural problems. Who will presume to tell us that religion proceeds
from an artificial and temporary want, which men have gradually
overcome, if the problems to which it answers are inherent in the
race and can only perish with it? It is the constant work and
watchword of every materialistic and pantheistic system to distort
the character of these problems and make them simply accidental
and individual, the result of temperament or of circumstances.
Farther than this, they had not yet gone. They did not dare to deny,
in the face of universal testimony, the continued existence of the
problems themselves. They disguised their significance, they did not
aspire to destroy them. Now they take another step. In order to get
the advantage in answering, they begin by suppressing the
questions. This is the characteristic feature, the first step of a
system which makes a great deal of noise in the world to-day,
although it only claims to reproduce efforts which have been already
more than once defeated. It has, however, this kind of novelty, this
advantage over its associates which, like it, have issued from
pantheism, that it is not vague. It sets forth its opinions clearly and
without equivocation, and by this fact this school of philosophy has
gained the title by which it is commonly known. We need hardly say
that it is to Positivism that we are alluding. This promises with the
greatest seriousness, if we will only lend it our attention, to free
humanity from these untoward problems which now torment it.

Its remedy is extremely simple: it simply says to the human race,

Why do you seek to know whence you have come and what is your
destiny? You will never find out a word of this. Do then your real
duty. Leave these vain fancies. Live, become learned, study the
evolution of things, that is to say, secondary causes and their
relations; on this subject science has wonders to reveal to you; but
final causes and first causes, our origin and our destiny, the
beginning and the end of the world, these are all pure reveries,
words completely without meaning! The perfection of man as well
as of society consists in taking no notice of these things. The mind
becomes more enlightened, the more it leaves in obscurity your
pretended natural problems. These problems are really a disease,
and the way to cure it is, not to think of them at all.
Not to think of them! Ingenuous proposition! Wonderful ignorance of
the eternal laws of human nature! "Our age," say they, "inclines to
these ideas: but let us not be disturbed by this." Men will not be
persuaded by speaking to them in such a clear way, any more than
Don Juan could overcome Sganarelle by his discourses on "two and
two are four." Positivism not only attempts the impossible, but it
frankly acknowledges it. Let us suppose for a moment that by some
miracle it should triumph; that man, in order to please this system,
should cease to pay any attention to the problems which beset him,
should renounce the idea of fathoming these questions, and should
despise every attempt at a religious or even a metaphysical solution,
every inspiration toward the Infinite. How long does any one believe
this would continue? We do not think that the human mind would
consent to be thus mutilated and imprisoned for two days in
succession. Were this system far more fascinating, the human soul
would still rise above the limit to which Positivism would confine it,
and would say with a great poet:

"Je ne puis, l'infini malgré moi me tourmente."

And so we see, whatever may happen, Positivism is not destined to

give us the solution of these natural problems. After, as before, its
appearance, the mystery of our destiny claims the attention of the
human race.

M. Guizot describes another attempt, of an entirely different

character. It is apparently less bold, for its aim is not to suppress
inquiry, but merely to elude any definite solution of these natural
problems. It cannot be properly called a system; it is rather a state
of the individual soul, which not unfrequently is found among
cultivated minds; it is a tendency to substitute what is called
religious sentiment for religion itself. They do not deny the great
mysteries of life, but consider them as being very serious and
extremely embarrassing. But in the place of precise solutions and
categorical replies, which could be required of a system maintaining
fixed and clearly defined dogmas, they content themselves with
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