ground of the confederacy, we have had to encounter a tone and bearing which it has required the colder temperament of the north to endure. We cannot consent to take a lower place than we now hold. We cannot consent that our confederacy should spread over the wilds of Mexico, to give us more powerful masters. The old balance of the country is unfavourable enough. We cannot consent that a new weight should be thrown in, which may fix the political inferiority of ourselves and our posterity. I give you, Sir, the feelings of the north; in part they may be prejudices. Jealousies, often groundless, are the necessary fruits of confederations : on that account, measures must not be adopted disturbing violently, unnaturally, unexpectedly, the old distributions of power, and directly aimed at that result.

"In other ways the annexation of Texas is to endanger the Union. It will give new violence and passion to the agitation of the question of slavery. It is well known that a majority at the north have discouraged the discussion of this topic, on the ground that slavery was imposed on the south by necessity, that its continuance was not of choice, and that the States in which it subsists, if left to themselves, would find a remedy in their own way. Let slavery be systematically proposed as the policy of these States, let it bind them together in the efforts to establish political power, and a new feeling will burst forth through the whole north. It will be a concentration of moral, religious, political, and patriotic feelings. The fire now smothered will blaze out, and of consequence, new jealousies and exasperations will be kindled at the south. Strange that the south should think of securing its " peculiar institutions" by violent means! Its violence necessarily increases the evils it would suppress. For example, by denying the right of petition to those who sought the abolition of slavery within the immediate jurisdiction of the United States, it has awakened a spirit which will overwhelm Congress with petitions till this right be restored. The annexation of Texas would be a measure of the same injurious character, and would stir up an open, uncompromising hostility to slavery, of which we have seen no example, and which would produce reaction very dangerous to union."

But a greater interest than even the stability of the union is at hand, and which affords ground for the last argument urged on the subject of the letter, viz., the cause of liberty and free institutions, a cause more sacred than union. Some home-truths are advanced under this head, which, however unpalatable to Dr. Channing's countrymen, will find a repose in the bosom of many European travellers and observers. He speaks in the following explicit

manner,

"I have said that we shall expose our freedom to great peril by entering a new career of crime. We are corrupt enough already. In one respect our institutions have disappointed us all. They have not wrought out for us that elevation of character which is the most precious, and, in truth, the only substantial blessing of liberty. Our progress in prosperity has indeed been the wonder of the world; but this prosperity has done much to counteract the ennobling influence of free institutions. The peculiar

circumstances of the country and of our times have poured in upon us a torrent of wealth; and human nature has not been strong enough for the assault of such severe temptation. Prosperity has become dearer than freedom. Government is regarded more as a means of enriching the country than of securing private rights. We have become wedded to gain, as our chief good. That under the predominance of this degrading passion, the higher virtues, the moral independence, the simplicity of manners, the stern uprightness, the self-reverence, the respect for man as man, which are the ornaments and safeguards of a republic, should wither, and give place to selfish calculation and indulgence, to show and extravagance, to anxious, envious, discontented strivings, to wild adventure, and to the gambling spirit of speculation, will surprise no one who has studied human nature. The invasion of Texas by our citizens is a mournful comment on our national morality. Whether, without some fiery trial, some signal prostration of our prosperity, we can rise to the force and self-denial of freemen, is a question not easily solved.

"There are other alarming views. A spirit of lawlessness pervades the community, which, if not repressed, threatens the dissolution of our present forms of society. Even in the old States, mobs are taking the government into their hands, and a profligate newspaper finds little difficulty in stirring up multitudes to violence. When we look at the parts of the country nearest Texas, we see the arm of the law paralyzed by the passions of the individual. Men take under their own protection the rights which it is the very office of government to secure. The citizen, wearing arms as means of defence, carries with him perpetual proofs of the weakness of the authorities under which he lives. The substitution of self-constituted tribunals for the regular course of justice, and the infliction of immediate punishment in the moment of popular frenzy, are symptoms of a people half reclaimed from barbarism. I know not that any civilized country on earth has exhibited, during the last year, a spectacle so atrocious as the burning of a coloured man by a slow fire in the neighbourhood of St. Louis; and this infernal sacrifice was offered not by a few fiends selected from the whole country, but by a crowd gathered from a single spot. this, the invasions of the rights of speech and of the press by lawless force, the extent and toleration of which oblige us to believe, that a considerable portion of our citizens have no comprehension of the first principles of liberty."

Add to all

Sentiments and facts like these, coming from such an authority, ought to go far in moderating those general exclamations about American liberty, which are ever in the mouths of some theorists. But our author fortifies his views.

"I may be thought inclined to draw a dark picture of our moral condition. But at home I am set down among those who hope against hope, and I have never ceased to condemn as a crime the despondence of those who, lamenting the corruptions of the times, do not lift a finger to withstand it. I am far, very far, from despair. I have no fears but such as belong to a friend of freedom. Among dark omens I see favourable influences, remedial processes, counteracting agencies. I well know that the vicious part of our system makes more noise and show than the

sound. I know that the prophets of ruin to our institutions are to be found most frequently in the party out of power, and that many dark anguries must be set down to the accouut of disappointment and irritation. I am sure, too, that imminent peril would wake up the spirit of our fathers in many who slumber in these days of ease and security. It is also true that, with all our defects, there is a wider diffusion of intelligence, moral restraint, and self-respect among us, than through any other community. Still I am compelled to acknowledge an extent of corruption among us which menaces freedom and our dearest interests; and a policy which will give new and enduring impulse to corruption, which will multiply indefinitely public and private crime, ought to be reprobated as the sorest calamity we can incur. Freedom is fighting her battles in the world with sufficient odds against her. Let us not give new chances to her foes."

The author's vindication of himself, as to the contents of his letter, is at once magnanimous, eloquent, and touching.

lowing are parts :

The fol

"I am aware that there are those who on reading these pages will smile at my simplicity in urging moral and religious motives, disinterested considerations, lofty aims, on a politician. The common notion is that the course of a man embarked in public life will be shaped by the bearings of passing events on his immediate popularity; that virtue and freedom, however they may round his periods in the senate, have little influence on his vote. But I do not believe that public life is necessarily degrading, or that a statesman is incapable of looking above himself. Public life appeals to the noblest as well as basest principles of human nature. It holds up for pursuit enduring fame, as well as the notoriety of the passing hour. By giving opportunities of acting on the vast and permanent interests of a nation, it often creates a deep sense of responsibility, and a generous self-oblivion. I have too much faith in human nature to distrust the influence of great truths and high motives on any class of men, especially on men of commanding intelligence. There is a congeniality between vast powers of thought and dignity of purpose. None are so capable of sacrificing themselves as those who have most to sacrifice; who, in offering themselves, make the greatest offerings to humanity. With this conviction I am not discouraged by the anticipated smiles and scoffs of those who will think, that in insisting on national purity as the essential condition of freedom and greatness, I have preached to the winds. To you, Sir, rectitude is not an empty name; nor will a measure, fraught with lasting corruption and shame to your country, seem to you any thing but a fearful calamity.

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I have now finished the task which I have felt myself bound to undertake. That I have escaped all error I cannot hope; that I may have fallen into occasional exaggerations I ought perhaps to fear, from the earnestness which which I have written. But of the essential truth of the views here communicated I cannot doubt. It is exceedingly to be regretted that the subject of this letter has as yet drawn little attention at the north. The unprecedented pecuniary difficulties pressing now on the country have absorbed the public mind; and yet these difficulties, should they be

aggravated, and continued far beyond what is most dreaded, would be a light national evil compared with the annexation of the Texas to the Union. I trust the people will not slumber on the edge of this precipice till it shall be too late to reflect and provide for safety. Too much time has been given for the ripening of this unrighteous project.

"I take it for granted, that those who differ from me will ascribe what I have written to unworthy motives. This is the common mode of parrying unwelcome truth; and it is not without influence, where the author is unknown. May I then be allowed to say, that I have strong reasons for believing, that, among the many defects of this letter, those of unworthy intention are not to be numbered. The reluctance with which I have written satisfies me that I have not been impelled by any headlong passion. Nor can I have been impelled by party spirit. I am pledged to no party. In truth, I do not feel myself able to form a decisive opinion on the subjects which now inflame and divide the country, and which can be very little understood except by men who have made a study of commerce and finance. As to having written from that most common motive, the desire of distinction, I may be permitted to say, that, to win the public ear I need not engage in a controversy which will expose me to unmeasured reproach. May I add, that I have lived long enough to learn the worth of applause. Could I indeed admit the slightest hope of securing to myself that enduring fame which future ages award to the lights and benefactors of their race, I could not but be stirred by the prospect. But notoriety among contemporaries, obtained by taking part in the irritating discussions of the day, I would not stretch out a hand to secure.

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I cannot but fear that the earnestness with which I have written may seem to indicate an undue excitement of mind. But I have all along felt distinctly the importance of calmness, and have seemed to myself to maintain it. I have prepared this letter, not amidst the goadings, irritations, and feverish tumults of a crowded city, but in the stillness of retirement, amid scenes of peace and beauty. Hardly an hour has passed in which I have not sought relief from the exhaustion of writing, by walking abroad amidst God's works, which seldom fail to breathe tranquillity, and which, by their harmony and beneficence, continually cheer me, as emblems and prophecies of a more harmonious and blessed state of human affairs than has yet been known."

From these extracts our readers must perceive with what propriety Dr. Channing enters upon the subject of his letter when he declares," to me it is more than a political question; it belongs eminently to morals and religion." How gratifying to behold him rising as it were above himself, and thus pleading for the dearest rights and noblest principles! May such a

spirit of the age long sit as upon a watch-tower to sound the trumpet of truth and of warning, that whenever a tide of error approaches, the people may be stirred to stem its devastating

sweep.

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ART. XI.—The Life of Wallenstein, Duke of Friedland. By Lieut.COLONEL J. MITCHELL, H. P. London: Fraser. 1837.

ALTHOUGH history has treated abundantly of the remarkable era when Wallenstein lived, and although his character and career have furnished a theme for dramatic writers and popular biographies, Colonel Mitchell has clearly shown that there was not only ample room for a new life of the great warrior, but he has proved himself equal to the task. The dispassionate and candid tone which predominates in these pages is not more creditable to the author's heart, than his penetrating views and philosophic manner of generalization are to his judgment and comprehension. We have felt that he has succeeded in the difficult work of conveying by his narrative a clear outline of the causes and principles that were evoked and came into play during the times immediately connected with the subject of his volume, without throwing his hero to the back-ground, or forgetting that it is the renowned Duke of Friedland and Mecklenburgh he has undertaken to picture. Nay, we award him the praise of rendering the general and biographical narrative reciprocally illustrative, to the production of a very great effect. Along with this the author can with skill point a moral, turn to account a suggested sentiment, or sketch a portrait of any one that comes in his way; so that his episodical pieces, without diverting the attention from the main current of the narrative, are in themselves agreeable things, and in a subordinate capacity constitute finishing strokes to the entire representation.

Some of the facts, as stated by the author in his preface, will, in a compressed form, be a suitable introduction to the extracts which we are about to give to our readers.

Schiller has said that the character of Wallenstein "has been so obscured by the hatred and applause of factions, as still to float unfixed and stationless in history." Several causes are assigned for this uncertainty, which was still greater when the authority now quoted spoke than it has since become. Still, both as regards the private life and domestic habits of Wallenstein, as well as the circumstances that led to his violent death, darkness continues to brood. Twice he retires from the public scene. In early life, after having served for a considerable time as a soldier and tried his fortune as a courtier, he remains ten years out of sight; and then all on a sudden bursts forth like the sun in his strength, without allowing us to see how he sped or waxed bright in the interval. His history, says our author, is therefore "rather a grouping of great events round the principal actor, in the scenes described, than a regular and legitimate biography," during the most memorable period in European history.

The Thirty years' War was unprecedented in various respects;